#hopefully I didn't mangle anyone

[ddejavvu]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader ft. remus and sirius

summary: james is surprisingly willing to help you despite only having known you for a few weeks.

contents: reader is on her period, james barges into the bathroom because he's That Close to his friends

Sharing both a room and a bathroom with three men after having shared with four women is jarring, to say the least. Your old roommates could be slobs, of course, but there's something about James's habit barging into the bathroom whenever he pleases that doesn't sit right with you at first. You understand why he'd done it before you'd gotten there; you're sure they all had. You had no problem brushing your teeth beside Lily or Marlene while they were showering or peeing, but now that you're equipped with different tools than the rest of your roommates, it just feels wrong for them to see.

You first encounter it on a Monday morning, an appropriately terrible day for a terrible experience. You've just gotten up, and you're using the bathroom before you get dressed for the day, when James decides he needs to shower right then and there. He shouts a quick, 'Comin' in, mate!' Before turning the knob with the broken lock and storming right in, not giving you enough time to announce your presence.

"Ah- James!" You think you'll die right then and there, hands hovering over your crotch as James realizes what he's done. He's butt naked, probably tired after practice and in need of a steamy shower, but he's not any more enthusiastic about you seeing his parts than you are of him seeing yours, and he scrambles to cover himself up.

"Uh- sorry. I didn't realize it was you, I thought- I thought you had classes this morning. I apologize," He smiles kindly, though his eyes bulge where they're glued to your own, "Uh- you can... get back to business."

Neither of you had looked each other in the eyes for nearly 36 hours, but eventually the awkwardness died down, and you moved on.

Until the second time.

"Y/N," He calls, while you're in the shower, behind the flimsy curtain, "Listen, I know you're in the shower and all, but I'm running late, and I really need to brush my teeth. I don't want to rush you, can I just- just pop in there for a second? I swear I won't look."

You're at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish while the water streams around you. You appreciate his consideration, you know he doesn't want to scare you off or cross your boundaries, but it's a bold request. You're covered, sure, but the bathroom light is on, and you're sure you've got a silhouette behind the curtain. But you're going to be a while longer, and it's not fair of you to hold James up.

"Uh- sure," You stammer, covering up your chest like he'll be able to see through the curtain with laser eyes, "Come on in."

He doesn't hesitate to rush inside, but he's considerate enough to close the door after himself so that no one else stumbles upon you. You appreciate it, but you're frozen as he brushes his teeth quickly, bidding you a cheery goodbye like he hadn't just skimmed over giving you a heart attack. He shuts the door on his way back out, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in his tone when he chats with you about his day later.

The third time, the third time is the kicker. You've started your period, the first time since you've been staying with James, Remus, and Sirius. You're sure they wouldn't give you a hard time for it, they seem decent enough so far, but there's just something mortifying about putting a used pad in a man's bathroom trash can.

You've changed your sheets before anyone can see the red stain, but your panties haven't been as fortunate yet. They're laying stained and wet on the ground beside your equally mangled shorts, hopefully not transferring the blood to the fabric below.

You don't get any warning, not enough time to hide them when you hear James's heavy footfalls by the door. He barges in without warning, face shifting to apologetic for only a split second before he registers the bloody clothes on the floor.

"Aah," He yelps, "Fuckin'- Are you wounded? You- oh." His sex education catches up to him, realizing why you've got blood only in the pad of your underwear, "Uh- right. Sorry."

"Get-" You start with a hiss, but you rein yourself in, trying to be kind, "James, can you- can you please get out?"

"Yeah! Yeah, right, I'll-" He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, "Uh- the guys are coming, so I'll head out. And-"

"The- what? Remus and Sirius are on their way back?" You panic, regretting your late wake-up. You could have really used the time they spent at breakfast to clean up."

"Yeah, they're- at the door."

"Close the door!" You urge him, as you hear the two other men enter the room. James does as he's told, but instead of stepping out, he steps in, panicked by your harsh tone of voice.

"Not- no!" You gush, but when he tries correcting himself, you lunge for his hand.

"Don't leave!" You beg, but rush to explain yourself when he frowns worriedly at you.

"I don't-" You whisper, "I don't want them to know I'm in here. Like- like this. If you leave they'll know. Just-" You fall silent with a sigh, "I don't know."

"Right." He nods, keeping his voice down so that it's muffled to Remus and Sirius, "Uh, I'll-"

"James? Mate, m'coming in," Sirius's voice comes from just outside the door, and you and James stare at each other, terrified. He rushes to slam his back against the door, and Sirius is unable to turn the knob.

"No! Uh, you can't-" James stammers, clearing his throat and steeling himself, "Use the bathroom in the hallway. I've got the squirts, mate, you don't wanna be in here with me."

You're lucky that Remus and Sirius groan in disgust, because it muffles your quick snort into your fist.

"You fuckin' animal. I told you not to cram those sausages down your throat," Remus snaps, "Now we can't use it for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, yeah, I've learned my lesson," James promises, shooting you a knowing wink, "Now get out!"

You're fairly certain you hear Sirius groan 'gladly', but you can't be certain. Their footsteps recede, then the outer door shuts, and once again you're alone with James. You wait for him to leave, but he lingers for a moment, politely avoiding staring at your soiled clothes.

"Right, well, they won't be back for a while. Do you want me to leave, too?"

"Uh- no, it's- it's okay," You decide, "You know."

"Yeah. Do you need any," James cringes before he even offers, "Help? I mean, I'm sure you've got wiping down, just- do you want, like, chocolate or something? Doesn't that help?"

"No! No, James, it's alright," You assure him, touched by his offer even if you're also embarrassed by it, "I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"No trouble," He shrugs, letting himself out of the bathroom and hovering in the doorway, "I know where Remus's stash is! He probably won't even notice it's missing, he's got so much. I can snatch some for you?"

"Really, it's okay," You smile kindly at him, still doubled over on the toilet with your elbows covering what you don't want him seeing, "Just- a moment alone, please?"

"Right," He nods with a grin, shutting the door, "Sorry!"

You breathe deep when you finally have a moment alone, cheeks burning with mortification. You're not sure you'll recover from this for a month, conveniently just enough time for it to happen again. You clean yourself up swiftly, not eager to spend more time in the bathroom that's revealed you to your roommate thrice in a month now.

James is kicked back on his bed when you reenter the main room, and he shoots you a kind smile that you bashfully return. You get to work putting new sheets on your bed, but when you move your pillow, you find a chocolate bar tucked under it.

If the sly grin on his face as he turns the page of his book is any indication, he's heard your light chuckle, and knows you appreciate him.

[poppadom0912]

Request

Matt Casey and Wife Reader

There’s a big crash and 51 gets called out to it and they find Matt’s wife’s car in the crash all smashed up and Matt’s pregnant wife unconscious and hurt inside with their toddler son Jack who is crying. So Matt and the 51 guys do their best to save the family of their own Captain.

Warnings: Car crash, canon-typical injuries, death.

A/N: Once again, one month later. Life is not vibing right now but it's okay. I hope anyone who celebrated Eid had a wonderful time! very belated Eid Mubarak.

I hope this suffices and meets your expectations. I know this was sent ages ago and I apologise for the very long wait, I've just had zero inspiration and drive to write. This month has been very stressful with exams but please do enjoy!!

Matt was angsty and restless ever since his 24-hour shift started. There was no reason as to why he was but no matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of the feeling. He tried sleeping it off, eating lunch and even calling you when they weren't busy, but he still felt unnerved.

Just as he was about to text you, wanting to quickly check in again, something he'd been doing much more regularly now that you were pregnant along with looking after your toddler, the bells rang.

Internally groaning, Matt tried ignoring whatever his body was trying to scream at him and rushed towards the trucks, everyone quickly getting their uniform on before jumping into their 'allocated' seats.

It didn't take too long to arrive at the scene, the mess being much larger than what they anticipated. But maybe this was good, the more work he had to do, the less time he had to himself and to contemplate on whatever was bothering him today. The scene was one large mess, cars mangled together for what seemed like miles.

Maybe this was the exact distraction he needed.

Boden began shouting orders, Kelly and him following as they too started to delegate roles between their own respective crews. With equipment in hand, everyone scattered to hopefully start minimising this massive mess. From the looks of it, several casualties were to be expected with many more injured.

Squeezing between cars, Matt looked through broken windows looking for anyone who was stuck or left behind, also keeping an ear out for any shouts of help. Only, he didn't hear anyone shouting for help, but he heard crying.

It wasn't piercing like a newborn; he knew that sound well, but it sounded like a child and that made his heart skip a beat. Ever since Jack was born, calls involving kids become infinitely worse to handle.

Running towards the crying, Matt held his breath in an attempt to hear better, but his feet suddenly came to a stop before his brain could even register what was happening.

That was your car that along with many others, was laying on its side.

Matt vividly remembered you telling him your plans for the day this morning while he got ready for work and you fed Jack. You were going to run to the office to pick up some bits before taking Jack out to the trampoline park with some of his friends and other mums.

Apparently, you never made it to the park.

The crying continued and everything came crashing down on him. It wasn't just any crying, he recognised it easily now that he was closer.

Rushing forward, Matt ignored the broken glass and dropped to his knees as he looked for his family.

He saw you first. Your eyes shut, blood trailing down your forehead, head slumped to the side and seatbelt digging into your body that sat unmoving.

He then looked in the back where the crying hadn't stopped, Jack's eyes screwed shut as he wailed, the occasional 'mama' audible between cries.

"Jack. Daddy's here Jack." Matt forced out, his throat constricting at the sight of his hurt family. First things first, he had to get Jack settled and out the car before he could get you out. "Jack, it's me."

His crying calmed down, eyes peeling open as his crying slowly eased when he found his father.

"Are you okay Jack? You hurt anywhere baby?" Matt asked, easily taking apart the door and getting in besides the car seat.

"Daddy." Finally having one of his parents with and responding to him, Jack started to cry again, making grabby hands towards Matt as his words went through one ear and out the other.

"It's okay. I've got you now." Matt cooed, unbuckling from his car seat and before he could do anything, Jack launched himself into his dad's open arms.

A small oof was forced out of Matt from the sudden force of Jack catapulting into him. But he tightly wrapped his arms around his toddler nonetheless, his chest somewhat lighter with his boy safe in his embrace.

"Matt, is that- oh shit." Kelly swore as he rounded the car, eyes going wide as he saw father and son.

"I'm taking him to Sylvie." Matt started, holding out Jack for Kelly to take so he could jump out of the car that was still on its side and creaking with every movement he made. Without another word, Kelly took his godson and waited for Matt to get out before handing him back over.

"I'm waiting on Cruz and Violet." Kelly said, his eyes remaining on the father and son duo, both of their arms wrapped tightly around the other in fear of being separated again. "We've got Y/N, I promise."

Matt didn't even bat an eye when his best friend made a promise, one of which they were never allowed to make as first responders.

With another glance at your unconscious body, Matt held his breath as he stepped away, his heart constricting when Jack realised what was happening, trying his best to not crumble at his toddler's cries for his mama who wasn't responding to him.

*****

Somehow, Jack came out of the crash relatively unharmed besides the few cuts and bruises. He was for sure to be sore for the rest of the week. You however, your physical state was harder taking into account your pregnancy and they could only do so much in an ambulance.

It took them some time, but they had gotten you out safely, laying down still unmoving on a backboard. There were two of you but only one of him and with the way Jack was gripping his uniform jacket, there was no way he could leave, especially when he'd whimper at any movement he made, in hear his father would leave him alone.

Boden had dismissed him from the scene, giving him the permission to ride in the same ambulance as you, Jack not once letting go of him.

The hospital was in its usual disarray but Matt's concern was so high for you and your unborn child that he didn't even bat an eye at all the doctors and nurses running around ragged.

Natalie had seen you immediately, wasting no time in checking your physical state before scanning your stomach.

Matt could've cried when Natalie confirmed there was absolutely no harm caused besides whatever had been inflicted upon you.

After a few more checks and tests, Natalie turned to him with an understanding smile.

"She most likely has a concussion, some bruises that will definitely be sore for few weeks but nothing internal or severe."

Matt sighed in relief, his entire body deflating as he slumped back in the chair, Jack moving with him from his now permanent position in Matt's lap.

"You can go sit with her."

And so he did without any further prodding.

Walking back into the room, Matt looked your unconscious figure over, confirming with his own eyes that everything was indeed fine and you were in fact healthy.

Manoeuvring the sleeping toddler in his lap, Matt sat down and placed your hand in his. His fingers gently caressing the scars and scratches on your hands, knuckles raw and red from the sudden impact.

Closing his eyes, Matt lightly pressed a kiss into Jack's hair, his eyes stuck on you.

His little family were all safe and with him here where he wouldn't let them out of his sight. If his throat got tight and his eyes watery, glistening in the bright hospital lights, no one saw.

No one would blame a man who almost lost all his family before he could even meet its final member.

Matt sniffled, shaking away such unnecessary deprecating thoughts. You were all here now, unharmed for the most of it, and you were back with him. That was all that mattered.

[writing-frenzy]

It's the things you don't see (That can be Misunderstood)

@werinia

You have probably seen that idea somewhere. Evil sqh. He is not going to change tragic moments. They are the best part of his book. Porn can disappear but these would stay. So if butterfly effect is going to destroy a tragedy or an important plot moment he will save them. SQQ & YQY tragedy and SXY&TLJ tragedy were saved. When LBH stuck too far away from where he should stop. SQH took him and brought to Washerwoman. She decided that he is a father of a child, so SQH named himself Luo Feiji. He was helping Washerwoman with money, which could let her to stay alive but… LBH didn't want to leave from his adopted mother so SQH killed her. LBH swears to find his 'father'.

AN: Huh, this is my first time seeing this idea... hmmm, this idea plot goes against all my Airplane!Shang Qinghua characterization on how I have him. Even at his evilness in my brain, Shang Qinghua is more about going with the flow, inaction, apathy, but occasionally spiteful sabotage against those who fuck with him or mess with his ideas and plots. (Still very much he who wrote Binghe, it just takes... a lot to open that side to him)

So, I'm gonna take this idea and probably mangle it beyond recognition. Sorry, I'll try and incorporate as much as possible. (Hope you still enjoy it)

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

There were many ways a certain An Ding Peak Lord found himself waking up on some days. On the rare, like finding a once-in-a-never-before-seen-treasure if you weren't the protagonist or Author god of this world, Shang Qinghua could actually wake up fully rested, no dreams to torment him or anyone but birdsong to wake him up. Otherwise, it was a random pick of if someone was knocking (well, more like banging) on his door with a 'sect emergency' of sorts. On others, his King could sometimes come for a morning report instead of his nightly one, bringing with him an uncomfortable chill and frozen feet for Shang Qinghua to welcome the day to.

But if there is one thing Airplane hates waking to, it must be the System's ungodly screeching alarm.

!WARNING: WORLD COLLAPSE IF PROTAGONIST DIES!

"I heard you the first fucking time damn it." the brunet transmigrator curses, dressing and disguising himself more akin to a shady merchant than the actual Peak Lord he just so recently became. If he's going where he thinks he is, considering all the drama that happened with a certain Head Disciple and Demon Lord, and a Protagonist in trouble, that can only mean one thing.

Something happened at the Luo River; just great, just what he needed right now. Of course he wants to spend his night looking for a baby in an icy river, thank you world so much for that.

Grumbling, Shang Qinghua goes down one of the many secret tunnels in An Ding, with it twisting and winding down into a deserted valley, where he is soon off like a shoot on his sword.

As he spends most of his night with the system blaring an alarm in his ear, constantly having to cast a life-detecting spell, Airplane truly curses the fact he had to have little Binghe born when it was so damn cold; sure, his cultivation helps him keep out the worst of it, but it does not stop the fucking fact it is still cold enough that he can literally feel the chill from his sword to his feet. Nature can and still is the biggest bitch out there, no matter what.

It is with no little relief that he finally gets the ding he wanted from his spell, showing a human life finally.

Getting little future Demon Emperor from his basket, Shang Qinghua sighs in relief seeing the baby is just really cold, something the Peak Lord can easily fix with his abilities. Eyeing the basket, Shang Qinghua struggles a bit with himself before sighing, he places one of his emergency coin purses in it, something he knows will at least help out and hopefully not get him anymore System Alarms for a while. After getting himself and the baby situated as he stands above the water, he then casts an invisibility spell upon himself, settling in to wait for a certain washerwoman to finally come so he can direct a basket down her way... Not realizing in his drained and tired state it didn't work like it should have.

(Years later, Binghe listens to his mother as she swears to anyone that will listen that it must have been his father's spirit that must have pushed the little baby over to her washing, waiting, willing hands. After all, how else could a healthy little baby survive going down the stream on one of the coldest nights of the year? Even as she weakens, she could never forget the barely there, almost more an outline of fog then man that had directed a basket down her way, and the relief in brown eyes when he saw her take him before he disappeared in the dawn's light.

Binghe grows, knowing if nothing else, at least one of his birth parents must have loved him, if they even defied death to ensure he could live with his poor, but ever so loving mother. It makes him wonder at times, about his origins, makes him want to find out more about his history and his first parents.

As it is, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky spends the day after his little rescue working through a migraine and the mother of all colds.)

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

SQH gets Binghe to his Mother: Check

Washerwoman sees him and thinks it's Binghe's Father: Check

Shang Qinghua provides funds: Check

Binghe grows up knowing about a 'Father' and wants to find (more info about) him: Check

I can say I kept to the spirit of it at least? Hope you liked this, sorry it came so late.

[aerkame]

Keep Me Anchored Part 1

An Ankor x selkie reader because I feel like this is a fun way to explain why he collects selkie coats and how he goes about it. There will be a little bit of x Barnaby as well, but mostly Ankor.

TW: Implied deaths, implied past kidnappings, violence, slight blood.

__________________________________________________________

Ankor never took himself as the kind to act this way, but could it be helped? Anyone would have done the same thing if it were them, right? Maybe he was just making excuses to satisfy his own bloodlust.

A loud thud echoed in the abandoned factory, blood and stuffing mixed as a large figure stepped over the pile of mangled bodies, bodies of what were once ordinary puppets.

Crates were knocked over and shipping boxes torn open by massive claws. He still couldn't find it.

Taking in a deep breath, the shark-dog sniffed, and sniffed, until he finally caught onto the scent he thought he'd lost. There, tucked away under various items was what Ankor came for. He reached in carefully handling the soft item, a selkie's coat...a fresh one. The poor thing.

He nuzzled his snout into it, giving a deep inhale. Male, around his early 20s, probably from the Pacific area judging by the smell. "A shame really...looks like they've been targeting victims more younger now. They must really be running out of supply at this rate." Ankor bit onto his nail in thought.

If he's lucky, the selkie can be easily tracked down since not many of them exist anymore, very unique scents, if not...hopefully one of his fin friends can help with that, they were always better at tracking than him. Besides, he had a concert in about a week or two.

A groan caught his attention.

His tongue lolled outside of the mouth, showing off the many sharp teeth underneath. Looks like he had some cleaning up to do.

__________________________________________________________

Letting your overly excited friend drag you to a concert to listen to a singer you didn't even know seemed like a good idea at first. But now? You have many regrets.

Gripping onto your jacket tightly, you looked to the left, then right, searching for any spot that had at least a tad bit more room.

The entire place was packed full of screaming fangirls and whooping fanboys, all mixes of different puppets, creatures, and beings. The crowd was lively and everything was just too much all at once. Short remora dogs were seen around the stage in front of the crowded guardrails passing out souvenirs. They were kinda cute, you watched as one walked over to your area offering up a shark tooth necklace and a shell necklace, both of which you declined. Your friend eagerly took both. "My sister is going to be so jealous when I get back." she giggled to herself.

"You do you I guess..." you gave a small smile, happy to just be there and make your friend happy. You were pretty curious to see what all the fuss was about, having seen all kinds of products and artwork made by this Ankor Awespire guy.

The lights suddenly dimmed to hot pinks and cyan blues, the crowd got louder.

The crackle of a mic turning on gathered everyone's attention as a smooth and deep voice echoed out "So I heard you came for me... well I'll be sure not to disappoint!" A bright burst of light appeared on the stage and a tall Shark-dog dressed to the 70s stepped out into the sparkling lights and light fog. Talk about making an entrance. You guessed this was another future funk/disco artist based on the attire. Not a bad choice really.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the rowdy crowd grew louder than ever, you were considering on just leaving at this point. Strangers kept touching your coat or brushing past the soft fur, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Maybe you should have left it at home and just hid it somewhere...

Suddenly your friend started screaming, startling you.

"He's coming over here!" She started waving her hands wildly to grab his attention amongst the ever growing crowd. You looked up to the stage to see the man sniffing the air seemingly, before his head turned towards your general direction.

"He's looking at me!" "Over here!" "Ankooor!"

Fans screamed behind you and in front of you making you wince and curl in at the sudden loudness. Your friend stopped yelling upon noticing your shrinking form. "Hey, you alright?"

You nodded "It's so loud..."Hugging you closely, she made sure to tuck most of the fur inside your hoodie and patted your back. "It's alright."

You peeked up looking at your friend's face before your attention was drawn to the stage again.

He was staring straight at you.

Your eyes locked with each other's until the star suddenly made a move to bend down and give something to a nearby remora dog, saying something that could not be heard over the loudness of the crowd. He pointed at you in the sea of people and said something else, everyone was growing quiet wondering what was going on.

The remora dog pushed their way through the crowd until they were at your side, handing you a card. "Please visit Mr.Awespire after the show. It's urgent." The small remora dog swiftly retreated back behind the guardrails. Everyone around you was staring now.

"Ladies and gents, I believe we have our winner for the back stage tour!" Back on the stage was Ankor, who was now pointing at you, a big smile on his face. "As for the next show, please make sure to enter again for another chance at an all exclusive tour." The crowd was back to cheering and yelling,

He twirled his finger, pivoting around to face the back of the stage. "Now for the show you've all come for!"

[cherryfemm]

Welcome to Merston High

Chapter two - Black hearse

The masterlist for all current chapters is pinned on my page 💗

Frankie sat stiffly in the scratched leather seats of the strangly long car. The back of it had this carvern of empty space, filled with only a few cardboard boxes with paperwork and files in them. It was so big you could have probably fit a single bed in it and go to sleep comfortably. Headmistress Bloodgood stared straight at the pot hole filled road ahead of them, not glancing to Frankie even once. They stared down at their scarred and slightly mangled hands.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. On the left.

One. Two. Three. Four. On the right.

They counted the digits on each hand. An asymmetrical display of fingers. Frankie fortunately had both thumbs though. Their father must have ran out when it came to fingers.

Frankie couldn't work out what the Headmistress was. She looked so human and yet seemed so unfazed by their horrific appearance. Her black hair was neatly tied into a bun at the back of her head. She had a long slender neck that poked out of her coats high neckline. Her eyes were a lively blue colour. Her skin, while pale still resembled human flesh, just like their fathers. If the Headmistress was human then why was she taking someone like Frankie to a school presumably filled with other monstrosities.

"I've been asking your father to work for me for years, although I'm always happy for new blood, making you wasn't what I was expecting," The lady chuckled still not moving her eyes. "You are quite the marvel though aren't you?"

Frankie stared out of the window, seeing nothing but leafless autumn trees. They clutched the space where their heart should've been beating and felt nothing. They were like those trees, alive but also dead. Frankie's understanding of humans was very little but they still knew that the heart kept the body going. Without a working heart their body shouldn't be able to move.

"I guess biologically so," They huffed. "But as a person I don't know what I am"

Bloodgood, while still looking at the road emoted a feeling of sympathy. "Hopefully you'll find out who you are," She smiled. "There's so many other students just like you, some were born into human towns, and were chased out and others have never even seen a human before, you all start from different places but you will hopefully reach the same finishline,"

Frankie felt a pulling feeling in their chest, which should've been impossible. "Are all the students exactly like me? Are they also sewn together?"

Bloodgood scowled before putting on a smile. "Actually I haven't seen anyone quite like you in a LONG time," She emphasised. "We boast quite a diverse array of monsters; vampires, werewolves and zombies, which are a little similar to you but not quite,"

"Zombies?" Frankie inquired.

"Zombies in reality aren't exactly how the humans portray them, but thats the case with most of us" Bloodgood put hurt into her words. "We don't know what exactly keeps a zombie from dying like a human, most zombies can't even remember their lives before they wake up again, their bodies decay but still hang on,"

Frankie didn't really know what it meant to die, but then again they barely grasped what it meant to be alive. Being alive for Frankie meant being hooked up to a car battery every night before they blacked out.

"There's good and bad in everyone Frankie, its just a shame most humans only see our baring teeth" Bloodgood sighed. "People are scared of what they don't understand, it's an instinct we need to unlearn,"

Frankie felt an awful feeling of being pulled into reality. Life wasn't just flirting with boys and flicking through magazines. People out there didn't know Frankie and yet hated them just for who they were. The very principle of their being threatened a group of people they had never met. Frankie gripped the plaid skirt their father had laid out on their bed this morning. Biting their tongue out of pure terror.

"It's my job to keep you safe, at least while you're at school," She placed a hand on Frankie's shoulder briefly. "I won't let anyone put a finger on you, any of you, all of my pupils are like my own children,"

Frankie loosened their grip. The car approached a large purple bricked building. It had massive pillars shooting into the grey clouds like spears. The windows were stained glass of figures looking up to the sky. The figures were all different heights, colours, and dramatically different physical features. Some with massive ears, others with fish like fins and others seemily floating off of the ground. The schools courtyard was empty only trash rolling around. A massive statue of a headless man riding a horse was the centrepiece of the schools fountain.

Bloodgood stepped out of the car a walked over to Frankie's door. Opening the door Frankie cautiously stepped out and looked at their surroundings. Birds chirped and squirrels ran around and up trees. With an arm linked with Frankie's Bloodgood guided them to the schools entrance. It was a large wooden door with stone gargoyle heads on each side. Not real gargoyles of course. Bloodgood pushed the door and with a creak they slammed open wide. The hallways were vast and twisted off and up staircases. The walls were lined with paintings of all different kinds of monsters. A large painting hung at the end of the entrance. In the painting was Bloodgood, a tall dark skinned man with a twirly mustache and a girl with a copper like skin tone and large boots. It was almost like a family portrait.

"Let's go to my office, we can go over your schedule for the day" Bloodgood ushered Frankie into the direction of her office.

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

The Weight of the Truth

June of Doom, day 17: "You don't want to do that"/Blackmail (late entry, @juneofdoom )

Genre: angst

CW: bodily harm, gore, blood, torture, death

A/N: the events of this one-shot take place before the events of BG3. It was a little challenging to write because when the campaign took place I wasn't smart enough to take good, detailed notes of the events that went down in each session. Essentially I have a bunch of bits and pieces of Summer's story that are barely connected to each other and now I have to re-invent a lot of that stuff. It's quite frustrating, but hopefully the result isn't too bad.

Empty.

Summer feels completely, utterly empty as she stares at the blood that stains her hands. Honestly, she should've expected this. Revenge tastes bitter when you sacrifice your integrity and the fate of your friends to obtain it.

She knew what she would be giving up when she struck up the deal, and yet it didn't stop her. She needed that woman gone, wanted to make her pay for what she's done to her. She knows how selfish this all is... and yet here she sits, in front of Lady Ashes' mangled corpse as she contemplates the horrible consequences of her actions.

Just two days ago an angel descended from the heavens to eliminate her. It knew about her deal with Asmodos, and if only that blasted thing hadn't underestimated the sheer, raw power of her magic, it would've easily taken her life... and perhaps even her friends'. How long until something like that happens again? Until her companions are caught up in her mess and suffer its consequences?

No... what is she even talking about? They were already caught up in this mess from the moment Summer started selling information to Asmodos and running his errands, deceptively making them look like part of their mission so that her friends wouldn't question her. The terms of her deal prevent her from having to directly harm her group, but let's face it... what she is doing right now isn't any better.

Now Lady Ashes is finally gone, both from the Material Plane and The Creator's realm. After Summer manages to intercept her lackeys before they get to her parents in Ferox, her wretched schemes will never hurt anyone ever again. She got what she wanted, but as the thrill of the kill subsides and that feeling of liberation dissipates... she can't even attempt to feel any happiness for what she's done.

If her soul usually burns as hot as the fire of the Hells, right now it feels more like a frozen lake, silent and dead.

She got what she wanted, but at what cost? Her allies, her friends, still trust her with their lives every single day, not knowing that she is nothing more than a filthy traitor. Not knowing that under her mischievous smile hides the rot of guilt and betrayal. What breaks her heart even more is the fact that the people she travels with are all wonderful individuals and that some of them would even forgive her if they ever found out. Hells, Jaime outright told her that he would've understood wanting to take the deal. That she was a better person than him for refusing. Those words almost make her want to vomit now. She is not better than him, and perhaps she isn't even a good person to begin with.

Arwen is a good person, she deserves those words. She didn't even have to think before she refused Asmodos' pact. Summer wishes she could be like her. Strong and resolute in her way of doing things, rather than being pulled left and right by her volatile emotions and diving in before thinking, unlike her.

Arwen... what would she say if she found out? Would she abandon her? Kill her? She wouldn't blame her if that was the case. Somehow, out of everyone in the group, she is the one Summer is most scared of if she was to find out the truth. Not because of her reaction... but because Summer dreads the idea of hurting her like that.

Hah, but perhaps she is only scared of being caught, because if she truly didn't want to hurt her, then she wouldn't have done this to begin with!

Summer hangs her head in shame, letting out a shaky sigh. “Fuck...”

“My, my... I thought you'd be celebrating by now, my dear. Isn't the vampire's death what you wanted all along?” Says Asmodos' deep, gravelly voice from the darkness. “Surely you've had your fun tonight...” he comments with a glance towards the woman's remains as he finally walks out of the shadows, his large, black wings stretching and then folding down again behind his broad back. “I expected more appreciation for the gift I've given you...” he tuts.

A scoff leaves Summer's mouth as she looks up at the devil with no fear in her yellow eyes. “What do you want, Asmodos?” She spits with disgust, her tail flicking behind her irritatedly. He rolls his eyes in response to her little outburst. “Why, I am merely here to enjoy the sight...” Summer doesn't know if he is referring to the dead prisoner... or to the despair that's surely written all over her face right now... but she has a feeling it might be the second thing. “And to remind you of your little mission, of course. You still need to get rid of the mind flayer-” “I don't want to do this anymore..” She interrupts, and Asmodos' face turns dark. “What was that?”

“I said...” she gets up off the floor, standing her ground as she stares into his equally yellow eyes. “I don't want to do this anymore, so I am not gonna. I already gave you what you wanted, and I got what I required. This ends here. I am not going to do your little errands anymore, and if you have a problem with that, we can settle it right here, right now.” She growls defiantly, her hand already reaching for her dagger.

Asmodos stands still, looking down at her in silence and with an unreadable expression on his face. She thinks he must be at least twice as big as the orcs she had to face off against a month ago. He is massive, and powerful too... There's no way she can actually survive in a fight against him, but if that's what it's going to take to finally get away from his clutches and stop putting her friends in danger, then so be it. She is ready.

“You don't want to do that.” The flat tone of his voice makes a shiver run down her spine. “Actually, I think I do.” She tries to keep her voice as still as possible, but the more he stalls the less confident she feels.. “No, you really don't, little girl.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Did you really think I would kill you so easily? Oh, no, my dear... you are much more useful and much more entertaining alive. So if you were hoping for an easy way out, well... I'm afraid you are going to be disappointed.” A smirk curls his lips. “I gave you the whereabouts of Lady Ashes' underlings, and in exchange I asked that you kill the mind flayer. That part of the pact still stands, tiefling, and you will take care of it if you don't want your little friends to find out what you've been doing behind their backs.” His smirk widens, showing off his sharp fangs. Summer can feel her stomach twisting uncomfortably at his words.

“And in case that wasn't enough to get you to do your damn job... I want to remind you that I might've shown interest in dealing with you and your warlock companion, but I have absolutely no use for the rest of your adorable little group. You're still holding the knife that's sticking out of their backs... surely you don't want to finish them off once and for all?” He chuckles darkly and for a moment Summer feels like hurling. “Don't you dare-!!” His wings open suddenly as he steps forward, making her almost jump back. “Oh I will, if you don't do as I say. Don't play hero, Summer... we both know you're nothing more than a wretched beast.” He growls deeply, almost making the air around them vibrate.

“Keep up your little rebellious act and I will tell your group how you've betrayed them for the mere opportunity of getting to torture and kill the vampire. Then, I will kill all of your friends one by one, slowly and painfully, and I'll make you watch every single second of it. After that, it will be your family's turn and, well... who knows what I'll do with you then? I have yet to decide, but I can assure you... it will be excruciatingly agonizing.” He hisses a mere two centimeters from her face, and Summer feels like he is staring right into her soul and picking apart each one of her sins with his scrutinizing gaze. “Do this for me... and all they'll have to worry about is finding a way out of the continent before I demolish it with them still in it. If they manage to survive that far, that is.” He chuckles again, before turning serious once more.

“I know it's horrendously difficult for you, Summer, but... be smart for once. Stop poking your nose where it doesn't belong and leave. You aren't heroes, so don't try to die like you are. You'll be better off washing your hands of this ordeal, trust me.” For a split second, the young tiefling feels like agreeing with the devil. He is right about her, after all.

She is no hero. Hells, the more she goes on the more she feels like a monster with each passing day. She's been selfish in her choice of accepting his deal... what's another act of selfishness now, after all this? But as quick as that thought pops up in her mind, it disappears without a trace, replaced with a burning desire to put a stop to Asmodos' schemes. This is her home, and he doesn't get to destroy it and kill the innocent people that live in it like they were worth nothing. Summer might be a beast, but those people have done nothing to deserve such an end, and if there's anything she can do to spare them that fate, then she will do it.

So she has to do one last thing for him? So be it, but keeping her alive will have been the biggest mistake of his immortal life. She will make sure of it. If she has to go down then she will bring him down with her.

“I want that mind flayer dead by the end of tomorrow. Don't disappoint me.” He peers down at her, unaware of the flurry of thoughts swirling in her mind right now. “Fine. I'll do it.” And as soon as she says that, the darkness dissipates and she finds herself in the little woods just outside of camp once again.

“Good. Keep your head down and do as I say...”

Summer looks around her warily, trying to see if anyone from camp followed her, but no... she is alone. The sky is still dark and everyone else is probably asleep. She must've been in that pocket dimension for at least four hours.

She can still see the fire crackling weakly in the distance, and by the time she gets back to camp she's already made up her mind.

She won't let him win.

[kazoofnafhumanaublog]

sorry for the ask flood and if I'm burying anyone else's asks (I'm trying not to send more than one between answers though so hopefully not-) but I keep having questions;

what are the nightmare animatronics here. And did bites still happen (87 and 83).

also was Fredbear's family diner still a thing-

(praying these didn't get answered in previous asks and I just. Missed them or forgot immediately XD)

Naw dude keep the questions coming if you got anymore! I love answering em!

the nightmares are a curse sent out by old man consequences- intially targeted towards william but actually got sent to his son after being attacked by a zombie fredbear- it was frebdears revenge at william for killing his own child right in front of him as well as his husband (springbonnie) and himself - cassidy resents him for doing this and does her best to try and protect crying child from succuming to his nightmares but ultimately fails- the nightmares come back to target mari afterwards with nightmare mangle being a new addition because mari was close to mangle. The nightmares use a person’s loved ones or sources of fear against them

the bite of 87 also occured resulting in jeremys death, though the toys and withereds refuse to tell who did it to protect them.

fredbears family diner was the first building- it was a humble family buisness that william wanted for himself, so he killed cassidy springbonnie and fredbear. The sad thing is- he stole springbonnies identity and a lot of the other corpses think it was him who murdered fredbear and cassiy and caused their misery

[brumeraven]

??: Used to Wear a Sword || love, mutilation, emotional abuse, dolls, in which blue lives don't matter

I don't carry a gun anymore.

Not much need for it, I suppose. Doesn't do any good anyways. Seen a doll take 15 rounds center of mass and keep coming, seen heads cut off and limbs still flailing about 'til someone put a cold-iron knife through the thing's core.

Used to wear a sword, of course, some fancy, arcane-wrought thing with a bone-inlaid fuller, all gussied up with inscrimption. Gift from the parents, back when I graduated from the Academy. They were so proud of me back then...

Don't carry that anymore, either.

Here's a trick of the trade for you:

Honestly, a spray bottle works best on the dolls. Something to chastise them, quickly brush away any wisps of Ego they've managed to accumulate in the course of their obsessive collecting of personalities.

Usually 'gresses them right back to manageability, ready for a stern talking to. No activating any buried threat responses like a weapon might.

See, the ones who act out still think they're human. Everyone knows a lecture never hurt anyone, so they come quietly to get wiped.

Still, 5 minutes into this call, I was wishing for that sword I used to wear.

It would have been one thing if its face had been blank, two of its four arms elbow-deep in its Witch's abdomen.

So much for sitting tight and waiting for me to arrive like dispatch had told her...

No, the thing was...sad. Curious. Hungry. None of those fucking expressions belonged on the face of a thing covered in a sickly painting of rust-brown dried streaks and still-fresh carmine rivulets.

"I does not understand... Why did she hate this I?"

It had picked up the first-person somewhere but didn't have the hang of inflection yet. Meant the cancer of personhood was still fresh. Machinists could probably excise it without much damage once I brought it in.

"What are you, uh, what're you looking for there, sweetie?" I kept my voice gentle, casual. The impromptu operating theater was full of dolls, whether half-built or half-disassembled was impossible to say with the mess. All of them unremarkable, identical to the problematic one.

"Love." The single-word sentence was punctuated by a wet, sucking sound and the hollow, staccato cracking of bones as the thing spread its arms, slowly separating her ribs, mechanical strength shredding bone, muscle, and skin alike with the carelessness of a child playing in mud.

What was left of a real person twitched silently on the floor and heaved her last, laying still again as I allowed myself a slow blink. Not in time to save her, but in time to watch her die.

The selfish voice in my head whispered a quick prayer of thanks I hadn't been a few moments earlier, before it had torn through her diaphragm. The moments she could have still screamed, before her lungs collapsed.

Forcing down nausea, I opened my eyes to find it holding quivering, unrecognizeable flesh.

Funny thoughts at times like this: fiction always made me expect a heart to keep dramatically beating after it was torn out.

Instead, just something mundane, just pitiful fibrillation.

"Look, sweetie, put that...put that down for a sec and let's talk about what's going on h-"

I had to duck as it hurled the now-useless lump of mangled muscle in my general direction; a sterner tack was warranted. "Okay, you are beginning to make me cross; is that what you w..."

I trailed off as it paid me no mind, motions taking on a reverential quality as it produced a large chunk of colored glass the size of a fist, cut and polished to a rough approximation of a tetartoid doll core and laid it gently between the twin ruins of what used to be lungs.

The thing rocked back and forth as it watched raptly, expectantly, hopefully.

Silence, and then it slumped in on itself all at once. A malfunction?

Limbs quivered as an inhuman keening escaped the trembling machine. "Please...I'm sorry..."

Picking up conjugation that quickly?

I crept slowly forwards, motions soft and non-threatening, hand alighting on a cold shoulder. It flinched at the touch and turned its face up to me, tears running down porcelain cheeks. Tears it shouldn't have been possible for it to cry. "I know, uh, I know you loved her, but-"

A fresh wail broke lose from the poor girl, and she clung to me weakly with blood-covered hands.

"N-no. I wanted to, b-but I couldn't, couldn't love any of them." A half-gesture indicated the piles of dolls around the room. "They weren't...they weren't just like me. No one is."

"Shh...it's okay, sweetie." I stroked her hair gently, a stab of pain in my chest for this poor child's plight. "You don't have to be alone; I'm here for you."

I closed my eyes and smiled, rocking her gently, her warm tears wetting my shirt, the fabric clinging moistly to skin.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, and a twinge of guilt ran me through the gut. Her arms were warm, comforting, convincing, and the world faded, a dull, distant memory, even as I felt her hands grasping, rooting around. Why had I ever carried that sword?

She mumbled soft words in my ear, a gift, a last thought for me, a koan to reflect on:

"I love you?"

[reptilia0freptiles]

OC trivia + how they met!

Trivia first!

Sepia

Shamrock

Cerise

As for how they met? Hehe STORY TIMEE

Images flashing through his brain of him and another person, emotions bursting through his skull and a message ringing through his mind over and over woke Shamrock up in a cold sweat. Drat, he thought, yet another vision I can't interpret.

It was only another day. One that was supposed to be normal. Sepia casually walked down the dirt path to town. She didn't see the bushes move, nor did she hear the leaves unnaturally rustling with each other. She only noticed something was off when a sudden movement caught her off guard. Bandits!

Cerise would pledge her loyalty to anyone who saves her. Including a bunch of rogue criminals. When they found her huddling under a tree to stay warm, they offered to take her in, to which she gladly accepted. Afterall, Cerise was fine with stealing.

When he heard a terrified scream from just what sounded like the other side of of the forest, Shamrock dropped what he was doing and ran toward the sound. He knew that the area was near a camp of bandits and thieves and feared that an unlucky traveler had gotten jumped. He lunged into the battle with his sword drawn.

Sepia couldn't be more grateful when the green stick figure launched himself at the rogues when he did. He stabbed one of them in the leg and the rest jumped back and ran. Before she could utter a thanks, he grabbed her (bridal style) and pulled her away. Once they reached the town, he put her down and shook her by her shoulders saying that she must be more careful next time- someone might not be able to come to her aid like he had -before leaving Sepia at the gates, still slightly stunned. Shaking herself back into reality, she started giving chase to the stranger.

Cerise could barely think through the pain. Her leg had blistering pain shooting through it, but what's more is that lingering feel of betrayal. She was vulnerable, lying there with no defence, and who she thought she could look to for help had cold heartedly left her to die. She painstakingly picked herself up and began limping her way towards town, knowing that the woods that surrounded her was surely hiding traps or traitors.

Shamrock was surprised when he heard the sound of the brown stick figure running towards him. Pausing to let her catch up, he took the moment to study her. She had no scars, and looked innocent enough. That would probably be why she didn't fight back against those bandits earlier. Her eyes shined as she asked him if she could be his companion, and he couldn't say no to the childish stick. With a slight smile he introduced himself to which she did the same. Sepia seemed nice, hopefully she wouldn't run into too much trouble.

Sepia couldn't believe it! The warrior was her friend and travelling companion! As they walked to Shamrock's house, she was on high alert. Maybe she didn't want to be jumped again, or maybe she was hyperactive, but nevertheless, she caught a flash of darkish pink in the corner of her eye. She whirled around and saw a panicked stick figure scrambling away from them - or rather - away from Shamrock. She nudged him and he too, turned to face the injured rogue.

She couldn't believe her bad luck as the green stick figure walked slowly her direction. She knew that he'd probably leave her even more mangled, or worse. The brown one that she attempted to rob was there as well- surely she would edge on her death. "What are you doing here, you filthy thief?", asked the green one. Cerise looked at him, shaking with fear, then looked away, ferociously. She heard him draw his sword. She waited for the blow that would surely happen. Except it never came. She glanced back up. The brown one was holding back the blade, shaking her head, then whispered something to the other. With a slight growl, the green one lowered his weapon as the brown stick figure beckoned to me. "Come with us," she offered, "and don't cause trouble. At least until your healed." Mercy was a thing Cerise has before and it backfired, although there was something about this duo... She accepted.

That folks, is how their journeys together began.

[keeponquinning]

Let’s take a peek at Dancing with the Ghost of You 👀🤍

Ask me to spoil my current WIPs / plot bunnies.

Okay! So, first off it's not an original idea, I'm sure I've seen version of this out there, so 100% claim this is not groundbreaking but an idea that popped in my head and scenes birthed themselves in my thoughts and as soon as that happens, it's over, I'm attempting it. Let me make up a little synopsis for it that I may end up using for when it's actually finished:

Steve Harrington was used to making a lot of promises, some for reassurance, some to give hope, in desperate times. Eddie Munson made him promise to make sure you were taken care of if things went bad. You made him promise to make sure Eddie would come back to you. He couldn't keep one promise, he was determined to keep the other. Which was good, as you found, grief was a bitch, never giving you peace, especially in your dreams, conflicting with your reality at every turn.

( Yeah, we're doing steve x grieving!reader, bc i want to give him a happy ending but not be easy about it. eddie x reader in flashbacks, each chapter I'm planning to have at least one of the relationship, my first dance of angst. I've written five paragraphs of it so far, to which, to the read more! )

Friday night. Not too dead, not too busy, not at the dive bar and grill you work at, anyway. It had its perks, though, you were still young, a year after high school. College didn't interest you, not for what you had planned for your future. That relied on the stage — oh, not that stage. No, no, not the one at your work, but it was a stage....technically. Which would hopefully lead to a better stage, bigger, brighter, better sound system that could play to a whole screaming crowd bigger than this place could hold. But, for now, it was your stage. When your manager deemed it dead enough for you to take it.

But now, you were behind the bar, doing half ass cocktails in a town that really asked for anything on tap. Watching a girl on your stage, lace gloves, dangling earrings and leg warmers, singing her little heart out... Completely mangling Madonna. Like A Virgin seemed appropriate. Inexperienced. Clumsy. Awkward. A huge sense of am I doing this right? You didn't even like Madonna that much but as you wiped down the counter, your eyes couldn't stay away from the stage as she was absolutely committing a crime. The worst thing? You absolutely remembered this girl from school, Tammy Thompson, the girl you were in choir with, that everyone was certain would scale the music charts.

"Yikes," someone else had said, a familiar voice, your eyes swiping toward him, alone on the bar stool. "Muppet. I swear. Just like a muppet."

Your lips quirked, the start of a snicker just about to be brought out. Wasn't wrong, and now that he said it, you couldn't not hear it. Perhaps it was mean, you more than anyone knew it took a lot to make it into music, and really, you didn't know much about Tammy's passion, if it matched yours or if she sang like any songbird did — simply because people said they should. But... God, the fact that she got a spot before you without having to tend bar first, seemed more than a little insulting. Still, you couldn't quite resist. "Are we thinking Kermit or Miss Piggy? I'm hoping Kermit, slander against Miss Piggy is something I can't let stand. Or Fozzie the Bear, I'm getting a feel more for Fozzie."

That got him, where you were kind enough not to snicker out right, he laughed, loudly. Your eyes flashing toward Tammy, at least glad she didn't seem to notice, her eyes closed and focused on the song, at least it reaching its end — though still a few more songs in her set. Your eyes flashing back to him, recognizing him of course, looking a bit different than his high school days, about the same time you graduated. He looked over at you with a smile, parting his lip to speak, but another spoke from the other side of you, snapping your attention away from him. "Pitcher of your finest, but definitely cheapest ice cold beer, please?"

[legions-tape]

@bastardstandard 'tomorrow when i wake up, i promise, i will be better.' ───────────────── ☆

Joey stared over at his leader.

Blinking away the tears he felt forming, Joey reached up to grab hold of the bandana he wore and tore it from his face, pulling down his hood in the process. He regretted it to say the least. Without the one thing keeping his face covered, he was exposed to someone he looked up, and Joey's expression was shown, and it was disappointment that was written all over his face. There was no disappointment for Frank, Julie, Susie, or anyone else but himself. They tended to say that Susie was the most sensitive one in their group, but half the time Joey was convinced it was himself that was the emotional one all along.

Letting out a noise of frustration, he tossed down the mask onto the couch as well as his own body. This couch was mangled, broken, worn down, a mixture of things Joey was also feeling. He had failed a trial, the survivors being the ones to escape, avoiding a painful death. But the price for that happening, was pain to his own body by The Entity; punishment that felt like it was dragged on for ages. The wounds never stayed, memories of it, however, did. He tried to keep silent, he didn't want to go venting out loud, but the more he held it in the more he felt like a damn about to break. He felt like a waterfall.

"I don't understand the point...the point of all this." Joey finally broke, speaking up, bouncing his right leg. A lot of things that happened here didn't seem to make a lot of sense, it was always best to not question anything, no true answers would be given anyway. "We get thrown into a trial, stab, kill, but what's the point? It's all some stupid cycle." He continued asking out loud, leaning his head back to rest against the head of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

˚ ̣ ̥☆━━ Hopefully this is a good starter for something between the two of us! If not, feel free to write something else up, or I can make another starter instead. Whichever is preferred, but hopefully you enjoy this one! I won't be offended if not!

I'll keep further admin notes out of posts from here on out!

(⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) Admin Ellie.

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

“This can’t be happening!” - Red War Cayde-6

//: Idk who keeps sending these little prompts but I like it ~ - Side note: if anyone plays any of the cannon characters mentioned in these asks feel free to reach out if you're interested in exploring what's mentioned in them. The way I write these is how I think they'd go according to Mar's lore and may not go this way if plotted and written with a mun who portrays these characters full time.

TW: Blood/Violance/Language/Gore - spoilers for Mar's Ram Lore?

"What, in the Neverending Story is that?!," the Hunter Vanguard huffed, ducking under an impromptu lean to when the roof of a near by building slid off and into the alley way he occupied. Holding his 'breath' the Exo peered through the cracks to watch the massive, serpentine shape glide over the City.

Blinking, rubbing his optics, he could have sworn he saw humanoid figures drop from it into the fray. With all the smoke and shelling, he couldn't be sure...

"Hopefully...that thing's friendly...," easing out from under the timbres and metal sheeting Cayde slunk down the narrow pathway, pausing when concrete dust rained down on him, watching as hulking Cabal lept from one destroyed floor to the next above him.

If he had teeth, he'd be grinding them.

For what seemed like hours he ducked, dodged and slipped his way through the streets, between buildings, through wreckage and veils of smoke. Sundance, his Ghost, tucked carefully against his chest, tied with cloth from one of the Tower's singed banners.

It wasn't that he was avoiding conflict, rather he was searching for and directing survivors back the way he came, to exit the City through a hole in the walls and into the slightly safer wilds and on the path to the Farm.

Stepping into a blown out shop, pausing when his boot found a particularly crunchy bit of glass, he had to shake his head and double take.

First the giant snake in the sky, now...this?

Gunfire, the sharp snap of a flash bang grenade, confused Cabal cries...a skirmish was unfolding in the intersection outside the shop and Cayde was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Not because of the tantalizing itch to join the fray but dread burbling up inside his chest.

"This can't be happening!", he cried, catching glimpses of the creature that so hassled the massive invaders.

"Shut up!," a voice hissed to his right.

Turning, staring in awe, he saw a group of at lease twelve civilians hunkered down in a shell hole shielded by a downed wall. A woman, smeared with soot, dirt and blood glared at the Hunter with wide eyed fear.

In her hands, was a mangled Ghost, the sight confirming the wraith he saw outside wasn't a hallucination but a hard fact...

"Got room for one more?," Cayde whispered, untying Sundance and crouching to hand them off to the woman. Her fear became shaded with relief as she realized who stood before them, "I'll be back, don't you all worry."

Winking he leapt the ruined window casement, hand-cannon drawn and leveled, firing on the first figure to backpedal from the chaos and into view, it wasn't clean but it meant one less opponent.

Stepping around the fallen Cabal, Cayde crouched, watching the Ram dance under another massive enemy's attempt to grab her, a flinch to his face plates when she circled the Cabal's elbow with her blade, nearly severing the lower half of their arm before catching them point blank in the abdomen with her own sidearm.

Emboldened by her ferocity Cayde sauntered into the thick of it, fighting his way to her side, the pair shifting, slashing, shooting and in her silence he taunted and joked.

When the last combatant fell, Mar stepped away from the Exo slowly, weapons bloodied and in hand but not raised or aimed at him, "...I, didn't think to run into one of you three down here..."

Shrugging, cracking a smile at her shaded words he watched her creep closer, "Well, someone has to clear the streets right?," his smile faded when she surged forward, bracing for that jagged seax of hers to bite into his chest, he had little time to register she wasn't attacking him.

Two shots fired, one from her, the second from the Cabal he'd shot in the back...

Without thinking Cayde grabbed the woman as she fell, firing a shot of his own to put the dying foe down for good, "No, no no no...", gathering Mardoll up he made a hasty break for the building and the refugees, scrambling back inside, "Can today get any fucking weirder...?"

"Sorry I asked....," light foot falls drew his attention as six, oddly attired Fallen rushed into the back of the shop, rifles drawn as the stalked towards the Vanguard and The Ram, "Woah, easy now...this isn't a good time to play..."

"We, are here to help...," one rasped as it stepped forward, four of the individuals took up watch on each wall while one took stock of the people.

Remembering Mar was practically in his lap Cayde fumbled to get a good look at her. Opening her armour he stared, confused as ceramic shards cling clanked out and onto the floor. Brushing the remaining chunks away he was surprisingly re-leaved there wasn't a gaping hole in her abdomen, some blood and bruising he was sure, but she was alive if not knocked down.

"We gotta move, she'll be alright and better if we can get her to the farm...Just, have to figure out how the fuck to explain all this to Ikora..."

[perahn]

Khem Tells A Story

There seemed to be no way out of Katy’s demand – at least, nothing that would not cause more difficulty later – and so Khemuret Xul wracked her brain. She could find, without difficulty, all the spells she had stored there, all of her dreams and memories, all of the facts she had taken such pains to learn, a good deal of history, and a vast quantity of stratagems, but could she find a story for the sorceress?

“A love story,” the half-elf elaborated further. “You know, star-crossed two people, or maybe more, who risk everything to be together, and there’s adventures and misunderstandings and maybe one of them thinks the other is dead but they’re not, then there’s a happy ending and they, you know, do it a lot.”

Of course. She should have guessed.

“Katy, I don’t think Khem wants to–“ Harper began.

“You must know lots of stories, Khem, you’re so smart. I bet you used to sit with your friends at wizard school and swap stories, right? Like ghost stories, everyone loves going ‘woooooooo’ in the middle of the night.”

“Wooooooo?” Shay repeated, presumably puzzled by this new addition to Katy’s vocabulary.

Khem just shook her head. There were so many things wrong with almost everything that came out of Katy’s mouth; sometimes the only thing to do was to give her what she wanted so that your head did not become too cluttered with her nonsense. “There is one story I could tell you. It’s not a love story, its ending is not entirely happy, but it fits most of the rest of your criteria.”

Katy nodded, her dark-smudged eyes growing wider.

Khem inwardly sighed, then looked over to the side of the fire where Jarnath sat - looking insufferably smug, as usual. One of the many people to whom she did not want to tell this story. “It will not be to your taste,” she warned him. “All the characters are female.”

The drow chuckled. “Oh, I think I can endure it. The sight of a Red Wizard telling bedtime stories should prove entertaining enough to make up for any narrative flaws. Besides, this is hardly likely to recur within my lifetime. It would be a shame to miss it.”

“As you will,” Khem said, and thought rapidly for a moment. How could she make this a little safer and easier to tell? “A final warning, then. I will tolerate two interruptions. No more.”

“Per person?” Katy asked.

“In total. If you want to hear all of the story, I suggest you exercise some self-control.”

“I can do that!” the sorceress said, beaming.

It was very unlikely that she would make it even to the middle. Khem closed her eyes, ordered her thoughts and memories, and began.

“There are many versions of this story,” she said, her words falling softly into the ring around the fire. “I believe every Red Wizard has their own, each a little different. Persuading one to tell you, of course, is another matter.” She shrugged, a little self-deprecatingly. “If I were speaking in Mulhorandi, I would tell you of two women, Reha and Nebastis. However, since Common is required, I will name them Ambition and Desire.”

Shay’s eyes met hers across the campfire. Her fellow Thayan knew perfectly well that while ‘Reha’ could be translated as ‘Ambition’ it was never used as a name, and conversely, that ‘Nebastis’ was indeed a name, but it did not mean ‘Desire’. The monk inclined her head slightly and said nothing, as Khem had known she would not. There were some matters in which Shay’s discretion was dependable.

“They had entered the Academy at the same time. Ambition specialised in Divination magic, wanting to uncover all the secrets of the world and use them to strengthen her position. Desire, however, favoured Illusion, so that she could make the world appear the way she wished it. As such, they had been at the Academy for several years before they really noticed each other.

“Both, you see, had chosen to position themselves in the eyes of their peers as quiet and reclusive, competent enough for occasional use, but not threatening enough to require removal. Ambition was very skilled at using this particular ploy to her advantage, and by the time she was fifteen, she had discreetly eliminated three students whom she considered dangerous. Desire, on the other hand, was more reactive in her politics; she had never been considered worth challenging, and she was content with that. Desire might, perhaps, have been the more intelligent of the two, but she was not as cunning as Ambition. She gave an answer, one day in a shared class, that made Ambition notice exactly what she was doing. And so Ambition chose to cultivate Desire, to draw her closer and into alliance.  

“Ambition… well, she was beautiful as all Thayans are, and of pure blood, naturally. But Desire was something more. She was…” Khem paused, tried to translate the phrases. She noticed that Jarnath was looking bored and supercilious, while Harper seemed poised to put his hand over Katy’s mouth and silence any potential interruptions. “She was like the Weave itself. She would lick her lips when she was thinking, and the room would fall quiet. I know no words in any language to describe the grace and precision of her hands, their long, slender fingers, how deft and sure they were in every movement. When she cast a spell, it was as though magic itself had been invented just as a backdrop for those hands. She was as near perfection as it is possible to imagine…or,” Khem added, in a slightly different tone, “so Ambition came to think.”

“These things took time, of course. Perhaps Desire was playing a passive stance, but she had nevertheless survived twelve years at the Academy; she was immediately suspicious of Ambition and her attempts to garner influence. But Ambition was patient and persistent, and so, eventually, the two became allies – in the Red Wizard fashion, which probably still resembles polite wariness to you outsiders. They would study together and occasionally share their insights. They would spend hours discussing the finer points of a spell. Desire requested that Ambition apply one of her scalp tattoos, and then returned the favour. Their alliance was noticed, as these things always are, and three students decided that eliminating Desire would prove a worthwhile blow to Ambition. Desire fought well, but she would have been slain if Ambition had not stepped in front of the Scorching Rays.”

“How… sentimental.” Much to Khem’s surprise, the first interruption came from the drow.

“Quite,” she agreed. “I did warn you the tale was unlikely to entertain you.”

“Does it count as an interruption if I ask something now?” Katy wondered.

Khem sighed. “I suppose not. And you just did.”

“What was that about the tattoos?”

Almost subconsciously, Khem rubbed a hand over her scalp. “It’s really quite basic, if you think for a moment. Attempting to tattoo one’s own head is unlikely to yield good results. The process is quite prolonged, and whether you choose to endure the pain or to make use of analgesia, you are certainly operating at a disadvantage while someone drills a needle into your head. For that reason, most students are tattooed by their instructors, who usually have no reason to harm them. Sometimes, however, there are exceptions. Someone who is overconfident might offer the task to a rival, hoping to provoke them into making a move.  Or, as in this tale, it might be done by an ally, to mark shared purpose and the balance of power.”

“You mean, as a gesture of trust.” Harper said.

“I really don’t,” Khem told him.

“Oh!” Katy nodded. “So, who did yours?”

“Mistress Kharzura,” Khem said, telling what was approximately seven-eighths of the truth. “One of the Divination instructors. Shall I continue with the story, or would you like to ask more irrelevant questions about my schooling?”

When nobody said anything more, Khem took a deep breath. “And so, late one night in the library, alone, invisible and nondetectable, and not long after Ambition had saved Desire’s life, Desire told Ambition two secrets. The first was that she wished for a time and place where they could be alone, and safe enough to… learn rather more of each other than they already knew. This was not… unanticipated. To tell the second secret, Desire leaned very close, so that her whisper was no more than warm breath against Ambition’s ear, and she said, “I trust you.”

Khem folded her hands tightly about each other, too much the Red Wizard to betray her discomfort with the words by any more obvious gesture. “As you can imagine, that is not something one hears often in a Red Wizard Academy, and the way Desire said it carried conviction. Ambition was struck silent for a time, and then she told Desire she would arrange some privacy for them.

“Desire understood very well that the words she had said to Ambition were not ones that she could say back to her – at least, not yet, and in her way she was quite as persistent as Ambition. She was willing to wait, and to see what would develop between them. So she smiled, and she kissed Ambition, and she left the matter there.

“Desire and Ambition were hardly the first Red Wizards who ever wanted some time together on neutral territory and free from interruptions; there are customary ways of arranging such trysts.” Khem looked around at her audience, and remembered – again – that possibly only the drow really understood what she meant. Well, that was not inconvenient; it would make it more like a story for them, and less like an inevitability. “So Ambition paid the doorkeeper, and notified Desire.

“When class had ended for the day, Ambition went straight to the room and made the usual sort of preparations. Desire met her there some hours later.” Khem let her eyes unfocus, staring at the cavern wall as though she could see the scene she described – partially to help her concentrate on what she was saying and what she was not, but mostly so she did not have to see whatever expressions her audience were wearing. “They were both Red Wizards, even when the red robes were discarded on the floor. They were, as I have said, patient, persistent, and adaptable. They possessed tongues agile in wrapping themselves around the intricate syllables of spellcasting, hands trained in delicate, precise gestures, and minds ever eager to learn. These assets may be turned to several uses – and were, before Desire was sated.”

There was a silence that mildly surprised Khem. She suppressed the urge to clear her throat. “Ambition looked down at Desire, asleep in her arms, and she thought. She remembered the tone in which Desire had spoken of her trust. She thought of Raelthi and Thazad – two legendary Red Wizards who had achieved extraordinary things, simply because they had trusted each other completely.

“But, then, Thazad had been slain defending Raelthi, and in her grief and fury, Raelthi had woken a volcano to bury them all. No. That did not appeal to Ambition at all.

“She thought of how quiet Desire had always been, and how clearly ill-suited for Red Wizard politics. If she were a sufficiently poor judge of character to trust Ambition, of all people, there was no way Desire would survive much longer at the Academy in any case. And perhaps it would be… kind. Desire had clearly tasted a happiness she had never expected. No other Red Wizard within the Academy walls would offer her anything but cruelty.

“That temptation, too, Ambition put aside. The one irrevocable mistake a Red Wizard can make is to start lying to herself. No. Ambition would act as Ambition always had, for Ambition’s sake and with a clear head.

“So as Desire lay smiling, Ambition did as she had intended to do from the first moment she had noticed the other Red Wizard. By the gentlest means in her power, Ambition slew Desire. She kissed the closed eyelids, rose, cleaned herself, dressed and went out into the Academy. There was so much more to do.”

“That’s so sad!” Katy exclaimed, then clapped her hand to her mouth.

“That’s the end,” Khem told her. “You need not fear to interrupt me.”

“Oh, well…” Katy went quiet.

The sorceress would flood her with questions soon, Khem was almost certain of it. Shay, on the other hand, would probably remain quiet. She knew Thay. Jarnath was chuckling – of course – and Harper… well, Khem wasn’t going to look at him to find out.

“Can I ask a question?”

It was mildly pleasant to be correct, even on an irritating subject. “As many as you like, Katy. However, I will only answer one.”

“In total?”

Well, she had exposed herself to an absurd degree by telling the sorry tale in the first place… “Per person.”

“Uh, Khem?” She looked over to see Shay with her journal open on her knee. “How exactly did Ambition kill Desire?”

The Long Death were not too interested in magic, despite their alliance with the Academy of Shifters and Seers; Khem doubted Shay would find the truthful answer satisfactory. “Cervical fracture, secondary to direct application of magic missiles to the vertebrae.”

“Huh,” Shay grunted, and began scribbling.

“So,” Katy said, “if Ambition was going to kill her girlfriend anyway, why save her from those other wizards? Was it about the sex? I bet it was about the sex.”

“Really?” Khem rubbed her eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh and glancing around the circle at the others. “Please tell me at least one of you understands this depressingly basic manoeuvre?”

Jarnath probably did, but he wasn’t saying anything, and the arrogant set of his features was no more informative than usual. Both Shay and Harper were shaking their heads.

“Katy. They were clearly identified as allies by that point. If you let your enemies kill your allies, your enemies conclude you’re weak. Nor will you be likely to contract another alliance, should you be interested in one. If, on the other hand, you kill an ally when they are no longer useful to you, you strengthen your position.” It was a ridiculously oversimplified way to explain the power dynamics involved, and she was not at all sure Katy understood it anyway. The sorceress was frowning to herself.

Khem sighed again. “I suppose you have a question as well, Jarnath?”

“Only one,” the drow said, his smirk widening. “Does telling this horribly crude little tale mark your intention to retrain as a bard?”

Khem thought, not for the first time, of how much she would enjoy killing him. “No.”

“Oh, that is a relief.” Jarnath yawned, an elaborately feline gesture of white teeth and curling tongue. “I would hate to see you throw away your adequate wizard career to become a mediocre bard.”

Adequate! Khem raised the corners of her mouth and bared her teeth in a grimace only the most careless would call a smile. “You need not add that to your stock of fears. I sing approximately as well as you sunbathe.”

“Indeed,” the drow said, and yawned again. “I believe I require something more entertaining before bed, or else I shall have the most dreary nightmares.”

“Oh, I have just the thing!” Katy picked up her cue immediately, and began digging in her bag for another of the trashy romance stories she had started lending to their guide. As she started extolling the plot – something about pirates and a runaway prince – Harper approached Khem.

“I suppose you have a question,” she said, resigned.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, and made himself comfortable beside her in a leisurely fashion, before leaning in and lowering his voice. “So, which of your tattoos did Neb- uh - Nestabis do?”

The angular pattern repeated – rather unconventionally – along her cervical, thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. The memory of those long, painful, candlelit hours flashed across her mind, surfacing only as a superior smile.

“Nebastis,” Khem corrected him, rolling her eyes. “Or Desire – I translated for a reason. The answer, of course, is none. You mustn’t read too deeply into allegories, Harper. Do I truly seem like someone who would allow desire that much power over me?” She bit her tongue on if so, please establish exactly which organ does your thinking for you.

“Well, you didn’t before you told that story.”

[hoaxsen]

| angst has been coming to me easy now and idk how to feel about that.

| tw; character death, in depth talk of death, mentions of blood and other gruesome parts, season three spoilers.

| word count; 1.8k.

It was all over, spreading like a plague inside the walls upon their arrival. The victory of Wall Maria, along with the near extinction of the Scouts. How many supplies were lost during it? How much destruction was there while it all went down? Does anyone have a true number on how many bodies were being carried back on those flatbed carts after that expedition? 

They were mostly parts of bloodied and mangled things, some weren't even able to be called a body. More like a massive piles of mixed dirt, debris and whatever part of the human body there could be. One hundred and ninety nine people, turned into one enormous jigsaw puzzle that anyone has ever seen. How many carts were used for that, and which cart did this specific body rest upon? 

This body held the features of bright blue eyes, that the captain of the Scouts could sometimes find himself staring into for hours on end. Unknowingly at that. Blonde hair just swept back and kept so neat with its undercut. Sometimes Levi wonders if it was soft to the touch, it doesn't look to be hard, or dirty. Just right, minus those brows. If anything there were times where Levi wanted to trim the blonde bricks of hair off Erwin's face himself. 

Now, days like that will never come. For the sole purpose, of Erwin Smith being deceased. Giving his life up to his stupid cause and dream, this isn't what Levi meant by plundering your dream and lead those crying brats to hell. Was it selfish of him to think that Erwin might come back alive for him? It was, wasn't it? The man having to live through this shit as the leader, making gambles that no one knew how the hell they paid off. Let's not forget about the cadets and soldiers lost along the way in his gambles. A devil among men, though it was Levi wanting to be the one to raise hell right now. Bring a darker hell to the one on this very Earth for the fact that he chose to revive Armin instead of Humanity's Hope. 

Cold, and hardened steel grey hues watched as his body was pulled away, riding alongside on his own horse with this cart. Levi felt only himself at fault, what if he did revive Erwin? Despite the small specks of rocks, falling out and shredded intestines, and lack of life in the blonde's eyes, how would he look taking on the power of the colossal titan? Would he have looked the same as the treacherous Bertholdt, or better? If anything, he'd be alive right now. . .fighting a war once more in this hell. Yes, it was selfish, but Levi Ackerman had his reasons to be selfish in a time like this. Bringing back Erwin instead of Armin wasn't just going to be for humanity, it was also going to be for his own desires. To stop toying with the feelings the ravenette has for the blonde, to stop the daily lies about his ' small crush ' being just a phase. 

The captain never even got to make good on his promise before the commander passed. Wanting so hard and bad to end the Beast Titan, to make him feel the pain Erwin did before his final moments. Hopefully that chance comes back for him some other time. How badly Levi needs it, it'd only be fitting since Erwin gave up his dream for the wall retake to even have happened and succeed. 

For all Levi could do now, was regret and hope that Erwin's funeral would bring him into a small state of piece. Since the ex-commander was already in a permanent state of his own, never to be disturbed. The Ackerman slowly starts to wonder to himself, which kind of suit would really bring out a dead man's eyes? For blue, it had to be a subtle white, right? An ashen grey? Whatever color it was going to be, Levi knew he'd detest it. Knowing it'll be the final suit he sees Erwin in. 

Fast forward a bit to the lowering of the old Scouts' commander into the ground, Levi stayed behind a little ways after the ceremony. Standing before Erwin's grave, a short sigh leaving him as he placed a hand on Erwin's tombstone. 

Erwin Smith 

xxxx - xxxx 

Humanity's Beacon of Hope.

The words Levi read over, and over, and over again. Humanity's Hope, snuffed out a little ways too soon. Levi just had to wake up and face the music, it was bound to happen one day or another. He just wishes that day came a little later than this. Brushing his hand over the words, better now to say this before he keeps it inside for too long. He already regrets not saying this to him when he was alive. 

" How many of these have we attended for our fallen? Now look at you, dumbass. Right there with them, tell Petra I said hi when you see her. " 

His last chance to say this all know, because whatever God out there knows that Levi wouldn't visit Erwin's grave again after this. For the small grudge he'd hold against himself for using the syringe on Armin. 

" I followed you into the fire, made it out with a few scrapes. Though you were burned, still had the guts to carry on more bravely than me. . .even make a choice with that odd line. ' What if there is humanity outside the walls. ' Or some shit like that, and then I realized, and knew. . .that was how you were plundering your dreams and leading those crying brats to hell. " 

Unbeknownst to the captain, he wasn't alone. Just standing from afar, was another grieving heart. Armin Artlet, another soul wanting to say an unspoken peace to their old commander. But ended up seeing Levi there before him. 

" It's not fair you know, Erwin. Or that just might be me being selfish right now, yeah sounds like it. A biased opinion, since I fucking loved you and didn't have the guts to say it. Wanna know why? Cause I'm a coward. Since people I love keep leaving me in ways like this, death. Am I that detestable that death is the only way out? Gotta be, shitty way to go if you ask me, but probably your only way. Call it a curse, I guess. Sadly shit like this happens in the fucked world. I didn't even want to use it on Artlet, but you made your choice. So I had to make mine, fucking bastard. " 

Now that was a surprise to the little eavesdropper in the back, covering his mouth with his hand to not make a sound. Azure eyes bugging out of his head as the captain droned on. Armin himself wasn't even sure why he was saved, wouldn't Erwin have been a better pick? The power of the titan wasted on him, that's how it sounded. On the bright side, the colossal titan was in their arsenal with Eren's titan. Just with the wrong user in Artlet's mind. 

" It's not fair, you asshole. You get your peace, and leave me behind in this hell with a bunch of brats! Yes, they can pull their own weight. But you're not leading them anymore, instead it's gonna be someone else who can't live up to your name. All because I got emotional and saved that runt, when I knew, even with Hanji, that you were the better pick! A massive fuck up on my end, but then a small lived victory right? We have another titan ready to fight for us when needed. But I want you here! It's not fair, you trusted me to do the right thing with that weird liquid, and I don't know if I did! I promised myself that I'd follow you wherever, why did you have to go somewhere I can't go yet?! You and your stupid gambles, well make one with the devil down there and win, come back goddamn it! " 

At this point, Levi was screaming to a grave on the verge of tears. From standing to dropping on his knees, the turned up dirt from a freshly dug hole in the ground was staining his pants. Giving him the feelings of touching the underground floors, though this time he didn't care. Fighting back an attack of tears, his hands digging into the soil and gripping it. Dirt being trapped in his fingernails, a fierce look on his face with a few stray falling tears from his eyes. 

" I promise you, I'll make that sonva bitch pay. Along with aiding in to see that your final goal, your final dream is fulfilled. Even if I have to  die to make that happen. " 

It was a footstep, and the use of sharp senses that brought Levi out of his moment. Spinning around quick as could be, just to be met with a crying, tear stained face of one of his cadets. This was Levi's moment of vulnerability, being seen by Armin as if privacy wasn't a thing. Though now, the man couldn't hold it against the boy, dusting off himself to be free of the dirt and grime. Levi sent Armin a small glare, no words have been spoken yet, and not one really knew what to say. 

" Captain . . . I'm sorry, but you should have us--. " 

" Can it brat, I dunno how much you heard, and I hate repeating myself. But I'll make an exception, Erwin made his choice. I acted on it, now you might have to step up to bat. " 

Levi's words drew a small gasp from Armin, making him want to roll his eyes. 

" No one can live up to be Erwin, but I trust that you know what you're doing. Don't make me regret saving you now. " 

" Y-Yes sir! But can I ask a question? " 

That made a brow raise on Levi's face, a sign for Armin to carry on with what he was saying. The boy had to take a deep breath to even get the first word out. It almost made Levi scoff at a time like this. 

" Y-You l-love Commander Erwin, sir? Is-Is that true? " 

The stuttering fool really had the balls to ask. The captain almost looked impressed, but at the same time angered somewhat. 

" Yeah, I loved him, Artlet. A main factor playing on in why I wanted to use the syringe on him. But something happened during it, like I said. Don't make me regret it. " 

All he got was a frantic nod from the other blonde, even a salute for some reason. Levi responded with his own nod back, figuring now that his time alone with Erwin was up. Looking behind him at that grave, he sighed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. 

' Don't worry, Erwin. You won't be along for long, I said I'd follow you right? Into that same fire I'll soon be going. ' 

He whispered out, making his way to leave now. Going as far as to pat a startled Armin on the shoulder. His own line echoing inside his head to help cope with this, just tweaked a bit this time. 

' Plunder all your dreams, and lead those crying brats to victory. In his name. ' 

[herstarburststories]

Paint it red (Dick Grayson x Reader)

✾ @riseofnightwing's request: dick sees his darkside again (just like with robin) after the vilain almost kill the reader. gar or rachel tries to tell him she's gonna be fine a so he can stop punching the villain, but his dark side don't allow him to because she's what matters the most to him, love of his life and she tried to protect him in this mission, that's why the villain got her.

✾ A/N: Hope you like it! I don't know how I feel about this one yet, so feel free to ask me to change it if you didn't enjoy.

✾ Disclaimer: violence, but I really don't find it very graphic. also, an unhealthy superhero behavior (smh Batman legacy).

Ever since his parents were killed in front of his eyes, there was so much anger inside of Dick Grayson. It left the last flying Grayson with nothing but empty hands trying to hold on to something that had already left. He found a sick sense of relief in brutality, even though he was disgusted by his own acts sometimes. Wearing a cape and calling it justice didn't change what Bruce would never admit; everything Batman and Robin were was just an echo of their deepest unsolved dilemmas.

He was willing to control himself. Dick had been trying to do that even before he'd met you, Kory, Rachel, and Gar. At some point, it became easier; especially with his Nightwing persona coming up. Things seemed to be slowly finding their spaces to fit in, but tonight, it all blew up. It was worse than anyone there would expect.

The punches didn't stop after the man in Dick's hands passed out. His knuckles were drowning in blood and bruised from so many hits, while the other hand remained holding the guy's shirt; white fingertips pressed against each other so hard that would concern any doctor about his bloodstream. The circus boy couldn't stop himself. He needed to protect you. He had to protect you. He would always protect you. No one in his life could go again. Not you. Not because of him.

"Dick," Kory said with authority obvious in her voice. She wasn't well-acquainted with the earthlings' necessity of hiding during battles yet. Made up name or birth one, after all, didn't seem to matter. Grayson looked like a painter, too immersed in painting his masterpiece to care about what happened around him. He just needed to keep getting red paint to finish his art. "Dick, stop!"

"Nightwing, he already passed out," Gar tried, his voice hesitant, almost trembling as he glared at his leader punching an unconscious man. He had never seen Dick this mad. "Dude..."

"Please stop!" Now it was Rachel. She was still too inexperienced to try stopping Grayson with her powers. The risk of hurting him was not worth being taken. Still, he kept his mission to hurt. Dick didn't seem to hear anyone, and he in fact didn't. From his perspective, anything outside his unilateral fight was just a noise, like an old television. "Kory!"

"Dick, enough," the Tamaranean said again, walking close to him and holding his hand before he could mangle the man's face more. Finally he seemed to come back earth. Breathlessly, he glanced at Kory. "Let him go."

Grayson placed his eyes on the man, fury filling his bones again, almost pushing him forward once more. Yet Kory's hand wrapped around his wrist somehow brought him back into reality, and in reality, Rachel and Gar's innocent eyes were wide and full of horror. God, he felt like a monster.

He looked at the floor, blood spread over the wet floor, mixed with sweat and water. Water. . . Was it raining? Fuck.

"Dick, you are crying." Rachel's voice was soft, careful even. Kory let go of his arm, and Dick looked at them in confusion. Crying? He wiped away his tears, ashamed of his small collapse. At least (Y/N) hadn't seen how violent he was capable of being. You had joined the team before he became Nightwing-- you didn't know how angry he could get. Of course, he had told you about his past, but Dick was scared seeing it was too much. Rachel and Gar's gaze on him had already changed, and they had seen him like this before. "Dick? Are you okay?"

(Y/N). He needed to see her now. Without any further warming, he just walked away from the Titans, quick footsteps towards the car. Dick needed to check if you were okay. You needed to be okay. He couldn't lose you. Oh God, not you.

"(Y/N)!" he exclaimed, opening the car door to see you, all curled up and aware. You were safe. That man would never dare to touch you again.

"Hey, you. Seems like I saved your ass, damsel in distress." You offered him a playful smirk, like you usually did to tease him. "Can you believe that idiot got me from behind while I kicked his partner? From behind! Be decent and actually fight me if you want to kill me next time."

"Don't joke about that, babe." His words were gentle, and then his arms were wrapped around you. The flashes of seeing you falling on the floor with your head bleeding and not opening your eyes were slowly replaced by the smell of your shampoo, which took him back to long, comfortable bathtub moments with you. You were in his life, you were alive, and you were held by him. You were even making sarcastic comments and obviously annoyed by your aggressor's cowardice. You were okay. "I was so scared of losing you."

Your annoyed moan interrupted him. "Dick, I think I broke my arm. Can you--"

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry." Dick pulled away from you but remained close. "Is your head all right? Which arm is hurting?"

Kory sighed, watching the scene. As happy as she was for you and Grayson, his behavior was still worrying. It's been long since Dick showed his buried violence. On Tamaran, that wouldn't be a problem; they were raised was warriors and fought combatants as such. Still, earth was different, and Dick had already told her about his uncontrollable anger.

"We need to help him," Rachel said, catching the alien's attention. "I don't think (Y/N) saw what happened, but she could help, too."

"Maybe we should call a therapist." The two females looked at Gar with eyebrows raised. That was obviously the right option, but which health professional would understand a superhero's problem? Even if they did, the trouble with secret names was still there. "What? It helps. He could go as Nightwing or Dick and replace the hero stuff with detective stuff. I don't know."

"Yeah, we will see about that," Kory replied, a smile on her lips as she glanced at the car again. You were now calling them to come close.

"I will always protect you, okay?" The Titans could hear Dick saying that as they stepped in your direction. You replied to your boyfriend with a smile, pecking his lips briefly.

"I know that, but I think I protected you tonight, circus boy."

Hopefully, Kory thought, you would help him too. After all, if there was an interesting concept that humans have, it is the 'love of life'. You were the love of Dick's life, if someone could help him, that would be you.

[gigekitanzan]

"There's nothing wrong with me being gay. There's nothing wrong with me liking men. There's nothing wrong with me being a trans man and liking men. I am not a confused straight girl. There's nothing wrong with liking men, especially not me, or people like me, liking men." Gordie's repeating to himself, as if trying to psych himself up for something. "There's nothing... wrong... with me liking men."

He buries his face in his hands. "Why does it feel like there is!?"

Maybe he can tell another Gym Leader first-- or Sascha, she doesn't know yet-- someone he knows, and trusts-- not Melony, not yet-- he has to tell someone.

It's been eating him up for years. He has to. Not because he feels comfortable doing so-- that's still a far shot, he's afraid information will get around so easily-- but somebody he trusts not to tell has to know. He can't stay silent anymore.

"Rotom, call Sascha." Gordie drops his hands away from his face, watching as Rotom slips out of his pocket.

"You zzzure? You zzzzound strezzed."

"Stressed or not... someone needs to know. Sascha's going to be the first one." Gordie has a steely gaze as he looks at Rotom. "Call Sascha. Or-- just tell her to come over, actually. It'll be easier if she comes over."

"Alright big man, you've got it."

He’s waiting for a good fifteen, twenty minutes maybe. It honestly feels like forever, time moving slower than he’s ever felt before, and with each passing second, Gordie wonders if perhaps he’s made the wrong choice. If he shouldn’t tell Sascha anything-- if maybe, he should have just stayed quiet, and repressed it for another few years.

But… no. It’s been far too long, anyway. If he doesn’t do it now, he’ll just feel worse.

Then again, he feels atrocious right now.

Sascha doesn't even knock on the door-- they already have an agreement that she shouldn't, since if people tend to see Gordie, they'll pass on where he lives to the rest of his fans. She sits silently across from Gordie, leant back on the sofa, yet legs still crossed, as if trying to let go of Melony’s strict house rules. Don’t slouch. Crossing your legs is polite. Always try and show your face to whoever you’re talking to.

The direct opposite of Gordie, at this moment. He’s slouched across the chair he’s on, one hand covering half his face-- mouth included-- trying to avoid eye contact with Sascha. He feels like he can’t even speak, now. Everything’s lost in his head, caught up in desperate “what if’s” and “if only’s”, so far away from what he wants to say. It’ll be a miracle if he even manages to break the silence, and Sascha’s just… patiently waiting for him to.

There’s a solid minute of Gordie just groaning to himself, wishing now that he hadn’t even tried it, that it was just going to end terrible, that Sascha would tell mum and she’d be mad--

I have to let someone know. I have to tell someone--

Gordie looks across to Sascha, hand still firmly placed on his own face, to prevent her from seeing how plain terrified he is to admit this.

“Sasch--” He begins, and again, words fall flat on his tongue. “I-- I gotta tell you something, uh, important.”

“Important… how?”

“Important as in you can’t tell anyone else important!” Gordie snaps out, and Sascha doesn’t even flinch.

“Ah, that kind of secret.” She leans forward in the seat-- reminiscent of Melony, and the way she always seems to look that little bit closer when something’s interesting.

It strikes Gordie the wrong way, but he’s too far gone to even think hard about it.

“I’m-- I--”

Why now? Why can’t I say anything?

Again, Sascha’s silent, watching Gordie with a gaze nowhere near scrutinizing, but the intensity makes his skin crawl. It’s a long, long pause, where he tries to find the right words, fails to, and quietly curses himself once again for bothering.

“Sasch, I’m-- gay.”

There seems to be a pause from her, too. Taking in what Gordie had said, thinking just a little on the implications-- before she nods softly.

“I’m… glad you felt comfortable coming out to me.”

“Comfortable? Sasch, I literally wish I hadn’t said anything.”

“But you did say something, and that’s a start.”

Gordie looks at Sascha almost incredulously. “Huh?”

“I know you hate each other’s guts, but mum always says that coming out’s a personal decision. You come out to whoever you feel comfortable comin’ out to.”

“Mum says what now?”

Sascha visibly lurches. “She-- she hasn’t said that to you? At all?”

“No?!” Gordie pauses a few deafeningly quiet seconds. “Mum’s actually bi?!”

“You thought we were joking about her and Glacia for the fuckin’ giggles of it?”

Gordie looks at the floor, blinking owlishly. All this time, he’d been thinking they’d been making the joke simply because it was… well, almost obvious that Melony had some feelings for Glacia, but he hadn't even thought about the implications of that. 

At Gordie's silence, Sascha speaks again. "Gordie, you are having a laugh, right?" 

"I-- well, I-- it didn't… I wasn't…"

"No way. There is no way you're not joking. My big brother is not thick--" 

"I didn't think about it, okay?!" Gordie's loud, and defensive, as if it'll help him at all. 

At the admittance, however, Sascha's expression seems to change. "Gordie… how long have you been holding onto this?" She leans forward a little further, and Gordie lets his face sink further into his hands. 

"...ten years." It's mumbled out, and he's hopeful she didn't hear it at all. It sounds stupid, at this point-- not even noticing that mum really was bi, or that Leon and Raihan were most definitely together or… anything. He'd been so caught up in everything that had happened that he barely even thought about it. 

How couldn't he have figured it out? He'd watched Leon kiss Raihan, mum had very obviously been flirting with Glacia-- and that time with Milo when we were play-wrestling, and I got him in that triangle choke-- and that's not even getting on the fact that he knows Nessa's dating Sonia, and the fact that Opal already seemed to know from his Gym Challenger days, and he really doubts she'd be unhappy with it, considering her rambling on about the people she's been with before was what made Gordie realize that he really wasn't straight, even if most of that realization came from the fact he couldn't stop thinking about Milo when they were travelling together. 

God, why was it all falling into place now? 

"You need some time for yourself, big G?" 

"N-- uh, no, I, uh…" Gordie mangles his words worse than when Nessa had caught him staring at Milo's ass. "So, uh-- I… how would you… go about telling a good, uh, six-hundred fans maybe, that you're gay, and if they fetishise you, you're gonna like, crush their head like a can of fizzy?" 

Sascha frowns. "Oh god, is that what kept you from saying anything?" 

"Of course it is, Sasch. I've had enough of getting picked on, I didn't… wanna lose my whole fanclub if I came out." Gordie sits up and slumps over, looking down at the floor once again. "I'm still worried. D'you think they'll hate me? D'you think they'll be disgusting about it?" 

"Gordie, I don't wanna discourage you any. You don't have to come out all at once--" 

"The media, Sasch. I don't want them knowing until Galar's Major League does, and my fanclub does." God, it makes him shudder to think about; the media already twists the words of everyone in the major league, how bad could it get? What would they say, or do, or make everyone think? "I get what you're saying, but… I have to."

"Start small. Text a few close friends, or call them-- let your Gym Trainers know, they're part of your fanclub, right?-- if you've got a way to contact a large, or small, group of your closest fans, message them."

"Sasch, why are you so damn good at this? Makin' me feel bloody stupid."

"Comes with having to live with mum for years. She's nice and all, but I guess her strictness and… well, the way she thinks, starts getting to you."

"You've no idea how much this means to me, Sascha." Gordie shakes his head slowly-- he's close to crying, really, considering all the things he expected to go wrong haven't gone wrong. "I'll uh, get on messaging my trainers, and…" 

"You want to tell mum?" Sascha's voice makes him pause. He'd been thinking about it-- if she was accepting of him being trans, why not gay, too? And she was bi-- so why would it be a big deal, to him? 

Because of the argument. They hadn't really been able to maintain a conversation since-- Gordie too overcome with rage, or something of the like, preventing himself from even wanting to stick around and talk with Melony.

But, she's his mother. He can't hide from the fact he wants to talk to her forever. 

"I'll tell her. Tonight, probably. I'll come over and… hopefully I won't lose my cool."

Sascha nods softly. "You got it, Gords. I'm sure the triplets'd love to see you."

"Ha… if you're sure." There's a small pause. "Anyway, since you've been putting up with me for the last… half an hour? How about we go to Bob's?" 

"Sure, just don't shove everything under the rug about what you're planning, alright? Don't want you to forget to tell everyone."

"I won't forget, Sasch. No chance of it."