#he said “My birth mother sat there and watched as I was brutally murdered.”

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

thinking about how Jason Todd is the anti-thesis to the bystander effect. No, I will not elaborate. < 3

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

You matter - Aaron Hotchner x fem! reader

A/N: So a lot of you seemed to like my last one about hotch and trust me i have plenty more! I also have some for spencer and am currently writing a mini series for derek so if anyone’s interested in that let me know. Enjoy.                                Warnings: Mentions of a case, swearing                                                                Word count : 1,762                                                                                                  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat in the lobby of the hotel; my head held in my hands. This case had taken a toll on all of us. All we wanted to do was to get back to Quantico and get a goodnights rest in our own homes, in our own beds. But apparently mother nature had other plans. A storm had been brewing all night – thunder, lightning, rain – the whole lot. So, we’d been made to stay another night in the local hotel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad hotel. If anything, it’s one of the nicer ones we’ve stayed in throughout the years, but the frustration from not being able to go home grew in all of us. I was so wrapped in my own thoughts I didn’t notice someone taking a seat next to me. 

“You okay?” Hotch’s voice made me jump. I placed my hand over my chest. 

“God you scared me.” I said chuckling. Hotch smiled at me. 

“Sorry, you just looked like you could use the company.” He replied. I sighed. 

“Yeah. I guess I could.” He studied my face for a moment. “

Are you okay?” He seemed hesitant in his words. Mine and Hotch’s friendship is quite a casual one. We occasionally see each other outside of work, I’ve even watched jack for him when Jess wasn’t able to. Hotch had confided in me with some of his deepest secrets. Nightmares, regrets, worry’s about not being a good father. But I listened. We’ve never discussed my thoughts, my feelings. And that’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden to him, or any of the team. So, whenever they had a problem, I would sit and listen. I’d comfort them, try my best to give them advice or simply let them get their feelings out. But when it came to myself, I push all those feelings down. Until my key hits the door. 

“Hey.” Hotch nudged my arm. I hadn’t realised I’d been gazing at the wall ahead of me, once again caught up in my own thoughts. 

“What’s going on? Talk to me.” He said softly. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

 “It’s just this case you know. I get that our job is to get inside the mind of these psychos, but I can never understand why people hurt kids.” I explained. 

“We can never truly understand why these people do what they do.” Hotch replied. 

“That’s not true. In most of our cases, I do understand. I’m able to see the reasons as to why they kill. I never agree with them before you think I’m insane.” Hotch chuckled stiffly at my words. 

“But when it comes to kids, I never understand it. There’s no logic, no sense to it. And this case especially. As if torturing them wasn’t enough, why then display the dead bodies for the family to see? I mean the families have been through enough, the child went through enough. I thought this guy would have some shred of humanity left not to fucking humiliate and scar them all afterwards.” I could feel the anger building up inside of me. There’s something I hadn’t told the team. And now it was about to come bursting out. 

“I know they have no emotions. I know they don’t think the right way. I know that biologically that there is something wrong with them. I know the facts. But it still bugs me. And the fact he was fucking laughing when we brought him in. That sick bastard.” I stood up and started pacing. Tears were threatening to spill from my eyes as I ran my shaking hands through my hair trying to cling on to any sense of calm I had left. 

“I hate him.” I spat. All hope of remaining collected went out the window. Hotch stood up and came towards me. 

“Y/N, listen to me calm down.” He reached out to place his hands on my arms. 

“No. This isn’t fair. Abbey didn’t do anything” 

“Abbey? The last girl he killed?” Hotch asked but I ignored him. 

“She was seven. SEVEN HOTCH. All she wanted to do was go to school, live her life, play with her friends. Instead, she ends up being kidnapped, brutally torched and murdered then get’s her dismembered body presented on her front lawn like she was some kind of abstract art.” I was hysterical at this point. Crying, yelling – I couldn’t stop myself. 

“I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.” I pounded my fists against Hotch’s chest with every sentence, until I eventually wore myself out and collapsed into his arms sobbing. He held me, letting me get everything out. I could feel his hands gently rubbing my back, soothing me. We were now crouched down on the floor and at some point Hotch must have moved us to a corner somewhere as his back was resting against a wall. When I eventually stopped crying, I noticed I was half sprawled across his lap. I didn’t have the energy to stand so I just shifted myself, so I was comfortable and able to face him. He gently brushed the hair out of my face. I couldn’t meet his gaze. I was embarrassed to have lost it like that. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He replied, softly 

“Can I ask you a question?” I nodded at his words. 

“Why is this effecting you so much? I understand this case has been a brutal one but it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with this level of torture. It’s certainly not the first child killer we’ve dealt with. So, what’s changed?” He took my hands in his and begun to rub small circles around them, offering me a small sense of comfort. His tone was soft. I could tell he was asking from a place of genuine care for me. 

“I knew her.” I confessed. Hotch’s hand stilled on mine. “She was my niece.” Hotch looked slightly puzzled at my words. 

“But her parents, they’d never seen you before?” He asked. 

“Well, you know how they told you she was adopted when she was a child? And that her birth mother passed away a few months after they took abbey into their care? Her mum was my sister. Making abbey my niece.” I explained in a low tone. 

“H-how long have you known?” Hotch questioned. 

“I’ve known for a while. I knew before we took the case.” I replied. 

“You knew this entire time and you didn’t say anything? Not even when we found her?” Hotch sounded shocked. 

“I just couldn’t face it at the time. We needed to find the Unsub and I didn’t have time to let my feelings get in the way. They weren’t important.” I said looking at the ground. Hotch sighed . I felt him placed his finger under my chin and gently guide my eyes up to meet his. 

“Listen to me okay, your feelings matter. They will always matter. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to have seen that yet continue to work the case and I’m deeply sorry for your loss. But please, never hide your feelings from us. From me. You’ve helped me on countless occasions, and I apologize if I haven’t made you feel like I could return the favour.” I shook my head. 

“No this isn’t you Hotch. I know I could’ve mentioned it to you. I just –“ I hesitated before  continuing. Hotch continued to stroke my hand softly. 

“I’ve spent so long having to just deal with my emotions alone. I’ve never really had anyone who cared enough to listen, so I’ve just learnt to keep it to myself. So now I have you, a-and the team, it’s just hard to open up you know?” I explained. Hotch gently reached up and placed his hand on my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed as I leant into his touch. I didn’t realise how much I craved his touch until now. 

“I understand. But I hope you do know that you can talk to me. About anything. Whenever you need me, just come, and find me. Yeah?” I nodded slightly at his words. I could feel tears beginning to slip from my eyes again. Hotch slowly wiped them away with his thumb. 

“Thank you. For everything.” I whispered. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” He replied in soft tone, smiling at me. “I love you too much to watch you suffer alone.” His voice was low, almost at a whisper. My eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“Y-you love me?” Hotch sighed at my words. 

“I’m not expecting you to feel the same, but you needed to know that you’re loved. By no one more than me.” He explained. I just starred at him trying to process what he’d just said. I’d had feelings for hotch ever since I met him, but I’d never been 100% sure until now. Slowly, I leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It wasn’t long, but enough for him to know I reciprocated his feelings. As I pulled away, he looked at me slightly shocked at my actions. I looked at him nervously. Maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe he was just saying to make me feel better. Shit, what had I done? Before I could regret my choice any longer, Hotch leant forward to reconnect my lips with his but this time it was deeper – with a lot more passion. He cupped my face in his hands softly, as if he was scared to lose me. I shifted on his lap, so I was essentially straddling him. I felt him smile against my lips as he placed his hands just above my hips, holding me close to him. My fingers interwind in his black hair tugging slightly. Eventually we had to pull away for air. 

“Hotch I-“ 

“Aaron. Call me Aaron.” He said cutting me off by placing his finger to my lips. I smiled at him. The smile he returned to me in that moment was brighter and fuller of joy than anything I’d seen in the past. My cheeks flushed red as I suddenly became shy, so I leant forward and buried my head in the crook of his neck. This caused him to chuckle, sending warm vibrations throughout my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and held me flush against him. We stayed like that for a while, just enjoying our newfound love for one another.

[wardlowsbabydoll]

But I'm the Only One Who Needed Saving

Numb.

That was how Jupiter felt.

How could she have not put the pieces together sooner? She was a genius for crying out loud!

But, nevertheless, here we are. Hope and Jupiter trapped together in an unknown location.

The Wolfsbane, Vervain, and Witch Hazel still lingered in their system making them weak but it was wearing off. Jupiter heard footsteps outside the door and began to act as if she was still unconscious, Hope looked at her twin sister confused until she quickly caught on and did the same.

Their kidnappers walked in and checked them over.

"We'll get a pretty price for the Mikaelson twins. The great and powerful tribrids at our mercy. Klaus won't know what hit him." The first man said as he stared at Jupiter making her uncomfortable.

"Come on, they're both still knocked out. It'll be more fun to taunt them when they wake up." The second man replied and they both walked out of the room again, locking the door behind them.

Once they were sure that they were gone, they sat normally. Well, as normal as you can sit in severe discomfort.

"Jupiter, what are we gonna do?" Hope whispered weakly.

Jupiter hesitated for a moment, thousands of plans and thoughts running through her head all at once.

"I'm not sure." Jupiter whispered back, feeling slightly defeated.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Hayley yelled at Abby when they arrived at the Quantico center.

"Ms. Marshall-" Hotch tried to intervene only to fail as the hybrid continued yelling at Abigail who was extremely upset at the disappearance of Jupiter.

"MY FAULT?! IF YOU HADN'T SHOWN UP HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS WOULDN'T OF HAPPENED! JUPITER WAS FINE! SHE WAS SAFE! SHE WAS HAPPY! YOU ALL COMING HERE RUINED THAT!" Abby shouted back at the hybrid, now being held back by her husband so she didn't kill Hayley.

"SHE'S OUR DAUGHTER!" Hayley screamed in Abby's face.

Abby snarled and tried to go for Hayley but Sam kept an iron grip on his wife, although he too was starting to get angry at the she-wolf's words.

"YOU NEVER FUCKING TREATED HER LIKE YOUR DAUGHTER YOU BITCH! FUCKING KOL, DAVINA, KEELIN, AND MARCEL PRACTICALLY RAISED THAT GIRL FROM BIRTH! WE TOOK HER IN AND MADE HER A PART OF OUR FAMILY! SHE IS OUR DAUGHTER NOT YOURS!" Abby screamed back, her vampire face now on display, and began giving Hayley an aneurysm.

"Control your wife!" Klaus yelled and that was the last straw for Sam who let his wife go and began to go after Klaus only to be held back by Derek, while Klaus was now being held back by Elijah.

"ENOUGH!" Sophie yelled, grabbing all of the adult's attention.

"Stop it! Now is not the time for this! We have to find them!" Sophie yelled now that she had everyone's attention.

"SoSo is right, Mars and whatsherface could be in some real trouble. The other murders were brutal but they were to grab attention and corner them. Haybitch give me your hand." Kai said immediately snapping into investigator mode which made everyone slightly surprised. Hayley growled slightly at the nickname but nevertheless gave the male Heretic her hand.

He used a silent spell to slice her hand and allow blood to drip onto a map.

"Technically, she's their biological mother and they are her sires; there could be an echo of a soul bond connection," Kai said as they watched the blood travel.

The blood finally stopped moving at what could be identified as an area near the coast. After Penelope quickly typed the geographic coordinates she sent them to the team's handhelds and then spoke out loud, "The only thing in that area is an old storm drain that was converted into a bunker, a long time ago. I've sent it to your handhelds. Now bring back my pancake date."

The team quickly sprang into action leaving the families with Penelope and Kai who reluctantly agreed to stay behind and play peacekeeper.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

"I think we're underground," Jupiter said quietly as she used her vampiric and werewolf senses to try and figure out where they were.

"Are you sure?" Hope questioned quietly.

They had both regained most of their strength a while ago but their captors had not yet returned and they were devising a plan of escape.

"I'm positive I can smell dirt and other earthly scents," Jupiter responds, quietly releasing herself from her restraints, Hope doing the same.

"Invisique," Jupiter mumbled, making herself invisible; Hope taking her sister's lead and doing the same. They quietly unlocked the door (thank you bobby pins) and began to roam the place they were currently being held captive in and found it was a bunker.

Finally finding the exit, Hope climbed the ladder and unlocked the door only for an alarm to go off as soon as she opened it.

"They're trying to escape!" Someone yelled and the two girls quickly scampered up the ladder and out into the woods.

"You can run but you can't hide!" The man who kidnapped them yelled and soon a whizzing sound was heard.

They were being shot at.

"Hope, we have to go faster." Jupiter said to her twin, and they began to pick up the pace with their running.

After what felt like hours, but was probably minutes the two women arrived at a cliff, the ocean below them.

"This is the only way!" Hope said looking down at the water.

Jupiter looked at the water with slight hesitance.

"Come out, come out wherever you are?" The voice taunted.

"Ready?" Hope asked her sister, who looked almost frozen.

"Don't think you'll get away that easy." The man taunted, too close for comfort.

Hope sighed, knowing she would have to make the decision.

She grabbed her twin's hand and jumped off the cliff.

Jupiter couldn't even register her scream as the flew towards the water.

"HOPE, I CAN'T SWIM!" Was the last thing the blonde screamed before the twins hit the water.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The team had just arrived to the area where they knew the bunker was and heard a splash.

"FBI!" They yelled as they searched the bunker. There was no one there.

"How close are we to water?" Spencer asked Rossi.

"Less than two miles, why?" Rossi replied and then looked concerned.

Derek quickly put the pieces together and looked angry while Spencer began to panic.

"Jupiter can't swim." Was their reply in unison.

They all quickly used their enhanced supernatural speed (well, Spencer held onto Derek who couldn't help but smile at the man) to head to the water and arrest the unsubs who were now shooting at the water.

"Hope would help her right?" JJ asked concernedly to Jack who was looking at the water with an unreadable expression.

"I hope so." Was the reply the blonde vampire received.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hope and Jupiter had washed up on a beach, far enough away to keep them safe from their captors.

Both women were coughing up water and Jupiter was not happy.

She had almost drowned.

Three fucking times.

"This is your fault." Jupiter mumbled as she got up and began to walk away.

"What?! You can't blame this on me!" Hope yelled.

"I can! I was fine! I was happy! Why do you have to ruin everything good that ever happens to me?" Jupiter cried as she turned to face her twin.

"Jupiter we were all heartbroken when you-" Hope began before being cut off abruptly by her sister. "You were broken?! Funny, you were the "broken one" but I was the only one who needed saving Hope!" The blonde screamed.

Hope marched forward now chest to chest with her sister who stood almost a head taller than her.

"If you hadn't of left, this wouldn't have happened! You didn't have to be so selfish Astrid!" Hope screamed back, flinching slightly seeing a rage burning in her sister's eyes.

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN SELFISH! I LEFT SO I COULD BE HAPPY FOR ONCE! I WAS MISERABLE IN NEW ORLEANS! I FOUND A FAMILY THAT CARE ABOUT ME AND LOVE ME, AND I FOUND MY MATES WHO I LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY BUT APPARENTLY I'M SELFISH. I HATE YOU!" Jupiter yelled and before Hope could retort a resounding slap was heard.

Jupiter had slapped Hope so hard that she accidentally snapped her twin's neck, activating her vampire side.

Jupiter felt no remorse or guilt seeing Hope's body on the ground.

Quickly using a spell to have paper and a pencil appear. She quickly wrote a goodbye to Derek and Spencer explaining that she had to do something about the Mikaelsons, and she would do it her way.

Writing that was hardest thing she had ever done but she had one thing left to do.

Sticking the note on her twin's forehead, she walked away from Hope's body. Getting ready to say goodbye to some of the most important people of her life.

Kol and Diana

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Falling Together Part III

Author’s Note: Here it is, part 3. Next part will be the last. I just wanted to thank you all for how engaged you’ve been. I’m constantly surprised when people actually like my work. This one is for you guys! As always, please let me know if you wish to be tagged in future works, and I would like to open requests if you have any, just don’t flood me with too many at once!

Part 1, Part 2 Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 3364 Warnings: Angst, language, smut, NSFW Since you had shared a kiss, things began to shift and progress in your marriage. Ivar was rather private when it came to being sentimental, so all of your affections were shared in the privacy of your chambers late into the night. You found yourself going through the motions of the day, the tedium often making you groan as you waited to retire to bed. Not that you would ever consider shirking on your duties as Queen, but you were caught up in an exciting new stage of your relationship with your husband, and it was easy to get lost in the romance of it all.

When she was alive, your mother often told you that marriage progressed like the changing of seasons. She said to be mindful that not all was as warm and bright as a summer's day. You were hovering in a high point with the sun shining and the crops thriving, which meant a cold, blustery front was around the corner to kill everything green and alive. That winter storm came in the revelation of Freydis.

Enough time had passed that you had no longer dwelled on Ivar's previous marriage, and he seemed just as content to not mention it. Such a truth could never be ignored though, and you discovered it without meaning too. It was a conversation overheard, not meant to harm you as you sat at a stool working on your weaving. You had wanted to learn the art practiced by their women, and so you had asked a thrall to instruct you. 

Two shield maidens were patrolling through the Great Hall, acting as your guards for the day. They were speaking Norse, unaware that you had been studying the language under Ivar's behest. In return, you had agreed to teach him to read and write in English since he was already fluent in speaking it.

"Queen (Y/N) has been good for the people. She is respectful of the Gods."

"She is still squeamish about live sacrifice, but I agreed, she is a fair leader, and she has made Ivar a more tolerant King."

You smiled while you continued to work the threads. In your mind, you had to live up to your father's example as a ruler, and if you could please the people of the North, then you would continue on the path you had started.

"It has taken a lot for him to regain the trust of the people. They suffered under his brutality because of Freydis. She was never meant to be a Queen, she was of low birth, and selfish ambitions. She was only good for Ivar."

"Good for him until he killed her. Such an end must have been the work of the Gods."

Your hand slipped on the loom, causing the shuttle to tear through the thread, ruining the pattern. The thrall at your side grew alarmed, having heard the discussion as well. It wasn't that she looked surprised by the news, but rather concerned that you had heard it. Did everyone know?

You had assumed Ivar was no longer married to his first wife, even though it was common for his people to be married to more than one woman. In your head, you had come to the decision that he had divorced his first wife, another common practice that Christians wouldn't dare to dream. He had failed to mention that she, this Freydis, was dead, and once more by his hand. While your intuition told you that he had avoided telling you on purpose, you wanted to fall back into denial and believe he had forgotten. 

You stood from the bench and began to pace the floor. The small tapestry you had been working on was abandoned, and you sent the thrall to fetch Hvitserk. Your first instinct was to confront Ivar, but you did not want to charge into such history when you would be likely to act out irrationally in fear or anger. Too many of your previous fights had ended because of fervent emotions, and you wanted to be tactful. Isn't that what a good Queen would do, and a wife?

"(Y/N)," Hvitserk said, poking his head in around the corner.

"Oh hello," You said, startled out of your thoughts by his arrival. "Please, come in."

Hvitserk's eyes flitted over you, and his face grew pensive. "What's wrong?"

You rubbed your hand down your neck, figuring you must have shown your worry. You never were good at lying. Might as well just come out and say it. "Did Ivar murder his first wife?"

He tried to hide the shock on his face from the question, but you had caught it. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

"If someone is trying to come between you and my brother, yes," Hvitserk remarked. He appeared bothered, and the tension in his shoulders made you anxious.

"No, it's nothing like that. I overheard something, and I had to find out the truth myself," You explained, trying to calm down your brother-in-law. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hvitserk admitted. He was watching you with concern. "Don't you want to know why?"

"Yes...no, I mean not from you. I just had to confirm for myself before I went and accused Ivar of something so horrible." You fell onto the bench by the loom and held your head in your hands. "I don't understand how he could."

"Freydis, that was her name, she wasn't a good person," said Hvitserk, coming down to kneel before you. He was gentle as he pried your hands away from your face.

"Hvitserk," You started in with a sigh.

"Just listen, please. You should talk to Ivar, but trust me when I say, I knew the woman. She used manipulation and any opportunity available to further her position. I'm not saying that she deserved what she got, or that you should just forgive Ivar, but she hurt him. My brother has always reacted out of anger when betrayed, so I guess I wasn't surprised to learn it ended the way it did."

"Am I in danger, that is, would he ever hurt me?" You barely recognized your voice with how small it had become.

"No," Hvitserk said, and his conviction eased your quivering nerves. "For one thing, you could never be so vindictive as to hurt him purposefully. I think he finds more fault in himself now, and would probably leave you before he could ever lay a hand on you."

You tried to imagine yourself in Ivar's position. A lot of what Hvitserk said made sense, especially when you considered how emotional your husband could be. He had a sharp mind, but that didn't mean he wasn't ruled by his heart, at least on some matters. When he had accused you of seeing another man, he had spoken from a place of hurt.

"I need to talk with him," You decided.

"Do you want me to go find him?" Hvitserk asked, taking a step back towards the entryway.

"No, I don't want him to feel as if I'm ambushing him with these questions. It can wait until later, the truth isn't going to change."

Hvitserk nodded, but he appeared to still have things on his mind. "What will you do?"

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"You won't leave him because of this, will you?"

"No," You were surprised with how easy the answer came to you, but you knew it to be true. You were a daughter to a King, and you had lived through wars, disease, and famine. It would take more than a slave Queen to rattle your resolve.

Hvitserk breathed out in relief. "Good, because our people love you, and I think my brother is starting to as well."

"Hvitserk," You admonished him for causing you to flush pink to the tips of your ears. "That's not something you should be telling me."

He laughed. "I knew there was something of a shy Christian in you."

You rolled your eyes before sending him on his way. Even after you were alone, your heart continued to thunder in your chest as you considered Ivar's feelings. If his fondness for you had grown, then you hoped the discussion of his first wife wouldn't result in it halting. Hvitserk's words had excited you because you knew that your affections for Ivar had developed as well. You didn't want something else to come between you, but you knew you couldn't lie and forget the issue either.

You headed for your chambers in search of your growing hound. No longer was he the small bundle that Ivar had gifted to you. He was at a lumbering height, and he seemed to knock into everything, including your husband. You worried he would send Ivar to the ground one of these days. His name was Dáire, and you were sure he would make a better pet than a guard dog. That was what you needed right now, to calm your mind, and sink your fingers into his fur as you waited for night to come.

ooOOoo

Ivar felt uneasy as he pushed himself forward to his chambers. He was feeling more alone than he could recall in a long time. You had not joined him to eat in the Hall, and Hvitserk had disappeared early in the afternoon and had not made a reappearance. His instincts to sense when something was amiss were flaring, and his mood had darkened to pitch. 

He didn't know when it had happened, but he had become dependent on your company. Whether it was your opinion on a ruling call, or just to hear you speak about something trivial, he had become entranced by your voice. You were an apparent absence when not at his side, and he would demand to know why you were avoiding him.

Some of the anger he had pent up released from him, as steam would from a geyser when he came upon your chambers. He found you lying in the center of the bed, and that menace of a dog was sprawled beside you. Ivar huffed. Not only would the furs smell like that ungainly creature now, but you were also holding the animal tight in your embrace. It should have been him, or so his callow thoughts told him anyway.

Dáire raised his head and gave Ivar a look that felt like a challenge. He regretted giving you that overgrown bovine the moment it grew into the habit of flopping down on your lap for pets. Ivar growled at the beast, and that's when he noticed you smiling with your eyes still closed.

"Stop asserting dominance over the dog," You grumbled.

"He provokes me every time I find him in my bed."

Your eyes shot open, and you gave him an incredulous look. "Alright Dáire, time to go. You've made my husband jealous."

Ivar watched as you led the dog by the neck to his corner of the room. He was relieved to find you in a teasing mood, it eased some of his earlier doubts. He moved over to the bed, slipping down slowly before getting to work on removing his braces. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a familiar gesture. 

"You missed supper," Ivar commented as he held one of your hands in his. You had long fingers, but they were thin like spindles compared to his broad palms.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just had little appetite I guess." 

You rested your chin on his shoulder, and Ivar inclined his head to gaze at you through his peripheral. "Are you unwell?"

You swung around until you were straddling his lap. He had never seen such fluidity come from you, and you were mindful not to rest on his legs with your whole weight. For Ivar, he felt a little dumb when his hands hesitated to touch you. He had to remind himself that you were his wife, and you did not flinch from him as he rested his grasp on a handful of your hips. 

"I am well," You assured with a smile. "But I do have to ask you something, and it is of a sensitive nature."

Ivar immediately tensed, and his mind wandered to every foul thing he could conjure. "What is it?"

You had lost any cheer in your face, now a mask of uncertainty tainting you. Taking a breath, you looked him in the eye while settling your hands on his chest. "Why did you kill Freydis?"

You seemed to regret asking the moment the words left your tongue. Ivar knew he must have appeared furious, but there was no going back now that the question had been asked. His grip on you tightened, and he wanted to throw you to the side and escape. It would seem you had already thought of that first and had picked your position for just such a reaction. You collapsed the rest of your weight down, forcing him to fall flat on his back with you above.

"How do you know her name? Was it Hvitserk?" He hissed.

"No, I only confirmed what I heard with him. It was never meant for me to overhear, but it's done now," You hurried to explain. 

His brother's disappearing act now had an explanation. Hvitserk never was good at keeping things from him, and his face would have tipped him off.

"She's dead, what more do you need than that?"

"She was important to you Ivar, and you're important to me now. Please, I deserve to hear the truth from you," You pleaded.

Ivar felt his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Whether they were for Freydis, or for your display of care, he wasn't certain. 

"She pretended to love me," He said, and his voice wavered like a limp flag caught up in a breeze. "I lost Kattegat because she went to my brother Bjorn, and passed along information that ensured he was able to win back the city."

"So treason then? Any wife of a King would be sentenced to death for such an offense. You aren't the first man to have to execute a traitorous Queen."

"It was not a public execution, I strangled her while we were alone," He told you, and you shrank back in fear. It had been his intention to scare you. You were gazing at him with such understanding, and he didn't deserve your kindness. "She had a child with another man, that she tried to pass off as mine. And I would have let her, but he was born cursed like me. Punishment by the Gods for her lies. I took him into the wild, and I let him die."

At this point you had moved away from him to the head of the bed, hands clasped together as you held your knees to your chest. You had a troubled look, but your eyes returned to his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You deserved to hear this, and know what man your father married you to."

"I know what man I've married," You said, your body relaxing, and you began your way back over to him. "The things Freydis did would have resulted in her death by any King. I can't say whether your decision to murder her by strangling was the correct one, but that was before my time with you. I don't have to forgive you for that, you have to forgive yourself."

"Mercy is a weakness you know," He said, turning to you as you sat beside him. 

"So is self-pity, but you're too clever to fall into that trap, right husband?" 

Ivar's heart swelled with pride as he watched you. The things he had done had horrified you, but you had the bravery of Thor to call him out for his faults. You were foolish and lovely, and he was half in love with you then as he brought his hand to the back of your head, forcing your mouth to his. You let out a sigh, and your fingers splayed out on his chest. Ivar could feel the pressure you applied, trying to ease him back to slow down, but his need for you could not be contained.

He forced you down on the bed, allowing all of his weight to come down on you. The strain between his legs was a pain he'd never felt before, and he was rutting at your center to feel the friction. 

You broke away from the violent kiss, your lips swollen and red while your hands shook at the waist of his pants. He helped you force them down to his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and pulsing with need. You threw up your white skirts, and your legs trembled on either side of his hips as he brought his member to your folds. The patch of curls was damp, and Ivar plunged into your moist heat until he was buried to the hilt. You let out a sharp cry, tears springing to your eyes at the abrupt intrusion. 

"I'm sorry...I’m sorry," Ivar continued to pant into your shoulder, his arms shaking as he supported himself above you.

"Don't stop. I want this," You told him, even as he caused you pain.

He couldn't hold back anymore, and with your permission, he began to move. The pace he set was brutal, hips snapping quick and hard into you as he fucked you into the mattress. You held onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh while letting out the occasional whine. Seeing his cock disappear into you over and over had him racing towards his end, and the blood that tinged your thighs gave him a sense of ownership. You were his now, in every way a husband and wife belonged to one another. 

"I can't--I can't stop," He groaned, knowing his end was near.

"It's alright," You told him, your hands smoothing down his back.

Feeling every bit as virginal as you, he finished much too soon. His seed spilled inside you, and Ivar collapsed half on top of you, trying at the last moment to spare you of his weight. You both were breathing hard, and he felt himself tremble as he slowly removed his softened member from inside your cunt. Some of his seed trickled out onto your thigh, and Ivar felt embarrassed he had left you in such a mess.

"That wasn't good for you, you didn't finish," He grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Ladies rarely do, the first time," You said, still short of breath, but with a look of contentment. "But I enjoyed myself, and we'll learn to please each other together."

You rose from the bed to clean yourself,  and your look of discomfort did not go unnoticed by him. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sat up. "I've hurt you."

"Not intentionally. I expected a little roughness having a heathen for a husband," You teased, and Ivar was baffled by your glowing cheeks. "You act as if you've never lain with a virgin before."

Ivar's head flopped back onto the pillow as he thought of his demeaning trysts of the past. Margrethe had not been a virgin, and he never had been able to consummate his union with Freydis.

"I am your first," You remarked with realization, and you joined him in the bed, spreading out on top of his chest. "Don't I feel special."

Ivar let out a grunt as he wrapped you up in his arms. You were warm, and your heart had settled at a slower pace. He toyed with the ends of your hair, losing the time as he wandered in and out of his own thoughts. You weren't just special to him, you were everything. His future as King was secured with you at his side. It was an idea he had almost given up on until your father had given you to him the day of your wedding. You were a gift, a Queen, a wife, and a friend, and you would have his heart until he parted from this earth to Valhalla. 

@peachyboneless

@didiintheblog

@soleil-dor

@zuxiezendler

@pieces-by-me

@rastakami23

@xbellaxcarolinax

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@shannygoatgruff

@tgrrose

@1950schick

@castielsangelsx

[peppersonironi]

Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter Five: The Assassins’ Bond

Tagging: @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Nat sets out on her assignment to gather information about the bats, and ends up talking with Damian.

Natasha couldn’t seem to find anyone to investigate, which was weird. Usually, when she wanted to find someone, she did.  Nat hadn’t seen any of the other Avengers either, which was also strange.

So Natasha wandered the halls of the manor. She had already checked the Cave, though it was also empty.

After half an hour, Natasha turned to the gardens. She wasn’t really searching at that point, only enjoying the early afternoon breeze. But soon enough, she heard sounds of laughter.

Following it, Natsha wound through a shaded path to find a large lawn occupied by the bats, as well as Peter, Banner, and Thor.

They were in the middle of what seemed to be an extreme version of capture the flag. Nat looked for someone to talk too, but they were all invested in the game. Then she noticed Damian on the sidelines, inside a clearly marked square that must have been the ‘prison’. He looked angry, and seemed to be passing the time by doing drills with his katana. Once again, Natasha was struck by how precise he was.

"Hey kid."

Damian glanced at Natasha, clearly suspicious.

"Hello Romanoff, do you want something?''

Nat smiled. “Call me Natasha. And no, not really. You looked bored, so I thought I’d offer you some company.”

Damian scoffed and returned to his drills. Natasha sat down, and was soon joined by a large dog whom she had never seen before. "Is that your dog?" She asked.

Damian nodded stiffly. "Yes his name is Titus."

Nat looked at Titus with gentle eyes. "Hi Titus." She reached out her hand for the dog to sniff. Titus obliged, and then began to nussle  her hand, quickly warming up to Nat.

Damian’s whole demeanor changed at the sight. He relaxed significantly, and even had a soft smile on his face. “He likes you," Damian said as he set his katana aside and joined Natasha on the grass.

Nat smiled right back at him as she began to pet Titus. "Titus is a great name for him. Latin right?" Damian nodded. "You know the meaning?"

Damian scoffed. "If I didn't then I wouldn't have named him Titus. An honorable dog deserves a name that literally means `title of honor’."

Nat chuckled, surprising even herself. "I like you kid, you've got spunk.” She nodded over at the now abandoned katana. Time to see what she could get out of him. “And your fighting technique is impressive."

Damian’s face became a mixture of guarded and prideful. "Of course it is, I was trained to be the best."

"Well your father sure does a good job."

Damian pursed his lips and remained silent for a moment before replying. "He didn't train me. I … was trained by my mother."

Nat looked over at him softly. “The one that Jason blames for him killing?”

Damian scowled. “Yes. My mother is responsible for bringing my brother back from the dead using the Lazarus pit which is … not quite magic. The pit induces its user with enhanced aggression, and memory loss which she utilized to manipulate Todd to her will.”

Natasha sat still for a moment. She really didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, that did partially explain Jason’s references to murder. On the other hand … the woman sounded horrible.

“Why would she do that?” Nat asked quietly.

Damian stroked Titus for a long moment before replying. “My mother is part of a group called The League of Assassins - led by my grandfather - that is dedicated to … saving the world.”

Natasha almost raised an eyebrow at that. Assassins and world-savers really didn’t seem like they would go together well.

“Not like you saved the world,” Damian continued, “But through brutal, unforgiving justice. They wish to reform civilizations across the world into total submission to my grandfather.

“So my mother took it upon herself to take in a newly raised from the dead Jason Todd, train him, and set him upon Gotham. Her point to it all was to harm my father, who is very much against League ideals.”

There was a sudden shout of triumph from the game, and the pair looked over at Tim crowing over a downed Peter Parker. They were silent for a long time, watching the game play out. Finally, Nat took it upon herself to speak.

“I never knew my parents. I grew up in a top secret Soviet-Russian training facility designed to create the perfect operatives, or assassins.” She took a breath as she looked over at Damian.

The boy had shed his smirks and scowls. His eyes were wide and innocent. There was a quality of quiet hope in his face. Like he was amazed that someone else could understand him.

“You’re like me,” he whispered. Then raised his voice slightly. “I was trained from birth. Mother and grandfather wanted me to be the heir. The perfect heir. I was taught every conceivable way to kill, to torture, to withstand any injury.” Damian was no longer looking at Natasha. His eyes showed that he was in another place. Another time.

“We were chained to the bed at night to prevent escape,” Natasha replied. “Sometimes they would make us fight to the death. To weed out the unworthy.”

“Weakness was not tolerated. The moment I made a mistake I was punished. I was to take it willingly.”

“When we trained with guns, they gave us real people to use as targets.”

“Emotions were a liability. I was to never show any, I was never to trust anyone. Not my trainors, not my servants, especially not my own mother.”

“We weren’t to trust each other either. Sometimes they would randomly order to kill your friends, and you had to. Otherwise you were killed.”

Damian sighed. “The worst part was leaving. Mother dumped me with Father - for training she said. I was to learn what I could from him. And I did, I learned a lot. But not what she wanted me to.” He looked over wistfully at his family. “I learned to trust. I had to believe I wasn’t invulnerable. I … I had to learn what it felt like to be … wanted .”

Natasha nodded at him, though he wasn’t looking at her. “Clint was sent to kill me, after I had been an operative for a while. I was the best, so people began to take notice. So S.H.I.E.L.D. sent Barton to eliminate me. But when he found me, he didn’t. He … had mercy on me. Something I had never known. He recruited me. I worked with him, and S.H.I.E.L.D. to help people instead of killing them. I had to relearn almost everything.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while. Neither bothering to pity the other. Just enjoying the companionship of another like them.

Then Nat spoke up again. "I'm not good with …" Natasha paused trying to find the right words. "Comfort. But, I understand"

Damian looked at her, then nodded. “I understand as well.”

They sat together for a while, looking at the game progressing. They talked about their lives, and even started to explain their families as well. Damian talked briefly about Bruce’s tragic childhood experiences, as well as Dick’s. He went into detail of Jason’s death and then resurrection. Tim’s becoming Robin. His neglectful family. Damian explained Cassandra’s past, and how Duke lost his parents. He mentioned Stephanie and Barbara, and how they joined the vigilante life as well. He didn’t go into detail, though, saying that their stories were not his to tell.

In return, Natasha talked about befriending Clint. How Steve became Captain America. How Tony built his suit. Banner’s experiments, and how he became the Hulk. How Thor found himself on Earth. What she knew of Peter, and how he became Spiderman.

“Do you trust me?” Damian asked, looking over at Nat when she had finished speaking.

Natasha smiled. “Yes. I’m assuming that’s what your goal was?”

Damian had the nerve to not look apologetic. “We may or may not have overheard your entire conversation after lunch.”

Nat nodded, she had figured as much. The Boy had been almost a bit too loose lipped in the beginning. But she could tell that as the conversation went on, he spoke freely because he wanted to, and not because he was trying to supply info.

“Did you draw the short straw?” Natasha asked.

Damian scowled. “T-t, no. Father said that if any of you were to question us or our motives, we should hold nothing back. You had the nerve to approach me first.”

Natasha laughed freely and ruffled the boy’s hair. He frowned, but didn’t push her hand away.

“Do you trust me now?” He asked, tentatively.

Natasha paused and tilted her head. “Yes, I think I do. You didn’t lie to me, I know that.” Damian rolled his eyes, and Natasha smirked a bit. “But also, you and I are similar. I don’t think I could distrust you if I tried.”

Damian nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, I would not want to disappoint Father.”

Natasha smiled. “I don’t think he would be disappointed if I didn’t trust you. He seems quite reasonable.”

Damian outright snorted. “Say that again when I have a slight cold and he won’t let me on patrol. He can be quite unreasonable in mother-hen mode. Not unlike Grayson, unfortunately.”

Nat chuckled. “He loves you. That’s important.” There was another shout of victory from the field, then Natasha continued. “What about me? Trust goes both ways, you know.”

Damian frowned in concentration. “Yes, I believe you have earned some trust. I don’t know about Stark though, he seems … unstable.”

Natasha couldn’t help but outright laugh at that statement. After a moment of surprise, Damian joined in.

“That,” Natasha said between huge gasps of laughter, “Is by far the best thing I have heard in a long time.”

“Do you deny it?” Damian asked.

Natasha was almost crying from laughter. “No, not in a million years.”

Damian smiled at Nat. “Thank you, Romanoff. For talking. I believe you will make a valuable ally.”

“Call me Natasha, kid. Or Nat. Or Tasha. I don’t care. But not Romanoff. Friends aren’t so formal.”

Damian furrowed his brows for a moment before relaxing. “Very well, Tasha. We are now friends?”

Natasha smiled at Damian. “If you want to be.”

The boy pet Titus for a few thoughtful moments. “Very well. I accept. Together, we shall be a formidable force.”

Nat chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair once again. This time, he didn’t bother frowning.

Just then, a voice called from the field. They both looked over to find Dick running up to them. “Dami! I’m so sorry! I thought someone had gotten you out! Well, the game’s over. Want to join in the next round?”

“T-t. Of course you forgot. If this had been in the field, I could have been killed by now.”

Dick smiled easily at his little brother. “So, what do you say?”

Damian glanced at Nat before replying. “Very well, I shall partake once again in your childish games, Grayson.” Then he smirked. “But I demand that Tasha be on my team. Since you are clearly untrustworthy.”

Dick looked curiously over at Natasha, a small smile on his face. “Sure Lil’ D. Let’s go.”

He motioned for the pair to follow him, then turned and ran off back toward the field.

Damian looked over at Nat. “You will be on my team?” He looked like he was trying to hide how hopeful he was.

Natasha got up and offered her hand to Damian. “Together, we shall be a formidable force, right?”

Damian grinned at her and accepted her hand. “Our reign of terror shall be legendary.”

[yodawgiherd]

More than just red fabric

Rating: T Setting: current canonverse/manga chapter 118

Prompt: Could you please write Eremika to the 118th chapter. Something like the battle is already over, and Mikasa meets Eren, recovering from his wounds.

Note: Yo peeps, this is totally what's going to happen, i have through mysterious means acquired the future script of SnK, trust me. ;)

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

It was over in the blink of an eye.

Marley military, arguably the mightiest in the world, quickly lost its bravado when faced with dozens of colossal titans emerging from the walls all around them. The battle, which up until now was rather one-sided, ended with a quick surrender of the invader, granting the defending forces of Paradis an unconditional victory.

But such triumph couldn’t have been achieved without sacrifices.

Zeke’s face was still etched into Eren’s memory, the relief on it quickly turning into horror as he was being picked up from the ruined body of his titan and swiftly brought to the waiting jaws. Once he ate his brother, and his royal blood coursed through Eren’s veins, the full potential of the coordinate was unlocked to him, giving him a complete control over the army in the walls. To be fair, Eren liked his brother, to a degree, but his zealous intent to end any life on the island was not a goal he could ever back. Euthanasia? Not on his watch. Eren had to play by Zeke’s rules, up until now, as he held most of the cards, but no more. Now the aces were in Eren’s hands.  

And so, the rumbling began. Not on the full-scale, just a few of the giant titan army, but it was more than enough. No one could have faced this. With all their titans out of commission and the airships shot down, Marleyans had nothing to hit back with. Some pockets of resistance tried to keep their fighting spirits up, but from his vantage point high on the wall, where Eren climbed for a better view, he could easily direct the attention of his awoken colossal soldiers to quench any danger to his comrades. Now with the fighting done the unsung savior of Eldians sat down for a moment, to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. Because while today was won, the long-term effect was still fickle, and debatable, and he had to make sure that….

“Eren?”

A voice he knew, more intimately than his own, voice of a person he both longed for and dreaded to meet. Steeling himself and turning his head slightly, he decided to face the inevitable, which was coming to him in long strides.

Mikasa looked battle-worn, her uniform burned and cut, multiple new scratches and bruises on her skin, but didn’t appear to be seriously harmed. There was something about her, something Eren couldn’t quite place, that just didn’t sit right, not until she came to stand next to him and he finally managed to connect the dots together. Her scarf was gone. The usual redness underneath her chin being replaced with the pale glow of her skin, and a pink scratch on the left side, most likely from a bullet. The realization made Eren gasp. Not the fact that her scarf was missing, but that she was this close to dying, being shot down by a random soldier who’d never know that he killed the most impressive woman who ever lived.

“I left it behind.”, she said, seeing the stare at her bare throat, misinterpreting it. Defiant, she held her chin up, challenging his look with her own, unflinching. Apparently she was ready for him to be disappointed or something, even after everything he’s done to her. This girl was really one in a million.

“I’m glad.”, looking away, back at the city, Eren caught the change in her expression only at the edge of his vision, the simple words taking her aback.

“You’re…glad?”

“Of course. It’s good to see that you won’t let anyone insult you, not even me. Good to see that you’re finally free.”

Bark of laughter was the last thing he expected, but there it was, making him look back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Something funny?”

“Are you really that dense?”, she asked, shaking her head with a bitter smile.

Unsure of what she meant, Eren waited for her to go on. Not like he had anything better to do right now anyway and having a moment alone with Mikasa was precious to him, especially now when everything else went to shit.

“That scarf, what do you think it meant for me? A bond? A chain binding me to you?”

Shrugging, he remained silent, because while he would most likely choose different words, the meaning was basically the same. The scarf was nothing but a collar to a leash that was firmly attached to him, not by anyone’s choice, but by her birth, and the tragedy that occurred. Mikasa was not to blame for it, no one but whoever forged that genetic chain was, and those people were long dead.

“You’re wrong.”, she cut into his thoughts, voice clear of any doubt in her heart, “It wasn’t you, the reason why I wore it, it was so much more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it from my perspective. I was nine years old and my parents were just brutally murdered in front of me. I was cold, hurting, alone, about to be sold off as cattle and then you came in. Saved me, wrapped that scarf around me…” Mikasa half raised her hand towards her neck before she remembered that it was bare, letting it fall back to her side, “It was warm, and safe, and showed me that there’s not only blood and violence in this world, but beautiful things too. That’s why I clung to it so much.”, she shook her head, sadness seeping into her words, “I would have given it up, if I had other reminders, but what was our life Eren? Was it nice? Safe? Warm? No. Your father disappeared, your mother died, our home was destroyed, and we spent every waking hour training and fighting to kill giant man-eating monsters. That’s hardly the life a young girl wishes for herself.”

“You didn’t have to join the military with me.”, Eren pointed out, “You decided to do that yourself.”

“And what was I supposed to do?”, she countered, “Let you die alone? You were my last link to the safety and warmth, you and the scarf, and with how you treated me when we were trainees…”

Eren could feel his ears warming up slightly when Mikasa reminded him of that time. She was right, he was nothing but an asshole towards her, jealous of her strength, hating how overprotective she was. It took him a long time before he realized it, and he regretted it ever since. And Mikasa was still far from done.

“We had to almost die together before our relationship improved, and once we reached the ocean I thought that maybe we could finally be done with this fighting, finally have a home to return to, not an endless line of camps.”, she sighed, “But I was naïve, wasn’t I. In the basement, we found out that titans were never the true enemy, that there are people, humans like us beyond the ocean, wanting nothing more than to exterminate us all. Another war to fight, perhaps even more brutal and savage than the one we just won. More restless nights. More training. More blood and violence.”, her voice turned bitter,” You disappeared, leaving me with nothing but memories and the stupid scarf to remember the warmth by. And when you returned, did you bring back the safety I craved? No. More war, insults, and hate I did not deserve in the slightest, both for me and Armin.”

“Mikasa I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

She didn’t let him finish.

“Yes, you did. Maybe not word-by-word, but overall you meant those words you said to me, don’t deny it.”, she pointed towards the city, “The battle is over, so I was wondering, would you perhaps tell me why? What did I do to make you hate me?”

A fair question, one that deserved a well-thought out answer from him, in the least. He had to make her see, understand, because their time was already growing short, and Eren had no idea what will happen once they are discovered.

“It’s… not that I hate you, I said that wrong and I apologize. I was angry at that time. Disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”, she tilted her head to the side, a gesture Eren found downright adorable and had to bite his tongue not to say it out loud, “Why?”

“You asked me to see from your perspective, so now please, do the same for me.”, he took a deep breath, doing his best to organize the words, but he was no poet. There was no way around this, and Mikasa deserved the truth.

“After we reached the ocean,”, he began, “I came to realize many things. My life is going to be short; I don’t have much time left. We, as a nation, are doomed, unless we do something. And, perhaps most importantly,”, this was hard to say without blushing, “the attention of the girl who used to annoy me to no end was actually rather pleasing after all.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise, her mouth dropping to a small “o”, but Eren pressed on, determined to get it off his chest.

“I don’t know what it was, the fondness I had for you, I think I had it in me for a long time, never realizing it. But here we were, maturing, both in body and in mind, and day after day I looked at you and wondered how I could ever take you for granted. The way you acted towards me, so attentive, and supportive, gentle, it was all I needed. When I was younger, it was just titans this, and titans that, experiments, shifting, but now I found myself wondering if you smile was always so radiant. If the way you tuck the strand of hair behind your ear was always so adorable, and if you were always so a-…uhm… attractive.”, unable to continue, fumbling on words, he  looked away, “This is so embarrassing to say.”

“I was not the only one who changed, your body matured a lot too. A few years back we were the same height, and now I have to look up to see eye-to-eye.”, Mikasa offered, hoping to ease him out of his sudden muteness.

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying, but then it hit him. Did Mikasa just compliment how he looked?

“You still haven’t told me the whole story.”, she pointed out, before he could really start mulling over it.

“Right.”, he agreed, “So here I was, thinking about all these things I never cared for before, mostly regarding you, and I came to a conclusion. No matter how I felt, the lives of our nation come first. I left, as you said, crossed the ocean, met my brother, and we talked. He told me a lot, about the titans, the world, and also about you, the Ackerman clan. The bond you create, the unnatural strength, the way your bodies are genetically enhanced to serve as elite bodyguards. And it got me thinking. What if all this fondness you have for me, what if its not from you, but from the bond instead? What If you don’t like me because of your free will, but because you have to?”, Eren looked back at her, “What if all those feelings I realized I had for you, what if they were all a lie?”

Eyes swinging back to the city, Eren went on.

“Then I saw you, back at Marley, saving my ass again, and realized that I can’t control it. Even with all this knowledge about the bond, I still loved you. I hated myself, I hated you, I hated the stupid bond and whoever created it. And I said all those words, later, and you’re right that I meant them, to a degree. It was wrong to say them, but my feelings were still hurt, and Yelena was breathing down my neck, and it all came out much harsher than I ever wanted to. I don’t hate you, as a person, because you’re wonderful, but I hate the possibility that I forced you to love me, that I bound you to myself with that scarf, made you nothing more but a servant when you have the capability to be so much more.”

Silence fell after his words, because he said everything that he wanted to say, and now it was up to Mikasa to digest those words.  And she did so with a laugh.

“Dummy.”

Eren looked up, unsure of what she meant, to see her staring down at him, face unreadable.

“Stand up.”, she ordered him, tone leaving no place for discussion.

Scrambling to his feet, Eren watched her unmoving expression, wondering if she wanted to punch him in the face or something, motion that was completely justified in his eyes and he would do nothing to stop it. There it was, Mikasa took a deep breath, and soon would pull her arm back to…

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.”, tone still completely militaristic, as if she was directing recruits on the field, her eyes holding steel in them, Mikasa’s lips didn’t do as much as twitch.

“I said kiss me.”, she repeated.

Slowly, sure that this is some kind of joke, or a revenge, Eren leaned closer, a bit scared of what would follow, and closer still, until he could gently and carefully press his lips against her forehead. Still, she didn’t hit him for some reason.

“Eren…”, she whispered instead, “You’re so incredibly dense sometimes.”

What? Did she want him to kiss her on the cheek or something? Surely not, he did not deserve such familiarity, not matter how much he craved to….

Her hands, appearing out of nowhere, took his face into a strong grip, and before he realized what was happening he was being pulled down, with a strength he could not deny, until his lips met hers, and they were actually kissing. The feeling made him freeze completely, because it felt much better than he ever even dared to hope, soft and warm, and while Eren couldn’t do much but stare Mikasa was way bolder, swiping her tongue alongside the seam of his mouth before pulling back, a wicked smile on her face.

“Dummy.”, she repeated, “I don’t have a single doubt about what I feel for you, not anymore. After you told me all those things, I was hurt, but in the end and after a lot of thinking I realized that you were right in a certain way. You made me look beyond the horizons I made for myself and see the bigger picture. I realized something. I don’t need the scarf. I don’t need you.”, she leaned closer, “But I want you, and there’s nothing unnatural about that.”

There was a lot of things he could say to that. But all of them felt unnecessary, as right now, there was a burning need inside him, one that he hasn’t felt in his life before. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he kissed her again, high on the wall, above the city that was still waking up from the aftermath of that terrible battle, the city that had many reasons to hate him, but with Mikasa in his hands and her lips moving alongside his own, he couldn’t bring himself to care. That was until she pulled back, making him growl, already missing the connection.

“You gotta apologize to Armin.”, she breathed out, “And Jean. They both trusted you.”

“They did?”

“Mhmm.”

“All right.”

But when he tried kissing her again, she pulled back out of his reach, giggling.

“Promise me.”

“Fine! I swear I’ll apologize to Armin.”

“And Jean.”, she added.

“And Jean.”, Eren agreed, already dreading the moment.

“And Connie.”, she went on, just about exceeding the limits of his patience.

“I’ll apologize to everyone, hundred times over. That enough?”

She nodded.

Whatever humiliation laid in his future was however completely worth it, as she allowed their mouth to combine again, each kiss feeling better than the last one. It didn’t matter that there was still the shortened lifespan of his to take into consideration. That while they repelled Marley for now, the danger persisted. That Yelena was still at large, somewhere below, most likely plotting her revenge already. That the world was still out to get them, even with their newest colossal guardians standing at attention. But Eren didn’t think about any of this, as for the moment he allowed himself to be selfish and focus solely on the woman he held.

Because any city can be rebuilt, but most importantly, maybe their relationship, which he thought dead and killed by his own hand, could be rebuilt too.

[darknessprinceofasuretha-blog]

The Seamless Boy Born In Blood

Notes: my soul intent is to horrify everyone who reads this but if it’s not scary to you? Oh well I tried my best to scare people. I hope you are disturbed too. This is what happens when I’m allowed to write whatever I want and I’ve been reading too many stories of horror and murder and this happens.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: this contains four semi detailed death scenes, mentions of suicide, Murder, insanity, profanity ! Tread carefully, if you have a weak stomach I do not suggest reading ! ⚠️

The boy sat in his parents blood, his cheeks tear stained and his hands bloodstained he had been sitting in his parents blood for hours days even and no one has yet to find him, how fitting for him, don’t you think? His eyes are blue his hair light pink, his mother's hair red and his father’s white. He was the direct result of his mother and father trying desperately for a baby and mother was so happy when she figured out he was coming and he was healthy unlike his miscarried siblings who lived for a max of thirty minutes or less after birth.

The boy had a perfect life now it meant close to nothing because of the fact that both of his parents were taken away from him so brutally and he hopes that he will be able to recover from this tragedy but who knows it basically depends on who took him in. it was seeming to get darker and darker and darker, as footsteps and worried voices grew louder, louder, louder. Though he had not the energy to care he had been with his parents rotting corpses for five days now, the smell was rancid.

The boy you will know as Reimlas Dorlana, five days ago witnessed his parents being brutally murdered in front of him. His mother sawed in half and then chopped into little pieces to be fed to fish though they beheaded her and kept her head, his father torn apart limb from limb and also cut up into tiny pieces that they were going to try and make the boy eat, they took his father's head too, even went as far as cutting out his tongue and digging out his eyes. Though why did they leave him alive? To suffer the burden of knowing the murderers of his parents? They were close friends they were jealous of his mother, so they killed her, though the behavior leading up to them killing his parents didn’t surprise him.

The boy was so weak he wouldn’t make it if paramedics didn’t show up soon. The door slammed open to reveal the face of the young man who lived next door but he couldn’t do anything at that point he then blacked out and he couldn’t remember what happened after that he woke up in a hospital bed. The next thing he knew he was being towered over by an extremely kind nurse who tended to his wounds, he too got wounds for trying to protect his mother which resulted in him getting hurt.

She could not yet fathom the psychological horrors that he just went through, she never will until she watches her parents torn limb from limb, tongue cut off and eyes dug out, just to be squished under a shoe. Oh, evidence the clothing would be burnt by now. That alone will put him through years of therapy, though even that will not ease the pain of seeing his parents murdered in front of him.

Every time it seems he has something good he seems to just lose it. Just like his sanity he’s begun to question it, he has lost all feelings, maybe it’s for the best, if he did feel things maybe he would act a bit more normal? Reimlas didn’t know nor did he care, he can’t seem to care about anything anymore other than his cat.

Yet the thought still is chilling when his mother died she smiled as if she knew it was coming, yet she didn’t care? Maybe but the motive for her and her husbands murder is unknown to the police but Reimlas knew everything he would not be mocked by the details so he simply just left he did not care for what the police found for they would mock him. But he was not of age to leave on his own, having both of his wings broken he was given to his grandparents and they were murdered too. The same way his mother and father were they were beheaded though this time grandma was just torn to shreds intestines everywhere blood was dripping from the ceiling, the intestines hung up as if a child was going to swing in them. Grandma had her eyes in her mouth and tongue cut down the middle and put in her eye sockets, that alone made Reimlas throw up. Though you didn’t see what happened to grandpa they broke his neck hung him and disemboweled him, he was in one piece other than grandma.

It was sickening he knew who did it but he couldn’t do a single damn thing, or they’d kill his cat, If they killed his cat the last thing tying him to his sanity will be gone and he will go f*cking insane, also he didn’t want his cat to be dead too so he kept quiet on the sidelines and it just never gets better. He’s slowly going insane, he can no longer take the mistreatments he’s done with it all. At this point to Reimlas he thinks that these people think it’s a game, who will become insane first?

Apparently it would be himself. Because if he told a single soul he would become labeled insane that’s how this world works if you say something someone else doesn’t believe they will fight you over it. But if you say something that is right, people have enough money then you will be the insane one. But that’s what the world has come down to, if you have money you will survive if you don’t then you’re irrelevant. It’s almost like saying only the fittest survive and the weak die, but that wouldn’t be the case at all.

Reinmlas was so done with the world what could he do? Slit his throat and die? No he isn’t going to go insane that’s what he thinks anyways and the thought just never seems to be getting better, it just seems to get more distorted. Reimlas woke up and seen his cat was dead, hard in his arms and he went out to bury mittens and said goodbye. Something seemed to break inside of him and he gently grabbed some of his pink locks and pulled starting to laugh maniacally, tears of sorrow, joy, and laughter he was breaking, he was finally going insane.

You know that moment when you’ve held something secret for so long, it’s starting to break you? That’s what Reimlas was experiencing at the moment he was going insane because he kept the truth from everyone now the only things that he remotely cared about are dead, but now it’s time to reap what had been sown Mr. and Mrs. Johnsonis.

Mind you Reimlas has went through multiple courses of study throughout the years so it wasn’t just that, he’s now a young man, he is a forensic scientist and he has a lot of degrees in the specific fields, his teachers even said they wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled off the perfect murder one day and that’s saying something sadly. Reimlas hasn’t been the same after that day, his emotions are all faked because he just doesn’t feel anything, gratification for his work does nothing either.

Reimlas was going to murder the Johnsonis, but he had an even better idea. Though at this point he wasn’t even human anymore, he murmured to himself as he twirled a scalpel on his gloved finger. “I am a monster..born in blood but something oddly reminds me of home, the place my parents were murdered, though something doesn’t feel right, I don’t think I’m even human anymore, though life doesn’t have to be fun, I suppose it only has to be lived and that’s the end of it.” Reimlas said throwing his scalpel and it shatters a pot. “The guilt of what they have made me will be enough to eat them alive.” He’s right if someone feels guilty enough for what they have done they will try and repent for said sin. “Though this game is over now... I win.”

Reimlas had a horrific smile come across his face as he started to laugh manically again. He broke completely, not even looking at the deep cuts on his wrists could get him to stop and even when looking at them he laughed harder. “Weakness is a sin, it’s top to stop being weak HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” Reimlas started twitching as he laughed, he reached into his pocket to grab his freshly sharpened scalpel and drove it into his leg, it cut into him like butter like he anticipated, he didn’t scream or cry he simply just stopped laughing.

Reimlas let the blood on his fingers fall to the ground as he held the wound he created it wasn’t that deadly. He lifted his hands to look at them and he immediately got flashbacks of that small room he was crammed in with his parents dead and rancid smelling bodies, he was crying, traumatized.

Reimlas got up and wrapped up his wound and headed towards the door with his keys in his hand and gloves on, a smirk on his face. It’s time to pay the Johnsonis’ daughter a visit. Reimlas got in his car loosened his pink locks opened the mirror and then did his make up and grabbed his guitar, the Johnsonis Family think that Reimlas has forgotten the crime they have committed against him but no he hasn’t in fact he thinks it’s fitting to say, an eye for an eye.

Reimlas closed the mirror and the thing it was on before starting his car and backing out of the driveway. Reimlas still lives in his grandparents neighborhood so he didn’t exactly go anywhere the house his parents got murdered in still belonged to him, people were fighting him over the house and losing terribly. Reimlas sighed he needed to put on an emotional mask real quick which he achieved by smiling to the old lady that’s just a hag and then he waved to the newly married couple who were watering plants together up each other’s ass.

To be clear the neighborhood that Reimlas lived in is for the rich people to live no poor people or middle class allowed here. Giant houses and mansions anything you could think of is probably here. Reimlas dodged a cat with his car that he almost hit and killed, he would have tried to be upset if that happened because that’s a normal response to killing something. Reimlas pulled into the driveway of the Johnsonis house and got out grabbing his guitar he made his way to the front door.

He rang the bell three times to have the door answered by the youngest daughter, Lola, Reimlas leant in and kissed her lips, her parents were home but were passed out. This is what he has to endure for five more seconds before she takes him up to her room. It’s very girly and pink, neon fucking pink. And he hates her room so much but he never says a word.

‘Think like a forensic scientist on a crime scene what am I looking for?’ Reimlas thought before he covered Lola’s beautiful blue eyes and pushed her down on her bed, he had blind folded her, made her move into a comfortable position and told her an extremely sad story, his backstory and made her cry.

He still had gloves on as he seized the scalpel he had earlier sharpened but he didn’t use this one to stab himself, he made her take the scalpel she didn’t realize what it was and he told her it would check her heartbeat it had to be jabbed onto the place where her heart was.

She was stupid to believe it, killed herself instantly because she made her own heart burst. ‘That will be ruled a suicide.’ Reimlas said in his head and then he got up making sure no evidence was left behind and then he grabbed his guitar and casually left the room.

The brother how did he take care of him? He gave him a drug that makes you claw your own eyes out and itch until you bleed, the dude just shot himself in the head. He found the easy way out of the suffering and Reimlas smirked. ‘Two suicides that must be linked to something don’t you think?’ Reimlas thought grabbing his belongings and leaving. ‘Nothing extraordinary needed to happen just revenge and it feels good, I hope you guys like being childless. Like I liked having no mother and father.’ Reimlas thought as he walked out and laughed running a hand through his pink locks and then he left before the neighbors seen him.

[korra-the-red-lion]

I am.

Here’s a fic request written for @fluxy001! I hope you enjoy it!

The pod raced through the sky, the outer shell catching fire as it crashed landed onto the island. It skidded across the sand until it made a full stop. The lapped against it gently, and a curious rat scurried over to see what was inside. The pod opened, and out stumbled a young girl. She squinted and looked around, unsure of where she had landed.

She looked inside the pod and read the location on the map. Lian Yu, it read in Kryptonian. Feeling scared and very much alone, Kara Zor-el climbed back inside of her pod to calm her beating heart. Her mother and father sent her here to survive the death of her planet. The tears streamed down her face before she even realized they were. Everyone she had ever known was gone, and she was alone. She was supposed to be looking out for her cousin, but she had gotten trapped inside the Phantom Zone for so long. The endless dark, left to wonder if she was even going to survive this trip. At least she managed to make it to earth. Now it was a matter of survival on this strange island.

Slowly but surely, Kara made her way into the heart of the island. She knew that she needed to find food and fresh water in order to survive. As she walked by, she felt a slight aching pain throughout her whole body that she didn’t quite understand. Little did she know that beneath the soil of this cursed island was kryptonite, the kind that weakened her. Little did she know that she even had special abilities due to her alien nature. All Kara knew in this moment was that she needed to make it off this island alive.

---

It took her 5 long years, but Kara finally had done it. She got off Lian Yu by creating a bonfire large enough to be seen from miles away. Her skin was shallow, her hair unkempt and ratty. But there was a hardness in her eyes, a killer’s instinct. The men who pulled their boat ashore didn’t know who this mysterious woman was, but they knew that they were saving a life today. The gladly helped her on board, and away they went.

It blew up all over the news. A mysterious woman rescued from some Chinese island. She had no I.D., no documentations to show where she was from. Police in National City were confused. Who was this person? Where did she come from? How did she get on that island? There were no missing persons reports filed anywhere in America. She simply told them her name was Kara. That was it. Nothing else.

Baffled, the police and the hospital staff did their best to help her get accustomed to living in the city. After only a day in the hospital, Kara felt good enough to leave on her own power, and that she did. The sunlight beaming down on her face gave her such a rush, one that she hadn’t felt before. Skipping happily away, Kara soon realized she could hear everything. Confused and scared, Kara looked around wildly. Then it dawned on her.

I have abilities, she thought in awe. I’m not a human. I am something more. That island…something on it must have blocked my alien powers. I need to find Kal-el, he may know what is going on.

Determined to understand this new power, Kara went to find her missing cousin.

Kal-el, or Clark Kent as he was known as on Earth, was much older than her due to her time in the Phantom Zone. Although he was shocked to know another Kryptonian survived, he was more than happy to help out family. Once Kara learned and understood her abilities better, she got to work.

On the island, she got into trouble. A lot of trouble. She carried scars from her time on the cursed place and gained a name for herself from her enemies. The Arrow. She learned from an older man named Yao Fei. He taught her how to use a simple bow and arrow to survive. He taught her everything she needed to know before he was brutally murdered by Fyers. Kara saw to it quickly that Fyers suffered a much more painful death at her hands. She promised that when she got to civilization, she would purge the cities of evil and darkness. During the day, she was Kara Danvers, a woman who was just trying to get by after suffering through a horrendous ordeal. But at night, she became someone else, something else. She became the boogieman of the night. She became the Arrow.

---

After years of combating the worse this city had to offer, Kara was beginning to feel a sense of peace. She made friends, met wonderful people from all walks of life, and had a great job. It was starting to feel like she could finally relax and come to terms with what had happened to her.

Until the red light filled the sky.

Kara didn’t understand what was going on; but it seemed like no one did. She was sitting on the rooftop of her apartment building late at night, when Clark touched down beside her softly.

“Kara,” he said with tightness in his voice, “I need to talk with you.”

She looked away from the red sky to look at him. “What is it?”

Clark sat down next to her. “Something is coming, and I’m afraid I’m not going to make it.” He raised his hand to stop her from interjecting. “Kara, please listen. Lex Luthor is planning on killing me. Whatever is happening with the sky may be his fault, I don’t know. But I do know this. The world needs a superhero like you. One who isn’t afraid to make the tough choices when the need arises. I need you to go and find someone who can help us. Help us all.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Finally, Kara nodded. “Okay, what do you need me to do, Clark?”

He smiled sadly before reaching into his pocket. “Barry Allen built this. Please don’t ask me to explain it, because I don’t really get it. It should take you to Earth-1, where you should be able to find help.”

Kara nodded again as she took the strange device from her cousin. Looking back on it now, she wondered if she ever showed Kal how much he meant to her. She opened her mouth to say something to him, when they both noticed a strange looking cloud engulfing the city.

Realizing with utter horror what was happening, Clark stood up and spared Kara one last sad look. “I love you, Kara. Do what needs to be done.” And then he was gone, trying his hardest to stop the anti-matter wave from eradicating the city. Kara knew there was nothing he could do, nothing at all. Even Superman wasn’t strong enough to fight this enemy.

She pressed the button in the middle of the doo-hicky and jumped through the portal that appear. A second later, and her earth was gone.

---

Oliver watched the sky with overwhelming anxiety. This day was always going to come, according to Barry. But after the birth of his daughter and not knowing how his son was doing, Oliver couldn’t help but feel like this was completely unfair. He had saved this city multiple times, yet never truly asked for anything in return. Why did he have to die? Why now? When he was finally ready to settle down with Felicity? He punched the wall, the pain not even registering with him anymore.

“Oliver, are you okay, man?” Diggle asked him, looking up from the tablet.

“Yeah, sorry,” said Oliver. “I guess I’m just feeling a little tense about this whole situation. I hate not being in control.”

Diggle nodded thoughtfully. “This is definitely bigger than I ever thought I’d get myself into.”

Before Oliver could answer, his comms buzzed to life. Hey guys. I think you should come to the bunker. There’s someone here…from another Earth.

Looking at each other, Oliver responded that they were on the way as he and Diggle walked out the door.

After a short while, Oliver bounded down the stairs as he usually did. He stopped at the bottom step when he saw the woman wearing the green hood. It took a second for him to register that it wasn’t Mia from the future, but in fact Kara wearing the Green Arrow costume.

She looked over at him, putting down the arrow she was admiring. “This is a nice place you have here,” she commented mildly.

Oliver glanced over at Felicity and Laurel, whom both shrugged. Breathing heavily through his nose, he nodded. “Thank you. I take it you’re from another Earth. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” she said. Kara looked off into the distance, as if she was watching her Earth get destroyed all over again. “My cousin Clark told me to come and find help for our Earth…for all the Earth being destroyed by this.”

Laurel bowed her head, understanding the pain of losing everything. She wasn’t sure how to articulate that into meaningful words, so instead she placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Kara and gave a stiff nod. Kara nodded back, seeing the pain all over the face of the other woman.

Kara looked to Oliver once again. “Are you able to help? No offense, but I can’t see how a regular human is going to do much.”

Younger Oliver may have been offended by that comment, but now he just let it brush off him. “I really hope so. We’re gathering a team of the best heroes this Earth has to offer,” he explained, “it’s our best shot at stopping this all and reversing the damage that has been inflicted on countless lives. I don’t know what else I can tell you, if I’m being honest. None of us as ever gone up against a threat like this before.”

“So, hope may be lost?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Clark, James, Winn, Cat, Lena, Alex, Nia…they could all be lost forever and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Please, don’t give up on us just yet,” said Felicity. She hugged herself tightly. “We’re trying our best to stop the unstoppable. I know right now everything seems hopeless, but I’ve seen Oliver get himself out of tight situation after tight situation. If anyone can see this through to the end, it’s him and the others.”

Oliver felt his heart swell at the words of his wife. The fact that she trusted him to see this through meant the world to him. Closing his eyes to keep the tears from appearing, he crossed his arms and looked at Kara. “I know I’m just a human. But I believe in the team to stop this, and to restore everything that was lost. I promise with my dying breath that I will fix everything. Your Earth will be restored.”

Kara looked into those deep blue eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. For whatever reason, she felt like she could believe in him. Believe in a team that she had never met before. Cocking her head to one side, she asked, “what is your name?”

“I’m Oliver Queen, and I am the Green Arrow.”

---

As she looked back on it now, Kara wondered if that man had died a painless death. His sacrifice brought back the worlds. She stood on top of the roof of Cat Co., watching the cars pass by, not realizing that they had all be erased not too long ago. She too had been erased, but her memories had been restored by the Green Martian.

Now, when people asked her what her name was, she simply answered as he once did.

“I am the Green Arrow.”

[dcbicki]

I'm sorry to double dip but could you do danxamy for 14 and Jonsa for 6? Those are my two fave pairings!

I did the Dan/Amy one, but (if you’re still interested) could you send me a different message for the J/S one - it makes things easier to post? Also, I love how this was supposed to be a ‘few short paragraphs’ meme but I went over 3k words with this… Enjoy! :)

14. Things you said after you kissed me | Post-s6, in which Amy is ready to give birth, and Dan’s feelings are semi-ready to express themselves.

-

“If I find even one picture of this on that phone, you’re a dead man.”

“Ah, come on, Amy,” He starts, grins - that prick! - and then he’s scrolling through what she can only guess is a new photo album on his fucking iPhone. “Don’t you wanna have something memorable to show people, to commemorate this joyous occasion?”

She can’t tell if he’s fucking with her, or if this is actually all just a part of his stupid fucking plan.

“I think the probable sociopath I’m squeezing out of my fucking vagina is gonna be enough of a souvenir, thanks.” Her teeth grit and she’s frowning, reaching for something to hold onto other than the railing of the hospital bed.

She’ll commemorate this joyous occasion by chopping his balls off and force-feeding them to him through a tube. That sounds like a pretty solid revenge scheme right now.

“Dan! Can you just put the fucking phone down and get me some ice chips? For fuck’s sake.”

Amy doesn’t notice the two cups already on the side, chips melting. So, he just smiles, picks one up and hands it to her. There, hold that.

She doesn’t though – instead she finds herself grasping at his shirt, knuckles whiter than usual, face a pretty picture of sheer agony, “You’re gonna pay for this, you dick.”

“So you’ve said.” He’s rolling his eyes, and he laughs (because he’s not the one forcing an infant through his genitals) like the asshole she knows him to be.

And then he smirks, because he’s Dan, because he can, “You can only kill me so many times, you know?” The threat count is probably nearing the two hundred mark at this point.

Apparently, within the next couple hours, she’s castrating him with children’s craft scissors, gauging his eyes out with bendy plastic spoons, ripping his hair right from his scalp with just her bare hands, carving out his shrivelled up black heart and proceeding to feed his carcass to a pack of wild dogs. Oh, and she’s gonna feed him his ballsack through a fucking tube. Whether that’s pre or post heart failure, he isn’t sure.

Sure thing, Ames.

“I still get to torture you beforehand.”

“True. But you know I’d just consider that brutal foreplay.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She’d let go of his shirt sometime in the past minute, and her palm is wrapped so tightly around the frame she’s sure, he’s sure it will snap. Fuck, it’ll probably shatter.

Dan looks over at her then, (attempts to) run a hand through over-gelled hair, phone finally shoved inside his back pocket, “D'you want me to leave? I can just wait in the hall. I mean, I’ve got some calls to make and-”

Yeah, Dan, you’re not good with hospitals or empathy, I know.

“You’re staying right here.” Her blue eyes are like frozen blocks of ice, and her lips draw thin, cheeks puffing as her face flushes, neck tenses. “You’re gonna stand there, and only there, and you’re gonna hold my fucking hand like the nice man your mom thinks she raised.”

He nods, complies, shuffles forward so he’s leaning over the side of the railing. Even when she’s sat and he’s slouched, he still towers over her, still doesn’t loom. What kinda bullshit-

“Okay.” Dan sighs, adds, “Your mom’s outside, by the way.” As though that will get her to change her mind.

Oh, yes, Dan. Yes! Go get my mom, and you can wait in the hall with fucking Gary! That’ll make you happy, won’t it? Go!

“Well, then, that’s where she’ll stay.” She huffs out, eyes closed since he agreed to stay. Her head’s thrown back, blonde hair askew, face pink, lips plump. God, he wants to fucking straighten her hair. She isn’t her.

“Really?” He frowns anyway, confusion clear across his face, “Don’t you want some other woman here? I thought that was like a… thing.” His nose crinkles, “What about your sister?”

He doesn’t quite understand why she wants him here, especially with her mother right outside and she’s always seemed closer to her than anybody else in her family. Hell, Gary’s probably better suited for this kind of thing than he is - he’s into all that feminine crap, right? And he’s just-

Well, he wasn’t even all that great when they went for checkups. He just sat there in the chair and smugly grinned like an asshole whenever the doctor pointed at the screen, at the bean-sized, peanut-sized, melon-sized spawn of his that Amy was incubating.

Come to think of it, he’s not even sure he’s ready for the little bugger to be born yet. Then again, him not ready being ready isn’t the worst thing. Amy’s the one having to do all the work.

Push, scream, push, push, scream, cry, push, sweat, cry, sweat, scream.

Hopefully, she doesn’t die. Hopefully, she won’t leave him alone with a newborn. That would be some serious fucking divine retribution right there. Dan, you take this. You deal with it. Have fun, fucker.

“That’s not a fucking thing, and if you ever fucking bring up Sophie again, I swear to God I will have you murdered in your sleep.”

He’s brought back then, all wide-eyed and lost-looking.

With a sigh, he concedes. He is the father. (Wow, that’s fucking weird.) He’s the one who did this to her, with her. He’s the one who fucked her, and subsequently fucked them both over.

“Nah, you wouldn’t.” He glances down at Amy, raises one eyebrow pointedly in that way she really, really, truly fucking detests, “You wouldn’t deprive yourself of that pleasure.”

His gaze shifts to the door then as it swings open, allowing Amy’s (midwife? obstetrician? fuck knows!) doctor to walk through. A nurse follows, and Dan catches a quick glance of Amy’s mom talking to Gary in the waiting room.

Are they deciding which one of them is going to watch over the kid first so that Amy can catch some sleep, and Dan can go home and change out of his day-old shirt? He’s actually surprised that, for once, Gary isn’t at Selina’s side like a fucking half-turtled turd.

Amy’s been here for fucking hours – all bed-ridden and shit in a sweaty dull-coloured hospital gown, and (truth be told) he’s still pretty pissed about the blue balls she’d left with him earlier. (Granted, she went into labour, but still.)

Going home to stroke one out might actually come in handy. Pun fully intended, he grins. Just as long as he doesn’t catch a view of her child-baring vag beforehand-

“How are we feeling?”

He’s flicking open the chart the nurse hands him - Dan’s forgotten his name because it was some European-sounding bullshit and he had more important stuff to do than learn it - and he smiles up at Amy, all red hair and freckles and glasses.

“Just tell me if I’m fucking dilated.” Amy writhes on the bed, focuses her attention on the patterned ceiling, and Dan’s damn sure she’s gonna pull a fucking Exorcist in a minute and start levitating. It doesn’t look comfortable. Maybe Mike hadn’t been lying about his surrogate’s birthing story, after all.

The doctor shoves his glasses up his nose, snaps the chart shut and smiles (like a fucking teenage boy who’s gonna get his first upfront look at a woman’s privates).

He leans forward, does his thing (and Dan watches him out of the corner of his eye because focusing on that is a little more personal than he’s willing to get right now, or ever.)

He’d rather not see some guy - trained professional or not - put his hands anywhere near Amy’s crotch. (Unless it’s in a mirror… and he’s the guy.)

“Looks like I was right on time. You’re just about ten centimetres.”

The blonde sits up in her bed then, neck muscles still tense, shoulders raised and bony, “So the little fucker’s finally ready to come out?”

“Amy.”

“I can… start pushing?” She corrects herself with a sigh, half-ignores Dan’s burning stare. Fuck you.

“Seems so.”

She briefly relaxes then, lets herself fall back for only a moment, but then another contraction hits her again, only it’s worse this time, and Dan’s hand is actually there for her to hold and bruise and fuckin’ crush. Jesus, woman!

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“If we’re waiting for that, the kid’s never coming out.”

It’s intended as a joke, but Amy just tightens her hold around Dan’s hand, waiting until his knuckles crack before finally softening her grip.

Prick.

He holds up his other hand (semi-apologetically given the proud look on his face) before lowering it down to the side of the bed, wrapping it around the metal post and leaning closer to her.

“Okay. Push.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just fuckin’ push, Amy.” He sounds ticked off, worked up, “Jesus, it’s not hard.”

Despite herself, she finds herself reassured when his hand reaches for her own, and then she’s going for it.

-

Turns out, it’d been harder than he thought it would be.

That epidural – no, those two epidurals – clearly hadn’t done shit because she was still in pain throughout, and her body was on the brink of a fucking collapse. Maybe that’s just what happens though. How the fuck is he supposed to know? He didn’t even wanna be here for this until she roped him, forced him into it.

Watching Amy Brookheimer give birth (to his child) hadn’t ever been on his bucket list, and now, he notes, there’s a reason that was. The whole thing had been brutal. She screamed, in his face, into his shirt. She cried, in his arms, into his shirt. She sweated, like a fuckload.

She’d been all red and warm and horrifically in pain, and Dan’s pretty sure he’s going to picture her mid-labour face whenever he’s holding himself back from coming from now on.

At least now she’s calmer, and quieter, and she’s finally fuckin’ let go of his hand. Honestly, childbirth turned out to be much more of a team sport than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t think he’d ever have to be someone’s punching bag, or actual fucking support system, so that was an experience.

At least now she looks like herself, and her blonde hair is straight again because she (post-labour, of course) practically assaulted a nurse until they gave her a hairbrush. Type A, confirmed.

At least now, he can run his hands through pretty, long, straight blonde hair and grab it, tug it, pull it. Maybe once she’s out of here, and he’s changed out this bloody tear-stained, snot-ridden sweaty mess of a striped shirt, they could-

Honestly, she’s really fucking glowing and he’s kind of enjoying it. Is she supposed to look this fuckable after just giving birth? He’s probably a mess himself, all bruised knuckles from her death grip, and aching legs from standing up for so long. Oh, well.

Their son is born at a healthy weight, with blueing grey eyes and a patch of light dark hair atop his head. But he’s all gunky and gooey and just plain fucking gross, so the nurse takes him away to be cleaned up when Amy’s had just about a minute with him.

He was actually kind of… cute? Fuck, she hates that word.

Cute in a way that meant if she stared at him for too long, she’d fucking vomit. Cute in a way that meant he was cuter than most babies – but then again, that’s just their genetics.

“You did great.” Dan’s grinning (again, like a dickhead), “You know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I’m serious.”

It’s not the first time he’s complimented her skills, competence. But it’s a strange kind of sincerity, one with a little more meaning, depth behind it than she’s used to receiving from him, from anyone.

Pushing herself up on both palms, her back aches as she stretches, props herself up into a comfier position against some square pillows. It’s not soothing, though, and she has to readjust the shitty cushions behind her to find some kind of comfort. She’s fucking sat on one, and it’s doing nothing to alleviate the pain she’s feeling down below.

“When do you think I can leave?”

She wants to be working, walking about, running around, doing things. Being cooped up in a hospital bed is not fun, is not productive, is not rewarding. Granted, she can still talk and call and email but it’s not the same as being up and about, out where the action is, where she’s actually useful.

Dan gets to leave whenever he likes. Dan doesn’t have to remain on bedrest for an undetermined amount of time. Dan doesn’t have to deal with a sore vagina and everything else that entails. Dan is a man, got the ‘get out of jail free’ card when she drew the one that forces her to take five places back.

Dick, she scowls.

“Probably tonight. That nurse said there weren’t any complications so we can probably go home later.” He reasons, shrugs as though it’s nothing major. Dick.

“We?” Amy lifts a brow, sniffles, “You can go home already, you know.”

“What, you think I’m just gonna fuckin’ leave you here?” Dan stares down at her, runs one hand along the cool railing, “Jesus Christ, Amy, you just had my kid. Even I’m not that fuckin’ cold.” He almost looks appalled at the idea – he’s desperate to leave though, to go home. Fuck it, he’s half-tempted to pack her bag, get her dressed, grab the baby and make a run for it.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to wait for me-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His head ducks, eyes closing. What the fuck is he doing?

“I can have my mom bring me back to the apartment later. It s fine-” Because she’s still here, because Grandma B likes being involved in all things Baby Brookheimer-Egan related, because she’s just that kind of person. At least they’ll have someone to babysit for them that isn’t hired or fucking Gary.

“Amy, seriously. Shut up.”

“Why?” She smirks, figures she can get a rise out of him and whatever the fuck he’s trying to conceal. Is that… fucking emotion, some kind of weird display of fucking devotion? What- “Or Gary. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyway, other than trim Selina’s nails or wipe her ass.”

“You’re not going home with Gary. For fuck’s sake, Amy. Is it so hard for you to just shut your fucking mouth every once in awhile?”

You getting worked up there, Danny?

He sighs (deeply, strangely), and then he’s leaning down and kissing her before she can even say anything else, anything at all.

It’s a weird kiss, different from their normal, their usual. There’s no tongue shoved down her throat (which she almost sadly longs for), no hand on her neck (which is oddly irritating), no hair-pulling or shirt-tugging (which she really fucking craves).

It’s just a kiss on her lips (soft, surprisingly bland yet somehow charming), and then it’s over.

“What the fuck?” She exclaims when he’s pulled back, scratching the space between dark furrowed brows. “What, did you develop some kind of sappy dad hormones as soon as the fucking baby started kicking and screaming?”

“No, I-” He begins, shifts his gaze from the white sheet of her hospital bed to her face, all pink lips and flushed face. “I don’t know, Amy. Fuck!”

He doesn’t know why he kissed her - like that - save for the fact that he wanted to (almost desperately), so he did. Fuck, he feels feverish. He’s flushed, more than she is, has been, and he doesn’t understand why. His breathing is faster than it was a moment ago, and he wants nothing more than to take that kiss back.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Amy leans back against her pillows, hitches up the bottom of her gown and stretches out her legs. “Fuck.” Her eyes close and she swallows a breath, way too calm for his liking.

Why isn’t she on edge? Why isn’t she begging to be let out of this room? Why isn’t she bribing nurses?

Why isn’t she Amy?

“You know I like you, right?”

“You like me?” She grins despite her eyes remaining closed, and her neck reddens, “Wow, Dan. What a revelation.”

“As in, I like you more than I like anybody else.” Dan shrugs (for no good reason), and he clears his throat with one hand smoothing along the bed railing, “As in, I say I like you, but it’s more than that, and you know it.”

“Oh, I do? Because you’ve made it so blatantly obvious over the years?” She laughs, once, practically hiccups. “Sure, Dan. You like me like that.”

His fingers dance along the thin mattress, curling around the hem of her gown, all pale skin and pastel blue cloth.

Why is she Amy?

“You never wondered why I stayed?”

“Because you think you’re getting something out of this.” She reasons, peeks one eye open and looks at him, flicks both eyes open when she notices his frown. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like someone just reported you as a sex offender? Sort your face out.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” He nods. He did get sex out of this. He did get Amy out of this, in some way, in some capacity. He did get a mini version of himself out of this, and his narcissistic ass kind of really loves that part of the deal. “Not entirely.”

“Oh, go on.” Amy smiles, “What am I missing? Why did you stay?”

“Because it’s you.”

Why is she Amy?

Because if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be Dan.

“Is this the part where I swoon, and you get down on one knee, and the whole hospital staff applauds when I agree to marry you?” She’s smirking - that bitch! - and she licks her lips, holds her breath for a second.

“Is this where we elope and move to the suburbs and fuck maybe once every three months and I don’t let you finish?” Biting her lip, “Is this where you say you love me?”

She drags out that word, and Dan’s face near drowns of all colour. Fuck her.

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?”

She just nods, sheepish, lets the hand in her lap move to brush against his own, toying with her blue gown, “You love this cunt.”

“I do.” His palm runs along her stomach, stops just above the space between her legs. “And you love this dick.”

Amy smiles, ducks her head, understands him straight away yet doesn’t exactly deny it, “Fuck you.”

“Oh, believe me, you will. I’m just waiting until we can leave and they clear you for sex.”

“You’re seriously fucking turned on by this, aren’t you? That’s some next level, twisted mommy-issue shit right there, Dan.”

“Babe, the only mommy I’m thinking about right now is you.”

“If you start calling yourself ‘daddy’, I swear your balls are getting the chop.”

“Daddy Egan?” He boasts, beams.

“Just my luck.”

[planarchaosproject]

Planar Chaos: Chapter Twenty

Black and White and Red All Over

"Okay, you two," Odom said, standing between Ashleigh and Brock, "I want you at opposite ends of the elemental at all times. We're on a mission, and you're either going to have to look past your differences or not interact at all."

"That's right," Marthel said. He was standing across from Odom with one hand on Brock's shoulder as much for restraint as for comfort. "We've got to get to the center of this maze to get out. Kyari's missing and Ashleigh's friend is likely the only person who can help us find her. The sooner we do both of those things, the sooner we can escape and get on with our lives."

"Since," Odom continued, "given the looks on your faces you aren't particularly intent on our former option, we'll have to go with the latter. No interaction. Now, both of you turn around and walk away."

The rival walkers did so, Ashleigh joining Sverre, Oona, and Sa'Raah as they played with Abby while Brock stalked over to where Nadia sat, begrudgingly eating a slice of bread.

"I didn't know angels ate," Brock said.

"They don't," Nadia said curtly. "I, however, must. I have been touched by the space between spaces. It has changed me. There is nothing more to it." She took a bite and grimaced.

"Well," Marthel said to Odom, "I think that went well."

"Mhm," Odom replied. "Let's just hope we can keep it this way. I don't want a fight to start."

"You'll just have to keep your little cutie pie away from him," Marthel cautioned.

Odom's face grew dark. "It's going to be hard. Abby's getting very curious." He glanced over to where the abomination was sitting in Sa'Raah's lap, propped up with its rear tentacles and feeling her horns. One of Abby's tentacles touched its own small horns that were beginning to form. "It's able to recognize features it shares with others and seems to be building a conceptual model of the world from a psychological standpoint. I'm just happy this endless gray maze provides enough sensory stimuli for proper cognitive development."

"We're a pretty ragtag bunch, Odom," Marthel said. "I'm sure that between all of us Abby's getting enough sensory input."

Ashleigh smiled slyly at Sa'Raah. "So what's this I'm getting about Sarkhan Vol?"

Sa'Raah blushed bright red in response.

"Go on, or do you not kiss and tell?" Ashleigh pried.

"I prefer not to," Sa'Raah said. "Mother did teach me modesty, which you wouldn't think a dragon would care about all that much."

"Seems like it was more than kissing, then," Sverre said.

"It must hurt to be parted from him for so long," Oona said. "I can't recall the last time Sverre and I weren't together, it's been so long."

"And it will be even longer, my love, once we can be together forever, never parted by the cold kiss of death," Sverre said dramatically.

"I do miss him," Sa'Raah revealed. "He's the only other person in the multiverse that understands just how I feel about dragons."

"Go on," Ashleigh prompted.

"And when we're together, I can just tell how fascinated he is with me, how attracted to me he is. The first time we met, we almost…" Sa'Raah trailed off.

"So it was an instant connection," Sverre said approvingly. "I felt the same way about Oona when I first beheld her heavenly beauty. I didn't care that she was a dainty fairy queen and I a profane necromancer unworthy of her sight. I strove to be the kind of man worthy of such divine affections. I did whatever it took, up to and including brutal, cold-blooded murder."

Maelstrom Wanderer lurched forward as the spider construct began to move again. The hydra no longer obstructed its path back to its director, but instead had wandered off into the maze.

"I hope we can get that damn beast back," Marthel said, sitting down next to Brock and Nadia.

Odom followed him, joining the quieter of the two groups. "I don't know that I've ever actually seen Kyari without the hydra. She'd bring it with her on research projects and just let it roam around while we took our samples."

"The reason she never lets it out of her sight," Brock explained, "is that it planeswalked with her that first time. They wound up somewhere dark, surrounded by metal and death. She doesn't know what plane it is, but I have my guesses."

"She's too young for it to have been Phyrexia, Brock," Marthel said.

"You don't necessarily know that. Elves live a long time."

Odom yawned. "He's got a point, they do have long lifespans wherever they exist. The only thing that lives longer are dragons, vampires, and planeswalkers. I'm not counting angels, Nadia, no offense."

"None taken. From our birth on Bant we were functionally immortal."

"Technically speaking," Marthel chimed in, "angels aren't born. They're made."

Odom and Brock each arched an eyebrow.

"The prevailing theory, from what I've been able to find regarding the subject, which involved several heated interrogations of one Soratami planeswalker, is that angels were created by Serra, an ancient planeswalker." Marthel smiled smugly.

"How did you get Tamiyo to tell you anything?" Brock asked.

"Basically, she started lecturing me with stories."

Brock smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, she does that a lot."

"Where does she get those stories, by the way?" Odom asked.

"I'm going to be honest. I don't really know." Brock said.

000000

Several days had passed. The spider construct was forced to move slowly so its tagalongs could navigate the maze. On the back of the elemental, things were getting heated.

"That damn thing tried to attack me," Brock shouted as Ashleigh took a defensive stance in front of Abby.

"It's just curious, Brock," Odom said, trying to diffuse the situation. "It's harmless at this stage of its life."

Sverre mumbled something about his helmet begging to differ. Sa'Raah took an opportunity to scoop Abby off of the ground and carry it away from the brewing fight.

Marthel stood in between Brock and Ashleigh, his curved knife at the ready in case one of them made a move.

"It won't be harmless forever, don't you see that? I can prevent so much death, so much loss, if I destroy it right here and right now." Brock's wide eyes had taken on a manic quality.

"And I promise you that if you were to kill Abby that Ash would go off the deep end," Odom said. He glanced over to where Ashleigh stood. She hadn't moved, or rather she hadn't seemed to. He felt her delicate mental fingers picking through his mind for a spell, any spell that could work inside the maze. No doubt she had already combed through everyone else's minds except her rival's.

"She's already off the deep end, Odom, she lives in the deep end," Brock laughed harshly.

"I think we ought to let them settle this, don't you?" Marthel said coolly. He took a step back.

"No fighting on the elemental," Odom said emphatically, crossing his arms.

Ashleigh took a running leap from Maelstrom Wanderer's back and landed on the ground below. In this one spot gravity seemed to function properly. Brock followed, glaring over his shoulder at Marthel standing there with his dinky little knife and Sa'Raah cradling the unholy mass of flesh.

"Traitors," he muttered.

Ashleigh was waiting for him when he landed. She rushed him down, flinging blasts of electricity. Brock calmly stepped to the side, sending her tumbling over the edge of the walkway. What he didn't expect was to see her come back up the other side, hands sparking. Brock retaliated with fists of flame, using a special technique he'd learned from his time studying on Mount Keralia. He had to regulate his breathing, his heartbeat, even his blinking to draw upon the mana of the plane and channel it into the invisible flames. Ghostfire would serve him well against the crazed electromancer.

Ashleigh feinted right and jabbed to the left. Brock struck at her shoulder, his superior physical strength sending Ashleigh staggering back. The Ghostfire had burned away her coat, revealing more of her sun-starved skin. Her eyes flicked up to where Sa'Raah held Abby. The abomination's eyes were riveted to its mother, following her every move. Ashleigh let out a feral growl and attacked with renewed viciousness. She gave up all pretense of cunning, operating purely on instinct. Brock smiled to himself. He could use this erratic fighting style to his advantage. He dodged her blows, allowing Ashleigh to tire herself out.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Sa'Raah asked. "We're stronger together."

"They want to tear each other apart," Marthel said. "I say we should let them get it out of their system."

"Besides," Odom said, "If they tear each other apart I can get those deep tissue samples I've been needing from both of them."

"Ever the scientist, Odom," Sverre said, smirking. "That said, Ashleigh doesn't look like she's doing so well. I don't think I've ever actually seen her with her hair down. It's longer than I expected."

"Yeah, it's really soft too," Odom said. "I hope she doesn't lose those combs, or Brock doesn't break them. They're her favorites."

Ashleigh was breathing heavily and bleeding from the corner of her mouth. She spit on the ground, sending a tooth skittering into a separate gravity field, where it began falling up. "Didn't anyone tell you never to hit a lady?"

"With all due respect," Brock said, barely breaking a sweat, "you aren't a lady."

He reared back his fist and punched. Ashleigh was too late to dodge it. She felt her ribs crack and stars erupted behind her eyes when her head crashed into the hard ground. Her foot twitched and her breathing came in wet gasps. Her eyes, though out of focus, were still filled with malice and the will to fight.

Brock stood over her, ready for the kill, when Odom appeared before him. His own fist connected with Brock's chest, sending the monk flying and causing similar injuries to those he'd inflicted upon the Voidcaller. Brock found himself staring at the ceiling watching his blood start to drip upwards.

"Marthel, hold him still," Odom ordered. Marthel did so, giving Brock an apologetic look.

Odom knelt down by Ashleigh, gently stroking her face and hair while a series of extra arms harvested the samples he needed before healing her wounds. He did the same with Brock, minus the stroking.

"Sorry, dude, but that'd just be weird," Odom said, picking bits of Brock's innards out and placing them in separate vials before regenerating his broken body.

Ashleigh was back on her feet and ready to begin fighting again when she felt something pick her up by the back of her collar. A barky substance with hot breath that smelled like brimstone closed around the fabric gently and Maelstrom Wanderer lifted Ashleigh off the ground like a mother cat would do to a disobedient kitten. Odom himself helped Brock up and put a friendly yet firm arm around his shoulders. The grip was tight to the point of almost being painful.

"We're going to take a little walk, you're going to come with me and Ashleigh's going to go with Broski," Odom explained.

"Odom get your overgrown tree dog to put me down," Ashleigh demanded. Maelstrom made an angry rumbling noise in response.

"He's not a tree dog, Ash, he's an elemental." Odom rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Brock. "Women, am I right?"

They began walking, Odom directing their path.

"I don't think you see what I'm trying to do, here, Brock," Odom said after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. "So I'm going to explain it again. You're aware that Ashleigh hears voices, right? She's constantly assaulted by the voices of the living. She's been doing fine here on Xerex because there are maybe thirteen sapient beings on the whole plane. But on other planes she doesn't do so well. Take Ravnica, for instance, it's a giant, densely populated city. Her mind is bombarded with a dull roar in the background of all her thoughts. It's enough to drive someone insane, and at times it has. But you know what, if I can keep her distracted for long enough with something new she does just fine. If I give her something to care about, she can resist that urge to destroy everything for a moment's peace and quiet. Then Abby came along, and she can now exist without hearing those voices if she has Abby. So, while you see the presence of Abby as something terrible and dangerous, I see the opposite. Abby's death might be just what Ash needs to fly off the handle and go on a rampage. So I'm going to give you another chance, because I like you. You're a swell guy, and I do think we need someone like you on this team, but this will have to be your last chance. If you can't keep that temper of yours in check we're going to have another problem, and next time I won't duplicate your attacks at half power."

"I don't see you asking her to keep her temper in check," Brock spat.

"So I have a soft spot for her. Go on and have the Azorius and Orzhov sue me. I'd like to see how long it takes you to fill out the paperwork. You'd have to give yourself to the Maw of the Obzedat just to exist long enough to finish it." Odom shrugged. "Good luck."

"You're not being fair," Brock said.

"No, I'm not. And I won't be 'fair' just because you say to." Odom stuck his tongue out.

Brock groaned. "Okay. I'll do my best not to get angry, alright?"

"I'm satisfied. Shall we rejoin the others?"

"Only on the condition that you talk to her."

"I don't have to, Marthel is taking care of that for me. She gets these big puppy dog eyes and I just can't be stern with those, but they don't have an effect on Marthel at all."

"At least someone sees through her," Brock said, rolling his eyes.

[skinmittencw]

A Tragedy on South Street

 A great tragedy occurred the day Gary Rothburn returned home from school in the spring. Late Saturday evening, after dinner had been served and finished off, and the local theater had closed for the night, Father Hadley Bishop stepped off the curb in front of the South Street drug store, and was flattened by a city bus. The driver--the sole occupant of the bus--was traumatized. He found the poor priest squished beneath the bus, and when he saw that his rotund upper half had been severed from his legs, he fell to the ground in shock. It was an hour before the store clerk closed up and found the whole scene perfectly preserved. The next morning, for reasons unknown to him, the town was convinced that Gary was responsible.

“I’m sorry Gary but you just can’t stay here tonight.” The voice was muffled, and frightened.

“But mom!”                  

”Oh please, Gary. Don’t make this difficult.”

 “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Sunday afternoon was beginning to fade, and Gary found himself smooshed into an aging telephone booth, praying that no one would notice him.

“We’ll just have to wait for this all to blow over and then we’ll work something out.”

“Mom, what am I supposed--”

“I’m sorry Gary I have to go. Please don’t call again.” She paused. “I love you.” And hung.  

He could not call again even if he wanted to. No more quarters. 

For Gary, the day had been incredibly startling, and for the first time, he feared for his life. He awoke on Sunday morning to find the town in upheaval. His mother was hysterical.

“It’s Father Hadley!” She sobbed. “He’s been brutally murdered!”

This, of course, was not true, but as Gary would soon discover, the entire town was in agreement about the nature of the “accident.” They all rushed to the church that morning, frantic, and seeking guidance, but without their beloved Father, they had little hope. Women wept and men bowed their heads solemnly. Others were more vocal.

“I just can’t believe this! I cannot believe it!” Mz. Dooley was outraged, and also seated in the pew directly beside Gary and his mother. “Can you believe it?”

Gary shook his head. His mother blew her nose. “I was up all night just watching the news! It was so terrible.”

Gary nodded. His mother sniffled.

“What were you doing when you heard the news?”

“Well,” she wiped her nose, “Gary just got home last night and I didn’t even hear about it until--”

Mz. Dooley gasped. “You mean to say that the very day dear old Father Hadley left us, that boy arrived home from school! Oh I don’t believe it!”  

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well you know what dear old Father Hadley used to say? He said that there are no coincidences in life. That there’s a reason for everything and everything has a purpose. Nothing just happens. I believe it.”

Later that day, with the phone still pressed to his ear, Gary bit his thumb. He had wandered around for hours with nothing to do aside from avoid the wrath of the frequent churchgoers. The telephone booth was getting smaller. Then it burst.

“Ahhh! Hey!”  He turned to find a small, skeletal old woman with big fluffy white hair. She grabbed another rock out of her purse and hurled it at him.  

“Ah! Please stop! I had nothing to do with it!”

She hobbled away, but it was not the first incident of the day, and it would not be the last. When his mother had thrown him out of the house that morning, he was greeted by a mob of distressed housewives. They spat at his feet and hissed as he passed.

“You’re mother’s a smart woman. I wouldn’t let you under my roof. It’s a shame she gave birth to the devil’s baby!”

Gary hadn’t taken the threats and accusations of the women at church seriously until they arrived home after the service, when his mom began to fidget and ask strange questions.

“Gary when did you say you were going back to school?”

”Uh, not for a week.” He sipped his orange juice. Pulp free.  

 “But I’m sure you have work to do, and friends to get back to. I’d hate to keep you from all that.” 

 “No, not really.” Gary was nineteen and by the second week of school he was exhausted. His roommate sold breakfast burritos out of their dorm room and there was a constant stream of people roaming in and out of Gary’s personal space. 

 “You see Gary, I’m what you call an entrepreneur,” his roommate had announced one day. Gary was studying a biology textbook.

  “Yes I know what an entrepreneur is Kevin.”

 “I’m making my way Gary. I’m building my empire brick by brick...well, burrito by burrito really.” He chuckled at his own jokes frequently. Gary did not. 

“Remember Gary,” Kevin had warned, “a good sense of humor is important. People skills Gary. Vital to a life in the high-stakes world of business.”

Gary had gone directly from boarding school to college, and to his dismay, he found that they were identical. He had considered dropping out several times. Maybe he would go to culinary school, or Dubai. But in the end he figured he could suffer through a few more years. It was safer that way.

 That Sunday morning, his mother was persistent. “Well I would hate for you to get all settled in here and then just have to go right back to school. I’m sure by the time you come home for summer vacation everything will have settled down again.” Gary’s mother was nervous--moreso for herself than for her son. They would eat him alive and take her down with him. She knew that if she had to, she would kick him out in a minute. And she did.   

The telephone booth was no longer a viable shelter. Gary brushed the shattered glass off of his suit. His Sunday best. He began to think he might be buried in that suit. He wandered in the street, his lip bleeding and his courage fading. Evening began to fall and he ducked in the shadows of tall buildings to avoid the glare of headlights passing by. His stomach was empty except for the glass of orange juice that morning, and the glow of the sub shop across the street called to him.

“Psst! Psssst! Come here boy!”

 “Well that’s strange,” he thought, entranced by the magic of the neon sandwich sign.

“You! With the large feet!”

Gary looked up. Three stories above the shop, an eccentric, rumpled old figure dangled out of the window. He stumbled across the street, and his lack of better judgement led him up a flight of stairs.

“Come on mom. You’re not serious about this.” Gary stood in his kitchen, still recovering from the strange events of Sunday morning mass, and unable to believe that his own mother had turned against him. 

Mrs. Rothburn wrung her hands.

“Is this about that priest?” He set the glass of juice down.

 “Well, you just don’t understand Gary. You never knew the man. He was our saviour and, and our friend.” She began to whimper. 

Gary moved toward her. “Oh mom don’t--”

“No Gary. Stay there.”

The mob could be heard congregating outside.

“Father Hadley brought the community together. He united us and showed us the way.” She shivered and someone outside threw a rock at the kitchen window. She gasped.  

Gary ran to draw the curtain. His mother began to sob.

“And he taught us to never let anyone get away with works of evil. We have to defend each other, and avenge each other. And by any mean necessary.”

Any means necessary.

Gary knocked at the door and in moment it cracked open. He found a dead grey eye staring back at him. It was the woman who had called to him in the street.   

“Come in now.”

She had a thick eastern European accent and her apartment smelled like an old bookstore. It was quite barren except for a withered green chair, several oddly shaped drums and a number of other items that appeared to be fashioned from the bones and fur of an animal. A goat perhaps.

“Sit now.” She pushed him to the ground 

Gary was amazed that she managed to keep her head up with the incredible pile of hair atop her head.  

“What do you--”  

“Hush. I will talk now, and you will listen.” She folded up into the green chair so that her hump was comfortably supported by a large goat fur pillow.

 Gary sat down at the library, having finally broken free from the angry mob. Where else was he to go with no money and little imagination? He figured he would wait for his mother to calm down, and call her later. It was the history section and he picked out a book on the civil war. Big guns and slavery and bone saws and--something collided with the back of his head.

“Ah!” A history of China. How unfortunate. There was a young boy behind him.

“You’re the one who killed him aren’t you?” He was angered, but more curious than anything. 

“Of course not. I never even met him.”

“But you are the one who did it right? You don’t have to hide. I won’t hit you again, I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Well I had nothing to do with it.” Gary stormed off through the stacks, wondering why it was that no one seemed to blame the bus driver. Not even the library was safe. 

“Well good luck getting away with that!” The boy yelled.

The librarian shhhd.

The old hump-backed woman licked her dry lips. “I’m sure by now you are familiar with a certain Father Hadley Bishop.”

“Yes, I believe he’s haunting me.”

“No.” The woman was very serious, and her voice rattled. “It is his disciples that haunt you.”

Gary was silent and didn’t speak again.

“He has trained them well. And they will not rest until they have your head on a stick to parade about town. This is no joke.”

It was very dark now.

“I am going to tell you this now and you must listen, and you must do as I say, and you must not ask any questions.”

He nodded, his legs crossed and his lip cut, and she painted him a picture:

“I was very, young, and he was even younger that me at the time. But he still came out on hunts even though our mother disliked the idea of a young boy wandering the mountains. However, our father accepted his desire to come and allowed him to follow close behind.

He was a strange boy and very close with our grandmother. She was a witch. I will not lie to you even about that detail. I have come to accept this, though my parents denied it. But I know that that is the reason we lived in the mountains apart from all other people--to avoid curious stares and accusation. I do not know anything about her past, but am certain that it is vast and terrible.

My brother was pale and often stole the hearts of the goats we killed. I do not know why but I know it had to do with the sorcery of my grandmother.

Then it rained. It rained for weeks and weeks and one day, my brother ran off into the rain. We could not follow. The rain would have drowned us. It drowned the goats. We thought he must have died immediately, but we never found a body. My grandmother must have known though. She must have instructed him to leave and find the order.

Many years later, I found him. He ran off to a monastery. A place of men who learned the ways of their leader. Ways of evil. He was a dark man. He was no priest. Not a man of religion. Hadley Bishop, as they now call him, did not come to this town to save the people, but to enslave them, and to destroy their minds.”

The woman paused and Gary shifted on his seat on the floor.

“You will have to go now and get a rope. Not a very long rope but long enough. And when you come back I will tell you what you must do to escape this wrongful terror.”

She gave him a bag quarters that had been dangling from her neck, and Gary tripped over his feet as she pushed him out of the door and locked it thoroughly. There was little time to swallow all that he had been given.

He came to the drug store at the end of South Street, and as the clerk counted out the quarters, Gary noticed a framed picture of a round old man framed on the wall behind the counter. His hair frayed out of the side of his head and his eyes were cold above his large grinning mouth.

“Hadley Bishop,” Gary thought, “Good riddance.”

“Would you like a bag?”

“That’s alright. Thank you.”

The bell dinged as he burst out of the shop with the rope folded over and hanging around his neck. The remaining quarters jangled in his pocket. Gary stepped off the curb in front of the South Street Drug store and was flattened by a city bus.