#it’s EVIL. why am i paying twice as much for worse hair????

[fingertipsmp3]

Tbh I also think if your expensive shampoo makes my hair worse I should be allowed to kill you with a rock

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 9

A fire burned through Seina's chest as the bullet pierced straight through her body. Her opponent continued to fire, sending more shots through her chest. Every breath was agony, barely able to breathe. She pulled out her pendant, hoping she wasn't too late.

Through blood-soaked lips, Seina croaked out her transformation chant. "Change... Change...," she gasped through punctured lungs, "Magical... Love Dress... Up..." Light engulfed her, changing her into her magical girl form. Much to Seina's relief, the pain vanished, though it left her a little tired.

"What?" The vampire thug, Jentin, gaped in surprise. "You're alive? But she shot you through the heart, twice! How are you still standing?!"

"She's a magical girl, obviously," Takako said, bored. "It takes more than that to kill one of us."

"But, I." Panic filled Jentin's features for a moment before turning  back to confidence. "Nevermind. We still have a magic girl on our side! We'll just cut her to pieces."

"Maeko is a magical girl?" Aiko asked, surprised. "What's going on?"

From the shadows, a female vampire appeared, wearing a smug expression on her face. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar. "That's right, Seina. We have duped you. We sent her to train with you in order to learn your every weakness." She gave a cruel laugh. "Don't you remember? Love, friendship and affection are weaknesses. Your naivete will be your death, Seina!"

Seina's face twisted into a scowl. How had she allowed Takako to foolishly trick her? As usual, the vampires corrupted everything good in the world to hurt her. Just like her parents.

"Kick her butt, Seina!" Colten said, fuming. "I know magical girls are evil, but betraying you like that is a low even for her kind!!"

Takako snorted. "I'll do whatever it takes to beat you. You are my hated enemy, after all."

"You!" Being told that Takako hated her hurt more than Seina had expected. She'd really believed they'd been friends. Unexpectedly, it brought tears to her eyes. She rubbed them away and directed her anger towards the girl that had fooled her. Seina would enjoy punching her stupid face in.

"Understand this, Seina, it's my job to dispatch rogue magical girls, and that's what I'm going to do." Takako pointed her pistols towards Seina's heart. "I'm not playing around this time. Let me show you what I've learned since our last battle."

"Yes! Kill her!" The female vampire said. "Today, you pay for every humiliation you made me suffer through!"

Seina blinked. "Sorry?" Did she know this woman? Before she could inquire any further, Takako unleashed her bullets onto Seina. Like last time, the shots flew wide. Had the girl not learned anything from their last encounter? Her body jerked as something started pressing on her with crushing force, and Seina found herself unable to move.

"Each of those bullets creates a gravitational force with the strength of a black hole," Takako said, smirking. "That should make this easy."

"Shinobu, now!" The vampire woman said, and a middle-aged man appeared from the manga shop. Much to Siena's surprise, the shop vanished to reveal an empty building. He extended a hand, and Seina gasped as blackness engulfed her vision.

"Where am I? What's going on?" With some effort, Seina moved her head around, trying to understand what was happening. She froze as a strange gurgling sound echoed in the distance, sending a chill down her spine. Her heart almost beat out of her chest as a strange white figure with pale skin and stringy black hair wrapped around her body, screaming as centipedes emerged from their mouth, crawling all over her.

---

"We did it!" An almost hysterical laugh escaped Lilha's lips. "We did it!"

They watched as Seina stood petrified, twisting and turning, eyes widened in fear. Sweat dripped down Shinobu's head as he forced Seina to see her worst fears realized. With her gravity bullets in place Takako doubted her rival could escape easily. Still, they couldn't waste his opportunity. It couldn't hold Seina forever. Trapped or not, she was a formidable opponent. She'd break the illusion eventually.

"Seina!" Colten tried flying to his partner's aid, but Aiko stopped the fairy before he could attempt anything foolish. A scowl appeared on Mr. Kiyojiro as he watched, helpless to do anything to rescue his charge.

"Easy. Let's finish this. Let me show you my power." Jentin hefted his axe, a wide smirk on his face. His muscles bulged grotesquely, growing in bulk and volume.

"Yeah, get her boss!" Jentin's buddies said, cheering him on.

 "My power allows me to increase my natural strength a billion times! You don't have your speed to save you now!" The vampiric brute swung his enormous axe towards Seina's exposed neck. Its head, unsurprisingly, snapped off, not even leaving a scratch on the magical girl's neck.

Takako rolled her eyes. "A billion times zero is still zero." Why did they need these jokers again?

"Eh?" Seina blinked, confused. She took a step forward and collapsed over as Kiyojiro inflicted even worse fears upon her mind.

"You idiot!" A vein appeared on Lilha's forehead. "You almost broke the spell!"

"Sorry." The big vampire wilted under his queen's glare.

"Takako, finish her quickly." Lilha said. "I don't want her escaping. You, hold the girl's friends hostage. If she escapes, I want some insurance."

Takako's eyes widened as Jentin appeared behind Aiko and grabbed her arm hard, making the tiny girl howl in pain.

"Oops, did I break your arm?" Jentin gave a cruel laugh. "Too bad."

"Aiko!" Colten said, trying to pull the brute away. The vampire only gave a contemptuous snort and slapped him away. Mr. Kiyojiro ran to the fairy's side, glaring at the perpetrator. He cursed, helpless to do anything.

"What are you doing?" Takako seethed beyond furious. "This wasn't the plan. Leave her alone." The brute stepped away, giving his queen a nervous glance.

"Why do you care?" Lilha asked. "Besides, it's necessary if we are to kill Seina. Don't get soft on me. Do your duty as a magical girl."

Takako hesitated, looking towards Aiko as she gritted her teeth against the pain. What was she doing? Lilha was right. She was a magical girl. The life of a measly mortal girl shouldn't matter a toss to her.

"Yeah, do your duty!" Jentin said, taking pleasure as he squeezed Aiko's arm tighter, causing more screams of pain.

It'd be so easy to pull her pistols and blast Seina with them, but Takako found her limbs powerless to move. She watched as her rival squirmed in fear and pain, an ugly pit forming in her stomach. Takako had wanted to defeat Seina the entire time she'd known the girl. Why did it feel so ugly and horrible now?

"Takako, please," Aiko said through clenched teeth. "Don't do this."

"Seina, please! Wake up!" Tears were in Colten's eyes. Mr. Kiyojiro looked at Seina with an intense fearful worry. Takako knew if Seina died, it would break the rough man's heart.

"Do it," Lilha said, impatiently. "Kill her already."

After a moment's further hesitation, Takako made a decision. "I will." She summoned her white pistol and pointed towards her target and fired. Seina's body collapsed to the ground as Takako released the gravity holding her.

The magical girl blinked for several moments and looked at her hands, momentarily confused. "Huh, what happened?"

"What?" Shinobu touched his chest and blinked as he saw blood on his hand.

"I'm reuniting you with your son," Takako said. "I can't bring the dead back to life, sorry." Shinobu released a strangled croak, but it sounded relieved, almost happy. The vampire collapsed, dead.

"What are you doing?" Lilha asked, both fearful and outraged.

"Winning my way." Takako pointed her black pistol and blew Jentin's head off. The giant collapsed, and Aiko pulled herself away from his grip.

"Are you okay?!" Colten said, flying towards the girl, grasping her in a tight hug.

"I'm fine." Tears were in Aiko's eyes.

"Healing shot." Takako fired a bullet into the girl's chest, repairing her broken arm. Aiko gave her healed arm an experimental swing and gave Takako a grateful nod. Seina watched this entire exchange, completely confused.

"This isn't over, Seina," Takako said. "I still intend to defeat you. But, I'm winning through my own strength."

"You traitor! I won't forget this!" Lilha spat and ran off into a nearby alley. Her useless goons followed suit, also promising vengeance.

Seina continued to study Takako, still confused. "So, you're not working with the vampires any more?"

"No." Takako put her hands on her hips. "I fight dirty, but not that dirty. I have standards for my evilness. Stop wasting my time and fight me already. I'm eager to show you what I've learned since we started training together."

Seina nodded. "Okay. I don't understand you at all, but I'm relieved you saved Aiko. Thank you."

"Whatever." Takako rolled her eyes, but a slight smile appeared on her lips.

Seina summoned her staff. "Let's do this."

With blinding speed, Seina rushed towards her. But Takako was ready, shooting gravity bullets in front of her. Her opponent darted away, but still got caught in the edge of their pull, grinding her almost to a halt.

"You're strong, but can you take this?" Takako fired her next barrage of bullets. They flew past Seina's head. Aiming with two guns proved more difficult than it looked, so Takako chose a different strategy. The bullets exploded, shooting an array of magical beams that fired in random directions.

Seina broke past the gravity well and weaved around the beams, but they proved too numerous to dodge all of them, she flinched as one slashed across her chest. Takako continued her barrage, leaping high into the air and firing down towards her opponent. Beams rained down upon Seina from the exploding bullets while she summoned more gravity wells to impede her opponent's movement. Seina's body moved in slow motion as a black hole bullet struck her in the chest, leaving her exposed.

Takako continued to fire into Seina's chest, her bullets unaffected by the intense gravity. Her opponent staggered as the bullets struck her, yet Seina proved resilient. Making her shots immune to gravity made them less powerful and effective, but they were doing damage.

She's so tough. A flicker of doubt struck the back of Takako's mind. She could do this forever, but Seina refused to surrender.

Through sheer brute force, her opponent started to break past the gravity restraining her. She used her staff to deflect the bullets and lasers shooting towards her. In one final push, Seina had broken free of the gravity well. While Takako was quick, she needed to switch between summoning gravity wells and attacking, leaving gaps in her attack. Sweat glistened down Seina's head as she reentered normal space.

Takako cursed, keeping her distance. If Seina entered close quarters, Takako knew she was in trouble. Seina ducked and weaved as countless beams shot around her, focusing on confronting Takako head-on. In a blink, she was beside her opponent, staff raised to strike. With a flick of her hand, Takako aimed her black pistol towards her own chest and fired  just as Seina's staff impacted on her chest. A grunt of pain escaped Takako's lips, but she remained on her feet.

"You can make your body tougher, too?" Seina's eyes widened in amazement.

Through clenched teeth, Takako grinned. "There's nothing my bullets can't do." She fired on herself again, giving herself a blinding increase in speed, moving faster than even Seina could see. Her white pistol fired upon Seana, striking her against the chest, staggering her. With her full power, Takako's bullets could actually injure her opponent. Blood trickled down Seina's lips, but she rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

Despite her opponent running circles around her, Seina smiled. "You've really gotten much stronger. Your abilities are amazing, Takako."

Takako beamed, placing her white pistol against her shoulder. "As I said, I'm unbeatable. How about you surrender already?"

"Not a chance." Seina's smile disappeared, subtle anger blazing in her eyes. "Too much is at stake. I can't allow your ilk to harm my world and the people I care about."

"Even though you saved Aiko, I'm still not going to forgive you, Takako," Seina said. "How many people have suffered because of your cowardice? You might not hurt people personally, but you've allowed monsters to thrive. Countless people have gotten hurt because of you!"

Cowardice? The hand holding her white pistol shook. Was she a coward?

No, I can't be a coward. Magical girls are beyond morality. Yet, Seina's accusatory eyes burned into her, making her hesitate. This slip-up allowed her opponent to close the distance. Despite hitting herself with another defense bullet, Takako felt her ribs shatter as Seina punched her with full force. She tried fighting Seina off, but the girl's superior fighting skills made shaking her off almost impossible.

"Ouch." Aiko flinched as Seina delivered another punishing blow to Takako's chest.

"Go, kick her butt!" Colten said, cheering her partner on.

Mr. Kiyojiro shook his head, disappointed. "That's what she gets for ignoring the basics of defense. I warned her." During the exchange, her friends had moved to a safe distance, not wanting to get caught up in the fighting.

"No, I can't lose yet. Healing Shot." Takako said, blood staining her mouth.

Energy revitalized her as she restored her power with a shot from her black gun. Another shot quickened her speed, firing hundreds of point-blank shots into Seina's chest. She smirked as it was Seina's turn to stagger. A punch flew past her head as Takako dodged away, moving to a safe distance. Seina grimaced as she moved, moving with some sluggishness, helping Takako's escape.

"Ouch." Seina rubbed at her wounded chest.

Takako took pleasure in causing her rival serious injury. Yet, it wasn't enough. Seina had a great deal of fight still in her. She could hurt Seina, but not without great personal risk. She needed to get close to cause any real damage. No matter, Takako had a plan for that, shooting herself with another speed boost.

Seina's movements slowed to a grind as Takako summoned more gravity wells with her white pistol that engulfed half of her rival's body. Her black pistol pumped shot after shot into her while Takako circled around her. While not hitting vital areas, the shots caused Seina a great deal of pain. With some effort, Seina slipped out of the gravity well. But Takako disappeared before she could retaliate with her own attack.

"That's just cheap!" Colten said, fuming.

"Anything to win." Takako's lips quirked into a smirk. "You're just a brute, after all. Without your mighty strength, you're nothing but a target." That was what Seina deserved for fighting a more experienced magical girl. Instead of moving to attack, her rival stood still, eyes closed.

What is she plotting? Never mind. I've proven this fight is over with. After shooting herself with another speed boost, Takako went on the offensive. She purposely made her movements confusing, ruining any chance of predicting where she might be.

Now! Takako summoned another gravity well, and Seina didn't even attempt to dodge. Her rival was making this too easy, and Takako pointed her black pistol towards Seina's exposed chest. She gasped when she realized Seina had her staff in her other hand. Pain exploded, and Takako staggered as Seina struck her across the head. Takako had been in mid-movement, leaving her unable to dodge. She crumbled to the ground, dazed.

Too late, Takako realized what Seina had done. The girl had moved at the last moment, positioning herself so her head and staff missed the gravity well, leaving her in a better position to strike back. Incredible. Takako hadn't even seen her move. She laid on the ground, helpless. Without a shot to strengthen herself, Takako's body couldn't withstand the blow. She tried lifting her black pistol to heal herself, but Seina only kicked it away.

"No!" While Takako could just re-summon her weapon, Seina wouldn't give her a chance. She was dead, looking up at Seina with fearful eyes.

"You have some nice tricks, Takako," Seina said, eyes cold. "But that's all you have, tricks."

"What now?" Aiko asked, eying her friend with worry.

"We need to kill her." Mr. Kiyojiro said. "She'll only become a danger again."

"It's the only way," Colten said, nodding his agreement.

No! Despite the disorientation, Takako tried squirming away. Anything to save herself. A boot from Mr. Kiyojiro stopped her, pinning her in place.

"Please." Tears flowed down Takako's eyes, terrified out of her mind. Worse, Takako saw  contempt in Seina's eyes. Her rival was considering the possibility of ending her right here.

"No! We are not doing that!" With surprising force, Aiko pushed Mr. Kiyojiro off her. The bodyguard stumbled, surprised by the girl's tenacity.

"Aiko?" Seina's eyes widened in surprise.

"Leave her alone!" Aiko used her body to protect Takako.

What? Takako couldn't believe her eyes. Aiko was defending her.

"But…" Whatever the bodyguard was going to say, Aiko interrupted him.

"No! What are we, vampires? Takako doesn't deserve being shot down like a dog. She saved me, remember?"

"But, she'll only try and kill me again. She's still evil, even if she saved you." Seina paused for a moment and shook her head. "No, you're right. I'm being stupid." Much to Takako's shock, Seina placed her black pistol back into her hand.

"Healing shot." In an instant, Takako regained her health, glaring at her savior. "Don't think this changes anything between us!"

"But, thank you, Aiko." Takako said, turning her attention towards Aiko and giving her a warm smile. "You saved me."

"Takako, you're my friend," Aiko replied. "I don't want anything happening to you. We had fun together, didn't we? There's no need for us to be enemies."

Takako gave a derisive snort. "Shows what you know!" Though a small smile formed on her lips, eternally grateful the girl had saved her.

Though not pleased, Mr. Kiyojiro didn't argue. "For your sake, don't show your face around here again."

"No, she should." Aiko glared at the bodyguard. "We still haven't finished that movie we watched the other day. I just found another copy of it." She gave Seina a nasty look, daring the magical girl to contradict her.

"I suppose." Seina rubbed the back of her neck.

"Good! That's settled." Aiko said, her voice smug.

What the heck is going on? Was she meant to be friends with Seina now? The whole situation left her very confused. As per her habit, Takako fell back into the familiar.

"Don't think we're friends, Seina," Takako said. "I'm still going to beat you. Next time won't be so easy!"

"What a handful of a girl." Mr. Kiyojiro said, scowling.

Before anyone could say anything else, Takako used her black pistol to teleport herself far away from the scene, thankfully alone again.

---

A rat scurried across the street as Ume walked around an ally. People dressed in almost rags huddled around a fire near a bombed-out building. The country had recently been at war with a neighboring one. While victorious, the cost had been high. Suitable living spaces were sparse.

Despite this, the citizens made the best of their situation. They laughed around a cooking pot and poured out stew for anyone hungry. It was the best they could afford. Children ran around in the streets, playing a game only they understood. It brought a smile to Ume's lips. It quickly shifted to a frown when a group of soldiers walked by. The mood in the camp immediately shifted. Mothers grabbed their children and hid them from sight. The men went on high alert, watching the approaching soldiers with wary eyes.

The soldiers smirked, enjoying the instant fear their presence caused. One brutish-looking man stepped up, a club in his hand. The man thought he might have some fun with these helpless civilians. He thought wrong.

 Ume stepped out from her hiding place and the brute froze in terror. His fellows quickly abandoned him, fleeing for their lives. The people, however, watched her in awe.

"P-please... I..." The soldier trembled as she approached, trying to come up with some excuse for his actions. It didn't matter. The man was already dead. Seconds later, the brute's eyes widened, gripped by a terrible pain in his chest. Moments later, he collapsed, no longer breathing. Ume had never tolerated bullies.

While shocked at the soldier's sudden death, the townsfolk gave her a grateful nod and smiled at her. They knew what her coming meant.

"Oh god, it's her!" A man said. He pointed a gun towards Ume's face, knowing full well how useless such a gesture was. Other soldiers moved to surround her, trying to stop her from reaching her target.

"Move," Ume said. This one word promised death if they dared defy her.

The men continued to point their weapons towards her, but one man lost courage, tossing aside their weapon, fleeing at full speed. Soon, the others followed suit, allowing her to enter the mansion unimpeded.

Inside was a sickening display of trappings of wealth. Priceless pieces of art lined the walls, several resorted to their former glory. The sight of such pointless opulence twisted Ume's stomach. The more wealth she saw on display, the angrier she became.

After taking another staircase, she reached a set of double doors. She sensed her target was behind them and pushed them open. The men inside froze as she entered. Sitting on a throne was a round-faced man in his late fifties. He watched in abject horror as she approached. Around him stood several other important men. It seems Ume had caught them in a meeting.

The men guarding their leader were more loyal, shooting their sidearms at Ume's head. Another tried escorting their leader out while the guards kept her distracted. It was useless, however. Ume appeared in front of the fleeing men, stopping them cold. The president trembled in fear, realizing escape was impossible.

While pulling his leader away, the bodyguard withdrew a sidearm, firing into Ume's face. The gun clicked empty after the man had unloaded the entire clip into her. The bullets hadn't even scratched her. Desperate, the bodyguard withdrew a knife and charged. It was his duty to protect his president, and he'd die before failing that mission. Despite herself, Ume felt pity for such misplaced loyalty and only threw the man aside with one arm. The impact left the bodyguard dazed, but still alive.

"Please! I'll do anything! Please don't kill me!" The president trembled in fear, voice desperate.

"I gave you one order, and you failed." Ume's tone was icy and unrelenting. With a hand, she gestured to the fine furnishing. "While you live in sickening wealth, your people starve and live in burnt out buildings. Every day they fear for their lives. A single out-of-place word might get them killed. Anyone that dares even question your word disappears, never to be seen again. I've seen and heard everything."

"I freed your people from those monsters so you could create a better future. Instead, you became no better than your predecessors. Worse even. You squandered the opportunity I gave you."

Somehow, the president regained his courage. "How dare you! You have no right to tell me how to rule my country! You're a stranger to this world. You can't tell us how to live our lives."

"Silence." The rebuke made the president flinch, and Ume continued. "I wasn't asking for a paradise free of suffering. Just a society where the average person could live in contentment and happiness. A world where no one lives in fear! It is my duty as a magical girl to protect the common folk and stop suffering."

Ume extended a hand, summoning her weapon. It was a pen sized wand made of a pink chrome-like metal. On its tip was a heart-shaped jewel that sparkled under the light of the chandelier above them. "And now, your rule is finished."

"What?" The president made a strangled cry after seeing what the magical girl gripped in her hand. It was a heart. Ume released it and it plopped to the ground, staining the rich carpet in blood. A strangled cry croaked from the president's lips, and he grasped at his chest. The man collapsed dead moments later. The entire room froze in stunned silence.

Gingerly, Ume withdrew a handkerchief and whipped her hand clean. After examining her handiwork, satisfied she'd cleaned all the blood, she pointed a finger towards a younger man, the one who'd been the vice president.

"You. You're the leader of this country now." Ume said, a warning in her voice. "Learn from your predecessor's mistake. When I return next year, this country better be in a happier state. Or else, you're next."

"Yes, I understand." The new president croaked these words, terrified out of his mind.

"Good, don't disappoint me." With a flick of her hand, she vanished from the office.

"Do you think it'll work out?" Her fairy partner, Hope, said. "The replacement seems hardly better. It isn't like he'd done anything to make things better for his people either."

"I know, but order needs to be established right away," Ume replied. "I'd rather not have the country fall into civil war." From her experience, civil wars were messy and hard to clean up. "Either he learns his lesson, or I kill him, too. Eventually, I will find someone who can do the job."

Hope nodded. "Another world freed from suffering!"

"For their sake, I hope so," Ume replied and pulled out a box of pocky sticks. It was chocolate, her favorite, and she bit into it. "Any news to report?"

Hope nodded, giving a cunning look. Her fairy partner had secret contacts by home, allowing them an advantage in undermining the Devil Princesses' plans. "Yes, Emiyo has left Starlight Dream and is currently in Sector 8. It seems your efforts haven't gone unnoticed."

"Perfect." She chomped down on another pocky stick. "I figured I would lure a lieutenant out eventually." Though, Emiyo was a different caliber of magical girl compared to the chaff she employed.

"According to my source, Universe number 108 in sector 8 has had an unusual drop in suffering. A magical girl named Takako left to investigate, but never returned." Hope said. "They suspect you're involved. That's one reason Emiyo left home."

"Really? It wasn't me." This caught Ume's interest and she paused eating her snack. Few forces in the multiverse were powerful enough to kill a magical girl. A potential ally? She'd accept anyone if they helped her rid the cosmos of the Devil Princesses.

"108 is where she's going after checking up with the remaining magical girls of Sector 8," Hope said.

"Excellent." Ume finished her snack and got to her feet. "We can set a trap there. Emiyo won't be an easy foe, but she'll die like all the rest." She pulled out a picture and placed a hand against it. It showed a younger version of her laughing with another girl with blond hair and bright green eyes making a peace sign. A silly frame of stars and hearts surrounded it. Terrible memories followed, and a nasty smile grew on Ume's face. She'd take a special pleasure in killing the lieutenant. She'd been involved in Hinata's death.

"Let's go." Ume returned the photo to her pocket. Hope waved her paw and summoned a portal away from this grim place. She looked forward to visiting universe 108 and meeting someone capable of killing a magical girl. After many lonely days fighting by herself, the possibility of gaining a new ally and friend was a welcome one.

[neworleansspecial]

I Never Thought of Myself as Mean (I Always Thought that I’d be the Queen) | Letters!AU

Summary: Ava tells her side of the story

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Murder, Suicidal Ideation

-

My name is Ava Bekker. I was a cardiothoracic surgeon with Chicago Gaffney Medical Center for a few years, but I had that taken away from me just like everything else. I write this letter not to instill pity, nor fear, but to express my side of the story because all anyone ever heard was that of the people who did this to me in the first place. Nothing I did could stop them from holding that over my head. 

I write this letter also at the advisory of Dr. Sarah Reese, should that be of concern to anyone who reads it; my dearest Sarah wanted me to tell my side in hopes of bringing me some sense of closure, or perhaps catharsis, about the trauma which I faced at the hands of the Rhodes men. I do believe her timid assistant, Miss Sexton, only agreed for the purposes of publishing and analyzing my literature. I am sure edits will be made to my retelling to make it more palatable to the audience, though I will write things as they happened for this exact reason. 

It occurs to me that my version of events will likely never become public in the way the story of those who victimized me is. It was published across thousands of news sites the way I allegedly brutalized Connor and Cornelius Rhodes, but not a single one asked me whether or not they got what was coming to them. 

There are also fictionalized versions of the events. Some publishings said that I gutted Cornelius Rhodes like a fish, which is simply untrue. Reading the coroner’s report alone disproves that. It was Connor who died a bloody death, and even then, I showed him much more mercy than he deigned to show me. I will not bore the reader with such details now, as this is my side, and I intend to tell it chronologically. 

I know that Connor never wanted me in Gaffney. The first thing Dr. Latham told him, even prior to the passing of Connor’s mentor, Dr. Downey, was that I would have been his choice for a fellow. I joined Med shortly thereafter from my position in South Africa. To be honest, I took the position for the raise it gave me. I made much more as a heart surgeon in a premiere Chicago hospital than I did in a small South African hospital. I didn’t care about who would replace me. I just wanted the money, and I wanted change. I have always been good at what I do, and I think Connor resented me for being better at this than he was. He hated that I was better than him. He hated that I was better liked than him. He hated that I was prettier than him. 

Before my arrival, I was aware of the reputation he had. It persisted even in my presence. He slept around, with women and men alike, and he was viewed as being pretty. It was the blue eyes and the dark hair, I think, that made him so “classically beautiful” and earned him the attention he received. Patients and their families flirted with him as well as our coworkers. After I arrived, however, much of this attention was redirected toward me. It is not that I wanted, or even liked, this attention, but merely that I received it in lieu of him once I settled into my role as a CT surgeon at his side. 

We performed many surgeries together, Connor and I; some things are easier with two sets of hands. He never listened to me in such cases. I was the lead surgeon more often, but he chose to ignore my instructions and advice, if he did not try to overtake my leadership altogether. I think he may have been unable to relinquish control to a woman, particularly one he was attracted to. 

I do not claim his attraction as a facet of narcissism, but as a statement of fact. As I continue on, my evidence will become clear and one will understand how I know he found me, if nothing else, pretty enough to put his hands on. His father did to. The apple did not fall far from the tree with the Rhodes men, though Connor would deny such a thing. He did until his deathbed, after all. They were both narcissists and power-assertive rapists, a term I’ve read much about in my incarceration. 

I’ve found myself reading near constantly since my arrest, primarily about trauma and psychology. I’ve read about myself. People have written papers on how I was able to “hide” a personality disorder, and the way I likely killed before, and I’ve read each one. Those who have never even come within ten feet of me claim to know me, and attempt to explain my behavior as a facet of mental illness rather than trauma. 

I’ve debated myself whether Connor is a power-assertive or an anger-retaliatory rapist, though I’ve settled on power-assertive. He always hated me, of course, but he did not attack me as a method of punishment. He did it because he could, just as his father did. I read several pieces of literature about it, and watched old news recordings of Captain Olivia Benson from New York City. I wanted to understand them, though I know now I will not be able to get inside their heads enough to truly understand why they did what they did. 

When I was a child, I was attacked similarly. I was eleven years old, I was scared, and I did not understand what had happened to me. I repressed the memory for a long time, and it is only recently that I have begun to remember it. There lies another thing to be angry and hurt about. 

Connor and I were friends, if nothing else, for a little while. I liked him enough to not want him to leave, out of a fear that someone worse would take his place. He hated me, and then he realized his attraction to me outweighed his ego, and we reached a peace of sorts. I did not prefer his company even then, but I did learn to tolerate it, and became used to him. I do struggle with change, and always have, so I suppose I wanted to cling to the evil I knew. I knew what to expect from Connor. Or at least, at that point in time, I thought I did. While I knew how he felt about me, it never occurred to me that he may do something as vile as what he did. 

Twice. 

We were friends, though. Not close, but close enough, and when he was shot down on the hybrid OR due to funding and planned on taking the job at the Mayo Clinic, I did not want him to leave. As such, I stepped into his world, and that led me to his father, Cornelius Rhodes. 

I had met Cornelius on perhaps one or two occasions prior, and he was the only person I knew with the funds to pay for Connor’s hybrid OR. I had hoped to convince him by reminding him how much he loved his son, and perhaps repairing their damaged bond for my benefit. I can admit, such a task was manipulative, but it was all I knew to do at the time, and as such, I tried. I dressed up nice and tried to do the right thing. I wanted to help Connor. 

There was nothing nice or helpful, of course, about being pushed up against a desk and having my dress yanked up my thighs. 

I would like to say that I struggled, but the truth is quite simply that I froze. I have read a lot about this phenomenon- the third survival instinct, beyond fight or flight- and learned that I am not the only one it has happened to. I could not move. I could not think. I could not breathe. My memory of the event remains hazy but I remember that it hurt, and he left bruises on my body that made me vomit every time I saw them. I hated what had happened to me, and I wanted to die. 

I thought about killing myself, at first. My body, my soul, felt tainted by what had happened to me. I felt like I let it happen because I didn’t, couldn’t, fight him off. When I told my lawyer, I was asked why I never reported, but the truth is that I tried. I told Will Halstead’s brother, the only police officer I knew and believed I might be able to trust, and he sat me down with a very stern look on his face. 

“Those accusations could ruin Mr. Rhodes’ life,” he said to me. “Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked me. “It’s not worth it to do a rape kit,” he told me. “You’re being overdramatic,” he informed me. He never made a formal report, nor did he pass this information on to his coworkers or superiors, and I felt humiliated for having to relive one of the worst things to ever happen to me, only to be berated for allowing it. When I was done speaking with Det. Halstead, I felt even worse than before and knew that no one would ever be willing to hear my side of the story. 

Cornelius did not leave me alone after that. He sent me flowers. The moment I saw them, I knew I would never be able to escape what happened to me. I refused to leave Gaffney, however, because it did not seem fair to me that I should have to give up everything I ever worked for because of something that was out of my hands. It only got worse from there, but let it be said that I tried so hard to survive this and make it out unscathed. 

I had nightmares where it happened again. The same scenario, the same rape, over and over again whenever I shut my eyes for longer than a blink. I could not forget it, and it was exacerbated by Connor’s eyes and his voice. He was so much like his father that I could hardly stand it anymore, but I still wanted things to be alright. I tried, day in and day out, to keep moving forward in time when it felt like my body wanted to sink into the earth like quick sand. 

Then there was the gala, the one where Cornelius claimed I slept with him to get him to pay for the OR, and Connor punched him but he believed him. He had looked at me with that same arrogance in his eyes like he knew no one would ever believe me about what truly happened. I heard his voice calling me a whore all over again. I felt his hands on my body. My cheeks burned and my eyes stung and I wanted to die rather than live through this. 

That is the first time Connor attacked me. 

We were leaving, and I felt both exhausted and embarrassed on top of the pure terror that comes with reliving something like that. Of course, Connor was angry with me. He believed his father that I willingly slept with him. He didn’t want to hear that his father raped me, or that it happened because I was trying to do something nice for him. All he wanted to hear was that I had betrayed him. We were quiet in his car for about half the drive before he started yelling at me. 

I didn’t invite him up to my apartment, but he came anyways. He followed me. When we were alone, he pushed me up against my door and put his hand on my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I knew was panic, and I tried to scratch at his hands to get them off of me, but nothing worked. He was stronger than me, and angrier. 

He dragged me all the way to my bed and pushed me down. He tore my clothes off me and laughed at me for trying to cover my body with my hands. Connor pinned my wrists with his hands and my thighs with his knees and he assaulted me. I looked at the clock while he did, so I didn’t have to look at him, and it took hours for him to be finished violating me. I think it was. I remember it being around 10 when he started, and around 2 in the morning when I was able to move again. He was getting redressed and I saw my blood on the sheets. I curled up on the mattress and tried not to be sick. It was all I could do not to add to the mess. He did not say anything before he left

I chose not to report it this time, since they were so helpful when Cornelius attacked me. No one would believe me. Once I could move again, as painful as it was, I crawled to the shower and turned it on as hot as I could possibly manage without scalding myself. Then I took my scrub and ferociously attacked my skin with it, desperate to erase any and all traces of Connor on my body. I didn’t want to feel him anymore. I could smell his cologne, feel his hands, feel his lips still on my skin. I wanted him gone. 

The next three days, I called out of work. I could not face the world, and certainly not Connor, after being brutalized a second time. I did not know that he would try once more, only that I was hurt and afraid and so uncomfortable in my own skin that it burned with every movement I made. At that time, I could not bear to return to my bed, so I stayed in the bathtub, shivering, until the sun rose the next morning and I could crawl out of the plaster. I spent those three days wallowing, unsure how to carry on. 

Connor acted like nothing ever happened. 

I did too, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do, but I was never the same afterwards. I could not stand the way his voice sounded, or the feel of his hands on my skin in a million casual touches carefully orchestrated to make me lose my mind entirely. I hated him. I was terrified of him. I wanted him dead. 

That is not when I decided to kill Connor, however, and it was not even when I decided to kill Cornelius. At that point I was just scared. My decision to take back my courage and my sense of self was made much later on. 

I began to hate myself in the aftermath of what Connor did to me. I had allowed myself to be assaulted twice, or at least, it seemed I had allowed it, and I could no longer trust myself to do anything. What kind of weakling must I have been? How stupid? I trudged on. I wanted to die, though I was too much of a coward to commit to it. Connor never mentioned what he did, and in fact continued to flirt with me and make comments about my inability as a surgeon compared to him. No one paid attention to my flinches when his hand touched my back or the way I cringed from the sound of his voice. 

Some three months later, Cornelius was hospitalized and placed in my care because of a heart problem. As I looked after him, he talked about his memories of hurting me, and how lovely he found the sweat on my skin against his hands when he held me down. That was when I finally decided I had had enough. 

It was not an impulse decision to kill Cornelius, though it was for Connor. I wanted this vile man off the face of the Earth. I waited for the right time, found an extra dose of insulin, and made to shoot him up with it. Unfortunately, this insulin had a contamination that could be traced back to me, something I did not find out until later. 

After his father’s death, Connor confronted me with his accusations. He was correct, of course, but I lied to him and turned the tables back toward him. It would be beautiful for him to be imprisoned for my murder of his father. One rapist dead. One behind bars. I craved it, but I was too late. They would know it was me in a matter of hours.

I tried to run. I could return to South Africa, or make a home for myself in Brazil, or any number of things. I would need to pack a bag quick, draw cash quicker. It occurred to me that I did not have much time, if I had any at all, but I still made for an empty operating room to breathe and figure out my next step. 

Unfortunately, Connor followed me. 

He shoved me, hard, towards the surgical tray and put his hand around my throat just like he had when he hurt me. I panicked. Though he was not choking me nearly as hard, I couldn’t breathe past the memory of what he did. His free hand found the waistband of my scrubs and I knew he would do it all over again. So I did what I had to. It was my only choice. 

I picked up the scalpel and slid it into his chest, dragging it and pulling to rip his torso open like he ripped open my soul. His hands fell from my body and his body hit the floor. He was still alive, frantically pressing down on the wound and gasping for breath when I did it again, across his stomach this time. Then I did the only logical thing. I made sure he would never even think about hurting me again. I pulled down his scrubs, though such an act made me gag, and I castrated him. He screamed, then. If people weren’t on their way before, they were then, and I knew I would not be able to escape. Connor’s final act as the light began to fade from his eyes was to ensure I would never be free of him. I would never be able to forget what he did. 

When the police found me, I was laying next to his body, covered in his blood. I was laughing. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the fact that I would never have to face either of the Rhodes men again. Maybe I knew my life would be spent in a cage. Or I just lost what few pieces of myself were left, and some sad, hurting, angry thing in a fit of laughter was all that was left. 

I told my lawyer everything, but no one believed me, just as they did not believe me when it all happened in the first place. My rapes were never brought up in trial, only my responses. When I tried to make the claim, I was objected to. They shut me up. Dead men’s reputations were more important than my freedom. 

The few friends I had all abandoned me. Not one of them wanted to hear what I endured. All they cared about was the murders, and then, only of the victims and not why I did it. Until Sarah, no one cared at all. 

I still wonder if Sarah even cares, or if she merely means to profit off my suffering. 

[quirkykayleetam]

Cursed Silence

A 3.6K Witcher Sick Fic with Ill Jaskier, Hurt and Worried Geralt and some fun plot stuff of my own; a mild reinvisioning of Bottled Appetites if Yennifer hadn’t been involved, but Jaskier’s life was endangered another way.  Behold!  The AO3 link is now here!

“Oh gods, this is it!  I am paying the price for my life as a libertine.  Luck and mercy have deserted me and I am now doomed to pain forever!”

Jaskier winced and covered his eyes as Geralt pulled back the curtain from their bedraggled upstairs room.

“See?” he moaned  “Even the light assaults me cruelly!  And sound, the call of my life, is nothing but agony.”

“You would think you’d shut up then,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier tried to sit up and tut in affront, but only ended up falling back to the blankets instead.

Geralt glance at his fri… traveling companion.  Judging by the amount he drank last night, Geralt figured he had a splitting headache and a roiling stomach.  It would pass.  It wouldn’t pass without dramatics--that was Jakier--but it would pass all the same.

“We only have the room ‘til lunch,” Geralt said, moving to leave.  If he slammed the door a little harder than necessary to hear Jaskier groan, that was his own business.

…

Geralt had to admit that Jaskier played the part of the hungover rake well.  When he stumbled down the stairs of the end, his doublet was artfully unbuttoned to show just the right amount of chest hair.  He blanched at the sausage Geralt offered him, opting instead for a broth so watered down it smelled more like bowl than soup.

Throughout the meal, he kept stealing glances at Geralt.  The Witcher tried to ignore him, but finally the tension became too much.

“What.”

“We don’t exactly have pressing matters in the South, do we?  We’re just moving on because that’s what we do.  More people to see, more evil to fight, more good to do for the delight of the land!”

“What are you getting at?”

“We couldn��t, perhaps, linger one more day to nurse the headache of a dear, famous bard who needs his beauty rest to sing the praises of the White Wolf of Rivia?”

Geralt huffed.

“Fine.  But it’s your coin.”

He turned to leave, wondering if there was a secluded area close enough by for hunting.  With Jaskier sick, they would make slower time when they did leave and would need more provisions for the journey ahead.

He also did not fail to notice the small smile on the lithe bard’s face even as Jaskier sunk further onto the bench.  Geralt hoped Jaskier could get some rest before he face-planted into his soup.

…

“Jaskier!”

The next morning Geralt jerked the curtain so hard it ripped off its rung.  The Witcher threw it at Jaskier, pole and all, who barely groaned as it hit him in the stomach.

Jaskier was doing better, Geralt thought the night before, watching the bard cavort wildly.  Sure, he stayed closer to the fire than normal and seemed to have some trouble remembering the words to his old songs, but when Geralt turned in for the night, Jaskier remained downstairs.  Geralt’s last look saw the bard downing a toxic-smelling red concoction the innkeeper handed him while scanning the crowd with crazy hazel eyes.

“Geralt, I’m dying.”

“Dying in a grave you dug yourself, staying up half the night with a belly full of booze!”

“I happened to mention my ills to the innkeep,” Jaskier moaned.  “Aches and pains, that kind of thing.  He said he had just the cure: something about mulled wine and herbs.  It numbed everything, Geralt, and I didn’t want the pain to come back.”

“Yeah, alcohol does that.  Numbs you now, makes you feel it tomorrow.”  

He stalked to his saddle bags, feeling Jaskier’s pleading eyes on his back.

“No,” he said.

“What?”

“No, we are not staying another day for you to drink yourself to another oblivion.  I’m getting Roach.  Be downstairs in an hour or I will leave you.”

This time when Geralt slammed the door, he could have sworn he heard Jaskier sob.

Geralt was beginning to pace when Jaskier finally stumbled down the stairs.  His clothes were rumpled but decent, his eyes glazed over but open.  The biggest sign of his distress was his hair.  Usually perfectly styled, it was now ruffled in ways that made Geralt think of nights spent in sex and debautery.

When Geralt slept badly, his white hair stuck to the side of his face in greasy strips like Roach had licked them.  Of course that wouldn’t happen to Jaskier.  Half asleep, bow-legged, and weaving from side to side, he simply looked beautifully dispossessed.

As the pair began their travels, Jakier shot a wistful shot at Geralt’s horse.  Sure, the swaying movement of riding wouldn’t help his stomach, but he would give up all his gold and probably his trousers to rest on the animal rather than treading on his unsteady feet.

Geralt noticed.

“Don’t touch Roach,” he said.

Jaskier groaned.

…

Blessed silence.

Geralt never thought he would have too much of it.  Now he had to glance behind him every two moments just to see if Jaskier was still on his feet.

To his credit, the bard was still keeping up.  Geralt slowed his usual pace to give the man a break, noticing when Jaskier’s moans turned into whimpers and then heavy breathing, but he kept going.  If Jaskier was going to make his life harder with drink, Geralt wasn’t going to entirely ease his pain.  Jaskier did not complain.  He shouldered his lute and limped after the Witcher, his face set in determination and hurt.

They were deep in the forest, when Geralt suddenly heard Jaskier slow.

“Ger...Geralt...I can’t…”

Geralt swung off Roach immediately, ready to relent and let the bard ride the rest of the way, but he immediately stopped.

Jaskier was a trembling mess.  It was cold outside, chill enough to leave frost on the tips of branches and leaves, but the bard sweated through his jacket.  He huddled doubled over.  With one hand, he clutched at his throat.

“Can’t breathe, Ger...I don’t know…”

With that, Jaskier’s eyes rolled back into his head.  Geralt barely caught him before he fell to the ground.

It wasn’t just drunkenness; Geralt could tell as soon as he touched Jaskier’s paling skin.  The bard was burning up from the inside.  Even mostly unconscious, he whimpered each time Geralt had to shift Jaskier in his grip.

Cursing, Geralt didn’t know whether to spend more time settling Jaskier on Roach’s back or dashing off to get help.

There wasn’t a mage or a medic in the town they left.  Geralt could get Jaskier there in hours, but the Witcher might not be able to do anything but watch Jaskier pant in agony.  The bard needed medicine, a cooling bath, Geralt didn’t know what else.  He just didn’t want to see Jaskier in any more pain.  Or worse.

Golden eyes set on the horizon, he set off as fast as he dared.  Every pitiful sound Jaskier made echoed through Geralt’s entire body.

Hee had done shit all to help Jaskier.  Hopefully now he could persuade someone else to do more.

…

Dawn crested the hill behind Roach as Geralt finally spotted a town within reach.  The village was a sizable, a good sign, though not a certain one.  He patted the horse tiredly, glad that Roach hadn’t bucked at riding through the night.  In the saddle beside him, Jaskier did not even whimper.  The bard had stopped making even the smallest sounds long ago.  The only thing keeping Geralt going was that he could see Jaskier’s weak, stuttering breath in the cold.

Geralt swung down beside the first open door he saw, that of an inn.  The innkeeper was sweeping out the debris from the night before and took the Witcher’s coin.

“Doctor?  Mage?”  He inquired huskily.

“Mage.  North side of town.  Not sure if you can pay him though.”

Geralt jingled his bag of coin.  The innkeeper shook his head.

“He’s one for strange deals and bargains.  Some folk say he’s fair.  Others say wiley.  Keep your wits about you, Witcher.”

Geralt thanked the man with another coin, but couldn’t give a damn about his wits.  He’d lose them all if he could keep Jaskier alive.

He found the mage easy enough.  While the man didn’t set up in a castle like some magicians, he made his profession clear enough; his three-story workshop was made of shimmery black stone that could only be enchanted.  Either that or the man had spent lifetimes mining and shaping obsidian from the land’s farthest shores.  Geralt figured he couldn’t rule that out.

Tying Roach to a tree outside and cradling Jaskier in his arms, he kicked at the ornate wooden door until someone answered it.  Enough kicking, he supposed, and he could knock the bloody thing down, but it swung inward before Geralt had the chance.

“Witcher.” A spry man of indeterminate age, oaken skin, and jet black hair dressed blacksmith’s garb greeted him.  “Please, come in.”

…

The wizard could clearly see Geralt’s purpose.  He motioned the Witcher to a room on the third story with tightly shut windows, a fire in the hearth, and a bed for Jaskier.  Geralt laid the bard down somewhat reluctantly.  He wanted Jaskier to get better, but he didn’t trust wizards, however benign they seemed.

The wizard cleared his throat and Geralt turned to face him, keeping his body between the mage and Jaskier’s unconscious form.

“So,” the man began, “Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blavikin, has traveled all this way to…”

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“Pardon me?” the wizard said.  He took a step back but looked more intrigued than insulted by the interruption.

“Can you heal him?” Geralt said, his voice a low growl.

“Are you sure you can pay my price?  Surely someone must have told you…”

“Yes,” Geralt said.

“Why?”  The wizard’s eyes twinkled.

“I’ll do anything.”

The moment the words left Geralt’s mouth, he knew they were true.  Maybe he hadn’t chosen this life, but it was his and he was well suited for it.  Jaskier was soft.  He enjoyed fine cloth and finer wine.  He deserved to sing in a palace and sleep on silk sheets every night instead of cavorting around with a twice-damned Witcher.

“It’s Vale’s Fever,” the mage said.  “Comes on like the common flu, just quicker, until it steals the victims voice.  Has it gone that far?”

Geralt nodded.

“Jaskier…  He said he couldn’t breathe.”

“That’s it then,” the wizard said, turning from Geralt to examine the potions on his work bench in the corner.  “I’ll give you this, I’ll tend to your friend, Jaskier, and save his life if I can, but only for the work you give me.  I’ve got a workshop downstairs where I smelt metals important to me.  For twelve hours of manual labor, I’ll give you twelve hours of medical care for your friend.”

“And the nights?” Geralt asks.  “What happens if he needs help during the night.”

“Not my problem,” the wizard said.  “Days for days is all I offer.”

“Fine,” Geralt growled.  He wasn’t bednurse, but if he had to see Jaskier through a few feverish nights without throwing things at the bard, he supposed he could do it.  “Show me where to start working.”

“Ah, ah ah,” the wizard said, holding up a finger.  “That is simply the deal to save the man’s life.  His voice on the other hand…?”

It took all of Geralt’s control not to slam the wizard into the glimmering stone behind him.

“What about his voice?”

“Terrible thing about Vale’s Fever.  Most of those who survive never speak again.  That I can restore magically…”

“What’s your price?”

“I’m a fair man,” the wizard said liberally, showing Geralt his palms.  It didn’t soften the Witcher’s temper.  “A voice for a voice is a fair trade, wouldn’t you think?”

“Fine,” Geralt said.  “Do it.”

“Don’t you want to hear more about the process?”

“No,” he said darkly.  “I stop talking and the bard sings again.  Works well enough for me,”

No one but Roach will miss it anyway, he thought.  And Jaskier without a voice?  That would be like a bird without wings or a Witcher with purple hair.  The bard might as well be dead as mute.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t swat the wizard’s hand away as he moved forward and tapped Geralt’s throat.

Magic flowed through the Witcher, causing Geralt to fall forward and clutch his throat.  It felt like all the air inside of him suddenly expelled itself in a whirlwind of vacuum.  He felt dizzy, but wouldn’t give the wizard the satisfaction of seeing it.  Straightening, he opened his mouth to test the spell, first trying a whisper, then a curse, then a bellow.  No sound came out.

The wizard smiled.  Geralt glared.  Together, they went downstairs to the workshop.

…

For five days, Geralt labored under the mage’s command.  For the most part, he tended the bellows, keeping the wizard’s massive fire stoked to extraordinary temperatures.  Whatever he was smelting, the mage needed it constantly, consistently scorching and he was ready to leverage the Witcher’s enhanced strength and endurance to keep it so.

By the end of each day, Geralt arms ached with exhaustion.  His hands and forearms were black with ash.  When he washed that layer of grime away, it showed only open burns from the flames that made him wince and curse.  Each day he wanted to demand leather gloves or more than the small waterskin he was given from the mage, but each night he forgot to do so in his rush to Jaskier’s side.

“Better,” is all the mage would say.  Geralt had to take his word for it.

From sundown to dawn, the Witcher sat in the hard backed chair by Jaskier’s bed.  He used clean clothes to wipe the sweat off the bard’s forehead and clutched the slender man’s arms when he seized in his sleep.  Each day it became harder and harder for Geralt to stop his head from drooping onto his chest during the quiet moments of the night, but he fought off the urge with every spark inside of him.  He couldn’t do anything else for Jaskier, so he would sure as hell do this.

On the fifth night, Geralt caved.  His limbs felt like leaden turnips.  Jaskier was making sounds again, but shivering under the sheets.  Geralt crawled in bed next to him, wrapping his arms around the bard.

“Be warm, dammit.  Be well!” he thought with force and ire as his eyes closed.

Jaskier relaxed as his fever dwindled, curling closer to Geralt in the dark.

…

As dawn flooded the chamber the next morning, Geralt awoke to a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way,” Jaskier said sleepily.  “But normally when I wake up with a headache in a strange room, not remembering how I got there, I’m not in bed with you.”

Geralt glared.

“I’m glad you’re alive, you stupid git,” he thought, but he couldn’t very well say it, so he got up and started packing their bags, taking extra care not to manhandle Jaskier’s lute.

“Ah, so the sleeping beauty awakes!” the wizard said with a flourish, bursting into the room.

He turned to Geralt.

“The Vale’s Fever is cured and your friend is upright and speaking.  I take it that you are satisfied with both of your deals.”

Geralt grunted his assent, trying to subtly motion Jaskier to go.  Sadly, subtle was not exactly in Jaskier’s vocabulary.

“Deals?  What are you talking about.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the curing and all.  But Geralt, what the hell did you do?  Because if it was something daring, I have a great need to sing about it and if it was something, reckless I have a great need to berate you about it dunk me in a lake.  Or something.  I’m sure you’ll come up with something.  You’re infinitely creative.”

The wizard laughed.  Geralt wanted to strangle him.  Possibly he wanted to strangle Jaskier too, but the wizard was definitely his priority.

“Nothing of the sort, my dear Jaskier.  Our Witcher friend simply engaged in a modest trade.  Your illness often leaves its victims mute.  He swapped his voice for yours, nothing fancy.

“Switch it back.”

“Pardon me?”

The Witcher stared at Jaskier as well, both because the bard was advocating for madness and because it was probably the shortest sentence Geralt had ever heard him say.

“You heard me.  Undo the deal.  I was unconscious and did not agree to it so make it, I don’t know, poof.  Vanish.  Go off into the air.  

“Yes, I tend to use my voice a bit more liberally than our dear Witcher, but it’s for publicity.  If it wasn’t for him saying things that mattered, we would both be dead four times over.  Besides, I’m the normal person tagging along here.  My songs are important, but come on, I’m not.  The last Witcher you’ll see this age?  That is.  Geralt has a purpose or a destiny or whatever you want to call it that won’t get my teeth kicked in and he damn well needs a voice for that.”

“Very well,” the wizard said.  “It’s your voice.”

He strode forward to touch Jaskier’s throat, but Geralt blocked his way.

“No,” the Witcher thought sternly.

“You heard the bard,” the wizard said.  “You’re the important one.”

Geralt shook his head.

“You really want to argue with that?”

The Witcher nodded.

The wizard looked quizzical, but stepped back, raising his hands.  With a gesture, the windows by the bed burst open and wind filled the room.

Geralt felt air rushing into his lungs.  It felt like a punch in the gut, but he was ready for it this time.

He whirled on Jaskier.

“As soon as we get Roach, I’m going to kill you,” the Witcher growled.

“Can you at least let me get a meal first?  And maybe some ale?  I’ve always dreamed of dying with a full stomach and, hey, it’ll make it harder for me to run away.”

Both travelers looked at the mage in shock.

He shrugged and smiled, easing Geralt’s aches with another gesture and soothing the burns on his hands with a wave of his palm.

“You,” he said, “have proven yourself worthy of magic without a price.  Those who would, without question, sacrifice all for another, deserve all in return.”

This time, Geralt didn’t hold back from slamming the man into the wall behind him.

“So this is what you do,” he said.  “You ‘test’ people.  Now tell me, who are you, shitbag, to determine who is and isn’t worthy.”

“Why, I’m a wise, discerning…”

Geralt pressed his forearm into the man’s windpipe.

“No.  You’re a manipulative ass who gets off on playing power games by pretending it’s authority.  You shouldn’t help people because they deserve it.  You should do it because they need it.  How many people have died from diseases you could have cured because they were too scared to pay your price?  How many children have lost their mothers because they didn’t have someone to plead for them?”

“Now be reasonable,” the wizard said, his voice slightly less bold.  “You work for pay.  You’re not just out there slaying monsters because someone needs to do it.”

“Actually, we’ve missed several meals to that ideal,” Jaskier said, moving to his pack.  “Ended up staying outside in wretched weather too.  It’s not like Geralt finds something killing people and decides to ignore it just because folks aren’t putting up a bounty.  Honestly, I think my profession gets us more money in the long run.”

“Fine,” the man said.  “Let’s say I’ve had a change of heart.  I’ll try your way.  For one year, anyone who asks an honest boon of me will get it, free of charge or deals.  What do you say to that?”

Geralt stepped back, letting the man’s boots touch the floor.

“I’ll see you in a year, wizard.”

With that, he snagged his bags and turned to go.

…

Jaskier trailed behind Geralt as he untied Roach and mounted the horse.

“Out with it,” Geralt said.

“Thank you for saving my life.  Again.”

“Contrary to what you might think, you are important Jaskier, which is why from now on you’re going to tell me when you’re sick and not just drunk off your ass!” the Witcher snapped.

“Hey, I tried!” Jaskier said.  “And have you looked in the mirror lately?  You’re not exactly the most sensitive person on the continent.  I was just trying to keep up with you!”

“Even if it kills you!”

“Apparently so!”

The pair glared at each other before Jaskier shouldered his lute and fell in perfect step behind Roach and Geralt, like he was meant to be there.

“Now, I appreciate you willing to take the extra hit for me, but I’m a little insulted that you don’t think I can make my living with just my glorious looks and extraordinary lute skills.  My songs are my strong suit, don’t get my wrong, but I don’t have to sing them.  I could sell them off line by line, the tune first, of course, then the words.  I’d have people humming tunes before they even knew what they were about!  Just think of it…”

Geralt sighed.  Once Jaskier got going he wouldn’t hear a lick of silence for the rest of the day.  The Witcher had to bite back a smile at the thought.

Thanks for all those who made it to the end of my first official fan fic! Tagging @redwingedwhump and @wanderingcas 

[oneiriad]

If lwj were given the power to change one moment in the past, what do you think he would change?

“But why you?”

They look down at the book placed between them on the table. It doesn’t look particularly remarkable. Just another book, to look at it.

Lan Wangji hesitates before answering.

“Perhaps he just brought it as a suitable host gift?” he eventually offers. Even as he utters the words, they sound absurd. Even for one such as their guest, this book - it is far too precious for that.

“Well, he did seem to appreciate the banquet you Lans put together for him. Even if you did empty out our entire stash of Emperor’s Smile just for him.”

Wei Ying pouts and entirely ignores Lan Wangji’s pointed glance at the last jar of wine sitting on the table next to the book.

“By rights, that should have earned me a present. Perhaps he was entertained by watching you get all sweaty trying to lift that staff of his?”

Lan Wangji glares at his husband. There’s no need for Wei Ying to make it sound - like that.

“It would have been rude to turn down the invitation to try. And unwise.”

“Right, of course. Only the best for our guest. The best food, the best entertainment, the nicest bed in the Cloud Recesses...”

“Ridiculous,” he grumbles, trying to ignore the tips of his ears turning pink. Of course it is ridiculous, the things that Wei Ying are implying - their guest isn’t even human!

Of course, that’s really all it takes to have Wei Ying on the floor, laughter peeling like bells. Which, come to think of it, reminds him of earlier that evening, when his Uncle had made some comment about Wei Ying, about demons, and how this had prompted their guest to turn that burning gaze on his husband, making Lan Wangji reach for his sword even knowing that he’d not be able to make a difference if - but then their guest had been the one on the floor, laughing and declaring that he’d seen more evil in a bunny than in this so-called Yiling Patriarch.

Which had been an unspeakable relief.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, you know I don’t mean anything by it. Perhaps he just knows you have the finest calligraphy in all of Gusu? Or he feels a kinship to the Second Jade of the Lan, one rock to another? At the end of the day, why doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No.”

The why can remain a mystery, truly. Some things - best not to waste too much time pondering them. It will simply earn him a headache.

The why is not important. The what - that’s important.

“So - have you thought about what you’d like to rewrite?” Wei Ying asks, picking up a brush and playing with the soft goat hair.

He has. This offer - “One page,” their guest had said. “One page can be removed and replaced, before I have to take it back. Just make sure nobody can tell the difference.”

He has given it so very much thought.

There are the obvious moments, of course. His mother’s death. The burning of the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Ying’s death.

There are other, less obvious moments. Words that he would have spoken, if he had only known. Lives to save - or perhaps to end.

He finds himself leafing through the book, searching for that obvious point - and yet, there is always something. He wants so very, very badly to spare his husband the horrors of the Burial Mounds, of what he became there - but the horror is this: that the Sunshot Campaign would most likely have been lost without the Yiling Patriarch. Where would they have ended then?

Dead or worse, under the rule of the Wen.

He moves the pages forward, imagines if he had only said, if he had only realized - but each of those wishes would require far more than a single page.

He imagines making it so Wen Qing never found Wei Ying, and immediately hates himself for it. To even contemplate leaving his son and his son beloved uncle to death in the Jin labour camps.

It does not bear thinking of.

He imagines going there with Wei Ying, but the sad thing is - he doubts he would have made enough of a difference. He imagines exposing Jin Guangyao, but if he is honest with himself, the powers arraigned against his love back then are not so easily summed up in a single, scheming mind. All the sects had been scared of this new demonic cultivation.

It is a cruel gift their guest has given him.

“Lan Zhan,” his husband calls. “It’s nine. You should come to bed. I am lonely.”

So he does.

After all, every day is every day.

Afterwards, when his husband is snoring contentedly, he rises and returns to the book, to the maddening promises it whispers. He turns the pages, one by one, searching for the elusive right moment, and yet it escapes him. Eventually, he tries to turn a page and it refuses, sticking to what follows and dragging the rest of the book shut.

He goes back over the parts he can read twice more that night.

Eventually, he makes his decision.

There is a knock in the early morning hours, and their guest is standing outside the jingshi, staff in hand, the feathers on his headband swaying lightly in the morning breeze. He looks like a perfectly ordinary mortal wanderer like this, not even a cultivator, let alone more.

Lan Wangji places the book in his outstretched hand, and watches their guest’s raise his eyebrows.

“No regrets, then?”

“Many. More than I can count, but - yesterday is the price we must pay for today.”

“Very sage-ish of you,” he says, shaking his head sadly as he puts the book into a pouch - but his lips are parted in a grin that reminds Lan Wangji of Wei Ying.

Well, the unusually pointed canines aside.

“Ah, but this is embarrassing,” he exclaims, then scratches behind his ear. “I can’t just leave without thanking you properly for your hospitality, now can I? That’d be - very rude of me.”

“Extremely rude.” Wei Ying’s voice is sleepy. “I’m sure there’s a rule on the Wall of Discipline about being nice to your hosts.”

“Alas, I was never one for reading,” their guest says, taking a step forward and pulling the door closed behind him. “But I am sure, my new friends, that if we try, between us, we can think of something appropriate?”

It is utterly inappropriate. Uncle would be scandalized.

Lan Wangji - is not.

Afterwards, he finds himself drifting towards sleep, nestled between the pair of them. His sleepless night is catching up with him.

“Why?” Wei Ying’s voice is low, his fingers carding idly through Lan Wangji’s hair.

“Perhaps he reminds me of an old friend.”

***

Lan Wangji rises many hours after five.

It is utterly scandalous, really.

Wei Ying is sitting by the desk, a couple of unsatisfactory talismans crumbled around him. Of their guest there is no sign.

“He left us breakfast,” Wei Ying says, pointing at a bowl of peaches that wasn’t in the jingshi yesterday.

They share one between them. It is extraordinarily sweet.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XIV

December 28, 2277.

The inside of my mouth feels dry, and I feel like a brahmin trampled my head. What time is it?

Cracking one eye open, I see the top of Percy’s head nestled into my shoulder, her black hair ruffled, and I lean into her warmth, not wanting to get up. I wrapped an arm around her and settled there. Something soft and warm was pressing against my crotch and my eyes shot open.

I’m fully awake now, and I jolted out of the bed. Looking down, I saw that I’m only dressed in boxers, and Percy was wearing nothing but a scanty red nightgown, splayed on the bed and still soundly asleep.

What the hell happened last night?

Did I touch her?

Women bleed when they do it for the first time, right? Dogmeat whined and barked as I tossed the covers away, checking the mattress for blood.

Then I saw it, specks of red on the white sheets and blood staining her thighs. Fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening. She trusted me and I hurt her. No. No, no, no. No!

I stayed away from her as far as possible, sitting in the corner with my shotgun in my hand, breathing ragged. I feel betrayed by myself, for ruining the only good fucking thing I had in… centuries.

What have I done?

I sat there for fuck knows how long, numb.

Percy stirred awake, stretching her limbs out, complaining about being sore. She greeted me good morning but it barely even registers in my ears. Confused, she looks around, clutching her lower belly, and she locks eyes with me.

“Charon, what are you doing there?”

My lungs felt like they were filled with black smoke. I’m choking on my own spit. I tear my eyes away from her with haste. I feel them getting wet.

“Percy, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

I pointed at the blood on her person. Her eyes widened. If she asks me to eat a bullet, I’d do it.

There, I sat, waiting for judgment.

Waiting for the bomb to drop.

Waiting for the world to end all over again.

My memories of the old world dying came flooding in.

October 23, 2077.

The last nuclear siren was being sounded. I stood with the others, waiting for my next orders, but they never came. Each of us kept our contracts in our breast pocket. We thought we would be discharged the day we won Anchorage back in January. They took away our power armor, and sent us to California.

My home. If I had one to return to, anyway. It’s been seven years...

All of us thought our contracts were finally fulfilled. That we’ve paid for the sins of our fathers.

All of us were dead wrong.

Our contracts changed hands so many times, I cannot even remember all of their names. All I know is we were in charge of protecting influential people. Powerful people. People in the government. Governors. Senators. The President.

People who did not think twice before using us for their amusement. People who did not think twice before asking us to kill a political opponent. People who did not think twice before they ordered us to kill rioting protestors who demanded food while they dined on cube steak.

Cruel people.

Evil people.

Magwayen, our medic and the oldest operative, was sweating bullets, her expression haunted, while Xolotl sits on a rock, resignation in his eyes. Azrael was arguing with Vanth and Anubis, while Valkyrie sat beside me, her fingers tangled through her hair.

I was the only one who stood still.

“They won’t abandon us,” said Vanth. Beside her, Anubis nods, face grim. “They promised us that we’d be free of our contracts once every single one of the necessary personnel are in Control Station ENCLAVE. They promised us!”

“Face it Vanth, the military lied to us. Again. I swear to fucking God, you internalized all that bullshit they taught you,” Azrael yells back. “Look around you. Our superiors are nowhere to be found. We no longer have shock collars on our necks. Our contracts means jack shit. You stupid bitch, we should be taking shelter!”

“Don’t you trust the United States of America?! They said they will be here. They will be here!”

“Trust the USA? Trust the USA?! ” Magwayen finally screams, rabid. “Bullshit! They put us through hell just because someone we’re related to are suspected Reds. I don’t know how I managed to fake gobbling up their anti-commie crap just to avoid a beating, or worse, the fucking shock collar. I was nineteen when they started to torture me into being subservient. I thought that was bad, but look at Charon here! How old was he when he got brought to the facility? Eleven. You trust a government who would do that to a child? ”

“What the hell are you even trying to say, Mag?” Anubis cuts in.

“Don’t you get it? We’re disposable to them. They never treated us as people in the first place. They’ve milked us dry and now they’re tossing us away. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sticking around. I’m finally free of those miserable bastards and I-”

Before Magwayen can finish her rant, Vanth puts a bullet in her head. Mag’s body flops to the floor like a ragdoll. The shotgun blast tore through her skull, bone and mush strewn over the sand.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“You know our orders, Xolotl. Terminate anyone who would run away. If any of you tries to flee I will not hesitate to kill you!”

“This is nuts!”

My fellow operatives were killing each other, while I stood there, watching the mushroom cloud in the distance.

Beside me, Valkyrie is wailing as it grows. The debris was starting to fly towards us. In the corner of my eye, I see it. Valkyrie’s shoving the muzzle of her gun to the roof of her mouth. I don’t even know if I heard a gunshot or another explosion. Probably both.

My legs wanted to run away as I watched the cloud of debris approaching, but I felt the phantom pain of electricity shooting through my neck, tearing through my cheeks, and I stayed where I was. My pants are warm with blood and my own piss, eyes brimming with tears, as I watched the world end.

It was so bright.

Memories of all the crimes I��ve committed in the name of the United States of America bombards me as the heat tore my skin off my body.

I must be in hell and receiving the appropriate punishment.

Watching Percy’s blank expression, I feel like I’m being cooked alive by the heat again.

Waiting to be damned again. I have another sin I have to pay for.

“If you wish to terminate me for this violation, or have me terminate myself, I will gladly do so.”

Percy kneels in front of me.

“What are you talking about? Charon, you did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? What I did was worse than a violation of our contract. I’ve squandered the trust you put in me and-”

“No, I mean, you really did not do anything, big guy. I’m on my period, Jesus Christ. You didn’t stab me in your sleep.”

A cry I didn’t know I was holding back jumped from my lungs. I tossed my shotgun to the side, and put my arms around her.

“I know you can never hurt me, silly,” she laughed into my chest, muffled.

“I thought I raped you.”

Pulling away from me, Percy looks at me with a dumbfounded expression, which was quickly replaced with pity when she looks at my face. Her thumb wipes away the warm moisture under my eye.

I was crying?

Dammit.

“Oh God, Charon.”

Aside from me fucking crying, it registered to us that I was having another panic attack. We did the same thing we did when the Enclave landed in the memorial. The grounding techniques. The dog licked my face as we went through it. When my heart finally slows down, Percy sighs and takes my hands in hers.

“Charon, I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing.”

“Alcohol impairs judgment.”

“Alcohol isn’t an excuse to touch people without their consent. You’re either an abuser, or you’re not, with or without it.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“Look, I haven’t really opened up to anyone about this in detail, not even to Butch or Amata, but remember Stevie?”

I nod. I looked in her eyes and they were somber.

“He was drunk on duty when he caught me using my BB gun in the vault’s lower wards,” Percy almost whispers, voice breaking. “He said he needed to bring me to the vault’s precinct. I did what any scared 16-year old did. Comply.”

“Percy, you don’t have to recount your experiences to prove a point.”

“Let me do this, Charon. I want to do this.”

Sighing, I nod, and she drew closer to me.

“Stevie... he sodomized me,” Percy whispers. “He did it under the influence, and it happened multiple times over the course of months,” she continues, meeting my eyes. Swallowing my own spit felt like choking on stones as I listened to her.

“You didn’t. The fact that you feel terrified at the mere suspicion of doing it says a lot about you. You’re a good person,” my friend tells me, her small hand sliding up my cheek to comfort me.

“No. Percy, I am not. Remember when those bastards in Tenpenny Tower asked you why you were treating me like a person? You said that it was just the bare minimum. That’s just what I did. Bare minimum.”

“Fair,” Percy sighs. “But for what it’s worth? I feel you’re the person I can be piss-wasted vulnerable with. I trust you.”

Feeling the urge to bury my face in her hair, I asked for permission to come closer, and she nods. Inhaling sharply, I let the tears come.

“You put too much trust in me.”

“You’ve proven worthy of it.”

“Percy, I need to say something.”

This angel looks at me with those eyes again. I figured it out now, the emotions they carry. They were brimming with trust and devotion.

“Maybe the talk about the Enclave the night before triggered it, but what happened earlier pushed me over the edge. I had another recall.”

I pause to see if she’s still listening. She was doing so, intently. “Continue.”

“My mind went back to the day the bombs dropped. I was contemplating all the things I did under the Enclave’s employ. The bombs skinning me felt like an appropriate punishment. When I thought I hurt you, I felt like the world was ending all over again.”

Percy squeezes my hand.

“When I said that you were the best thing that happened in my life, I said that with full sincerity. I do not want to risk that in any shape or form. You are my employer, but you’ve treated me far more than a simple employee. I’m not sure...”

The words aren’t coming out.

“Yes?”

I wanted to ask her what the “love you” meant. Does she ever remember it?

She says that to the dog all the time. She can’t be serious. Still, a decrepit part of my mind wanted to bring it up.

Then my mind wanders to the jeers and insults people threw at my mistress for having my company. The dirty, judgmental looks. Their disgust. Surely that “love you” was a lapse in judgment, right?

I better not encourage it.

Perhaps one day I’ll ask her. But not today.

“Nevermind.”

I pull away from her and collect myself.

“You should clean up.”

Percy opened her mouth to say something, but a growl bubbled from her stomach. Blushing, she nods.

“Right. I should. Let’s get something to eat.”

As soon as we’re dressed, Percy curses when she sees the time on her Pip-Boy.

“Fuck, it’s already 2 PM. How long did we sleep?”

“12 hours tops.”

“Okay. Let’s get lunch at Gary’s Galley then hit the road. We need to find Lamplight.”

I raise a brow at her suggestion. “Are you sure we should travel while hungover?”

I follow Percy through the stairs. “There’s no time. We can’t risk the Enclave finding the GECK before we do.”

“If you insist.”

Lunch was mostly quiet. The food tasted bland in my mouth despite being well-seasoned. Percy was chewing on her third Mirelurk cake while I simmered in my own thoughts. Before we got out of the city, Percy entrusted Dogmeat to DeLoria, leaving him with caps and a copy of a key to her house in Megaton.

When we hit the road, I was still thinking about the “love you”, the incident from earlier, and what lies ahead for us. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.

That was a grave mistake.

When we approached Anacostia Crossing, they jumped us. The mercs. Talon Company. My senses were sharper than Percy’s and I didn’t sense their presence. I was caught off guard when one of the bastards threw a bag over my head.

Why did I ever allow myself to become this distracted? Goddamn idiot!

I hear it, Percy’s angry yells as one of the men dragged her into the station. I fired blindly at my assailant, but more of them came, beating my head with batons until I was fucking bloody.

My head spinning, they tied me up, and dragged us deeper into the metro. Then, we stopped. One of them forced me to kneel, then ripped the bag from my head.

“We did it boys! We finally caught the little saint from the vault and this ugly motherfucker,” one of them yells in triumph, and I can barely see Percy spitting in his face from the blood that soaked my left eye.

A yelp escapes her when the asshole backhands her, sending her glasses flying backward. “Let’s see if you’re still so feisty after that, bitch.”

Squinting, Percy looks up to him. “Fuck you.”

He hits her again. I was thrashing hard, unable to protect her. One of the Talon mercs whipped my head with the butt of a pistol and I landed hard on the gravel. The fucker squeezed my jaw while forcing me to get up and I bit him, hard enough to draw blood.

“Argh, fuck! The zombie bit me!”

“Put him down already!”

“Not yet. I wanna watch him suffer while we rough up his girlfriend.”

“Do not fucking touch her,” I growled.

“You know what? I have an idea,” said their ringleader. “Boys, time for some torture.”

I lunged forward, my skull colliding with the bastard’s cheek. Percy takes this opportunity to slip from one of the mercs’ grasp, but his hand caught her Pip-Boy glove.

My contract flies to the ground.

One of the mercs picked it up.

No.

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 14: The Whole Trust Thing

((Abe decides to search each of the guests rooms, starting with his own, in the hopes of finding some clue to help explain what happened last night. During the search he runs into the mayor, who has more than a few doubts about the hunter’s motives.

Link to the previous post, Part 13: A Debt to Pay.))

Some disheveled sheets, a more or less empty glass on the nightstand, a few paper wards tossed around out of habit more than anything at this point. Just the way Abe left the room this morning, but he still scanned the room for anything out of place, anything to suggest someone else might have been in the room last night.

There weren’t any of the usual telltale signs that anyone had tampered with the nightstand, which when locked refused to open despite Abe’s best efforts to jiggle the lock or knock the drawer loose, not without the nightstand key or one of the master keys.

He slammed his hand down on top of the nightstand, once, twice, three times until his palm burned. He needed the attorney, they could just smell that someone else had been here, although at this point Abe wouldn’t be surprised if even that turned back on him.

One of the paper wards fluttered off of the nightstand and he bent down with a sigh to pick it up, only to freeze halfway. The paper had landed face down, revealing that the back of the once white paper was now yellowed around its edge, tinting towards brown and even dusty gray in the center behind the words of protection. Like someone had held it over a candle, just short of letting it burn through completely. He picked it up and sniffed the paper, but there wasn’t a smell, not even a whiff of smoke.

A quick check confirmed that the wards placed at the head of his bed, the window, and near both the bathroom and bedroom doors had all been affected in the same way. They weren’t particularly strong wards, not something Abe would have used on an active hunt, but it was enough.

Someone—or something—had been in this room last night. With enough evil intention to confirm Abe’s suspicion that he was being set up to take the fall, or at least divert attention from what was really going on here.

Between this knowledge and having the gall to give him a card to remind him of his dead partners, it was like the person behind this was trying to get Abe to come after them with everything he had.

If that was the case, then challenge accepted.

The Colonel’s room was next to be searched, which proved to be nearly identical to his own in layout, although a chair had been moved toward the window, perhaps for the better light it offered. The covers on the bed itself had been moved slightly, the kind of movement that suggested someone sat on the edge at one point, but a peek at the neat, crisp sheets underneath confirmed Abe’s suspicion that no one had actually slept in it. The hunter checked the closet and bathroom, but there were no personal affects lying around. Now that he thought about it, both the Colonel and the DA had arrived at the door without any sort of overnight bags.

Knowing the little he did about the attorney, he wondered if one or both of them had purposefully done so, as a potential excuse to duck out early instead of spending the night.

Abe sighed as he walked out of the bathroom, sensing another dead end, only to stop short when he spotted the small metal trash can by the nightstand. Empty, except for a thin layer of roughly and hastily torn pieces of paper at the bottom.

Benjamin, going by his cleaning spree this morning, probably would have been around to clean out the guest rooms’ trash this morning if he hadn’t been more worried about disturbing the guests. That plus the whole “dead boss” distraction meant Abe was now kneeling in front of the bin, carefully moving the small scraps of paper around with the tip of his index finger.

Most of the words were torn or too scattered to make sense of any kind of connection, besides the fact that they were all written in the same looping cursive, although one larger piece in particular caught Abe’s eye:

“go to the party”

On another, he found a dash next to a large “C,” which he assumed stood for Colonel.

Abe hesitated. He wanted to know what this letter had said, but he didn’t have time to rearrange it here, and trying to stuff all of the scraps in one of his pockets could lead to missing pieces or worse, the Colonel noticing and using it against him. Better to come back with the DA as a witness, if only to keep them from having yet another reason to suspect him.

The next room down belonged to the Mayor, who appeared to have taken the time to neatly make his bed before sitting down with a stack of papers on his room’s desk. Abe took a hasty flip through these, but aside from the outline for an upcoming speech and reports related to events taking place later in the week, there wasn’t much there. Nothing incriminating, at least.

After a quick check of the Mayor’s closet that proved the man had brought exactly zero casual clothes for the weekend, Abe reluctantly moved on to the last guest bedroom.

The district attorney hadn’t even bothered to lock the door behind them, and a first scan of the room showed no personal items or anything worth hiding aside from their jacket, left hanging on the back of a chair. That is, until Abe walked over to the bed and pulled back the rumpled cover.

Wolf hairs.

The DA changed? When did that happen?

Abe glanced at the door and back down at the dark hairs, very visible and noticeable against the white sheets. If the butler came around to change the sheets, he would be sure to notice, and with that werewolf card floating around…

Without even realizing what he was doing, Abe threw back the cover and hastily brushed all of the hairs together with his hand, forming a small ball of fluff that he had no idea what to do with. Flush it down the toilet, maybe?

…Did this count as hiding evidence? What was he even doing, he should be asking the DA—

“What are you doing in here?”

The mayor stood at the door to the bedroom, his accusing stare only growing harder as Abe instinctively put his hand behind his back, sticking the furball in his back pocket to deal with later.

“Trying to find a killer,” Abe answered.

Always best not to beat around the bush in this kind of situation.

“In the district attorney’s bedroom?” the mayor asked. “Does Y/N know you’re in here?”

“They know I planned to search every room of this house.” Although Abe suspected the attorney would have preferred to be with him while said searching was going on. “What with the whole missing body situation.”

“The what?!”

Oh, right. Damien wasn’t there for that particular revelation. Then again, Abe didn’t see how it was his fault none of the others bothered to let him in on the situation.

“Mark’s body isn’t where we left it. Not only did someone up and kill him, they’ve gone and moved the body. I don’t suppose you have any suspicions on why that would be?”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “If I had to guess, perhaps someone wished to dispose of any evidence that might point toward the killer. After all, only one of us has spent any significant amount of time examining Mark’s body. Without it, we would only have your word to rely on, wouldn’t we?”

Great. Just another way he was apparently being strung up to take the fall here, like a poorly tied up pinata.

And the mayor had the same look in his eye as a kid with a big stick and some anger issues to work out in the name of free candy.

“Well, as you can clearly see, there is no dead body in this room. So again, what are you doing in Y/N’s room?”

Abe crossed his arms across his chest and met the mayor’s stare. “Like I said, I’m checking the entire house. I can’t just skip someone’s room because you might have a problem with it, sir.”

“Yes, it would be a shame if you somehow missed the opportunity to make yet another baseless accusation against someone,” Damien answered, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Tell me, why exactly would Y/N have killed Mark?”

“The werewolf card.” The answer came quickly, before Abe could even realize he should try to stop it.

Damien stared at him for a moment before fully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. In the next second, he was inches away from Abe, both hands tight around his cane as though he wished it were the hunter’s neck as he hissed out the words, “You and I both know why that’s not the case, hunter.”

“Mark was Y/N’s friend, one of their few friends apparently,” Abe said, and the mayor made no move to discredit the idea. “But last night, some asshole with a vendetta sends everyone here a card that happens to reveal something that they’d rather not discuss with anyone else at the table. Somehow, Mark accidentally walks away with Y/N’s card and finds out they’re a werewolf. He doesn’t take it well, because when has Mark ever taken anything well, and he steals a gun and the silver bullets, then goes up to the DA’s room and tried to shoot them, but in the struggle—”

“Mark would never!” The mayor’s face changed drastically with his indignation at the very idea. “Even if that were true, one of us would have heard—”

“He could have lured them downstairs, or outside, and then the DA did what they could to hide how and where he died. Or maybe they realized their card was gone, that Mark would find out and, afraid that he would reveal it to the world, did what they had to do to keep him quiet, using the silver bullets as a blind to keep you or I from suspecting—”

“Y/N wouldn’t do that!” There was a plea in Damien’s voice, a call for the hunter to see reason. “Think about what you’re suggesting, they wouldn’t—they would never—”

“I am thinking, and unlike you I know better than to let my feelings get in the way. I haven’t even touched on the Colonel or the fact that he, I don’t know, also had a gun loaded with silver? Meanwhile, you trust your friends to the point you can’t bring yourself to doubt them for even a moment.”

Abe prodded the mayor in the chest as he spoke, only to get pushed back.

“Some people might consider that a virtue,” the mayor replied. “I know Y/N and the Colonel; I trust them not to hide anything from me. What’s wrong with believing that my friends aren’t mur—killers?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I seriously doubt that whole trust thing goes both ways.”

Damien stilled, staring at the hunter suspiciously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t tell them? Nothing you might keep close to your chest?” Abe prodded the mayor again and was rewarded with the feel of the cards tucked in the man’s chest pocket.

Damien frowned and took a step back. “No, of course not. The Colonel’s known me almost as long as my sister has, and as Mayor, it is my duty to work closely with the District Attorney’s office so I can’t…”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, it makes sense a mayor with a very recent and public werewolf problem would want to set up a deal with a prominent hunter family like the Bronsons. Little less sense when you find out he’s knowingly harboring a werewolf in the city. How’d the DA react to that news?”

Damien’s expression gave away what Abe already suspected.

“…Oh. You haven’t told them. Guess that trust only goes one-way, huh?”

“How did you—Who told you?”

Abe shrugged. “You were sitting next to me at the table last night when we all got our cards. I peeked.”

There had only been the name, but every hunter worth his salt knew of the family. The name alone went a long way within his circles. But not one you expected to need in a city that supposedly had the walls and the wards to keep the riffraff out.

Damien sputtered for a moment before managing to get out the words, “You don’t understand. They have connections, they’re looking for cures, for long-term integration efforts—”

“And I suppose they just need a little political help getting that wheel turning, huh?” Abe said and the mayor scowled.

“This is none of your business, hunter. And it has nothing to do with what’s going on here.”

“I don’t know, in my line of work you tend to look for connections. Like how whoever sent those cards last night apparently gave a pair of death cards to the two people least likely to survive this little get together. Someone clearly had it out for Mark, meanwhile the attorney’s second card would be enough to get them killed, and wouldn’t you know it, another card points out how our honorable mayor is making backdoor deals with hunters—” Abe reached out and flicked the top of the mayor’s cane, and despite Damien’s attempt to interrupt him, continued, “You keep that silver close, don’t you? Maybe as much as you throw around words like ‘trust’, you have a little voice in the back of your head that whispers every time you’re around the attorney that maybe today’s the day they—”

Abe threw up an arm to stop the mayor’s hand, privately surprised he hadn’t taken a swing at him with that cane. Although that wasn’t as surprising as the pure venom in the mayor’s voice when he brought himself to speak.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare, for even a single second, suggest that I would ever do anything to hurt them.”

Abe looked Damien in the eyes and slowly the mayor lowered his hand without taking a step back. The mayor took a harsh, shaky breath and then asked a question that surprised Abe. “Do you know what Y/N did, when I accidentally found out?”

Abe silently shook his head.

“We were at a party, back in college, Mark and I had dragged them to it. They didn’t want to be there, and wound up drinking too much before ducking out early. I tried to follow them, to make sure they got home safely, and caught up with them right as they changed.” Damien sighed and looked Abe in the eyes. “When they realized I had seen, they just…backed away, cowering like they were afraid that I would…I don’t know.”

Abe thought back to the first time he had seen the attorney as the wolf. How they had cowered away in fear, never once seeming to consider the idea of attacking him. Not a story he thought he should share with the mayor though, especially considering he had been pointing a loaded gun at them at the time.

“I know they would never hurt anyone, same as I would never do anything to cause them any more pain than they’ve already had to suffer.”

“You can believe a lot of things about someone and still be wrong,” Abe said softly. His mind went to his own card, to some of those names there. He had trusted before, and he knew how that song and dance went.

“Still?” Damien sighed, but the disappointment in the sound rang hollow as he said, “It must be a lonely life, to think the way you do. Never trusting anyone.”

“Better that than to ignore the truth right in front of you because it hurts,” Abe retorted, but the Mayor was already at the door and on his way out of the room.

Abe sighed and gave him some time before following him out. Without thinking about where he was going, he found himself in a small study he had discovered earlier. The walls already bore testament to his twisting train of thought, with scraps of papers and news clippings taped up on every available surface along with his hasty notes, fragments of ideas that never seemed to lead anywhere. Most of the papers had come from within the study itself, or the library upstairs where Mark had an extensive collection of newspapers, although mostly the ones that might have some review related to a performance of his.

He ran his eyes over the pinned pages, looking for something that he had to be missing.

How could the mayor be so sure that his friends were innocent, when the Colonel was still walking around with a gun loaded with silver bullets, same as him? No, of course it was easier to blame the hunter, killing was supposed to be his job after all.

Abe plopped down in the chair and began to absentmindedly type on the typewriter resting beside a stack of books.

The Colonel had the same bullets, the same opportunity.

The Colonel had known Mark for years, had worked for him once.

But now? The two barely shared a word last night, and the DA had found his picture broken on the floor of Mark’s bedroom.

The Colonel had barely blinked an eye upon finding out his ‘friend’ was dead.

The Colonel had offered to put him down ‘again’, seemingly relishing the idea of taking on another of the undead.

The Colonel had been sitting right next to the DA. He could have snuck a look at their card, just as easily as Abe saw the Mayor’s. From there, it would have been easy to confuse the situation around Mark’s death. Kill him, then use a silver bullet to finish the deed and leave people to believe Mark was the werewolf. No jury in the city would question it.

The Colonel was familiar with the house, enough to know that there were two master keys. He could have stolen Mark’s copy and used it to access Abe’s gun, then left the key in Mark’s bedroom and locked the door behind him to hide how it was done.

Abe stared at the page, at the endlessly repeating words that echoed the same certainty that had been building in his mind even though he could not remember consciously typing them out.

The Colonel did it.

There were still missing pieces, it still didn’t explain what was going on with the cards, and it would not be enough to convince anyone yet, but Abe was certain to his very soul that he was right.

The Colonel killed Markiplier.

And he had let the district attorney walk away with him.

With five silver bullets remaining in his gun.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Abe was up and moving toward the door, his hand on the doorknob just as the shot rang out.

((End of Part 14. Thank you for reading!

Link to Part 15: Cards on the Table.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch))

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Alright 5x19 let’s DO THIS.

(Warning: This will probably be long.)

WE BEGIN...by visiting Leviathan’s underground speakeasy.

The shot of Lex in the glow of the Kryptonite is great, 15/10 iconic Kryptonian Killer.

But SPEAKING of things that are green and bad...Gemma’s outfit is stage magician meets Mera from Aquaman and WAIT, WAIT, I’m just now remembering that the character in the comics was linked to Atlantis. Is that why they’ve gone with a green motif for her all season?

Probably not. Either way, still gives me knockoff Mera vibes. (*whispers quietly* I don’t like Mera’s outfit either.)

(I’m reading the Wikipedia entry for Gamemnae and did you know: she was exiled from Atlantis for being blonde?)

Anyways!

That’s just a very long-winded way of saying that the costume is kind of a weird choice.

Then we’re back in Kara’s loft and finally, FINALLY...someone tells Lena that there are BIGGER FISH, STOP REMINISCING.

And then the Superfriends arrive on the scene and they are ready to throw down.

Honestly same bro, same.

Also M’GANN IS ON THE TEAM I love it please, SG, please, hire Sharon Leal full-time. 

What is the current door-kicking tally--how many front entrances have the Danvers girls destroyed?

“Well the joke’s on Rama Khan and his big dumb gladiator outfit because I already defeated him once.” THIS. IS. WHAT. I. HAVE. BEEN. SAYING.

THE COSTUME IS SILLY AND NOT IN A FUN WAY.

Leviathan just has terrible fashion sense, is basically the theme of this season.

Oh my gosh M’gann being the one to suggest the multiple Karas and the WINK I love her, I love her so much.

PLEASE NOTE: That J’onn was like ‘the skirt is surprisingly comfortable’ but his response to the pants is, ‘they’re gonna chafe.’ 

J’onn J’onzz, Skirt Supporter. 

Then the Alex suit reveal and ooof, ooooof, probably the wonkiest of the scenes, unfortunately. (Can’t decide if I appreciate the effort of the CGI Alex or if it’s simply too uncanny valley.)

Also, put a pin in the Alex suit reveal. We’ll circle back to it.

(Oh wait and also: Kara’s scream and J’onn’s reaction all A+.)

Breaking chronological order here to just touch on the highlights and maybe discuss particular chunks in detail SO...let’s get right toooooooo....

Rooftop scene with Alex and M’Gann! Nice! But also I was like, ‘Alex just...has a bazooka? ...Yeah that tracks.’ And then I remembered that she has the martian weapon...honestly kinda prefer my accidental headcanon that she just owns one. 

Then back to Lena and Kara and we’ve come full circle because folks...they figuratively flew to Luthor-Corp...on a bus.

Oh if only that was the actual goal of this entire plot. I would applaud it.

SG writers, always: REAL threats come in groups of THREE.

I actually don’t mind it. They aren’t given a big introduction and amount of screen time, so it’s pretty unobtrusive. 

Then we get a Luthor-Corp lab scene AND a good look at Alex’s suit so LET’S CHAT.

Okay first and foremost: not opposed to vigilante Alex! Especially if it means she can work with Kara a bit more directly.

Love the color scheme! Love the hood! Love that the boots are no longer the stealth wedge heel but are just...heels. Good, yes, good! Also love that you can see it’s basically built on top of her DEO suit which totally makes sense, as...I guess Alex is building the suit mentally, not physically, technically, but she’d still be using stuff she’s familiar with to put it together in...her...mind?

I also think the top portion sits better than the DEO suit, which had that awkward...square-ish portion that covered the front of the torso.

But hmmmmmm the eye makeup is...a statement. 

Confused as to why they didn’t go with a domino mask...maybe it was an actor comfort thing but HMMMMM not my personal favorite, admittedly. (Also don’t love the lace up look on the front portion but that’s because it’s reminding me of some of the terrible costumes from Arrow.)

And then the hair clip, which. Okay. As someone who has been struggling to find a way to pull back short hair during this time of no haircuts...can’t be mad about it.

In fact, catch me over here, taking notes.

Alright, costume rambling OVER sorry for the tangent but, you know. New super suit, it’s always exciting. 

I like that Kara had to deal with not being able to be out fighting the threat! That’s a good bit of character stuff there.

“William went after Eve ALONE?!?!?” “No super hearing!” 

“Please, be careful.” “You know me.” “Yeah, exactly, that’s what I’m worried about.” And then a HUG and they’re just the best.

 Dunno if I’ve mentioned it yet but I love the effects they use for Gemma’s ‘true form.’ Very cool and creepy.

Does Andrea just...not question Gemma’s evil villain outfit...or...?

Much like Alex’s super suit we’re puttin’ a PIN in the Brainy plot we’ll get there but FIRST...

THE KARA AND LENA CONVERSATION.

Do I think it should’ve come earlier in the season? Yes! Do I care at this point? ...Okay, still yes! But that’s another pinned point I’ll get back to, right now let us just bask in the beauty that is specifically, verbally laying out all the CRAP Lena put Kara through, and Kara making sure Lena understands THAT is what hurt her, not ‘working with Lex.’

“You never understood.” BINGO. “I know I hurt you by waiting so long to tell you my truth but what about all the ways you hurt me?” EXACTLY. 

“I made one mistake, one mistake that was only ever meant to protect you and in return, all you did was hurt me in every way imaginable.”

Then Lena finally apologizes. For, you know, the stuff that was actually upsetting Kara. So. We got there. ...Eventually.

Then it’s off to save William and he’s talking down Eve! We love a noble journalist.

Kara cauterizing the bullet wound and William being like ‘DO IT no wait DON’T DO IT’ and Kara’s just like, ‘TOO LATE, IT’S DONE.’

RETURN OF THE POWER RANGERS SUIT NICE.

And theeeeen a lot of scenes that are fine but it’s mostly just legwork to get us to the bigger parts of the episode sooooo we’re jumping to...

Andrea! Pleasantly surprised with her part in the action of this episode. Had that nice moral conflict we saw in the front half of the season. It’s a little crammed in here, at the last minute, but. Still enjoyed seeing it.

A personal quibble on the visuals: I prefer the simple elegance of the season one hope speech, (Just a lone camera, in a rundown radio station XD) but I understand they had to convey ‘scale.’ Still think it’s a little much.

Oh man, totally forgot to mention, loved Nicole’s line read for, “Maybe you should’ve been meaner.” It was GREAT.

So there’s the fight against Rama Khan and his buddies, and Kara’s trying to talk people out of a MMORPG, AND Andrea shows up ready to kill somebody. 

The drama! The suspense!

THE SCORE.

I have another quibble with the cutting back and forth on the hope speech and it’s largely to do with perhaps inadvertent implications regarding who has to grow from pain and what pain in particular, but that might just be a ‘me’ thing, reading the scene a particular way, so I’m just gonna move on and say LOVE TO SEE A HOPE SPEECH.

Also:

Supergirl: “I believe in you.”

The VR peeps and us, the audience:

Alright time to talk about BRAINY.

Admittedly haven’t loved double agent Brainy, which felt more like a, ‘let’s add some drama’ move than anything else.

I do still stand by my assessment that Brainy being a few steps behind Lex made sense given his distress re: Nia and the Superfriends.

But also...was a little wild, IMO, that he didn’t have...some way to at least circumnavigate the radiation shield? Or at the very least limit it.

But again. DRAMA.

All that said...wow. Loved the two Brainys at the end, there. Genuinely touching.

“Will you stay with me?” “Till the very end.” 

BRAAAAAAAIIIINNNNNNNNY.

How do you make another Luthor reveal work when you ALREADY pulled the, ‘It was Lex all along!’ like, twice before?

You MAKE IT LILLIAN.

Like, dang it, I enjoyed it. How dare you, SG.

But THAT’S IT. NO MORE SECRET LUTHOR REVEALS. 

The terminator look and death shriek for Gemma was fittingly creepy very nice.

But also WOW, she never interacted with Kara. I am DISAPPOINTED. 

So anyways, that second Lena and Kara conversation! 

It was fine. It’s fine. This is fine. It’s...it’s fine.

(Except that it highlights a problem with the way this whole thing was set up and it’s not something unique to SG! It’s a problem I’ve noticed with a lot of redemption arcs--which seem to be all the rage, as of late--and that is a disproportionate amount of bad things done by the one character, and putting off the turn until like, the last possible minute to increase the drama factor and thaaaaat...is not a super satisfying conclusion because it’s a HUGE amount of build up for a relatively small pay off. Like, as Kara is listing the stuff that Lena’s done, it’s kind of a stark reminder that Lena physically and emotionally hurt Kara on purpose which. Is a glaring red flag. That’s the kind of thing that needs to be unpacked, maybe! Given some space!

Which isn’t to say that characters should never be forgiven, or that they need to be excessively punished. It just needs time. So saving the ‘redemption’ part for the very end where the characters NEED TO BE HEROES RIGHT NOW IN ORDER TO HELP OUT it’s...hmmmmmm. Too rushed.)

AND SO, SOME FINAL THOUGHTS ON THIS, THE SEASON FINALE, AND THE SEASON AS A WHOLE:

Wow but I did not like the focus on Lena. Not fun. No thanks.

Which is only made worse by the trashfire that is the SG fandom. 

Loved the moments of growth and agency for Kara, though. 

Loved the big crossover! It kinda made for a wonky set up of Earth-38 plot vs. Earth Prime plot but honestly anything the writers set up in the front portion of the season was going to be at the very least interrupted, if not completely derailed simply given the nature of what they intended to do with the merging of the earths.

Like give me SG’s approach to handling the front half of the season over Flash’s any day. 

Still too many characters! Still too much plot! Still weird pacing issues! XD

Forget it, Jake, it’s Supergirl.

Oh, honorable mention: The handling of Kelly! She was integrated so well into a nice intersection of plot points and characters that when she’s there to hack into the Obsidian stuff in the finale it’s like, ‘well naturally she’d be here.’ EXCELLENT WORK. 

William and Andrea win ‘most improved over their intensely unlikable introductions.’

To be clear: I liked this season finale! And the fact that it all came together as well as it did is a testament to the skill of all the folks involved, considering the awful extenuating circumstances.

Though, upon further introspection, I think I really do dislike the CGI Alex. Too far into the uncanny valley, sorry. 

IN CONCLUSION: Very, very sad that it’s gonna be a whole year, or possibly longer, before we get new SG content but, glad that the actors will have a little more time off than they usually might, and I’m all for holding off the production as long as possible, in order to keep folks safe.

WHAT are Lex and Lillian up to, like, specifically, and WHAT is Alex’s superhero name??? WILL the folks in charge of the new Superman show remember that it’s a Supergirl spinoff?!??! Find out NEXT YEAR only on SUPERGIRL! (And Superman & Lois!)

EDIT: I used the word ‘quibble’ twice which feels like one time too many, but also it IS a fun word to say. ‘Quibble.’ Ha. XD

[dragabloodvist]

Everything changed

HTTYD, t-rated (😱shocking I know!)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @evilwriter37

Okay, it feels off to gift you this short as a birthday present. It’s Hiccstrid fluff/hurt/comfort. And emotional whump, I guess? But I said I wanted to write a short inspired by your short Kneel and I finished it just in time so I figured why not? I hope it’s not too awful.

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“Ah, here it is,” Fishlegs said triumphantly, and held out a small pot for her. “I knew I had another one lying around somewhere.”

“Thanks!” Astrid sighed in relief. She took the pot - filled with Gothi’s special healing salve against burns - away between clean cloth and other pots in her basket. “But we better send a Terror to Berk. I fear we’re going to need more still.” She glanced up at Hiccup’s hut and swallowed. “I just hope that’ll be enough...”

Fishlegs followed her eyes and nodded. “I’ll do that. Maybe we’ll have more in a couple of days already.”

With her lips pressed into a thin line, Astrid bid Fishlegs goodbye before climbing on Stormfly’s back. She was glad that Fishlegs still had more of the salve, grateful even. But, fuck, she wished they wouldn’t need it! 

Once she reached Hiccup’s hut, she knocked. “Hiccup? It’s me. I came to tend to your wounds,” she called but got no answer. “Hiccup?” she tried again, but with the same result. “Hiccup, I’m coming in now.” There was no protest when she pulled the gate open, so there at least was that. 

Inside, it was dark. All windows were shut, even Toothless’ skylight, and at first, she thought Hiccup had left without anyone noticing. In a way, she wouldn’t even be surprised - Hiccup’s mood had become unpredictable since they’d freed him from Viggo’s cage. 

Before she could start worrying though, she heard noises coming from the shadows above, Toothless’ concerned warbling and Hiccup’s labored breathing.

Astrid rushed up the stairs to his sleeping alcove and crouched down next to his bed where he lay, wrapped tightly into a blanket and trembling. 

“Hiccup? Hiccup, what’s wrong?” She reached for his shoulder after putting the box with healing supplies to the ground.

The moment she touched him though, he cried out. “No! No, don’t touch me!” he yelled, twisting away from her touch and batting her hand aside.

Astrid froze, her hand still half-raised, watched him cautiously. “It’s just me, Astrid,” she whispered in a soothing voice. This wasn’t the first time he had nightmares since they rescued him a few days ago. 

Panting, Hiccup looked at her for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly calmed down. “I… I’m sorry,” he muttered, slumping in on himself. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him with a soothing smile. “But it was just a dream. Viggo can’t get to you anymore.” 

Hiccup nodded but didn’t reply and only pressed his lips into a thin line.

Not wanting to linger on that topic, Astrid lit the candle on Hiccup’s nightstand. He looked pale in the flickering light, his cheeks hollow and dark shadows around his eyes. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and reached for her basket with the healing supplies. 

“Can you undress for me?” she asked, fighting against the sorrow about how the meaning of these words had changed. Only a week ago, she’d whispered similar words into his ear, right here on his bed. But now… 

Hiccup complied, mutely and unable to meet her eyes. She worked in silence, stony-faced, removed the bandages and inspected and cleaned the various wounds beneath. The burned marks on his forearms looked alright, relatively speaking. Raised and darkened skin, but no infection. They would leave scars but that was all. Hopefully… 

With practiced swiftness, she applied the healing salve and redressed his forearms before turning to his back next. It was covered in countless marks, crisscrossing his entire back and down his thighs. Some were just severe bruises left by Viggo’s torture devices, but more often than not, his flog had cut skin and torn flesh. The scabbed wounds painted an awful picture, only made worse by the cleaner cuts of a knife in-between the more ragged ones. 

Astrid had to bite down on her lip, hard, to hold back any noises or tears. She couldn’t even imagine in how much pain Hiccup must have been - and still was. When she cleaned and cared for these wounds, Hiccup trembled beneath her touch even as she was as careful as she could be. Her heart broke for him, for what he had endured and how much he still suffered, physically and mentally alike. 

And these weren’t even his most severe wounds.

Astrid found herself dallying on purpose, paying more attention to obviously clean and half-healed cuts than was necessary. Everything to avoid what awaited her on his chest. 

It wasn’t even the burned mark that troubled her. Deep down, she knew that this wound was the worst. But for now, she pushed it - and its meaning - aside, couldn’t focus on how this might affect the future. 

Instead, her eyes lingered on the long cut that ran over his chest, his rips, and all the way down to his stomach - and on the heated and angry flesh around it. Hiccup had told her about this one and the slow precision with which Viggo must have applied it made her sick. How could a man, a human being, be so evil, so twisted? How could he enjoy applying this much pain to a living breathing creature? Her hands hovered over his chest, trembling and non-responding, her eyes filling with tears. 

Why hadn’t she paid better attention? Why had she let Viggo capture Hiccup? Why hadn’t she found him sooner? If only she’d been better, stronger, faster! Then she could have spared Hiccup all this pain, could have saved him. 

“You don’t have to do this.”

Astrid looked up, surprised by Hiccup’s words. He was watching her through hollow eyes, bare of any emotions. 

Wiping away her stupid tears, she shook her head. “Of course, I have to,” she insisted. “You can’t treat most of these wounds yourself and this one,” she indicated toward the angry cut across his chest, “needs special attention. I don’t like how it looks. I think we should let Gothi have a look at it as soon as possible and--” 

She broke off when Hiccup reached for her hands and pushed them back to her sides. “That’s not what I mean,” he muttered hoarsely. “I mean that you don’t have to do this. Snot knows how to apply the salve for burns well enough and Legs can do the rest. It doesn’t have to be you. I don’t want it to be you.”

Astrid rocked back. “What?” 

Sighing, Hiccup averted his face. "It's okay. You… you don't have to pretend, you know? You don't owe me anything."

Bewildered, Astrid let her hand sink, frowning. "What are you talking about?" 

“Astrid, this changes everything!” he said, grimacing as he gestured to his chest, the mark burned into his skin. “I… I’m not who I was before - I can’t be. I’m a thrall now, a slave. Me running away from Vi- from him doesn’t change that. You know what this mark means. He… he owns me now! I’m not my own person anymore. I’m not even my father’s son anymore, can’t become chief one day…” He broke off. His hand was raised as if to reach for her but he dropped it before their skin met. “I’m not who I was before, and… and you…” 

“What about me?” she asked, not comprehending. She hated to think about what this mark meant, but what did that have to do with her?

“Astrid, I… I won’t be Chief. Ever. I can’t be! Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can stay on Berk, hidden and disguised in case my father is willing to take that risk. But… but it would be the life of an Outcast and I know that’s not what you want. It’s not what I want for you either. You deserve better than that.”

Slowly, understanding dawned on Astrid, even as she refused to believe that he was serious. “Are you out of your mind?”

Hiccup however just turned away from her, his shoulders slumped. “You should go,” he murmured, reaching for his tunic to put it back on.

“No!” Astrid growled, anger rising inside her. “No, I won’t leave now. Do you hear me, Hiccup? I won’t leave you! Do you really think so little of me? That I only loved you because of your title or status, of the prestige it would give me to become the next Chief’s wife? Are you kidding me?” The accusation hurt. Was that really what he thought of her?

Grimacing, Hiccup shook his head. “No, I don’t… don’t want to believe that,” he said bitterly. “But it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Obvious? What in Odin’s name are you talking about? I’m here, Hiccup. I’m here! For you! What gives you this harebrained idea that what Viggo did would change any-”

“You can’t even touch me anymore!” he threw back, interrupting her, pain now clear in his eyes. “You know... I remember well how you touched me the last time I spent a night in your hut. And I see how much it costs you to tend to these wounds now, how reluctant you become when your hands get close to my skin. Everything’s different now and you can’t deny it. I’m not who I’ve been before; this brand changes me whether I want it or not. It changes who I am, what I’m worth. I’m worth nothing anymore. Not to myself, not to my father, not to my people… and not to you.”

Astrid gaped at him. He thought she was so hesitant because she didn’t want to be near him? Odin, how could he be so stupid? 

Without thinking twice about it, she was on her feet and rushed forward. Hiccup grunted as she pressed against him, but she didn’t pay his pain any mind, couldn’t do so right now. With a strong sense of desperation, she pressed her lips to his, her body against his chest. Her hands were trembling, even as one clenched in his hair, the fingers of the other digging into his shoulder. 

Hiccup groaned, hissing against her lips when she pressed against his wounds. But he didn’t push her back, in fact, only pulled her closer with his hands firmly on her hips. Even after the kiss had ended, he didn’t let go of her. His face was buried against her neck, his arms tightly wrapped around her. 

Astrid had wanted to pull away to not irritate his wounds any further. But when she noticed how much he was shaking, she changed her mind. Instead, she held him in a soft embrace, one hand slowly combing through his hair, comforting. 

“I love you, Hiccup,” she murmured in a thick voice. “Do you hear me? You! I don’t care about your status or what position you might have in the future. I love you for who you are deep inside, for your bravery and your compassion and your wit. That’s not something Viggo can take from you.” 

In her arms, he started sobbing quietly, his fingers painfully digging into her back in his desperation to hold her close. It made her heart break for him, realizing how broken he really was inside. 

“He will pay for what he did,” she vowed, not particularly to Hiccup but certainly for his sake. “We can ask as many people as possible for help. We'll hunt him down, together. I’ll kill him with my own hands if I have to.”

Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat and he pulled back to look at her. He looked pale, scared. “No,” he gasped. “No, you can’t! Please, Astrid, promise me you won’t go after him!” 

“Uh, what? Why?” Why wouldn’t Hiccup want Viggo to pay for what he’d done?

Hiccup shook his head, fear in his eyes. “I don’t want you that close to this monster, not ever! Please, Astrid. That’s… I can deal with this, somehow.” he gestured at his wounds. “But I can’t stand the thought of anyone else suffering because of me, least of all you. Besides… Even if he was dead, I would still be a thrall. This mark… it’s for life! Even if I was free from Viggo, I couldn’t become Chief, couldn’t marry, couldn’t live a normal life, not ever. You know the laws!”

Astrid slumped in on herself. He was right. Killing Viggo might free him of that master, but it wouldn’t restore Hiccup’s position among the Vikings. A slave brand was ultimate…

“Then… then we leave,” she whispered. She looked up into his questioning eyes, something of a plan forming in her mind. “We leave the archipelago. You didn’t ask for this, didn’t do anything to deserve this brand. But if you’re right and people won’t accept you as equal anymore, then you own them nothing. We owe them nothing! We take Toothless and Stormfly and leave, fly away to wherever we can live without anyone harassing you for something you didn’t want.”

Hiccup’s eyes had become wide, stunned. His lips were parted, moving, but it took him a while before he could say anything. “But… What about your family? Your dreams? You wanted to become Berk’s best warrior so you can defend those you care about. Could you really give all that up?”

Biting her lip, Astrid averted her face. Images of her parents rose to her mind’s eye, so proud of her on the day she’d joined the Guard. She remembered her dreams of one day leading this Guard, of protecting Berk and the people she cared about. But those dreams would never become true now. And without Hiccup, they weren’t even worth half as much anyway.

Shrugging, she whispered, “I’m… not saying it would be easy. But this is an option. If we can’t take Viggo out or if living on Berk isn’t an option anymore then this is. I’ll stay with you, no matter what.” 

His face crumpled, a single tear leaking from his eye and his head dropped. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Astrid swallowed. She was a warrior, a fighter, tough. She was able to endure a lot of pain. But Hiccup’s pain was too much for her, the physical but even worse was the mental and emotional pain. She wanted to fight what hurt him, but that wasn’t possible. Not anymore. All she could do was try to make it easier.

She placed a soft reassuring kiss to his temple and then pulled back again. “Can I take care of your wounds now?”

Hiccup nodded ruefully, hissing when she returned her attention to his chest and probed at the hot flesh around the cut. “See? This is why I’ve been reluctant to touch you, you muttonhead,” she muttered. She didn’t look up, but from the corner of her eye, she saw that he was smiling. 

“Duly noted. And… I’m sorry for overreacting. I probably should have known better.”

Astrid sighed. “Yes, you should have. But I get why you reacted that way, I think. And I’m actually glad we talked about it,” she added with a small smile, but quickly became serious again. “I was serious, though. I don’t like how this cut looks. We really should-”

Hiccup’s hand landed on hers. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said. His tone was light but had an odd ring to it. Insecurity? Fear? She wasn’t sure. “Just give it a couple more days, it surely will be better by then.”

She sat back, watching him carefully. He was fidgeting nervously, not meeting her gaze and wringing his hands. “You don’t want to talk to your father.” It wasn’t a question. One didn’t have to be a genius to understand, after all. Going to Berk to let Gothi take a look at his wound would make it impossible to avoid Stoick.

Slowly, Hiccup nodded. Whispered, “No, I don’t. I know I have to tell him eventually but… But maybe we can put it off for a few weeks, spare him the disappointment and… and…” He trailed off when she reached for his hand, squeezing it. He sighed. “But there’s no point in waiting, is there? It won’t change anything.”

“No, it won’t,” Astrid said, swallowing. “The brand won’t go away.”

Hiccup’s hand tightened around her own, almost painfully. Then he exhaled shakily and nodded. “Alright. Let’s look for the others and pack our things. We’re going back to Berk…”

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This was outlined and roughly edited a while ago already. See why I really liked that chapter of NSS? 

I hope you’re having the best birthday possible and stay safe. 

[jay-and-dean]

Captive Chapter 1 : Blue Death.

Gifs not mine 

_Dean x Reader_

Summary : 

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

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Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Violence, blood, pain. This is pretty dark actually. Character death. Swearing. Dean being the bad guy. Reader being the villain... Everyone being quite bad.

***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

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1. Blue Death

            The knife enters the hunter’s flesh in one flowing movement and the tall man looks so surprised for a second. His large hand comes to my shoulder and he looks at me in the eye. Aware of how dangerous he is, even wounded ; I take a step back, taking the blade with me.

 “Sam !” says the British men of letters and I turn toward him with snake’s speed.

He shoots on my direction and I avoid the bullet at the very last moment, but it lodges itself inside the tall hunter’s stomach.

Looking at my attacker -skeptical because he just risked his partner’s life without a hint of hesitation- I wrap my arms around his neck from behind.

“Ketch…” says the bleeding hunter, falling on the ground like a dying wild beast.

I send his gun flying far from us and climb on his back. The men of letters nails dig into my skin while I choke him with all my strength, screaming my lungs out to focus my energy on him. He tries to bang me on the wall behind us but I’m used to pain and I resist, coiled like a constrictor, even with the muffled sound of my rib breaking.

            The lack of oxygen finally makes him weak and he falls on his knees. I scream even louder, compressing his throat more. His hands let go off my arms and he starts shaking.

            The injured hunter tries to get up but fails, groaning and pressing a hand on the open wound I made on his side. The man under me passes out and I let go off him, knowing he’s not dead. My head is spinning from pain and shock. I look at his lifeless form and take my head in my hands.

“Raaah ! FUCK !” I yell, looking around to think.

I kick the unconscious man’s body and hear something break inside him, a bone maybe. My ribs hurt so much I could faint, my heart is racing with rage and fear.

            How did they fucking found me ? I was so careful. Shit ! I’m going to run again, start from scratch once more.

“Fuck you hunters !” I shout, half panicking.

            I take a deep breath and the long hair man seems surprised again. I spit blood and whine, holding my aching chest. Bending painfully I pick my knife and lift it above the man of letters. When he sees me hesitate, the hurt hunter speaks :

“You don’t have to kill us” he says weekly.

“Of course I do…”

“Still… you don’t seem to want it.”

“Shut up ! Fuck you !” I say before putting my knife away.

            I take a big bag and untidily put a few things inside it. The hunter starts to shake, his hands in his own blood, his shirt drenched in thick vital fluid. A knife-deep cut in his side and a bullet a few inches from it.

When I’m about to go through the door, I hear him try to crawl to God knows where, like he needed to do something, anything, even if he’s already doomed. This man is a survivor and I can’t help but admire his will to fight. He crawls toward his gun and I could just leave before he reaches it, but I go to him and take it before he can touch the cold metal.

            I take the bullets out and throw them far from him, giving him the gun back, and he takes it, like that was all he remembers at the doors of death : how to hold a gun. Given his height and weight -I’d say 210 or 220 pounds- and the speed of the blood loss… I say he will be dead in half an hour. There is absolutely no chance anyone finds him here.

            I look at him and he stares at me, like a formidable noble lion looking in the hunter’s eyes. He struggles to breathe, his large and strong body fighting against exhaustion.

But he gives up suddenly, letting his head fall on the wooden ground. One menacing enemy gone, this should be a good thing… I sigh, and take a bottle of medical alcohol I have in my closet.

I kneel beside him and he looks at me with a great confusion behind the agony in his pupils. I press on the wound and he winces, I pour a large amount of alcohol on the cut then on the gun wound and he almost faints.

“If I slow the bleeding and prevent infection, someone may find you before it’s too late” I mutter, hating myself for taking so much risk. “You can’t go after me.”

Before I can find a bandage, he passes out and the door bursts violently.

Another hunter, also tall and strong, is aiming me with his gun, an extraordinary rage burning in his dark green eyes. An old but robust man with a machete and a blond woman in a cop outfit, also aiming a gun at me, follows him.

This is it. This is the end. I lower my hands and stay on my knees, closing my eyes to wait the sound of the bullet that will end me forever.

Finally.

 Dean’s Pov 

 The doctor says Sammy is in a coma, he lost too much blood and even if he wasn’t stabbed on any vital organ, nor shot in his lungs, this is not good. His body started to shut down for good.

But that is when Cas said he couldn’t do anything that I truly panicked. He put his hands on Sam’s wounds and nothing happened. No bright light or miraculous waking.

So here I am, sitting next to my brother, a heavy pain on my stomach, despair on my throat. He seems so little, covered in hoses and machines, strangled by tubes on his nose and on his mouth, needles stinging his pale skin everywhere.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, that was a simple case, that was a simple stab, a simple bullet. Sam Winchester can’t be gone like this. Ketch said we’d be back by Monday…

“Dean, we got the girl” Donna says entering the room, and something hits me. “We don’t know what she is, so we used every protections and spells we know.”

“What if this is why…” I say getting up, thinking hard. “What if Cas inability to heal him is linked to what this bitch is ?”

             I enter the dungeon, clenching my fists. Here she is, tied up to a chair in the middle of the large pentacle, her head down, hair falling on each side of it. Sam’s blood is still covering her and I have to swallow hard not to put a bullet between her eyes right now.

“What are you ?” I growl.

She doesn’t answer, keeping her glare on the floor.

“Oh so you’re not going to answer…”

I lift my arm and punch her face with full force, surprised by the lack of resistance her body opposes me. It’s like she doesn’t have any of that supernatural strength evil creatures usually have.

            She spits blood and clenches her fists. For a second, her weakness surprises me enough to make me waver. But then I see her dark eyes turn blue, an unnatural light blue that remembers me of the monster she is ; so I punch her again, this time in her stomach and she almost faints, coughing and spitting a lot of blood.

             When Ketch talked to us about the return of The Blue Death, I never imagined it had the form of a girl, nor I asked why “Blue” was in her nickname. And I know now. A fucking urban Legend among hunters, the death sentence itself, the monster that only tracks down hunters.

            We tracked her for four months, following a trail of bodies, hunter bodies. Now I wonder how she could have killed so many of them without super strength, because she killed all of them hand-to-hand, with knifes mostly, or just strangling them like she did with Ketch, before shooting and stabbing my brother.

When Ketch woke up, he explained us that she shot Sammy before stabbing him, like a coward, and that she straggled him. They are lucky to be alive. She never left survivors before.

            When he came to us for help to get rid of The Blue Death for good, he said she was hunter greater danger, and I remember smiling, thinking it was probably exaggerated. I believe him now…

            French, German and Italian Men of Letters tried to stop her years ago but she slaughtered most of them, now she’s here to decimate American hunters. I should have listened to him more carefully, Sam and I were reckless and I’m paying the heaviest price for it.

            I’m not doing the same mistake twice, I won’t underestimate her.

            I’m going to break her.

 Reader Pov 

             The pain is unbearable but I’ve known worse, worse than unbearable. If my body wasn’t able to heal a little better and faster than human’s one do, I would have died a hundred times already.

            I think my jaw just cracked, every inch of my face is hurting like crazy, and my broken ribs are now displaced. I can’t breathe properly.

            I should have ran, let this tall long-hair hunter die, run for my life as always… left the country.

           I thought America would be a fresh start, since Men of Letters disappeared here, but it is always the same : BMOL convinces or pays hunters to track me down and my life became Hell again after only six months of my exile.

           I’m used to run, I’m used to loneliness and anonymity. They sentenced me to eternal misery when I was still a child. When they killed my mother, my human mother, to take me. When they tested me, trained me like a slave soldier, when they made me kill so-called monsters.

            The monsters are not always the one you think, and most hunters are dumb, ruthless, fanatical, alcoholic, violent morons. The one beating me right now is no exception, I can smell the booze on him and I can tell by the way he hits me that he is used to violence…

            I just wish he would kill me already.

            The dark is relaxing and I try to concentrate on my broken ribs to fasten their healing, but one of the countless warnings around me seems to have an effect on me, unexpectedly. I’m exhausted and at some point I think I pass out.

            When my eyes open they meet incredibly green ones, highlighted by the red around them. The hunter is squatting in front of me with a stern face.

“What are you ?” he asks again.

Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t tell him.

I stare back at him and study his face : This motherfucker is beautiful, probably full of himself too, conceited, convinced to be some kind of hero. His jaw is clenched by hate and I wonder what bullshit BMOL brainwashed into this empty suggestible charming head.

“You think you can keep silent, huh ?” he says with a dangerous smile. “You’re messing with the wrong guy, honey.”

With that he stabs my thigh, making me cry out in pain.

“So you have a voice…” he says.

“Fuck you hunter” I whisper as loud as my aching lungs allow, an unintentional smile on my lips.

“You are going to tell me what you are…”

“Or what ? You kill me ?” I laugh sarcastically, coughing blood.

“You don’t fear death” he says. “But you run for months… I say you fear captivity” he rubs his neck. “I won’t kill you, I’ll let you rot in here forever if I have to.”

“I need to pee” I just say, hoping he will finally hit me too much, maybe kill me by accident, put me out of my misery.

He takes my face in his big hand, hurting my already broken face, squeezing so hard my heart races almost to the point of heart attack.

“You still think this is funny, bitch.”

 Dean’s Pov

             It’s been three days and she barely flinched.

Exorcism didn’t work, iron and silver neither. Salt just burned one of her wound, like it would have on any human. She opened her mouth to drink holy water, and no spell worked.

I arranged the dungeon into a cell, to be sure she understands she’s here for good, I need her to break. An iron collar keeps her on a chain-leach, she can reach a chamber pot and lay on the ground, that’s all.

           When I enter the room, she’s sitting on a corner, shaking and holding her ribs ; she hasn’t seen me this time. I stare silently at her : she almost looks like a normal girl, dealing with the most extreme pain and despair. She winces lightly, trying to cover the cut on her leg with a piece of fabric, obviously coming from her shirt. She’s different when she knows I’m here, : no cocky expression on her face now, only exhaustion and a hint of sadness.

“What are you ?” I ask, like everyday, making her jump this time.

“Hungry” she says with that smirk that makes me punch her.

“What do you think this is ? A luxury hotel ?”

“Well if you want to keep me alive, food is not optional” she smiles despite the cuts on her lips.

            I throw her a piece of bread and she looks at it, then at me.

“Not hungry” she says with scorn.

Rage makes me clench my fists. She’s manipulating me, confirming I don’t want her dead, that I need her alive, showing me how strong and determined she is by not eating what I brought her after three days of fast.

           I crouch down and take her hair in my fist, making her look at me.

“Listen to me, whatever you did to my brother, I’m gonna undo it, and you’re gonna die…” I start but a poorly hidden surprised expression on her face forces a pause.

“The tall guy is your brother ?” she asks.

“You already know that” I spit. “You aimed at us directly.”

“No” she simply says.

I search her eyes and something makes me wonder, something about her eyes.

“Yes you did.”

“I don’t even know who you are” she says.

She’s manipulating me again. I bash her head on the wall forgetting to restrain as the image of my dying little brother hits me in the guts, and I yell :

“YOU TRACKED MY BROTHER !”

She lifts her hand on her head and looks at her fingers, they’re soaked with blood. When she sighs, I wonder. That woman is so different from what I thought The Blue Death would be.

“Are you the Winchesters ?” she asks like it just hit her.

“You already know that…”

“Shit… Obviously” she says with a sour smile.

“What does that mean ?” I say, confused by her reaction.

“That I’m so fucking unlucky… Listen, I’m sorry for your brother” she says and I get up to hold back my fists because I know I could kill her right now.

I hate hearing her talking about him.

“He needs my blood” she whispers.

“What ?”

“Give him a few drops of my blood, it usually helps…” she murmurs, her head falling slowly against the wall as exhaustion hits her, her eyes slightly rolling inside her skull.

“Is it a trap ?” I ask with something childish in my hoarse voice.

“No…” she grumbles, letting her whole body coil on itself on the floor.

            Her head doesn’t stop bleeding. I’m afraid that punch was one too many. But I don’t have time to worry about her. I take a needle and jab her arm. Maybe she lied, I can’t take the risk to poison my brother. So I touch her bleeding forehead and carefully lift my finger to my lips, letting my tongue taste the metallic taste of her blood.

It’s the first time I touch her for anything else than hitting her, she flinches slightly and passes out. She’s actually pretty and I wonder what kind of monster can look so vulnerable when she stops acting so tough.

Her blood tastes so much like human blood, except something warm suddenly roams my body : Like a hug from a friend or a shot of the best whiskey. I suddenly feel like I had slept better last night and I’m less hungry and tense. My wounds don’t really heal, they just hurt a little less.

            I look at her now unconscious form in disbelief. Who is she ?

  Reader’s Pov

              I’m so cold my skin hurts, and I’m so thirsty my lips bleed.

            Fever.

            I knew this would happen, my wounds are infected and this is really bad. I haven’t ate for four days. I know I can survive a little longer than other people can.

Eight days without food and water, according to The Men of Letters. Fifteen days with only water, 140 degrees for a whole day, -31 for a whole night. Six days without sleeping, twice more volts than a human… I remember all their measurements. How could I forget ?

            But this is too much, and one of those warnings is still holding my body down. I shiver and try to get up to see if I can stand. I can’t. I fall heavily on the floor and swear under my breath, on the verge of tears. This is fucking unfair. Sometimes I just wish I would meet my father, know who he is, why he did that to my mother, to me…

             I lost track of time, but what I know is Dean Winchester never left me so long. Maybe he is never coming back. My blood must have helped his brother and now he’ll let me here to rot.

I start to panic, breathing quickly, I feel pure, painful fear hit my guts. I don’t even know where I am and I’m going to die slowly and alone in the middle of nowhere : my own worst nightmare, just because I couldn’t bear Sam Winchester to go through it. Shit.

            Please please please, come back. Hit me all you want, torture me, kill me. Just don’t forsake me like everyone did.

            The bread is rotting on the floor and I watch it with held back tears in my eyes. Cramps are tearing my muscles up, but I stopped reacting to them because there is no strength left to this kind of thing, I’m focused on breathing.

            The door opens suddenly. A young boy enters, a phone on his hand.

“She’s alive, Dean” he says looking at you with a sudden deeply pained expression.

“Good” says the voice in the phone. “Give her a glass of water, and something to eat. Don’t let her reach you, you hear me Jack ? Never.”

“Dean, something’s wrong, she’s shaking and sweating… I think she’s ill.”

“What ?”

“Dean… Are you sure she’s a monster ? She looks… I think she’s dying.”

“I’m coming back. Don’t get near her, Jack. You hear me ? Stay away, she’s dangerous. I’ll be there before noon.”

           The young man hangs up and sits on the floor. I can’t move, I can’t lift my head or talk to him.

“You shouldn’t have hurt Sam” he says.

I sigh.

“Are you ill ? How do you feel ?”

“Fever” I just whisper.

“What are you ?” he asks with an innocent voice.

And, in my fever disarray, I finally answer.

“I don’t know.”

             When I open my eyes, the light hurts me bad. A hand is on my head.

“She’s dying of infection, Dean” a familiar voice says.

“A bullet between her eyes and we put her out of her misery. End of the story” I hear the almost comforting voice of Dean answer.

Honestly I don’t have enough energy to care what they decide.

“She didn’t finish me off Dean, she even tried to heal me…”

“What ? Are you crazy ? Sam ! I just spent a week watching you slowly die after she stabbed and shot you ! Now what ? You want me to feel sorry for that thing ?”

“She didn’t shoot me…” Sam says pushing my hair to see the wound on my forehead.

“YES SHE DID !” Dean yells.

“Ketch shot me… How could you be so cruel Dean !” he changes subject. “Look at her ! This is torture and pure cruelty, we are not this kind of person Dean !”

“What ! I can’t…” his brother answers with so much anger in his voice I almost can see his pissed face in my head.

            Then there is only flashes.

Water in my mouth.

Water on my wounds.

The smell of alcohol.

Jack’s voice asking Sam if I’m a monster.

Sam answering he’s not so sure about that.

The cold easing.

The pain easing.

Dark then light.

Then dark.

Sam’s voice trying to catch my attention.

Dean yelling.

The smell of soup.

And Dean yelling again.

  Dean’s Pov

             Sam is still barely talking to me and I just can’t get over how pissed I am.

            With Sam taking care of the monster that almost killed him for good, Jack asking how she’s doing, Cas too, Donna calling Sam to talk about her… It’s like I was the monster. And If Bobby wasn’t there to suggest cutting her throat for good, I would feel like I was the one loosing my damn mind.

            My phone rings and I sigh, putting my glass on the table. I look at the name on the screen : Ketch.

Until now, I never answered his calls, because I was too busy trying to save my brother, but now I have questions to ask him.

“Ketch”

“Dean. I was starting to think she got you too. How is Sam ?”

“Better. He’ll need time to fully heal, but he woke up” I say looking at my glass.

“Oh… I see. And the girl ? Did you burn the body already ? I’m going to need a proof of her death” he says with a hint of badly hidden anxiety.

“She’s not dead. Sam insists in keeping…”

“WHAT !” he cuts me, making me jump and widen my eyes. “Dean you have to kill her right now. Listen carefully : You’re in danger, your brother is in danger…”

“I don’t know Ketch, maybe I have more questions to ask her, like did she really shoot Sam ? Because he says you did…” I grunt.

“Don’t be a fool. This creature is the most clever, dangerous thing I’ve seen. She’s messing with your heads. You have to kill her before she makes you lay into each other.”

I lower my eyes, thinking. At this moment Sam comes out of the donjon and looks in my direction. He has a tray in his hands and I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right” I say. “I’ll have to convince Sam.”

“Screw convincing, you have to defend your family” he states.

I frown. Ketch doesn’t care about family at all, or about us for that matters. Why is he so impatient to see her dead. I mean, he lost a lot of colleagues from her hands but…

I just can’t think straight lately.

            A muffled sound catches my attention. Sitting on my bed, I listen carefully. What if she escaped ? Another sound. The clock says 4am.

            I get up and take the gun under my pillow, walking silently toward the dungeon. The door’s not perfectly closed, I push it with precaution and prepare to shoot her.

            She’s lying on the floor, bloody.

Ketch is sitting on her, beating her with full force. Her dirty clothes are ripped open, he carved something, an enochian symbol, on her chest. For a second I can’t move.

           Her head turns toward me and she sees me but doesn’t react, obediently waiting for death. Her eyes trigger something in me, and it’s like time was in slow motion. I lift my gun and her hands open on the side of her body as Ketch hits her again. He lifts his knife above her heart and mutters “I win. We win, Y/n.”

            I shoot him in the back. Twice. Thrice.

           His body falls on hers, shaking an instant and freezing completely. She closes her eyes, a tear rolling on her bruised face.

           Sam comes running, alerted by gunshots, followed by Jack. I just don’t move, not knowing what to do.

           My brother runs to her, kneels, and pushes Ketch’s corps aside. Looking at him I squeeze my gun and hear his voice saying she’ll rise us up against one another. Then I look at her bloody bruised form in Sam’s arm and I wonder how a girl so pretty and cute can attract so much violent hate.

           Sam takes his t-shirt off to cover her naked chest and the fabric becomes bloody. He looks at me.

“What happened ?” he asks, holding her.

“He was about to kill her” I just say muddled, looking at her pained face.

She clings to Sam, crying silently and, all of a sudden, that leash I tied around her neck seems so tight, I can almost feel it harm my own flesh.

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx

(Tags are open)

[ivyfics]

With Me - Chap 5

Even as an alive person, Tetsurou wasn’t easy to live with. He knows that much at least, fleeting memories of frustration and roommate agreements floating around his head.

Not much has improved with him as a not-alive person either.

Read on AO3

Pairing: KuroTsuki Rating: M Chaps: 5/? (May change in the future) Additional Tags: Ghost!Kuroo, Haunted!Tsukishima, Tiniest bit of crack, Future angst.

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“You are not walking out that door wearing that. Absolutely not.” Tetsurou floats, hands on his hips. Works on learning how to give someone the evil eye.

“Can you hear that?” Kei pauses, hand stilling where he’s tying his shoes. He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes straining to hear. “It’s me, not caring.”

Kuroo is used to Kei being an absolute little shit by now, so he only scoffs. “You have such a nice ass and you waste it–squander it!–on ill-fitting garments. What has your ass ever done to you? Don’t you fucking grab those shoes!”

Kei pointedly ignores him, sliding his feet in, retying his already perfectly secure shoelaces. He’s a bunny-ears type of guy and it makes it worse for Kei to be ignoring him on purpose while making bunny ears with his laces.

Tetsurou shimmers close, unties the other one side, and starts tying it again, no bunny ears on sight.  Kei tries to bat at him. “Don’t micromanage me. Go away!”

Tetsurou swerves before Kei can make contact and when he’s a safe distance away from Kei’s long arms, he pulls on the end of the hoodie’s string until it’s uneven.

Tetsurou hates that thing. Loathes it. “I’ll burn that thing!”

“Excuse me!?” Kei tightens the knot with deliberate force. “I get no respect in this house. This is my place! I pay rent!”

That feels like an unfair shot, Tetsurou has never had to pay rent because he doesn’t live here (Or at all, really.) “Yeah, well, I was here first.”

“You bitch.”

“Asshat.”

Kei’s alarm goes off and he pulls himself away from their squabble. “I’m going to be late today.”

Wednesdays are study group sessions for Kei. He gets home and immediately dives into bed until Tetsurou pesters him to at least change into pajamas. On the days where he’s especially annoying, he might get Kei to have a snack before bed. “Play nice with your study group. Take off your earphones once in a while, talk to another human being.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

“Don’t forget to eat if it’s getting late. Have a power break. Keep hydrated!”

“Yes, Mom. ” Kei walks away, middle finger high in the air.

Tetsurou doesn’t know it yet, but he started a war that day.

Even as an alive person, Tetsurou wasn’t easy to live with. He knows that much at least, fleeting memories of frustration and roommate agreements floating around his head.

Not much has improved with him as a not-alive person either. He’s nosy and too loud sometimes, he doesn’t hold his thoughts when he should. It’s not surprising that there are, occasionally, consequences to him being himself.

But this? This is going over the line.

Kei’s made a game of it, after their little spat last week. He’s turned it into slow, drawn-out torture. Taken all of the minuscule malice that lives in his gigantic body and poured it into the most miserable punishment.

Kei walks out of the bathroom already dressed. He comes out and stands, just stands, hands in his pockets, and manufactured aloofness radiating from his every pore.

Kuroo stills.

He looks once, twice, and gasps. “I don’t hate it. I don’t hate you in that. This is a mistake.”

There’s glee somewhere in Kei's expression. Hidden underneath all those layers of smugness and superiority, Kei is happy Tetsurou likes how he looks, he’s sure of it.

Maybe.

Maybe Tetsurou has finally lost the last marble he didn’t know he still had.

Kei is wearing what Tetsurou would consider the most obnoxious bright yellow tracksuit and he looks… so fucking good. Like Good good.

Like ‘Tetsurou might have tried to pick him up in a past life’ good. It’s slouchy and baggy and cool, somehow, matching to a tee with Kei’s pre-sleep vibe. The one that makes his eyes heavy and half-lidden and his expression slack. His limbs are leaden heavy and every move is set half a step slower.

It makes Tetsurou feel weird. Fizzy.  He doesn’t know how to cope with it. “I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick,” Kei fires back. “You’re a ghost, you can’t get sick”

Tetsurou stammers. He feels off and Kei makes something inside him turn. He doesn't like turning, wants no part of it, no siree. He’s sick . “Oh, how do you know that, Mr.Ghost-Expert?”

“Can you get sick?” Kei's tone is mockingly bland.

“I don't know. What if this is ghost sick? Could I re-die? Like dead but a deeper level of dead.”

Kei’s eyes go nearly white with his exaggerated eye roll. Tetsurou half wants to smack him and half wants to run away and hide in between the walls for thirteen eons.

Kei gets home late one evening, walks in, drops everything, and stands in the middle of this kitchen. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Do you have to?“ Kei pleads. “Is there nothing else you could do?”

Tetsurou doesn’t pay attention to him at all, engrossed in his show.“What?"

"Kuroo."

Kei’s tone has him turning to see him.

Ah.

Tetsurou shrugs. “Pretend I am a cat. Accept my quirks with grace and a little loss of dignity.”

Kei closes his eyes, defeated, for a moment. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.“Cats don’t crawl on walls.”

Tetsurou doesn’t move from his perch on the wall beside the window. “Only because of physics.”

“I could have lived somewhere else. Rented the other apartment. It smelled like mothballs, old pizza, and weed.”

“Uh-huh.”

Kei carries on, voice warping with his trek to the bedroom. “‘ This one is cheaper ’, I said. ‘ What’s a little ghost now and again’ , I thought?”

Tetsurou lets him be. “Fucked yourself over with that one my friend. Ghost time is all the time.”

Rain, this far up, is soundless. A soft cushion from the everyday noises that reach them from the outside, a barrier sprinkling from the sky. Rain falls.

Storms rage. They are loud winds beating against the side of buildings, announcing their violence with gusts like fists that carry darts of raindrops and shuddering cries of thunder. Unignorable.

Alive.

Tetsurou sighs, contented. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

The storm hasn’t disturbed Kei’s reading against the couch. He’s one of those people who shift, hasn’t been able to be still in one place while devouring pages. He started on the couch, sitting against the arm. He’s on the floor now, sitting with his legs crossed on the second-hand rug his brother sent him in the mail. It doesn’t go very well with the rest of the room with its odd orange circles and green lines, but a rug is a rug and the shabby hair looks soft, even if it’s worn in places.

Kei burned through half of his book since before the storm became one and at this pace, he’ll be done before bedtime. “I thought you liked it when it was sunny?”

He does. He very much does love to gorge on sun until he’s drunk. Storms have that same vitality, energy pouring out of the sky and beating itself against concrete and glass. “I like sunny days and storms. Rain is very middle ground. Overcast is neither here nor there so I don’t like those very much.”  It’s quite poetic, really, seeing as Tetsurou is the embodiment of neither here nor there.Maybe it’s just sad. He’d rather think it’s poetic. “I love storms.”

Kei hums in agreement. Someday Tetsurou will learn how he can make even a hum sound patronizing. “Of course you do. Isn’t it like ghost law?”

“What?”

“It starts storming, and out come the creepy ghosts to murder everyone?”

Tetsurou sputters, offended. “I am not a creepy murder ghost. I’m a cute, helpful ghost.”

Kei almost chokes on the scoff that comes out of him. “Sure.”

Tetsurou is about to refute with a ten-point list of why he is a cute, helpful ghost before he’s interrupted by a flash of light, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that plunges them into darkness.

Kei lowers his book to his lap, throws a mildly annoyed glance at the speckled window. He looks up at the ceiling when he’s bored of watching rain hit the window. Let’s out a deep, bored sigh when there’s nothing else to do. “So. What tricks do you have?”

“Tricks”

Kei doesn’t even look at him. “Yeah. Ghost things. Spooky stuff. Tricks. ”

“I'm not a dog.”

“I wish you were a dog.”

Tetsurou smirks. Kei is not ready for this. This is his moment. Finally, he's going to scare Kei shitless and win this thing. He focuses on Kei, on the way he looks around, his human eyes finally getting used to the drastic shift in lighting. He’s relaxed, at ease with the noise and the thunder. Lightning strikes at a distance, it’s light faint through the sheets of water. It sets Kei’s face alight for a moment, bouncing off his glasses and Tetsurou admires his penchant for timing by releasing his question straight into Kei’s head exactly at that moment. What kind of dog?

Kei's shoulders go up with a jump, a choked gasp. His head swings forward with a jerk to look at Tetsurou.

Tetsurou riots. Just gives it all in one big evil villain laugh. Finally!

“Not funny.”

“ Au contraire , my friend, t’was very funny.”

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh, you know, a little creepy murder ghost action.”

Kei rubs at his temple. “So you can just talk into people’s heads. That’s neat. Just great.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked for tricks.”

“If you can do that then why do you talk normally?”

Tetsurou shrugs.

He doesn't want to forget what it feels like to have a conversation, even with himself, to talk out loud. Losing words feels like losing more humanity. He doesn’t want to forego words for thoughts but Kei doesn’t need to know that.  “It’s a bit rude, talking into people’s heads all the time.”

“Fair point,” Kei concedes with a nod, always one for politeness. It takes him thirty seconds to break from pretending he doesn’t want to know. His tongue clicks on his teeth, mild tone betraying the twitching of the hand not holding his book, thumb jammed on the page he was reading. He seems to notice he’s still holding it and places next to his knee after gently folding down a corner. “So, what else can you do?”

“Other than that, not much that you haven’t already seen.”

“Can you make other people see you?”

Kei looks at him, dissecting his expression. Tetsurou doesn’t know what he’s looking for but being on the end of Kei scrutiny always makes him antsy. “Uh, haven’t really tried?”

That is a lie, a bold-faced lie he hopes Kei doesn’t catch.

Of course, he’s tried. He tried, and tried and tried. It never worked. Nobody saw him. Nobody listened to him.

Nobody but Kei.

There are other things Tetsurou can do.

He can be solid but not for long. It drains him until he loses his shape and starts to phase through things unwittingly, making him feel as if there were two tons of bricks weighing him down for a while. He had to learn how to stop going through shit. It was so annoying, trying to grab onto something and going through it instead.

To make himself solid is not to return to his body. It’s not summoning a physical copy. Tetsurou is not flesh and blood. It is to steel the rawness of the entity that he is, pure unadulterated energy. Create a case around it, add weight but still feels like a ghost.

Thankfully, Kei doesn’t catch on and moves along. “Can you possess things? Make the couch cushion possessed?”

“Objects are a different thing. You see me move shit around all the time.”

“But is it like...Telepathically?”

Kei has been curious about it for a while, Tetsurou can guess, hearing the hidden excitement in his voice. “Yes. No. More like, a magnet, I guess?”

Tetsurou basically tapes the energy coming off of him to the energy left behind on objects until he can move them. Objects don’t particularly feel anything but if it’s a big object Tetsurou will feel very icky so he tries to avoid doing all of these things at all costs.

Then he opens his big mouth and gives Kei unsolicited information. “For humans, it feels wrong.”

It’s the best he can come up with to describe it.  The energy of living human people is a cobweb of light surrounding them and what they touch. Strings upon strings of energy spooled together and slowly unraveling on all the things they come in contact with. Kei’s are a mix of—as a big Fuck you! to Tetsurou himself– yellow and orange, with some shiny black coming through very rarely.

He hates human strings. Every time he’s run through them even on accident it’s thrown him for a loop straight into hell. Minus zero out of ten, would definitely not recommend.

Kei gives him a look, a full one, with pursed lips and thinking eyebrows.

Tetsurou sighs. “You want to feel, don’t you?”

He nods. “I wanna feel.”

“Dude, it’s going to feel bad. Like, Awful bad.”

Kei juts out his hand, unphased. Tetsurou reluctantly brings his own hand forward, slowly, to give Kei a chance to change his mind. He doesn’t. The tip of Tetsurou’s finger glides over the top of Kei’s palm, phases through the barest amount, and a shock runs through his arm. Kei pulls away first and stares at his hand, runs the fingers of his free hand over the spot Tetsurou touched over and over.

He trips over his words trying to get them out. “It's like ice but more.”

“That’s...pretty accurate actually.” The freezing cold of the universe doesn’t solely belong to the void of endless black among the stars. For Tetsurou it’s frost burn, menthol invading his nose and his chest until he’s sure he’ll shatter.

“How?”

“As you know, there is not much material in the So now you’re transparent department, but I’ve thought about this a lot, so I think I have it down.”

He appreciates Kei’s restraint at the lack of an eye roll, but even in the dark, he can sense the twitch in Kei’s eyelid. “I think people who are compatible just have compatible energy. That spark everyone talks about. Some people aren’t so it feels icky.”

Kei does not appreciate his scientific breakthrough. “What?”

He rewinds a couple of steps. “Energy transfers through touch. It’s why it feels… icky to touch people. Alive people, I mean. For me. I—It’s not meant for me anymore. I’m different so it feels weird. It’s not compatible energy so you feel the oddness. Things—like the walls and stuff—they get charged with the energy of the stuff around them. Your bed, the counter, all of that.”

“My bed?”

“Yeah, your bed has your strings all over it.”

“That sounds so wrong,” Kei shudders out and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. The rain has picked up, drowning out everything else but the two of them, enveloped in the shadows of Kei’s books and the peek of moonlight valiantly sailing through the storm, reaching past the windows to die on the floorboards. A brave, silent death, beaten down by the sound of the wind slapping raindrops against glass. It’s a painting, a vignette of quiet.

Kei’s breathing is even, not daring to disturb the storm raging outside. “Hmm. Tell me more about these...strings I apparently leave all over my bed.”

Tetsurou matches the sound as best he can. He’s guessing at the volume, imagines his vocal cords in his mind’s eyes, and wills them to be calm. “Over everything, really. Just by being around it, it becomes a little more yours. It soaks up who you are, how you feel.”

“Everything should be yours, then,” Kei says, “since you’re here all the time.”

Tetsurou doesn’t leave anything behind. He doesn’t own anything anymore, really, other than what is left of him, his thoughts and his words; but Kei is happy and content with that lazy smile of his he’s probably not aware he’s showing and Tetsurou is not in the business of making Kei unhappy. He’ll be the scary, creepy ghost that owns Kei's apartment and that comes out during thunderstorms.

He laughs it off and they talk for hours and hours in low voices and hushed tones while water beats around them and Tetsurou expressly does not dwell on how much he wishes he could leave something of himself behind in their shared four walls, or own something inside the apartment other than his thoughts.

Bladder pressing down on his need for sleep, Kei crawls out of bed, hands smudging his glasses. If he’d exert the effort of putting them on properly he wouldn’t have walked into a wall, but you live and you learn. Halfway to the bathroom, he stops. The window is open, curtain fluttering with sporadic gusts of wind.

Were he someone else, he’d think of stories of spirits and things from the great beyond told in the dark.

On the windowsill is Kuroo, face lax, and centered on faraway worlds. The ink of his hair blends with the shade of the almost raggedy navy fabric, shoulders slumped and curled where he hugs a single knee against his chest.

Save for now, Kuroo has always looked alive.

Splashes of moonlight dance on his skin, bursts aided by the blowing breeze, light on ivory.

Kei is half asleep, surely, to think that whatever ethereal being is perched on his windowsill is made of the same energy as the bumbling nerd leaving obscene drawings on his mirror.

Whoever, whatever it is, they are filled with melancholy seeping through their form, pools of something beyond Kei’s ability to comprehend with his sleep-addled mind in the half-lidded gaze peering up at the moon.

Kei goes back to his room with slow steps, lays back on the bed, bathroom break forgotten. Slumber pulls him back, witching hour casting a veil of untruth to his late-night sightseeing until he wakes an hour later, bladder screaming.

When Kei wakes next, fully, late night memories are cast as fleeting dreams that manage to escape him in the rays of sunshine now slanting through his blinds, body tangled up underneath covers and a blanket of something close to sadness on his shoulders.

Kei’s missing something, he knows.

It follows him when brushing his teeth, when he drops his toast butter-side down on the floor when he steps on gum on his way to class. He doesn’t have a clue what it might be.

The next couple of nights find him sleepless.

Kei tosses and turns until he gives up, flinching when his feet meet cold tile. He slumps to the living room defeated and wanting company to distract him from his lack of sleep.

Instead, he’s met with a specter.

The odd wave that chokes him is déjà vu , he knows, but the once useless factoid of its opposite lives within that moment too. A new friend with an old face, twisted and blended in mismatching, perfectly fitting parts, stumbling into an unknown place for the millionth time.

Jamais vu has never made sense until it has.  

Kuroo doesn’t register his presence at all.

He’s torn between calling out for comfort and breaking the spell that has fallen over them silently.

One more look at Kuroo and he’s set.

Kei’s sheets are as unforgiving as when he first rose.

[mioriia]

二 | Chapter 2 | Arc 0.2

The Wandering Maiden | Chapter 2

❝𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟'𝕤 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕤❞

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The moment I gain consciousness once again, a sudden jolts of pain strike throughout my spine instantly as I groan, frustrated with the results of the situation.

My eyes slowly flutters, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in a blur once I gain consciousness, blinking a few times, trying to gain focus on my surroundings.

The wooden ceiling was the first thing that caught my attention once my vision was sharpen, it was only then that I realized I was laying in a futon with a wet cloth placed on my forehead. The room is covered in complete darkness meaning it's still night time.

Wait, what happened?

Where did that guy go?

Why am I doing here for-

❝Are you alright?❞

I almost choked on air when a cute voice reached my ears, I slowly turn my head to the doorway where the source of lights was and I was met with a pair of soft aqua orbs. She has shoulders-length black hair and she was wearing a floral pattern kimono underneath a black sleeveless jacket.

❛Even her appearance is cute...❜

I didn't sense any danger vibes from her instead all I felt was a kind heart from the way she was smiling in a dreamy way. She seems so mysterious... I love her already.

❝Y-yes! My lower b-back kinda h-hurts but I think I can h-handle it❞

I didn't want to be rude especially she seems to be really nice girl and first impression is a good way to make friends after all! Though my voice cracked at the end and my throat hurts in the process, its feel so dry as if it was fries like a fried chicken.

I held my lips to tone it down however, it's get worse and worse than before as my coughing session continues to torture the heck of my beloved throat that's starts to sting a little.

The girl who I haven't learn her name yet call out to someone but I didn't pay attention to it before she excuse herself to get some water and her teacher, her footsteps were small and light as a feather if I was a normal human then it's would have go unnoticed.

However, I wasn't. I hope they won't found out immedietely or else it's won't end well, an evil being like me doesn't deserve the kindness of those who we called as humans.

Weather they're good or bad, demons are nothing but evil spirits who possess, tricks, kill and make deals with humans just to take their souls away once the time is up. I feel disgusted how I am one of them, a descendant of a demon with its blood flowing through my veins making me unacceptable by those who are loved by gods.

What's frustrates me more that I can't even remember a single about my existence, the only thing remained is the fact I'm a Kishino.

Wait a minute-

I widen my eyes in realization, raising my hand on my forehead ❛Where did I learn that from?❜

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「Third Person's POV」

While the young girl was confused with the new information, she failed to notice the girl from before was now standing in front of her with a tray contains a whole tea set roughly enough for six people before kneeling down next to the younger girl which causes her to snap out of it, turns to face the older girl.

❝O-Oh, sorry for s-spacing out just n-now...❞

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment while the older one smiles sweetly towards her as she pours some water into the cups before giving one to the brunette which she politely took it, thanking her along the way.

❝You don't need to apologize, you were bleeding so much when we found you❞

❝E-Eh? Really? Thank you so much for helping me...❞

❝You should thanks Giyuu for that, he was the one who brought you to us❞

❝Giyuu?❞

As if on cue, the ravenette female turn her attention towards the side. Her sudden actions confused the young one at the first few seconds before her pale blue orbs caught the shadows which resembles a human's, slowly glancing up in curiosity.

An elder individual with a tengu mask stood by the door and a young boy with peach colored locks of hair, reaching below his shoulders. A large scar is located near his mouth, his blueish grey eyes looks strong and calm as another young boy clings to him from behind, clearly seems to be afraid as he held his friend's clothes.

His medium length, messy black hair tied back into a low ponytail and his dark blue eyes caught the attention of the brunette girl who kept on staring at him intensely and this made the young boy shy away, hiding behind the other boy's back which made the girl blinked twice at his actions.

❝Giyuu is really shy, I hope you get along with him❞ the ravenette girl whispered to her when she notices how lost she was.

❛So, he is Giyuu... His shyness is pretty adorable❜ the brunette thought, smiling to herself.

❝Uhh... Giyuu-san?❞

By the sound of his name being called, he slowly raises his head from the taller boy's back as a signal that he's listening.

❝Thank you for saving me back then if you didn't find me, I would be a goner by now❞

Her eyes closed as her lips went upward, smiling kindly towards the boy, secretly telling him that she would do no harm to him which he slightly calm down, relaxing his body as he stammered his response to hers.

❝I only did what was right...Saving people who need help is one of the qualities of a demon slayer❞

The moment she heard these lines, she felt the coldness of her heart start functioning on its own, beating at a normal pace which resembles a normal heartbeat of a person.

❛Oh my gosh... This human boy is so precious...❜

That was the first time, she felt her own heart. All because of a human boy's kindness touched the cold core, enough to give her warmth.

A warmth that she never knew felt so good inside of her.

A warmth that she wants to embrace it for as long as she lives.

A warmth that she swore to protect.

This is the spark of the fiery fire burning deep in the core of a demon's soul.

❝W-What are you doing?!❞

❝Hugging you of course, Giyu-san!❞

❝But you're i-injured!❞

... Well let's just say that a small tomato was born in the end due to the embarrassment of his comrades laughing at his poor attempts of stopping the brunette.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

[themfchase]

negotiation (m) pt II

Jeon Jungkook x reader

negotiation. (m) ✎  [6k words] genre: smut, NSFW, boss!au  warnings: dirty talk, explicit sex, oral (receiving), dom jungkook? dirtbag jungkook. just be prepared.   part 3 

description: Jeon Jungkook was the worst boss you could ask for. But what happens when you two bump into each other at a fundraiser your very wealthy family - who you don’t want people to know about - is throwing?  

A/N: Part two is finally here yall, sorry it took so long. Lemme know what you guys think and please, if there are any mistakes too. K? k. Kisses, bye. 

masterlist.

When you woke up the next morning to the sound of your alarm, you immediately felt your body hurt. Your head started pounding and you lifted your hand to massage your temple, you moved a little and felt a weird ache in your core and your eyes shot open. ‘Oh my God.’ You thought as you remembered your encounter with your boss at your parent's fundraiser. ‘OH MY GOD’. You felt panic start to flood you as you covered your face with both hands. You couldn’t believe yourself. You had fucked your disgusting, evil, rude, fucker of a boss. And worse, it had been so fucking good. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’ you cursed yourself over and over again, as you got out of bed and into the shower. You thought about what you would say, or how you would act. He would be professional, wouldn’t he? Or he’ll just be more of a dick and use it against you. You shook your head, wanting anything else than to go to work on Monday. But then again, he had said you’d be taking his place. Was he lying? Did you still have your job? You were so confused and sore. When you got out of the shower, you checked your phone. 4 missed calls. You called the unknown number and as soon as they answered you regretted calling. ‘Where the fuck are you? I have to announce your new position, you’re late!’ Late? It was Sunday, how were you late? Jungkook spat on the other side of the phone. ‘Come quickly, I’ll have a driver pick you up, oh...  were something nice and easy to take off.’ You could hear his smirk through the phone. You were speechless, you’re mouth open in surprise. ‘Wait, what?’ You asked as soon as you realized what he had said about what you should wear. ‘Fuck, Y/N, you’re taking my place, remember? Do you even want this promotion? You’re not just working from Monday to Friday if you want this.’ He asked, annoyance flooding his words. ‘No, not that... you want me to wear something easy to take off? Are you serious?’ You asked. He couldn’t be serious about the whole ‘fuck you when I please’ thing, that was just dirty talk, wasn’t it? ‘Yes. Please, pay attention. I don’t like repeating myself.’ He sounded so arrogant you wanted to hit your phone. ‘Jungkook, we’re not fucking again, you can’t be serious.’ You said firmly. Your towel hanging on your body. ‘Yes, I am. And we are... In my new office, over the table, so please, do as I say.’ And he hung up. Your eyes were wide open, as you stared at your phone. He was delusional if he thought you’d be sleeping with him again. Not in a million years. Not now that you were sober, and thinking straight. As you chose what to wear, you couldn’t help but scoff at the idea of doing what Jungkook had asked of you. You selected a black Chanel dress, stockings, and stilettos. A part of you wondered if you chose a dress to make it easier for him, but the other reassured, you had chosen stockings so it wouldn’t be. You shook off the thought of doing whatever he thought you two would do and dried your hair, applying makeup next. When you’re intercom buzzed you looked trough the little screen that showed the front door and you saw a man in a suit with black glasses on. It was the driver Jungkook had said he would send you.  You got your bag and made you’re way down to the entrance of your luxury loft building. As you greeted the driver that had a stern face, you smiled weakly, and he opened the door for you, you didn’t even look inside and as soon as he closed the door you jumped out of surprise.  ‘For someone as rich as I imagine you are, you sure live in a simple place.’ Jungkook said without looking away from his phone as he was surely working.  You scoffed and regained your composure as you looked away from him.  ‘If I wanted people to know I was filthy rich, I would live with my parents in that 13 room Mansion.’ You argued and he finally looked away from his phone to look back at you.  ‘Ah... It refreshes me to see you aren't wearing one of those hideous pantsuits.’ He stated as he looked you up and down.  ‘Well, I never knew I had to dress up like a Victoria Secret model to work at an office.’ He annoyed you so much. Of course, he was amazing in sex, very good looking and yes... You couldn’t deny his dedication to work even if most of the time he made you do fifty percent of it.  ‘I tried to understand why you omitted who you were, but somehow that does not make sense to me.’ He changed subjects yet again looking out the window. He sounded so formal, so different from yesterday, from this morning on the phone.  ‘I wanted to do something for myself, get somewhere by my own efforts and not because my father is someone important... well, too late for that now.’ You looked down at your hand on your lap, clearly uncomfortable, there was no need to lie to him, not with the fact he knew who you were.  ‘If it makes you feel any better... There is a slight percentage of my decision that was based on your capacity, but then again... If I didn’t find out yesterday, I wouldn’t have looked at you twice for the position.’ He admitted with no shame or unease in his voice.  You rolled your eyes at his pettiness, he was just like the rest of them, just the interest and no passion at all.  ‘Carter, you can pick us up in about an hour and take us to the office.’ Jungkook said to his driver, the man in the front just nodded and in two minutes the car stopped in front of a Hotel.  Carter went all the way around to open the door for you, and as a good rich kid raised with all these little privileges, you waited as he did so.  When you got out, Jungkook came right after as you walked inside the lobby of the expensive hotel and was greeted by two bus boys in gold, red and white uniforms.  ‘Mr. Jeon, it’s very nice to see you again, the council is already waiting in the usual conference room.’ Said one of the bus boys and Jungkook just nodded, not even looking at the boy. You smiled at them and thanked them as you followed inside and made your way to the elevators.  Inside, Jungkook presses the top floor and you waited as the elevator made its way.  It suddenly hit you, you were being announced as the new CEO of Youth Winder Inc. The butterflies in your stomach started flapping their wings insistingly and you felt nervous. You didn’t even notice Jungkook was eyeing you.  ‘I thought I told you to wear something easy to take off.’ He said with irritation in his voice. You looked up at him.  ‘And I said we are not fucking, Jungkook... Forget it.’ You straightened your dress and tried to look confident as the elevator approached the floor.  ‘You keep saying that, but I’ll be taking those clothes off very soon.’ There was a hint of fun in his voice that made a spark hit your core, you shook it off, this was all a chase for him and that made you even more irritated.  ‘Well, good thing I’m wearing stockings.’ You said, trying to win the whole bickering war.  ‘Oh... Don’t worry, they’re very easy to rip off.’ Jungkook looked at you with fire in his eyes that made your whole body shiver and you heard the ring of the elevator announcing you had reached the top floor. Jungkook got out as soon as the doors opened and you lingered for a while, trying to hide the absolute irritation that flooded your body.  As Jungkook opened the door to the conformance room you took in the beautiful view of the city as part of the room was made of glass that went from the ceiling to the floor.  ‘Gentlemen, Ladies...’ Junkook started and you acknowledged the 3 people inside the very large room, seated on the couches and one standing with a glass of expensive bourbon in his hands.  ‘I am very sorry we are late, our hard working Y/N was at the office still trying to fix some problems we had this month.’ He lied. Why was he doing that? Was he trying to convince them that choosing you was a good idea? Was he not sure you were fit for the job and in the end... This was all out of interest? You knew you were good, you knew how hard you had worked despite the way he treated you, you would not let him lie to convince the council this was a good idea as they waited for you to fail.  ‘Are you fucking her?’ Said a younger gentleman, one that was standing behind the couch with bourbon in his hand. Your eyes widened a little at the very rude and straightforward comment. Jungkook laughed and shook his head, pinching the space between his nose and taking in a deep breath.  ‘Namjoon, there is no need for pettiness.’ Said the other one that was seated with his legs crossed.  ‘Well, Jin, you can’t blame me, when has Jungkook tried to sell an idea with little lies like the one he just told us?’ He argued then looked back at me. ‘Don’t worry sweetheart, you can go back to being a receptionist after this, we won't blame you.’  You swallowed the burning rage that started building up inside you as they spoke of and at you with such disrespect, you took a deep breath and you saw Jungkook open his mouth to speak, but you were faster than him.  ‘Well, Mr. Kim, I’m sorry you think of me that way, but as a matter of fact, I am keen to inform the members of the council that as of Thursday, we have found that we can decrease the price of the land we want to bye in India Ferrero, giving that it used to be taken by a toxic wast company by at least 19%, and I know for a fact that we are down by 7% in market Stocks, and turning that land into a clean energy sight, our market value will increase significantly, if my calculations are right, about 9%, the only problem we had as of right now was convincing the owner of the land to sell it to us, and that will no longer be a problem.’ You finished your speech and Jungkook shot a look at you.  ‘It won't?’ He asked with surprise in his voice.  ‘No, it won't, and if you paid attention to any of the files and contracts I asked Emma to bring to you, you would have known that.’ You glanced at him.  It was silent for a moment and Namjoon spoke again.  ‘I change my mind, I like her.’ He laughed shortly, taking another sip of his drink.  Jungkook exhaled in annoyance and looked back at the group of people.  ‘As you can see, I’m pretty sure I made a good choice.’ He said and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself.  ‘If anyone has the courage to speak to you like that, then I’m pretty sure they’re fit for the job.’ Said the woman who you identified by Sun, she was one of the oldest in the council. ‘Yes, and to top it all off, Mr. Y/L/N...’ You knew what he was doing, he was exposing you and you knew that the council now aware of your family it wasn’t a matter of you being good at your job or not, but what you would offer. ‘Is keen to help us with investors, being her father one of them.’  Everyone in the room straightened their bodies, it wasn’t just the fact that your father was rich enough to buy the whole company, but that he was important, someone with influence, and by investing and having a percentage of the company, that would open enough doors that would make it skyrocket it’s way in the market of clean energy, becoming the biggest.  ‘Is he interested?’ Asked Jin calmly. ‘I’m sure he will be, with the proper presentation of what income he would make of it, of course.’ You said truly. Your father loved you, of course, and he would do it just for you, but you didn’t want that, you wanted him to see potential in the company, and now that the council knew there was an opportunity for him to invest, you would have to do everything in your efforts to make it happen.  Everyone nodded, all lost in the idea of having someone like your father as a partner, you decided to say something about it.  ‘But... Do not get the wrong idea. He is my father, but I will not use my influence as his daughter to get him to participate in the shares, I will do my job as CEO and as I know I am completely capable of it, he will surely accept.’ Everyone looked at you, including Jungkook, a nervous look on his face.  ‘That is very admirable of you, Y/N.’ Said Jin again.  And with handshakes and a signed contract after another fifteen minutes off small talk and a very playful apology from Namjoon, you were out of the door in no time, irritation and anger building up inside you.  This was what you wanted, you wanted this job, the trouble of it, the headache, but you also wanted it differently. But the way they had treated you before was simply a turnoff, and you just needed to go home. You didn’t even notice Jungkook walking beside you until he spoke.  ‘Very impressive.’ He said with a low voice. Almost as if he were irritated as well. You were mad at him, mad at the council, mad at yourself.  ‘Fuck off, Jungkook.’ You said pressing the button of the elevator several times as if that would make it come faster.  ‘I will...’ He said with malice in his voice. You looked at him with disbelief, is he still thinking you two were gonna fuck?  ‘Why do you keep thinking that I am going to fuck you again, Jungkook? Can’t you take a hint?’ You were panting now.  ‘Because we made a deal, my end has just happened.’ He answered, leaning against the wall next to the elevator and putting his hands in his pocket.  ‘Deal?! What deal, Jungkook? You were fucking me and I was drunk, I would have agreed to anything at that moment.’ You said crossing your arms and waiting for the elevator.  ‘I should have taken advantage of that then, maybe make you bring me coffee too.’ He said.  That was it, you had it, just like the moment in the office on Friday, you were done with him.  ‘Listen close... I hate you with every fiber of me, I dislike you to a point where if you were to die I wouldn’t even care, so leave me alone, don’t speak to me unless it is about work and work only.’ You spat at him and he looked as if that was only serving as fuel to his fire.  ‘Baby, don’t get me wrong, I hate your spoiled ass just as much... But I can’t deny you turn me on, while you were giving that little speech of yours, all I wanted to do was throw you against one of those couches and fuck you harder than before.’  You couldn’t help but feel the heat the was concentrating in the middle of your body from his words and the pet name, you couldn’t take your eyes off his lustful ones, he eyed your body, licking his lips when they came back to yours.  ‘You’re fucking crazy.’ You managed to say as your heart raced.  ‘Tell me you didn’t like it.’ He asked with dare in his eyes.  You looked back at the elevator, unable to lie to him since you knew he would see right through it. You didn’t notice when he moved, standing behind you.  ‘Tell me you didn’t like my hands on you.’ Your body jumped at the surprise of his voice so close behind you. ‘Even better tell me you hated them on you.” His voice was full of lust, full of want. ‘N-No, I’m not answering that.’ You said, clearly affected by his proximity. You would not amuse him.  You felt his breath against your neck and you felt your body shiver, all the hairs sticking out.  ‘Say you hated the way I felt inside you, say it.’ He said, his hand brushing your arm slightly. Your body was on fire, you could feel the ache in your core, the memory of how good he felt, how fast he made you cum, how intense and absolutely delicious it felt.  ‘No.’ Your voice was but a whisper. You wanted him, even though you hated him, your body was begging for him, and you just couldn’t deny it.  ‘Why?’ He asked, pushing your hair to the side, his lips brushing your skin. You just couldn’t move and you melted into him.  ‘I can’t.’ You said, he finally pushed your body to his, his bulge already hard against you. It amused you how you turned him on, the feeling of his erection making you extremely hot. ‘Can’t what?’ His voice was so low and sexy, it made you feel the humidity start to take place between your legs. ‘I-I can’t lie.’ You felt his smirk against your neck and you bucked your hips backwards, pressing against his erection, he let out a groan that felt like music to your ears.  ‘I loved it.’ You said and that was the turning point.  In a second you were being pulled with him into one of the many conference rooms on that floor, and there was a part of you that was excited, completely blocking out your better judgment.  He closed the door and looked at you, you stood, turned to him, inside the room, your chest rising and falling. He looked so dangerous, eyeing your whole body as if you were prey. As if you were hunt. His hands went up to meet his tie.  ‘You know, I wanted to do this in my new office, but.. I guess that will have to wait.’ His voice was controlled, low and sinful as he started taking the peace of fabric off.  You didn’t dare to speak, it seemed like something changes inside him when he was turned on.  He walked so slowly towards you and you took a few steps back, you didn’t know why, and you felt the edge of a table. Jungkook stopped mare inched from you his eyes glued to yours.  ‘Give me your hands.’ You hesitated then remembered how that made him mad. You put them in front of you and Jungkook put the fabric around them, tying them together.  ‘You see, Y/N, I was very serious about this part of our little negotiation, and you denying me what you agreed on just makes me so...’ He pulled on the fabric making sure it was tight and your body came forward with the force. ‘Mad.’  You bit your lower lip, the desire now filling the room and making the air feel heavy. You saw a spark in his eyes while he watched your teeth release your lip, leaving it a little swollen. He turned you around and pushed your body against the table, you couldn’t help but let a small squeak of surprise leave your lips as you laid on top of your tied hands. He raised your dress above your ass, you couldn’t see him, but you could just tell he was savoring the view, and then all of a sudden you felt the force and sound of him ripping your stockings, leaving you only in your black lace underwear as it hung from the other parts it wasn’t ripped off.  ‘I’m going to do everything I please with you right now, Y/N, and I want you to keep quiet, do you understand?’ He said, you could hear he was panting, completely immersed in desire. ‘We don’t want Namjoon to prove his theory right, do we?’ He asked.  You felt him caress your ass, his touch so warm. And you were so wet at this point you knew he could see it. ‘Y-yes Sir.’ You said remembering what he wanted to go by.  You knew that would do something to him, and when you felt his hands caress over your underwear your body jolted out of pleasure and surprise.  ‘You learn so fast, baby girl.’ He used the pet name, making you clench around nothing. His hands were softly brushing your core over the fabric, and it felt so good you thought you could cum with only that. When he stopped over your clit and pressed his fingers on it, stimulating in a circular motion, you let out a moan, the feeling so good and overwhelming.  ‘Do you like that, baby?’ He asked and you swallowed, feeling your mouth so dry.  ‘Y-Yes, Sir.’ You managed to say, your voice hoarse and weak.  He stopped and slid your underwear aside, rubbing his fingers over your core and spreading your arousal. He resumed his motions with his humid fingers over your clit making it even harder for you to hold back your moans.  ‘Shhh, baby, don’t make any noise.’ He said so low, you almost didn’t hear him. ‘Fuck... Look at how wet you are, such a mess.’ He said completely taken by your wet pussy.  ‘Tell me who this is for.’ He asked and your mouth opened, as you started to move your hips slightly in sync with his motion.  ‘Y-you.’ He slipped his thumb inside you and you moaned loud then bit your lip to hold back. ‘I’-It’s for you... J-Just for you.’ You said with an airy voice.  You wished you could see his face, you wished you could just look at him and that all the distaste you had for him would come rushing back like a could shower making you less into him like this. ‘You want to cum, baby?’ He asked as he pumped his thumb in and out of you slowly. He was torturing you. You let out little moans, feeling that very same feeling from the day at the party, if he went on like this, you were going to cum with his hands.  ‘N-no... I want more.’ You said but the build up was already happening, and the rush that was coming to meet your core felt so strong that even if he stopped, as soon as he touched you again, you would cum, even so, you didn’t want to cum yet. ‘J-Jungkook, stop... I’m gonna... I’m g-gonna c-cum if you don’t stop.’ You said and expected him to do so, but he just went on without saying anything. When It got too hard to hold you felt every muscle in your body clench, you laid your forehead on the table and your toes curled inside your heels as you felt your body convulse with the power of your orgasm. Trying to hold back your moans were impossible and the clenching of your core felt so strong he didn’t take his thumb from inside you, feeling every single contraction.  He didn’t let you came down from it, instead just lifting you and turning you around. The look of pure lust on his face as he looked at your fucked out form just made you clench again and he laid you back down, back against the table, he lifted your legs so you were completely lying on it and with a fast and strong motion, you saw one of your favorite underwear get torn from you, he looked so animalistic, and that turned you on very, very much. You thought he would fuck you now, get his own release, but he latched his mouth over your core and the sensibility came crashing into you, making you shake and try to get him off of you, but he held your hips in place, burrying his face deep within you.  ‘Jungkook!’ You yelled, and he opened his eyes and looked straight into yours, that was enough to shut you up. ‘Oh my god!’ You screamed again and the second high came so fast and so intense you didn’t know it was possible. You screwed your eyes shut, it was almost painful, but your body was shaking so hard immersed in pleasure that it was inviting. Your walls clenched uncontrollably over nothing and you couldn’t help a whiny moan escape your lips as you saw white.  Jungkook stood straight up his mouth glistening with your cum and you observed that beautiful scene as if it were a painting. ‘Jungkook...’ You called at him, your voice so weak. He looked back at you. ‘Please... Please fuck me.’ You begged him with a whiny voice that had him flooded with desire. You could see his hard erection through his pants. ‘How could I deny you anything when you ask me like that?’ He said and started unbuckling his pants, it fell to the floor as soon as he unbuttoned it and all was left was his dark gray boxers that had a wet spot where his pre-cum had stained. He pulled them down, letting his cock swing free and your mouth watered at the sight, you were so anxious to feel him inside you, to have that feeling of fulfillment you had the day before and Jungkook could tell.  ‘Tell me how much you want it.’ He asked and you bit your lip as he approached his cock to your entrance.  ‘I want it so much... So, so much.’ You said, completely taken over by your own lust. ‘I want it inside me, Sir... Please... Show me how much of a slut I am with your cock, please.’ You didn’t even know you had it in you. But as soon as the words came out, they sounded so natural, so dirty, but competently natural. And it sounded like exactly what he wanted to head, cause the next moment he was slammed inside you with one movement making him groan.  ‘Fuck, you feel so tight.’ He cursed when you clenched around him.  The stretch of his cock inside you stung a little, but It still felt amazing. Jungkook didn’t waste any time in rocking his hips in and out of you ever so gently for you to adjust, but as soon as you relaxed he held one of your legs up and slammed into you making you body buck.  ‘Fuck!’ You cursed. And that was nothing more than an incentive for him to go on.  With each thrust of his hips, you felt his cock hit the back of your core, panting and moaning his name, it was all so overwhelming.  ‘Look at you... All ready to cum for me again, such a dirty, dirty little girl.’ He said between gritted teeth and you could tell he was holding back his release. You clenched around him and moved you hips. He held them tight and stopped.  ‘Don’t.’ He said with authority in his voice. ‘Your gonna cum one more time for me.’ And he resumed his movements only slamming harder inside you.  You could barely speak with how hard he was fucking you.  ‘I-I don’t t-think I c-can...’ You said while your voice was failing.  ‘Yes you can, now cum for me... That’s a fucking order.’ He said while he pounded, his hips probably bruising you. You started feeling the heat build up in your core, and you knew that coming again would probably feel painful, but you didn’t dare go against his word.  Jungkook’s thumb came to your clit, and even though it was still a little sensitive, it was enough to take you over the edge.  You came undone the third time with curses filling the room, Jungkook’s as well. And when you clenched so hard over him, he groaned and tried to continue moving, but it was hard. The pain mixed with the immense pleasure took over your whole body, and you moved your hips without noticing just riding off your high and that was enough to bring Jungkook to his release, with a hard thrust he let his head drop back and came inside you with a guttural moan that sounded so freaking hot. You felt as his cock twitched inside you, his release filling you up ever so pleasurable. When he came forward, his forehead against your chest, the room was left filled with the sound of your breathes and panting as they were ragged and loud. You felt your body numb, you were so tired you felt your eyes starting to shut and you could barely feel when he pulled out of you, but not moving away from your body. The intensity of what had just happened had drained you of all energy and you felt yourself doze off. 

You opened your eyes the first time and you saw the ceiling of the hallway of the hotel, you were being carried, and then you shut them again to taken by your exhaustion. The second time you opened your eyes it was dark outside and you felt your body ache, you were in a very comfortable bed, you got up on your hands and looked around, not recognizing the place you were in, you searched for your phone and you found it beside you, on a nightstand. It was eight o’clock. It was eight o’clock at night. With a fast motion, you took off the covers. Where the hell were you?  ‘Good morning.’ You heard Jungkook’ voice and immediately turn in his direction. He was seated at an armchair, a very dim light illuminating his face. He observed you, up and down. ‘Did you sleep well?’ He asked, a very cold tone in his voice.  ‘Where am I?’ You asked looking at him, uneasy.  ‘We’re still at the hotel...’ He said and got up. ‘After you.. Well, basically fainted, I called and asked them to arrange a room for you.’ He stopped a couple of feet from you and crossed his arms.  ‘Who got me here? I don’t remember walking.’ You said as you looked around for your things.  ‘I carried you here.’ He said. You shot a look back at him, you would have thought he’d ask Carter, a Hotel employee to do that, that would sound exactly like what someone as horrible as him would do.  ‘Did you stay here?’ You asked wondering why he was still around.  ‘Yes, I wanted to make sure you were fine.’ He said and put his hands is his pockets looking away from you.  There was an awkward silence and you straightened your dress. You were no longer wearing the ripped pantyhose or your shoes and you assumed he must have taken them off.   ‘Well... Uhm.. Thank you, I guess. I-I’m fine.’ You said without looking at him, you were clearly embarrassed. ‘Good, take a shower, I asked Carter you buy you new underwear, it’s right over there, and please, don’t be long, my reservation is due in forty minutes.’ He said looking at his watch.  ‘You can go, you don’t need to wait for me, I can take a cab.’ You said walking over to the bag of what looked like Bordelle lingerie. Of course, he would want you to wear that brand. You thought.  ‘You’re coming with me.’ He said in a very stern voice. You looked back at him, confused.  ‘What? Jungkook..’ He wanted to take you out for dinner? This was going too far.  ‘You’re not taking me out for dinner, this is not a relationship.’ You fired back with annoyance in your voice.  ‘Please,’ he scoffed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, we have a meeting.’ He also sounded annoyed.  ‘With who?’ You asked clearly not wanting to spend another minute with him.   ‘With your Daddy, princess.’     

[spidey-d00d]

Imagine getting married to Loki

He never thought anyone would be in his life long enough to get to know him and love him. He didn’t even expect anyone to love him. He was fully prepared to live the rest of his life alone and he was okay with that.

But that was until you walked straight into his life. Literally. You had walked right into him in the Stark Towers as he was trying to reign his brother back to Asgard and you were running around like a maniac for Tony seen as you were his assistant at the time. Now you were promoted to the head of Stark Industries, taking Pepper Potts place.

Ever since you had made eye contact with the god, you knew that he was the next challenge you wanted to take on. Challenges were your thing. Hence why you took the job with Tony Stark. You liked facing things head on and accomplishing them. Loki wasn’t an exception either. You knew him, about him at least at the time. You knew the trouble he has gotten into and caused. Hell, he was a central part of your pain for a good few years.

The New York attack killed your parents and older brother whom you were incredibly close with, but over the years you grieved less and less, knowing they wouldn’t want you to dwell on them and let them get in front of your work. You resented Loki for years, before you had even met him. You had it all planned out on how his death would be, the same as your family’s, slow and painful, but it all changed when you had finally came face to face with the frost giant.

You saw a whole different man than everyone else. You saw the hurt in his eyes no matter how much he tried to hide it with his hard demonor. You saw how soft he was behind all of his dark clothing and armor. You saw Loki the kind, misunderstood, gentle, damnedly unstable, god and not the Loki everyone hated which was the vindictive, evil-minded god of mischief.

He was reluctant at first to even let you speak to him. He knew if he said even a word wrong then he would have a whole world of hurt coming his way, but you convinced him otherwise. You told him, and these were your exact words, “I am a big girl, I can handle my own puny god issues” with the biggest smirk the man had ever seen on your face. Loki, at the time did not find it amusing but now looking back on it, the memory makes him smile.

You two had spent a lot of time together, whether you were working or not. If you were busy doing the loads of paperwork you always seemed to have, he would sit in your office with you and just read. Other times when you had free time you would do things around the compound like watch movies, have him read to you, or just run around like a bunch of 10 year olds. It really just depended on the day and type of moods you guys were in, but there was rarely any time you were apart.

You had him wrapped around his finger and you didn’t even realize it. You had been the only person Loki had ever met in his years of existing, that overlooked everything he did, and looked at him like an actual person that deserved a little bit of kindness.

Now, years later, he was standing at the end of a light emerald green rose petal covered walkway, awaiting your arrival. The accent colors of black and emerald green were scattered around the white decor. You guys wanted to try and keep it traditional with a splash of your own touch.

Everyone in the pews that were set up in the huge field outside of the Avengers compound stood up from their previous seated positions. Everyone included some friends made through the years, most of them having to do with shield or the Avengers, and of course the Avengers themselves. Besides Thor, Steve, Clint and Wanda. Thor was Loki’s best man, the only one that through everyone, before you had met him, stood with Loki and believed in him, his brother.

Wanda was your maid of honor, she was also the only that would agree to wear a dress between her and Natasha. Wanda had been there for you to rant to and what not about your relationship problems, when they arose every once in a blue moon, and she was also your best friend.

Steve was the one marrying you two, because he was surprisingly already ordained. No one really questioned him on it.

Clint was the one walking you down the aisle, seen as your real father couldn’t be here. Clint served as a father figure for all of the years that you knew him. You knew you could go to him for anything you ever needed him for, and he wouldn’t hesitate to put everything down and help you. Clint was a real father figure to a lot of people, including the Maximoff twins, you, and of course his own children.

You saw everyone turn around awaiting your presence walking down between the pews. You had a death grip of the archers arm and you started slowly walking to the beginning of the walkway.

“Don’t let me trip” You whispered so only he could hear.

“I won’t, but if you do I’m gonna laugh” You were told and you just gave him a death glare, to which he grinned and shrugged to.

“Are you ready?” He asked as soon as we hit the start of the colored rose petals.

“As ready as I can be.” You replied, finally looking straight ahead of you instead of looking at all of the smiling faces around you. The music started playing but you didn’t notice. You started walking forward, but you didn’t notice. All you saw was his eyes, and that’s all you were focused on.

Loki didn’t realize you had come down the aisle until you were right in front of him. Not because he wasn’t pay attention, but as soon as you came into his view, he lost all track of thought. You were on his mind and that was it. How beautiful you looked in the long white dress you probably spent way too much money on. How your hair was neatly placed on top of your head with a veil covering the y/h/c hair neatly. How your makeup was done with perfection, even though he didn’t think you needed it, he knew you liked it and that’s all that mattered. All that mattered is that he got to marry the love of his life and you loved it. He didn’t notice he was crying until you reached up and wiped a tear off of his face.

“I’m the one that is supposed to be crying.” You joked and everyone laughed, including Loki, who just grinned and slightly shook his head.

You both smiled at each other before signaling Steve to start, wanting to be married already.

“I, Loki, take you, y/n, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward.” He grinned, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. He was beyond ecstatic to be finally saying these words and soon to be forever bonded with you.

You repeated the same words to him, maintaining eye contact, beaming with glee and excitement, rushing words trying to make the process go faster, and messing up once or twice, giving an entertaining show to your friends in the pews.

“I, Y/N, take you to be my husband, my friend, my faithful partner, my protector and my love from this day forward. In the presence of our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health.”

By now you were crying, thankful that you had the makeup artists use waterproof makeup otherwise you would be a complete mess. Loki was also tearing up, but willing himself not to drop any tears, because this was your time to shine and he wasn’t going to take that from you. He will cry during his part. “In good times and in bad, which we will have a lot of both.”

That got a lot of people to laugh. You added it in to make the mood lighter instead of you just crying. “And in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your choices, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”

You were nearing the end of the vows. All that was left was for Loki to say his last bit of the promise you were holding for each other. You were both getting impatient, but knew it was for the best. He was just replaying in his head all of the amazing times you guys had together, and thinking about how many more memories you would make together. He was counting the words until he would be able to kiss you and make everything official.

“I Loki, promise you will forever be my partner in life, and my one true love. I will cherish our union and to love you more and more than i did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, love you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand.”

“My heart.” You joined in.

“My love.” He continued grinning from ear to ear.

“My life.” You continued.

“My promise to be here for you, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

Steve chimed in with the classic line that they had been waiting to hear since you walked down the aisle.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife, Loki, you may now kiss your bride.” He announced grinning as everyone started to cheer.

He looked you in the eyes, a smile never leaving his face nor yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands found themselves resting on your hips, pulling you closer as he smashed his lips on your, finally making everything official. You swore you felt the same sparks, if not stronger sparks, from when you had first kissed him all those years ago.

You were now Mr. and Mrs. Loki Laufeyson and you two couldn’t be any happier.

×××××××××××××

Just now getting back into writing so go easy on my please!

My requests are open so pleaseeeee request something!

[colorofmymindposts]

Morgana and Guinevere Chapter Five

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Pairing: Morgana/Guinevere

Rating: Teen (Rating will increase in last chapter.)

Status: Incomplete

Word Count: 1587 for this chapter, 4646 for the entire work thus far

Story Summary: Set post 2x04. When Gwen returns safely from captivity, Morgana has many secrets about her own inner desires to tell her best friend. Gwen would be lying if she did not reciprocate her mistress’ feelings.

Chapter Summary: All is revealed. 

Tags: Love Confessions, First Kiss, Tenderness 

Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3.  Via tumblr, the first chapter can be read here, the second chapter here, the third chapter here, and the fourth chapter here. Last chapter will serve as an optional epilogue, but the story itself essentially ends here. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Gwen knew. She knew. Not only of Morgana’s improper passions but illicit powers as well, of the dangerous woman she really was. A sob escaped Morgana as the reality of the situation came crashing down around her, and she couldn’t stop shaking and crying. Her legs gave out from under her, and she stifled her wails with covered hands. It was all over.

Gwen was a silent, looming presence above her.

“Gwen,” she started, voice choking around the lump in her throat. “I didn’t mean to—I would never hurt you. I didn’t even know I had this...curse until recently. My position doesn’t matter. I’ll be dead before the next dawn if Uther finds out what I am.”

“Morgana!” Her friend finally gasped, as if her declaration was shocking. It was only the truth.

An insistent knock startled both of them enough to look at Gwen’s door. It was already starting. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

She barely registered the girl moving past her to answer the door. She did not move to stop her either.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Guinevere. I thought I heard something shattering like glass, just a moment ago. I thought I would check in on you, see if you were alright.”

The concerned voice on the other side of the door belonged distinctly to an older man, not Gaius though. It must have been some other stranger in the village Morgana did not know. Gwen would give him the word to call for the night guards—to take Morgana away, throw her in the dungeon, to await condemnation and a sentence from King Uther. If she rushed the door and fled as quickly as she could on foot, she might be able to evade the guards. Yes, that’s what she’d have to do.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, John. My window broke, but I think it must have been one of the men, probably just had a bit much to drink at the tavern. I should have no trouble cleaning it up on my own.”

What was she doing? Morgana was frozen where she sat on the floor. It took an effort to make herself turn her head to face the door, which Gwen only had open just enough for the man to make out her face. He probably had no idea that the Lady Morgana was lying on her servant girl’s floor.

“Those blasted drunkards! I suppose I should just be glad they didn’t do anything worse. I just figure, with your father gone, you should have someone checking in on you every now and again.”

“Well, I really appreciate it. I really think you should get back to bed though. I’m fine, and it’s awfully late.”

With a hum of assent and exchanging of goodbyes, Gwen shut the door firmly back into place.

The girl spun about on her heel and crouched down on her knees while gazing intently at Morgana. “That cut looks like it went rather deep. We’ll have to clean that out. Wouldn’t want to have to send you over to Gaius to treat you for an infection.”

Morgana watched mutely as Gwen walked over to a pail of water, dunked a fresh piece of cloth into it, and proceeded to kneel in front of her, gently stroking Morgana’s cheek with the wetted cloth.

“Why are you doing this?” Morgana all but hissed at Gwen, afraid and confused all at once. Was this some kind of game to her?

Gwen slightly recoiled at her tone, she could tell, and the cloth hung limply in her hand. “Because I care about you, Morgana. I would never want to see you executed let alone suffer from any injury, however small. I don’t believe all sorcerers are evil. I can’t believe it. How could I, when one so compassionate and pure of heart sits before me?”

Blinking her eyes, once, twice, Morgana could not deny that the words had indeed come out of Gwen’s mouth and that they were offered genuinely.

“How...how can you think that way? When all Camelot has taught us is that magic is evil along with those that have it?” She queried. There should be no reason in God’s name to question Gwen’s clemency and yet she had to know if she knew nothing else.

“Morgana, I helped you send Mordred away. I was almost executed for being accused of sorcery only last year. And my own father was executed wrongly for supposedly harbouring a sorcerer. What we’ve been taught...I cannot believe it to be completely true. No one group of people can be entirely evil. And they do not deserve to be persecuted as they are by this kingdom. I would shudder to think that the King would hold any ill will towards you for anything, he cares for you so much, but I cannot say I know him as well as you do. You are the kindest, most beautiful soul I have ever known. You wouldn’t harm me or anyone else with your magic. I swear I shall tell no one of your secret.”

The tears spilled from her eyes before Morgana could stop them. Nor could she resist wrapping her arms around her friend, sobbing with relief into the crook of her neck.

“Oh Gwen, I was so frightened! It’s only been a few months, but they’ve been the worst of my life, hiding this side of myself from everyone. I feared retribution from anyone who learned of my magic, but you…,’ Morgana paused to withdraw herself from the warmth of her friend. She needed to look her in the eyes. ‘You have my eternal gratitude for your acceptance. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I don’t want you to pay me anything. I want you to be happy. If you are, I consider that my eternal reward,” her friend replied easily, dropping the cloth shortly after.

It was, to her own amazement, that Morgana could smile freely after that pronouncement. “This wasn’t exactly how I imagined this night would go.”

Gwen, bless her, actually giggled slightly. “I wouldn’t think so, no. But you didn’t come here to tell me about your magic, right? That seemed like an accident.”

“No, I didn’t.”

A silence fell between them as they seemingly both remembered what preceded the window shattering. In a way, what had caused it to shatter in the first place, revealing Morgana’s magic.

“Gwen...I can understand if I have one too many vices to forgive. It’s alright. Forget I even said anything, I can—”

Morgana was swiftly cut off by Gwen placing her index finger on top of Morgana’s parted lips. Gently, and ever so slowly that an age must have passed, Gwen pressed a simple but tender kiss to Morgana’s forehead.

“You’ve a beautiful mind, M’Lady,” Gwen whispered, lips just a fraction above Morgana’s forehead. It made her shiver and inadvertently withdraw from Gwen slightly. “I wonder though how you talk yourself in such circles, when the truth is so clear.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve lost all ability to think now that you’ve done that Gwen, you’ll have to tell me what truth you’re talking about.”

The smile that graced Gwen’s face at that moment was truly a sight to behold. No artist could capture that beam that tugged upwards on the corners of her lips, that effortlessly let in a rush of happiness into Morgana’s chest.

“I thought I’d been so obvious,” her friend admitted, seeming unbelieving that she hadn’t been. She pulled a few inches away and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. “That’s why I was trying to stay away from you these last few days, though they’ve left me restless. I thought you would find me out.”

“Gwen, I don’t understand. Find out what?”

“I am in love with no man,” Gwen stopped herself, drawing a long breath before she continued. Her hands shook in her lap, and her voice began to be imbued with a quality of unrestrained fondness as she spoke. “I love a lady, so very fair. She has hair as dark as a raven, that flows in long waves down her back. I have brushed it many a time when she has allowed me to. She has perfect rosy lips and exquisite emerald eyes that I’ve recently learned sometimes turn to an amazing golden without her even trying. Once, I thought I might tell her how I felt when I picked some flowers for her, but I was too afraid then. I cannot be now. I am in love with the fairest lady in all the land, and she sits before me. I can only be so glad that she returns my affections, more than I ever could have hoped.”

Such a feeling of euphoria blossomed in Morgana at Gwen’s declaration that she could contain herself no longer. Her friend’s kiss had meant everything Morgana had wanted it to mean. Closing the distance between them, Morgana clasped her hand at the base of Gwen’s neck as she found Gwen’s eager lips to receive her own. The feeling...was more than anything Morgana had ever known before. The rush of warmth that flew to her cheeks, her mouth and the fluttering in her stomach couldn’t be helped, but Gwen’s soft caress left Morgana in absolute ecstasy, sighing into the other girl’s mouth for more, more, more. The glow of the moonlight shone brightly on their faces as they met each other again and again in their clandestine embrace.