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that--unusual-person · 3 years

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Pillar Men Anatomy

Documented 16 March 2021 (10:23 PM)

By. Tekely von Unusual (that unusual person)

((This was only made for fun so everything here i tried to make similar to canon as possible. Plus, i love science. And studying ancient beings.))

Bone Structure

There seem to be bones in a Pillar Mans body. But when in contact with hamon they seem to vanish. -Example: Santana’s body being split in half. His bones are gone and all that shows is the flesh, blood, and muscle of the body.-

Hamon could possibly destroy a Pillar Mans bone easily being directly struck with a ripple. -Example: Kars’s Bone Blade. His Bone Blade is made of his own forearms bone, extending outwards, sharpened to act as a knife with a metallic-like look to it. In contact with hamon via Joseph striking the blade, the weapon is shattered immediately along with hamon coursing through the bone to the flesh of the arm.- -Counter: Esidisi’s arm. His arm was rotating with ripple flowing around it. The second the skin and muscle melted and the rotation stopped the bones were still intact but sizzling.-

It is possible Pillar Men have a flexible bone structure that surpasses reflexive limits but are very weak to hamon.

A Pillar Man can rearrange their bone structure and break it at will. Their bones can heal in a matter of seconds. -Example: Santana’s configuration to fit in a 2cm vent. Wamuu bending his spine in his first fight with Joseph.-

They’re bones can also be sharpened or dulled. -Example: Kars’s Bone Blades and Santana’s Rib Blades.-

Final Analysts: Bones are infinitely jointed and mandible but very weak to hamon.

Muscles

Body is made of mostly muscle. When damaged the material of the tissue in the wound is coated in a strange glow to keep an open wound from being infected(?). Glowing is a sign of healing in progress(?). -Counter: The sunlight reflecting off the moon (possibly) effects the Pillar Mens body.- -Counter: Glow shows even in areas where sunlight can’t hit and the moon is not present.-

Since Pillar Men don’t need to feed through their mouths, they absorb food through their bodies. Possible with no stomach they have digestive cells in their muscles that swallow food and reproduce it as energy and muscle. -Example: Santana eating the vampire prisoner. As Santana absorbs the vampire the energy transfers from one to another. When he’s finished Santana’s muscles begin to bulge expanding in mass with some of the vampire still being absorbed, proof that he is consuming nutrients on a cellular level causing muscle growth.-

Final Analysts: Muscles are a very important asset of a Pillar Mans body and are the source of power and energy.

Skin

Same as humans but with more mutant-like abilities. The skin can stretch without being broken. -Example: Santana fitting into a 2cm vent and a human body. Wamuu dodging Joseph’s surprise Hamon Clacker Valley attack by shifting his upper body a foot or two away from his legs at high speeds.-

The flesh can be manipulated, turning into something similar to soft liquid or solid like rock. -Example: Santana avoiding Joseph’s attack. When the knife Joseph used on Santana came in contact with Santana’s arm the flesh around the knife became rubbery, never piercing the skin. When Joseph tries using hamon through Santana’s eyes, his head deforms while turning his eyes and head into a rubber-like substance.-

-Example: Kars taking bullet fire. Kars turns his body to rubber to absorb the impact of the bullets/possibly absorbing them. (There is no evidence of blood when Kars is hit.)-

-Example: Santana solidifying his body. Santana hardens his body the second he comes in contact with the sun, but the armored body he wears can not protect him for long; his body begins to crack and chip away indicating the stone is still apart of his body and the sun still has a deadly effect on him. When the sun overpowers his stone armor, he turns into a statue, protecting himself completely in solid rock, a last-minute of protection from the rays of the sun.- -Example: Pillar Men sleeping. When they rest their bodies turn to stone for protection and security.-

They possibly morph into a wall and turn to stone, during their stone form they are able to absorb life or turn it to stone when in contact with them. -Example: Pillar Men absorbing Caesar’s father and Santana turning a snake into stone. They are still alive and are still feeding on nutrients through the stone.-

Final Analysts: Flesh can be manipulated into any shape or form of material.

Blood

Their blood normal aspects are similar to a human’s normal blood minus control over it. They can control their blood flow and how hot it can get. -Example: Esidisi. Esidisi’s Heat Mode allows him to shoot his blood out of his veins at will. The blood is boiling reaching 500 degrees max.-

Cells that break down food are also in the blood. They will work the same way as the muscle but only absorbing food if it stays in the Pillar Mans body. Their blood is similar to stomach acid, only breaking down food once it reaches the inside of the body but not having an affect once it meets oxygen outside the body.

Final Analysts: Pillar Men can manipulate their blood at anytime.

Horns

A Pillar Man’s horn(s) can mean multiple things depending on the Pillar Man’s purpose. It is possible the horns can be attracted and retracted. -Example: Wamuu and Kars. Wamuu can bring out his horn at command at any time. Kars hides his horns under his head wrap, with no signs of them it’s confirmed that they are retracted into his head.-

Some may use it as a weapon. -Example: Wamuus horn. Wamuu uses his horn as a weapon or to see wind better than light. It is used similar a radar feeling wind flow through objects and against them, Wamuu is able to sense where the wind flows and when it stops. His horn is also used in his ultimate mastery, Atmospheric Rift, where razor blade winds are shot out from the base of the horn. The spirals on his horn allow the wind to circulate around it and flow out like a tornado giving it enough power and rotation to cut through stone.-

The horn or horns can be changed in size. -Example: Wamuu awakening. When Wamuu wakes he uses his horn to stab a German Soldier holding him in the air and soon after mowing down more with his horn rotating at speeds that slice a human body in half. The horn is extended to reach what looks to be 9-12 yards long.-

Or it may be seen as a sign of honor or declaration of battle. -Example: Kars revealing his horns. Kars said to Lisa Lisa before their dual that bestowing his horn to her marks their battle.-

Another way showing their horns could be as a sign of aggression. -Example: Esidisi’s last stand. Upon inescapable defeat, Esidisi reveals one of his many horns through his form when he quotes Joseph of ‘pushing him too far’. Esidisi’s horn could be shown as an act of rage and transformation (his head turning into something similar to a beast).-

Final Analysts: Horns can be controlled and be used as symbols or weapons.

Marks

The Pillar Men’s tribal marks are given to them at birth similar to birthmarks. -Example: Baby Wamuu. During the flashback about Kars’s uprising, we see Wamuu as a babe with his horn yet to have grown but the mark he wears is there.-

Some marks are passed on by families, all are different in shapes and colors(???). The mark of the Pillar Man’s meanings and or history is earned and titles behind the marks. -Example: Strength. Wamuu’s strength physical and mental strength in battle is how he earned his tribal marks meaning.-

Final Analysts: Pillar Men tribal marks are compared to human birthmarks.

Regeneration

Cells in a Pillar Man’s body is boosted to reproduce new skin tissue rather than scar tissue. Bone modeling is enhanced, the regrowth is shortened to near minutes of completion. Bones seem to grow after the flesh and muscle are attached or regrown. Any dose of hamon to a Pillar Man’s body will slow down the regeneration. -Example: Kars’s injured arm. When Joseph struck Kars’s Bone Blade with hamon, it shattered the blade along with hamon radiating through the arm. In the span of minutes Kars’ arm continues to ooze with the glowing substance.-

Final Analysts: Regeneration abilities are quicker versions of the body healing wounds and modeling bones.

Before the masks

Pillar Men were possibly similar to humans before Kars invented the mask. They live longer lives but reproduction is rare. They seem to hunt animals instead of humans, showing they need nutrients as humans do. -Example: Kars’s flashback. It is seen at a wide dinner table the Pillar tribe is seen eating nutrients such as meat and other fruits and vegetables.-

Final Analysts: Pillar Men before the mask have similar traits as humans.

Final Evolution

The final mask used to complete a Pillar Man’s evolution seems to give them extra genes and immunity to sunlight. The genes given to a Pillar Man are connected to nature. They are able to form their bodies into different parts of an animal. -Example: Kars. He is able to create wings from his arms to his back, scales that reflect bullets that are capable of turning into paranas to tentacles from his arms or even from detached parts of his skin.-

They also have the power to create other living beings from their body but at the cost of their body. Essentially playing god. -Example: Kars creating a squirrel. Kars is able to create a squirrel from his hand and is possible a part of his mind in the form of an animal, sharing the same body and genes. On the squirrels return to Kars, it then morphs into different living objects of nature.-

Final Analysts: The final evolution of a Pillar Men gives them extra genes from different living organisms of nature.

Modes

A Pillar Man’s mode is powered by their body. Esidisi’s being heat, Wamuu of wind, Kars of light, and Santana a master of the body and flesh. It seems they can only control the element of their mode only through their body. -Counter: Wamuu. Wamuu retracting Caesar’s blood bubble towards him with his wind mode or lighting the fire more.-

It could be possible Wamuu spins his body at such speeds unseen by the human eye that the wind is attracted to him, or Wamuu uses his pipes from his chest to suck air in, he could possibly pull wind into his body and is able to shoot it out through his fingertips like Esidisi releases his veins. Wamuu’s divine sandstorm is caused by high-speed rotations of his arms. They rotate at a max velocity similar to a jet engine on a plane causing great winds enough to damage stone to appear. Kars can only use his light from his body, it’s possible he uses his bone blades to reflect artificial light off one another to add a blinding light to it. It is unknown how Kars is able to form light through his body. Esidisi is able to control the temperature of his body with ease. Similar to a human getting a fever, Esidisi heats his body up boosting fever-like symptoms burning his body and boiling his blood during the process. Similar to a fire under a kettle of tea.

Final Analysts: Pillar Men modes are centered around their bodies’ natural capabilities and movements.

Conclution: They evolve like Pokemon. lol

#just me typing away after hours of research and squabbling #jjba #battle tendency #pillar men #random shit

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senju-sekhmet · 3 years

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The Leash (Part 11)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! Part two of the finale! More to go after this though as you can tell, stay with me <3 Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________

Tobirama was nothing if not dutiful. The time for your last dose had come faster than he wanted to. And he’d be there to administer it. He made sure to look more presentable before he entered your rooming using the hiraishin seal. What for, he didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter, did it? Failure was certain, anyway. Perhaps it was for decency. Or maybe he needed the moment to recover. He was too numb. Spent from the breakdown. The short minute he spent at your shared home - that already screamed mute guilt at him - to wash off his smeared facial paint and reapply it before teleporting to your room.

You were in your bed, perfectly still. At peace. Of course. You couldn’t take any withdrawal anymore, at all - your body was too exhausted. To think this was how you’d pass - a shadow of your former self, at the limit of what you could take, physically, in every sense. You had fought a gruesome, cruel battle, gave it your everything, and now? Now, it was all for nothing. The sorrow flared again in a most painful way.

You won’t even hear his words.

He wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

Dazedly he strode closer to your bed, silently wondering where Hashirama was. He’d surely be here in a moment, he barely left your side. Your condition wouldn’t allow it - although with the seals covering your pale skin, you were stable, at least stable enough to allow him to tend to other duties, briefly. So long as the withdrawal didn’t kick in. He seized the moment while it presented itself like this.

He wouldn’t get another.

His eyes prickled again as he shuffled closer to your side. Briefly, he sat down on the side of your bed like he always had done when nobody else was around - but soon, the ache in his chest pulled him down onto his knees on the floor, by your side. The tightness inside was yet expanding and stealing his breath viciously as he wheezed past his clenched teeth for more air. Looking at you - your content face, the way your chest moved evenly albeit too fast - weak maybe but alive - it was tearing him apart. He didn’t know how to even exist with the grief that was seizing him faster than a fire ate up dry parchment.

His shaking hands reached for your cold, slender one, enclosing it in his, slowly bringing it to his face as he nearly buckled over it. Already, his chakra expanded to cover your network gently, coating it, wrapping around it in an utmost tender way. Tears welled just as the sorrow overflowed inside of him, like a barrel that was full and kept being poured in. The moment was sheer agony and yet he didn’t want it to end - to let go - because that would be the end.

Very tenderly he increased the connection to examine you, briefly - you still wouldn’t respond, but that was normal. You hadn’t woken in a couple of days during what was your lucid interval because you simply were too strained - Tobirama wondered if you could at all, really. The exhaustion was too great. Still, his examination found you were no better nor worse than the last time he performed it - your body was heavily impacted by each time the withdrawal had wreaked havoc inside, particularly your lung and heart were affected. At the same time the seals steadily streamed their support into you to keep your blood pressure up, your airways free, your attacked organs functioning. Not to mention the many wounds from the torture that had not been healing as you had been fighting for dear life. There wasn’t a part of you that wasn’t affected in some way, damaged, dysfunctional - critical, but not so that it couldn’t be helped.

It was, just like they had judged, a narrow edge they had been teetering.

And now it would tilt. The delicate balance they had managed to uphold, all they had done-

“I’m so sorry,” Tobirama finally spoke, his voice but a broken, haunted whisper. The baritone wrecked by guilt and sorrow alike, entirely unlike him and yet with an utter tenderness, reserved for you and your ears only. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Tears still flowed. “I’ve given it my all, my love. I couldn’t do it. I had it - I thought I had it - but in the last moment, it eluded me,” he continued, slowly cracking more by his sobs. “My failure will cost you everything,” he was practically wheezing now. “And I will never forgive myself for it. The void inside of me won’t ever be filled.” He paused for a moment to take a few shaking breaths, stroking over your forearm as he still cradled your hand to his face, rocking back and forth on his knees now.

“Please, forgive me, for I’ll never be able to.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard the door being opened. He needn’t tune into his sensory skills to know it was Hashirama, only his brother carried the gargantuan aura about himself.

His steps froze the moment he realised Tobirama’s pose. “What are you doing?”

Tobirama didn’t move nor open his eyes. He didn’t want to break the connection with you. He’d savour every single second that he had left with you. With a numb voice, he explained the result of his last experiment to his brother, his final findings, their implications.

During it, Hashirama got on his knees by Tobirama’s side, an arm flung around him in comfort. ________

The clinking of metal armor echoed through the corridors of the interrogation and information headquarters. Two fully equipped shinobi made their way down the hall. One of them carried an odachi in front of his chest with both hands - sheathed. For now. They were given respectful nods and salutes where they passed members of the unit, but nobody questioned their purpose nor their destination. After a left turn they were greeted by a burly man with stern, pale eyes and two more members of the unit, all dressed in a black uniforms. Only curt greetings were exchanged before they descended the winding staircase down into the cell block.

Their appearance gathered attention immediately. A rumble clattered through the bleak prison, growing with each cell block they passed. They needn’t go far. It was the middle cell block where they intended to go.

The prisoner’s gaze swept up as the group of five halted in front of his cell. Recognition flashed in his gaze, followed by laughter that carried an eerie sense of finality. “It happened, finally?”

Nobody answered. The burly man unlocked the door to enter with his two subordinates. The prisoner flashed a toothy grin, aimed precisely at one of the armed shinobi, namely the one carrying the odachi. “I’ve won,” he sneered, “I’ve fucking won, I’ve told you!” - his voice was a hoarse shout in the end, strained by the pain of a broken jaw. The three interrogators made quick work of the chains that held him tightly wrapped in the middle of the cell to ready him for transportation, arms still secured and legs only allowed a minimum of movement to walk.

The two armored shinobi watched them entirely impassively, showing not even a shred of emotion.

The prisoner’s manic laughter echoed off the prison’s wall forlornly, hauntingly. An utterly broken sound of defiance only a certain kind person would have.

A shrill scream broke through the dismal setting. “You fucking idiot! I hope you rot in hell!” - the woman of the far end. Nobody paid attention to her.

The group made their way down the corridor that was only illuminated by a few candles along the way, passing the stairway they had taken down. The prisoner kept chattering. His voice carried a slight tremble now, “How did she die? Tell me, come on. I’ve never actually seen it, but I learned it’s fucking gruesome in the end,” his eyes were alight with sick pleasure.

The shinobi dressed in blue battle armor adorned with a white fur collar gripped the odachi so hard his knuckles turned white. His back was turned towards the prisoner, he couldn’t see the way his face scrunched under his happuri.

Nobody answered him.

He kept jabbering along incessantly. At some point the tone had taken on a perfectly fine frantic edge. Blubbering, almost, to himself. Eventually, they reached a door the burly man unlocked. The room beyond was dark but lit up as soon as they entered. No windows were inside, just like in the prison block, but no seals adorned these walls. This room was entirely bleak save for dark, crimson stains on the stone floor in the middle of the room.

The subordinates dragged the prisoner into that very center. With an ungraceful kick to the back of his knees, he was brought to kneel. The two shinobi stood in front of him and the man in the red armor crossed his arms. His expression was sorrowful, moved. But the taut line of his jaw and the coldness of his gaze betrayed no lightness about this situation.

“Zenji of the Stone Village,” he began somberly as the three interrogation unit members lined up behind their prisoner who now was wheezing on a low tune, his stare fixated on the harbinger of his fate. “The actions of your unit have endangered our borders, the civilians who live there and ultimately,” he paused meaningfully to take a deep breath - the stone cold tone cracked a little, pained lines wrinkled his smooth face. “Cost the life of one of our own.”

Immediately, Zenji’s mien lit up. He grinned widely, but he did not give the red-armored man another glance. Instead, his gaze was trained on the figure in blue, whose scarlet eyes were murderous as he stared him down, face framed by his happuri and finely applied facial paint. He looked spotless. Zenji cackled again.

“I do not wish for there to be more bloodshed,” the shinobi continued, entirely unperturbed by the behavior of the prisoner. “However our village can and will not condone these actions with idleness nor continue to nurture an enemy we cannot possibly ever release. Your kage,” Zenji’s head snapped back to the red-armored man momentarily. “Made clear he is not interested in an exchange of prisoners.”

The room became completely silent.

“I bear no revenge nor joy, but as the Hokage of Konoha, I’m here to tell you that you have been sentenced to death.”

The blue armored man stepped closer now, odachi still tightly clasped, but the man in the red armor raised his hand slightly, prompting him to stop and give him an irritated stare.

Zenji’s ragged breaths came wheezing so loudly they echoed off the walls as his wide eyes stared at the man, motionless besides the fight for oxygen.

Hashirama regarded the prisoner with the same cold gaze he had been wearing all the time. “Do you wish to speak one last time?”

That was his clue. Zenji threw his head back to release a long groan, each breath transforming more and more into a chuckle. A disconcerting lull settled over the room as it died down with a sense of finality and his eyes locked with Tobirama’s. “Oh, I fucking do,” he began, grinning widely. “To him. It’s my last wish.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth, giving no verbal answer. Hashirama did instead. “Very well.”

Zenji cocked his head. “Tell me, how did you fail? What part of the leash didn’t you copy? I want to know.”

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly and his jaw worked visibly. “Anjia…,” he began slowly, his deep voice so low it was barely more than a strained growl.

“Answer him, Tobirama. A dying man’s wish should not be denied.” Hashirama’s tone left no room for discussion.

Tobirama’s eyes opened again to give Zenji a glance of sheer hatred, his nostrils flared, scarlet glare ablaze. He did not even attempt to hide the fury in his voice as he spoke. If he spat the words out any more in fact, they’d be lost in the rage. “I created a leash of my own and tethered Kimi to it. However…,” he worked hard to find the next words, Zenji’s grin widened already, likely in anticipation for the best part of the story, “... it would appear my sealing technique differs from yours, if just slightly.”

The prisoner burst into laughter, Tobirama flinched. The sheathed odachi trembled slightly from the force he held it with. “I fucking knew it! Ah,” he replied when he had gained a grip on himself again. “The seal. The master’s finishing touch. Unique, really.” Zenji wriggled his eyebrow in a manner that prompted Tobirama to bare his teeth slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to copy mine. Ha!”

Hashirama cleared his throat.

But Zenji was not yet finished. “I’m not a liar though, y’know? I keep my promises,” the grin now was sickening. Gloating. Zenji cherished this moment as though he was an actor on a grand stage. Living it to its fullest. “And I promised to tell you everything once Y/n croaked, so here we are.”

Tobirama exhaled a wheezing breath as he stepped closer abruptly, Hashirama’s hand shooting up instantly to lay on his shoulder guard. “Brother, please,” he whispered, turning towards him slightly. Then the cold stare was back on Zenji. “You need not besmirch your Village’s secrets now.”

“Ah, ah,” Zenji sneered, “Why the fuck should I care? I’m as good as dead anyway, and I want to teach Konoha’s best scientist how he could have saved his oh so beloved.” His voice dripped with caustic smugness and Hashirama had to grip Tobirama’s forearm lest his brother shot forward and delivered the sentence just for these words alone.

Tobirama’s expression was one of sheer murder. His teeth were bared and the scarlet gaze alone was ready to kill a man - just like the rest of himself, particularly the large weapon he carried; the same weapon he had used many times before.

Zenji continued to live his show. “Now I needn’t explain the weaving process since you kinda copied it - well fucking done, man - but my seal - ah, let’s see. My seal is relatively simple!” Hashirama’s grip on his brother tightened as he near vibrated with lethal energy still, spurring Zenji to even greater extravagance. “Of course, it was passed down to me by the one who taught me, but I made some modifications,” he drawled lazily, an adventurous glint to his gaze.

What followed was a detailed explanation about the intricacy and yet simplicity of his own sealing process Tobirama couldn’t stomach anymore - he turned away lest he drove the odachi through the prisoner’s neck on the spot, perhaps. It was impossible to tell in the dim light - the shadow looming over his face hid his expression well and with the happuri, his profile was somewhat obscured. Only the taut stance, the clenched grasp on his weapon were telltale signs of the high-strung situation - a tight coil, ready to lash out any second.

Zenji didn’t hold back on information about how exactly he performed the seal that made the disruption stick within the leash - everyone else listened quietly. Hashirama’s mien had turned stony throughout it and the three members of the interrogation unit simply watched the man with practiced nonchalance.

“And that,” Zenjia finished his grand, final play, “is what could’ve saved Y/n. Too fucking bad.” The grin he wore was nothing short of sick. “Maybe I can tell her too, when I’m dead, hm?”, he tilted his head.

Suffocating silence befell the room.

Hashirama cleared his throat. It was time for the execution of judgement, literally. He turned his head towards Tobirama, whose back was turned towards the prisoner at this point. “Very well,” he concluded with a loaded kind of finality.

A few moments of heavy silence later, Tobirama turned around.

His head was tilted downwards slightly, shadows cast over his face.

Then he looked up.

Smirking broadly.

He lowered the odachi that he had clasped so tightly throughout all of the conversation - more like, Zenji’s soliloquy, and stepped yet again closer to the prisoner.

The smirk became smug, and smugness became condescending as skin around his mouth wrinkled in an utterly arrogant way. There was a satisfied, bright glint in his scarlet gaze. “You are without a doubt the dumbest shinobi I’ve ever encountered,” finally, he bared his teeth in a wide grin. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” His baritone voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zenji’s expression fell apart. His jaw hung open slightly and his gaze was wide as he tried to process the change of demeanour in who he deemed by now his arch nemesis. “What the fuck?”, he spat out finally when Tobirama didn’t speak again.

He simply clicked his tongue sympathetically and arched both eyebrows. “Y/n is not dead. In fact, thanks to you, she will live.” Both relief and caustic smugness were tangible in the way he worded this, no doubt basking in the moment of figuratively crushing Zenji under his heel. Who still didn’t find the words to answer yet, but Tobirama was more than happy to supply him with more fodder. “Certainly, time was running quite short - almost, imagine, almost - you could’ve won.”

Zenji’s jaw trembled beside the pain that must cause him alongside the rest of him. The man still hadn’t found his words again.

Tobirama wasn’t done with the verbal execution, however. “I truly did not know how to copy your seal after creating my own.” A slow nod, his baritone voice now came rolling smoothly, “And then it occurred to me - why not use your petty thirst for revenge for Y/n? All it’d take was make you believe she died. And here we are,” a smile spread over his lips again. “You delivered perfectly.” Then, he had the audacity to give Zenji a single pat on the head as though he was praising a dog.

The prisoner recoiled from the touch as though it was scalding hot. “Fuck you!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, nearly tipping over from his kneeling position, had it not been for Ikuro’s hand shooting out to secure him by the shoulder. “Rot in fucking hell, Senju!” he howled, but it was no more than a little bandaid for the hurt pride.

Tobirama already turned around to Hashirama, any trace of smugness or gloating gone from his expression. “I’ll get to work. Thank you, anija,” he dipped his head slightly. Zenji was still shouting profanities at him, but it was no more than a background noise.

Hashirama smiled broadly, much more like himself. “Of course.”

Tobirama turned back to Ikuro and his subordinates. Now, he actually took a slight bow. “And thank you, too. There still is little more to be done, but I’m very grateful for your support.”

Ikuro had already wrestled an unruly Zenji off of the floor, but the burly man wore a wide grin. “I - no, we will be expecting you. Right, Zenji? Come on, let’s get you back to your compatriots. They’ll be glad to see you again,” he finished with a dangerous chuckle.

The sounds already drowned out as Tobirama initiated the hiraishin seal teleport to the laboratory.

You only had a few hours left.

_______

You were suspended in sweet nothingness.

You had been for a while really, perturbed only by occasional nightmares. They were dim and far away, visions of what had been. Maybe. You weren’t sure anymore.

It hadn’t been like this before. Before, your world had been on fire. You had been on fire. Being burned from the inside out and yet too powerless to scream out your agony at the world. Something - someone - had chained you up in the nothingness with no company except your torment that you suffered through, over and over again. Until it faded, and the nightmares came. You laughed about those now. Then, all was calm. For a while.

Your reason for going through all this was becoming but an abstract concept.

Until you weren’t even sure anymore what might be happening. Dimly, you remembered your strength leaving you - waking up was getting harder, eventually it was tantamount to the one armed climbing exercises you used to steel yourself with. You actually had been able to pull off something like that?

Tobirama had been by your side every waking second. His face; you’d never forget the expression. Never before had you seen him haunted by distress of this kind while his chakra warmly embraced you, while he comforted you - telling you he was working hard. You had wanted to comfort him in turn, then. He needed it more than you - he hadn’t looked fine. Drawn, worn out.

Unwell. Sick, almost.

Things must be looking very bad, you knew then. It reminded you why you went through all this. But you all were losing the fight, it seemed?

No matter how much you fought, how badly you wanted to - during the phases in which you weren’t suffering from being burned alive nor haunted by nightmares, you couldn’t wake anymore. You wanted to. So badly. But your eyes wouldn’t open and ultimately, the darkness was your lonely repose in which you anxiously waited for the next time the fire began to light up again.

But that had been fading. The fire’s burn was becoming shorter. And your consciousness was slipping more. Sometimes, you thought you felt Tobirama’s presence, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Eventually it was just you and forlorn nothingness with the occasional nightmare.

Had you died?

It changed. The fire returned once more - and this time, this time it felt as though you were burning away. Not like before - when it burned you out until someone snuffed out the flames - now, it consumed your very being. It became so great at some point, pain was all you were - nothing besides the scorch of the fire that ate you alive.

You realised then, this must be it - every moment more of you faded and the pain kept on roaring through every single cell of your body. But you - you were becoming duller and duller. You didn’t want to. Not yet - this wasn’t how you were going to go down, was it? Yet the promise of eternal rest after this, all of this pain - it was alluring. After all you’ve been through, was there really a point in returning?

Tobirama would choke you personally if he ever caught on to these thoughts.

But he’s not here, is he?

You were all alone.

Ready to go. You had fought, you had tried, you had walked the road to hell many times over but eventually even your stamina would forego you.

Except they didn’t let you go. Something - no, someone was holding you back. Any time you were dipping into the part of darkness you just knew there was no returning from, there was a pull. It was forceful, unpleasant - a jolt that might have spurred your heart to keep on beating, your lungs to draw air and each organ of your body to keep on functioning.

You wanted to reject it.

I don’t want to, anymore. I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too much. Please.

They didn’t let you.

You wanted to cry.

You were suspended in nothingness by titan chains that forcefully kept you right on your very own pyre while pain was becoming you.

_______

He didn’t want to take any chances. But he didn’t have time, either. Tobirama had no choice but to follow the information Zenji had given as dutifully as possible and hope this was it - that the bottle of leash he had crafted was identical to what Zenji would have produced. Really, it was an all out move. His back was against the proverbial wall while yours lowered more and more into a coffin.

You were going into withdrawal again, and he knew what that meant.

Never before had he woven the leash this fast - frankly working with a larger quantity of base substance seemed to make the whole process easier, and yet at the same time more demanding. Not that he felt any of it, he was focusing entirely on getting this done as fast as possible. Once he was satisfied with the result - enough to give it to you that was, which was about the highest standard he could think of - he teleported straight into your room.

Where his brother was bent over your sweating, and shaking body as his palms glowed lightly.

The rattle of your breath - Tobirama knew it well. He had heard it many times before.

A dying person’s breath.

“I’ve got it,” Tobirama whispered as his heart spasmed alongside your flat rasps for air. Blood rushed in his ears and ice-cold through his veins. He struggled to keep the floor under his feet as he staggered closer swiftly. He wouldn’t lose you now. Not after all this, not with the solution to your demise in his hands.

Hashirama didn’t even answer him; his expression was wrinkled by deep concentration and a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Numbly, Tobirama plucked the vial with Zenji’s - his - leash from his pocket and effortlessly opened your mouth. Your skin was icy to the touch and so pale, were it not for your faint chakra signature, he’d have thought you dead already.

The image branded itself into his mind, scarring him forever.

He poured the leash in and tilted your head back so it’d run down your pharynx, giving your scalp a trembling stroke with his hand.

With prickling eyes, he moved to bend over you, place his palms on you as well to assist his brother in healing - no, in keeping you alive. As soon as he established the connection needed for examining and healing, the reality of your condition rolled over him like a boulder. Your body’s reaction to the withdrawal was as violent as ever, just like the substance that was causing it. A proverbial bushfire that had spread throughout all of you. Hashirama wasn’t just stabilizing you alongside the seals - he was taking aggressive action to keep you alive. There wasn’t a part of you he wasn’t actively pouring his own chakra in to keep on working. Were it not for him, you’d be long gone already - in his brother’s chakra’s embrace you’d stay alive, barely, so long as he forced your body to keep on going, and going. Tobirama was positive you were well beyond what you could take any more in terms of another person’s chakra.

The alternative was you dying.

It was another problem they’d deal with later. Swiftly, he began to assist his brother to split up the efforts evenly and try to keep you alive to the best of his abilities.

The next moments felt like an eternity.

Work. Work already. It was all Tobirama could think of while his chakra bolstered your failing heart to keep it on pumping, wound through your lungs into the tiniest alveoles to clear them of fluid and repair tissue damage so that you might breathe.

Just work.

Agonizingly slowly, the drug was taking effect. Already, your chakra began to clog, freeze - the muting component hit your network exactly like the leash would.

Tobirama thought time and his heart both froze in the next few moments that surely decided your fate.

The withdrawal’s flame died down and fizzled out as though water had been poured over it.

Time was starting again.

He started to breathe once more. Before he realised it, he sank to his knees at the side of your bed. He couldn’t focus any more, he barely felt the wheezes that escaped him as a few heavy sobs wrecked his torso.

He had done it. Finally.

The oppressing feeling of time running out - the rock that had been crushing him was lifted.

But the elevation did not last long.

Reality - the parts that weren’t circling around the fact you were at least not going to die due to a lack of the leash - very quickly yanked him back to the situation at hand. Already, he dragged himself up again to aid Hashirama once more, who had not once broken focus. They had stopped the destructive withdrawal, true enough; but the damages it had wrought were not gone of course. Swiftly he gathered himself to concentrate back on aiding his brother in keeping you alive, really, a task no less dire than before. Rather, it was time to tip the scales into the opposite direction now.

He couldn’t say how long the two of them sat in silence, simply forcing you to keep going by continuously pouring their chakra into you.

He wouldn’t lose you - not now, not after everything you both had gone through.

He wouldn’t let you go.

Bit by bit, your body started to function more and more on its own - requiring less of the forceful aid both brothers were providing. That wasn’t to say you were becoming stable at all - tentatively, Hashirama would nudge Tobirama to withdraw some, only to watch you relapse quickly.

As it was, your condition remained critical.

Some time later, his brother allowed himself a momentary almost-break. Hashirama hummed deeply. “She’s well into chakra overload now,” he announced somberly, gazing at your face. “However we can’t stop yet.”

Tobirama’s attention was still mostly turned inwards and towards you as he did the brunt of the work so his brother could catch a breath. There wasn’t a part of you his chakra wasn’t aiding in some way; all he managed was a brief grunt of agreement.

Effectively, chakra overload wasn’t much different than a late allergic reaction of the body to the procedures a medic nin had performed. The extend of what a patient could take and experienced varied from how well-versed the healer was - and Tobirama knew his brother’s skills to be capable of healing fatal wounds without sending the person into overload - but your system barely had been able to catch a break from the agonizingly long time of capture, torture and what effectively just served to keep you alive for more torture. And then of course, all that had followed back home, in Konoha.

But what they had been doing to you for who knew how long?

That was as good as keeping defying death itself.

Hashirama sighed deeply. “I suppose we have no other choice anyway. The next few hours will be decisive.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine, disrupting his strained focus momentarily.

Of course. They couldn’t keep on going like this forever - and neither would you endlessly, readily respond to what they did.

Either you’d start pulling your own weight again, or…

Tobirama swallowed heavily.

Silently, Hashirama’s efforts picked up again alongside his own to stabilise you.

_________

Tobirama had thought weaving the leash was about one of the most straining things he had done. But like so often these last few days, he had been wrong - cradling your very life with his proverbial hands was wrecking him a lot more for numerous reasons - the least of which was the exhaustion setting in.

Because if one thing was keeping him going, it was his determination - he wouldn’t, he couldn’t lose you, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, they had begun to lessen the intensity of the aid they provided and watched whether you relapsed into a more severe state or not. If you did, they settled back to the previous level - and waited again. A tedious procedure, but there was no other way.

Eventually, the time you managed without any aid from him or Hashirama had increased substantially - naturally, the seals on your body still were working strongly, though.

Both were now standing next to your bed, an eerie silence had filled the room, save for your flat, strained breaths.

Hashirama spoke first. “I don’t want to say this is over, yet,” he announced somberly. His mien was drawn, tired. His brother had his limits - keeping someone alive for hours pushed even him. Something told Tobirama he still could have kept on going, though. “Though we will watch now. Her overload is very severe. If she makes the next hours well enough…” He trailed off, giving Tobirama what best could be described as a sad glance.

Tobirama didn’t know what he felt anymore. In these last hours he felt just about any kind of extreme emotion - utter heartbreak, loss, sorrow, murderous fury, followed by exhilaration, followed by despair, topped off with numbing focus.

Truth be told, he could sleep while standing at this point. And yet at the same time, he was restless. He knew - he knew, just a bit longer. Just a bit.

He swallowed heavily. “Alright.” His gaze was locked on your gaunt features still. “We should keep her sedated,” not that he believed for a second you’d be anywhere near waking anytime soon. “There will be no more withdrawal challenges. We’ll keep her chakra locked and use the seals to stabilise her until the overload fades.” Perhaps he was just convincing himself this would work, too.

Hashirama hummed in agreement. “Frankly her weak state may be advantageous. She’s too weak to have much of a too severe reaction now, I believe.”

Tobirama’s gaze flickered momentarily to his brother, then back to you. He hadn’t considered that angle. Then, he sighed deeply. “The irony,” he muttered finally.

A low chuckle was the answer, which irritated Tobirama slightly. However his brother’s gaze bore an honest kind of appreciation he always had a hard time spitting sarcasm at. “Either way, I’m hopeful she’ll make it. You’ve done it. The plan was… daring, but.” He shrugged.

He could only give a curt snort in reply. “I regret not having used my enemy’s pettiness and thirst for revenge for Y/n’s advantage sooner.” The solution had been so obvious when it revealed itself to him in what had been the darkest hour of all this fight. When he had crumbled by your bedside with his brother by his side. He frowned then. “Although it made the show most… credible.”

Hashirama’s mouth formed a thin line again as he nodded. His brother might not have fallen apart like Tobirama did, but his reaction had been just as intense. And just like Tobirama, he had been ready to protect you with any means available. Using his position for a mock execution was nothing difficult. “Now to find a cure.”

Tobirama sighed again and crossed his arms. Luckily, time wouldn’t be pressing him this time. Although he had not spent a single second on the matter, either. “I first will create the leash in such a way Y/n doesn’t need to suffer the psychotropic effects of the base substance anymore.” His baritone voice was firm. With the weight off of his chest, the protectiveness was filling him again. You were not going to suffer any more than you had. And he knew precisely how to make that happen. “It’ll just be medication she has to take regularly.”

Again, his brother hummed affirmatively. “Very well. Even so…,” he frowned then, growing quite stern. “You are going to sleep now. For about a day or three.”

Anger flashed through Tobirama faster than he had truly comprehended the words. “Anija, I will not-”

“Yes. You will.” Hashirama crossed his arms. “You’ve been awake for, what? Forty-eight hours? More? Don’t make me throw you out.”

Tobirama’s voice had risen in volume before he realised it might disturb you, but the ire stewing inside made it near impossible to keep it down. “I most certainly will not before I made the drug more bearable for-”

Something flashed in Hashirama’s eyes. One didn’t need Tobirama’s sensor skills to feel the surge in chakra that his brother emitted - but for him, it was like staring into the sun. Sometimes, it was too much. Like right now.

He yielded with no more than a curt “Alright,” before teleporting to your shared home.

Now, it didn’t feel so forlorn anymore.

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

Something Familiar

Chapter 1: Conditional Exchange

Sharing his house with someone else after years of living alone took some getting used to. And while he was a horrible patient, Silas was a great housemate. Daniel didn’t know how much of that came naturally to Silas, and how much of it was his fear of getting kicked out. He’d done enough prying already so he wasn’t all that inclined to ask. That and Silas has only just started talking to him after they had made their contract. The contract was a simple thing; Daniel would provide healing and a place to stay in exchange for magic. The conditions were that Silas remain in an animal form whenever Daniel had company or patients; and Daniel couldn’t alter Silas’s consciousness or state of awareness without explicit permission to do so. It was a small thing and Silas still hadn’t spoken to him anymore than what was strictly necessary for three and a half months. Of course things had come to a head eventually because Daniel had never been one to mind his own business. In a fight that he had ultimately caused, he learned a whole lot more about what Silas had been through than he had ever thought he would be allowed to know. Exactly how many traumatic things their contract had brought back to the fore front of his mind. It had made Daniel feel sick and he had done what he could to make it up to Silas. Which amounted to leaving the house for a little over a week so Silas could have room to breathe.

Understandably, things changed after that. Daniel learned to tread more carefully around Silas and made more of an effort to learn about his situation. It was admittedly something he should have done before they made the contract. It was too late to change anything though, as it had already been drawn up and sealed. They still agreed to new unspoken rules and began to live more like housemates than contracted partners. He spent a lot of time teaching Silas about the things he had missed. Silas taught him long forgotten healing magic and a few secrets that had been lost when the shapeshifter settlements had been destroyed. They used very little magic and almost felt like cheating compared to what he was used to. Daniel was tentative to call them friends, but at the very least they were no longer strangers in the same space. Silas often had horrible nightmares. Daniel was woken up pretty often to his cries of fear or pain, and on some occasions screaming. Though the nights those dreams didn’t wake Silas were the ones that worried him most. In the morning he would find Silas on the balcony watching the sunrise with tea or coffee in his hands, still steaming but long forgotten all the same. Some days he would be crying silently, and some days he would be blank and neutral; but there was always this hollow distance darkening his eyes.

As soon as he woke up Daniel knew he would find Silas on the balcony. The night had been a quiet one with no screaming and no tears. Which meant whatever had chosen to haunt him would be doing so in his waking hours instead. Daniel wished almost desperately that there was something he could do to help, but Silas never answered him when he offered. He would just look at him with that dark oppressive distance in his eyes. So lost to whatever memories that had chosen to torture him that Daniel was unable to reach him. He took his time to get out of bed and ready for the day. Silas wouldn’t be ready to talk for a while, and it didn’t matter when Daniel came up to check on him. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t be eaten until it had long gone cold if at all he still made Silas breakfast. Though he had gained some of it back, Silas was still concerningly underweight. Daniel made his way up to the balcony with the try. There Silas stood. As close to the edge of the balcony as he could get with the railing in his way. There were trying tear tracks on his cheeks and the steam of his coffee was curling away into the morning light. He always used the same mug. A pale nondescript thing that he had found in the back of one of Daniel’s cabinets. The difference today was that the distance in his eyes was somehow darker, and he held the mug in a white knuckle grip.

Whatever was after him this morning had to be particularly painful. As it always did, Daniel’s curiosity weighed heavily on him. He knew better than to ask though. Silas never answered him when he was like this. Which is exactly why Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin when he spoke. “There were three of us you know.” His voice was flat as he spoke. There was no emotion to it, not even pain. His grip tightened on the coffee cup and Daniel feared it might break. Silas didn’t seem to notice, “That made it out. Me and then two of my brothers. I lost them in our mad dash to get out, and now I don’t even know if they are alive.” He blinked and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, “After everything we had been through I couldn’t be bothered to stay. I ran like a fucking coward and sold myself out in a desperate bid to survive. Some fucking brother I am.” For all his wishing that Silas would speak his mind, Daniel didn’t actually know how to respond now that he knew. Saying that he was sorry felt hollow and fake, and not to mention it was too little way too late. He couldn’t really relate; he and Simon had parted ways amicably. Daniel set the tray down and tried to gather his thoughts. Figure out a way to bring Silas some long overdue comfort. If there was even a way to soothe such deep regret.

He was out of his depth and grasping at straws at this point. “In a few weeks you’ll be healed enough to safely handle mildly strenuous activity. We could go looking for them if you would like.” “Why? So you can add them to your collection?” Came the sharp reply. Angry and emotionless at the same time, “So you can have a complete set of the last shapeshifters known to man?” “No.” Daniel said firmly, “So you can have some damn closure and a place to go once this contract is up. I actually want you to be safe believe it or not.” There was a long rather uncomfortable silence as Silas came back from whatever distant place in his mind that held him. His shoulders slumped as he came into the posture of a man defeated by his own thoughts. He set the mug down on the table beside the tray and Daniel saw the start of a crack. He would have to mend it one of these days so Silas could keep using it. “I’m sorry.” Silas said eventually. “You have been nothing but kind to me, and yet I still fear completely offering you my trust. You may very well be the only human with my best interests at heart and I keep pushing you away.” He finally turned to face Daniel and there was a deep sadness to his eyes, grief hung over him, “I'll think about it but that is asking a lot of faith from me; and for now I think I would rather be alone.”

“I understand.” Daniel kept his voice level though it took him a lot of effort, “I’ll be in the house if you need me.” Silas gave an absent nod and Daniel went back inside. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered at all. Looking back, it did seem like he had malicious intent in that. He hadn’t meant it that way of course, but all of the humans Silas had ever met had been unspeakably cruel to him. Daniel should have been more careful with his words, or just kept the idea to himself. It was too late now of course, it was out there now and there was no taking it back no matter how badly he wanted to. He set about cleaning the house to keep himself occupied. He wasn’t expecting any patients today, so barring an emergency, all he had to keep his mind busy was cleaning an research. Had he been feeling particularly ambitious, he might have started on a travel plan; but he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to push Silas toward an answer. He sighed quietly, “Good to know I still have a knack for getting in over my head when it comes to trying to help. Some things never change I suppose.” It was just his nature to be overly concerned for those around him to the point of being an annoyance it seemed.

The afternoon was slowly turning to evening by the time Silas was ready to be around him again. He didn’t say a word though. Just walked into the kitchen and began to clean his dishes. Daniel was at the table going over his medical books and making a list of things he would need to pick up the next time he went into town. He was glad to see Silas had at least eaten something while he battled with his thoughts. Silas seemed a little more composed now at the very least. That made him feel a little better, even if it didn’t shake off his guilt. “I’m sorry Silas.” He eventually said, “For this morning. It was insensitive and out of line.” Silas laughed and the sound was dry and humorless. It was an unpleasant shock to Daniel. He had never heard Silas laugh and this was definitely not the context he had wanted to hear it in. “Was it?” He asked sharply, “Are you rescinding your offer to help me find my only remaining relatives then?” “Well no.” Daniel started. “I just - I wanted you to know that I meant no offense by it. I feel like I’ve messed something up, and I want to know how to fix it.” He sighed quietly, “I hate seeing you so upset.”

Silas deflated some and that same posture of defeat returned, “It’s a matter of learning to trust you. My entire life so far has been spent fearing humans. I just have to keep in mind that you haven’t posed any danger to me yet.” He looked down, “I’m sorry for being so... defensive, I guess would be the word for it.” “You’re alright.” Daniel said gently, “These things take time. Even at that you have a lot of trauma to work through and - “ “Daniel stop.” Silas cut him off, “I need someone to listen to me not psychoanalysis. Believe me, I am well aware of my trauma and the power imbalance of our dynamic. I don’t need a reminder.” “Right.” He replied, “It can be hard to turn my doctor off sometimes.” “I understand. It’s the only way people will acknowledge you so it has become your primary mode of existing.” He said, apparently he was out for Daniel’s soul today, “You’re more than that to me you know. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a friend actually.” “First of all ow. Secondly, what happened to not psychoanalyzing one another?” He replied with a laugh, “I’m glad you almost think of me as a friend.”

Silas smiled and Daniel was pretty sure it was the first real smile he had ever seen from him. “I figured that you’ve done it to me enough times that I deserved a turn.” “Fair enough.” Daniel began to pick up his books and put them away. His list was as complete as it was going to get until he ran inventory. “How many weeks?” Silas asked after a long stretch of silence, “Until we can leave?” Daniel paused for a moment as he thought about it, “Six if you mind your limitations; eight to twelve if you keep ignoring them.” Silas frowned, “That was a lot more than I was hoping.” “You’ve been stubborn.” He remarked, “Agitating old injuries and coming away from your little excursions with new ones. You need rest.” “Fine.” He said as he looked toward the bookshelf, “I’ll be a better patient from here on out. Six weeks to look for a place to start should be enough.” Daniel smiled, “Of course it will.” Silas nodded his agreement and retreated back into his thoughts. He took traveler’s guides and the few maps Daniel had then settled on his bed to look them over. Daniel started to run inventory of his supplies and started on a list of traveling provisions. They would have to be ready for anything. Daniel had never traveled farther than the town after finding his place here; and the world had changed a lot since Silas had been in it last. They were venturing out into the unknown.

#Something Familiar #SF AU #daniel60 #dbh daniel #dbh sixty #fantasy au #dbh fic #dbh #mental health tw #ptsd tw

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asknerdizzy · 3 years

Text

Sirens Call Arc 3/3

“Did you kill all of these people!?” Izzy exclaimed mortified at the scene before her. Haven herself had to looked away from Kerberos holding her hand up to her mouth.

“No f***ing sh** Sherlock. Did you figure that out all by yourself toots?” He drawled out, not at all fazed by the carnage he had created.

“Now if you a**hats could get out of my way. That would be fan-f***ing-tastic. Or would you like to join the lot of ‘em”

“That won’t be happening.” Shard glared having his stand [Another Way Out] put up a barrier that surrounded Kerberos.

With a smirk Kerberos looks up and down Shard humming to himself. “You’ll be fun. I’m Kerberos, and this is my little friend [Pink Party].” Setting down the Stand Bow to the ground. A pink looking stand with a muzzle appears behind Kerberos in the barrier. The Stand proceeds to rapidly claws at the barrier, soon tearing it to shreds.

Shard takes a step back shocked as Kerberos pounces at him. As he does this, [Pink Party] destroy/ the floor beneath the two of them. Having them fall to the next floor. Izzy scrambles over and grabs the bow, and tries to go after Shard. Ready to jump in after him, but she’s,stopped by Haven.

“Now that he’s distracted we can get the bow to a safe location.”

“But I can’t just sit here while Shard is fighting that man! I should back him up however I can.”

“I think Shard can take care of himself. Either way, you don’t know the situation enough to go jumping down there Willy nilly. You could get in the way, or worse, get hurt.

Izzy thought it over and reluctantly had to agree.

“Let’s go to the roof. It’ll be hard for anyone to try and get us from up there.”

Izzy looks over at the hole, and reluctantly follows Haven. Wishing the best for Shard.

———————————————————————

Meanwhile Shard and Kerberos land with a loud thud on top of a huge aquarium full of colorful exotic fish. A crack forming at the impact, but the glass is somehow still intact.

Kerberos is the first one to get up. He crouched down as he allows his Stand [Pink Party] to scratch him for a partial transformation.. His wolffish grin becoming more feral as his canines grew to fangs, his nails extending into claws, and his ears becoming more wolf like.

“C’mon it’s time to Party! Come at me!” Kerberos growls out as he goes in low to slash at Shard. A barrier blocks the assault. With Shard deftly dodging out of the way.

Kerberos goes to attack Shard again in a flurry of blows. Leaving Shard with many cuts and bruisers as he keeps dodging each attack with his stand until he had an opening to upper cut Kerberos in the face.

His head flings back and he tumbles backward. However the opening made way for Kerberos to badly cut Shards arm in the process.

By how things were going so far Shard wouldn’t win. It was time for a different plan. Looking down he saw the cracks in the aquarium. That could work…

“I hope you like fish!” Shard uses [Another Way Out] and his own fist to further crack the aquarium until it finally broke underneath them.

“SH**!” Kerberos curses as he falls, fully submerging into the aquarium, while Shard stands on top of a barrier to keep him out of the water.

Trying to swim back up Kerberos is blocked by multiple barriers. Angry gurgling and pounding ensue, as Kerberos keeps trying to get out of the water. His best bet was trying to break the glass on the sides or swim up, but he keeps getting bombarded by barriers. Making it impossible for him to do any substantial damage to escape.

After a few minutes Kerberos passes out much to Shards relief. He mulls over if he should save him, and ultimately decides to jump in and drag Kerberos out. He should have some information that could be useful to the SPW. First and foremost Shard puts anti-stand cuffs before he starts to preform CPR on the man. Coughing out water Kerberos becomes alert for a moment, but passes right back with a swift karate chop from Shard to the neck.

Shard slumps over wet and exhausted on a nearby table. He used some of his coat to wrap around the worst of his wounds as he caught his breath.

“Wait…Am I forgetting something? Sh** I left Izzy alone!”

He shoots back up with new vigor running back to the theater floor where he last saw her.

———————————————————————

Izzy and Haven make it up to the roof without any trouble. “Okay give me a moment I have to call the SPW for some backup.” Izzy readjusts the bow in her grip as she pulls out a portable phone. After a few back and forth Izzy hangs up.

“They should be here any minute now. All we got to do is wait up here.”

“I-mmh-this may be unprofessional of me, but can we do a victory hug. This is my first mission and it being a successful and all….” She trails off bashful about her request.

“It’s totally fine! Come here.” Izzy pulls the taller woman into a big hug.

“It’s too bad that I have to do this.” Haven says as she brings out a dagger tipped with paralysis venom, plunging it into Izzy’s back. “We could have been such good friends, but you just had to commit the deadly sin of getting in my way.” Havens voice becomes intertwined with a deep masculine voice. As they push the dagger deeper into the paralyzed Izzy. They stab her again and again in multiple areas to make sure that she couldn’t do anything, and pushes her to the ground.

Everything was happening so fast she couldn’t react. Izzy coughed up blood, and found herself unable to summon her Stand. Internally she was panicking, and starting to get woozy from the loss of blood. She looks up at Haven trying to figure out what was happening. If she had to guess, it appeared as if there were two separate beings in front of her, but using the same body in harmony.

How could she have been so stupid to be tricked like this so easily.

“You should really consider not using code words. I just had to torture one of your members for it and you completely trusted me. Though I think it helps that I’m such a good actor.” They say more so to themselves, as they yank the bow out of Izzy’s hands. “Now I think I’ll be taking this.”

———————————————————————

Ardram finally arrives at the casino running inside. As he’s running he fetches the watch inside his coat, and opens it revealing a tiny bunny Stand inside. “Okay where is she!?”

“Noneedtobesorude. She’sotheroof.” [Out Of Touch] blurts out rapidly. Ardram clamps the watch shut, putting it back into his pocket. He full on sprints up, pushing whatever gets in his way to the side

Once he reaches the roof he found horrible scene unfolding before his eyes. A passed out Izzy lying in a pool of her own blood, and a blond haired individual, with a flickering being next to them. It wasn’t a Stand, but he couldn’t care less at that moment as he saw the blond standing over Izzy about to plunge a dagger into her chest.

Immediately Ardram uses [Fools Gold] to have a gold spike come up and try to impale the offending individual. They dodge at the last moment and look over at Ardram with a smirk.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.”

“Oh no you f***ing don’t.” Ardram yells with a look of pure unbridled rage on his face. As gold starts to cover the roof.

“Oh, I think I will.” They say as they go over to the ledge of the roof. “You could one, fight me right now, but she’ll certainly bleed out to death before our spar ends. Or two, you could ignore me and get her to a doctor. In the hopes that she’ll live. I think we both know which choice you’re going to make.”

Ardram just grits his teeth as he runs over and gently picks up Izzy. “I’m going to f***ing kill you once I see you again.”

“Oh do try. It’ll be a futile effort though.” With that Haven jumps off the building. Shadows enveloping them into darkness. Leaving no trace of them ever being there or the Stand Bow.

Ardram runs down holding Izzy’s body close to his own. He could still hear and feel her heart beat, and she was still warm to the touch. She could make it. She will make it.

He finds Shard when he running over to him looking quite pale , but looks even paler once he sees the horrible state Izzy is in. Ardram reluctantly hands her over to Shard with an unreadable expression on his face. “Heal her.”

Shard summons his Stand trying to stabilize her enough for when the paramedics would arrive. Ardram had to walk out for a moment to collect himself. He wasn’t much help when it came to trying to keep people alive, unless he made them undead. He found himself in the theater where the auction happened

Ariel stirs, and opens her eyes to see Ardram. She knew who he was from the debriefing her boss gave her, and by the look on his face the plan worked. She grins wanting to gloat their victory to the vampires face, “Looks like the boss’s plan worked. Is the pint sized b**** dead, or is it that masked freak? Hopefully both of em are rotting.” She cruelly laughs.

Without a word a gold spike erupts and pierces Ariels skull. Killing her instantly. “Oops, my hand slipped.” He numbly states, not even sparring a glance at the woman. He leaves the room once he hears the sound of sirens and rapid footsteps approaching.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 4

Hello, and let me once again introduce you to the whimsical world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

As Luz glanced back between Amity’s pale face, and Willow’s nearly bursting rage, the pieces started coming together. With widened eyes, she said, “Wow. She didn’t remember you at all? That is cold.” She shook her head, her cautious respect for the ambitious woman having taken a hit. She bit her lip. “Are you two going to be okay?” She hesitantly asked, her and Gus looking concerned at the reactions of the two girls.

“I-!” Willow started, before pausing, the anger draining out of her face. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t worth the effort.” She said, sounding exhausted and drained. She sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

“Indeed, let’s.” Amity stated, face regaining some hints of color. With that awkward moment finally passing, the group headed into what they assumed was the room Amity had staked out to host the Moonlight Conjuring in. Before too long, the rest of the guests had started coming in: Amelia, Cat, Selena, Bo, and Skara. There weren't many, but they came all the same.

The girls froze upon seeing Luz, Amelia audibly gulping at the sight of her. The group frantically glanced back and forth between Luz in front of them, and Skara, situated at the back. Luz resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help any. She sighed, “Okay, look, I’m not going to assume I know why you’re all freaked out over me being here, though I do have a guess. I’m the security you were promised, and as long as I’m here, I’ll keep you all safe. Okay?” She finished, a note of hesitance in her voice.

“During the attack, someone I cared about was killed.”

The group turned towards Skara, staring straight at Luz, a blank, empty look in her eyes. Bo reached out, only for her arm to be gently pushed away. She stepped forward. “His name was Batthew. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, and he always went overboard. And now he’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she had no hope, no joy inside of her at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luz said softly. If Skara was going to blame her for her friend’s death, she wouldn’t fight it.

Skara lightly shook her head. “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault those maniacs killed him.” She stated, getting bewildered looks from all. Tears started to prick at the corners of Skara’s eyes. “All I want to say is thank you for avenging him. Even if you didn’t fight his killer, you helped stop those sickos, and prevented any more people from feeling the hurt I felt.”

Luz blinked, feeling some measure of relief that she didn’t hate her. That relief quickly shifted to guilt when she reminded herself Skara was grateful for stopping the people who had killed her crush/boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen the kind of things the Black Dogs get up to when allowed to rampage.” She shuddered at the mental image. “I was more than glad to stop them.” She said gravely. She and Skara shared a solemn nod at her words.

With that, the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Amity’s friends were still noticeably nervous around Luz, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and a few, such as Bo, even made an active effort to talk and interact with her.

“No way! Humans don’t have healing magic!?” Bo exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, sorta,” Luz said sheepishly, scratching her head in embarrassment. “Back in the old days, it was a pretty common tactic of warring groups to attack enemy healers to deprive the opposition of their skills, as well as destroying information sources when capturing them wasn’t an option. Because of that, a lot of forms of magic and magical arts were all but lost, including Healing.” She finished, a soft frown on her face.

“Oh my Titan, that must be horrible!” Bo said, heart aching in sympathy of those whose lives were lost because they didn’t have access to healing magic.

“Yeah, I was honestly a little shocked when I learned that the Isles had healing magic.” Luz chuckled, arms crossed over her chest. “Still, efforts have been made to bring back Healing Magic, with assistance from those practitioners still alive in the world. Last I heard, Fiore, my home country, had actually established a school exclusively for the study and research of Healing Magic!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Bo sighed. “It might’ve come late, but at least it’s there now, and people can go get treatment when they need it, right?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” Luz said, cracking a sad grin. “Just wish it had come a little sooner.” She muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

Willow and Amelia were currently having a discussion about Plants. By all accounts, Willow was giving Amelia some pointers for upcoming assignments, particularly those dealing with more aggressive breeds of plants. Amelia frantically scribbled down the tips and suggestions Willow offered.

“Good, good, I can work with this!” Amelia excitedly exclaimed, relief and joy shining in her eyes. She turned to Willow, an embarrassed smile on her face. “You are seriously amazing at this!”

“It’s just some stuff I’ve pieced together in my free time.” Willow shrugged noncommittally. “I’m happy to share it if people think they need it, I just don’t see anything really special about it.”

Amelia gave a rueful grin, shaking her head. “And that’s why it’s so incredible! You figured all this stuff out on your own, when it took actual, fully-trained adults years to discover this stuff!” She gave Willow a sad smile. “You really are amazing.”

Willow averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Amelia may not have been as… aggressive as Boscha was at even her best, but she was still part of the group that made her school life difficult. But… Willow couldn’t find it in her to stay mad at the girl. She certainly didn’t like her, but she didn’t dislike her either. “Thanks, I guess?” She ultimately mumbled out.

Amelia briefly searched Willow’s face in confusion, before sighing in realization. “Look, Willow? About the whole ‘Half-a-Witch’ thing…” She started, proceeding carefully at Willow’s sharp look.

“Yeah?” Willow drawled, hackles raised.

Amelia bit her lip slightly, before continuing. “I’m sorry. It was a seriously lame thing to do, and to let Boscha and Amity get away with. Even if we weren’t friends, we could’ve done something to try and make things easier for you, but we just went along with it because it was easier.” She turned clear eyes towards Willow’s suspicious gaze. “It may not mean much now, but I will try and make things up to you. If that’s okay with you?” She gave a hopeful smile.

Willow mulled it over… but she didn’t feel any suspicions rousing at Amelia’s words. Sighing, she finally said, “I’m willing to give you a chance. I really don’t know how to feel about you and the others here.” She glanced over at Luz and Bo. “I honestly only came because my parents insisted, and because Gus and Luz were going to be here. But, if you really are serious about being sorry,” She gave a hesitant grin. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” The two shared a nervous laugh. A thought came to Willow. “Hey, do you know why Boscha isn’t here?” She asked.

Amelia gave a snort. “Amity didn’t invite her, and considering how she’s been acting, that’s probably for the best.” She explained, getting a look of mixed confusion and concern from Willow. She elaborated, “Boscha basically screamed her head off at Skara and sent her into tears after she burned her, and she’s been avoiding everyone ever since. And between her and Skara, every one of us chose to stick by Skara.” She finished. Willow pondered the topic. As much as Boscha had caused her grief and some heartache over the years, she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone. She’d probably talk about it with Luz later.

Gus was surprisingly hitting it off rather well with Cat and Skara. Cat had basically volunteered to be Skara’s backup nurse for when Bo wasn’t around or when Bo just needed to take a break for herself. Skara frankly thought Gus was hilarious, even if she wasn’t really in a laughing mood, as his energy and nervousness gave him a unique air to him.

“-And so yeah, Bo’s a member of the HAS!” Gus finished explaining, getting a look of shared amusement from his conversation partners. “I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened, our group and the Human Roleplay Society is gonna get a lot of dirty looks after the attack.” He concluded, a look of bashfulness and sadness filling his features.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to join the HAS to send a message.” Skara remarked, getting an incredulous look from Gus, and a snort of amusement from Cat. “I’m serious! You shouldn’t be getting harassed because of what someone else did. Plus,” She gave a nervous smile, “It’ll let me hang out with Bo more often.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn away new members!” Gus excitedly cheered.

“I’ll bet.” Cat remarked sardonically, giving a loose shrug.

Unbeknownst to any of the guests, Amity had slipped away, stalking through her home on the search for her parents. The scowl on her face would’ve sent even the toughest of the Isles’ residents backpedalling. She roughly shoved her way past the assorted Abomination servants, utterly unwilling to deal with even the slightest of delays. Eventually, she made it to her father’s workshop, him STILL tinkering over his pet project, her mother calmly sipping her tea next to him while going over some of the paperwork from the family business. “Mother, Father.” She said with tightly controlled politeness.

“Ah, Mittens! How is the party going?” Her mother cordially asked, while her father gave a grunt of acknowledgement as to her presence. Odalia stood up, moving closer, pulling Amity to her side. “I must say, I am most impressed, sweety! Cultivating new relationships for the future with exceptional individuals, a stroke of brilliance!” She said, a proud smile across her face.

“Thank you.” Amity bit out, before continuing, “But what I actually came to talk to you about is-”

“MITTENS!!” Emira’s voice rang out, accompanied by frantic pounding. “GET ME AND ED OUT OF HERE!!!”

Amity turned a confused glance towards Odalia. “Emira was rather adamant about supervising your Conjuring, and when I tried to put my foot down, she… objected, rather aggressively. I had to seal her and Edric in the panic room so they wouldn’t get up to any mischief.” Her mother sheepishly explained, looking both pleased and annoyed at the ferocity her eldest daughter had displayed.

“I can understand locking up Emira,” Amity stated, quirking an eyebrow. “But why Edric?”

“Mittens, we both know he would free her in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than because it is Emira.” Odalia drolly stated, causing a brief moment of solidarity to pass between the two. Yes, they were both very familiar with Edric’s peculiarities and the sheer depth of his loyalty to his twin. “Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mittens?” Odalia finally asked, getting back on track.

Amity breathed in deep, forcibly holding back her anger. “When you spoke with Willow, you implied that you only knew her through our confrontation at school, would that be accurate?” She tersely asked, getting a look of baffled surprise from Odalia, and a raised brow from Alador.

“Well, yes! Where else would I know her from?” Odalia rhetorically asked, a note of borderline condescension coloring her voice.

“Hmm… I must say, that name does seem familiar, but I can’t recall from where.” Alador muttered.

Amity’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here’s a hint. My fifth birthday.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Odalia demanded in bewilderment, even as Alador mulled the hint over.

Alador snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah yes! Now I remember! Willow was the name of one of Amity’s playmates when she was little. When we noticed that she wasn’t developing as fast as her peers, we had Amity sever ties at her… fifth… birthday- oh.” He said, his usual tired expression widening into pale realization, even as Odalia’s own face shifted into horrified realization as the implications sunk in.

“Yes, oh.” Amity echoed, a look of bitter amusement on her face. She turned on her heel. “That was all the confirmation I needed. I believe that I will spend the remainder of the evening seeing to my guests. Mother, father.” And with that, she power-walked away, ignoring her mother’s cries to come back, to talk things over, as if she would. Amity ripped her necklace off, shoving it into her pocket, in no mood to hear her mother’s voice in her head tonight. Yet another blotch had appeared in her mental image of her parents. It was honestly mostly a black smear at this point anyway.

Eda glanced out at the sky, seeing that the Night Market was about to open, if the encroaching darkness was a solid indicator. She called over her shoulder, “Come on, King! We’ve got a shady seller to see about some potions!”

“Weh! I’m ready to go!” King cried, running up to her side, putting on a look of fierce (adorable) determination. She cracked a smirk at that. The two headed out, giving Hooty permission to use any and all means to defend the house in their absence, prompting a delighted shout of excitement from the friendly, if annoying, House Demon. Neither noticed, the heavy figure moving through the branches of the trees, stalking them on their approach to town, nor its bloodthirsty grin.

Luz glanced up from her discussion with Skara at Amity’s arrival to the room. “Hey Blight!” She cheerfully called out, only for her expression to shift into concern at Amity’s gloomy demeanor. “Something wrong?”

Amity sighed, waving off her concern. “It’s nothing, just an unpleasant talk with my parents.”

“Oh no, are they kicking us out!?” Gus exclaimed, a look of panicked despair crossing his face. He turned to Willow, clinging to her dress. “This is it! The moment of hopelessness as our dreams are dashed to pieces! Willow my friend, it was fun while it lasted!” He cried, sobbing into her dress, much to Willow’s exhaustion.

“What!?” Amity asked, baffled, before shaking it off. “No, you’re not getting kicked out, I just had something unpleasant confirmed. Please, you’re free to stay.” She said, bemused at the cheer of relief Gus let out, even as Luz and Willow shook their heads in amusement at his antics.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to start doing the job you recruited me for.” Luz said with a joking tone, heading for the door. She flicked a finger gun towards the group. “Save me some snacks for when I get back, okay?”

“Will do!” Willow called back.

Snorting in amusement, Luz made her way to the front door, planning on crawling up to the top of the roof for a vantage point against any attackers. Plus, she thought standing on a roof by moonlight was badass. Chuckling to herself at her inner geek rearing its head, Luz pulled the door open, only to go still at what she saw. Seven humans, all standing outside the door, staring her down. However, what really drew her gaze was the figure in the center, someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Neon!?” Luz exclaimed in shock.

“LuLu!” The girl exclaimed, jumping towards Luz in a flying hug. The blue-haired girl eagerly buried her face into Luz’s side, a look of childish excitement covering her face. “Oh I just knew it was you!!” She pulled back, her face puffing out in a pout. “And here you are, having a fun-time slumber party without me!” She whined, flailing her arms. Luz felt her face go deadpan, even as the others, guards she figured, sighed in exhaustion at the antics of their charge. Yup, this was definitely Neon. Neon crossed her arms, a look of defiance covering her, admittedly adorable, features. “And since I’m here, I’m gonna be joining this party, whether you like it or not!”

“There is absolutely no way I’m talking you out of this, is there?” Luz droned, already resigned to the excitable girl’s antics.

“Nope!”

Amity busied herself with the setup for the Conjuring, intently ignoring the glances the others sent her way. She wasn’t distracting herself from the confirmation that, yes, her parents were callous enough to completely disregard one of the most bitter memories in her life, not in the slightest.

“Hey, guys?” Luz’s voice called out, drawing the attention of the group to the door. “We might have a situation!” Everyone was instantly on guard; Bo, Cat, and Amelia were nervous, seriously wondering if they were in danger, while Skara and Gus grew nervous but steeled themselves, even as Willow and Amity braced themselves for an attack. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we’ve got some… surprise guests is all!”

With that said, Luz walked into the room. Everyone instantly took note of the girl tightly clinging to Luz’s side, a thin girl, roughly around their age, with messy blue hair held up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon, a long-sleeved purple striped shirt under a vest, a long skirt going to her calves. She was beautiful, with delicate features that screamed innocence and gentleness, with brilliant blue eyes shining outward. Following behind them were six other humans, all varying in appearance, the only commonality being the immaculate black suits they wore.

“Um, Luz?” Willow tentatively asked. “Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the girl tightly hugging Luz’s side.

“Ugh, everyone, this is Neon Nostrade. She’s a friend of mine from the Human Realm. Neon, these are my friends and acquaintances from the Demon Realm.” Luz intoned, introducing the girl to the group and vice versa.

“Oooh!! It’s so amazing to meet you all! I am Neon, heiress of the Nostrade family, and these are my guards!” She cheerfully announced, wildly gesturing to the group behind her. “Basho,” She pointed to the tallest, a muscular man with a cleft chin, pompadour, mustache and sideburns, who gave a friendly wave, “Piper,” a round, short figure with prominently pointed front teeth, long hair with a significant bald spot on top who gave a small nod, “Baise,” a beautiful woman whose hair was done up in an intricate braided top-knot offered a short wave, “Tocino,” A gangly fellow with bright orange hair offered a smile, “Squala,” a darker skinned man with tightly pinned back hair gave a two-fingered salute, “and Kurapika!” The last guard, a handsome young man with rich blond hair, gave a bow, a polite smile on his face. Neon turned a sweet grin to the group. “They keep me safe from meanies who wanna steal my predictions!”

The assembled witches numbly waved in greeting. They all turned to Luz, who groaned.

“Look, I have no idea how they got here, but I can vouch for Neon, and I know her dad screens her guards to an insane degree. They won’t be a risk to us.” She stated, nodding to the group.

“Oh LuLu, you say the nicest things!” Neon cheered, eagerly hugging Luz’s arm.

“LuLu?” Amity questioned.

“Uh huh, LuLu!” Neon eagerly agreed. “LuLu was my very first bodyguard! Originally, papa kept me tucked away so my future husband would be the first person outside the family to see me!” The Witches paled. “But then I figured out fun magic, and papa made a bunch more money than usual, and he said I wasn’t gonna have a husband anymore, and he had his business buddies give him LuLu to protect me!” She cheerfully explained. “After that, LuLu took me into town a bunch and I had lots of fun! I got to shop for my own clothes, and didn’t have to wear dolly dresses anymore, and got to eat yummy food that wasn’t just veggies and water, and I even met a nice man who was getting money for his sick momma’s medicine and I gave him a bunch of money, but LuLu took him into an Alley and gave him her money and got mine back!” She just kept rambling away, even as her guards slumped over in exhausted resignation, a matching expression on Luz’s face.

“Hey, Neon? We’ve got some snacks set up, if you want any.” Luz said, pointing to the tray of goodies.

“Ooh! Yummy!” Neon cheered, rushing for the treats, eagerly stuffing them into her mouth.

The blond guard, Kurapika, spoke up. “Please excuse the Young Miss. She means well, but… she doesn’t have the most experience with the real world, I’m afraid.” He formally stated, giving a deep bow to the Witches. As he pulled up, he added, “I believe it is accurate of me to say that we are very grateful for you allowing us in. When the Young Miss overheard that her friend,” he gestured to Luz, who was currently staring at a wall, dead to the world, “was going to be attending a gathering at night with a group of youths, she insisted we come.” He sighed.

“By all means, this is no trouble.” Amity stated diplomatically, compartmentalizing the barrage of information Neon had blurted out, focusing on the gentlemen before her. Noticing the nervousness of the others, she asked, “Forgive me, but our Isles have recently been attacked by a group known as Oroboros, and everyone is on edge when it comes to humans, and while I mean no offense, I have to ask, do you have any association with them?”

The guards gained matching looks of dark loathing. “No, we do not.” Kurapika stated, his voice a mask of tightly controlled cool politeness. He relaxed slightly as he explained, “We were hired to guard Miss Neon so as to keep her predictive magic from being taken, along with her. While her father is, unfortunately, a high-ranking financier for Oroboros, we fortunately exist outside of that nest of darkness’ command structure.”

Amity nodded, filing away the information. “While I’m not sure how much you can actually say, would you care to explain how you all got to the Isles?”

As Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Neon’s shout. “We passed through a big gate filled with water, and then Zoop! We were on the Isles!” She cheerfully called over, before resuming stuffing her face. Her guards just sighed, nodding at her words.

“What Miss Neon says is true.” Kurapika stated with a rueful grin. “While we don’t know its precise nature, we entered this Realm through the use of a Water Magic based portal. It was… quite the experience.” He finished, a look of embarrassment crossing his features at some memory.

“Thank you.” Amity said, moving over to Luz, who was still staring a whole into the wall. She pulled in close, harshly whispering into her ear. “That girl mentioned she had been kept in seclusion until her marriage. How old was she to be during it?”

“Thirteen.” Luz growled out. “The fact creep was one of the few people I’ve killed and not regretted, at least not outside the abstract regret of killing at all. I honestly would’ve preferred to expose the corrupt monster, but I had to settle for putting him out of people’s misery.” She turned a burning glare towards Amity. “And Neon’s dad is even worse.”

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omega-queen-collects-lipstick · 3 years

Note

I'm a bit of a Greek mythology nerd can I get a god au? Maybe mc is a human they fall in love with or a nymph or something? Sorry I just reread my old mythology books and it came to my mind... And i wanna see your boys in the situation :D

Ah cute little river nymph Mc. She was origionally a little mountain brook and then temperatures rose and she's a large river that ends in the cutest little lake.

She happily heals those who come to her for aid. She blesses items and retrieves lost treasures.

Only problem?

She can't leave to far from her waters. She was the first born nymph in the river so her lifeline is directly tied to the waters. Granted she could set up a small pond maybe using a piece of gem like from the cave in which her life was breathed into her and dropping it in a small body of water.

She has the prettiest water wings from her back she uses to drift around under water. An odd water lotus protrudes from her skull and opens shuts and glows different colors based on her mood.

Now the boys. Ohohoho. No they aren't gods. No their demigods. Direct and favored children of the gods.

Erik surprisingly is the son of Zeus. He is highly favored but very quiet from the abuse of Zeus's wife hera.

She constantly sends him on traumatizing journeys and while he gets glory with every win he also retains a lot of mental damage.

And no one seems to notice or care.

Except for Mc.

She noticed the second he came up to her questing for her rivers sacred pearl. (Lodged in the heart of the lotus on her head.) She said one thing to him and that was it for him.

"dearest traveler, your heart and mind are scarred let me heal it in hopes you won't end the precious life you hold."

He couldn't slay Mc for the pearl when you look at him with such kindness and offer to give healing to him, her would be slayer.

He quite thoughtlessly walked into her waters. She could have drowned him as many nymph's do for fun but she refrained and instead brought his skull into her chest as she slowly waded till they were in the middle of the river. Her eyes never leave his and that's probably why he didn't panic when she sank them both into the water.

Next thing he knows he wakes to his head in MCs lap and his body- no- his very soul feeling much lighter than it ever has.

He gladly took his punishment for not killing the nymph maiden.

Quicksilver is the child of hades. Scorned and raised to be selfish and cruel because no one will love him once they know his birth origins. So why even attempt to be anything other than they'll all assume he is.

Except for mc it seems.

He came to her seeking aid for a cracked skull. Being the son of the god of riches he threw a sack of coins at her feet.

"what use have I of such trivial things when your company and joy is far sweeter."

Predictably he assumed mc was just trying to get more out of him and got angry. He didn't understand her genuineness. Nobody is so pure especially not a nymph. Rumors about this one be damned.

So he left the bag there yelled at her a bit and stomped off. However next thing he knows he wakes up drooling into her boobs completely healed and relaxed.

Of Course he doesn't exactly respond appropriately. He groaned and pressed his face further into her boobs. Give him a break it's the first time anyone has let him near such a vulnerable place. He'd give up all the gold under the earth just to lay there forever and just motorboat these fucking pillows of the gods.

Seeing as she would refuse to take coin and insisted his company is payment enough he comes by often. Mostly in the hopes of napping on her lap or tits. The boy is touch starved and MCs constant willingness to indulge his needs, mostly innocent, for free, he grows a serious attachment.

Sweets is the son of aphrodite. He's beautiful, not as beautiful as his mother of course, but he is indeed unnaturally gorgeous. So much so that he never finds himself without attention.

However this also means none of the attention is genuine. Just an effect of being a son of aphrodite. This also means people feel entitled to his love and he gets assaulted and raped on many occasions.

He tried to drown himself in MCs waters. She of course wouldn't allow it and instead offered him a listening ear completely unaffected by the gift of aphrodite.

"poor dear, your body sullied by unwanted love. Let me lend an ear for I am very lonely."

He told his story and then fell asleep on the rock that stays warm after the sun is gone. When he next wakes he feels well rested. But she's not there. He goes into town for food expecting to be swarmed as usual but instead he finds himself being glanced at but ultimately left alone.

She had removed his burdens and he is forever grateful. He comes by often to talk and keep her company as well as to keep his water angel safe.

Hotaru is the son of hermes. God of travelers and master of none. His whole life has been traveling. Searching. For what he doesn't know.

He's done it for years until his father finally points in one specific direction.

To her.

Mc who has to never walked farther than her river would allow. Who has met more people in her grand lifetime than he has in all his days of travel.

Offered him a home in her woods.

It's unheard of and at first he refuses but stays long enough to rest. After about a year he comes back because again his father pointed in that direction.

There she was sitting there on a rock. Waiting. Waiting for him. It doesn't even look like she's moved since he left. When she saw him she said "welcome home."

So foreign to him but it made his travel hardy legs weak just to hear. But again he refused her offer, staying a little longer this time.

It happens again and again. And he stays longer and longer. Each time all Mc says is "welcome home." Until he forgets his stubbornness for those kind sweet eyes and says. "It's good to be home."

Of course he still travels but now he shares a nearby cottage with sweets, quicksilver, erik, and eros.

Eros is the son of dionysus. The god of wine, parties, and insanity. This boy has a few screws loose. He frolics with his satyr friends and causes mortal to go out of their mind if he doesn't like them. As a man who parties constantly and chases nymphs it's not unheard of that he would crave something different.

On this note somehow he finds himself on the banks of MCs river. And he's heard the rumors so he approaches the water directly, weary of parties and booze, feeling as though his whole life has been nothing more than a crazy blip in the lines of time.

To see Mc rise out of the water like a literal goddess and smile at him in such an innocent humble way (something he's never truly seen on a nymph before) he had hope.

She beckons him over to her and cups his face. Her eyes look so sad as she gazes upon him.

"you seek a purpose. My dear I cannot give you purpose. But I can help you find it. If only you would smile."

Nonsense. MC can do anything. He's seen the results of her miracles. The stories. She's an absolute goddess. She just needs to see it. Then she can help him.

He refused to listen and instead became obsessed with trying to get her to see as he does. It became borderline occultic the way he was acting.

"Eros I can't see what you do for I have not your eyes. I can't give you a purpose. Please, stop hurting yourself!"

"don't hurt that poor sow! It has done naught to you! You don't even entend to eat it!"

"Eros this isn't healthy, you need to sleep. I shan't approve of you worshipping me. I'm no goddess."

Mc does her best but it seems he has a different idea of what a purpose is and goes mad with his obsession with her and trying to get her to see that she can do all the things he thinks she can.

At least he smiles when he goes about his self proclaimed mission. That's all she ever wanted. To see people smile.

The others sort of follow the same viewpoint as eros just not as coocoo. More like a small time cult family gently and lightly worshipping Mc and her genuinity.

They keep her company. They love her. They secretly pray to her or their parent for blessings. Eros on the other hand is very open and crazy with his worship. Just not dangerous to Mc. Which is why the others haven't done a thing about it.

#alphatale #bittytale #alpha #beta #firepapa #omega #undertale #alphamamalioness #a bitty bit of sin and a whole lot of loving #greek AU #nymph MC #demigods

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triangularjuice · 3 years

Text

Remember? -A Pokémon Story-

Chapter 21: Time to Save the World

You're frozen momentarily, unable to react due to the shock of being in the presence of a Legendary Pokémon. You stare up at this large beast in awe as it towers over your group with an intimidating glare. You can feel heat radiating off its body, warming your skin from the cold temperatures of Ultra Megalopolis.

"Solgaleo, can you help us?" Ash pleads as he steps toward the Legendary. Solgaleo doesn't move, it simply stares into your eyes, like it's reading you somehow. You shy away behind your dad, unsure of what Solgaleo is going to do. Then, the beast moves forward, slowly making its way over to you laying on the ground. Cato moves closer to you, warily watching the giant Pokémon get closer. You strain to see its face as it towers over you, its eyes staring deep into yours. Your heart races, but as you stare into its eyes, you can't see any hint of ill-intent.

"Solgaleo," your dad says from in front of you, his voice laced with desperation, "can you get the Ultra Beast DNA out of her?"

Without breaking eye contact, the Legendary Pokémon slowly nods its head. Your dad squeezes your hand, turning to you. You look up at him and give a slight nod. Sycamore gives you a small smile as he kisses the back of your hand, stepping away. You turn back to Solgaleo, ready for whatever needs to be done, and ready for all this to be over. The Pokémon closes its eyes as the starscape on its head lights up in a brilliant blue. You can feel a wave of heat hit you as Solgaleo's mane lights up. The world around you seems to melt away as all you can focus on is the prickling sensation crawling up your spine.

With no warning, the small prickling suddenly morphs into a violent pierce. You cry out as every muscle in your body contracts and every joint locks up. It feels like someone took a hammer to every bone in your body and is proceeding to pull every bone out of socket. Your skin crawls and goosebumps erupt all over your body as the pain spreads. Your blood feels hot, like it's boiling in your veins.

"Stop! Stop it! You're taking out the wrong one!" you hear your dad scream. A huge wave of relief washes over you as most of the pain stops, but the ghost of it still lingers, tingling at the top of your skin. Your dad kneels down to you, making sure you're still breathing. Solgaleo has a brief look of confusion on its face, but the puzzlement disappears when it turns to look at your dad. Following the Pokémon's movements, you stare up at your father.

"Dad? What did you mean by that?" you ask him. Sycamore runs a hand through his messy hair as he lets out a long sigh, looking away.

"Well... ma chèrie, you have more than just Ultra Beast DNA inside of you," he says quietly. You look at him with a confused expression, silently urging him to elaborate.

"When you were young, you suddenly fell very ill," he starts, "I took you to the best doctors in Kalos, but none of them could help you. They said it was a rare illness that causes the body to completely shut down. They all said there was nothing that could be done. They said I should enjoy what time we had left," he muttered grimly. "Well, I wasn't going to take that as an answer. I had already lost your mother, and I was not about to lose you too. So, I took you to where stories described the residence of the legendary Pokémon of Life, and somehow, I managed to find it. I plead with Xerneas to heal you, to give you another chance at life. Granting my prayer, Xerneas gave you a piece of itself that absorbed into you. It strengthened you, and has kept you alive."

Professor Kukui puts two and two together:

"So now that the Ultra Beast DNA mixed with Xerneas's DNA inside of her, the only way to get rid of the Ultra Beast DNA would be to-"

"-would be to remove the Xerneas essence as well," you say, cutting Professor Kukui off. Your dad looks down at you with so much sadness in his eyes.

"Without the power from Xerneas, your illness will quickly cause your body to shut down, and you'll..." Sycamore trails off, unable to finish his sentence, but everyone knows what he was implying. You look down to the ground, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You swallow thickly as tears start well up behind your eyes. You know what has to be done.

"Well, it looks like we have two options here," you say, turning back to your dad. Tears are already starting to spill out of his eyes.

"(Y/N)-" he starts, but you ignore him.

"One: We take it out. We stop all this destruction and suffering and I go down in history as a legend who sacrificed herself to save the world, even though I kinda broke it in the first place.. but we won't mention that part," you say lightheartedly, your voice cracking slightly at the end. Sycamore gives a small laugh as a few stray tears roll down his cheek.

"Or Two: I selfishly leave the DNA alone and I die a slow and painful death, ultimately destroying the universe in the process," you say quieter as tears starts to slip out of the corners of your eyes.

"We can figure something out," your dad whispers as he grabs your hand, "there has to be another way."

"Dad-" you start, but he's not listening.

"We could-we could find Xerneas and ask it to help."

"Dad we can't-"

"It might still be there, we could just go real quick and-"

"Dad!" you say loudly, snapping him out of his rambling. He looks into your eyes, and you give him a small smile as another tear rolls down his cheek. "I'm not making it out of this one, Dad," you whisper, your heart aching. He looks down at the ground, closing his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath. "I'd rather not drag everyone else down with me," you say quietly. Sycamore looks back up at you with glossy eyes.

"If we just had more time..." he whispers, and you wrap your arms around him, wincing at the ache in your muscles. He returns the hug, holding you tighter than ever before.

"(Y/N)?" you hear Ash say above you. Your dad pulls away and reluctantly gets up, allowing room for Ash to kneel down to you. He avoids your gaze, so you put your hand on his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. His arms wrap around you as he lets a few tears slip.

"I'm going to miss you, (Y/N)," Ash says quietly. You nod, unable to form words due to the lump in your throat. You can feel Pikachu hug your ankle and you give a breathy laugh out of your nose. Ash pulls away and you clear your throat.

"Thank you Ash, and Pikachu, you've done so much for me and I can't thank you enough," you say, smiling at them. They give you a sad smile in return and back away as Professor Kukui and Burnet step forward. You can see that they're trying to keep it together for Ash, but their façade is cracking.

"(Y/N), we just want you to know how proud we are of you, and how much we'll cherish the time we had together," Burnet says with a small smile.

"You may have been a bit reckless, but I wouldn't have changed a thing," Kukui says with a small chuckle. You laugh and smile at them both, wrapping your arms around Burnet before doing the same to Kukui.

"I know it was a weird few weeks for you guys, and I don't know how I could ever thank you for how much you've done for me," you say, a few stray tears rolling down your cheek.

"There's no need," Kukui says, a lump forming in his throat. You smile at them as they step back to Ash, letting Professor Sycamore and Cato back in.

"Hey bud," you whisper as Cato pushes his head into your chest. You run your hand through his mane as you let out a small hiccup. You bury your head into his fur and hug him tight, not wanting to let go. "You've always been there for me, Cato. Even when I did stupid things you always stuck with me. You're my best friend," you say through your tears. You can feel Cato pushing against you, trying to hug you for as long as he can. You don't want to let go, because when you do, you might not ever get to hug him again.

"I love you, Cato," you whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting the tears fall. Your Luxray makes a small noise in response, and you know what he's trying to say. When you finally force yourself to pull away, the ache in your heart hurt far worse than the pain from the Ultra Beast. You look Cato in the eyes and smile, planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose and petting his mane one last time.

When you turn to your dad, he quickly envelops you in a tight hug. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, just like you used to when you were little. His long arms wrap around your smaller frame, one hand resting on the back of your head. Tears run down his face as he holds you close for the last time.

"I just got you back," he whispers, broken. "I love you, ma chèrie."

You can hear so much sadness in his words.

"I love you too, Dad," you choke out, your eyes burning from the tears. You know you're running out of time, and you breathe shakily as your grip loosens. Reluctantly pulling away, Sycamore kisses your forehead, trying to stretch out these last fleeting seconds. You look up to Solgaleo, who has been respectfully waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. You give him a small nod indicating that you're ready. The Legendary Pokémon steps forward as your dad takes hold of your hand. You look up to him with a brave face.

"Time to save the world."

***

Chapter 22: The End

#pokemon #pokemon x reader #professor sycamore #professor kukui #professor burnet #ash ketchum #professor sycamore x daughter!reader #dad!sycamore

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ifyoulovemeletmebinge · 3 years

Text

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster

RATED M

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The next time they see each other is that night.

Dean spent the whole day avoiding the monster he welcomed into his house like a fucking pro, if he says so himself. He watched three different 80s action movies (because he needed some familiar blood and gore and explosion to distract from his own need to crush something), and he only left his room to play a few rounds of chess with Eileen while she took a break from research (he only won once after begging her to go easy on him), and now he is back in his room, after making one of the frozen pizzas he found in the fridge just for himself.

He stuffs another big bite of a 4-cheese slice as the credits roll on the movie he’d paused earlier and just came back to finish now. It was past 10:30 at night. He hears a knock on his door.

“‘Ome ‘n” he yells around a mouthful of cheese. He almost chokes on it when the door opens to reveal Castiel. He looks like a scared little child, but that’s not what made Dean choke. Castiel is wearing normal clothing.

Whoa.

That’s Dean’s flannel. His black, navy, and sky blue colored one that makes up the patterns on the cloth in a way that matches Castiel way better than it does Dean. He’s also wearing jeans, only socks on his feet.

Dean balks because there’s no way this guy is half-abomination. He’s too cozy.

“I apologize,” Castiel looks down, folds his hands together in front of him. “I didn’t think you were busy, I can--”

“No, no I’m not busy--”

“--come back tomorrow, I’m sorry--”

“Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Stay.”

Castiel blinks, shyly looks down and then nods. He closes the door behind him, and just stays there. Dean wipes his hands on a napkin and swings his legs off the bed.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to let you know Sam allowed me to borrow some clothes,” Castiel looks down at himself sheepishly, tugs at the bottom of the flannel he’s wearing. “I will return them after tomorrow.”

Dean’s nodding so fast his neck cracks a little. “Yeah. That’s—Cas, that’s fine. Wha-what’s tomorrow?”

At that, Castiel actually smiles. Dean’s never seen this before. Granted, he’s known the guy for less than a day, and has been actively avoiding him, but anyways. Castiel’s smile shows gums and square little teeth. Dean feels his entire chest glow looking at it.

“That’s the second piece of news I came to tell you. Sam and I have found something. He needs the day to acquire the correct ingredients for it, and we want to try it tomorrow. We think it will work.” It’s impossible, but it’s like his smile is growing even more with every word he says. Dean finds himself smiling too.

“Man,” Dean clasps his hands together; a quiet clap. “That’s… I mean. That’s something, Cas. You’re-you’ve-how long have you waited for this?”

Castiel’s smile falters, crooks and falls. He says quietly, “All my life.”

Then he’s walking forward and sitting at the edge of Dean’s bed. Dean’s hand on the mattress is the only thing that separates them.

“I need to tell you something else.”

“A third thing?”

“Yes,” Castiel looks down at his hand on the bed. He takes a moment while Dean holds his breath.

Castiel puts one of his hands on top of Dean’s, covering it. Dean glances down, and this close, he can clearly see the scar on the back of Castiel’s hand. All the breath in Dean’s lungs rushes out at once.

“Dean. After your father saved me, and I decided on what I was to do, I grew up with you. I followed you. I learned from you. I even saved you a few times. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he’d killed me too, or if he hadn’t killed my father at all, what would have become of me—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts hoarsely, spinning his hand around to grasp his fingers gently at Castiel’s wrist. “Whatever you think you know about my dad, it’s not true,” he shakes his head. “I’m absolutely sure the only good thing my dad ever did was accidentally let you live.”

Castiel averts his eyes, frowns. “On some days, I disagree.”

“Is today one of them?” Dean tilts his head to catch Castiel’s eyesight again. He shivers when blue meets green.

“No,” Castiel answers softly. “Not today.”

“Good. Because if there’s one thing you need to learn about being human is that you gotta learn to forgive yourself, man.”

Castiel’s smile looks sad. “After all these years, I am still learning from you, Dean Winchester.”

“What do you mean?”

Castiel hesitates. “With how savagely my father was raising me, to kill and feast on others, on innocents, I kept my humanity in check by watching you live Dean. You taught me to be human.”

Dean can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

As the seconds pass in silence, he can feel them inching closer, like tectonic plates moving after centuries. Their noses brush together and their lips are practically touching. Dean vision is reduced to alluring blue and widening pupils. He’s so afraid of what will happen if they collide.

Dean tilts his head down, leaning their foreheads together, avoiding the kiss.

“Cas.” His whisper is broken and defeated.

“I understand, Dean. If I had never told you, would you—”

Dean interrupts him, pulling his head away and covering it with his hands. “I can’t answer that. I-I don’t know. That was before I knew. Before I knew what you were and how that relates to me. Damn it, Cas. I’m going against everything I stand for, everything I am, for you. And there’s no guarantee.”

“How is that different than if I was a human you met at a bar?”

Dean swallows. “It just is,” he argues gruffly. “You’d just be a human. But you’re not, you’re someone who knows too much about me. I don’t know you at all, Cas. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if I should have killed you already or not.”

Dean sucks in a breath then, regretting the words immediately. His throat feels thick. When he tentatively looks at Castiel, he sees he is taken aback, mouth agape.

Castiel blinks. He stands up and makes his way to the door, his steps almost silent. Dean wants to reach out but his arms are frozen and still, and there’s something burning in his veins.

“I felt for you.” Castiel whispers, hand on the doorknob.

Dean looks up, meeting his eyes, feeling too much and not at all. He’s numb and exploding inside. He misses Castiel’s hand on top of his. He wants to feel his palm encase his hand again. Dean’s throat clogs up when he realizes, whoever he is, whatever he is, Dean wants Castiel.

Castiel is staring at him, jaw clenched, and posture too tight. “If I may… ask you for another favor?”

Dean can’t speak.

Nonetheless, Castiel continues. “If tomorrow doesn’t yield the best results, I’d like you to make sure I’m gone, Dean. For good.”

****

Sam is an organization freak. He has a whole corner of the basement scrubbed down and set up for the spell he’s going to try on Castiel. He has bowls (organized by size), and the vials of blood from the day before (organized by size). He also has extra needles (organized by size), some weed looking plants (organized by color), and other instruments for smashing and mixing (say it with me, organized by size). Dean stuff his hands in his jean pockets, fearing being yelled at because he might accidentally touch something he’s not supposed to.

Dean doesn’t know this stuff. All he knows are his gun, his machete, and his beloved rocket launcher. All he knows is the thrill of the final swing, the force of the punch, the blood on his knuckles, the cuts on his temple, and the last drop of the beer at the end of the night. He’s been a hunter all his life. John used to joke with him that he “fell out of the womb hunting.” Eventually, Dean taught himself to laugh at that. Meanwhile, Sam got to play around with his magic, or whatever.

Dean couldn’t complain, though. Because of Sam’s dedication and practice and knowledge they had saved many people over the years. People Dean wouldn’t think twice about shooting first and asking questions later. Sam had a talent for it, a knack. And Dean could see he thoroughly enjoyed it too, which was always a plus. You don’t want your younger sibling being unhappy because you dragged him back into something he tried to run away from. Ultimately, Sam was practically the only family Dean had left. He’d do anything to keep him content.

Thus why some of their hunting trips weren’t hunting trips at all. They were more like Dean-so-get-this-there’s-this-crystal-from-Colorado-that’s-supposed-to-heal-wounds-with-the-right-spell-could-we-go-find-it road trips. Dean grumbles for show, but he is always happy to be the Designated Driver.

Looking around the basement, Dean furrows his eyebrows as he spies two notebooks, sitting atop one another on the table. Eileen appears from behind him, and Dean nods at her.

She follows his eyesight, chuckles and then says, “He filled them with notes last night.”

Dean can’t hide his surprise. “He had a lot to say, then.”

Eileen shrugs. “He was trying to get all he learned from Cas somewhere concrete. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Dean turns to her, leaning down a bit.

Eileen sighs, seeming a bit hesitant. “Sam told me the spell is for erasing memories. But he’s going to try and incorporate some additional spells to sort of… erase his monster side?” she scrunches her nose. She ends up mouthing and signing her suggestion,You should ask him, because Sam is in the room with them, meticulously drawing something in his corner.

Dean frowns, but nods anyways. He doesn’t want to talk to Sam. Not right now, anyways, because Castiel is right there too, right next to him, sitting almost daintily in his dentist chair from the day before. His hands are wound together over his stomach (he’s still wearing Dean’s flannel), and his foot is tapping lightly on the air, like he’s impatient.

He’s definitely avoiding Dean’s eyes.

Dean does feel bad about how it went down with them last night. He doesn’t want to admit, not even to himself, really, that he wants to try something with Cas too. The history is too complicated, too filled with gaps, and secrets, and when he really looks at it objectively, it just doesn’t seem worth it.

But, god. The way Cas looks at him, and the way he feels when he’s around. That’s not something he’s felt for a while now. It goes deeper than the night they were at the bar. That was lust filled, and drink dazed. Now, Dean is aware that Castiel knows him, has been with him all along, since the very first night they met. Dean is aware he doesn’t know this half-man, half-monster who knows him, but he is aware he wants to know. How fucked up is that? He’s pushing it down, deeper into the crevices of his chest, but he wants to know Castiel. He knows he does.

He needs to make sure he can. Dean is still appalled at Castiel’s request. He is the best hunter in history, he knows his worth in the game, but he doesn’t think he can follow through with what Castiel wants. He just feels it in his bones. Dean can’t kill him.

When Sam starts the spell, it takes all of Dean’s muscles working to make him keep still; make him wait.

Sam has drawn a bunch of symbols on various pieces of paper. Perfect circles and diagonal lines and swirls and cross-looking things that come together in loopy images. He sets the pieces of paper down one by one on the table in a specific order to form a circle. Then he picks up the biggest bowl and puts it in the middle of the circle, within the paper circumference. He puts the rest of the smaller old wooden bowls around the bigger bowl, forming its own circle.

With careful, practiced hands, he picks up the colorful weeds, undoes the string that holds the thin branches of leaves together, and drops them in their rightful smaller bowls, spreading them out. He picks up a sleek wooden smasher and flattens each weed in its own bowl, one by one. Dean holds his breath as he watches Sam do the next step.

Sam picks up the smaller vials of blood, rips away the seal, and drizzles the contents over each small bowl, on top of the smushed weeds. Eileen probably senses Dean’s stress, because she hooks her hand under his forearm and holds him. He starts breathing again after the gesture. Sam finishes off with dumping the entire largest vial of blood into the main greater center bowl, covering ¼ of it.

Sam pushes the extra instruments to the side, giving him more room on the table, and then he takes a small match box out of his back pocket.

He turns to Castiel and looks him directly in the eyes. “It’s ready. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“More than anything,” Castiel assures him, jaw set, chest puffed out.

Sam sighs and nods. “Right. Okay. If this goes wrong, I suspect the worst that can happen is you losing your memory, which is what the notes we took yesterday are for. Unfortunately, that’ll be irreversible, but you’ll still be… you.”

Castiel’s eyes flash to Dean’s for a second. “It’s worth a try. I have contingency plans, Sam. Do it, please.”

Sam’s lips turn downwards in a frown, but he still nods. He wraps Castiel’s wrist with leather, tying him to the chair. Dean can see the stark contrast between the almost white scar on the back of his hand, and the dark brown leather.

Sam steps away and fishes out a single match. He’s poised over the table where the spell is set up. He rolls his shoulders back, stands up straighter, closes his eyes and tilts his head up, mentally preparing himself.

Dean admires how he’s in his element, and then Castiel speaks: “At any rate, I wanted to apologize for my inappropriate behavior during your lives, and to say that I am glad I met you all. Thank you for helping me, truly.” He’s looking at Dean as he finishes, and all Dean can do is swallow his feelings down. He’s fearing for Cas. For himself, too.

“We’ll see you on the other side, Cas,” Sam grins, then strikes the match. Dean’s worldview is reduced to that flame.

Sam starts quietly chanting, “Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

The papers start glowing immediately. As in, the drawings themselves start to shine a muted orange color, growing in reach upwards as Sam continues chanting, “Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

When the light is shining about at Sam’s chest, he drops the lit match in the center bowl.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

Castiel’s blood ignites in the bowl, red-orange. The temperature in the basement escalates.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

The center bowl is aflame. It catches onto the smaller bowls that surround it.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

Each small bowl lights up with the color of the weeds Sam smushed earlier. There’s a red, a green, a yellow, a blue, a purple, a white, and a black fire surrounding the main orange flame.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

The lights of the illuminated drawings start to move, curve to the center, closer to the main bowl.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

They connect to the orange fire in the middle, making a sort of cone shape; pointy end at the top.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

The colors start to darken, looking more pronounced. They are trapped inside the confines of the orange cone. Dean takes Eileen’s hand in his.

“Dedisco. Dono. Dissulto.”

It’s then that Castiel sucks in a gasping wheezing breath. His veins, visible on his head and neck and hands light up in orange hues from under his skin. He pinches his eyes shut and throws his head back, groaning. Dean wants to run to him, but Eileen keeps him grounded by squeezing his hand.

“Dedisco! Dono! Dissulto!” Sam yells, then drives his palm straight down into the pointy end of the cone, like he’s stabbing his hand with it. It shatters the structure completely.

Castiel gives out a last cry, his skin glows brighter than ever, and then he’s falling limp in the chair. The flames are doused out at the table, like Sam threw water at them.

The room is cold again, and when Dean finally takes his eyes off Castiel, he sees Sam is smiling like he just heard the ice cream truck pass by.

****

Castiel wakes up almost a week later. Of course, it’s exactly within the hour that Dean leaves his bedside to go make some mid-afternoon pancakes for himself.

He’s in the kitchen, dripping a shit-ton of syrup on top of the large thick stack (he likes them fluffy) when he sees Eileen run in from the hallway.

She signs, He’s awake.

Dean is too tired to understand for a few seconds, and then she signs it again and points behind her, smiling. The lightbulb goes off in Dean’s head and then he’s running with the plate of pancakes and the syrup bottle still in his hands, giving Eileen a kiss on the cheek as he passes her. He hears her giggle.

When Dean bursts into his room (he insisted they put Castiel in his room), he sees Sam standing next to the bed, hands on his hips, frowning down at Castiel who is sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed, head hung low and tucked in his chest.

Dean doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, but he knows it shouldn’t be. He goes into Mom Mode.

“Cas! Welcome back to the world of the living!” He sets the plate of pancakes and the syrup bottle on his desk, and then walks over to crouch in front of Castiel’s legs. Dean tries to catch his eyes, “Hey, man. What are you doing sitting up? Sam told me this spell should have killed you, take a breather, rest for a bit more. You deserve it, dude.”

Sam shuffles next to him, silent, but Dean is not paying attention to him. When Castiel finally looks up, he squints and tilts his head at Dean. Dean beams. It’s so familiar, and he didn’t know he missed it so much. He’s smiling so hard it hurts.

Then Castiel says, “Who are you?”

Dean’s stomach drops like an anvil. His head floats for a second, and when it attaches back, all he can think of is how he’s lost Castiel. Fuck, he’s lost him. Forever.

Dean is feeling the burn in the back of his eyes, and he thinks he’s going to cry, but then he hears Sam from above him. Dean stands up and turns to his brother, who has one hand covering his mouth, and he’s… snickering. He is. Sam is laughing!

Dean whips his head to Castiel, who’s switched his confused squint to a warm gummy smile. He’s chuckling. His eyes are bright and blue and shining. They recognize him. Dean breathes again.

“Fuckin’ assholes!” Dean turns to punch Sam in the arm lightly, crossing his own with an angry huff. “I can’t believe you pulled that with me!”

Sam is still chuckling, dimples showing. “I’m sorry, dude! It was too good not to.”

“It was purely Sam’s idea,” Castiel defends himself.

Dean puts his whole body behind his eye roll. “Don’t go having anymore of those, Samuel. They suck.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, and Dean irritably shrugs him off, making his brother smile even wider. “It’s Sam, and you love me anyways.” He turns to look down at Castiel. “Well, Cas--can I call you Cas?”

Castiel nods, grinning. “Of course, Sam.”

Sam is an excited puppy. “Welcome to humanity, Cas! We’re lucky to have you.” He saunters out of the room, still smirking to himself, leaving Dean with a wink.

After Sam closes the door behind him, Dean sits down in the chair right next to his bed, the one he’d been occupying for the last week, watching Cas sleep, like he was perching over his shoulder. He’s right in front of Castiel, still sitting on his bed, hands clasped around his kneecaps.

“So, it really worked? Sam cleared you? You-you’re…” Dean can’t finish the thought. His brain is racing.

Castiel looks proud, maybe a little emotional. “I am. I am human now.”

They meet eyes, and the world is suspended again. Castiel looks soft, and a little tired, but strangely, he looks the same. Dean knows he won’t be able to lift heavy things, knows he won’t crave humans anymore, but he also knows Castiel is still going to make tea and gently hand him the warm mug. He knows Castiel will still tug on the hem of his clothes, and he’s probably still going to wear that trenchcoat. Something in Dean’s heart breaks as he realizes Castiel is the same, apart from the blood running in his veins. Dean feels a little ashamed.

Castiel breaks the stare, and clears his throat. “Thank you for helping me, Dean. You’ve saved my life, but I won’t say I am forever in your debt, because I now realize that it’s the same toxic sentiment that has dictated my life for the last 15 years. I won’t bother you anymore, but I offer my services, if you ever come to need them.”

“Cas--”

Castiel holds him in a serious stare. “I’ll go, Dean. As promised.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand, the one with the scar, when Castiel stands up to leave. He forces himself to say, “I don’t want you to.”

Castiel furrows his eyebrows, and after a moment, he sits down on the bed again. He lets Dean hold his hand.

“I was wrong. Cas, I was so wrong.”

“In what way?”

Dean swallows. “We’re all monsters.”

Castiel huffs. “Dean--”

“We are,” Dean doesn’t let him speak, he needs to get it out before he gets too scared. “You may have literally been one your whole life, but you fought against it. You forced yourself to be better, and you were of service to people. You fuckin’... gave up your life to watch me! To protect me, and Sam! But you don’t actually know us. Especially me. I’m not who you’ve been seeing from a distance. I’m not who my father made you think I am.”

Castiel nods, pursing his lips, eyes turning down at the corners. “Of course not, Dean.”

Dean takes a shuddering breath. “I’ve done things in the past because I wanted to be violent. That’s all. They might have been monsters but I just wanted to be violent, and I shouldn’t be thought of as a hero because of that. In my own way, I’m just as much of a monster as you. Maybe I’m worse. I gave into it,” he mumbles.

Castiel squeezes his hand. “You were never a monster to me. And you were never a perfect hero. And you were never what your father made you seem. You are just a man, Dean. Just a human. That’s what I admired about you. That’s what I wanted to be. Imperfect, but pure of heart. And now, thanks to you, I am,” he smiles.

“Cas, I’m sorry. I really am.” Dean doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but he thinks Cas understands. He always seems to.

“I know, Dean. I am sorry as well. I should have contacted you sooner. I’ve lived in the shadows for too long. I almost forgot my human side.”

Dean grins. “Now you don’t even have a human side. You’re all human.”

“I am.”

“Maybe you always were, Cas. Thanks for not killing me 15 years ago.”

Castiel chuckles. “Anytime.”

“So, what now?”

“Now… I guess I make something of myself,” Castiel sighs.

Dean smiles, feeling once again like he’s on leveled ground with Castiel. Feeling like they’re leaning against a wall at the bar again. Feeling like the moment Castiel hesitated to kill him. Feeling hopeful.

“Well, you can’t do that on an empty stomach.” Dean lets go of Castiel’s hand, stands up and goes over to the plate of pancakes and syrup. He brings it back and puts the plate on Castiel’s lap. “You must be starving. Here, I made pancakes, I hope you like syrup,” he says sheepishly.

“I don’t know if I do,” Castiel says slowly, shyly. Dean realizes what he said and almost facepalms, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment.

“Right. Right. Sorry, yeah, duh—um. Why don’t you-uh. Just try it.”

Castiel cuts a small piece, soaked in syrup, and pops it in his mouth. Dean bites his lower lip, watching as he chews, and he’s wondering if he put too much butter or flour and that’s why Cas doesn’t like it, but then Castiel’s face lights up. He blinks at Dean, reaches over and takes the syrup from his hand, and dumps more on top of the pancakes.

Castiel looks into Dean’s soul when he says, “I love it.”

#BELOVED HANNAH <3333333333333333333 #A HAPPY ENDING FOR YOU BC YOUR METAS ARE SO DEPRESSING AND SO IS THIS SHOW #I HOPE THIS WAS THE MONSTER!CAS FIC OF YOUR DREAMS <33333 #THE MOTHERFRICKING END MY FRIENDS 11K WORDS AND 4 DAYS LATER #ok. now i gotta go do homework :((((#my destiel fanfic #destiel fanfic

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chaosmallet · 4 years

Text

Rescue

AO3 Link ♡

Sweat dripped down Amy’s brow as she took in weak, labored breaths, admiring the wreckage of Eggman’s latest line of badniks. This battle had caught the team by surprise and had been especially rough on them. Since the doctor disappeared again, everyone had taken a much needed break, and Robotnik had struck right when everyone’s guard was lowered. Although he was defeated again, no one was going to leave the battle unscathed. Amy thought that she had been especially lucky, maintaining only a few ugly bruises and a few minor cuts.

Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles had been out investigating reports of badnik sightings near Spiral Hill Village when they were quickly overwhelmed by a swarm of menacing robots. When Amy received a transmission from Tails asking for assistance, Shadow had been with her and insisted on coming with her to help.

From a few yards away, Shadow was now briskly walking towards her with his posture rigid and his fists clenched by his sides. He held Amy captive in his intense gaze, keeping her rooted in place as she pondered what the issue could be. Out of breath, the rest of the group watched as Shadow made his way up to her, too tired to ask him what was wrong. She didn’t have any time to react before his hand gripped her upper arm and they suddenly appeared in the middle of her living room.

Shadow immediately let go of Amy and turned away from her, walking away as his fists shook from both adrenaline and anger. The pink hedgehog was confused about his reaction to their victory and why he would Chaos Control them away so quickly rather than check up on Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles. Seeking answers, Amy followed him as he silently walked into the kitchen. He stopped right in the middle of the room, but didn’t turn around to face her.

“Shadow?” Amy called as she timidly reached out for him. He sharply turned around with such an intense glare on his face that Amy had to withdraw her hand and take a step back. After a few moments of silence, Shadow finally turned around to face her fully, arms crossed.

“...Why would you do that?” he questioned in a controlled tone. Amy could tell that he was holding back frustration, but over what, she didn’t know. At her lack of a response, Shadow quickly sucked in a breath and released a slow sigh, getting more frustrated over the lack of an explanation on Amy’s part. His fists clenched and unclenched again.

“Why were you being so reckless?” he asked, the venom in his voice now apparent. His unrelenting gaze dug right through her as if he was searching her for an answer.

After racking her brain for a few moments, Amy realized what he must have been talking about. During the battle, several super badniks that were at least three times his size had locked onto Shadow and were closing in on him from all directions. He had decided to break off from the group to lead the robots elsewhere and to keep everyone else out of harm’s way. As soon as she saw what he was doing, Amy knew that she couldn’t let him try to deal with all of those enemies alone.

As she ran after Shadow, she could see that he was already a bit worse for wear and was bleeding a considerable amount. Amy knew he could heal fast, but the sight was still something that made her stomach twist. Amy began to run even harder, pulling out her hammer and jumping over the closest robot with a shout of pure adrenaline. She managed to connect her hammer to the head of the robot she launched herself over, severely denting it and taking it out immediately. Fatigued, Amy took a second to pull her hammer out of the robot’s remains, stumbling backwards from the effort when her hammer finally popped free. Upon looking back at the rest of the fleet, she realized that the robots that were once focused on Shadow were now closing in on her. There was no way that she could move out of the way of their oncoming attack.

Suddenly, she was swept off her feet and was travelling at a dizzyingly impossible speed. Regaining her composure, she realized that Shadow was holding her while propelling them away from the horde of super badniks. She could hear the robot’s massive legs pound against the earth as they gave chase, but they were no match for Shadow’s speed. The black hedgehog’s expression was hard and focused on his surroundings, and Amy couldn’t help but admire his features while he was distracted on the task ahead.

In only a handful of seconds, they neared Sonic and the rest of the group who were almost finished with Eggman’s fleet of lower-level badniks. Catching sight of Shadow, Amy, and the machines chasing them, the team prepared themselves for one last push against Eggman’s horde of bots. Shadow raced past the rest of the group, nearing the edge of the battlefield. Once he was satisfied with his distance from the fight, Shadow came to a clean stop with assistance from his air shoes and set Amy down gently before racing back into the fray. Battered but determined, the hedgehog heroine gripped her hammer tightly and ran after him, determined to help finish the fight.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she realized that Shadow was still waiting on an answer to his question. Taking a few seconds to relax under his intense glare, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“...I think it’s worth it,” Amy hesitantly started. “I think being reckless is worth it if I can protect the people that I care about.” Shadow squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose at her response.

“I am the Ultimate Lifeform, it’s my job to protect others, not yours,” Shadow responded, clearly not satisfied with the answer she gave him.

Amy’s brow furrowed, confused as to what his problem was. “How can you say that? You can still get hurt!”

“My skin deflects bullets Amy. I’m basically indestructible.”

“But you can still feel pain!”

“That is irrelevant. No one can heal as quickly as I can.”

“But I hate seeing you hurt Shadow!”

“I am the most durable member of the team. It’s best if I face the bigger challenges alone.”

“But you don’t have to fight alone! Who’s looking out for you then? I wanted to help you!”

“I don’t want any help from you if you’re going to jump in front of harm’s way so easily!”

“Why won’t you just drop this, Shadow?!”

“Because I can’t lose you! I won’t allow it!” Shadow shouted, a pained expression revealing itself on his face.

Amy gasped at the intensity of his words as tears gathered in her eyes, now understanding what Shadow must have been feeling. He had lost everyone he’d ever loved, and it would only take one mistake for him to lose her too. She gave Shadow a sad but understanding look before walking over and wrapping her arms around him. Although he remained motionless, Amy wanted him to know that she would never try to purposefully cause him distress. The full horror of the situation suddenly hit her as she cried out into his chest, sobs wracking her small frame. Shadow finally hugged her to him as if she could disappear at any moment; as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so sorry Shadow,” Amy whispered into his chest, trying to hide her tear-streaked face from him. Shadow began to lightly rub her back in comfort.

“Please… be more careful.” Shadow murmured, his voice cracking from stress as he held her closer, tucking her head underneath his chin. He had never felt like this about anyone before, alive or otherwise, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose her now. Amy turned her head sideways on his chest so that she could hear his heartbeat, internally psyching herself up to tell Shadow what she was feeling.

“There’s no way I could leave you to fight alone,” Amy began. “Why don’t we just… always stick together. I’m still going to fight alongside you Shadow, but… I’ll be more careful. For you.”

Shadow only gave a soft grunt in reply. He knew how strong Amy was, and didn’t want to discredit her strength. It wasn’t her ability to fight that worried him, it was the unpredictability that all battles against Eggman usually had, and Shadow didn’t like the odds of Amy getting hurt. However, he knew that victory often came easier when fighting alongside others, especially those that cared deeply for each other. He felt that he could be victorious against any enemy as long as he had Amy by his side. He held her closer, relieved that she was here in his arms.

#shadamy #fanfic #my post #amy rose #shadow

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darawonplease · 4 years

Text

✵ ch.3 – blackout.

「 ☽ Ian's POV」

「 Ian, you’ve hid in your apartment for a week now, are you alright?」

「 Dude, we need you at the studio」

「 I’ll get your lazy ass myself, I fucking swear」

I scrolled through the DPR group chat out of pure boredom, nothing more.

“450 missed messages, huh?”.

Quite a rare scenario, I was the person who usually spammed nonstop in our group chat, bothering the others.

I threw the phone over the coffee table in front of the leather couch where my body was laying, restless, completely drained. Like a stalled car I was stuck there, my limbs dangling down, almost touching the ground.

The sun splashing into a bundle of warm colors was a view I enjoyed quite a lot from my living room’s large windows. I almost refused to acknowledge how stunning that was just to keep lurking in the darkness, tucked away from any worry.

Defeat left such a bitter taste in my mouth. Our label was going through some rough times and I had abandoned the ship and retired in the comfort of my home for the time being.

I had felt strange ever since Chaerin left for LA. An eerie feeling stalked me each and every step I took, not allowing me any peace.

I looked over my shoulder, my home was completely trashed. Plastic bottles and takeaway boxes were scattered on the floor, my bed undone, all of the surfaces covered in dirty clothes, used glasses. A crack house would’ve been 10 times more hospitable than my apartment.

Maybe it was Chae’s sudden departure or maybe I was just exhausted by the useless amount of editing I did for some - now cancelled - DPR projects. A lethal mix of both certainly put me at my knees when it came to my psychological and physical health.

Overworking was my way to keep my mind busy and forcefully kick out any thought regarding her absence. It worked for a while until that day. The blackout.

I could sense a growing tension that took over me the moment I got into a fight with Dabin.

I couldn’t believe I had let myself get into those conditions. I was forced to contain my rage and melancholy inside the walls of my house; it was the only way to protect the people around me from my mood swings and irritability and, ultimately rest for a bit. I felt like shit.

With the last ounce of strength in me, I dragged my body over to the bathroom.

The mirror’s image told me that wasn’t me. That wasn’t Ian. Ian wouldn’t go into hiding in times of need. Ian wouldn’t get into violent fights. He wouldn’t disrespect his friends. That was the worst version of Ian. The scruffy looking hair, the unshaven face, the deep dark under eyes sitting under those dim eyes, the healing bruises on the cheek. I despised what I saw.

weak.

A deep voice started echoing in my head suddenly.

you’re pathetic.

fucking look at yourself.

you look like shit.

I firmly held my head between my hands, my brain felt like imploding in that instant. My hands started trembling out of control. I watched them twitch like crazy, completely powerless over them.

The more I tried to make up the details of my face in the reflection, the blurrier the vision in front of me became.

“Fuck… not again”.

✵

I woke up, strangled by the warmth of my dirty sheets. The stank of cigarettes and whisky choke me, almost making me gag.

“I need to change these”. I immediately thought to myself as I shoved them away from my body.

That persistent headache finally ceased to bother me; its intensity was nothing compared to the one I had the night before.

I slowly turned my head to the right, the blinds cut through the sunlight, just letting a couple of rays penetrate in the dark room as the day was breaking in.

I followed one of the gleams until it hit on tan bare skin. Someone was lying on the other side of my bed.

“Wh-“.

A woman with platinum hair cascading on her pale face was still fast asleep beside me.

I flinched at the sight of her unfamiliar features and covered my mouth to prevent myself from waking her up.

“Who is this person?” - I thought to myself, as I panicked to get out of bed. I needed to wrap my head around what was happening.

I desperately tried to cling onto the blurry, fleeting memories that vanished in the distance the more I tried to recall them. That now familiar feeling of loss slowly ate away every bit of my sanity.

how did this person end up in my house?

and in my bedroom?

did we…?

I wasn’t one who would hook up with random people. I just wasn’t that type of person.

I was definitely too old for that stuff and yet- a naked woman I didn’t recognize was in my bed.

I just couldn’t resolve the mystery as to where I had possibly met her, I could swear I didn’t step out of my house all week for the fear of hurting someone else. No matter how hard I tried to put together the clues around me, the puzzle was missing too many pieces.

maybe she just walked to my place.

what if I downloaded a dating app?

I frantically looked for my phone under the pillows, the bedsheets, in the drawers of the nightstand. With my face squished against the cold floor I scanned under the bed only to find a pile of random clothes that I then started to go through.

bingo.

There it was, buried under the mountain of dirty garments. I immediately searched for any dating app or messages on my phone to confirm my theory and prove myself I wasn’t actually crazy but to no avail. Of that sort of thing, not a trace.

“Good morning”.

The woman wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear with her raspy morning voice.

I froze in place, my mind going completely blank. Having that huge blackout of events didn’t give me any peace but It wasn’t the time to play detective. I had a complete stranger in my bedroom.

“G-good morning”. I forced myself to greet her with a confused smile.

She kneeled to get her stuff from the pile of clothes that stood up at my feet and started dressing up. I immediately turned around in shame at the sight of her naked body, my ears were burning red.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden, oppa?”.

✵

“Come on, don’t be shy oppa!”.

Chae gently pushed a bowl of rice towards the other side of the table, where I was sitting.

“Just eat to your heart’s content”. She flashed her usual bright smile.

“If I'll find myself at the hospital for food intoxication, I will make your name Chae”.

I pointed at the chef with the spoon in my hand and chuckled, I just loved teasing her.

“Don’t be ungrateful and just eat, will ya?”. She pretended to be offended, crossing her arms and such. It was so obvious that she was anxiously waiting for my critique.

Without further ado I picked a spoonful of fried rice and started munching with no particular expectations. Not because I expected her to be a bad cook, I just didn’t want to put my expectations too high only to be left disappointed.

An explosion of flavors mixed and popped in my mouth. The aroma brought me back to when I was a child and my mom used to cook me a simple fried rice dish before leaving to work. Chae’s cooking felt like home.

I slowly nodded my head in satisfaction and licked my lips.

“It’s… meh-…alright”. I teased her again.

“Alright?! Spit what you ate, this instant!”. Chae threatened me with the wooden spoon she just picked up from the table to hit me on the arm.

“CHAE, OUCH, IT HURTS” - I hurriedly took another spoonful and immediately stood up from my seat, fleeing toward the hallway of her apartment.

“COME BACK YOU IDIOT!”. She chuckled.

✵

The annoyingly loud sound of the intercom made me snap back to reality.

“Hello? You okay? Someone is outside the door”.

The platinum-haired girl waved her hand in front of me to make sure I was listening to her, which I wasn’t until that moment.

I shook my head and sprinted towards the door.

“Come on man, don’t make me buzz for other 5 minutes”. I heard Scott’s stern, yet familiar voice.

I opened the door to find him and Cream on my doorstep, a dead-serious expression plastered on both of their faces. They made their way into my apartment before I could say anything.

“Wait guys I-“.

“Dude, you look like shit”, Cream exhorted, putting his hands at his sides.

Scott looked around my living room, his expression was distorted by a mix of disgust and disappointment as if he walked into a true crime scene.

“What’s up with this Ian? When did you start to smoke legit cigarettes?”.

“Me? You know I don’t smo-“.

He picked an ashtray stacked with cigarette butts from the coffee table and looked back at me with frustration.

“Where does that come from…?”, I muttered under my breath, surprised by the presence of that object in my home.

Cream carefully walked towards the kitchen, almost stumbling in some empty beer cans, “This is so depressing man”, He inspected the empty bottle of what looked like Jack Daniel’s on the messy kitchen counter.

“When did I drink that? Wait guys- “.

“Whoa Ian, are you not going to introduce us to your girl?”.

I widened my eyes at the sight of her; I had forgotten about the stranger in my bedroom for a hot minute.

“She’s…”.

A drip of cold sweat dribbled down my forehead as I panicked to recall that person’s name; my mind could only crash into a blank wall.

I paused for an awful lot of time until she interrupted me.

“The nerve! How come you can’t even remember my name? After last night…You know what Mito? You’re a jerk”.

“W-what?...”.

An explosion of pain spread in my left cheek as she slapped me. She then marched directly out of the door, showing me her middle finger as I held my face in agony.

“Man…”, Scott sighed, “I see you’ve been keeping yourself busy lately…”. He pushed aside the stuff occupying the seating surface of the couch and made space for himself.

“Did she just call you? Mito? Ian? Are you into role-playing?”, Cream asked letting out a small laugh.

“Into what?...”.

“Nevermind”. He heaved a deep sigh and slowly walked towards me, avoiding the trash on the floor like an obstacle course.

I just kept silent. I couldn’t throw a fit again just because I was so burned that I had a complete blackout. I just couldn’t.

“We left you alone for just a week and you managed to turn your pretty apartment into a dumpster”.

“y-yeah…”.

“And the girl? You never told me about that pretty blonde girl, did you? Ian you rascal”. Cream grinned, with a proud smile.

“I- I met her recently I guess…”. I lied, not knowing how to justify myself.

Pushing onto his thighs for support, Scott stood up from his seat, “Ian… I know It’s not the best of times for us right now… but hang in there, okay? We’ll get on our feet soon, we do need you though”, He shook my shoulders to make sure I listened to him.

“Yeah sure…”. I just kept nodding.

“You still haven’t talked with Dabin, did you?”.

“I haven’t”. I looked down at the mess in the living room, attempting to avoid his inquisitorial gaze.

A raw and unfamiliar beat started playing out of the blue, interrupting Scott’s soon to be scolding.

“Look Scott, Ian actually worked on something”. He redirected his attention towards me with a satisfied smile on his lips.

Scott raised his eyebrow and looked over the laptop, “Have you?”, his eyes went back to me.

“This? No-”

The strained vocals on the track suddenly became an unsettling background to the messed-up scenario.

again?

Scott’s scrutinizing gaze felt like a heavy blanket over my body. I could sense the abrupt change of atmosphere, the growing distance between the two of us, the distrust.

“Well, that’s your voice Ian. If not you, who did?”, he smacked his lips.

Cream kept looking around my laptop, “This demo is very aggressive, it’s quite unlike you”, he exhorted.

“I-”.

“I like it, It has character, It’s something different from what you usually write”.

I dashed towards the computer to verify myself.

「 maybeittookover.m4a」

“It happened again huh…”. I murmured under my breath. That was the second time an unknown track appeared on my desktop out of the blue.

“Ian? Are you ok? You’re spacing out- like a lot”, Cream tilted his head at me, “Wait, are you high?”.

“N-no, I’m just really really really tired, that’s all…”.

Scott took a short trip to the bathroom only to throw a towel on my head.

“Wash up, we’re taking you to get a breath of fresh air”.

previous chapter. ✵ next chapter. ✵ masterlist

#clian #chaerian #dprian #cl

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hgb94 · 4 years

Text

I’ve got a lot of emotions about Zolf, clearly. This got...a little long. So, here are all the things I love about Zolf, and all the things about him that break my heart. Really, all the things I love about him end up breaking my heart. I’m definitely not projecting at all in here. This is 100% well thought out.

Zolf is The Protector. It’s one of the first and most obvious of his characteristics that I noticed. He constantly tries to protect the lives of people around him, even if he barely knows them, even if he doesn’t particularly like them. It was heartwarming to see how deeply he cared for people he’d known such a short time. He knew Sasha for about 10 seconds before stepping in between her and Barret’s men. “Didn’t seem very fair odds.” He’d known Hamid for two or three days before offering to wear Barret’s ring for him. “Mr Barret, as their employer, you are dealing with me.” He didn’t even like Wilde, but he categorically refused to hand him over to Gourmand’s men in exchange for his own (and the group’s) safety. He grew to despise Bertie, but still did his best to keep him safe. And when he finally becomes enraged by Bertie and is ready to kill him, his central reason is: “I have had it with his constant endangering of the people that I like and love!” The only thing that gets him to stand down is Sasha reminding him that Bertie’s death would upset Hamid. He’s generally the one advocating for the more sensible course of action. He gets angry with Hamid for engaging in reckless heroics and yells at him for a solid 5 minutes before admitting that he feels responsible for him and he doesn’t want him to die. Sasha wants to ride the gyrocopters, and he’s citing a newspaper article about recent crashes. It was endearing and heartwarming, but by the time he left in Prague, it was heartbreaking, for three reasons.

He blames himself when the people he cares for get hurt, and when he can’t protect them, he feels useless. After the catacombs and Mr. Ceiling, he can’t walk, he can’t fight, and he doesn’t even have a weapon. Everything he did to protect them during that arc, at significant risk to himself, wasn’t enough. “I’ve been so useless.” Sasha died. Hamid got hurt. He had to sit at the top of the stairs, unable to do anything, listening to Hamid scream as he was burned by the fire elemental. One of the only things he really has left to protect them after the catacombs is his ability to heal, which is probably why it hurts so much when Hamid refuses his healing, choosing to use a potion instead. (To my knowledge, Hamid has never willingly accepted healing from Zolf since learning that Zolf’s healing powers were connected to the whole Poseidon drowning sacrifice thing.) There in the Arc, without his legs, without a weapon or armor, healing is the only thing he feels like he can offer. And Hamid won’t let him. The world collapsed and not only can he not fix it, he blames himself for it. “I don’t think I’m powerful, I think I’m powerless! I can’t do anything about this, I can’t fix the mistakes that I’ve made. I can’t walk, I can’t get out and heal people because I need help to get down the stairs.”

He’ll do anything to protect others, but he hates asking for help himself. Honestly, although I didn’t realize it until later, this starts becoming evident at Dover. The only thing Zolf can do during his imprisonment and court-martial is provide Hamid with information to formulate a defense. He has to sit and wait and rely on his new friends to get him out of it. He was powerless. And afterward, Hamid had to push him to accept a temporary loan of 500 gold to pay off his debt to the navy. Later, when Mme. Rose asks them about their most embarrassing memory, Zolf’s is being court-martialed. When he’s lectured at the Temple of Poseidon and sent to cross the channel on a tiny boat in a terrible storm, he doesn’t ask anyone to come with him. He makes it perfectly clear how dangerous this will be, assures them that he’s the only one who needs to do this and won’t blame anyone for taking the train instead, and then waits for them to choose. In the catacombs, with his ruined leg, he focuses on Hamid. He buries the fact that he’s now effectively legless. Box that up and deal with it later, because Hamid and Sasha need him to stay calm. And on the way out of the Arc, it doesn’t matter how much he’s done for the group, he feels the need to apologize to Sasha for her having to carry him around when he’s legless. “You investigate, I’ll watch up here. Don’t want to be a burden.” When she stretches out her back at the hotel after putting him down, he apologizes again, like it’s his fault.

The only life Zolf willingly risks is his own. When Sasha goes overboard crossing the channel, he only pauses long enough to try and make sure Hamid is safe before throwing himself after her, while offering Poseidon his life for hers. As Mr. Ceiling forms a massive robot to attack the group, he’s in a wheelchair, legless, without armor or weapons, and he hides the three of them from its sight and puts himself between it and them. When Earhart puts a gun to Sasha’s head, he shakes off his airsickness and draws her attention. “If you expect me to fear death, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” I don’t think that was false bravado. It’s true. He doesn’t fear his death. He’s never been afraid for himself. He fears the deaths of people he loves. I would argue that is his greatest fear.

I also love Zolf’s passion for romance novels. It’s freaking adorable at first. He’s locked in a jail cell and falls in love with a series of romance novels. “Jennifer, no!” “Richard is not the right one for you!” From the description, they’re simple, melodramatic, and predictable, and I’ve definitely read a few books of that exact genre. He loves them and they’re a wonderful escape for him. When he reacts so violently to Bertie endangering the author, Harrison Campbell, it seems a little excessive at first. And ultimately perhaps that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, the last in a long string of incidents that caused him to snap. But I get it. I have that thing. The thing that you go to on the bad days. When your mind won’t stop spinning out of control with worst-case scenarios.When you have to get out of your own head for a few hours. When you’re numb and struggling to feel anything at all. It becomes a lifeline that you hold onto when you’re drowning, and to have someone tell you that it’s trash, to mock it, to try and destroy your connection to it…I’d have tried to toss Bertie overboard too. Okay, so maybe I am projecting a little. Zolf’s self-confidence and faith. At the start, Zolf projects a lot of confidence. He’s the leader, he guides the group, makes decisions, and he seems to know who he is, Zolf Smith, Cleric of Poseidon. He believes that he knows what his god wants, and he’s devoted to those beliefs. His confidence balances his caution and allows him to lead the group through dangerous situations while keeping a clear head. After visiting the Temple of Poseidon, he does his best to alter course to his new perception of Poseidon’s desires, but there’s a little crack, a hairline fracture in his understanding of his god and himself. And then Mr Ceiling takes a chisel and hammer to the cracks and shatters Zolf’s faith. “I saw a robot casually decide, ‘maybe I should be a god’, and do you know what, I think it could have done it, because, our gods, right, they’re like us. They’re as stupid and as fallible as us, and they screw up. If something can casually decide, ‘maybe I’ll be a god’, and I have no way of saying that it couldn’t become a god, what’s Poseidon?” He’s faced with the fallout of their choices in Paris, and he doesn’t know if they did the right thing. The economy of Paris has collapsed, chaos, riots, violence, how many people have died? Is this really better? “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, I can’t see into the future, but usually my decisions don’t affect millions of people!” And after his dreams from Poseidon, Zolf is filled with more questions than answers. “I don’t know why he’s…stupid dreams and symbolism and rubbish like that and not anything...just…I just want to have a conversation.” Poseidon gives him new legs, but legs aren’t answers. “I just don’t feel like I deserve them. I don’t know why I have them. I don’t know why he’s given them to me. I just don’t know.” They make their way out of Paris and see a Meritocrat destroy Eiffel’s Folly to control the rioting. He learns that his family were part of the Harlequins. Has he been working for the wrong people? And then he nearly kills Bertie and he kills any faith he had left in his ability to lead this group without putting them in danger.

In the end, all of this leads to Prague. He’s lost his faith, he’s doubting his god, he’s doubting the Meritocrats, he’s doubting his choices. “I am the weak link.” “You might believe in me, I don’t anymore.” He’s afraid he’ll crack, make choices that put them at risk, and if he can’t trust himself to protect them, why is he still here? He has to leave. Partly to sort himself out, to deal with his own issues, but also for them. He can’t stay in command when he can’t trust his own choices. “I don’t trust myself, and I don’t trust myself around you.” If someone gets killed, that’s on him. “I know that if something happens again and I crack…I might not be able to do anything to save you.” At the end of the day, he’s still trying to protect them. He just believes that the best protection he can offer is his absence.

And...a little Sasha heartbreak as frosting on this pain cake. Zolf promised to help with her degenerative magical disease. He promised that he wouldn’t let her die. As long as she was with him, he’d be able to slow it down. They’d go do research and look into it and find someone else well-versed in magic and diseases who could cure her. He promised. And then he left. And sure, she could have done it on her own. She could have pushed “cure my disease so I don’t die” to the top of their priority list. She could have told Hamid what was happening, immediately sought out the Aphrodite lot as the cleric of Artemis suggested. She could have done that alone. But this is Sasha we’re talking about, and the only person Sasha ever trusted enough to willingly ask for help was Zolf. And she sits there, listening to him in Prague, listening to all the reasons that he feels he needs to leave. She never brings up her sickness as a reason for him to stay, never even hints at it. She listens to everything he says, and she tells him he should be free to leave. “If you’re choosing to go, then...you should have the choice. That should be allowed.”

#rqg #rqg spoilers #zolf smith #meta #I love him a lot

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urlocalkpoptrash · 5 years

Text

Bad Time For A Good Time| Chapter 23.

Chapter 23: In the morning.

Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Reader.

Warning: Cursing.

Prev| Next

Jeon Jungkook is the ultimate bachelor; guarded, angry, rich, body count that puts the numeric system to shame, and aimless - what else could a girl want? You’ve been working in the same dead end job, hoping it would get you somewhere. You finally have your foot in the door, and the person you need to win over is slamming your foot out. What can you do?

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

There he was, on your couch, like he didn’t just throw you out of his house a week ago. He sat there, shoulders slouched, his damp, loose curls stuck to his forehead from the rain. He looked - for a lack of better words, miserable. You felt a dull ache in your chest that sat all by its lonesome, but you knew that this would soon grow. You didn’t move at first, you just stared at him from the front door, which you hadn’t even closed yet. He brought his head up, his eyes breaking passed the barrier of hair that had been previously blocking them.

“Are you going to close your door?” He asked, his voice was barely audible, you actually didn’t fully hear what he had said, but you could make out the words by his lips.

“Oh, um. Yes,” you cleared your throat, letting the door slip from your fingers, dragging your nails along the wood as it closed.

“I’m going to get some wine,” you quickly hurried to the kitchen, knowing that if you were going to have to deal with all this now, you’d need something to drink.

You moved around the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses. You stopped for a moment, looking down at the glasses, your eyes sweeping over the crystal lip. What is going on? Was your first thought. You had texted him, called him, emailed him and contacted his assistant - you got nothing in return, and now here he was, waiting for you in your living room. You reached over, grabbing a hold of a fresh bottle of wine, one you hadn’t broken into yet. You collected all your items, and hurried back to the couch. He didn’t look up at you this time, his eyes seemed to never move from his hands, which clasped onto one another, his fingers shaking from holding so tight. It seemed as if he was fighting to keep himself from falling apart, like his hands were a flood gate, keeping the waters of his emotions from rushing out.

“Would you like some?” You set down the glasses, lifting the wine as a if gesturing to the bottle.

“Please,” He again barely spoke loud enough.

You pulled open the cork, setting it on the edge of the table, pouring yourself about a half of a glass, and doing the same for him. He finally moved forward to grab the stem of your wine glass, his shaking fingers keeping a hold.

“Are... are you okay? Did something happen?” You asked after taking a sip, seeing how distraught he was, and that he came to you, something must have been wrong.

“I have no one...” he spoke up, setting his empty glass on your table, tipping it towards the wine bottle, and you obliged, filling it half way again.

“What do you mean, kook?” You set your glass down, leaning forward a little, trying to hear him better.

“Everyone I once trusted has betrayed me, all of them. My best friends, the friends of yours I made, my father... you.”

And there it was, the dull ache had started to spread, and was no longer dull. It felt like a pressure, holding you back against the couch.

Your head fell forward slightly, unable to look at him, to see the broken man that you had created. You two both sat in silence, except for the often sound of Jungkook taking a drink from his glass.

“Are you going to finish that?” He asked, pointing to your barely touched cup.

“No... you can have it if you want,” you hadn’t even finished your sentence before he was grabbing your wine, and pouring it into his own.

“Can I ask you something?” He blurted out between large gulps of your red wine.

“Of course,” you knew the moment those words came from your mouth, you’d regret it.

“Was I too broken?” You watched as he brought the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping off residual dribbles of wine.

Your lips parted, allowing you to take in a large amount of air, you felt like your lungs were starting to burn, and you needed to fill them with anything but the gasoline it felt like you were drinking.

“Is that... is that why you think all this happened?” It was now your turn to be unable to speak louder than a whisper.

“I was too broken to be loved, or maybe I was too broken to see what was happening? I was too broken to see I was being used again,” he grabbed the neck of your wine bottle, tipping it back into his mouth.

“You’re not broken, Jungkook. You’re guarded, and rightfully so,” you hoped that answer would sedate his need to know why.

“Guarded,” he snorted, taking another swig of his liquid courage, “I let you in like the dark swallows the light, like it was so easy for you to break down my walls. Why did you do that? Why did you break down my walls, just to leave them in pieces when you left,” his voice cracking the deeper he got into the question.

“I...I didn’t intend to do that... I wanted to explain everything to you, I wanted give you closure so maybe you could pick up some of the ruble after the storm..” you shifted in your seat, playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Can I tell you about a painting, y/n?”

“Uhm, sure you can, whatever you need to do, kook.” You encouraged him, although your were unsure of his motives, and the quick change of subject.

“There is this painting by Edvard Munch, and it’s called love and pain. He painted it in 1895. In the painting there is a man, he painted in all blues and grays, and he is hunched over in a girls lap. She has this fire red hair, and her skin is pale. She is holding him, her lips on his neck. Now, to Munch she is just holding a broken man together. After he came out with it, one of his good friends and critics, told him that it looked like a vampire, like the girl was biting his neck and taking the life out of him. Munch, himself, never called it Vampire, but it is famously known as such. I used to look at the painting and see her as the love and him as the pain, she is trying to heal the pain in him with her love... but, after all this I can see why his friend saw a vampire. I gave you pieces of me, and hoped you could at least help me carry the pain. I didn’t need you to bare it all for me. I didn’t want you to heal it, I wanted you to be there for me, despite it. What I thought was you holding me, and helping me... was actually you sucking everything out of me, leaving only the pain.”

Your eyes had started to water half way through, and it was all too painful to listen to what he was saying, but you did, because he deserved to get this off his chest. He wasn’t cursing at you, he wasn’t yelling at you, he wasn’t calling you names, he was just so hurt and you were the root of all the pain he had been feeling.

“Now,” You took a deep breath, letting your chest fully rise, and fall before picking up your sentence, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” his voice was starting to grow more and more hoarse.

“After figuring out that you see me as a vampire, as someone who is nothing more than an energy drainer - are you finally able to hate me? Does that make it easier to move on? To forget about me?”

The ache was moving, it had spread passed your chest, and was now mingling with your arms, wrapping around the muscles, and latching on to the veins.

He laughed, but it was humorless, there was no joy or happiness in the darker ring of his laugh, “I’ve tried, you know? I’ve tried to hate you, because I am aware that hating you, would feel a hell of a lot better than still being so fucking in love with you,” you watched as he brought his head up, finally being able to see his eyes, and they were red, tears had been falling for longer that you could comprehend, “I am so unbelievably, and irrevocably in love with you.”

Your heart skipped three beats, your breath getting caught some where between your lungs and lips. You wanted so badly to take away this pain, to make him stop loving you, to go back into time and never take the offer. It was tearing you apart that you couldn’t make this better.

“And you know what the worse part of this is? After everything you’ve done, and after this whole fucking mess, I still ran to you. You were the person I wanted to comfort me, you still make me feel calm, and it’s so fucked up cause you never loved me. I’m just pathetic,” his words were starting to turn into a soft cries, his shoulders shaking when he took deep breaths.

“You couldn’t be further from the truth, Jungkook. I am also in love with you, and I tried so fucking hard not to be. I did awful things to make me forget about my feelings for you. Those things not only effected you, but it hurt so many other people. I wasn’t supposed to love you, you weren’t supposed to break your wall down for me. I was just going to be in and out of your life, and I couldn’t do it, and after a little bit of time, I WANTED to be in love with you, I wanted to have you in my life. I still want you, kook. I would do anything I could to take everything I did back, and just meet you as normal people. I would have loved you better than any other woman.” You hadn’t noticed, but you were also crying, tears had started to pool on your couch, where they would fall from your chin.

“Why are you doing this to me?” A soft cry shook through his body, a little high pitched whine rang from the back of his throat, he had been holding everything in, all the pain of you breaking his heart, his best friend being in love with the same girl he was in love with, the people he loved betrayed him. He wasn’t just crying over you, and you realized it wasn’t you that lost everything, it was him, and he didn’t deserve that.

You moved quickly across the couch, pulling him into your arms, where he curled into himself, hiding his face in your neck. Silent sobs broke through his aching chest and tensed his muscles. The hurt he was pouring out was hanging in the air, and it made you cry as well, you could just feel how bad he was suffering, and right now you had to let him release it.

After almost an hour of broken sobs, angry tears, and many, MANY tissues, he was finally just sniffling. He had sunk down on to the couch at some point, and his head was now in your lap. Your fingers gently raking through his hair, which had dried up from the rain. His puffy red rimmed eyes were closed, and his breathing had started to even out again.

“I’m sorry,” He hiccuped, grabbing onto your leg.

You covered your mouth not to giggle, the drunk hiccups were starting, and they were already sounding so adorable.

“For what, Gguk?” You pushed his fringe away from his forehead.

“This wasn’t all your fault, and as much as I wanted to place all the blame on you, I know that wouldn’t be fair,” he cracked open his lids, his lashes had clumped together from the tears.

“I place all the blame on myself, kook. So, if you feel like you need to do the same. I would completely understand why.”

“That wouldn’t be right. A lot of the bad things that happened to us was Macy,” He hiccuped, closing his eyes again.

“What? Your ex girlfriend?” You could feel the confusion start to morph your face into a quizzical look.

“Yeaaaaah,” he dragged out the word like it was fifteen syllables long.

“Uh, do you care to elaborate?” You looked down at him, raising one of your brows.

He shook his head with a small giggle, turning his face away in your legs. You would have to remember to ask him in the morning when he was sober, or at least hungover.

“Okay, kookie. Do you want to go to bed?” You rubbed his arm gently.

“Mhm,” he flung his legs over the couch, his foot hitting the edge of table, knocking over the little cork you had sat down earlier, “Ow,” he whined, looking at you when he sat up slowly, “You hit my foot on the table,” he wagged his finger at you.

“Me?!” You laughed, standing up, your bones popping in protest. You reached your hand out, and he slapped his hand down.

With a hard tug you pull Jungkook from the couch, and he tumbles, falling into you. You wrap your arms around his towering figure. He looks down at you with a sweet, drunk smile.

“I missed you,” he whispered, leaning his head against yours, “I’m glad you let me in your house, even after I kicked you out so rudely.”

“I deserved it,” you whispered back, looking into his eyes.

He nodded, which made you giggle. You draped one arm around his waist, and lead him to your bedroom where he fell dramatically on to your bed, nuzzling his face into your pillows.

“They smell like you,” he mumbles into your cotton pillow sheet covers.

“It’s where I sleep,” you giggle, grabbing the bottom of his sweats to pull them down.

“Ooooh, now what?” He turns his head, looking over his shoulder, suggestively moving his eyebrows.

“Now, we go to sleep. You need it, and so do I,” you slip into your bed, lifting the covers to let him roll into them.

He drove under your comforter, feet first before turning to his side, pulling you into his chest, “the good thing about staying at your house, means you won’t leave me in the middle of the night... right?” The sadness that had been so strong earlier was back in his voice, and you just wanted to hold him and never let go.

“Right, kookie. I’m not going to leave you in the middle of the night,” you kissed his collarbone.

“Does that mean you’re going to leave me in the morning?” He swallows, closing his eyes.

“I’ll be here for as long as you want me,” you speak softly, just as he places a tender kiss onto your forehead.

“Forever,” he mumbles, sleep sinking into his heavy lids.

“We’ll see how forever sounds when you’re sober.”

You know that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, and that forever sounds perfect, but you know that alcohol can make you feel and say things you don’t mean. But, for now, you are content wrapped up in his arms.

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growingstronglikeahighgardenrose · 5 years

Text

All is calm, when it snows

12 Days of Sanditon Prompt: Snow Characters: Charlotte Heywood Short: The cold wet snow set on a simultaneously freezing and burning sensation throughout her face. She could stay here forever, unperturbed. She was experiencing a winter right now.Perhaps, after a strong and harsh winter, and a period of hibernation, the circumstances could change, so that everything which had died or hidden during winter, could grow back stronger, bigger and better than before. Like nature, she would use this season to recover, and in the new year, she would grow and become Charlotte again.

Nothing quite paralleled the quiet of the countryside when it snowed.

It was somewhere around dawn on the 14th of December and not a single bird was singing.

There wasn’t even a trace of wind.

Between the glowing hills coated in white, tinted a pearlescent pink in the early light of morning, stood a house.

It was by no means a small house, but it was most definitely snug when one took into account the number of people living inside of it.

Fifteen people, amongst them thirteen children beneath the age of 21, lay abed. There was not a sound to be heard in the yellow rooms downstairs, except for the gentle spinning of the cat and the heavy breathing of the dog.

Just seconds earlier though, there had been a presence in the house making the floorboards creak. It had been the 22 year old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Heywood. But, like a thief, she had sneaked out of the house.

Crunch.

A first breaking of the divine silence happened when Charlotte put her booted foot down in the snow.

The sky was pink and purple, still struggling to free itself of the dark of the night.

She’d been a poor sleeper for the last couple of months. Her thoughts were filled with worries and memories, and her heart was heavy with an awful cocktail of emotions. She fell asleep late, and nightmares interrupted her sleep with regular intervals.

And once she woke up in the morning, after a night filled with terrors, it took her brain all of two minutes to remember everything which had happened in Sanditon. Then, her Esprit decided on whether she’d be angry with the people of Sanditon, or sad for herself that day. Most days the sadness won out, but there were those days when she was angry with Mr. Parker for daring to let her hope, angry for kissing her and mad for treating her like she was a child so many times.

But by the end of those days, the anger burned out, and there was nothing left but her bleeding heart. To her heart it didn’t matter what had been said and done, it belonged to Sidney Parker, and that was that.

Months of being at home, surrounded by her precious siblings, with days filled with chores and nothing to remind her of Sanditon, had helped her to find her footing again. But she wasn’t healed yet.

She’d never left home before, and Sanditon had been a whirlwind adventure. She’d become so invested in the town, its troubled persona’s and intrigues, that it felt almost strange to settle back into the slower pace of life in Willingden. Here there was one piece of news a week. When someone was having a problem, it was discussed immediately. Here, a new day didn’t mean a new set of problems to solve.

Though time had taken the edge off of the emotions, she still hadn’t processed many of the things that had happened. Every time she was certain about her interpretation of an event, she woke up with a new insight to reinterpret said event.

She’d woken up tonight like she had so many other nights. But this night, as she prepared to start another thirty minutes of tossing and turning before sleep took her again, her eye fell on the special colour of the night sky.

A colour she knew, though she wouldn’t have been able to name it until she saw it.

Yet it was enough to get her out of bed and lure her towards the window. It was the colour of a snowy sky.

Gone was the plaid of ackers in various shades of brown, gone were the leafless trees and evergreens. All was white and bright in the morning light.

So, careful to not step on any creaking planks, she put on all of her warmest clothes. Two pairs of woollen stockings, two warm shifts, and on top of that one of her warmest dresses and her winter coat. On went her high boots, wrapped around her neck was a sloppily knitted scarf gifted to her by one of her sisters a year ago. She put her hat on her head and put her hands in her gloves, and off she was.

Inside of her a storm was raging, but outside there was an ultimate peace. The snow sparkled untouched. Soon enough the children would get up and start making snowmen and throwing snowballs, but right now the lush new carpet of nature was hers alone.

Crunch.

A smile fought against her currently habitual sombre straight lips and won the battle. With a smile, she took another step.

And then she ran.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.

Away from her nightmares.

Away from the downward spiral of her thoughts.

Forward she went.

No matter what had happened months ago, today was beautiful.

And tomorrow could be equally beautiful.

And today would be normal.

And tomorrow could be equally normal.

The only thing which made her sad, were her thoughts.

Yet, there was no use in being sad.

Sanditon was saved by the money of Lady Denham and Mrs. Campion.

Sidney’s family was saved because of his marriage to the woman.

Sanditon’s popularity had grown thanks to her help, Mr. Tom Parker had said so himself.

She’d gained two new and unexpected friends in Georgiana and Lady Susan, and both still wrote to her.

And she herself was now reunited with her beloved family.

The only thing that hadn’t ended as happily as it should’ve, was her relationship with Mr. Parker. But in the end, neither of them had a say in it. After weeks of telling him he should be more involved with his family, he’d finally changed his ways… and had even ended up making the ultimate sacrifice.

Crack, crack, crack.

Away from Sidney Parker.

She could always love and cherish the memories, but she couldn’t be sad anymore. Nothing had gone wrong.

Crack, crack.

The freezing chill felt like a hundred needles on her exposed skin. She could feel her lips drying and her cheeks growing red.

Crack, she fell, her foot sinking away in a hole which had been covered by snow.

She shielded her face as she was propelled towards the ground.

Thud.

She closed her eyes, her face crossing the final inches between air and ground.

The cold wet snow set on a simultaneously freezing and burning sensation throughout her face.

She licked her lips.

Delicious cold.

She slowly felt the hot air around her body slipping from between the layers of clothes, her body slowly becoming aware of the sharp cold.

The world was perfectly silent again.

She could stay here forever, unperturbed.

She was experiencing a winter right now.

Soon enough, her old affections would die in these harsh circumstances, and in Spring, her life would start over again: fresh and new. Who knew what adventure awaited her in the new year?

Hope.

Hope was what kept people going.

She was only twenty-two, she shouldn’t break down forever because of a single sad turn of events.

She opened her eyes. Right next to her face, was a single blade of green grass, uncovered by her fall.

Perhaps, after a strong and harsh winter, and a period of hibernation, the circumstances could change, so that everything which had died or hidden during winter, could come back bigger, better and stronger than before.

She allowed herself a minute to make a snow angel, spreading her arms and legs and pushing the snow aside with vigour. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that her angel form could take off and float, leaving her worries and sad feelings behind.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she twisted her head around as well. She could feel her lips stretching and cracking, but it didn’t matter. There was no one to kiss anyways. And besides…

She could recover. Like nature, she would use this season to recover, and in the new year, she would grow and become Charlotte again.

_______________________________________________

- By Lynn (growingstronglikeahighgardenrose) - Also available on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791467

- Prompt challenge hosted by @sanditoncreative

#12 days of sanditon #Sanditon #Charlotte Heywood

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strykingback · 4 years

Note

ʌ: comfort after a nightmare - for Violet & Hermes would be nice!

Warning the following drabble will contain these trigger warnings: Gore, Abuse, Blood, Vivisection, etc. Please do not read this if you have the following triggers.

Hermes was resting beside his lover Violet softly sleeping with her in their room together. The warmth of the pillow covering Hermes so quietly and like an embrace was just so comfortable to be in. If only he could see in her dreams that Violet could be having.

Then what better dream for Violet than that of her holding her beloved Hermy in her arms kissing him whenever he was happy or sad. What better place than to be in than a field of flowers. “Mmm.. Hermy...” she softly spoke outside of her dream in such a tired voice.

However for Hermes, it was not a dream more or so.. his torturous nightmare of when he was being experimented on like a rat. Just how he remembered it all.. being cursed with immortality, having his light magic taken away from him, his body in penultimate pain every time he moved (Luckily the pain subsided after the first thousand years or two).

Being in his cave Hermes had not witnessed the End of Ancient Remnant, The Grimm Titan War, or the Great Resurgence, instead when he first walked out he had witnessed the blinding light of the sun for the first time in ages, and the floating city of Atlas.

Going to investigate his body was totally in the nude due to his clothes deteriorating and people questioning what happened to him. His malnourished state, and others asking how was he even able to survive for that long.

Hermes did not reply to no one but he was taken up by the Atlesian police and questioned, which he answered everything truthfully and honestly, but he also shown them that he was immortal. Their eyes could not believe it at first,.. just how fast he was able to heal. However if he held the secrets to immortality then the Atlesian military would want it.

Thus, instead of being released he was sent to an unknown facility, little did he know.. this was the place where his torture would begin. In the real world Hermes began to jerk and move around a bit softly moaning in anguished pain at the memories that were playing in his head once more. “PIECE OF SHIT!!!” “MOTHER FUCKING SACK OF BALLS!!!” “BEST MAKE US IMMORTAL!” “COME ON THEN CRAZY!!! ARENT YOU GONNA GET UP AND FUCKING FIGHT!” Those were the insults that was thrown at him by the Atlesian soldiers that had shouted at him and made him feel like shit. Each punch they swung a flow of blood came from his mouth and nose, from each kick he felt his ribs getting cracked, and from each stomp his hands and fingers were broken. Yet.. it always healed

Back in the real world Hermes kept moving around and this time what turned from moans turned to groan... yet he remembered something that he did not want to remember for so long.. his first Vivisection.

He could remember the surge of pain that he felt and how he screamed so loudly when waking up to see his own organs being pulled out and played with, rivers of blood just dripping from it leaving even Hermes horrified at the sight as he threw up and fainted back into unconsciousness.

Yet came the next part...of his first trial of being an experiment, the flaying of his skin, being hooked up to a machine that shot a stinging laser piercing into his soft tender like skin then just everything being pulled off... and Hermes witnessing his own muscle and veins.. all made him but horriefied as he fainted from the shock.

Y̬e̝̣̪̻̩t̖̳͠ ͓̣̳̣i͏̜͖̙̬͚ͅt̤͖ ̡̳̤̰̹͇ͅa̛͚̠̖͙̦̦̭l̠̤͙̝̬̙w͍̳͇a̡y̢̟̳̱̹̺s͕͕͟ ̟͕̣̼͜h̸̤̝̤e͟a̴̖̫̹̞̫͔̩l̜̮̦̦e̛͖̩̩d҉͖̲̬ ̙̬̟̻̝̻

Coming next was his the R&D testing for newer weapons, he was tested like a rab lat meaning to run before he got blasted to bits, and nearly dying of course. Sometimes he succeeding surviving, sometimes he didnt which lead to him witnessing his own limbs getting blown off or being poisoned by biological warfare.

Yͣ̏̚eͧ̈́͂̽ͭ͊̑҉͡t̛̂̆ͨͥͩͣ͏ ̿̓͠iͥ̈́ͩͧt̶̡ͪ̌ͣ̾ ̛͗ͣ͘a̓ͨͣ̏͋ļ̊̌ͬ̐w͌̐̒ͮͥ̅́a̴̴̎͛̃ͫ̎̋y̡͒͘͢s̸̓ͨ ͛̊̇ͫ͟hͫͧ̽̀͂̔̇e̢̾̊̇̐̌́a̸͑͂ͭ̐̾̊̏ļͩ́eͥ̈́̏ͫ̈́̓̉͆͜͞d̷ͪ̄̿́̾ ͛̊ͭ̃̈͛̆͢͝

Which out of Hermes’ dream he began to softly whimper and his breathing starting to quicken and his body growing goosebumps as his movement increased to the point where he was tugging on the blanket stirring Violet from her dream.

Next was the constant silence of being alone for years as Hermes was beginning to break down the voices of the past all of them damning him for abandoning them all for his quest for playing God. “Why Hermes.. why would you do this.” The voice of his wife spoke

“You have tried to play as God Hermes, However you must learn about the beauty of life.. your beloved will be far from your reach..” The voice of the God of Light said.

“Hermes please.. we want you to come home.. please... stop your experiments...” The voice of one of his fathers spoke in his mind.

“I must... stay sane...” Hermes said weakly breathing heavily in a sweat, he clearly remembered what his room looked like how he had markings of each day on there, equations of a possible escape in the Ancient Remnant language, tally marks of each and every day that had passed.

The next experiment was one that tested Hermes himself yet this experiment was so indescribable...even some scientists found it inhumane... and just.. a major violation of Hermes’ own human rights... feeding him to a Grimm Squid which not only took its time “playing” with Hermes.. but ripping him apart.. bit by bit. As always with his wounds and everything...

Y̸̔̍̂̑̔̂Ĕ̶̌͗ͤ̏͐ͪͨŢ̓͒ͦͭ̇ͤ̓̋͛̕ ̴̢ͬ͐̄I̢̍ͤ͒̇T̶̢͐͐͆͟ ̒̎͛͝Aͤͦͫ͒ͪ͌͂́L̢ͫͧ͐̓͂W͑̆̇͑ͯ͑͂͐́҉̸A̡ͣ̆͋̀Ẏ͐ͧͣ҉̢Ṡ͗͞ ͩͯ͠F̌ͬ͟U̒̚Č́͏́K͐͆̐̂̈I̛̽͐̒ͮ͊̎̾̓Nͩ̎̓ͦͮ̾̚G̴ͫ̎҉ ͥͦ̉̔̿҉̕͘H̡̾̂͑͜E̶̛̒͑̿͋̆ͭȦͨ͞Ļͣͦ̃̀E̵͗̂͋ͬ͛͊͒̓D̡͑̉ͫͯͦͭͯͩ͠!ͦ̿͆͠!ͩ́ͫ̍ͥ̆!̢̇̿̌̉͋ͥͩ͞!̔ͤ̋̂̿̅ͦ͏̕

Once again out of his dream Hermes, started to sweat profusely and move to the point where he began rip away the blanket as got on all fours... groaning with a bit of distortion to it... like a wild animal. Which when Violet stirred waking up moaning a bit. “Hermy... go to bed... ple- Hermy??”

Finally the final experiment that broke him... that destroyed his mind entirely. The Semblance Limiter project he remembered the cool steel being around his neck as he attempted to go full power and how he was no longer called Hermes.. only SUBJECT-731.

And when he tried to go full power... and that first shock came through his brain and mind..

“YES!!! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAA~!!! MORE PAIN!!! FUCK ME!!! KILL ME!!! I WANNA SEE MORE OF MY INNARDS!!! YOUR GOD DEMANDS IT!!!!”

Hermes screeched at the top of his lungs causing every scientist to leave the room in horror... as he rushed the window slamming into it and licking it wildly like a wild animal. ...

Finally back in the real world, Hermes looked up to the sky and screamed loudly waking up crying and sobbing. “KILL ME!!! PLEASE!!! AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! MAKE ME FEEL SOMETHING GODS!!!!” Hermes screamed loudly causing Violet to wake up immediately and allowing herself to quickly hug Hermes tightly. “Hermes!! Hermy!! Come back its me! Violet.. you’re okay! You’re okay!!” She pleaded which Hermes’ insane laughter came to an end looking at her with his expression softening up with tears flowing out of his eyes and quickly hugging her tightly.

“It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts...” Hermes sobbed softly. “Shh.. Hermy, its all over now ok.. its over.. You’re safe now.. you’re safe now..” Violet spoke rubbing her beloveds head and giving him plenty of kisses on the head. Yet.. while the wounds of old has healed.. the mind never forgets. But that doesnt mean every memory was bad. Hermes meeting Team RNJR and BOUT (Blade and Outsider), Merlinda helping him and every Atelier scientist making working to find a way to safely remove the Semblance limiter from his neck, The kindness of Louvel reaching out to him, and even better Exaltia and Cashmere soothing his insanity giving him a chance to regain his sanity.

Finally the ultimate thing that truly helped his mind heal...being with Violet... thats what helped the most. He just stayed there until he was calmed down and sleeping again this time in Violets embrace.. just her embrace alone felt warmer than any blanket in the world.

#xbloodsoakedx #[The Sane God- Sane!Hermes]#tw: gore. tw :vivisection #tw: blood #tw: abuse #//Hermes has been through the SHITTER #//And theres a good reason why he resents Atlas a lot.

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