#but who knows maybe ill take another stab one day!!! but i could t be having real life mommy issues at the same time as fictional ones just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

local80smotel · 4 years

Text

Tears and kisses

pairing; V x reader

summary; V & the reader's friendship started on him being injured and their relationship would start with that too.

requested by; @peachesandbb

rating; T

warnings; mention of blood (but never described)

word count; 2,663

A/N; I'm so sorry this took so long but I had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for requesting!

Y/N's lungs burned as they ran deeper into the alleyways of London, holding their heels in their hands. How were they supposed to know the creep they punched was a member of the Fingermen? Maybe wearing heels tonight was a bad idea but hey, no one thinks that they're going to be chased by madmen who were drunk with power at 8:30 pm. 'Shit' they thought, glancing at the street clocks '30 minutes untile curfew'. If they didn't get home soon that would just be another nail in the coffin for this English citizen.

The fleeing criminal didn't look back until they heard a loud, panic-filled scream followed with a thud. When they did, they were shocked by the scene in front– well behind them. There, taking out the Fingermen with such ease, was a pure black figure wearing a mask and an outdated hat. The hat or the mask wasn't the thing that confused Y/N, it was the fact this street vigilante was flinging these six-foot men like they were rag dolls. As embarrassing as it sounds, Y/N just stood there, stuck in some kind of awestruck daze until the ringing of a gun blast drew them out of it.

All they could cry out was a "No!" As they were still glued to the alley street. The masked figure only let out a pained grunt before taking out the shooter with one of his many knives. He stood there for a moment, their back only facing Y/N. They could tell even in the dark that this vigilante was seeing if the bullet was an exit wound or not.

“Hello?” they stepped closer to the caped hero “Are you hurt badly?”

Y/N's hero turned to them, obviously flustered as they tripped on their words as they tried to answer back.

“Uh-” He tried to bow but only winced in pain which stopped him from doing so “I would say so, but," he chuckled softly under his breath “as you can barely tell, I'm bleeding.”

Y/N rushed over to them ignoring common sense which yelled for them not to go to the man who had just taken out four men all by himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” they asked as they searched for the wound and see if there was an exit wound as well

“I know I haven't introduced you as I have to others, but could you be as kind as to let me into your home?” It was easy to tell the awkwardness and anxiousness in his voice. He shook his head before trying to continue his sentence, probably to backtrack and apologize but Y/N stopped them as they nodded before looking back at the street clock.

“We have sixteen minutes till curfew, we have to hurry. Can you run?”

The man nodded as he placed a hand on his wound before saying "Lead the way".

Luckily, it seemed that the secret police had vanished as they made way back to their apartment. They couldn't help but feel responsible for this poor civilian's injury. 'I could have outrun them. He didn't need to intervene like that.' They thought as they looked over at him. Now that they were closer to the street they should see where the wound truly was, his left shoulder. Y/N couldn't help but sigh in relief which rewarded them a confused head tilt from their guest. Hopefully, it hadn't hit any important nerves, muscle, or bone and they'd feel safe putting their hero on the street once a more.

Things between them things were quiet until they got to their apartment building's door. There, right on the porch of the brick establishment, he muttered a word as he was noticeably starting to get lightheaded due to blood loss.

“V...”

“V? Is that the name of the street you liv-”

“Name. That's my name.

All they could say was "oh" as they opened the door and started up the stairs. It was easy to tell he was getting grumpy as well. Who knew that was also a symptom of blood loss. When they both were greeted with their apartment door Y/N wasted no time opening said door and pulling this masked hero into it, making sure not to pull the injured side, and made a b-line to the bathroom. There, like most normal people they kept their medical supplies stored.

V stepped into the room first and before the host could follow he closed the door.

“Hey!” they yelled as they lightly slammed their hand into the bathroom door “What gives?”

“I- uh, please forgive me but I can take it from here!”

Y/N huffed as he spoke, feeling slightly insulted that they couldn't go into the bathroom they paid for. They were taken away from their irritated thoughts when V spoke again around three minutes later.

“Could you stay? Sit by the door I mean.”

“Why?” they shot back as they somewhat snapped. V waited for a moment before answering.

“Just... Nervous that's all.” His soothing British accent made the hair on Y/N's neck stand up “I can understand if you say no– I did lock you out of your own bathroom.”

“No! No, no it's okay.” They began to slide down the wall so they could sit. The quietness sneaked in as Y/N brought their knees to their chin. Small sounds like him hissing at the pain from rubbing alcohol and him rummaging for more supplies were the only things that broke said silence until he mumbled out four words;

“Would you help me...?”

The apartment's owner sighed as they got up, jittering the doorknob “Sure if you can unlock it.”

Again, it took him a few moments before a small click happened but they weren't annoyed or upset at the wait as they knew he was probably in more pain. When they opened the door they were greeted to V who now was shirtless with their back facing them. The wound wasn't the thing that caught Y/N's eye, but instead, it was the fact his body was so heavily burned. It made sense why he wanted to patch himself up now! They couldn't help but place their fingertips gently on his back which caused him the tense up.

“Need help wrapping the bandages?”

He nodded, still not looking at them which made it easier to tell that he was truly embarrassed.

Y/N looked closely at the wound, sighing in relief as it seemed that the bullet hadn't lodged itself inside any of the muscle and started wrapping the medical bandages, trying to make sure that it wasn't too tight. In an attempt to relax V they tried to make conversation about his burns. He was quick to say that he "didn't remember" how he got them which Y/N couldn't believe but dropped the subject and onto a new one; why he saved them.

“I watched you– just to make sure you got him safe– and I saw them. Harass you I mean.” he looked back at the bandage work, seemingly pleased with their work before talking once more “You threw a good punch though.”

Y/N couldn't help but blush at the compliment as they stood up “Thank you, V. Come back if you ever need help.”

When V left they couldn't help but feel that their apartment was, well, empty. That night as they laid in bed they secretly hoped he'd come back again and oh boy, would he do exactly that.

Almost three months into their budding friendship they were woken up in the middle of the night to pounding at their door. Fear washed over them like a wave as they opened the door, scared the police had come to take them away for some petty thing.

“Oh! V!” they smiled in relief along with joy as they got to see their good friend after waiting for almost one and a half months to see him again. “Come in!” they moved out of the doorframe, still smiling like a goof until they looked at the floor. Blood. Once again their dear friend had gotten himself hurt. Their heart sank as they looked back at him who was already in the bathroom except for this time he didn't lock the door like he did the first time he came here.

“Really V? This is the third time in a year,” they said with concern in their voice as they walked in the bathroom, undressing him to see the wound which turned out to be a stab wound in his upper abdomen. Luckily it didn't hit anything vital.

“Maybe you just get yourself hurt to see me..” they mumbled as they pressed a cold washcloth on him. Sure they said it was a joke but somewhere, deep down inside them, they wished it was true. V grunted as a response once rubbing alcohol was introduced to the stab injury, turning their head away from them before actually speaking.

“Come with me. Back to my place.”

Y/N turned red when they finally processed his words. Why? How? Where does he even live? Truly they wanted to say "yes" right then and there but they just couldn't.

What about their apartment? Their plants and mail? Sure, they didn't have anything important in their home like a pet but still, moving (especially when they've never seen the place) is both scary and draining.

“Why? V you know you're always welcomed in my home.”

He took Y/N hand's and placed it on his face so his "cheek" was cupped before answering their question

“One day Y/N they'll follow me back here and because you're helping me, ” he coughed “they'll take you away too. I want to make sure you're completely safe. You're important to me.”

Y/N's ears felt hot once V was done talking. They thought for a moment as they inspected the wound to see if it needed stitches. Maybe he was right and living with him would be a good idea. Hell even it wasn't like he only came to their place for safety as well as they couldn't count how many times they opened their door just to see items like water bottles or bags of fresh bread (with a V drawn on them of course) and due to that, it was clear that he did care for them.

Y/N sighed as they locked eyes with V “Ill go with you, V. Let me pack up first.”

They could tell he was happy as he rubbed his face a bit deeper into their hand.

A few hours later at one AM the two of them hurried out of the building, carrying a few duffle bags as they did so. Y/N as they walked couldn't help but glance down at the man's hands as he carried both bags.

“I can carry them V...”

“Nonsense! I'm just doing what a gentleman would do.”

They couldn't help but roll their eyes at this. For being an absolute tank he still tried to act all soft, guess that was another reason they liked them.

As they walked they teased one another, trying not to laugh so they wouldn't alert the police as they were very much out against curfew. That night Y/N learned that V loved stars which just added on to the cuteness factor of him.

“What is this?” they asked in confusion once they stopped in front of Victorian Station “V this place has been abandoned for years.”

“Exactly my comrade!” He smiled as he placed the bags on the sidewalk and opened the doors to Y/N's surprise “A secret treasure I like to call it, now come along you're probably exhausted.”

The two descended into the dark depths which V seemed to be used to. Y/N finally got to carry a bag but it was only so V could use his free hand to guide them in the dark as he had a hand on their shoulder.

As the door opened they were shocked to see the inside completely decorated. It was easy to see V was a big art nerd as classic paintings hung from the ceiling and loved literature once they saw their new room as books were piled all the way to the ceiling.

“I'm sorry if it isn't to your liking.” He said as he placed down the bag in his hand

“No no, it's amazing. Thank you, V.”

Before he left the room Y/N placed a kiss on the metal mask's cheek. V didn't stop to ask why but merely turned his head to look at Y/N who was busy unpacking their clothes now.

For the next two years, V came home with no injuries to Y/N's happiness. It was easy when it came to them bonded as V showed them his favorite movies and how to cook. Their relationship also deepened when the talk of politics came up. Sure, it was slightly concerning for them how V loved the idea of anarchy. But one thing was for certain; they both hated Sutler with a burning passion. Nothing outright romantic happened between them, BUT the night that marked their two years of friendship while having a movie marathon, Y/N laid their head somewhat near his shoulder as they began to fall asleep. V, even though he felt slightly awkward due to this situation, played with the tips of their friend's hair until the movie ended. He didn't move them back to their room, instead, to make sure V didn't wake Y/N, laid their head on a pillow and gave them a blanket before leaving the gallery. Like two years ago Y/N was startled wake around four AM to V slamming the door shut while grunting and mumbling to himself.

“V?” their voice was almost a whisper as they got up slowly and followed him

“Ah Y/N, I'm sorry for waking you.” he turned to them as he held his left side. It was easy to tell that he was nervous. When they finally got to see what was wrong their blood felt like it was being boiled. He had gotten himself hurt again! There was no blood but it was easy to tell he had broken something. He was always being reckless, didn't he know they cared for him? It just wasn't fair!

“Do I not matter to you?!” they snapped as tears threatened to fail as they grabbed the home's first aid.

“You haven't done this in so long V! Why now? Have I done something wrong? V–”

Before the could finish their rant V slammed his "lips" unto Y/N's whose eyes widen. They felt frozen for a few seconds until they wrapped their arms around them, running their fingers through his hair as they closed their eyes. To Y/N's sadness, they couldn't deepen the kiss due to his mask so holding him close was all they could do but it made them just as happy. When the two broke the kiss Y/N laid their head in the crook of his neck as they stayed silent for a few moments before they broke the silence.

“Can I say something?”

“Of course love.”

“I love you...” They held V's hand as they spoke in a whisper “I have for a while.”

V moved their head out of his crook and lifted their chin to look them in his eye before kissing them on the forehead

“And so have I.”

#imagine #imagine requests #v for vendetta #v for vendetta imagine #v for vendetta x reader

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ejzah · 4 years

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Can you do a prompt where Kensi is shot by Kessler (in the stomach because he wants to make her unable to have kids) and Deeks tries to save her and she turns out all fine?

A/N: Ok, maybe I lied. I took a look at my prompts and found this one, which seems to link up nicely with my story from the other day.

Since this story involves Kessler, some creepy things are said, but I don’t think anything too over the top. It gets a bit dark and uncomfortable.

***

A Few Stolen Moments, Part 2

“You sure we locked all the doors when we came in?” Deeks murmured against Kensi’s head, the movement of his lips ruffling her hair. They were still sitting in bed, curled around each other.

As much as she didn’t want to let it affect her, Kensi felt vaguely sick at the thought of Kessler being so close by. Especially after the comments he made about Deeks when she’d questioned him. She didn’t know how much was just speculation, but she didn’t want him coming anywhere near Deeks either.

“I locked the front door and enabled the security,” she said. It was second nature after all this time. “And we haven’t unlocked any of the other doors since yesterday.”

“I’m going to double check anyway.” Deeks kissed her forehead one more time and then untangled their arms. He slid on a pair of spare sweatpants and started to climb off the bed, but before he could leave, Kensi tugged him back, kissing him firmly.

“We’ll be fine.” The concern in Deeks’ eyes said he didn’t believe that for a moment, but he didn’t say anything as he left the room.

Now all alone, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snowy weather and the disconcerting sensation that she was being watched. Grabbing her wrinkled clothes, she started pulling on her jeans and t-shirt. She was just reaching for her socks when she heard a loud crash downstairs.

She paused, waiting for another sound, and then called out,

“Deeks?” There was a moment of silence, followed by another crash. The socks fell from her hand as Kensi raced for her bag and pulled it her personal weapon. Deeks shouted out a muffled

“Kensi, don’t-“ as she raced downstairs.

She slowed down at the last few steps, leveling her gun as she cautiously turned the corner into the kitchen. There was a potted plant smashed on the floor, the pieces of blue ceramic scattered in a wide circle, and she skirted around it. Mouth completely dry, pulse racing, she walked past it and into the living room.

Deeks was kneeling on the floor, David Kessler behind him with one arm hooked around Deeks’ neck and the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. She saw regret and anger in Deeks’ eyes as she quickly gave him a once over.

His bangs were stained red as was the skin beneath his nose, but he didn’t to be badly injured. She felt the smallest amount of relief at that.

Kessler smiled widely at her, his lip dribbling blood from what looked like a split lip. Good, Kensi thought with dark satisfaction.

“Put the gun down, Kessler,” she ordered coldly, leveling her gun for a kill shot. He just smiled even more.

“I missed you too, Kensi,” he said, ignoring her threat completely. “I’m so glad I finally got to meet the Hubby.”

“I said put the gun down or I will kill you.”

“You could try. But I might shoot him first. And that would be a shame. Wouldn’t it, Deeks?” He addressed the last part to Deeks, dragging the gun down the length of his jaw. “And I intend to enjoy this game for as long as I can.”

“Really, that’s the line you’re going with?” Deeks commented. Kensi could hear his fear and anger bleeding through the sarcasm, but she felt a spark of pride. Especially when Kessler frowned at him. “I expected better from a guy who’s been creating his master villain plan while he’s rotting in prison for years.”

Eyes flashing for a second, Kessler jerked his arm tighter, forcing Deeks back at an angle that made him wince.

“I imagined you a lot different than this,” Kessler said, once again conversationally. “But I can see why Kensi is attracted to you. Your the opposite of her father and most the other men in her life. It must make her feel like a rebel.”

“Are you seriously still tying to impress me?” Kensi asked in disbelief. Anger was quickly replacing her fear and her hand trembled slightly with it.

“I don’t need to impress anyone. I’m just here to enjoy myself.” He grabbed a handful of Deeks’ hair and tugged sharply until he growled out something dark and unintelligible. “Does she ever call you, Marty? Maybe that’s for when it’s just the two of you, huh?”

“Well, that’s something you’ll never find out,” Deeks said in a strained voice.

“I don’t know. I think Kensi would enjoy me being there. Maybe she’d even want me to join in.”

“Like she’d ever pick you.” Kessler actually growled as Deeks continued to goad him. She knew Deeks was trying to distract him, but she had no idea what Kessler was willing to do to him.

“Deeks, don’t.” Even though she couldn’t see Deeks’ eyes at this angle, she saw his body tense at her words.

“No, it’s alright, Kensi,” Kessler said, in a would-be reassuring tone. “It’s understandable that Deeks would want to defend you. Or maybe he’s defending himself. Tell me, were you this defiant when they drilled your teeth out?”

Another shiver went up Kensi’s spine at the reminder of how much Kessler knew about them. Had he been watching them? The thought made her feel ill. Almost as much as when Kessler jabbed the tip of the gun into Deeks’ upper jaw.

Deeks didn’t so much as flinch, but she knew he had to be in pain. The way Kessler was holding him, forcing him at that awkward angle was surely putting pressure on his ribs. She wondered if Kessler knew about that too.

“How did you get in here?” she asked. He enjoyed showing just how smart he was. Maybe it would be enough to distract him and give Deeks a chance to disarm him.

“I have friends.” Kessler smirked again. “When you know the right people and you can get all the keys and passcodes you want.” He trailed the gun down Deeks’ cheek again, nudging his split lip. Something inside Kensi snapped then and anger overwhelmed her.

“You know you’re not going to make it out of here alive.” Her voice was cold, dark, almost looking forward to the moment he was out of their lives. “I will kill you.”

“Yeah, she’s a pretty good shot,” Deeks added in a strained, but conversational tone.

“So am I.” Sighing a little dreamily, Kessler nodded like he was remembering something. “I may not have had the weapons, but I trained in other ways. I prepared for this day.” He’d released his hold on Deeks’ hair while he spoke, allowing him to lower his head.

Looking up under his bangs, Deeks met her gaze again, a silent question burning in his eyes. She nodded back almost imperceptibly, allowing her face to reflect concern as Deeks pulled in a visible breath. She wasn’t sure if it was at all real or solely designed to throw Kessler off guard.

“You’re not as strong as you look,” Kessler commented, then glanced at Kensi pointedly, staring at her midsection. “But then we already knew that, didn’t we?”

“Don’t you get sick of saying the same things all the time?” Kensi asked, letting derision leak into her voice.

“Oh Kensi, I’m just telling the truth. And you know it. Your husband is weak. He let me take him down. Barely even fought.”

“In my experience, strong men don’t talk about it all the time. They don’t have anything to prove.”

“I’m going to enjoy controlling you,” he murmured vindictively. “Now put the gun down before I blow Marty’s brain out.” Deeks shook his head and she saw him mouth her name as she slowly bent down to put the gun on the floor. “Now kick over here.”

Hands trembling as she rose back up, Kensi did as he instructed. Normally she would wait for Deeks to distract and disarm Kessler, but normally he didn’t have broken ribs. It was likely how Kessler had gotten an upper hand in the first place.

“Alright, you have what you want, let Deeks go. This doesn’t have anything to do with him,” she said as Kessler kicked the gun under the couch.

“Kensi, no.”

Chuckling, Kessler shook his head.

“That’s not part of my plans.” Before Kensi could react, he slammed the but of his gun into Deeks’ temple. Deeks cried out, his body flailing for a second as Kessler let him roughly drop to the ground.

“Deeks!” She started toward him, but Kessler waved her back. She stayed in place reluctantly, eyes never leaving his weapon. He stalked towards her until he was just a few feet away from her.

“You don’t know how many times I imagined stabbing you, shooting you. Right in the stomach. No little baby Deeks for you,” he said in a slightly sing song voice, leveling the gun directly at her abdomen. Kensi’s fists trembled with rage as he reached out and brushed his fingers across the fabric of her shirt.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. His eyes tightened momentarily, like he’d expected any other response and his finger slid on the trigger.

“Then I guess this is the end, Kensi.” She tensed, preparing to attack him in whatever way she could when Deeks rose up behind and tackled him to the floor. Kessler managed to squeeze the trigger, but it went wide and then flew from his hand.

She ran for it as they struggled, Deeks trying to maintain control. When she turned back, Kessler was on top, punching Deeks repeatedly in the side.

Kensi didn’t hesitate another moment and fired, hitting Kessler directly in the shoulder. He screamed and reared back, giving Deeks the opportunity to flip him onto his back and slam his head into the floor until he blacked out. It took everything in Kensi’s power not to shoot Kessler again. And again.

Would anyone question it if he died? He finally stopped fighting and Deeks rolled off him, collapsing to the ground as he dragged in ragged breaths.

“Deeks, baby, are you ok?” she asked, kneeling next to Deeks. She pulled his head into her lap, fingers still trembling, this time with fear. There was a new cut where Kessler had hit him, blood flowing out in a steady stream down the side of his head.

“I’m fine. Did he shoot you? I tried to stop him,” he gasped out, running his hand over her for any signs of injury.

“He missed. He didn’t hurt me.” Deeks let his head fall back and he closed his eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.” He glanced at Kessler’s prone body, looking slightly nauseous, and pushed himself away.

“Oh my god, it’s not your fault, baby,” she murmured. Her eyes filled with tears as she pressed her forehead to his. “I thought he killed you.” Shivering uncontrollably, she clasped Deeks against her chest, reveling in the sound of his labored breathing, his arms clamping around his back.

“He can’t hurt us anymore,” Deeks whispered, cupping her cheek.

***

A/N: So, Writing Kessler is super weird. Aside from the fact that he’s a creep, I kept drifting into dialogue that sounded more like Sidorov or one of the other big baddies. Hopefully I captured Kessler’s fairly simplistic and persistent traits well enough.

Thanks for the prompt, anon!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #Kessler #tw: violence #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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anestheticrage · 4 years

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Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately.

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho.

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi- and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏 defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself.

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊🏻; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got:

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H)

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

- everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

- the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

- make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊).

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..."

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs

Yours Truly,

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘

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tf2hcs · 5 years

Note

can i get uhhhhhhh.. trans merc head canons?? maybe found family?? thanks!

you can DEFINITELY get trans merc headcanons. comin up hot. i have so many headcanons pertaining to the mercs being trans that i can’t fit them into one post, so i’m just gonna do stuff related to transitioning here, and if you wanna hear about how i think they realized they’re trans or came out, ill do a post about that too

Soldier:

you know how cis people think that you have dysphoria ur whole life and then you get The Surgery (The Surgery) and it all goes away that very day? and that’s just. it? solider is the only person on earth for whom that holds true

he has rod-insert phalloplasty and double incision top surgery

Jane Doe is actually his real birth name, it doesn’t give him dysphoria so he just kept it

his phalloplasty used his arm as the donor site, so he’s got a patch of pinkish skin on his left arm

he transitioned pretty early on, maybe in his early twenties. he’s known he’s trans since he was a kid

shaving gives him INTENSE gender euphoria

Scout:

he just went on T and boy is he excited

he runs in his binder (dumb) and frequently binds with bandages (dumb), so he has at least one deformed rib. twinsies

like as SOON as he finds out medic is trans he asks for top surgery & gets it. he gets periareolar top surgery

when medic explains to him that periareolar top surgery keeps nipple sensation intact but double incision doesn’t he immediately starts calling the other mercs “numb-nips”

“it’s my shot day someone come stab me in the așs”

he didn’t choose his own name, his mom chose it for him when he came out. if he chose it it would’ve CLEARLY been tommy, as a tribute to tom jones

Medic:

double incision top surgery

i know this is wildly unrealistic but it’s tf2 so i will claim it. medic gave himself top surgery and instead of giving himself nipple grafts he just like, carved a smiley face and star of david on there

he knows the most about trans health and history out of all the mercs (partially because he’s old, partially because he’s a doctor, partially because he’s more involved in the community than the others)

because of this the other mercs come to him for help with trans issues a lot

he wants to have a baby biologically SO bad. so so bad. i think i get this headcanon from how lovingly he holds that baboon baby in the comics

he works really hard to preserve his fertility throughout his transition and as he gets older. he doesn’t end up being able to have a baby until he’s in his 50s but he’s so happy when he does

i could go off about my dad medic headcanons for hours but ill save that for another post if u guys request

Demo:

double incision top surgery for this guy too

talks about being trans all the time (every time i watch meet the demo and he says “i got a manky eye, i’m a black scottish cyclops” i mentally add transgender to the list)

constantly jokes about how he “blew it off” (you know what “it” is)

he has relatively bad dysphoria his entire life, but being open about it really helps

he doesn’t even know soldier is trans until he asks about the skin graft on his arm. he sees him use his rod implant and he just accepts that that’s how penises work

you know how being skilled with explosives runs in the degroot family?? my personal headcanon is that transness is also genetic to the degroots. both of demo’s parents were trans. ill talk about this more in another post if u guys want

Heavy:

no top surgery, his chest is a little large compared to a cis guy’s but his overall size makes it look more normal

if he ever does get top surgery, though, he gets inverted T/anchor incision

he has PCOS. he got a hysterectomy when medic was rooting around in there for the first time and noticed the cysts (”there will be so much more room in here once we get rid of your uterus!!” “room for what?” “…oh, you know”)

i think he might get full meta?? (as in metoidioplasty) i cant decide if he’d want a vaginectomy though. help me decide

Spy:

double incision top surgery. he paid top dollar for it, it’s very nicely done

he refers to his top surgery as a “mastectomy” (which is the correct term but like, who says that)

he gave birth to scout. he was pregnant when he met scout’s mom, and after he gave birth to scout he ended up leaving him with her. i cant decide if it was more of a “can you please take my baby” situation or a��“im going to the store to get milk” situation. either way though i don’t think scout’s mom would’ve objected to keeping him, he was an adorable baby

he owns so many packers. he gets them custom made. he has them displayed in his closet like designer wigs

Sniper:

no surgery at all! he never plans on getting it either. that’s why he has the vest

his chest is like, small and somewhat muscular. you guys have seen skinny trans men with muscle tîtty before i don’t have to explain this to you

actually i want you to take this discord screenshot. i said this last thursday

he’s one of the most obviously trans mercs because he just insists on dressing like he based his outfit off the wikihow article for how to pass as male

i can say a lot more about my trans hcs for sniper in another post but im trying to keep this one at a readable length (failed step one)

Engineer:

no top surgery!

i think he has simple meta or maybe full meta without a vaginectomy (*epic rap battles of history voice* you decide)

he transitioned much later in life than the other mercs, his transition only actually started like five years ago

Pyro:

they’re agender!!

AFAB with no surgery or HRT

they use they/them pronouns or alternating he/she (”he’s not here, is she?”)

there’s not much to say about pyro’s gender! they just don’t have one

OH HOLY SHIT DO THE MERCS THROW THEM A GENDER REVEAL PARTY

ASKFLDLJSDKFLJDSFLKSDJFDLSKFJLSK

BONUS

Miss Pauling:

you know how when some trans women start hrt, they get really bad cravings for pickles? miss p has that like hell

she eats a hot pickle in her car every single day. it gets to the point where the people who work the graveyard shift at mcdonalds remember her (she has a habit of ordering “a fry container full of pickle slices”)

she takes estrogen but she doesn’t have any surgery! i dont think she ever gets any

scout very nervously explains to her that he’s trans at one point and all she can do is blink and say “did you think i was cis”

thank you for taking this journey with me. now imagine how long this list would’ve been if i didn’t narrow it down

#Anonymous #tf2 #team fortress 2 #soldier tf2 #scout tf2 #medic tf2 #demoman tf2 #sniper tf2 #pyro tf2 #miss pauling #engineer tf2 #spy tf2 #heavy tf2 #headcanons #trans rights #long post #ask to tag #the holy grail of tf2 trans rights.

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thedeviltohisangel · 4 years

Text

I Know It’s Too Late//2

“I’m here. You have me. You can come up for air. You can breathe again.” Because she knew his tears weren’t because he was sad or even because he was happy. They were because he was tired. Tired of looking one way and feeling another. Tired of no one being able to see what was going on underneath it all. Tired of knowing that it will never be different.

But on that sidewalk on a warm night in Chicago, Jay held her tightly and he knew. Knew he’d be okay.

masterlist is my url/writing.

send me what you wish to see next from these two.

“Of all the people in this entire city…”

“I know, I know, I pick the one I’ve already broken up with.” Meg was trying to concentrate on her eyeliner but her friend Leila was making it near impossible. “Therapist did say I might find myself seeking comfort in old habits.”

“I just get nervous. You loved him so hard last time and it didn’t work. And you have Aria now.” The baby in question gurgled with a smile.

“I’ve already lost sleep over how careful I have to be. Lost sleep over whether or not dating is even an appropriate thing to do. But it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. I am not going to assume anything.” She paced back into the bathroom and fluffed her hair one last time before she felt like she was ready to face the outside world. “Let me cry saying goodbye before you give me a final lookover.” Meg cradled her daughter against her chest and peppered the top of her head with kisses.

“Thank you for trusting me to watch her.” After everything that had happened with her ex, Meg had closed ranks on who was in her life and in her daughter’s. For her to trust Leila with watching her was a big deal.

“Thanks for being a good friend through everything that is happening.” She projected all of her love through her touches into her daughter so she would know that even when she was not there, she loved her more than anything. “I’ll be back before you even know it. I love you, my sweet girl.” Reluctantly, she handed Aria back to her friend and then squared her shoulders in anticipation of the final once over.

“I think you look hot. Like you got some mojo flowing through you.”

“Perfect. Have I kept him waiting long enough?” Leila had told her that going outside as soon as he texted he was here was not the right move. That she should let him squirm a little.

“You should be good. Be safe tonight but most importantly, don’t worry about us and have fun.” Meg had been spending the past few months with more stress in her body than she knew what to do with. This night was one she needed and well overdo.

“I promise I will try my best. Love you, Ari and thanks again, Lei!” She shut the door behind her and felt empty. Standing by herself in the hallway with no equipment bag or armor or stroller to push. For so long she had been living in relation to others. It felt odd to be living for herself.

“You look beautiful.” And she hated that seeing Jay and hearing his voice made her feel right again. Hated that she had such a power over her. That she still loved him with all she had.

“Thanks. Sorry I took a minute. Saying goodbye to my daughter is never easy.” He opened his truck door for her and quickly went to his side.

“I always pictured you with a daughter. What’s her name?”

“Aria. I am so wrapped around her finger and it’s not even been a full year yet.” She couldn’t help but smile at the mere mention of her daughter. And it was infectious, Jay smiling too. “I know I dropped quite the bomb on you yesterday.”

“You just being there was enough. Let alone that you’re a mom now.” She had always been a known in his life. Steady and sure and always there. Then she wasn’t and now she was. It was hard to wrap his mind around.

“I thought about looking you up so many times. I just never had the courage.” Meg hadn’t wanted to be confronted with the choice of continuing to live without him or going to be with him. At her lowest points, it was Jay she dreamed about. But running felt like quitting and quitting felt like weakness.

“Will’s here, my dad is here. It felt like the right thing to do after so long away.” She knew his dad was a sore subject. Was surprised he brought him up at all.

“Sometimes what is familiar is what we seek after trauma.” It was rich coming from her and she knew that. That was exactly what she was doing. Albeit unintentionally but it was exactly what was happening. He chuckled at her words.

“You sound like you have to repeat what your shrink told you or you won’t believe it.”

“I have a thick skull, you know that. Things need to be said repeatedly or they won’t penetrate.”

“You remember when you first got there and that mortar hit right by your bunk?” She would never forget. A green, rookie soldier on her first deployment. The impact of that hit had shook her to the core but she never shook again. “Everyone had a bit of ringing in their ears but you were good. You said you had a thick skull.”

“It’s hard to think about the first day...first few days. The last time I felt clean,” she whispered as she looked out the window.

“Hey, come back.” Jay reached for her hand on her lap and she let him take it, both of them squeezing tightly one their fingers were woven together. “You don’t have to be ashamed of what you did over there or the effect it is having on you now.” It was the opposite of the words her ex had been saying to her. Telling her she was messed up in the head. That she needed to handle herself better. That she would never be right again and he couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t want their daughter around it.

“I missed the way you always knew what I needed to hear.” He put the truck into park as they reached their final destination and did his best to hold her against his chest with the console between them.

“You got me now, Meg. You’re the only one who could possibly understand what I went through over there. What I’m going through by coming back here. I know things have changed and we aren’t the same people we were before but…”

“One day at a time,” she said to him softly. Her hand came to cradle his cheek and his skin felt like a salve against her own. His forehead knocked against hers and he closed his eyes. He made no move to kiss her. Just two people enjoying the closeness of the one they love and hope to love again.

“I’d move an inch at a time if I knew it’d mean you’d be by my side.”

“I’m here, Jay, I’m here.” And maybe this was what healing looked like.

“So tell me more about Officer Halstead.”

“It’s Detective actually,” he said with a smirk as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“My apologies, Detective.” It made sense and it didn’t at the same time that Jay had gone and become a cop. It was believable because he had always had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. Had always wanted to help the incident. Always wanted to protect. But holding a gun and running into buildings felt like an extension of what he had done overseas. Meg couldn’t judge for not completely putting it away as she was doing exactly the same thing. She had thought Jay’s conviction was stronger than hers. That his need to put the past behind him would translate into reality.

“You got your thinking face on,” he said in a teasing tone but a question was mixed in there.

“Just thinking how we both got out physically but not in reality. How we’re both doing what we were just in a different uniform.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you look better in those blue pants than you did in the camo.”

“Oh, shut up.” She swatted at him playfully as he had leaned over the table to tell her as if it was a sacred secret. “They don’t design those uniforms for women and you know that.” Meg emphasized her words with a stab of her fork in his direction.

“I know. I was there when you spoke at that university about it.”

“It was more than just ill fitting t-shirts and long pants.” Jay remembered. He remembered because it was the day he went and bought an engagement ring. He remembered because he had never been more enamored by her. More in love with her than he had watching her speak about something she was passionate about. Watching others look at her in awe and knowing that he was the luck bastard who got to know her. That he really didn’t deserve her but was going to take the leap of faith anyways. And how could he ever forget her not being there when he woke up the next morning? “We should talk about that. Eventually.” Meg wasn’t ready to. Even though it had been bouncing around her nightmares for awhile, she wasn’t ready to admit it was real. Admit to all of the wasted time and heartache.

“If we want this to be...what we tried for last time, then we do. But if you want to just be us then-”

“Jay-”

“-you have a baby now and some guy who may or may not be in your life because of your daughter and I get that and want to be respectful-”

“Jay!” He stopped rambling and just looked at her. “He left, okay? He left because I’m not the same person I was before. Because I’m fucked up in the head and sometimes it makes itself apparent to other people and he hated me for it.”

“Meg-” Jay reached for her and she pulled back.

“I’ve tried to get help. I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried and it doesn’t fucking work so if you want things to be the way they were or normal or...or...they won’t be.” She took a few gulps of air and tried to steady herself. The room was beginning to spin and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Jay…” She sounded scared to her own ears but he recognized what was happening instantly. Had gone through it himself. Without a word, he threw some money on the table, wrapped her in his jacket and exited the restaurant.

“Deep breaths, okay? You’re here, with me, on a sidewalk in Chicago. You have a daughter and we just ate dinner and we’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.” She breathed in time with his words and slowly felt herself return to normal.

“Thank you.” Meg shouldn’t have been surprised that he was so able to identify what was going on and remedy it. Maybe he had lost control of himself in the same way. Maybe they had been waiting a while to have each as a steadying force again. “It doesn’t happen often but when it does…”

“You never have to explain stuff like that to me. You know I know.” And he wishes he didn’t. Wishes that things were easier. That answering the call didn’t have to take the toll that it did. That he knew a way to protect her from herself.

“I wish you didn’t have to.” It made her feel vulnerable to know that Jay could tell what was going on inside of her head. It was such a wild and twisted place where she had no control. It was her dirty little secret. And having him stand there looking at her, seeing her, in a way she hadn’t been seen since the last time their paths had crossed...it was scary and beautiful and too much all at once. But it felt good and necessary and like the world was coming back into focus. Like keeping her distance had only made everything worse. And coming back was the remedy for the painful echoes in her skull. For the splinters of her old self in her chest. For the tremble in her hands and the visions in her sleep and the darkness in the corners of her soul.

“If I didn’t, then I would be here with you.” He let the words hang between them for a moment as he drank her in. “And this...this never stopped feeling right.” It hurt to know they had spent time apart. Hurt to know she had found someone else and tried to build a life with them. Hurt to know that Jay was born to protect and hadn’t been able to shield the person who meant the most. Because if he was meant to protect everyone, he knows he is only meant to love her.

“When I left, you said that if we found our way back together again you’d never let me leave again.”

“Meg, I’m not gonna stand in your way. Especially with your daughter. But now that I know you’re here, so close and I’ve spent this night feeling the best I ever have...letting you go again would be even harder than the first time.” She kissed him. Kissed him like it was the only way she could continue living. Because she couldn’t find the words and didn’t think they would mean much even if she could. And she felt the tears rolling down his face and knew. Knew that there was no going back. Knew he had been hurting in the same ways she had. Knew that they had been torn apart so she could have her daughter but that they were always meant to find their way back together. That two broken pieces need each other to be whole again.

But on that sidewalk on a warm night in Chicago, Jay held her tightly and he knew. Knew he’d be okay.

Tags:

@h0llandshalstead

@mheart27

@amylouwho9

#jay halstead #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago med #chicago fire

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow : ch xix - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 19 / ?? - In which Emma makes her choice

Emma was seated to the right of Jasmine again when they began to dine, Killian seated to the Sultana's left. If Emma didn't currently feel a sense of absolute frustration beyond anything she ever had felt for that man, she would have wished him closer for the way the four men sat across from them leered at her. Raja patted her hand in a comforting gesture from his seat next to her own, his paws giant over her sweaty palms. His deep, soulful eyes read hers with sympathy as the dinner began.

"So, Princess Emma, is it?" Jafar smiled widely, stabbing at the vegetable tart served to them as their first course. "Regale us on how you acquired such an illness while eluding capture in your family's overthrow. It must be a fascinating tale."

He smirked at her, biting a piece of asparagus viciously as she tried to keep an easy-going grin plastered on her face. The way he drew out words as if she was some shallow and simple girl made her skin crawl.

"Oh, I'm not sure how I caught it really," Emma cut at the tart, making tinier and tinier morsels. "I only know that whatever it is, it's baffling the most talented team of healers I have ever seen."

"Well, it looks similar to an ink blot hex -" Hades began, but Emma shook her head, and he paused.

"I know. That's what they thought at first, because of Killian telling them about the black bruising." Glancing at Killian, she saw him stop pushing food around his own plate with a frown and stiffen. All eyes at the table rested on his tightening shoulders. "He didn't know, and I was unable to explain that the bruising is a good thing. I was gifted a soot sprite blessing by an ally. Killian…" Emma hesitated as she saw him stab at his food, but Jasmine patted her knee gently to push her forward. "Out of fear of poisoning, Killian disposed of medicine given to me by an ally to combat the illness before I could take it. He threw their herbal remedy into the sea. These soot sprites have been helping me, and are one of the only reasons I am here today. It was a mistake that cost me precious time; as they treated the charm, it weakened. I got worse. Now they are praying it continues to last."

"Oh, Princess, I'm so sorry. I'm sure the Dark One must have not done it maliciously," Arthur said, frowning. "It seems as if you both trust each other quite a bit -"

"We do -" Emma tried to interrupt, but Killian glowered at Arthur darkly.

"The Dark One is right here, and had no bloody idea about a soot charm, herbal remedies, or anything these 'allies' of yours gave you to possibly kill you; if the Dark One had known, he gladly would have mentioned it on behalf of the Princess." His words were clipped and seeping with animosity. Emma swallowed hard, and Arthur looked at her with worry, eyes darting back to look at Killian. Their plates were taken away as more wine was poured and various cheese, fruit, and bread was provided.

"Ah, a soot sprite charm. Interesting indeed that it's helping. That is effective for a very limited scope of illness," Hades nodded, rubbing at his chin. "Where did you find such an ally that could weave such inane magics?"

A chill ran down Emma's spine, Hades eyes piercing her with a fixated precision.

"Oh, we have been in the Mortal world. It's changed more than can be even explained," Killian shrugged, and Emma nodded in turn. Not a lie, but not an admission of where the Dragon and Kitsune base was, or that it still existed. Killian pressed on, a lazy, indulgent smirk settling on his features. "I'm sure you have not been recently?"

"No," Jafar sighed. "I've heard they have the most interesting machinations though."

"Their wars are what excite me, and luckily, you need not be there to experience it when you have recorded written histories," Hades smiled softly, propping his chin in his palm. "The beauty of the ever cycling world that is mortal pettiness."

"As if we Fae are much better," Ali mumbled. Emma looked at him, his dark eyes surveying the meat now sliding onto the table.

Arthur laughed, clapping a hand harshly on Ali's back. "Quite right, quite right - Always the altruistic idealistic ponce, this one."

Ali frowned deeper, picking at his meal.

By the time dessert began, conversation had become a sort of cyclical pettiness itself. Hades, Arthur, and Killian had begun a sort of verbal sparring over each other's intelligence as Jafar egged them on with a satin finesse, Ali pushed small bits of food around his plate while only looking up to gaze at Jasmine with a strange vehemence, and Jasmine herself gripped Emma's hand or thigh almost constantly as the men flirted or bragged incessantly trying to win favor.

Arthur seemed the most genuine in Emma's opinion, his heart broken by his would be queen, and seeking a tender hand to cradle it. He talked about his many feats of heroism, his philanthropic efforts, the hopes of his great kingdom, and how he would bridge a kingdom together with his own. Emma herself was surprised to find that he wasn't completely unattractive, and he seemed to treat her and Jasmine with a good bit of respect.

Jafar and Hades both seemed too dark and somehow deeply unsettling. There was something about them that made Emma feel as if they were predatory; a flash of tooth and spark on the eye that she could have placed in wolves. They both looked as if they were piecing together where the people around them were weak, waiting like snakes to strike. Hades seemed less confident than Jafar, warmer in a more personable fashion, but quicker to bouts of anger. Jafar gave Emma the creeps many more times over.

Ali was the wild card. Surprisingly, Killian had exchanged not a single barb with him when he had spoken. It was as if Ali did not exist to Killian, although Ali himself seemed to be half present; he flipped between wanting to be there and desperately wanting to escape. Emma could understand the emotion, although it had been over a year ago since she had last dealt with that specific unease in royal matters. Was his kingdom without social etiquette? Did being outside of the United Realms mean you did not follow any social constructs? But then, Jasmine, Jafar, Arthur, and Hades seemed to know most of the stiffer mannerisms and propriety.

It simply was bizarre how clearly Ali disliked the Sultana while he still fought for her hand.

When they rose to take an after dinner libation, Ali trailed behind. Holding back herself, Emma watched him approach a servant clearing their plates. They began to argue after Ali seemed to say something to shock the Palace staff.

"I don't care how much it costs. Do it. On my orders, and if anyone asks -"

"M'Lord, I m-mean you no d-disrespect, but your orders m-mean little here. You would need -" The servant stammered, and Ali sighed, taking off his turban to comb his fingers through his hair with exasperation.

"It was going to be thrown away, was it not?" Ali snapped at the man.

"Well yes, but -"

Ali took a step forward as the man cowered. "Then why -"

"Omar, what is happening here?" Emma asked, and Omar bowed low with a sputter. Ali looked irritated, his eyes narrowing.

"Princess, I am honored that you have remembered my name, but there is no need -"

"I asked for the leftovers not being reused to be given to the hungry people I am sure must live in this kingdom," Ali gritted out. "It seems, however, that is too difficult - "

"It's m-much t-too good to waste on them," Omar stammered again, and Ali's eyes lit with a dark rage. He gripped Omar by the vest, and Emma squeaked out a warning.

"Stop! Stop please!" Ali lowered the trembling man, who breathed a sigh of relief just as Jasmine turned the corner. Emma nodded at her, Ali still gripping Omar's vest as his fingers loosened.

"Just what is going on?" Jasmine chided, her hands on her hips.

"Ali wanted this food to be given to the poor living in your kingdom, Sultana. Omar was stating that it could not be done, and that it was too good for 'them', whoever 'them' is. I would hope no kingdom as opulent as Agrabah would have hungry people on the streets, but…" Emma trailed off, watching Ali step back with a look of surprise.

Jasmine raised a cocky eyebrow. "If we do, I certainly have never seen them."

"Maybe you aren't looking hard enough then," Ali challenged, Jasmine's jaw dropping.

"How dare you!" Jasmine hissed, but Ali only shook his head with a condescending smirk. "I look after this entire kingdom -"

"You look over things alright, Sultana. You look over the things you don't see, because your guards remove them from your view. Although, since you spend the majority of your time here in your gilded towers, it isn't surprising that you have no idea how many go hungry," Ali sneered at Jasmine. She scoffed, looking at him with rage.

"How would you even know? How dare you, how dare you -"

"Take this food down to the streets then. Tonight. No guard clean up beforehand, just them protecting you while you serve hot meals. Let's go. Right now," Ali challenged, Emma's eyes going wide.

"I - We - That's a logistics nightmare -" Jasmine said weakly.

"If the food will be thrown away regardless, Jasmine," Emma smiled, batting her eyelashes. "I've not gotten a chance to see the market -"

"Oh, not you too!" Jasmine groaned.

"I mean, the worst thing that could happen is some food allotted for waste gets a few more hours of potential use. Please, Jasmine?" Emma watched as Jasmine fought herself internally before sighing. Whistling with two fingers, Raja appeared a moment later.

"Sultana?" the Anisapi asked, eyeing Ali suspiciously.

"I want this food brought down to the plaza square, and my seated box brought before it. I am about to prove this," She pointed at Ali, glaring as her chin rose in defiance, “Fool that he has no right to disrespect me when in the grace of my hospitality.”

“Fine, then, Sultana,” Ali challenged. Omar scurried off, and Jasmine turned in a huff to walk away. Before she could get very far, Ali called after her. “But what if I am right?

Jasmine whirled around, stomping back to him to poke a finger into his chest. “You aren’t.”

Ali grinned cockily, and Jasmine fumed. “Willing to wager?” he asked in a silky tone. “I bet you an evening with me that you, Sultana, the Seer of the Sands, are wrong.” Jasmine opened her mouth to say something, but Ali raised a hand. “And no peeking into the future to cheat, Sultana. No. I wager you are very wrong. I wager you have looked at your life, at Kings, Queens, and Royal fuck all, but never the poorest you rule over.”

Jasmine sputtered, and Emma watched helplessly as the viewing box was brought to them. As she stepped inside to escape the awkward tension rippling off the two, she heard Jasmine’s clear reply.

“And when you are wrong, Ali of Ab’Dua, you will leave my kingdom to never return.”

The viewing carriage, or 'palanquin', for the Sultana was lined in velvet, Ali seated next to Emma so Jasmine could stare him down from her seat as they approached the public square. Emma tried to focus on the sweet and spicy scents that drifted in through the small windows, or the colorful stalls that they passed as Jasmine and Ali bickered. It seemed everything they spoke about had them opposed to the other, from the size of Jasmine’s guard to their personal preferences on fruit.

“Figs are pretentious, even to eat,” Ali sneered, as Jasmine raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“You would know all about pretentious, as a spoiled, privileged, man-child -”

“Projection does not suit you, Sultana,” he replied coolly. Emma could practically feel the flame of Jasmine’s wrath, the heat of it as hot as the outside temperature.

They arrived in the square in a silence that was thick with animosity, people scrambling to the shadows as if they were being chased away. Food was set forth as trumpets blared, an announcer stepping forward at the front. “The Sultana gifts you with this humble bounty, citizens of Agrabah. If you have not been fed, if you are hungry, step forward.”

The square stayed silent, the bustle of the market dying within minutes.

“See?” Jasmine pressed, smiling slightly. Emma looked down at her feet, a strange feeling in her gut.

Ali chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “I see alright. Your populace is terrified of you.” He stretched, cracking his shoulders and knuckles, then opened the door to the viewing box. The guards startled, but he gave a wave while he removed his fine clothes, leaving only a vest and trousers.

“Ali, what -” Emma hissed, gesturing for him to return. He shook his head and offered his hand to her. “No! I can’t, people shouldn’t know I’m - “

At her protests, he rolled his eyes again, looking around. Spotting what he apparently needed, she saw him turn a corner. After a few moments he returned with a visibly shaken man who held several bejeweled veils.

“Which one do you think suits this lady, good man?” Ali asked the man, who fumbled slightly.

“The emerald, sir,” the man whispered. His forehead has begun to bead with sweat, and Emma felt intensely bad for him.

“It’s beautiful. I’d be honored to wear such craftsmanship.” Emma smiled softly, taking it from his fingers. He flinched, but when her fingers gently took the material from his hands he relaxed. Ali placed several gold coins into his hands to pay, and the man’s eyes practically bulged out of his head.

“I - This is too much -” he stammered, but Ali shook his head.

“If you are hungry, if you have family that are hungry, or if you know anyone who is hungry: Please have them come forward. There is no ill will here. You are safe to do so.” Ali clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. “If you are hungry, eat.”

The man glanced over Ali’s shoulder, looking at Emma and Jasmine. Jasmine sat frozen, staring straight at him. Turning on his heel, he pulled away from Ali and walked straight around the corner. Ali sighed, looking defeated.

“Well, Princess,” Ali said sadly. “I hope you like your veil, and I wish you well. It’s a pretty parting gift seeing as I will soon be banished.”

Emma ran the silky fabric through her fingers, unable to look at Ali. She nodded, swallowing hard. It shouldn’t have made her feel so sad when he looked at her like that, but she knew without the blessing of the Sphinx he was right. He believed what he was saying with absolute certainty; Somehow he knew that there were hungry on the streets here. This was personal to him on some level.

Carefully slipping on the veil, she stepped out of the box even as Jasmine protested. “I wanted to see the market, though. This may be my last chance.”

“Well, then we shall have to see the market.” Ali smiled, offering his arm.

The market was beautiful, spices and shimmering draped fabrics displayed with care as callers barked out prices or pushed their goods in front of her face. Fish was plentiful, as were jewels, leather, and soaps, fragrances shifting constantly in the warm winds.

They wandered through the stalls for an hour or so before Jasmine joined them, wearing a hooded brown muslin dress. Ali appraised her with a grin.

"You rough up nicely, Sultana. You could be a street mouse any day -"

"Don't you mean a street rat?" Jasmine snapped.

"Oh no, you are far too soft and naive for that." He grinned, while her lips pressed into a thin line. "And street rats aren't generally as pretty as you are."

Jasmine blushed, Ali saying the last bit with a strange absent-minded surety. Emma smiled, falling back as the two began to bicker over fig prices, the merchant looking on with amusement. She stopped to rest occasionally, watching them prod at each other. It reminded her of not that long ago when Killian had teased instead of running from her.

" You don't want Ingrid to worry. That's so sweet." Emma teased, and he couldn't manage a scowl, only a slightly irritated upturn of his lips. "See, I'm right! Don't deny it -"

"We barely survived the wrath of a Sphinx, and a Satyr. They say third time's the charm, and it would give Ingrid the utmost satisfaction to be a means to my end." A twinkle of mischief lit his eyes and Emma laughed out loud before she could help herself.

"She did say she needs a new throw rug." Emma giggled into a coffee mug with a sideways glance. "We could take turns beating you."

When they made their way back to the viewing box, they encountered a long line of shabbily dressed women and children, a few men here and there. Ali quirked an eyebrow, ushering them to follow him through an alley, leading them around the people waiting for whatever it was. Turning a tight corner, they came out into the public square behind a fountain.

Jasmine's mouth dropped in shock as she saw the square full of people, some clearly in need of a healer and others skeletal. A pair of children in patchwork rags shared a loaf of bread between each other, both looking as if the wind could blow through their skinny bodies.

"Ali -" Jasmine tried, her voice thick as she swallowed. "I -"

"Sultana, I wish I had been wrong. Please know that now, before our wager ends," Ali said quietly, approaching her to put a hand on her shoulder. "With that said, I will see you tonight at sun down." He gave her a peck on the cheek, bowed slightly to both Emma and Jasmine, then disappeared into the crowd.

Jasmine looked stunned as they climbed into the viewing box, guards appearing to take them back to the palace as quietly as possible. Emma watched the Sultana stare out the window, half smiling, knowing that she was planning on making changes to benefit her kingdom.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

To say Killian found the Sultana's suitors annoying and disgusting would be an understatement. The time with them was torture, an exceedingly cruel and excruciating exercise in hatred. For one, both Jafar and Hades seemed eerily interested in his workings, bombarding him with unsubtle questions as if he was on display. They asked how the Darkness inside him worked, how its presence in his day to day life was made known, if he remembered his misdeeds, and if he felt remorse as if he would answer these questions in casual conversation. Instead he offered monosyllables, eye rolls, or simply ignored the question as if he was a petulant child.

It suits you, you are a petulant fool of a boy.

Then there was the fact that they were all pompous in varying degrees that were still largely high, with astounding vain and narcissistic streaks longer than the worst nobles Killian had met. All three referred to Jasmine as an object once alone in his company, as if they were speaking about the serving tray their liquor was served off of, Arthur only adding Emma in as an afterthought. Jafar treated anyone around him except the other two men with a callous disregard for their intelligence, and an outright malicious streak to boot. Hades was not only malicious, but talked openly about his hatred for women and multiple types of Fae he considered beneath him. Arthur should have been a Saint next to them, but his rapport with the two struck Killian as not to be mistaken for coincidence. If it wasn't forced, there was something to be said about what lurked below his composure.

Topping everything was knowing that the so called 'Ali' was really the thief Aladdin, without knowing any of his intentions. What if they were in danger? Killian had suffered through this meal and now this after dinner dessert and drinks, while Emma had disappeared into the aether with no regard to anything. Again. What if she was a target? Or the Sultana, which could easily result in a wartime coup. He needed to get away from this group as soon as possible to regroup with Emma.

The Darkness reveled in the chaos as Killian chewed his tongue, trying not to explode.

"Yes. Do anything for that sweet princess of yours would you?"

It's too bad you are responsible for killing her. Do you ever tire of making the wrong choices? Imagine doing everything in an effort to keep your little secret love safe, only to destroy her every step of the way. It's insidious, and I don't even have to help!

"Dark One!"

Killian looked up to see the three suitors looking at him expectantly.

"I asked if your Princess told you where she, Ali, and the Sultana were headed!" Hades snapped, his voice cold. "You are the Princess’s lackey, are you not? Answer when I speak to you."

Killian grunted with a shake of his head.

"It's as if you don't want a cure for…" Jafar purred, rubbing his beard and curling its ends around his long fingers. "What was her name again? Anya? Emma?"

Killian’s eyes flicked over to stare at the grinning man, who leaned over, balancing on his staff.

Jafar shrugged, both arms coming to rest on the curved golden head of the cobra as he continued to stroke his beard. "I'd hate for anyone to find out that the Dark One not only sabotaged an alliance that tried to cure your Emma before landing in Agrabah, but during their stay as well. Can you imagine?"

The Darkness cackled in his head as he seethed behind an impassive stare.

Your Emma. If only they knew that she could never be yours without you obliterating her.

"Honestly though Dark Thing, where did Emma and Jasmine get off to?" Arthur asked in a bored drawl. "Ali has one, someone should have a fair shot at the other; tis only fair."

"Ask a servant. I don't know, they were here, went to the kitchens, and then were gone with half of the guard. I assume they went to the market for whatever reasons," Killian bit out. "If you're so bloody inclined to see where they got off to, why don't you head there yourselves?"

"Among the peasant scum?" Arthur asked as his face wrinkled with disgust. "Absolutely not. If I wanted to smell of camel dung, there are easier ways."

"Right, well. Then I'll excuse myself." Killian stood, giving a nod.

"Yes, go fetch the Sultana and Princess, this behavior is silly. I can't do tests for this mysterious illness on a corpse. I mean, I could, but it doesn't seem preferential." Hades grinned icily and shooed Killian, the other men laughing. He left without complaint, heading down to the market with practiced ease. Taking a corner shortcut he'd discovered, he was surprised to hear Aladdin's voice. The man was arguing tersely with another as Killian stopped to listen.

"I risked everything getting into the palace for you, and I got caught. They know to be on high alert, and if you think -"

"Relax, Abu. She can't see us, we've cloaked the future from her."

"As if that isn't suspicious -"

"It's not. She won't be able to tell. Djinn magic is the only thing that can take on Djinn magic. We have Djinn magic that I stole." Aladdin let a sly chuckle. "This job will be easy."

"It's not easy, and I'm not going to help you. Not when you're working with -"

"Abu!" Aladdin hissed, and the Anisapi gave a series of scratchy chirps.

"I'm out. I'm out, and I'm not risking it. I like the Sultana. I think today should prove she can change. What you want and what they want aren't the same," Abu said sadly, leaving in a scamper as Aladdin called after him. The Anisapi turned the corner around Killian without notice as Aladdin trotted behind.

"Tough break there, uncommon thief," Killian drawled, pushing off from his lean against the wall. "Maybe betraying the Sultana and the Princess is not such a grand plan after all. Why are you here? You know you will be caught soon enough."

Aladdin laughed, clapping his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Not unless you say something. Which you won't."

"Oh? That's presumptuous of you."

"Yeah." Aladdin smirked, standing straight as his eyes glinted. "I know you are the reason that Emma is sick. You caused her illness."

"That's impossible. How could you possibly -"

"The Princess talks. She talked to me in particular, desperate for someone after losing her best friend, who I assume is some type of elemental, and another close friend: namely, you." Aladdin smirked as Killian's jaw began to work. "It's very clear with a little bit of her sad back story of how you ended up in Agrabah. You were both close before you underwent some rite together, that no one can supposedly remember, then afterwards you avoid her and push a wedge between yourself and her. The question is, are you trying to kill her? Is that why you threw her medicine away and keep blocking her from getting better?"

"Of course I'm not trying to prevent her recovery, I never meant to hurt her!"

Aladdin grinned, as Killian realized his admission. "So you did cause it."

"You - You great bloody -"

"Ah ah, Dark One. Unless you want your princess to know everything, I suggest you listen to everything I'm about to say. She trusts me now, more so than you; and I can safely say now with certainty, you have feelings for her. Keep your mouth shut and I won't tell a single soul about what you did during the rite. Deal?"

"I have no feelings for her, and you have no proof - "

Aladdin laughed again, examining his fingernails. "Neither do you. Shall I lay out your malfeasance, and hope for the best against my own?"

"You -"

"Deal?" Aladdin offered again, a sharpened edge to his voice.

"Deal," Killian grumbled, watching Aladdin turn away, his strides confident. They walked back to the palace in silence. Just past the gates they met the Sultana and Emma as they stepped from their boxed palanquin, Killian falling back as Aladdin moved towards Jasmine and Emma. Aladdin kissed Emma's cheek to her delight, earning a giggle as Killian felt a hot and unpleasant bitterness fill his body.

Arthur stepped from behind a hedge, a rose in his fingers that he presented to Emma with a bow. Aladdin frowned as Arthur pulled Emma into the gardens, something unspoken passing between him and Arthur before they separated.

Unease began to prick at the back of Killian's neck.

Emma sat at the fountain side, her hair in a braid similar to what the Sultana seemed to favor, Arthur sitting next to her as they watched fish swimming. She looked relaxed, splashing her feet and laughing as Arthur animatedly told her something with large hand movements. Resigning himself to wait until the two separated to try to speak to Emma and at least get ahead of Aladdin or anything he could do, he returned to his chambers.

He heard Emma return hours later as he studied Agrabah's constellations and their strange alignments, the sun long since disappeared from the pocket realm's sky. When he approached to speak with her, she was already in conversation with the Goblin from before, Iago.

"What if it is him, Iago? These dreams have to mean something. I thought it was someone else, I thought it was… I thought it might be," Emma hesitated and he heard her sigh. "The man had different eyes than Arthur. They weren't - Arthur's eyes are green, with hazel gold. But everything else, the rough hands, the rings, the soft accent when whispering sweet nothings, the dark hair and bit of scruffy beard starting… Iago, what if Arthur is the one who keeps invading my dreams? The person I thought it was… it couldn't be him. He isn't kind, he is selfish and hurtful, and just… infuriating"

"You said that the man in your dreams makes you feel safe and loved?" Iago asked. There was a sound of something rattling, then a light clatter.

"More than that, I loved him back. It feels as though I'm so close every time I wake up. I just desperately want him to be there instead of leaving me alone again. In the last one, he was… He kissed me. We kissed each other. I think - he saved me from something, but I don't know. Everything is so jumbled."

"The runes say that he knows your feelings, but is frightened. They say your dreams are leading you to love, and that he wishes to be with you as much as you wish the same. But… "

"But what, Iago? Why are you frowning, what do you see?"

"There's many obstacles for both of you. There's darkness in this man's past… And in his future. Be careful with your heart, Princess. Be careful who you trust it with."

"Thank you, Iago."

"My pleasure, and honor."

Killian swallowed thickly. His time was running out, she was remembering him more and more, Arthur a replacement in his stead. It broke him as the Darkness hissed, squirming to constrict his lungs. It paralyzed him as it drilled deep through his sorrow, then as if it was a corroding acid, began to burn away all of his once secreted feelings.

When he was able to turn the corner by Emma's room at last, the Darkness crowed in its triumph, all love for her eradicated finally and for all time.

Somewhere deep, deeper than the Darkness had ever dared to look, something within Killian burned .

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The smell of flowers and soft breeze playing with her hair does little to lessen the heat of him holding her.

"Is this a dream?" Emma murmured, pulling away slightly. "It has to be, because you, it can't be you. You're not here. You would never treat me like this, I would never forget if you did."

"Love," His arms wrapped around her tighter, his dark hair tickling her cheek. A calloused hand gently caressed the back of her head. "I will remember for you, and keep you safe. It's better that way."

"Please, I know it isn't you." Heat was pouring from him, his arms too tight but still somehow so comforting. Emma could feel flame licking her as she pushed him away. "You're not like this. This isn't you."

He took a step back, and the sadness in the blue of his eyes froze her. She shivered, missing his warmth against herself. Her chest ached, and the air had become thin as cold seeped into her bones. "Emma. I'm so sorry."

"Stop it. Just -" It couldn't be him. It wasn't, it couldn't be him. Not him, not those eyes that screamed secrets at her; not the way he looked at her now with such anger and hatred. It wasn't him.

His shadow seemed to grow as he turned away. Emma reached for him, unable to control her need for warmth as it began to snow over the bright flowers in the garden. "It's better for you to forget."

"No, please don't leave me!" The wind whipped around her, snow hitting her face like freezing needles. It blanketed the world around her, absolving it of color and sounds outside her teeth chattering. Her breath puffed in the air as she yelled his name -

"Killian!" Emma sat up, panting under the plush blankets as she shook. A coughing spell hit her with force, and she rolled onto the floor from confusion, unbalanced from the sudden awakening. The floor was cold under her skin, sweat trapping her in the sheets. An attendant quickly ran in to help her up.

"Oh, Princess! I heard you call out, what - oh you are burning up, let me -" Emma heard the Elven woman sigh as doctors and a few more attendants swarmed the room. She took a stumbled step forward, caught as more gasps sounded and her own breath would not come.

In the dark of unconsciousness, it was uncomfortable and painful, eyes fluttering open on occasion to see bright light shone into her pupils or concerned faces poking her with this or that. The Sultana made appearances, as did Ali among the other suitors, but him more than most. Killian only appeared behind her eyelids as she tried to escape the strange dreams that featured him front and center. Her brain and heart were just as sick as her lungs for him to be appearing with such emotion.

In the quiet she listened, straining to hear any sounds that could be him, only conjuring more hazy images of the imposter that haunted her dreams. His laughter and the thrilling feel of his lips against her own were so much more than she had ever hoped for. When she heard the soft hum of a man's appreciation, her hopes grew high until Jasmine's whispers identified who had made it.

"I'm scared for her, Ali. She's been a good friend, and I - what if you don't find a cure? What if no one does, or if Hades or Arthur -"

"Jasmine, it will be alright," Ali whispered in reply. "You have been a great friend to her too. We'll figure something out. With Jafar gone, Hades is working overtime, and Arthur wants… He doesn't want to marry you. He has his heart set on Emma. We're working together to identify a cure."

"Thank you, Ali. I know I should not hope or show bias, but after our date… After everything , I feel very strongly that…"

There was a soft sigh, and Emma could hear the sound of their mouths moving together as she tried desperately to fall away into the blackness. Their date must have gone well, if they were this enthusiastic with her as an unwilling, unknown audience.

The idea of being kissed like that, or of comfort brought by someone in the name of love, pulled her back into dreaming. Temptation lay underneath her fingers tracing trails under a naval suit, or letting a firm hand linger on the small of her back while they swayed. Emma fell back into memories of waking up enveloped in warmth, the flutter of happiness that burst upward when she stirred and was immediately comforted by a gravelly voice. What has she done to ruin the way he smiled at her while they danced? Had it all been a dream?

When it faded next, a rough hand squeezed her own, the owner's voice accented and quiet. Her heart beat quicker in anticipation.

"Princess, your beauty is still undeniable, even now."

Emma coughed, turning her head with slight difficulty to see Arthur appraising her.

"You're awake! Oh, Princess, I'm so happy to see those beautiful eyes of yours."

Emma felt a strange disappointment, but smiled back softly. "Wha -" The words broke off into coughing that left her clawing at her throat.

"Water for the princess! Please!" Arthur shouted, sending attendants scurrying. "Emma, hold on my delicate flower. I've got you."

A servant brought water, Arthur snatching it from his hands to pour into her mouth. Emma pushed his hand away as she sputtered, spilling water over herself in the process. Taking a small sip eventually, she sighed, turning to look at him. He was frowning, wiping away water from his tunic with disgust.

"I'm -" Emma felt her lungs constrict and her throat burn even from the smallest bit of speech. Her attempted apology stuck like a shard of glass she could not swallow, sending her coughing again. When she looked at Arthur for help, she was surprised to see him looking at her with anger as if he was disgruntled. When she collapsed back against the bed again, it was if she had imagined it.

"Oh, you sweet rose petal. It's alright. I know you didn't mean to get water on my velvet. It's fine. Lay back, let me speak for you as a King would for his Queen." His face was soft, and he gently stroked her face with a cloth. Though he was a great relief as he spoke orders to the servants, doctors, and attendants, his words didn't comfort her; Something there unsettled her, his bright smile half heartedly returned as she pondered on why.

Maybe it was in the way he spoke over her, even in their moments alone together, or insisted that she should rest her voice so he could continue his lengthy monologues. There was also his treatment of the servants and her doctors, his orders given sharply as he ignored them otherwise. A realization hit her suddenly about her discomfort: Arthur reminded her of home.

He reminded her of the courtiers, the many nobles that her parents admonished or grumbled about for their treatment of people, and their attitudes in general. Her father had used his powers as King to block her suitors, but she had been flirted with by men like Arthur. She had not tolerated it then, but now it soothed her, and Arthur charmed her…

If she did accept his proposal, she could return to normalcy. She could love him as long as his veneer did not cover deeper problems than the banality of nobility. Coughing again, Emma pulled up the covers around herself.

"I've gotten myself some breakfast, and a grapefruit juice for you. I hope that you don't mind, I didn't know what you would like," Arthur said, accepting a plate of meat. He dug into it vigorously while Emma was given a tall glass with a straw. She eyed the liquid suspiciously. Grapefruit alone was a questionable breakfast, sour and entirely too much for a sore throat. Taking a sip, she gagged.

Arthur didn't notice right away, too engrossed in his ham, bacon, and sausages. When he did notice, he sighed and took away the full glass.

"What would you like then, little flower? Some yogurt? Pudding? Maybe a hot drink?" At the last suggestion, Emma nodded vigorously. Imagining silky hot chocolate or tea had her mouth watering. Jasmine had introduced her to a spicy mix of tea and something like cinnamon milk that had calmed her stomach but also made her feel invigorated. Trying to speak and failing with a squawk, Emma reached down to write down the drink for Arthur.

"A Kay Tea? Kye? Chay? I don't know these foreign foods, maybe a nice hot water with lemon -"

A servant interrupted, Arthur's eyes going steely. "Chai, a chai tea. It's popular here, and we also make a hot rice drink that is very good for -"

"Did I ask you to speak?" Arthur gritted out, Emma pulling on his sleeve to get his attention. The servant shook her head, stepping back. "You deserve better than these strange commoner's peasant fare. I'll get you some actual tea."

Emma shook her head, annoyed, but Arthur began to talk about his home and their varying teas. Emma's mind began to wander when he spoke about artisanal rose blends, thinking about a life in a strange kingdom. At least it was above ground, and had florals.

Tea was brought for them, and she took the tea cup carefully, examining the details. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the herbal taste. It wasn't what she wanted but it transported her home, to the marble floors and carved arches in the palace, the stone walkways and brightly lit rooms with their gilded mirrors. She could hear the rustle of skirts, clinking of spoons against small dessert plates, or the muted laughter of whatever nobility was presently sitting in front of her.

Arthur smiled broadly at her as she opened her eyes, taking her free hand in his. "I did so hope you would like this better. You deserve the best life a royal woman of your pedigree can get."

Emma sighed at his choice of words, but a smile hadn't left her face since the first taste of his gift to her. Curling her hand in his, she managed to clear her throat.

"I like it very much."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Arthur left in the early afternoon, kissing her softly and leaving with another peck on the crown of her head. There was business to attend to, her cure to work on most prevalently. Emma had felt worse since her last nightmare, alarmingly feeling something move around her chest as if there was a sticky ball rattling within the cavity. The doctors were still perplexed, doing their best to keep the soot sprites alive as the true issue remained elusive. Emma needed a cure, badly. Every day, the time she had grew shorter.

Despite it all, she resolved to hide it the best she could. Not willing to spend her weeks in seclusion or in bed, she wanted to keep her kingdom safe and be with her friends. They would be the family she could not have. They would have to help her finish what parts of her journey they could.

Killian would get the shard, and Jasmine would take over the United Realms as a proxy ruler until a ruler was announced. Emma prayed whoever it was, her parents and the rest of her family would be spared for her failure. It was the best she could do in the worst case scenario that she was living. At least Killian would be free, and maybe even happily living his life. He could be with Ingrid and Anna, carefully seeking out where they could get a house somewhere with a bakery and a garden. Maybe he would laugh more eventually, or smile, even with the Darkness free to abuse him further. The thought of him baking some pastry with flour in his hair made Emma feel a bizarre mixture of happiness and deep sadness.

Ignoring it was enough for now. With what time she had left, she promised herself not to fixate on the mysteries that made up Killian.

"You shouldn't be here, darling," he whispers, holding her hand. They're both shivering, the water from the rain frigid and mostly ice. He tugs her forward as they climb, thunder pounding around them as lightning illuminates the woods. "Why did you come to my nightmare?"

"You can," Her hand slips on a slick stone, feet digging in the mud. She's still barefoot from before. He pulls and she is again next to him, lifting her onto a rocky ledge. "See me?"

"I always could. I couldn't do anything but watch, I can never do anything but watch it happen." Holding her while they both shiver, soaked through, he runs a hand through her hair to push the clinging strands away from her face. The wind is strong, making even her dress flap in its gusts. His arms feel safe, even as her bones vibrate the warning of impending doom. As if he knows, he holds her tighter. "I could see you. I could hear you, and I could feel your hand in mine or when you bandaged my side. I'm sorry you had to see this."

"Killian…" Emma whispered, his forehead meeting hers. "Killian, don't go. Please. Don't let it take you from me."

There's a great clap of thunder, shaking the ground and roaring like a great monster. Killian pulls from her, her hand still in his as he moves away.

"I'm sorry. It's better if you forget."

The Darkness is in its full glory before them, Killian looking at her with those eyes as it sucks him in. Clamoring for his hand but held by unseen forces and howling winds, Emma tries to bring him back to her, tries to hold on and not let go. Wind swirls around her, spinning until she's unable to breathe in its vacuum and let's go of his hand as she falls.

"Breathe! That's it! She's coming to!" Someone was speaking, and Emma took in a hiss of air that hurt to exhale. Shaking off dizziness, she stared directly into the worried eyes of a doctor, Jasmine, Prince Ali, and Abu.

"What happened?" Her mouth felt dry, but her voice was back to a rasping drawl.

Jasmine hugged her tightly, followed by Ali who easily wrapped his arms around both of them. He was wearing sleeves instead of just a vest, and Emma was about to tease them both for their matching formal dress, but stopped short. She held her tongue, examining the long, jagged, scars that ran up his arm. Confused, Emma tried to talk, but Jasmine put a finger to her mouth.

"Hush," Jasmine admonished. "You were walking with us in my apartments, then you collapsed. Are you alright? What happened?"

"Oh. I think I must have simply over exerted myself," Emma mumbled. Jasmine's eyes narrowed, and Emma shrugged sheepishly. "I'm still learning my limits, so I just needed a break I guess. I didn't have much of a breakfast with Arthur."

Ali pushed away, looking at her with concern. "You had breakfast with Arthur?"

Emma nodded. "In fact, I had come here to ask when his meeting with cure researchers would be over. I'm curious about their progression."

Ali scratched the back of his head, exchanging a glance with Jasmine.

"Why don't you come sit down in my quarters," Jasmine asked politely. Abu smirked, looking at Ali as they helped Emma inside with the Anisapi guarding the door.

Inside the chamber was a massive bed and vanity, with a sheer and dark set of curtains blocking a large balcony. Jasmine and Ali helped Emma onto the bed where she laid back against the heaping pillows.

"What's the bad news, then?" Emma whispered. Ali swallowed hard, and Jasmine looked at her with a sad smile.

"How do you know it's bad news?"

Laughing lightly at Jasmine's question, Emma cocked her head slightly. "When is it ever good news?"

"Jafar is gone. He - he was disqualified for an attempt at… He's just gone," Jasmine stated carefully. Ali looked angry for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Where is the bad news in that?" Emma asked carefully.

"He took all the research, and ruined Hades and Arthur's. They were struggling to find a cure without this setback." Jasmine looked down. "We don't know -"

"I understand."

"Emma -"

"I don't need to hear it out loud. I don't need you to confirm what I'm already feeling. Tell me something else instead." Grinning, Emma pointed between Ali and Jasmine. "Like how your date was."

Jasmine blushed deeply, and Ali laughed with a smirk.

"It was very nice." Jasmine smiled, looking to Ali with clear affection.

"It must have been for you both to make out in the room of a sick person. It was an interesting wake up call." Emma giggled, Jasmine's eyes going wide as Ali burst into laughter. She blushed a bright red as he tickled her with the ends of her braid. "You two look happy. Not to rush things, but if you like him, fuck this entire suitor nonsense. Choose him."

"Emma!" Jasmine choked, laughing. Ali curled an arm around her and sat, nuzzling into her side. "It's - I want to know someone. We are doing just that, and I like this. Is that not what you are doing with Arthur?"

"I suppose," Emma said coyly. Ali stiffened slightly, and she leveled her gaze at him. "Maybe tell me about this date of yours, and why it was so very nice."

Jasmine wove the tale of a starlight ride by magic carpet across her kingdom, shared honeyed fruits and tarts with pistachios baked on top. Aladdin showed her beauty she had never seen before, his modesty shining through embarrassment while he blushed. He occasionally added in moments, both of them laughing at the inside jokes they shared.

Emma felt the same pang of sadness even through exhaustion, the same doubts that twisted into fear in her stomach. She could never imagine this with Arthur, and certainly not with Nil. The only one that had ever made her feel close to the warmth Jasmine and Aladdin gave off was…

His eyes were soft, and she wished that he could just remember more strongly than ever as thunder rumbled outside her tiny cottage.

"Stay here tonight. You… You told me once that you hate thunderstorms. I don't know if that has changed, if this you does or not, but…" Emma begged unabashedly, half asleep in his arms by the fire. "Please."

Even in her exhaustion, she reveled in his proximity. Looking down at her, he smiled sadly. “I'll stay, I always stay."

"Even if I don't remember you at all, please don't go," Emma whispered, and he nodded.

"I'll stay. I always stay." Killian whispered again, holding her closer. Emma was sure her heart was breaking, the truth in his statement clear as crystal. He believed it without question, but Emma had heard the same promise fall from his lips before. "I will stay."

Burying her face in his chest, she prayed this time it was not a lie.

Emma woke in her chambers, attached to various equipment by strange tubing, spells or wards hovering above her that rhythmically swayed. She blinked, confused, looking around to see Arthur by her bedside once more. He was engrossed in a book, his dark eyes scanning the pages.

"Anything… interesting?" she asked, with a cough catching her on the last syllable. He held up a finger and continued reading several moments longer, then closed his book.

"No, I'm afraid not. Mostly Naval tactics for bracing a coastal kingdom against raids." Arthur shrugged slightly. "Nothing I didn't already know, and certainly not reading that you would find interesting. You need to focus on getting better and not pushing yourself with such difficult topics."

He pressed a finger to her nose gently as if his quip diminishing her intelligence was amusing, then placed his book aside to get better seated next to her. Emma bit the inside of her cheek, irritation at his dismissal making her wish she could argue. Her lungs burned from the effort of a few words; the conversation that she wanted to have would be far more than that at best.

"I like… Strategic… Planning… I like… Battlefield… Tactics… They are -"

"Sure, sure, my rosebud," Arthur interrupted, patting her hand as if she was a child. "Now, I'd like to talk to you about something actually important, something that matters. Please pay me attention?"

Emma stared at him in frustration, giving him a grunt of acknowledgement.

"You fell asleep in the Sultana's chambers, so they brought you back here. You're pushing yourself too hard." He squeezed her hand, and Emma felt conflicted once again. Although annoying and pompous, Arthur was trying. He was attempting to be kind. "You need someone to help you, and to share your burden with. Especially now."

A spasm in her lower body sent her coughing, the intense fit making her back bow. She was sure that her ribs were close to breaking from the strain.

Arthur wiped her forehead dutifully. He sighed again as she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face.

"My sweet flower beauty, my dream, my Emma… Will you marry me?"

Emma's eyes shot open wide, her heart racing. She could not speak, pained gasps catching in her throat as she stared at the ring box in his hands, the giant sparkling diamond in its center surrounded by rubies. The immediate hatred of its gaudy settings almost eclipsed her need for air.

"Need… to think -" she tried, and Arthur nodded.

"I understand, but I have something you need to see before you say no. It's important." His smile faded.

Arthur began to talk, and Emma's heart sank.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Pacing the floor and practicing what he would say to Emma had become Killian's only way of handling her strange schedules of late. When he requested her, or simply strolled by her quarters as he often did due to their proximity, Arthur or Aladdin were not far off. Either that, or the princess had taken to small walks or napping which he could not blame her for in her condition. There had been minor commotions that he had heard the tail end of, but when he made sure that it was safe he only found servants, attendants, and perplexed doctors scrutinizing his presence.

"Hello, Princess," he began, still not over his anxiety at trying to broach his distrust of the suitors along with their timing. "I have something of urgency to discuss with you."

"I want nothing to do with you, and your mood swings. Poison another Princess, Dark One."

The Darkness sneered in a falsetto impression of Emma's voice, and he felt like a green lad again. His heart beat rapidly as he gritted his teeth and continued.

"Regarding the suitors and their timing -"

"Yes, fortunately they came so I could be relieved of your presence. Thank the Gods for it; Arthur is a wonderful catch."

"- I believe that it is due to a planned surveillance attempt, and that they are seeking out our weaknesses. I think they are planning something -"

"Planning a ball, or an event for me to be paraded at. I'll be a figurehead once more! I'll be better off with him and you will never have your freedom."

"To do you harm. I know that I have made many mistakes." Licking his lips, he swallowed hard. "But I would never let harm befall you if I could prevent it. Your well-being, your life being safe…"

Understatement, vessel. You are the harm she needs to prevent. Her well-being is worthless as long as you and her Goblin betrothed exist. Except that your fate is me and her fate is to die some broodmare.

"It's the only thing that makes it possible to ignore the Darkness," he whispered, and in turn the Darkness growled in a low rumble of fury. "Please consider what I've said."

He practiced repeatedly, until a knock came at his door. A voice called out behind the wood, one of the servants. "Ah, sir? Your presence is requested by Arthur in the library. Are you able to -"

Killian opened the door, brushing past the messenger as he walked straight to meet Arthur. It was a bold play on their part, but if he could talk to Emma first… He passed her room, noticing the lights dimmed within. Jasmine and Aladdin sat on a lounge, whispering to each other while an herbalist created a purple smoke that smelled of thick mint and blackberry. It poured over Emma, who behind the veil of her curtains did not move much more than a shuddered wheeze.

He couldn't risk it now; Emma would have to understand the delay in his confessions.

The walk was brisk, his haste to hold off the Darkness, any other visitors, and her illness setting him in double time.

The library doors pushed open, the deep purple walls within lit by a fire bowl resting in its center. Arthur sat lounging on an emerald and magenta couch smoking a hookah in large puffs, smiling broadly as he saw Killian.

"Well hello, Dark One. Nice of you to join me, care for -"

"What is it that you need, Arthur?" Killian growled. The room was filled with a light layer of smoke. "I have things I need to be -"

"I thought you and I might share a celebratory drink and smoke. I hadn't gotten a congratulations yet and it's probably untoward without her actual confirmation, but…" He took another long drag of the hookah's hose, puffing out a long tendril of smoke. "I digress."

Killian grunted, waving a hand in the air to clear his vision. "I have no idea what you're talking about mate, but I don't intend to celebrate with you. If you'll excuse me -"

"I proposed to her. To Princess Emma, I mean."

Whipping around, Killian took a step forward, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. "You what?"

"I proposed to her," Arthur repeated. "She's dying, Jafar is gone, Hades can't find a cure, Jasmine isn't interested in me, and Emma is. I'm not going to waste the opportunity to be considered a viable candidate to rule in her stead." He grinned, rubbing his beard in thought. "If I can get her to last through a marriage ceremony, that's all the better. If she can stay alive longer than that, I can claim loss of an heir by her untimely end. She knows it's in her best interest to accept."

"She won't. She'd never -"

"She would. A servant said she asks for a Goblin to dissect her dreams that I am in. It's just a matter of time." Arthur smirked, leaning back in the chair. "It's alright to be jealous, Dark One. For all your fearsome reputation, the fact that you haven't drank your fill of her is surprising. If I was in your stead, I'd have left her wrapped around my fingers both figuratively and literally!" he laughed, and Killian stood abruptly, storming away.

Arthur sprinted up behind him, still chuckling. "Come now, don't be angry, I was only joking. She's a fair maid if I've ever seen one. Even this illness can't dampen her beauty or how her body moves with so much…" He gestured with both hands, making two mirrored curving motions. Killian's teeth ground together, his muscles tensing. " Grace ."

"Arthur, mate, if you know what is good for you, you will -"

"Are you mad about her dying? Is that it? I thought the Darkness in you would rejoice at that, especially since the shard is in the care of the Sultana." Killian turned on his heel, the Darkness heavy as it pushed up from the binds he'd tried to place on it. Arthur followed, at his side hounding him with his mockery. Covering his mouth with his hand, he mimed a face of false confusion and shock. "Oops. I guess you didn't know? And here I thought you and her were close."

"I will tear you apart mate," Killian snarled. "I will rend you limb from bloody limb -"

"So that's it then. She's your weak spot, the Darkness isn't at rest. I had guessed it was on a thin leash chomping at the bit, but no. It's right under the surface if you know where to dig." Arthur's smile was wide now, his eyes dark. "How very, very interesting."

Hades appeared from the gloom, becoming corporeal from a column of dense, black smoke. "Can we drop the charade then? I'm frankly ready for this to be over."

"I'd rather wait for Emma's answer to my proposal, as now that the Darkness is awake I believe it will be a long while until our cover is blown. The shard awaits you, Dark One." Killian felt himself slipping further with each second, the undertow pulling him down while raising the Darkness from where it had laid in wait. It had control now, its prior mutterings nothing compared to its screeching at him as Arthur smiled. "You simply have to take the matters into your own hands."

"My… Own… Hands…" Killian heard it speak through him, his panic rising as he lost control. "The shard. The shard ."

"Go. Get what was taken from you," Hades added before disappearing.

"It lies in the treasure vault near the Sultana's apartment. Get what is yours, Dark One. Get what is yours and return to glory." Arthur gave a small bow, and Killian felt the Darkness pull him away, moving him against his will through the palace.

"No! This isn't right -" he gritted, and held on firmly to a carved column. A servant stared at him as he passed, hurrying away much quicker when a fresh snarl rose in his throat.

Get the SHARD.

Get the shard and be done with this!

"No, I - I can't -"

How dare you deny me? I am your master, I am you!

"I won't. I have to protect her, I have to warn her!" He tried to move his foot, but lurched forward instead. In an instant, he was before the treasury Arthur had mentioned, the magic on him fizzing from the internal power struggle. The door locks were enchanted, but the Darkness controlled his left side, his arm lurching forward to touch the lock. It clicked open within seconds of dark magic drenching it in full force.

"No! Stop!" His right hand caught the door frame and held tight, the left side of his body pulling him forward as the right held back. He groaned in pain as the Darkness attempted to tear him in twain. "I will not let you, I won't!"

He violently slammed to the ground, his left hand pulling him forward as his nails dug into the marble tiling. Several guards approached in concern but the black magic of the Darkness spun around him like a cobweb, dropping him in front of the pedestal that held the shard. He heard shouts of confusion from a small distance as his left hand made a flicking motion, barring the door with a screech of the locking mechanism.

MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE AT LAST YES IT IS MINE -

Killian wrestled with himself as his left hand desperately tried to close around the chain, throwing himself back with effort. He pushed back at the Darkness desperate to get it under control as it broke him, bent him, and refused his hold.

Realizing with keen certainty there was only one way out of this, he took a deep breath, then let go of control. The Darkness grabbed a hold of the chain, shrieking its triumph, and Killian used its momentary lapse to move them.

As he appeared in Emma's chambers and stretched to throw it at her, the Darkness became aware at the same moment as him that something was wrong, his body frozen with his arm stuck mid-throw.

His eyes widened further to look at the grim faces surrounding him, all but a grinning Arthur wearing varying states of disgust.

"Emma, bloody hell, I -"

"As you can see, we caught him using Kraken ink. It temporarily causes paralysis, even on the most powerful of dark magic." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose dramatically. "He went for the fake shard without a moment's hesitation, and then I believe his return to your quarters, Princess, was with the intention of taking your life."

"No! No, I swear it, Emma. I swear I realized that I was out of control, and I was scared for you. I came to return it. If it's left where I can find it, the Darkness will never stop. You must hide it again -"

"A likely excuse now that he's caught!" Hades pointed out.

Turning his eyes towards Emma, he realized just how long it had been since he had seen her. She was a gaunt caricature of what she had been with hollowed cheeks, the skin beneath her eyes darkened to the color of bruises. Her hair stuck to her face in stringy strands as her chest struggled to rise, and she breathed using a strange line of tubing in her nose with obvious effort. Her eyes were still bright jade, staring through him as they grew glassy and she tore them away from his own.

"Emma, please..." His fingers twitched at the attempt to reach for her, his arms stuck by the ink’s magic.

Emma shook her head, unable to look at him.

"I am begging you Emma. Aladdin - Ali - is a thief and working with these two; I don't know why. I don't know what they're after, but they aren't working on a cure. Don't listen to a word -"

"Princess, I'm so sorry for this. I didn't want you to have to know the truth when I thought the Dark One and you were so close," Hades began. "There is no cure I can find, because… Well, because Ali discovered from the Dark One's own admission, he caused this illness in you."

"That's - Emma please listen to me, I never - I wouldn't." Killian felt his other arm twitch upwards, Emma's eyes downcast. "Please let me explain!"

"No. No, I think you have done enough," Aladdin said, quietly. "You told me that you were the cause, and I kept your secret because I feared for the Sultana and the Princess’s lives. Now that it's out in the open, we can admit that we are no match for the Dark One's handiwork."

"That's not -"

"Take him away," the Sultana hissed. "I want him in the dungeons, lock him in the best cell we have. Unless, do you have objections Emma?"

"I…" Emma looked up, coughing for a moment as she stared at him with clear pity. "I have no objections." The whisper of her voice made him swallow hard, managing a small nod.

He was led away, placed in the dark damp of a cell so much like the one he had lived in before, wondering again if this was the punishment he so rightfully deserved.

#Courtorderedcake #21st #July #2020 #July 21st 2020 #CSSNS #CSSNS 2019 #CSSNS20 #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #cs au #cs ff au #captain swan fanart #my writing #my artwork

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blizzardhologram · 4 years

Quote

Tell me to talk when I'm quiet tell me to shut it when I'm not tell me to go when I'm around ask me why I'm not there when I'm gone tell me to be around be allowed be enough be a shoulder to lean on for the less fortunate to heave on shed no tears for the years I let my self loose, let my self be gone from my family from the ones I love tell me to keep my chin up my head down when all I do is stare up at the stars waiting for tommorow like ain't got today hoping everything will be okay wishing for everything to change praying for alot doin not even half of what I want watching the clock tick away wishing I could just get out of my brain take a lil vacation just a little break cause all I know is it ain't gonna be okay I don't mean to be pesemistic but that's just how I am expecting the worst so when I get something good Ill be surprised and offer up the prize just to live another day see the light at the end of the tunnel but ignore the light posts on the way sit down in class give my life up for laughs and tell everybody to get out of my way because in the end maybe it may get better someday but somehow I always find a way to be bitter cause that's just how I cope with all the smoke blurring my vision tell me I'll learn my lesson when this is all done tell me it was all just fun and games tell me it will all be okay but we both know it ain't because that's just the way to the world, right stab me in the back cover my face with this hat go to sleep just to do it a again spread all this hate like you making pb&j, I just don't think any of it's okay because after all, we are all just kids, kids who come from kids who grew up too quick and just like them soon enough we will have kids who are the kids of kids who grew up too quick

“All the kids are Not okay” by Sarah Khan

#its just life my man

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alternatewarning · 4 years

Text

Darkness, Bathed in Blood - Whumptober 2020 Fic

Entry Number 27 (alternate prompt) and 30 for Whumptober 2020: Presumed Dead and Ignoring an Injury

Title: Darkness, Bathed in Blood Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: None Rating: T Triggers: Gore, torture Summary: Darkness has fallen on the whole of Eos -- fear always brings out the worst in people. A group of terrified citizens capture Ignis to try and find out where the crystal is and lift the darkness but no matter what he will not falter.

Cross posed to Ao3

It was impossible to determine how many days had passed like this, trapped. Outside the entire world was bathed in constant darkness, there was no reset signaling the start of a new day. Ignis thought that he had been here for about five days, but that was an estimate at best. There was no cycle, nothing to indicate when one day started and the next began. The group of people holding him seemed to arrive at random times and in random groups. So far he could pick out six distinct voices, two women, three men, and one more that he suspected was also male but they were quite young and their voice was quite high.

They would arrive in groups from two to six and then take turns. Sometimes they beat him, sometimes they cut at his skin with what he could only assume were knives. They often asked pointed questions in between the pain but they were asking less and less. They were probably figuring out that he wasn’t going to give them any answers. He had no idea who they were or what they wanted.

Clearly, the small group was ill-informed. They had bound his hands up in a chain, leaving just enough slack for him to stand, legs bound, with his arms held over his head. They had also tied a blindfold over his eyes which told him that they had no idea what they were doing. It was well known among the hunters that he was, for all intents and purposes, completely blind. So why bother with the blindfold? It meant they weren’t angry hunters.

“You wanna end this never-ending agony this time?” It was one of the women. Her voice was harsh, like someone had rubbed sandpaper over her vocal cords. Probably a smoker, when indulgences like that were commonplace. Just like every other time they prodded him, Ignis stayed silent, just listening. His only hope of escape was catching them off guard, somehow. While he could still summon his weapons, at this angle there was little he could do against the steel chains. He had already tried. Magic was also an option but without knowing where he was that just invitation disaster.

“Tell us where we can find the crystal!” The same woman bellowed at him. Only a moment later Ignis felt a small gasp forced from his lungs. A blade, a knife, was shoved into his stomach so deep that the hilt cut into his body. Before they had been careful, no wounds that would cause him to lose too much blood or possibly be lethal. Now they were either angry or stupid. She pulled out the blade and quickly forced it back in, tearing the flesh with the sharp blade

The hilt made a sickening squishing noise as it pushed up against the new wound and forced blood down his side. He focused on the details, on her voice, on the height of the wound, on the weapon, that way he could ignore the pain. She pulled out the knife and stabbed his gut a third time, this time with enough force that a hiss of pain skipped past his lips. She was no longer interested in his answers, she was angry.

The advisor could feel blood seeping into his clothes with alarming speed. These wounds were deep enough that if she kept going he could very likely die of blood loss.

“If you kill me, you will never get your answer.” Silence and then a burst of pain in his temple as his head snapped to the side. She’d hit him with the butt of her knife hard enough that he felt dizzy. While he’d angered her, he had pretty much proven that it was only the two of them. For a short moment, he absolutely lamented the loss of his vision. If he could see maybe he would know if she had a key to release him or not. Or even how his restraints locked. But he was not going to let himself be stopped by something he had no control over.

“Shut up! You’ve been playing us for fools for days and I’ve had enough!” Another slice of the knife into flesh. “You probably don’t even know where the crystal is! Which means you’re worthless to us. No one’s coming to get you, Scientia. So how about I just slice your gut open and let you bleed out on the floor?”

The venom in her voice spoke volumes. She was far past angry, instead fueled by malice and hatred. Each word was as sharp as her knife although he wasn’t sure why it was aimed at him.

“It’s all your fault! You and your idiot friends. If you’d protected the king like you’re supposed to we wouldn’t have to live in this endless night! I’m going to make your death slow and very, very painful.” She leaned in close, her breath tricking across his neck like a miasma.

Ignis forced himself to breathe even though taking in air felt like needles through his chest. He wanted to rebut her, tell her all they went through to try to protect him. To protect their king. But he knew it would be pointless. She wouldn’t understand, no one could. No one could ever understand the exact moment, watching his vision burn away and seeing nothing but his best friend limp, unmoving. To feel the only semblance of a family any of them had ripped itself apart in pain and grief. So he stayed silent. He let her bring her hatred against him wound by wound, absorbing her pain as his own.

Eventually, she slowed, the room punctuated by her heavy breathing and the constant drip drip drip of blood on the floor. He was feeling lightheaded and weak as if he would fall over if he’d been able to stand. It hurt to move, it hurt to stay still. He let himself hang from the chain holding his arms, even though he could feel his left shoulder slowly slipping out of its socket. It would be nothing like the pain of his body being torn to ribbons.

“You wanna know why no one’s looking for you?” She sounded smug but also winded. The fury keeping her going had ebbed into his body, tearing it apart with each slash. “We knew they’d come for you so we gave them your glasses. Broken, of course, and a little bit of blood. So now they all think you’re dead. And you will be. Any last words?”

She was right, he was going to die here. Here alone in some sort of shed or building, hidden away in the darkness. But none of that mattered. Not the pain, not the sensation of his body rending with every gasp of breath. What mattered was that he wasn’t going to be there when Noct woke up. That he wasn’t going to be by his side when he returned to claim what was rightfully his. And that hurt more than any torture or any blade ever could.

“My last words are you better get the hell out of here before I do you ten times worse!” Ignis startled at the voice, his head snapping up to see, as if he’d forgotten his world was nothing but an empty nothing. The voice rang in his ears, a welcome familiar comfort. It was deep and carried far, the voice of a man who knew how to both communicate and intimidate.

“Gladio…?” The advisor was surprised at the raspiness of his own voice which almost sounded like he had forgotten how to speak. There was a sudden, loud, thump and the clattering of something across the ground. He knew those sounds. A shield used for offense, Gladio’s full might behind a deadly bodyslam into the ground. And then the knife that had been soaked in his own blood hitting the ground and being kicked away by a trained soldier.

“Ignis, what the hell! I was told you were dead! I came here to collect your body.”

“You came?” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Maybe because the last time they had seen each other it had been a rather unpleasant exchange. He had a feeling that another was coming, a tirade on why he should be back at base and not out here, trying to fight. Certainly, this situation was going to turn the tide even stronger in Gladio’s direction.

Ignis heard the snap of steel and the chains holding him upright gave way. His knees folded but Gladio’s arm caught him, carefully lowering him to the ground. The other man’s arm felt like hot led against his skin or was he so cold that it made Gladio feel warm. Ignis felt faint as if he would lose consciousness at any moment.

“Please allow me a moment to recover, then we can return to base.” The Shield didn’t answer but he could feel movement and then there was a quiet mechanical click. The metal bindings on his legs were pulled free and the chain slowly unwrapped from his hands. As circulation rushed back it brought with it a familiar pain but the sensation seemed rather distant now. As if he was observing it in someone else.

“Iggy we have to get you back, and now.” There was no room for argument between his words. The man stood and pulled Ignis to his feet in turn. The sudden movement wrenched away his sense of up and down but he did manage to stay on his feet. He felt Gladio’s hand on his back, trying to lead him by pushing him in the correct direction. Their bodies were so close together that he felt the other’s body tense as Ignis wobbled, unsteady on his feet.

“Ignis-”

“Gladio, I will be fine. I asked for a moment, did I not? I just...need...a moment.” It was getting hard for Ignis to string words together. He didn’t even notice his own knees give in and Gladio caught him again, this time just shifting the other man into his arms. It was obvious by the paleness of his skin and the red soaking the floor that Ignis was bleeding out.

Without giving the blind man a chance to complain he started to carry him. He couldn't run without making the injuries worse so he just walked with steady, long strides.

“Gladio? If I die, please, tell Noctis that-”

“Shush. You’re not going to die. Just hold on, I’ll carry you. And I’ll keep carrying you until you can stand on your own two feet in front of him, you idiot. I wish you wouldn’t...no, this isn’t the time to fight. Just know I’m going to keep holding on.”

Ignis didn’t respond, instead, he just let himself relax into the strong arms that cradled him with a surprising gentleness. It was a long way to base and he knew he couldn’t hold onto his conscientiousness that long. So he was going to enjoy the sensation while he could.

#whumptober2020 #fic #no.27 #altprompt #no.30 #Presumed dead #Ignoring an injury #Final Fantasy XV #FFXV #gore tw #torture tw #ignis scientia #blind ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #world of ruin

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hyperionswrath--archived · 4 years

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@onepartbrave

If there was one thing that had finally gotten through Squall’s head that night, it was that Seifer genuinely seemed not angry with him. Despite the fiasco the previous night, despite the unwarranted trip down memory lane, despite his frosty nature that had only warmed due to inhaling too much drink. The blond was still amicable, considerate and bizarrely accepting of all Squall’s current problems and flaws digging out of the technical woodwork. Yeah, he’d just been called a constant pain in the ass but the tone infusing the words suggested nothing but camaraderie backing them. No vexation. No resentment. Just… comity.

Those facts eased a huge chunk of Squall’s stress away. Shoulders sagging slightly from the sudden weightless feel of being almost tension free, he pondered on what that implied next. Would they become friends, if only for the drunken night? Even if they weren’t, his unspoken trust in Seifer was starting to show. Considering over the last month alone, he’d allowed none to come near him, let alone take his hand. Here the man had held his numerous times and Squall hadn’t even decked him for touching—

No. Nope, we’re not going there. It was an accident, don’t overthink this for Hyne’s sake.

Eyebrows lowering into yet another frown, this time directed at his inner thoughts, Squall successfully banished them to the recesses of his mind and concentrated on the now. Like—how close the blond was. Sitting next to him, he predicted if he shifted his left knee a smidgen, it’d bump Seifer’s. Why was he so close? When had he gotten so? Had he really been so deep in thought he completely missed what occurred in reality?

Swallowing down what felt like a knot of trepidation forming in his throat, it feeling less ‘bad’ anxious and more ‘puzzled’ anxious, the entire night was becoming a far cry from the picture he’d had in mind. Previously, he thought they’d drink, eat, sass each other and retire to not see one another again. Now… they were still here, still hanging out, and had plans for tomorrow. I—I’m… Unable to finish the thought, he relaxed back against the rear of the seat, frown softening.

Should he feel uncomfortable? It wasn’t like they hadn’t had close proximity before; sparring ensured that, but this was different, new. New worried him but for a reason that consistently eluded him. True clarity was becoming a drawn-out battle and he’d always been better at the quick-paced, adrenaline fuelled altercations instead of a marathon skirmish. Sighing softly, he allowed his head to loll back against the squishy, warm backrest. …That shouldn’t be warm since they’d vacated their seat. Not daring to turn his head obviously, while Seifer made short work of ordering their water and some bread, he flicked a sneaky glance behind him—to see the blond’s arm present. Almost… around him?

Wha…?

Comprehension fleeting, Squall’s head turned to face forward and, with dawning realisation of horror, felt his face heighten a few degrees in natural warmth. He was blushing like a goddamned idiot and there was no way Seifer’s perceptive glare wouldn’t pick up on it. Shit. What’d I do? Do I leave? Move? Shove him away? Stay still and pretend I don’t know? Fuck—

Inherent ranting cut short by Seifer’s slurred baritone registering. Embarrassingly, clouded grey-blues shot up to try and meet vibrant greens. His mission failed as Seifer was busy thanking the waitress and looking all weird in the dim lighting and— Oh my god, I will stab myself if it makes me stop thinking.

“I—what?” he asked feebly, missing the man’s question entirely as his whirlwind of a mind had been occupied. With him. Ugh. “The… bread? Wa’ that it? S’good lookin’.”

Zipping an imaginary line over his dumb mouth, Squall sat slightly more forward and reached for the aforementioned bread. Breaking a piece off, he guided it to his mouth and took a generous bite out of it. Instant gratification overcame his tastebuds and (finally) his conscience silenced to appreciate the tasty morsel. Swallowing the bite after chewing, he quietly confessed, “Damn, t’is good,” before resuming his previous task, albeit with more enthusiasm.

When finished that portion, Squall grabbed a whole other small loaf to nibble on, mindful there was enough left for Seifer. His worries were amiss as many more little loaves remained. Satisfied with his finding, he shimmied back in his seat, and, in his blissful state of mind of not worrying, all caution was thrown to the wind. Reclining back as he went, he instinctively pressed closer to the searing warmth on his left side, relaxing honestly for the first time in weeks. While he worked on consuming his latest bready goodness, he observed the pub settings with muted interest, wholly uncaring he was essentially using Seifer as a leaning post.

…Warm.

Truth be told, there was an ever-burning fury somewhere deep inside of the tall blond, constantly burning and eating away at him. It had been there his whole life but had started blazing higher, burning fiercer during and after the war. Yet it wasn't directed at Squall. Not anymore, at least. While he had been the Sorceresses Knight, there was wrath in his every fiber, not his own entirely, clouding his mind and judgment. After the war, there had been seething anger about the fact that Squall had not only bested him inside the Lunatic Pandora, but also left him there to die. But that grudge wasn't upheld for long, for once he was able to reflect on everything that had transpired, the act seemed more than plausible. There hadn't been much humanity left in him when the witch pulled his strings and made him believe sacrificing Rinoa would be the right thing to do. The only right thing.

So, no, he harbored no ill feelings for the man anymore who in his mind had far more reason and justification to hate him instead. But so far, except for their first encounter the night before, there seemed to be no ill-feeling at all between them and it felt both odd and relieving. Seifer had carried the shame, guilt and self-loathing with him for so many years, he would have never expected to be treated as friendly as he had been, all things considered. Sure, Squall was still his old self in some ways, but there were also other sides to him he had allowed the blond to see and for all that he knew, they were good changes.

What exactly all of this between them meant, he dared not think about. Granted, he had always been a man of action first, thoughts second, and right now he was willing to just let things happen as they did, not question anything. And if they never saw each other again after tonight (well, there were already plans in place for the next day though), then so be it. Still, a small voice in the back of his head dared to hope that this was a way to redeem himself, if only a little. Maybe that, too, was the reason he felt so protective of the younger one?

Happily chewing on his spoil, namely the goodness that was the potato wedges, thoughtful eyes following the retreating waitress, he only paused when he felt a slight bump against his right arm, making him glance to the side. The look on Squall's face was enough to make the tall blond chuckle lightly, pulling in his lower lip to bite on it though unable to completely wipe the grin from his face. He'd be a liar if he'd claim he didn't push the boundaries between them right now, and much against his better judgment too. What about the whole 'I can never touch him' vow he had taken? But then again, the reaction this small brush of head against arm had caused was entertaining enough to throw at least part of that determination out the window. After all, he was still the smug shit of the town, right?

Even more intriguing, however, was the observation he now made. Squall blushed. And not just a bit. Most interesting. He'd probably be pushing his luck by now but before he could even stop himself, his hand had shifted just so, allowing his thumb to briefly flick over the now heated skin of Squall's neck, brushing at the soft brown strands there. Dangerous as this game may be, he had to admit it thrilled him, and whatever was able to do that to him usually flicked the switch of being reasonable (well, as much as he was able to, anyway), and just go all in. And right now, he was most curious what kind of reactions he could provoke and, most importantly, how much deeper this blush could get.

Apparently, it was enough to distract the brunet from what he had asked, flustering the guy enough to give some entirely unrelated answer which only served to tug on Seifer's lips more, creating a lopsided smirk. "Very." he hummed in agreement, not even sparing the damn bread one single glance. Willing to let his teasing of an entirely different kind go for the time being, he busied himself with his water, glad for the chance to help to mellow his drunken state a little. He wanted his attention on full alert right now. Also, Squall was well advised to eat that much bread to help him along with the amount of alcohol in his system. It wouldn't magically sober him up but at least help a little, which had been the plan when he ordered it. On top of that, for some reason watching the other eat had some kind of fascinating appeal all of a sudden?

Emptying his glass, he placed it back on the table, releasing Squall from his observing stare as he leaned forward to snatch his own small loaf, chewing slowly while he mulled over the entirely unexpected development of events right there. More so even when he felt the smaller body sink against him, leaning on him. Looking down at the brown tuft of hair he hummed, half astonished, half content because he'd be damned if this hadn't been one of his ultimate teenage fantasies. Well, among others, but he'd be content to have this to remember in the future. Lingering in his position, his arm on the backrest still, he swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. Not the kind he had noticed a while ago when dark memories started rushing in. This was different. Better. "You good?", he heard himself murmur and only then noticed that somehow, he had leaned down, the tip of his nose not far away from brown hair, close enough that he could breathe the other in. Shit, what exactly was he even thinking here? Was he thinking at all?

#onepartbrave #.me while typing: seifer NO #.him: seifer YES #.there you have it #.you set him loose #.have fun with what you did #. xDD ahhhhh~

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

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Athazagoraphobia (Last Part)

She wonders if this is what fire feels like as it splays across skin. The raw patch on her chest tingles painfully as though it is trying to let her know that it is spreading.

She resists the urge to check, in part because she doesn’t want to know but mostly because she doesn’t want to raise suspicions in her father.

Her mind drifts to her fire once more, for as single heartbeat she ponders burning the spot of rot. Maybe, by some miracle, it would burn the infection away.

But she knows that it is too late; the same bruning tickles her hip and lower back.

“We just need to get past them and then we’re home free.” Zirin points. Azula follows the line of her finger to a band of afflicted.

Ozai, with no word of warning, blasts a few of them off the side of the pier. The remaining cluster faces them in unison. “Father!” Azula hisses.

“They’re corpses.” He shrugs. “Don’t tell me that you’re slower and dumber than a corpse.”

He was the one who’d made the impulse decision, yet it is her cheeks that burn with shame.

“She only means that rash decisions are dangers, Fire Lord.” Li comes to her defense.

Before he can snap at Li for her disrespect, Azula mumbles, “let’s just clear the rest of them out.”

Not that her father needs any further prompting.

Zirin is another matter, she scans the docks for a moment before reluctantly attacking. Li lingers on the fringes of the first while Azula sets flame to the neglected wooden pillars that support the dock. Several more hosts dump into the waves where they disappear into the murk. The remaining few shamble closer and Azula’s heart seizes all over again.

The girl’s braid is scraggly and unruly and her shirt is in tatters. Her stomach is wide open and dragging innards. She must have bled out already because the only other thing that trickles from her belly are waving tendrils. In a most morbidly uncanny way, the girl is still beaming from ear to ear as she had in life.

Some manner of undignified and stressed sound escapes Azula’s lips. A pair of cold, wrinkled hands come to cover her eyes, keeping her from inspecting her former friend further. “You don’t have to look at that, princess, you’ve seen enough already.”

She silently thanks Li for the small mercy.

When Li removes her hands, Tylee is gone and her father’s hands are still smoking. He looks at her with a rare expression of sympathy.

It is nearly enough to unravel her. “Let’s just get on one of those boats and get out of here.”

Zirin wanders to the nearest dock.

“Wait!” Azula calls. “Come here.”

Zirin steps back and Azula releases her held breath. The has a churning carpet of silver-blue as though the parasites have eradicated the seaweed and took its place. It clings to the rotting wood in an evil parody. “Let’s use that one. This dock is about to crumble.” Azula lies.

The dock next to it looks just as rickety. But the boat tethered to it, though small, looks sturdy enough.

.oOo.

Azula had never been a fan of the open ocean but today, the salty spray is a breath of fresh air. And there is a certain comfort in knowing that, should she throw up, she can blame it on seasickness rather than infection.

For the first time in a little over a month, she can truly rest easy.

When night falls, she finds that her exhaustion is finally potent enough to overpower the nightly replays of her traumas.

She finds herself out cold.

Her waking is just as unpleasant as she knew it would be. Her belly burns and her chest flares hotter. She finds her sheets sticky with blood. It takes everything in her not to scream. Her blankets are thoroughly soaked and cling to her skin. When she moves them, chunks of skin peel away with it.

Her head reels with a new found sense of fear.

She wonders how Li is faring.

She sneaks on deck and cleanses her disease riddled body with ocean spray. It stings like hell but she can’t let her father see that much blood.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Zirin muses.

“Finally?”

“It’s been three days.”

Azula bites her lip, her anxiety swelling that much further. “Three days…” she repeats. Zirin nods. She rubs her palms against her eyes, feeling thrice as stressed. “How is Li?”

“Well enough, princess.” Li declares.

She wanders to the bow of the ship where she finds her father at the wheel. “Ah, you’re awake. Would you like to take the wheel?”

She peers at the maps he has spread out and nods. She could use a distraction. He pulls up a chair for her. She takes her seat and falls silent. Ozai’s hand is on her shoulder. She flinches as a stabbing sensation fires off in her belly.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in a manner that suggests more annoyance than it does concern.

She swallows and shakes her head. “My leg is just bothering me. I’ll cope.” She has no choice but to do so.

Ozai smiles, “I raised you well. Your brother would have fallen as soon as his bone split.”

“I see another ship!” Zirin declares from the mast. “Should we check it out? There might be other survivors.

Azula doesn’t like it.

Doesn’t trust it.

The boat is just floating there, directionless. Bobbing without aim. “It’s a dead ship.” She calls up. A new feeling of dread rises, knowing that the parasites have already reached the seas. It is an ill omen.

An exchanged look with her father tells her that her father shares her thoughts.

Not that it matters, her body is already decaying.

She is already dead.

Whatever control she may have had over the hosts and parasites, the possible answers and cure will die with her.

She takes her father’s hand and squeezes.

.oOo.

It has been nearly a week since they drifted away from the dead ship. Li has taken to ranting about how this must be the Spirit World’s way of punishing for the war and the disharmony it has created. “Sozin used that comet to disrupt the balance of the world and the spirits used it to take vengeance.” She declares again.

Azula’s heart sinks; the old woman must be slipping. Or maybe it is simply natural for her mind to turn towards more divine explanations. Azula doesn’t particularly believe that the spirits have the power to embed disease into a comet. Especially not with an Avatar to act as a buffer.

She doesn’t bother debating spiritual matters with Li. She hasn’t the energy for it and she would like to keep Li as a companion, especially now that her father has taken to avoiding her. It stings worse than the raw patches that have finally reached her neck and face.

She thinks that she has grown used to the searing feeling that they bring. Perhaps the rot has eaten away the nerves in her cheek.

Her leg is nearly healed, but the ship doesn’t provide her with many places to walk to. But she is restless so she takes to pacing from one end of the deck to the next. She holds her crutches just in case her leg decides to lock. She wanders below deck to wash her face. The action is rather pointless, serving only to make her feel like she has some semblance of hygiene.

The face reflected back at her is red, flushed by the warmth of infection. She is beginning to think that the parasites like the heat and that, that is why they have imbedded themselves within her. She can burn them away, but perhaps freezing them out would be better. She had been a fool to delay getting to the tribes for so long. And for what? A man who can’t even look at her anymore. Azula fumbles through medical supplies until she comes to gauze and bandages.

She delicately covers up the oozing patch before returning to the deck. The exposed parts of her face are met with significantly nippier air that tosses her tangled locks all about. “Good morning, father.”

The man doesn’t turn around.

“We are nearing the tribes…”

“Do you think I am a fool?” He asks.

“No, father.”

“You hide an infection from me and then you imply that I can’t tell when we are close to our destination.” He would strike her if he weren’t so disgusted by the notion of making contact with her.

“I only meant to start a conversation.” She mumbles.

He waves her off.

“I’m dying, father. I want…” what does she want. “I want you to care about me before I do. I want somebody too…”

He holds up a silencing hand.

A friendlier hand falls upon her shoulder. “Come on, princess, it’s chilly up here, lets get you inside.”

“Before what!?” Azula snaps. “Before I catch a cold.”

Li doesn’t even flinch. “Before that man takes the fight out of you.”

“That man is my father.”

“No father would treat his girl like that.” Li grumbles.

Zirin climbs down the mast, “I can see the main land.” She declares. “But with all of these glaciers to navigate it can take another week or so to reach it.”

Azula is in no rush anymore. “Thank you, Zirin. I’m sure that my father would be interested.”

“It’s almost over, princess. The journey is almost through.” Li reassures softly as Zirin saunters off. Azula isn’t sure if she is referring to their days of sailing or their days of living.

“Yes.” Azula acknowledges. She stares off at the very distant landmass. She isn’t entirely sure that Zirin hasn’t mistaken a particularly large glacier for the tribes.

.oOo.

The auroras, she has always heard, are stunning.

Mystifying.

But Azula finds them eerie and unsettling.

They blaze across the sky with spectral fingers that reminder her all too much of the ones weaving in and out of her festering skin. They lick and lash at the cosmos, reaching out to touch each and every star as the parasites had made contact with people.

It is more than that though. Azula can’t place it, but she thinks that there is something in there, hiding between the teal and green curtains.

Something sinister.

Something that has touched the Northern Water Tribe in the same way that Sozin’s Comet had breached the Fire Nation.

She swears that, when Li and Zirin stop exchanging conspiracy theories, she can hear whispers in the lights.

Swears that the parasites flick and flit in time with the cosmic display.

Azula shudders.

She hopes that her mind is simply clinging onto residual paranoia. Not that paranoia isn’t due. She retreats to the semi-safety of below deck.

She doesn’t return to the deck until the auroras are gone.

They are a day away from the Northern Water Tribe and Azula can’t rid herself of unpleasant tingles of fear. Sunlight glints off of the snowy landscape before them.

“Are you going to slow us down?” Ozai asks.

Azula bends and unbends her leg. “I don’t think so.” She thanks Agni that she can walk again. She had anticipated her father having to carry her through the snow. In current she knows that he will sooner leave her behind than come close to her.

His question was a fool’s question; she doesn't need to slow them down, the sheer amount of snow and lack of equipment does that.

The port is close enough to the city that Azula doesn’t fear that they won’t make it but comfort is a lost luxury. Azula drifts closer to Li the nearer that they get.

“Shit, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Zirin declares.

Her optimism is somewhat vexing.

Azula scans the faces of the guards atop the icy wall. They are stony and unforgiving as the terrain they overlook. If they are guarding the entrance this readily, it must be a sanctuary. Still, her unease doesn’t subside.

“We’re survivors seeking sanctuary!” Zirin calls up to them. “And warmth. Warmth would be great too.”

Azula shivers to herself.

Warmth.

Safety.

That would be heavenly.

The men exchange glances. And Azula shares a look with Li, her look of weary resignation is mirrored by Azula. She knows exactly how this is going to end. “Search them for infection!” One of the men declares.

Li squeezes Azula’s hand.

Already, they have noticed the distance between the two of them and Zirin and Ozai. “Which of you are the healthy ones?”

Ozai hesitates none before gesturing to himself and Zirin.

“Inspect them.” Says the head guard.

“Strip.” Commands his partner. Zirin wastes no time. Ozai on the other hand scowls. “A Fire Lord doesn’t strip before peasants.”

“But a refugee does.” The second guard replies. “Strip or get back on your boat.”

Azula turns the other way as her father drops his robes. She waits a few minutes after the man calls, “clear” to turn back around. “Put them in the quarantine quarters until we are certain that they won’t develop symptoms.”

The gates open and Ozai and Zirin are beckoned inside.

“Father…” Azula says.

He has the decency to look back, but no more than that.

A normal person might cry, but Azula finds that she has no more tears left. She has nothing but a solemn acceptance. She still has the dignity to hold her head high. The only warmth in her body and soul radiates from the infection.

She watches her father disappear into the safe-haven. She wonders how long he will last; how long they will tolerate his intolerance and malicious intent.

Flurries throw themselves violently at her as she stares at the wall. At the glorious sanctuary that she can’t enter. Even if they let her in, she likes to think that she has too much honor to bring a plague to the last cluster of humanity.

“We’re alone…” she trails off.

Li nods. “I told you that I would accompany you until my last breath, princess.”

Just before she pulls her eyes away from the wall, she sees him. Her heart falters. He looks at her with pity and...regret? For a moment, she thinks that he going to plead with them to let her in. To give her a chance. But he doesn’t know that she isn’t contagious--she has a thought; a bitter acknowledgement that the cold might be enough to kill the parasites. That with time, the patches of rot might heal.

She opens her mouth to try to convince him of this.

He is not paying attention to her, other than a nod in her direction.

She holds her breath and waits.

His attention is fully on her again, his face grim.

“I’m sorry that I left you there.” Zuko calls down.

Once again she opens her mouth to speak. She doesn’t have the chance before one of the guards lifts his arms, dragging with them a large spike of ice. Azula’s vision goes hazy, she hears Li’s body thud next to her.

She looks up at Zuko in shock more than anything else. He winces and mouths something akin to, “she’s not dead yet.” And to her directly he says, “I’m sorry.”

A red spray soils the otherwise pristine white.

Suddenly it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Nothing hurts.

There is nothing.

She has time for a single parting thought. A thought that she is free.

Finally free. Free of torment and fear and paranoia. Free of her own mind and of that which plagues her. Zuko had left her chained up and the parasites had made a prison of her own body. But Zuko has set her free.

Her decayed cheek hits the snow and her body goes still.

With nowhere else to go, a cluster of pulsating silver-blue wisps burrow beneath the snow.

The strong adapt.

#Avatar #Azula #Lo & Li #Ozai #Zirin #Zuko #Fanfiction

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