#like a stake through my dead black heart * . ✦ . ˚ (musings)

[vampiricgirlboss]

𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔶'𝔰 𝔞𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔠 dark cottagecore, car rides, dusty furniture, exotic eye makeup, Florence Welch songs, overgrown gardens, falling in love with your best friend, dark nail polish, salty air of the beach, the colors of fall dawns, spiderwebs, a dusty old organ, black tea, a lace parasol, bats flying at dusk, eclectic styles, hearing the rain fall on a porch roof, embroidery, a cozy kitchen, the soft strings of a harp, rock records, flowers growing in a graveyard, gauzy gowns, pets snuggling against you, potlucks, band tees, love poetry.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Heaven and Hellfire

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader 

Warnings: blood, gore, typical Stranger Things critters, small angst 

A/N: So this is my dabble into Eddie Munson and Stranger Things because “plot bunnies.” Whether I continue will depend on how fickle my muse will be. 

***

Dread narrowed the space around your heart until every beat was painful. 

The sky boiled with angry black clouds over Hawkins, adding to your sense of urgency as you headed for the trailer park at a dead run. All day the drive to hurry, go, don't stop, had driven you forward like a mad woman, but it wasn't until you reached the town that the horrible feeling you would be too late set in. 

It rose to choke your throat on every mission, but this one was the worst. This time, you knew the personal stakes involved. This time, failure was not an option. 

As you approached the rundown trailer, you could sense the wrongness that clung to it. There was an evil inside no one in their right mind would go toward. 

You never slowed down. 

Up the porch stairs and through the door, barreling in like Hell Hounds nipped at your heels, you stumbled into the living room, searching for the way through to the Upside Down.

There! Practically pulsing in the ceiling, the dark vortex spread, black lines of residual ooze spilling over into this world. 

You slowed down only long enough to throw a handful of powder into the air, causing the creeping lines to freeze and slowly begin to retreat. It wouldn't close the portal but would stop it from spreading beyond the room. Then, you threw yourself upward with strength greater than that of a human, tumbled once and landed in The Upside Down on your feet. 

The smell gagged you. You would never get over the stench of this hideous otherworld. 

As if you could feel grains of time trickling down your spine, you threw yourself out the door, down the stairs and ran again toward the pair in the distance.

Surrounded by dead and dying bats, the boy you knew as Dustin held onto the one you'd come to save.

"I didn't run away this time, right?" Eddie murmured.

Dustin shook his head. "No. You didn't run."

You fell to your knees beside them, causing Dustin to gasp and grip Eddie tighter. 

"The fuck! Where did you come from!" the boy demanded, but you couldn't take your eyes off Eddie. 

His face was beloved, though the blood on it made yours boil. How dare the foul creatures of The Upside Down do this to him!

"If you want me to save your friend, move away now," you said, finally turning to look at Dustin. 

Whatever he saw in your eyes had him scrambling backward, allowing you to gather Eddie close and cradle him in your arms as you longed for.

You smiled down at him and cupped his cheek. "You are braver than you think."

"I know you," he whispered, a shaking hand rising toward your face. 

Warm blood smeared across your skin, but you'd had blood on you before.

"Yes, as I know you," you agreed. "Take what you need from me and live."

He smiled sadly. "Too late."

Gently, you shushed him and lightly stroked his cheek. "Never. Not for me."

You pressed your lips to his, ignoring the copper taste of blood, seeking past it for the heady taste of Eddie. The taste you knew in your soul.

His tongue met yours, and you sighed, letting your power unfold as you poured your life force into him.

Dustin gasped and raised his hand to shield his eyes when the glow around you went supernova, gleaming ever brighter as what you hid from the world unfolded from your back.

Big and broad, the soft grey wings speared high behind you as they materialized and slowly spread, coming to rest over you like a warm cape.

Eddie's ability to participate grew stronger as the worst of his wounds healed until his hand gripped the back of your neck and pulled you tightly to him.

At that point, you gentled your kiss until you could draw away and smile at him. "There you are."

He stared in awe. "Angel… am I dead?"

"If you're dead, so am I, 'cause I can see her too," Dustin murmured, also starring.

"You're not dead. It was close, though. You did a courageous but idiotic thing today," you chided softly. "And people call me Dove."

"Dove…" Eddie whispered. "I dream of you."

You smiled and pressed your forehead to his. "I dream of you, too."

"That's great and all, but can you discuss dreams and make goo-goo eyes at each other somewhere not here!" Dustin asked, frantically pointing at the sky.

You looked up and found the swarms of bats regrouping, drawn to your light. 

"Help Eddie up," you commanded as you let him slip from your grasp. 

Dustin scrambled to follow your order, but Eddie grabbed your hand. 

"You can't fight them."

Fear filled his eyes, but you only smiled gently. "Sweet of you to worry, but I'll be fine."

He wasn't strong enough to keep you in his grasp, and you pulled away, rising to face the fluttering darkness. 

The bats chattered and shrieked, filling the sky with noise and the scent of death.

They came on a wave, rushing toward you, but you weren't afraid. Bats were no match for the power you wielded. 

They dove shrieking. 

You spread your wings, shielding Eddie and Dustin as the glow around you intensified until you unleashed it with a scream.

The blast tore through the swarm, shredding and killing each one. They fell smouldering out of the sky to drop like rags on the ground.

You turned back to Eddie and Dustin. Their gaping mouths would typically make you chuckle, but you were in dangerous territory, and your light would draw worse things than bats to you. 

"We have to go now."

They didn't move. 

"What the hell are you?" Dustin finally managed to spit out. 

Eddie said nothing. He was on his feet but teetering, strength waning with each passing second. 

"I will explain everything, but if we don't go now, we're not getting out-"

Something roared too close for comfort. 

Both jolted toward you as you vanished your wings and hurried to set yourself under Eddie's other arm.

With the two of them hobbling as fast as possible, you made it back to the trailer and inside.

You turned toward Dustin and grabbed him by the jacket.

"Hey, what-"

You grinned pleasantly. "Sorry about this."

Before he could speak, you chucked him upward through the portal. 

He yelled and landed on his face, but luckily the mattress broke his fall. 

You turned to Eddie. 

"You first."

"I can get myself through; you can't," you insisted.

"I can't leave you here alone."

You sighed and grabbed him by the leather jacket. "Stubborn. Always so stubborn. This will likely hurt."

Before he could ask for clarification, you leapt upward, managed to haul both of you through the portal, and flipped to take the fall on your back.

Eddie landed on you, stealing your breath but not from pain. His warmth was everything right in your world.

Then, the clock began to chime.

"Shit!"

You scrambled to your feet, hauled Eddie up and pushed Dustin toward the door.

"No, that means-" Dustin didn't finish.

He didn't need to. 

Seconds later, the world fell to chaos as the ground split open and The Upside Down began to break through.

You dragged Eddie and pushed Dustin, forcing him to run on his injured leg, but you couldn't stop.

Not until a few minutes later when the world stopped shaking.

Of one mind, the three of you collapsed to catch your breath as fire made the sky over Hawkins glow red.

"Oh, god, Max," Dustin whimpered, suddenly starting to cry. 

"She's not dead," you assured him quietly.

"What?" He stared at you before shaking his head. "How do you know that? How do you know anything? Who the hell are you?"

You glanced at Eddie and sighed. Wary suspicion had hardened his features. 

"I know because if Max were dead, the world would still be ending, and we would still be running. How she is still alive, I don't know. I won't know until I can talk to Eleven."

"You know Elle?"

"Of her. We've never met in person."

Dustin instantly grew suspicious. "What's that mean? Who do you work for?"

"Henderson," Eddie murmured, speaking for the first time. "Pretty sure she kissed me back to life. From what you've told me about Elle, I think we can trust Dove isn't a bad guy."

The sound of your name from his lips caused your heart to flutter. 

"I didn't kiss you back to life; I shared my life force with you," you murmured, watching him watch you.

"Why?" he asked, subconsciously scrubbing at the blood on his rings. 

The small glimmer of silver in the night drew your notice, and you sat mesmerized by the movement, wondering if those hands would feel as good on you as they appeared. 

"Dove?"

You glanced up, realized you'd been staring and looked away quickly. "Because I had to."

Eddie scooted closer until your thighs touched. "Why?"

That single point of contact made you shiver. "Because I had to," you whispered, finding his dark eyes in the night. 

Orange and red lit the sky, sirens screamed, but all was silent and dazzling when you looked at him. Unable to help yourself, you reached up and pulled the dirty bandana from his hair, desperate to get your hands on his curls.

"Why?" he whispered, his fingers brushing the dried blood on your cheek. 

"Because." You drifted closer. Closing the distance between his lips and yours, you whispered, "You're mine, Eddie Munson. In this life, in every life. I will always find you."

Dustin gasped, but you didn't hear a sound as you pressed your mouth to Eddie's. 

No longer did he taste like copper. The sands of time weren't trickling down your spine. Here in this quiet clearing, as the world burned around you, you were home. Everything was right and perfect.

His rings were hard but smooth against your neck as his hand came up to rest against your jaw. It was his touch that burned, filling your soul with fire. 

Your free hand slipped inside his jacket to trace down his chest as he pressed forward, kissing you fervently. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and your world expanded. In every life, he remembered that move, and in every life, it made you wet. 

"Um… yeah, still here."

You broke apart to look at Dustin, having forgotten the kid for a minute.

"I think we need to find somewhere to crash," Eddie murmured. 

"We've got a place. Hot water, food, security," you promised, getting to your feet. 

"We?" Dustin muttered.

"You'll see."

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga, We’re Going Down

part 2

masterlist

Yoongi had grown up on the streets of Daegu. His father had abandoned his mother before he was even born. It was a struggle to survive, but he’d always been drawn to music. He’d bartered for piano lessons from a local music store in exchange for free labor knowing his mother, who was struggling to raise him on her own, wouldn’t be able to afford them. They had a restaurant to keep afloat, just like Y/N’s family.

In time, he’d moved on from piano turning to rap. He loved to create, to pour his soul into his music. He established himself in the world of underground rap, and from there he’d clawed his way up to the top. Driven by a need to create, a need to be the best, the need to provide for his family. His mother had never been particularly supportive of his career path. She wanted a stable life for him, and music wasn’t what she considered stable. But here he was, the king of rap. He was on top of the world.  

When the fire that had driven him his whole career began to fizzle, he was understandably frustrated. But then there was her. She relit that flame. He had been enthralled almost giddy when he was brought all the information his bodyguard had dug up on her. He looked through pictures of her playing the cello, watched recordings of her previous performances. With every piece of information he learned, he felt closer to her. She was from a broken home balancing work and school to help support herself and her grandmother not to mention the father that hung around the family’s neck like a dead weight. He’d sunk the family into debt. There was no mother to speak of. She hadn’t had an easy life, but neither had he. They were the same that way, kindred spirits.

Knowing that Y/N had come from a troubled family made him feel closer to her, protective of her. She was an angel, and he wanted to take her away from it all, away from the miserable life she’d been forced to live. To say he was furious when he had been delivered the news of her new occupation would be an understatement. His bodyguard had paled looking at his phone after it chimed, and then explaining that he’d just gotten new piece of information on her. She was planning to become a sugar baby. She had just made a profile on some app called sugarbebe. He knew the showcase was her last concert, but he thought it was because she was working, not this kind of work. She was giving up music, and she’s was placing herself into the hands of some disgusting old man in the name of supporting her family. It was a sentiment he could admire, but he couldn’t allow his muse to be in the hands of some disgusting pervert. He couldn’t allow her to give up music. He needed to protect her.

So he’d concocted a spur of the moment plan. He would be her sugar daddy. It would keep her by his side, keep the passion to create flowing, and it would keep her out of harms way. It was perfect.  He got her, and she got to help her family.

As soon as he had her profile on sugarbebe, he’d sent a message requesting to meet her, and then it was a waiting game. Would she be willing to meet him? Would she accept his proposal? If she didn’t he’d just have to make it an offer she couldn’t refuse. If she was willing to do this in addition to working two jobs and school, how could she refuse? He had every intention of being everything she needed. He would make it so that she didn’t need to work two jobs, so that she could keep playing the cello.

He’d been ecstatic when he’d gotten the message saying she would meet with him. He could barely contain his excitement. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Friday came all too soon. Classes flew by, and she had picked up Eun Jae from Halmeoni’s for the weekend. It would have been a normal day if not for the meeting looming over her head.  Every hour brought her closer to her meeting with MYG. He’d assured her that she would be allowed into the club and that she would be perfectly okay, but that didn’t do anything to calm her nerves. She didn’t even know what the man looked like, but at the very least she knew he wasn’t twice her age. Twenty-seven wasn’t too bad of an age gap, but it also brought about the question, why did someone so young need a sugar baby especially when they could afford to go to D-2?

Nina prodded and poked at her until she could barely recognize herself. The dress was tight against her body leaving very little to the imagination even though it didn’t expose her breasts and it covered her ass. But she had to admit, even begrudgingly, that it made her look good. It might not be as fancy as what the other girls in the club would be wearing, but at least she wouldn’t stick out. The dress was perfect. The earrings Nina had leant went well with it as well. They dangled down from her ears, and the sparkly black material would make them shimmer under the lights in the club. To make herself a little more comfortable in the outfit, she’d added a pair of semi-opaque black tights. The real problem was the heels. She wasn’t used to wearing heels that tall, and she was worried that she was going to break an ankle if she wasn’t careful. How Nina walked in them she would never know.

With one final look in the mirror she left the bathroom to find Eun Jae and Nina sitting in the one only other room in the apartment.

“What do you think?” She asked striking a silly pose to the delight of the little boy. “Eomma!” He shrieked running to attach himself to her legs. “You look bootful.”

“Thank you, baby.” She smiled crouching down so that she was on eye level with him. “Are you going to be good for Auntie Nina?” He nodded his head rapidly though his little face had a much more serious expression now. “You promise?”

“Pwomise.”

She held out her pinky linking it with his much smaller one before pulling him into a hug and showering him with kisses as he struggled to get out of her arms despite the peals of laughter that left him.

“I love you, buddy.” She cooed pressing her forehead against his before scooping him up in her arms and standing to face Nina. “It’s already past bedtime so…”

“Eomma.” The little boy whined pouting at the reminder that he should already be asleep.

“Bed time.” She told him sternly bouncing him slightly in her arms. If he didn’t get to bed soon, she’d have a very cranky toddler on her hands tomorrow. “He should go right down. His blankie and bambam the dinosaur are on the couch. He won’t go to sleep without the dinosaur.”

“I know.” Nina rolled her eyes fondly. “This isn’t my first rodeo.

“You know you’re welcome to anything in the fridge. You can use my laptop. I’ll text you when I get there.”

“You better.” Nina grumbled shooting her friend a playful glare. “Text me when you’re leaving too.”

“Of course.” She promised handing over her son with one last hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

Nina nodded accepting the little boy into her arms settling him on her hip even though his face was all scrunched up grumpily now that he was no longer in his mother’s arms. “Of course. I’m always happy to help. Be safe okay?”

“I will be.”

“Eomma!” Eun Jae whimpered reaching out for his mother upper lip wobbling and eyes round as saucers. It was all fun and games until it was time for mom to go, especially when it was near bedtime.

“I gotta go, baby.” She told him though it broke her heart to see him upset. She knew he was just tired, but it still broke her heart. “I’ll see you in the morning. Okay, buddy?”  She gave Nina a pained smile before picking up her clutch that only fit her keys, her card and her phone. “I’ll see you later!”

“Stay sexy. Don’t get murdered!” Nina called after her as she left the apartment rolling her eyes at her friend’s antics.

It pained her to splurge on the taxi to go to the club, and she knew it was silly, but she didn’t want MYG to see her coming from a bus stop on the off chance he was watching her when she arrived. She would take the late bus home, but she wanted to make a good impression arriving, just in case.

She was practically vibrating in anticipation the entire ride to D-2. She didn’t know what to expect from this. Would he be nice? Would he be sleazy? God, she hoped he wasn’t sleazy. She could put up with it, if he was, and she knew it was a long shot that he would be kind, but she still hoped that he was. It would make this so much easier if he was kind.

She couldn’t help the nerves. She had never done anything like this before. She’d never even considered doing anything like this before. Clubs, boyfriends, partying. She’d never gotten to do any of that stuff. She had had a family to take care of. By the time she’d reached the age where she could go out drinking, she’d had a kid to consider. She didn’t think she’d ever actually been to a club before. Tonight would be full of new experiences.

She was shocked when she arrived at D-2 that the bouncers were expecting her. One of the burly, intimidating men escorted her straight into the club and directly up to the VIP lounge stating that a Mr. Min would be with her shortly.

All she could do was nod her head mutely. She was dumb struck by the turn of events. She had thought that whoever she was meeting was rich, but she hadn’t expected to them to be VIP rich or so concerned with her making it in. Who had the kind of pull it took to get the bouncers to care for a patron like that. The man had even stated that if she needed anything, she just needed to ask which led her to believe that the rest of the staff knew who she was as well. It was highly disconcerting. Every moment she was inside the club made her more and more nervous. She had to keep reminding herself who she was doing this for, what was at stake. At least she knew his name now. Mr. Min.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. Waiting for her potential sugar daddy to arrive. The title made her cringe, a stark reminder of the position she was now in.

While Y/N was nearly sick with nerves, Yoongi was ecstatic. He watched as his bouncers led her into his club. She looked lovely. She always looked lovely, but she looked different than the photos of her he had seen, different than the demure lady he had seen at the showcase. While her outfit said, sexy, her face said nerves. Even there sitting under the lights of the club, she looked like an angel. The wide eyed way she watched everything made it clear she didn’t belong there. She was like a deer in the headlights. But Yoongi could fix that. He could help her adjust. She was meant to be in his world.

He took a moment to straighten out his shirt and smooth down his hair before approaching her. He wanted everything to be perfect.

“Kang Y/N.” He called stepping up to her watching in amusement as she practically jumped out of her seat out of shock as her eyes flew to his.

“Mr. Min.” She squeaked actually jumping up and stumbling it a bit in her heels, but Yoongi was there to catch her, gently lowering her back down to the couch again.

“You can call me Yoongi.” He flashed her a crooked grin, not quite a full smile, but enough of one to soften his intimidating features. He’d been told on more than one occasion that he had a resting face that looked like he wanted to kill everyone, and he didn’t want her to be scared of him. The wide eyed way she was staring at him told him it wasn’t working though.

She stared at the man next to her taking in all of his features. He certainly wasn’t old, and he certainly wasn’t ugly. He was pale, like he had never seen the sun before. The black shirt he wore highlighted that, but it worked for him. His dark eyes had an almost feline quality to them. They were intimidating as they took her in just as she was doing to him. She wanted to fade away and hide from those eyes. They were black as coal and far too intense for comfort, and it was with horror that she realized, she knew those eyes.

“You’re Agust D.” She breathed out her voice trembling in both shock and awe.

He grinned, a full gummy smile that looked so out of place on his intimidating face but at the same time so right. “I am, but you, Y/N, can call me Yoongi.”

“I…I think there’s been a mistake.” Her eyes darted around trying to find her clutch snatching it up when she found it and standing on shaking legs. Bobbing a hasty bow she tried to make a retreat only for her wrist to be caught in his hand, his long fingers completely encircling her wrist. Her eyes flew to his, wide, startled. “Mr. Min?”

“There’s no mistake.” His raspy voice sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t every day that a girl met the king of rap. It wasn’t every day that the king of rap brought you to his club wanting to be your sugar daddy. It couldn’t be real.

She shook her head trying to wake herself up, to bring herself back to reality, but he was still sitting there staring at her with those dark eyes.

“Why don’t we go to my office to talk? Would that be better?” He offered, and she nodded dumbly in response letting him lead her away from the noise to an office nestled in the back of the club.

The door closed sealing them in, blocking out the noise. She couldn’t believe it. Yoongi thought it was adorable. The confused look on her face, the little line between her brows, it was all adorable.

“You’re MYG?” She slowly asked trying to confirm the impossible thing that was being proposed. There was no way that Agust D was looking for a sugar baby let alone looking for her to be his sugar baby. It was too absurd.

“Min Yoongi.” He confirmed taking a seat behind his desk as she took a seat across from him. “I’m sorry for the confusion. I needed a certain amount of anonymity on the app. You understand right?”

“Of course.” She quickly agreed frightened of making the wrong move. She had no idea what to do in this situation. There wasn’t exactly a handbook, ‘What to do when your potential sugar daddy turns out to be famous?’. She felt completely out of her depth. “That’s understandable.” She smiled nervously avoiding eye contact. “Can I… can I ask a question?” It was tentatively spoken, nervous like she was afraid he was going to bite her.

Yoongi had to hold back a coo. She was just so fucking adorable, so innocent sitting there trembling under his gaze like a kitten someone had brought in from the cold. “Ask away, princess.”

She had to hold back a cringe at the endearment. She was by no means a princess. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He countered leaning across the desk. “Are you going to say no?”

Did she really have a choice? She needed the money. Her family needed the money. “I didn’t say that.”

He smirked knowing full well she couldn’t refuse him. She needed this. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to leave her out in the cold. “Four million won.” He offered watching as her eyes widened almost comically. They practically took up the whole of her face.

“What?” She whispered.

“Four million won for every meeting we have.” He offered watching her closely. She looked ready to bolt at any moment. He couldn’t have that, not when he was so close to having her in his arms.

“That’s… that’s very generous, but I…”

“But what? Is it not enough?” His head tilted to the side curiously.

“No! It’s more than enough, more than generous.” She stuttered rushing over her words in an attempt not to fuck this up.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Mr. Min.”

“Yoongi.”

“Yoongi.” She corrected smiling nervously. “I’m not sure I’m what you’re looking for. I have work and school…”

He cut her off waving a hand dismissively. “We can work around that. I have a very busy schedule. I would want you to be free in the evenings at least twice a week.” She nodded slowly waiting for him to continue. “I’d have the right to call for you whenever I want, but you have the right to say no. I understand you have other obligations. School. Work.” He would give her the option, but under the circumstances she was in, he didn’t think she’d say no. She couldn’t afford to say no.

“What if I had to cancel a prearranged meeting?”

“We’d reschedule” He shrugged hiding his glee at seeing her warm up to the idea.

She hesitated taking a deep breath to steady herself. “What would… what would you expect from me?”

There it was, the crux of it all. He was slowly backing her into a corner, herding her towards agreement. “Your company. Your affection.” She shuddered as his eyes dragged down the length of her body. “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. You have full control. We can have it written into the contract.” A lie. Yoongi wasn’t the type to give control to anyone else. But he could give her the illusion of control. “Four million won a meeting. More for overnight or late night meetings and public outings like parties or company events. I’ll provide the wardrobe for those.” He offered sweetening the deal. He knew it was a lot of money, but she was worth it. She was worth every penny.

He could see the conflict in her eyes, but he knew he had her. She knew it to. With how much he was offering she could get their heads back above water. They could fix the heating at the house. They could get a new winter coat for Eun Jae. He was outgrowing his. She could get him some new shoes too. She could pay for school. They could pay off the debt her father had landed them in. Halmeoni wouldn’t have to work so hard. “Okay.”

He grinned in triumph. “Okay.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll have the company draw up a contract. I can have it ready by Monday. That work for you?”

She nodded eyes fixed on her hands. “Yeah. That’s fine.” She whispered huffing in disbelief.

Yoongi stood up slinking over to her tilting her chin up to make her eyes meet his. He loved her eyes. They were so deep, so soulful. “Hey,” He murmured gently running a thumb over her bottom lip. “Don’t look so frightened. I’ll take good care of you.”

part 3

[sevlgi]

the special one

requested: yes

group: mamamoo

pairing: moonbyul x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: vampire!moonbyul, bartender!reader

warnings: blood, weapons, vampires

synopsis: Moonbyul was always used to getting her way. So encountering an entire bar warned against her powers, and led by a surprisingly feisty human, wasn’t exactly on her bucket list.

a/n: lowkey wanted to wait for byul’s birthday to post this but i couldn’t wait :D enjoy!!

word count: 3.3k

As soon as she stepped into the bar, Byulyi could smell the thing she had been craving for the past month. Well, two things: blood, and some good alcohol.

She paid no mind to the hands grabbing at her as she slid through the crowd, skillfully evading being pulled into a dance circle by a group of admittedly pretty girls. Sure, they were easy targets for feeding, but there needed to be some alcohol in her system before she dealt with horny foreigners.

“A bottle of your finest soju, please.”

She smiled at the waiter who turned around, a girl probably barely 20 years old. A perfect target, then- someone who didn’t know the kinds of creatures that frequented the darker bars of Seoul.

It wasn’t even an egotistical thing to say that no one had been able to resist the allure of Byulyi’s gaze for centuries, and she never expected an almost teenaged girl to be the one to break that record. To her surprise, the kid looked down instantly, voice sounding odd as she polished the glass in her hands. “One second, ma’am.”

Pursing her crimson-stained lips, the vampire checked her clothing for the unlikely chance of bloodstains on the black fabric. Maybe it was the dark smeared eye makeup? But usually, all her looks did was draw more people in, even without using the power behind her eyes...

“Another one of you, eh?”

When her eyes shifted over to the staff door that the boy had entered, she found a defiant gaze, eyebrows cocked and hip jutting to one side. Unlike the earlier bartender, you stared right into her eyes without a change to your expression, no lust or euphoria seeping into cold irises. “I’m sorry, you are?” Byulyi asked, sending you a small smile. 

You remained unimpressed, flinging a dishrag onto the bar counter as you slammed your hands down onto the stone and leaned in closer. In close proximity, you were interestingly beautiful, the lack of sympathy attractive in some twisted way. “Y/N. Manager, and a strong hater of you vampires. See yourself out.”

The short-haired woman shrugged, leaning back in the barstool and crossing her arms. “I don’t think I will, manager. Tell me, did you train the kid how to recognize people like me?”

Taking a good look at the points of Byulyi’s nails and the glint to her teeth, you evidently decided not to fight her, gritting your teeth instead as you matched her stance. “Ryujin’s smart. She isn’t as strong as me, maybe, but she knows enough to not be caught in your trap.”

Every word spat out of your mouth sounds like a barbed and poisoned insult aimed right at the vampire’s heart, but they make no impact on stone skin. Still smiling, Byulyi waved a hand at the alcohol littering the bar. “Well, since you know not to fight me, how about that soju?”

You bristled at being ordered to do something, but set an ice-cold bottle of the soju down on the counter. “The most expensive in the house,” you hissed, shoving it over at her. “And you’re going to have to pay. No one else is coming to serve you tonight, now that I know what you are.”

“See you soon, manager,” she saluted, cracking the soju open with a simple flick of her wrist. Even if nothing else resulted from the night, she’d found another first.

You were going to be the first person that Byulyi won over by herself, without the influence of any powers whatsoever. And yes, she would win you over somehow. Eventually.

At first, Byulyi had been confused by the vendetta you seemed to have against vampires. It was true that she didn’t fit in with the clan system that most vampires in the city (or world) tended to adopt, but she didn’t think that anyone could be bad enough to make you quite so wary.

And it just so happened that the next time she dared to visit your bar, you were dealing with the difficult ones.

“I told you that we don’t allow vamps for a reason,” you scowled, eyes flicking between those of the five girls who stood with their arms crossed before you. “I may not be able to control you, but I sure as hell won’t let you feed on innocents.”

Irene exchanged a glance with Joy, who was just about to step forward when another voice interrupted the conversation. “Hey. Are you giving the manager trouble?”

You glared at Byulyi as well, though there wasn’t the venom that you directed at the clan. “Rogue. You’re going against us?” Seulgi asked, head cocked to a side. “Isn’t it in your best interest too to get rid of this... human?”

Strolling forward with her hands in the pockets of her pants, Byulyi sighed. “Look, manager here is stronger than you think. And if I want to remain in her best interests, be able to come to this bar sometimes, I’ll do what she asks. Including throwing you out.”

Despite the numbers of the clan, there was no possible way any of the five could match up to Byulyi’s sheer experience. She wasn’t violent compared to some, but she could certainly hold her own in a fight. You were silent behind the bar, but the stare you directed at the clan spoke volumes.

“Fine,” Yeri rolled her eyes, lips pinching together. “Come on. Survive another day, right?”

As they filed out of the bar, Byulyi’s eyes remained on them until the door swung shut. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said with your back turned, hands scrubbing at a bottle for no reason.

“Don’t worry, it was fun,” she grinned, sliding onto the barstool. “Is this why you dislike us vamps? Not all of us are like them, you know.”

You turned just to send her a half-hearted glare. “No, that’s not why. I always- I never liked you undead things, and being immune to your powers doesn’t help anything. But hoity-toity ones like them make it worse.”

The vampire leaned her chin on her hand, watching you work. The reddish glare of the bar’s lights only made the column of your throat look more inviting, but Byulyi wasn’t reckless enough to attack someone capable of resisting her. Besides, you were an interesting one. “I see. Well, if anyone tries to mess with you again, you call me,” she jested, smiling wider when you scoffed.

“Sure.” But contrasting your cold words, you slid a bottle of soju over to her, the same flavor that she’d liked best the last time. “On the house this time. But I don’t owe you anything after this,” you warned.

“Come on, a bottle of soju isn’t enough,” Byulyi pouted, laughing when you scrunched your nose. “You owe me a favor. I’m responsible, promise, I won’t ask for your blood or anything.”

You hesitated before agreeing, but finally allowed her to shake your hand. “Fine. A favor- geez, your hands are cold.”

She stared down at the pale skin once you had jerked away, a slight warmth from your human hands lingering. “I guess. I mean, I’m dead, what do you expect?”

“Dead, huh?” You almost look sympathetic for once, pouring out some soju for the both of you. “What’s that like?”

Byulyi raised an eyebrow as she clinked her glass against yours. “Being dead? Well, I don’t remember that. But now, it’s similar to being alive. My heart still beats, if that’s what you’re wondering. That’s what makes it hard for people to realize that we aren’t human too.”

“It still beats?” you frowned, scrunching your entire face at the taste of alcohol burning the back of your throat. “I always hear differently.”

She reached out for your hand, holding on loosely when you allowed her to hold it. “Come on, feel.”

You exhaled sharply when you felt the pounding at the pulsepoint of Byulyi’s neck, leaning in closer as if that’d allow you to hear it, too. When you looked down, though, you realized the position you were in. “If anyone looked at us, they’d think I was the vampire.”

“You’re right, aren’t you?” she smiled, only tilting her head more to expose her neck to you. “You could kill me right now.”

“Aren’t you already dead?” You bent down under the counter to hide the heat in your cheeks, your fingertips icy just from a couple seconds of contact. “How would I kill you?”

The vampire shrugged, “Wooden stake works on the weaker ones. Holy water, if you had any, but that one takes a lot to kill. For us older ones, the only thing that works is a sacred bullet; hard to come by for you humans, which is why you don’t know about it.”

Frowning, you looked over from the vault of good alcohol stored under the bar. “Huh. What else is fake?”

Byulyi scrunched her nose, looking remarkably like a cute and harmless hamster in a slightly bloodstained black outfit when she did. She was almost charming when she pondered your question, tapping blunt fingernails against her chin. “The mirror thing is, my friend Yongsun spends hours staring at herself. So’s the garlic allergy. I like garlic.”

“Good to know,” you chuckled when you stood up again. “Enjoy your soju, Byulyi  .”

She ghosted her own hands over your fingerprints marring the frosted glass of the alcohol bottle, bringing the entire thing to her lips. “I will.”

Seulgi’s grip was iron tight as she pulled your head back by your hair, your wrists straining against the duct tape holding them together as your scalp screamed. “I’ll ask you again. Where is she?”

Ryujin’s eyes were nothing short of terrified over the tape clamping over her mouth, but you remained firm with your chin jutting out. “I. Don’t. Know. I don’t serve vampires, and I don’t protect them.”

Scoffing, Irene scraped a fingernail against your cheek, the skin tearing under the serrated tip. “Don’t lie. She saved you from us last time, and Byulyi doesn’t risk her rogue status for just anyone.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, or the floor of your actual bar, Wendy mused, “I wonder if she’d hear you scream. If you mean so much to her, what would she give to save you?”

You sighed, going limp just to shake your head. “I told you. Byulyi protected me out of spite against you, not because she gives a shit about me. And I won’t scream. You can kill me in peace, as soon as you--”

Crashing into Wendy, the door to the basement slammed open with a kick from the very person you claimed to not give a shit about you. Byulyi finally looked like the vampire you feared her to be from the start, dark eyes ablaze with something that quite honestly frightened you. Her dark clothing swirled around her in the dusty air, pale brown hair glinting gold as her own nails cut the bonds holding Ryujin. “Go.”

She ran as told, too fast for Yeri’s claws to grasp onto the hem of her work jacket. “So it worked,” Joy smiled, cocking the slightly rusty pistol in her hand. Sacred bullet, you remembered, struggling more against your bonds when you realized what that bullet could do to the vampire glaring daggers at her opponents. “Stupid of you.”

In a sudden burst of strength, the duct tape ripped and you surged up, feeling at least a couple locks of hair remain in Seulgi’s fist. But in that rush, you tackled the tallest girl in the room, all breath knocked out of your lungs at the impact.

Scrambling for the gun, you screamed out at the feeling of sharp points sinking into your arm, hand faltering. “Let go--”

A harsh crack sounded by your ear when Byulyi’s foot stomped down on Joy’s ribs, her fangs pulling out just as your fingers closed around the gun. You panted as you twisted, blood dripping from your arm onto your face as you pressed the stone cold barrel into the girl’s pretty face. “Stand up,” you breathed, hands shaking as she eyed you. “Stand.”

The other four in her clan circled around you; despite the fact that you had no clue whatsoever about how to handle the weapon in your hands, you hoped that the fierce expression on your face was enough to convince them. Byulyi’s hand was surprisingly gentle on your shoulder, as was the expression on her face when she smiled at you. “Well. I believe you know what the blessed bullet in this gun does, and I’m sure you know better than to fight me on this.”

Irene hissed, fangs glistening under the dim lighting of the basement, “You don’t have Yongsun with you right now. What makes you think we can’t kill you, and your pretty human girlfriend too?”

Byulyi’s lips curved up in a smile as the cocking of another gun sounded by the basement door, Ryujin’s brow furrowed as she aimed. “Unlike this one, which I bet you only loaded one bullet into, that pistol over there has 4 bullets, straight from the hands of a priest,” the vampire explained with her hands behind her back. “More than enough to kill all of you, if I don’t get to you first.”

Yeri was already tugging at the wrist of Wendy, who stared futilely at the gun still pressed into Joy’s neck. Finally, Seulgi spoke up with a wavering voice, Irene not bothering to dispute as she asked, “What do you want? Money?”

“I want you to stay away from this bar, and with it, Y/N,” Byulyi gestured, deep voice smooth as she turned to you, sending a greasy wink that you rolled your eyes at. “And I’ll be telling all the other clans about this... incident. Sound fair?”

You breathed out a shallow sigh of relief when Irene nodded tentatively. “Good. Then get out, and don’t expect the pistol back,” you warned, waving Ryujin to get out of the stairway. “I don’t ever want to see your faces again.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

Byulyi shrugged, clinking sojus with a grin on her face. She looked positively delighted, though she wasn’t the one with bite marks on her arm and a scrape on her cheekbone. “No need to. It was fun.”

“Fun?” you scoffed, downing the alcohol. “I wouldn’t call it that. But seriously, what do you want in return? That’s two favors I owe you now.”

“Is it?” she blinked. “I wasn’t keeping track.”

Looking out over the bar, you smiled at the sight of a vampire-free crowd, customers downing Ryujin’s specialty drinks as music boomed in LED speakers. “Yeah. Two favors. You better think fast, vampy.”

“There is one thing in mind.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked back over, head tilting when you realized that Byulyi wasn’t staring back like she usually did. “Yeah? What’s up?”

She cleared her throat suddenly, though you were sure that alcohol didn’t burn her like it did you. “I don’t want to use the favors for this, since I think that’d be immoral, but I... I want to be closer to you.”

Flicking your hand in the air between the two of you, you clarified, “What’s that mean? You wanna be friends? You wanna sit closer to me? Or sex--”

“No!” She held her hands out in front of her; to your satisfaction, you were sure that she’d be blushing if she was capable of it. “I may feel something for you. Not sexual, but something that I haven’t felt in a while. If I can, I’d like to use both my favors to call you my... girlfriend. Is that the term you use these days?”

“A girlfriend?” you laughed, shaking your head as you leaned forward in your chair. “That’s great and all, but you’ve barely known me for a month.”

Despite being a (not-so) human being, Byulyi visibly deflated. Without realizing it, your hand shot out and settled on her knee, thumb caressing the rough material of her jeans. “Okay. Then how about this: I will be your girlfriend. But it’ll be probational, like our alliance. As soon as you do something to piss me off, which I’m sure will be soon, I’ll decide if it’ll continue.”

She grinned, nose scrunching up as she offered you a toast. “Sounds perfect to me.”

The clink of the glass bottles was the chime of bells ringing in a new chapter, clear over the drunk energies of the night. Not wedding bells, of course- that wouldn’t happen for a good hundred more years. 

[snowflake-of-destruction]

Lovematcha, 40

exes meeting again after not speaking for years au. Vampires and the supernatural. @complicatedandstained 's musings about Kojiro being the most fun in a world where vampires exist.

The Italian restaurant seemed a particular act of pettiness with the smell of garlic hanging so heavy in the air you could catch a whiff of it every time the door opened--at least to a particularly refined nose. That was before Ainosuke learned about the half-naked tanning, the very embodiment of obnoxious spite.

The last time Ainosuke had seen Kojiro, he'd been lifting the empty body that used to be Kaoru from the ritual alter, claiming Ainosuke had paid too high a price for a cure, calling him selfish. He hadn't even raised his voice but all the candles in the sanctum had blown out all the same, leaving them in darkness that reflected the two hearts that hadn't beat in centuries (Just pretended to beat again for awhile, to still feel. Such a silly thing in retrospect).

"It wasn't for me." The demon Ainosuke had summoned had insisted the only fair trade was a single sacrifice meaning a single vampire cured. Ainosuke had promised that one day he'd give his mate and sire back the sun he missed so dearly and still remembered though empires rose and fell while they stayed underground. That wasn't the explanation he gave. He made it easy. "What interest would I have in being a fragile human once more? In being tethered by their rules and living such a short, insignificant life? The very idea bores me. Like our little Cherry Blossom was starting to. Like you..." He had felt as hollow through and through as his fangs in that moment, forging ahead even after his voice wavered. "I simply sought to take care of all my problems at once."

Kojiro had seen through him. Ainosuke had assumed so at least. He always had a knack for it at the worst times before. Red eyes peered into Ainosuke's soul, and there were no secrets he could hide. He felt cold fingers grip his chest, blunt nails digging harder and harder still until pressure turned to pain, which gave way to skin and muscle slowly giving in. The bones followed, ribcage slowly pried open to show emptiness, black ichor, and a shriveled seed of a once human organ at its core that kept the whole system running inside his lying shell kept alive by dark magic and stolen blood. That was the way Kojiro's gaze had always felt to him, and, deep down, Ainosuke had long suspected that one day this prizing apart would be literal, and he'd die by Kojiro's hand. He'd ask for Kojiro to crush his heart in his fist rather than subject it to the stake. If he ever had to choose, it would be the death he wanted.

That wasn't the day Kojiro was to kill him though. Kojiro hadn't even called out his obvious bullshit. He'd just walked past him, brushing close enough all Ainosuke could smell was the scent of life on him (live blood in his veins, thrumming with oxygen, the start of sweat seeping out of his pores) collected the dead thing that resembled Kaoru in his arms, and walked out.

Ainosuke had waited until the faltering footsteps of Kojiro adjusting to his change in strength as he carried the corpse of the sacrifice through the tunnels had long faded even to his ears before following his path through the tunnels and up to the surface, coming out of the cellar below the home they’d shared, still holding back, taking slow steps instead of giving in to the urge to rush to his side. He’d sent one of their familiars, Tadashi, to track him instead, make sure he at least survived to see the first sunrise of his second life--to see what became of the corpse as well, since Kojiro had insisted on just carrying it around where it would not be easily understood by any polite human society he might encounter once he got beyond the borders of the estate. After that, there were to be no more updates.

Years had passed since then. Not that many in the grand scope of Ainosuke’s life, though loneliness turned the blink of an eye into an eternity.

Kojiro had changed since then: grown his hair, put on muscle.

The changes in Kaoru were far more drastic though, considering he was supposed to be long rotted in the ground instead of laughing behind the cover of a fan, color high on his cheeks--flushed, alive--as he exited Kojiro’s tacky little fuck-you-with-cloves-of-garlic eatery with the man himself at his side, snaking a protective arm around his waist.

Ainosuke reflected that it was nice to know he hadn’t yet lived long enough that he couldn’t be surprised.

[prettyguardiankore-blog]

Love in Literacy, chapter 6 (Levi x fem!reader)

Don't drink, kids.

Hazy morning light poured in through your window. You blinked, and slowly began to open your eyes, but immediately snapped them back shut. A sharp pain ran through your head. Fuck. Your head was throbbing, and there was an empty nausea in your stomach. You could hurl. You groaned, and pulled your blanket back up over your head, enveloping yourself in the warm darkness, and curling into a fetal position. You’d gotten wasted again. Unbeknownst to anyone else, this was something that happened about once a month. You’d never cared for alcohol as a Scout, but after your accident, it was just something that had happened. And you’d let it. You weren’t proud of it, but it felt like the only way you could simply sit in your emotions, the self-restraint you had when sober was difficult to overcome. Hange had caught you once, drunkenly stumbling back into the castle, bruised up from some bar fight you’d gotten yourself into...they’d been pretty pissed, understandably so. It was one of the few times you’d seen them truly angry with you. If they found out that this was something of a routine for you, they'd have your head on a stake.

You rubbed your eyes and furrowed yourself deeper into your cozy sheets. What happened yesterday? You knit your brow, desperately trying to call upon the events of the previous night.

Okay first, I snuck out to the bar, some old pub near the canal, got that...next, I had a couple of drinks... It wasn’t enough to get me very drunk though...sat around...then someone started talking to me, that new barmaid they’d hired. She was pretty... blonde hair, pale green eyes. She was being really flirty too. I kept talking with her as I drank, and that's when I started feeling tipsy. Then she went on break… and then...

Your eyes flicked open. You’d definitely gotten intimate with her after that. Had you slept with her? You smacked your head in disbelief. No, no, you would’ve remembered, no matter how drunk you were. You’d come pretty close though. You rubbed your temples worriedly. You remembered how she'd softly sucked on the skin of your neck, as you fiddled with the laces of her corset, your free hand trailing up her leg, her soft breath in your ear… What’s wrong with me? You felt heat pouring into your face as the memories returned to you. But something had stopped you from going any further with her.

She wasn’t Marla.

You rolled onto your back, and stared up at the ceiling. You let out a dark chuckle, as you brought your hands up to cover your eyes. You really were a scumbag. Was that your feeble attempt at some sort of replacement for what you could’ve had with her? You didn’t want to think so, but plenty of other people had flirted with you while you were out, why did you never pursue any of them? Why is it the one time you gave into desire, it happened to be someone who resembled your dead best friend? You’d been able to stop yourself, but that was the bare minimum. At the very most, you weren’t a total piece of shit. You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to delve into the topic too deeply at that moment, so you continued with your recollection of the night. What happened after that?

Well. that was about as far as I got with her. After I had my moment of self realization, I started coming up with excuses to leave. She was pretty mad... I can't blame her. After that I went back into the tavern and had a few more shots… that's when I got really wasted. I decided it was time to get back to the castle. I walked back, it started to rain a bit...then I’d made it back...then I saw Levi.

…

Levi?

Your eyes snapped open and you shot up from your position on the bed, You were now sitting upright, eyes wild. You quietly swallowed. Instantaneously, the rest of the night came flooding back to you. Everything, from the way you’d spoken to him, to the way he’d practically had to drag you back to your room… you froze. And your eyes darted to the filthy chaos that you called your room. He'd seen your room.

“You smell really good. ”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You said that to him. That was something you said. To him. With your mouth. To his face. You plopped back onto your bed. Slowly, you reached a trembling hand over to your pillow, and shoved your face deeply into it, letting out a shriek of embarrassment and frustration. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. How could you have said that? He probably thought you were a total creep now, and could you blame him? If someone you hardly knew said that to you, you’d submit for a restraining order. After you were done screaming, you gingerly placed your pillow back on the bed, and stood up.

You were supposed to see him later today for lessons, but you absolutely couldn’t. You began pacing back and forth at the foot of your bed. You would apologize to him profusely tomorrow, but you needed at least a day of mental recuperation before you could even consider facing him. Immediately, your mind began racing through the varying excuses you could use to weasel your way out of it. Pretend to be sick? Say you had a meeting with Erwin? Say you were just too tired? Alternatively, you could just not show up at all, did you really owe him an explanation? Yes. You gnawed at your bottom lip pensively. Well, you would need to think about that later. Right now, you really needed to puke.

👁Frantically, you hopped around your obstacle course of a floor and to the bathroom. You slammed the door open, dropped to your knees, hunched over the toilet bowl, and retched. After you were done, you took a deep breath. Another decision you immediately regretted, you gagged at the rancid scent of your own vomit. It was enough to make you puke again, which you easily did. Once it was really all out, you collapsed back down onto the cool tile floor. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back. Your head was still pulsing. Why do I do this to myself...? You thought, dejectedly. When you couldn’t come up with a real answer, you decided you might as well take some time to get ready. You needed to do something to distract yourself. You pulled yourself up from the floor, and leaned down to flush the toilet. You mindlessly watched as what you had spewed spiraled down into the pipes. 👁 You sighed, relieved to be rid of the mess, and turned back to the mirror to get a good look at yourself. It was certainly a sight to behold. Sullen eyes, with harrowing eye bags underneath to compliment them. Your cheeks were puffy, it was something that happened when you drank. You reached up to gently massage the centers of your cheeks, a feeble attempt to relieve the inflammation. Your hair stuck up in every other direction, and you still had some drool dripping down your chin. How lovely, you thought, wiping it away with the back of your hand.

You decided a shower would serve you well. You began stripping away your clothes, the same black corset and cream white dress you’d been wearing at the bar the night before. Once you were undressed, you turned the shower faucet on. You crossed your arms over your chest, lightly hopping back and forth from your two feet as you waited for the water to heat up. You cautiously poked a finger in, for a feel of the temperature. Satisfied, you stepped in, letting out a blissful sigh as the warm water trickled down your body. So what’s my day plan? You mused, grabbing the soap bar, and beginning to hastily scrub at every inch of your body. You wanted to avoid Levi at all costs, so what did that mean for you? You could probably stay holed up in the library. Unless he actively sought you out, which you highly doubted he would, you wouldn’t face any issue. You began rinsing off your body, and moved on to your hair. You poured hair wash into your palm, and began massaging it into your scalp and roots. That sounds good, and even if I see him there, I'll just pretend I didn’t notice him walking in and sneak out through the back room. You began rinsing yourself off, and gave yourself a hard nod, a weak attempt to give yourself some self assurance in your shotty plan. After you finished rinsing yourself off, you shut the water off, and reached a hand out of the shower, groping around for the towel you'd placed on the toilet. You wrung out your hair, wrapped yourself in your towel, and stepped out.

You pushed open the door, releasing the built up steam that had collected in the small room, and headed to your drawer for your underwear. After you got them on, you headed over to your closet, and picked a nicer outfit than you normally might. When you felt shitty mentally, you tried to present yourself in the best way possible physically. You picked out a frilly, intricately stitched, cream colored top. It was a bit itchy, but you could bear with it for the day. Your eyes glazed over the various skirts you had hung up, and you settled on a ruffled red skirt with gold accents. After you were dressed, you moved back to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth, hair, and put on some makeup. Just a bit of lip tint, mascara, and blush. You observed yourself in your mirror. You actually looked good. You revelled in your beauty for longer than you usually might, doing a couple spins for the mirror. You gave your reflection an awkward smile. You were starting to feel a little better, the feeling of hopelessness was beginning to dwindle. I can do this. You took a deep breath, snatched your glasses from your desk, and left the room.

📷 📷

Sometimes, you liked to go to the kitchen and sneak some tea out, just as a small way to treat yourself. So that was exactly what you were gonna do. Did you deserve tea? Debatable, but maybe it would help your head. You walked through the halls of the castle, until you eventually found yourself at the kitchen door. You slowly opened it, and cautiously poked your head in, looking around the small room. It was empty, which was to be expected, meal preparation for the Scouts happened the night before, and the chefs usually didn’t return until later in the afternoon.

You stepped in, and began preparing your tea. You opened the cupboard, faced with the same question that plagued you every time you did. Green or Black....today is a Green day. You hummed in agreement with yourself and pulled out the can, and placed the bag in your cup. You took a few laps around the room as you waited for the water in the kettle to come to a boil, then carefully poured it into the mug. Hot steam bellowed from it, fogging your glasses. You wiped your glasses off and left it to steep, You leaned against the counter while you waited, thinking about your next move. You’d realized that there was a minor risk of going to the library, although it was unlikely, if Furlan and Isabel visited you in there, there was a small chance Levi would accompany them. A small, but very real chance that you didn’t want to take. So you decided you'd go to the castle garden and enjoy your tea there. You glanced over to your cup. It'd been less than a minute since it had begun to steep. Green tea should sit for three minutes...if you sprinted to the library to grab a book, and sprinted back, you should make it back just in time to pull the bag from the cup before it became bitter. With that, you bolted out of the room and began your mad dash to the library.

Thankfully, the halls were empty, so you didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of someone seeing you huffing and puffing as you made your way through the castle. When you arrived at the library's large wooden doors, you pushed them open, with a small grunt, and ran over to your desk. Your eyes frantically flicked back and forth over its messy contents, until they landed on what you were looking for. Ah, here it is. 'The Gentleman's Nursery'. You'd been wanting to reread the story for a while. The last time you'd tried, you'd quickly gotten interrupted. You snatched it off the desk and began heading back to leave. You opened the doors and did a check of both ends of the hall. When you turned your head to the left, you saw something that opened a pit in your stomach. Seriously? It was Levi. He stood at the entrance to the hall, hand still on the door, with that same indifferent look he usually wore. You stared at him with a dumb expression on your face, chest heaving up and down. Your mind was racing. What were the chances of this happening? Unless the Scout's schedule had drastically changed since you were discharged, he should’ve still been doing his morning warm-ups. You'd thought this through over and over again, the last thing you’d expected of him was to show up by himself. He took one step towards you. Without thinking, you immediately dashed over to the opposite door, leaving him behind you. I'm not running from him, I just need to get back to my tea before it gets bitter, you assured yourself, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You shot him a quick look over your shoulder as you arrived at the door. Fuck. He hadn't moved, but now he looked annoyed. Actually, that was cutting him short, he looked pissed. Straight up pissed. You swallowed, still panting. Maybe a small explanation would alleviate the situation. Unfortunately, with how tired you were, and the fact that your brain was working at a mile a minute, the explanation you got out was less than ideal.

"Green tea gets bitter fast!" You blurted back, as you began shutting the doors behind you. As you did, you snuck one last look at his face. Still angry, but now with a hint of confusion in his expression.

You grimaced, but continued your sprint through the long hall, mentally kicking yourself for the shotty ‘explanation’ you’d provided. Soon enough, you‘d made it back to the kitchen. You entered, and slumped back against the door, finally catching your breath. After you were done, you hurried over to the table, and carefully pulled the dripping tea bag from your cup, and tossed it in the trash, and took a sip. Still good. But the relief you got from that fact was short lived. You sighed. You set the tea down and held your head in your hands dropping yourself onto the stone floor. The consequences of your actions were beginning to take form in your mind. If you were speaking in terms of a scale from one to ten, the situation before was a seven. It was absolutely humiliating what happened the night before… but it happened. At the most, he thought less of you. You didn’t like the idea of it, but it’s not like you two were amazingly close to begin with, so you could handle it in the long run, and you still had your pride. But now, it was a ten. Not only he had to drag you home, drunk, in the dead of the night, and power through your drunken rambling, but now, the following morning, instead of thanking him, you’d run away from him, like a child. You groaned. My tea could’ve waited, you thought glumly, as you furrowed your head into your arms. How was it that every time, without fail, you managed to dig yourself into an even deeper hole than before? You had to fix this somehow, the original plan of just avoiding him all day wouldn’t do anymore. You had to reach out and properly apologize, and preferably soon, before it became an irreparable mistake. You reached into your pocket, and pulled out your stopwatch. It read nine nineteen.

The Scouts training would end around six, then they’d head back to their barracks for the night. You’d go out and find him then. You reached up to massage your temples. I can fix this. You found reassurance in the fact that you’d formulated a plan again. And even if he was still upset with you after, it would be out of your hands, and that would be okay. Although, the nagging feeling in your chest when you thought of it as an outcome made you queasy. Perhaps you were fonder of him than you’d thought. You took a deep breath, and hoisted yourself up from the floor. You had nine hours until you were to apologize to Levi, so you might as well continue with your initial plan. You picked up your tea from the table, and began the walk to the garden.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After the hectic morning, this was exactly what you needed. It had warmed up substantially from the morning, and the once dreary sky was replaced by a piercing blue one. Your eyes lazily followed the slow movement of the clouds. They looked like the innards of a freshly baked loaf of bread, spilling out of it’s cracking crust. Fluffy...Those are...Cumulus clouds, you concluded. There was a light breeze, carrying the scent of moist dirt from the downpour the night previous. You pulled out your blue ribbon bookmark, placed it on your page, and closed the book gently.

📷

You’d been here for several hours now. You pulled out your stopwatch again, it read twelve o three. You plopped into the soft grass, closing your eyes, to bask in the warm afternoon sun. You began to lift your knee up, but as you began to move it, a sharp pain ran up your inner thigh, and you let out a small yelp of pain. You grimaced. Had you pulled a muscle? All the running from earlier had made you more sore than you’d expected. It was time to face a fact that you’d been ignoring, you were getting weak. It made sense, the shift from vigorous training everyday, to the stagnant life of a librarian, it would have been outrageous to expect otherwise, but you hadn’t wanted to admit it. You chewed your lip. Should I start training again? You pondered, as you adjusted your dress underneath you. It couldn’t hurt to start running in the mornings, and you could pick up weight training again. You frowned. You’d probably have to fix your appalling sleep schedule as well… actually, that would probably have to be the first step if you wanted to achieve anything. It would be a lot of work, but yesterday was a wake-up call for you. You’d nearly done something that you would’ve regretted for a long time. Guilt, loneliness, uselessness... whenever you fell into any of those slumps, you turned to the bottle for the night. The instances where this was happening were only becoming more and more common in these past months. You were destroying yourself, and eventually you’d make a mistake you couldn’t take back. It was the fate of a drunkard.

You pushed your hands against the grass and sat yourself upright, taking a deep breath. Well, now what? You’d now established that you wanted a change, but how were you supposed to initiate the change? It was more than just a drinking problem, it was a coping mechanism that you’d slowly ingrained into yourself for the past year. You sighed. You needed to talk to someone, someone that could hold you accountable, someone who you could reach out to before you fell into the cycle again. Seeing as you only had a total of two close friends, one of which had a bit of a drinking problem himself, that left you with one option, Hange. You groaned. This was a conclusion you’d reached a long time ago, but you'd really wanted to avoid it. They’re going to give me hell. You slumped back down into the grass, shutting your eyes. You could talk to them later tonight, they had been planning on visiting you in the library anyway. You frowned. Apologize to Levi, confide in Hange… what a loaded day you had ahead of you. As someone who was more introverted, it sounded like your own personal hell. Just thinking about it made you tired. Maybe I should take a small nap, you thought, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn, as you brought your hands up to your eyes to block the sun’s light. Your eyelids started to feel heavy, so you began to indulge yourself in some rest. Of course, as soon as you did, you felt someone nudge on your shoulder. God damn it. You groaned and pulled yourself back up, with an irked expression on your face. You snapped your head back to face who had interrupted you.

“What.” You asked, with more bite than intended.

There stood Furlan, towering awkwardly over you. He looked a little taken aback by your sharp tone. A twinge of guilt popped in your chest.

“Sorry, If this is a bad time-” He began.

“No, no! Please, it’s fine, I was just tired...didn’t sleep much last night.” You explained, “Please, you don’t have to leave.” You insisted. He gave you a grateful smile.

“Don’t mind if I do then!” he said cheekily, plopping himself next to you on the ground, still keeping a respectful distance.

"So what are you doing out here, shouldn't you be in the dining hall now?"

"Ah, yeah I should be..." he chuckled, rubbing his neck, "But my stomach wasn't feeling the best, so I just grabbed a loaf of bread and decided to take a walk."

"Maybe you should go back and eat. You say that now but you might need the energy later, you have a long day ahead of you." You warned, but he just shook his head.

"Naw, besides Levi's in a touchy mood right now, don't really want to be near him." He said with a small laugh. You froze. Furlan noticed the disgruntled look on your face.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, cocking his head.

"Ah, it's nothing," You said, pursing your lips, "But what were you saying about Levi? Do you know why he seems upset?" You asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

"I dunno, Commander Shadis sent him to Erwin's office for some formation practice papers, and when he came back he was in a sour mood, wouldn't tell me or Isabel why."

"I see." You said, quietly. I really need to talk to him. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you, neither of you knew what to say to the other, so the two of you just sat there, looking up to the clouds. Eventually, he tapped your shoulder again, and you turned your focus back to his lips.

"What are you reading?" He asked, pointing a finger to the book next to you. You perked back up.

"Ah, this is called the 'Gentleman's Nursery'" You replied, picking it up and placing it on your lap, "It's a romance novel I read as a teenager...I really love it, it's one of my favorites, so I decided to read it again."

Furlan observed you intently as you spoke. A small heat trickled onto your face as your eyes met back up to meet his gaze. He has nice eyes. For the first time since meeting him, you actually observed them closely. They were very defined, slightly downturned at the ends. It gave them a tired look. The color was a popping hazel, with dark brown specks here and there. Your eyes quickly returned down to his lips as you realized he was preparing to speak.

"Do you like romance?"

You blinked, unsure of what he meant with his question.

"...Huh?"

"A-ah, I meant the romance genre." He explained quietly, averting his gaze. He looked a little red. Of course he did. You scolded yourself mentally for interpreting it any other way

"Oh, well it's not my favorite genre, but this one's just so well written, I can't help but reread it over and over again..." You said, as you fiddled with the blades of grass under your hand, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever enjoyed a romance novel?"

"Oh, not really, I've always liked mystery, horror, that type of thing."

You hummed in response. Another silence fell between the two of you.

"Can I borrow that book?" He blurted out, pointing at the book on your lap. You looked at him questioningly.

"Really? Do you think you'd be interested in this sort of thing?"

"Well, if you say it's good, that's gotta mean something, right? I admit it's not my style but..." He turned his head the opposite way as he got out the rest of his sentence. You couldn't see what he said.

"...But? I couldn't see what you said." You told him, arching a brow.

"Ah, sorry." He murmured, quickly turning back to face you, "... Well, it'll give us something to talk about, so I'll read it." he responded, bluntly. His face was now a stunning vermilion, and you couldn't help but reciprocate a flushed feeling in your cheeks as he looked at you. Such earnest eyes. You turned your gaze down to your feet, which had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world to you in that moment. You didn't say anything for a bit, but you were brimming with excitement at the idea of having a reading buddy.

"O-oh, well of course you can borrow it, if you want...It'll be nice to finally have someone to talk to about it." You said with a small chuckle, as you handed the book to him, which he accepted with a small bow. You pulled out your watch, and you blinked in surprise. Twelve thirty-three.

"Furlan you need to get going! Lunch ended three minutes ago!" you exclaimed, voice jumping up an octave. His eyes widened, and he instantly shot up from the grass and began a dash back to the training fields. He didn't get very far before he turned back to face you. He shouted something, but the distance between the two of you was too wide. You motioned towards your ears in oblivion and gave him an exaggerated shrug. You snickered as you saw him smack himself in the forehead at his mistake, before jogging back up to you.

"We'll talk more after the expedition tomorrow!" He beamed, before turning back and continuing his sprint to the field.

You stared at him with a blank look as he ran off into the distance. That dreaded sense of familiarity overcame you. The similarity between what he just said and Marla's last promise was too glaring to ignore, no matter how hard you tried. A part of you wanted to chase after him, and pull him back to sit next to you again, so the two of you could keep talking about books. But you didn't. You decided to put your faith in him, despite every bone in your body screaming at you to do otherwise. You remembered the day you'd told them about your last expedition.

We won't die out there.

He'd stated this as a fact, and you found yourself replaying his words in your head over and over again for comfort until eventually, you found yourself genuinely believing in it. Levi, Isabel, and Furlan were all very skilled soldiers, that's what Hange always told you, and they had no reason to lie to you. That, in combination with the new Scouting formation, made the likelihood of something happening pretty low. You sighed, releasing the tension that had unwittingly built up in your chest. Look at you, thinking about him as if he were already dead, you thought, rubbing your eyes. You smiled to yourself, gazing up at the fluffy clouds. You looked forward to finally having someone to talk to about books.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[ryttu3k]

Night Road quote text dump, because I've been deluging a friend with quotes and want a place to keep them all.

We're a bit like that, yeah:

They direct you to a hulking Malkavian named Severian, and the sullen giant directs you in turn to Gibberish Mike.

Fortunately, it turns out that "Gibberish" Mike is just Australian.

Practical concerns:

"That's it!" Elena says, leaning over your shoulder. "That's his yacht. Oh, and this is all about him. Very useful." She snaps a picture of the email with her phone, then the two of you get out of there before the technician returns. You head down the elevator and then back to Elena's Datsun.

You're so pleased by how well that went that that it takes you a few minutes to remember you're in Arizona.

"His yacht?" you finally ask.

Fun with bungalow ownership:

After a day of fitful dreams, you throw on your leather jacket and engineer boots and get ready for another night. You step outside to check your Integra. A neighbor parks next door in her Ford Super Duty and gives you a friendly little wave. You've been practicing this. You're ready.

"Howdy, neighbor."

"Howdy!" she responds before heading inside.

Fucking nailed it. You're one of them.

This is legitimately how I got the Messy Critical achievement:

You grab a hoe.

You rip through the underbrush with savage efficiency, staying a few steps ahead of the pushcart as Julian scans. You work in a trance, chopping and hammering. Only when you hear Julian shouting do you realize that you're holding a busted length of wood.

The head of your hoe is buried in the beautiful round black door of Prince Lettow's Rolls-Royce.

Raúlblocked:

You head to Raúl's place, but he's not there. You find a note hidden above the door that reads, "Problems in Phoenix. (Jesus Christ has returned? Stole a car?) Contact me right away for major jobs and I'll come back. Already missing you." And there's a ProtonMail address with some of the security contact codes you agreed upon earlier.

But it looks like Raúl will be occupied dealing with the Lord and His automotive crimes, and he won't be able to wander around Tucson with you.

Pattermuster doesn't get paid enough:

"Hello? What? Well, the blood can't be 'everywhere.' Surely that's an exagger—okay—okay, fine. Okay. Okay, I'll get—okay. Five minutes. What? No, Sissy Spacek. No, Sissy—you're thinking of Rosemary's Baby. No, Carrie had the prom scene. With all the pig's—yes, it was Sissy Spacek, I'm sure. That much blood? Jesus. Okay, hold—five—okay, five minutes."

Valid question:

Do they teach ax fighting at Quantico?

Julian Meyer:

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"

"That never happened, Julian. You made up our relationship and tried to sell it as a novel until the old Prince of Tucson threatened to execute you." '

"Vampire romance was big at the time," Julian says with a shrug. "And I changed our names. I still don't know why no one wanted to buy it."

Dammit I thought I was done with uni:

"Awful," Dr. Caul says with a little shudder. "But now your real studies can begin."

Your real studies consist of a syllabus (thirty pages) and a trunk full of books (35,000 pages).

"Are you disappointed, Rook?" she says with a little laugh. "Were you expecting something more mystical? A bolt of cosmic enlightenment? A conversation with your Holy Guardian Angel, who would reveal the answers you seek?" She bangs the trunk as technicians get ready to load it into your car. "Get reading."

An enthusiastic boss:

You reunite with Pattermuster down in the morgue, where he's pumping his fists as a thin-blood on a gaming laptop watches with a worried expression because she can't tell if he's incredibly happy or insanely mad.

"Rook!" Pattermuster shouts, his eyes full of Blood, "you did it! You brilliant child, you did it! We're safe. Oh, thank God, we're safe." He pulls you into an embrace, then punches a brick wall because he's so happy, showering all three of you in dust.

I thought that was Finland?:

You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.

"Camp Scheffler?"

"Gone. That Outlander courier had something to do with it."

"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."

Pot, kettle:

"Julian," the Eagle Prince says, "you will locate Reremouse with the equipment Vane brought. Once we find him, we will strike shortly before dawn. I have prepared a stake sufficient to pierce even his old hide."

"That easy, huh?" Julian says.

"No, but—"

"Your plan is ridiculous, convoluted, and dangerous," Julian says.

"And you have a better one?"

"Absolutely," Julian says. "We use Stonehenge to teleport him to Mesopotamia."

The must-have appliance:

He's a black outline in the glow of a single yellow bulb... and then the bats descend.

And then the bats get torn to pieces, because Pattermuster pulls his two katanas out of nothing and turns into an undead Cuisinart for a few seconds.

But aesthetic:

Leave it to a vampire to bring a sword to a gunfight.

It is pretty cool though:

"Oh my God," Julian says. "You're going to use the car engine to fling Prometheus into Reremouse's heart."

"Dammit, Julian, I am not doing this because it's fun. I am scrambling for every advantage I can because we only have one chance to stop Reremouse, and if we fail, the Second Inquisition will descend on us like wolves on a wounded deer."

"It's still cool," Julian mutters.

A e s t h e t i c:

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part?

#JustToreadorThings:

You sleep badly and awaken to an aching and acute Hunger that crowds out other thoughts. But when you approach the Rolls-Royce, you find Lettow and Julian seated on a blanket, evidently in fine spirits. They're holding stainless steel mugs as they watch the last purple streaks fade from the western sky. There's something perfect about the composition before you: the two Kindred in their working clothes with their backs to you, the blue-black clouds, the faraway mesas framing the scene.

"I fear we've lost the Aesthete," Lettow muses. "Luka? Luka!"

It's just good sense:

A lot of keypads use 0911 as an emergency override for police and fire. That doesn't work, but a common default password causes the elevator doors to slide right open.

Change your defaults, people.

They draw the line at 31%:

Not all problems can be solved by putting a brick through a window, but at least 30 percent can.

Descriptive:

That's when your Nissan makes a sound like a bunch of typewriter keys dropped in a blender, and the whole truck lurches to a halt.

Munch munch:

"There are tags attached to all the payroll numbers," you say. "FNMA. PFC. What are they?"

"FNMA?" Antonio says. "That's Fannie Mae. The loan commission. Privatized in 1968. PFC…"

"Pavlodar Fried Chicken," Janet says. "Damn Commies."

Courier what did you do:

When you try to start your Mercedes, it vomits black smoke. That's not good. You kill the engine.

"Pop the hood," Julian says. "I'll get it up and running."

He checks the motor. There's a long pause.

"Did you melt a bunch of cheese in here or something, Vane?"

“I remember crawling out of a Nieuport 20 outside Gibraltar," Prince Lettow says. "The engine looked like that. Of course, ours had been on fire."

"Engine looks like Vane fed a bunch of sardine cans into a paper shredder," Julian says.

Almost!:

So Lettow is cute. I'm going to talk to him and see if he might be interested in a handsome young courier who almost has his own car.

Scientist life:

A beaker of cold coffee on her desk has a pencil in it; she flicks the pencil away and drains the entire beaker, then looks you in the eyes.

Domesticity:

"Wow, Vane," the Banu Haqim says, "did you finally settle down. Where's the wife and kids? Why don't you get me a beer, and we can talk about football and quote some Bible verses at each other?"

I really want to know where the fake werewolf came in:

"...so the whole fucking Cadillac is on fire, and I'm kicking and kicking, trying to get the window to break!" Dove says.

"Right, right, because —" You're trying to follow this story, and it isn't easy.

"Because I'm still handcuffed to the guy who was pretending to be a werewolf, right. And I finally kick through the window, rip half the dead fake werewolf's arm off to get free — I'm out of my fucking mind now, with all the fire — and I finally crawl out of the car."

"And get clear before it — do they blow up?"

"Escalades? I dunno, probably not," Dove says. "But anyway, I'm finally clear, so I run across the parking lot, laughing because I'm just thrilled not to have met final death chained up to that guy. And I barely have time to look up before Lettow comes screaming around the corner in a Ford Bronco with the lights off and runs me over. I was in the wrong Cadillac the whole time."

"No!"

"Two black Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot of the Marriott," Dove says. "How was I supposed to know which one — anyway, that's why I don't get to drive anymore. That's why Lettow wants assholes like you driving."

"Driving what?" you ask. "Because I need a car."

Dove shakes her ugly head. "I'll get you something. Give me a few hours to work on it, and I'll send someone to find you."

Cars are everything:

You still don't know how Julian plans to go from "divert a few funds and data streams from the Camarilla" to "transform the global information panopticon in a way that ends the Masquerade but keeps vampires safe," but he has a nicer car than last time, so he must be doing something right.

Guys please be nice to Raul:

"There appears to be a vampire hunter outside," he says, "investigating your electric vehicle."

"Send your bird to peck his eyes out," Julian says. "I'm not going outside until I find my sneakers."

Cheese?:

Over the next few minutes, you cough up a glorious wad of bullshit involving MKUltra, the Philadelphia Experiment, Star Wars (the movie), Star Wars (the Reagan-era government program), Jackson Pollack's CIA connections, the history of federal cheese, and the secret mastermind behind the seventies gas crunch.

In fairness it's a pretty rare sound:

You're way up in Limberlost, near the mall and the Walmart, when Riga settles on the roof of a Safeway. You reverse into the parking lot in case you need to get out fast and scan the cars at the pumps. It looks quiet. Then you hear a faint ringing.

The sound is musical, hypnotic. It reminds you of your childhood, and for a long time you just sit there in the driver's seat, remembering what it was like to be alive. But what is that sound? What memory from…?

Oh, right.

The pay phone next to the ice merchandiser is ringing.

It's a skill!:

Not every member of Clan Toreador joins their august ranks because of their great beauty or artistic genius. Some people end up vampires because of their extensive knowledge of Adobe After Effects.

Big Pirates of the Caribbean energy:

"I'd kind of like to give Lettow here a horse and a sword and let him tear through an entire police barracks," Julian says. "Tell me that wouldn't be fun."

"One thing I learned from Napoleon," Lettow says, "is that the most powerful cannon is useless if you cannot see your target. We know the location of one small encampment. That isn't enough to start shooting."

"You knew Napoleon?" Julian asks.

"Napoleon was my horse," Lettow says.

[a-lil-perspective]

Remember Me/Holding On (For Dear Life)

A/N: When I tell you I wept... I wept while creating this chapter. Here’s a bit different than what I normally write. Brother time. Verd’ika/Reader is not featured in this tidbit below. As much as this is her storyline post Order: 66, this is also very much the Bad Batch’s, and I’m alternating. I’m so happy to be bringing Echo into the mix, but this is incredibly sad. This chapter/scene is set less than three months after TCW episode ‘Victory and Death’... I’m sure you can guess where we’re going with that here. [Warnings: Angst, Mourning] @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @obiorbenkenobi @kriffingunlucky @karpasia @halzore @mangoberry43 @fxndxmxnxce @everyonehasanindividuality (Tag List is open:))

Chapter 2

Post-Imperial Proclamation

PIP Rotation Number: 79

Destination: Planet of Unknown Origins

Documentation: Scouting for Relics. Will update with any pertinence.

—Signed by Mar-4

~***~

“Well... at least the atmosphere is breathable,” Tech optimistically supplied as a small bank of snow catches in the winds from the Northeast and sprays the engineer in the face.

“Sure, but that wind is something else,” Wrecker mumbled, involuntarily shivering from a particular gust. Even the largest member with the toughest resilience to natural elements is rapidly discovering that his shield of plastoid is no match for the chilled temperatures.

“This planet seems to be nothing but a wasteland... but sometimes, not everything is what it seems,” Hunter wisely mused, keeping a few paces ahead of his crew. While the Sergeant was thankful for the stagnant and largely desolate atmosphere demonstrating hospitality to his heightened senses thus far, Hunter couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something out there was amiss.

“Hey Cross, anything yet?”

“Negative, Sarge,” the sniper briskly informed before quietly retreating back to his task of visual scanning via HUD.

“Echo, are you absolutely certain this is where those supposed Republic relics are? I’m still not picking up anything on my own scanners—”

“We’re definitely in the right place, Tech,” Hunter assured. His face scrunched and brows fused together in fervent concentration. He took a long whiff of the atmosphere, and stray icy specks slithered underneath the Sergeant’s helmet, swirling in his nostrils whenever he inhaled. Hunter’s senses become further rapt the closer the proximity. Therein, a wide range of sensations Hunter could make out in the immediacy: the scent of weathered but mixed alloys, and wet snow blanketing them. Occasional sparks from decrepit tech still spouting some juice. Weak pulses—of engineering components, that is. Definitive proof of remains; hopefully Republic. Hunter takes another measured breath and hones in further.

It was nothing of technological frequencies coursing through his veins this time. Instead: a distinct scent that assaulted the perceptive Sergeant. A scent too distinct and too familiar in a time of waxing chaos.

The smell of death.

“Markers. Markers in the distance. About two klicks out, directly ahead,” Crosshair suddenly informed, a sense of urgency coating his estimations.

“What kind of markers?” Hunter didn’t appreciate the way his tone failed to match his usual semblance of composure.

“Can’t tell. But they seem makeshift. All clustered together,” Crosshair supplies.

Like grave markers.

“That sounds really deliberate,” Wrecker muses aloud. “You think it’s a sign of some kind?”

“Only one way to find out,” Hunter murmured.

~~///\\\///\\\///\\\~~

Only one way to find out.

Echo wishes he never would have.

But it’s better he did.

Closure.

Yet painfully open-ended.

It’s cold.

Echo is hot.

The tears that flow down his face, streaming underneath his helmet, are hot.

Yet Echo is as numb as his cheeks, barely stinging from the cold.

Names to faces. Facing each name. Empty helmets, not one the same. Lifeless eyes through tinted black. Buckets staked, just want them back. Acknowledging then, blue and white. Honorable men, once shining lights.

Brothers.

A graveyard of brothers.

Brothers of the Five-Oh-First.

Oh, Fives.

Jesse stares directly at Echo, devoid of any emotion. The latter falls to his knees in front of, begging for forgiveness, and requesting that Fives’ sacrifice be enough. The raw snow molding beneath his cybernetic knee caps is the only thing that cushions and supports the man; a broken shell of someone he once was. A broken shell; a denotation tragically befitting when situated alongside shrapnel of a Republic Cruiser. Littered about, it menacingly encircles the man. The Cruiser becomes a crude background accessory. Everything is broken, cracked, shattered, lifeless... including the bodies bunkering six feet underneath.

Jesse is not here. Rex and Cody are not here. Fives, Hevy, Droidbait, Cutup—the Dominos are not here. Names flash rapidly behind Echo’s eyes, countless brothers all secured in Death’s cold embrace. He was too late. Too late to save them.

Oh, brother.

I hope I’ll see you in another.

You’ve been gone for more than a few.

But know I will always love you.

“I’m sorry,” Echo weeps in the wind and bows his head. His anguished cries and apologies are unworthy offerings, but it’s all he has to give in the land of the dead.

Endless rows of them...

The minute Echo dwells on just how many corpses he’s in the company of, he near forcefully expels bile.

Echo screws his eyes shut. He wonders what his helmet would look like staked in place of Jesse’s, or any of his brothers’. To see himself staring back instead.

Some vode used to say that the helmets have lived a thousand lives before a Clone has lived even one. It’s certainly survived that many, but there’s more to it. The brothers used to claim that the inanimate helmet of plastoid totally embodies the man underneath, taking a life of it’s own even after the trooper passes. Echo had always remained rather neutral on the matter, at least until Fives became the superstitious type.

Until Echo was directly faced with an army of deceased brethren, graves marked solely by their helmets. Until he could feel their deep contempt with every fleeting moment he gazed further into the visor of each. He wondered if their cold blood boiled with hatred for him. For the way no one saved them, for the way no one redeemed their poor unfortunate souls. Did they cry out? Were they fearful? Or were they impassive because that’s what they were programmed to be.

When they were programmed to execute Order: 66.

So many questions. So much guilt. So much pleading. Pleas that fell on deaf ears, for one can’t raise the dead. Many more tears because of.

Echo can only hope his brothers exited this life swiftly and peacefully. He prays to whatever higher power that they experience freedom in their eternal state of rest. That they’re dancing in the cosmos, traipsing along the stars with a euphoric pep. Maybe they’re singing a favorite. Maybe they’re dreaming. Maybe they’re doing both. “Dream A Little Dream Of Me...” A favorite tune.

Fives especially could sing that one beautifully.

The settled snow eventually shifts and dips slightly as a thin man sinks down beside. Crosshair wordlessly slings his arm around Echo. The sniper averts the imitated eyes of the dead men, but the unique patterns of their helmets have already been etched into memory. Tech gingerly sits off to Echo’s right, studying the emotions of the despondent man—not really studying, but watching for a sign; to ensure that it’s okay if he reaches out to comfortingly rest a hand on Echo’s arm. Wrecker is moving from behind to wrap Echo tight and give him a grounding squeeze. Hunter’s breath hitches because for a millisecond, he imagines seeing his baby brothers’ helmets staring back at him and suddenly Hunter can’t breathe.

It’s profound. On the desolate moon, midday turns to dusk even though the skies remain gray. The five men remain huddled together, each one in the same state of reflectiveness as the next. The frigid elements ease up if only somewhat, respectfully lenient in granting the quintet their quiet memorial.

Brothers. That’s what they are. That’s what they remember. One in the same. Same heart, same blood. There’s no such thing as Kaminoans or Cloners. There’s no such thing as ‘Regs’ or ‘Defects’. There’s only brothers. Each man remembers that day: that they were just pawns, never created to be individuals. But each man learns that day: that to still possess their individuality—their very life—is a luxury. It’s worth fighting for. Freedom is worth fighting for. And each man will fight on behalf of the brothers, of the men, who never became acquainted with the prospect before their last directive condemned and reverted them to nothing more than a number.

Numbers? The only numbers relevant are the ones The Bad Batch will do on the Empire. Over and over, and relentlessly. Blow after blow until all one can hear is the sound of Freedom ringing. And ring loud it will.

The day will come, and soon.

The Empire? They’d better watch their backs.

The Cavalry Has Arrived.

~***~

Post-Imperial Proclamation

PIP Rotation Number: 79

Destination: Planet of Unknown Origins

Documentation: Scouting for Relics. Will update with any pertinence.

—Signed by Mar-4

Update: Today I cling to the remains of fallen brethren. For the sake of anonymity, names will not be disclosed. But my heart sings with all of them. It sings, and it weeps. Some days, it will do both, for heavy is the weight. But the graveyard of men is revered; a symbol of strength that our enemies cannot defeat us all. We will prevail, because we are:

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.

Not gone, merely marching far away.

March easy, ner vode.

—Signed by Mar-5. Echo.

[vampiricgirlboss]

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐩 :

out of the coffin * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (ooc)

I'm not just gonna sit around here and deteriorate * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (self promo)

Better Tombs and Gardens * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (promo)

Bundles for Transylvania * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (asks)

like a stake through my dead black heart * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (musings)

the kind of place I'd like to be found dead in * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (starter)

the cobweb in my brains * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (writing)

a warm exotic flamboyance * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (aesthetic)

a groovy chick * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (image)

Dracula's daughter * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (faceclaims)

disco vampire * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (music)

just a regular gal * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (the Countess herself)

just an average American family * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (dynamics)

a simple country boy straight from the dirt * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Herman)

her father the Count * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Grandpa)

I love her so much * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Marilyn)

your little pointed ears * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Eddie)

my dear brother * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Lester)

you know I never drink wine * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (headcanons)

a man who makes my blood run cold * . 　 ✦ . ˚ (Lily & Herman)

[lonely-bored-writer]

Casper High Ch. 8

Danny was used to handling his things on his own. Ever since team Phantom was disbanded because his best friends had to move out to whole different states and his sister moved out to live at college, Danny has been on his own. So you can say Danny knew how to keep things to himself. Hell, he even kept things from his two best friends all the time. He didn't like having people worry about him, always feeling like he was a burden. So the whole situation with the Winchesters just made his carefully constructed system of coping a little worse.

He couldn't imagine breaking the Winchester's trust. Every time his injuries, from either his parents or hunting, were too harsh, he'd go to them as promised. The first time, it took a lot of arguing with himself to finally go to the Winchesters for help. It had been a particularly harsh 'lab session' with his parents that left him with a little more than the usual; the wounds weren't the worst he had, but the placement of the injuries made it a little too hard to reach on his own.

He was prepping a story, anything to sound less harsh than the reality that had actually occurred. But the moment he knocked uninvited, Dean regarded him with one look before ushering him in. No explanation was asked for, nor was Danny made uncomfortable- the only questions that came were to try and figure out just how bad the gashes were. Sam had quietly helping his brother along, with not much word of his own.

"Danny, come on!" Tucker laughed, waving through the camera. "I wanna know the details." Tucker finished the comment with a wiggle of his brows. Danny blushed, trying to laugh it off as his goth best friend laughed along in the taunts.

"Guys come on, it's not like that." Danny shook his head, his hair following in an attempt to hide the blush. It really wasn't what they think, right? Like just because he made a new friend doesn't mean it has to be anything like the two were implying...

"Come on Danny." Sam shook her head with a laugh, turning to look at the smallest teen. "We know you better than you know yourself." Danny paused, slightly glad that that wasn't completely true- he really liked keeping his friends from worrying too much. They would get grey hair by the time they were twenty, Danny swore, and by the time they were thirty they would probably have hair whiter than Phantom's.

"Yeah dude, we know." Tucker smirked, wiggling his brows. Danny groaned, dropping his head onto the desk with a thump. "It's okay, we won't tell."

"Not like you can do any harm." Danny glared, watching his friends share a look even through the digital stream. The ravenette sighed, glancing around his desk, surprised for once that he was actually on top of his school work for the first time in so very long. Sometimes a break was nice, no need to complicate it. "'Sides, it's not like that. We're just friends."

"For now!" Tucker responded in a sing-song voice. "Regardless dude, you know we just like seeing you happy." Tucker sobered, giving his friend a small smile.

"Yeah, just being close to someone else, means a lot. It's good that you actually have a person that you can physically interact with instead of just staunchly refusing any other chances to make friends after we moved." Sam chimed, flashing her own approving smile. Danny smiled back, knowing his friends jokes were all in good faith- his friends really cared for him and loved him in the way only such close knit friends can.

"I know guys." Danny smiled, waving off the topic. "I'll just need to-"

"DANNY!" A loud voice muffled through the door. Danny sighed, glancing towards the door. Turning back to his friends with an apologetic smile, another call sounding through the wood.

"Looks like I'm needed." He smiled, ignoring the pang of sadness of having to leave the call. The others laughed, shaking their heads, none the wiser to how his parents have changed.

"It's a wonder how they even survive without you." Sam laughed, glancing at her clock. "I have a date soon, so I should get ready."

"I got a robotics meeting soon." Tucker chimed, smiling back. "Stay clear of the radars." Tucker teased. They shared their goodbyes, clicking out about the same time. Danny sighed, closing his laptop. Another call of his name rang out, this time deeper than the last. His dad.

Danny pulled himself to his door, hesitating ever so slightly. Hopefully it wouldn't go anywhere, and if it did, he wouldn't go to see the brothers. He already wasted his daily medically meet-up this morning and Danny didn't want to bother them again so soon. He pulled open his door, just when another call sounded.

"I'm coming!" Danny called back, hopping down the stairs quickly. It was better to not keep them waiting. To his shock, Danny was met with both parents settled in the kitchen. An oddly placed looking Sam standing awkwardly across from them. "Hey Sam." Danny greeted, confused on why the taller teen was there.

"Danny, you never mentioned your new friend." Maddie mused, smiling welcoming to the teen. Sam smiled awkwardly, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Uh yea, it never came up." Danny shot Sam an apologetic smile. He shifted the focus from his parents to Sam. "Why're you here?" He asked, inwardly wincing at how harsh the tone sounded. He felt a little worse when Sam looked like a kicked puppy for a split-second.

"I thought maybe we could hang out?" Sam sounded sheepish as he spoke, almost like he's realizing what a mistake he made; going over to Danny's home probably wasn't the best idea.

"You boys could go up to Danny's room." Maddie offered, waving towards the stairs. "You're welcome to stay for dinner." Maddie smiled.

"I'm sure Sam's brother would want him back." Danny cut in, trying to give Sam a way out. Sam luckily was smart enough to take his hint.

"Maybe another time, Danny's right. My brother would get worried and he's cooking tonight anyways" Sam smiled politely. Maddie nodded understandingly, and patted her husband on the shoulder to get him to move.

"You two boys head up, we'll be in the lab if you need us."

Danny grabbed Sam's hand and quickly dragged him up the stairs before his mom could say anything else. It was once they got up the stairs that Danny realized he was still holding the taller teen's hand. With a small blush, he let go, guiding them towards his room.

"Sorry for the mess." Danny excused, quickly grabbing a few strewn clothing items. "I wasn't really expecting anyone..." Danny trailed looking around the small room. He kept it minimalist, the only figurines or trinkets were gifts from his friends or collectibles from their favorite shows and such. The walls were still the same exact purple color he had since childhood. Space and band posters alike were littered across his walls.

"It's okay, it's not that bad." Sam smiled, looking around. "It's better than what Dean sometimes is like."

"I'm not surprised." Danny laughed, taking a seat on the bed and motioned for Sam to join him. "I don't have much we can do, I have a few card games and a few video games."

"What card games?" Sam mused, turning his interest to the teen. "I'm more of a cards game person." Sam seemed slightly embarrassed at that. Danny chuckled, looking over at his shelf. His eyes scanned over the various boxes before settling on one of his favorites. This used to be team Phantoms go to game when they settled in at his place for the sleep overs.

"Your Worst Nightmare? It's an actual card game my other friend Sam found one day." Danny questioned, walking over to the shelf. "The whole game is just ordering fear, and trying to guess the other persons' right." He explained, turning the pitch black box towards the taller teen. He regarded how Sam looked a little surprised by the game. "Uh, Tucker and other Sam used to play it a ton with me." Danny explained, rubbing the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

"It sounds fun." Sam smiled warmly, motioning towards the floor in question.

"Best spot to playing card games." Danny laughed, plopping down on the rugged floor. Sam followed suit, listening intently as Danny pulled out the components of the game and explained how its played.

Maybe this game wasn't the smartest choice, it just had been one of the few games the original trio hadn't minded playing constantly and Danny was feeling slightly nostalgic after talking to his two oldest friends. Every game was always slightly different which lead to some interesting debates on the fear level for a few things. The problem with playing it with the Winchester was that he didn't know what Danny did daily, or what he had experienced. It was after the first round that Danny realized that he wasn't the only one who had weird fear levels.

This round, the fears in question were ghosts, Vampires, electricity, and germs. It was easy for Danny to fill his out, he barely had to think it through. Electricity, germs, vampires, and then dead last were ghosts. It was hard to be scared of something you deal with on a daily basis. After defeating the worst ghost in the zone, it was even harder to be too scared.

For Sam, he went with a realistic order. He just tried to see it through the eyes of an average school student, and that was when he realized something was off. It was the largest gap form all the other rounds, and it was much too similar to his. Sam's order was germs, electricity, ghost, and then vampires. Sam placed ghosts above vampires but both at the bottom scariest, and maybe Sam was just not superstitious, it was just his reasoning that set the suspicion in place.

"Well, you can't see germs. Electricity can cause heart attacks." Sam explained easily. "Vampires are pretty easy to deal with, but ghosts are complicated." Sam shuddered as if remembering something, which was where Danny realized Sam was talking like he knew from experience.

"From what I saw vampires are easier with just a stake to the heart. For ghosts you need a whole priest." The shorter teen laughed and he watched Sam freeze, almost like he said something he shouldn't before laughing causally.

"In lore Vampires are handled by chopping off their heads, and ghosts are dealt with by burning the remains or something that ties them to earth." Sam explained, before pausing for barely a second. "Besides you can't really see ghosts right?" Sam laughed, but Danny could pick up the hints of awkwardness.

He can't really dig or be hurt that Sam seemed like he was lying. It's not like Danny doesn't hide a whole side of his life from pretty much everyone in his life. Danny joined the laughter, burying that train of thought to think about later when he wasn't enjoying his time with Sam.

"I think we've played long enough." Danny chimes, looking down at the amount of tallies on the scare card. It had been close every round, both teens either being completely wrong, and pretty close in their guesses. "I think a lunch break is in order."

That train of thought hit him like a ton of bricks that night. He and Sam had a surprisingly good day, the light awkwardness that seemed to hover over them since the first time Sam came over seemed to vanish into thin air. The two had gone out to eat at the Nasty Burger before spending some time at the local park. Danny luckily had not been called away at all in the time they spent together, as all the ghosts were out of the picture for the day. When he got home, his parents were too distracted in the lab to really notice his arrival, only doing so when he brought down food, but luckily they hadn't needed his help.

That's how Danny found himself sprawled out across his bed, enjoy the nice break the day brought on after that morning. However his calm feeling didn't last long when the original doubt and suspicion hit him that night. Leave it to his anxieties to turn the day bad. With a sigh the teen rolled over, grabbing his phone.

"U guys up?" Danny texted into the group chat, and not long after the sign for both friends becoming active popped up.

"Ya dude whats up" Tucker's messaged pinged through before Sam's did.

"Whats anxiey got on the manu?" Danny chuckled, all of them usually got lazy when it came to text. They've all gotten surprisingly good at figuring out what the other was saying when it's completely butchered.

"It's Sam..." Danny hit send, before typing out another message as quickly as possible and hitting send. "i thomk his dixferny"

"Different how" Both friends sent the same message. Danny sighed, rolling his thoughts through his head. It wasn't like his anxiety driven thoughts were easy to put into words.

"Like parent" He shot back, blinking up at the ceiling. It wasn't that hard to imagine, the other teen had a good range of knowledge on urban legends and folktales. He and his family are constantly traveling for their dad's 'mechanic' job. Clockwork has told Danny about these types, he just never expected to ever run into one.

"Ghost hunters?" Tucker shot back, a shocked emoji tagged at the end of the message.

"Hunter." Danny shot back, remembering when he had explained it to Sam and Tucker the day he learned about it. "Like Stopwatch said"

"Danny this isn't good" Sam messaged, a worry emoji sitting at both the beginning and end of the message.

"Ik" Danny sighed, flipping onto his back. His life just always had to be complicated. "U guys r rite tho" He sent, knowing the other two would know exactly what he was talking about.

"I KNEW IT" Tucker sent with cheer emojis after. Danny couldn't help but laugh at the message.

"TUCKER" Sam scolded easily read through text, before another message from her came through. "When he leave"

"bout a week tops" Danny felt sadness fill him at the reminder of what the brothers mentioned not long ago. "day after their dad pops in"

"dw about hunter thang" Sam sent in, the same time a sorry message from Tucker popped in.

"Jus injoy time with mate sam" Tucker texted, a sad emoji popped onto the end. "No worries"

"ur rite" Danny shot back, eyes glued on the text bubbled. He wasn't an idiot, Sam didn't give him a number or email because it just wasn't something hunters do. They don't really make connections that last. He also wasn't delusional enough to believe he'd ever see the other boy again. It's better not to spoil this time, the Winchesters were still treasured friends.

"Try sleep?" Tucker message, waiting for the usual confirmation good night to come through. Sam always responded with a shooting star, Danny responding with a crescent moon, the waning one, and when one of the others asked if they were going to sleep, Tucker had to be the weirdo and use that creepy moon face emoji. The active dot by both names vanished, before Danny settled his phone down for the night. Yea, he'll just try to enjoy his time with the brothers. Memories are forever, even if people aren't.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Prompt: 55 -'I'm not jealous' + Wolfstar = 💜💜 P.S I really love your works 💖

Hey! So, after finishing That Fateful Night, I decided to do a story revolving around The Prank. This is sort of a practice, beta-test for an idea I have for the story, so I hope you like it!!

tw for depressing and sucidical thoughts

~

Hatred

He hated Sirius.

Hated him, with every inch, every fiber, every strand of his body.

He hated every lock of hair that escaped his tangled bun, those familiar grey eyes, the haughty face.

Yes, Remus hated Sirius. And for a damn good reason too.

He can barely remember that night, the night everything changed. He remembered that the transformation had been relatively easy, relatively painless. He can remember the last conscious thought that passed through his mind: Tonight may not be so bad after all.

Then he woke up, James’ blood covering his body, Sirius’ face pale above his as he pleaded for Remus to listen. Snape found out. I...told him.

And that was when Remus stopped caring. Started hating. 2 months later and the pain still hadn’t stopped.

He loathed himself, sometimes, after he saw the effects of what his hatred did to Sirius. He was withering away, a silent shell of what he once was, sunken cheeks and chapped skin and hollow eyes. There were new scars on his body, though he hadn’t returned home after he ran away, blood in his knuckles and on his lips, bruised ribs and necks and cheekbones. He was so quiet now, so silent, always slipping out of the room whenever James or Peter or Remus entered, not returning to his bed until long after the sun set.

Peter had asked him, 3 weeks after the Prank, when Remus was at his lowest point. Did he matter? That much, to you?

Remus had shrugged, tying to hide the misery he felt. I don’t know. We knew it couldn’t last forever. But... I loved him. I thought he did too. It was something, and then it was nothing and now... now I don’t know.

It was funny, the way the dynamics had shifted, had decayed. Sirius was a part of them, of all of them, and his absence felt like a hole, ripping through Remus. It was hard, sometimes, to ignore what they used to be, those old habits that they had grown up with.

He’s woken up too many times to stifled sobs, knows that if he pulled back the curtains, Sirius would be there, biting his lip to keep back the screams. The nightmares never ended, though Remus never came to comfort Sirius now. Neither did Sirius, when the panic attacks came, when all James and Peter could do was awkwardly pat Remus’ back and hope he didn’t choke. It had gone both ways, the desperation, opened up new wounds.

But at the same time, he knows Sirius, knows what he’s capable of. Knows that Sirius has always had his traumas, and that he was more then capable of ending it all one day. And though Remus hated Sirius, but he didn’t want him dead.

So, he takes James’ cloak, follows Sirius out on those days he slipped off silently before dawn. He watches him, wandering aimlessly around the school, up to the astronomy towers and down to the lakes, an echoing, hopeless journey. He would trail him, silently, making sure that Sirius didn’t decide to throw himself off the tower or drown himself.

It’s one of those days, evening, when he catches Sirius slipping out of the common room. Normally, he would have ignored it, would have let him go wherever he wanted to, but there’s a look in Sirius’ eyes that makes Remus pause. It’s empty, fragile and broken, like shattered glass on a concrete floor and Remus is following him out the door almost instantly. Sirius is walking, in some large circle, passing windows and archways until finally, he arrives outside.

There’s a small corner there, a junction between two stone walls, and Sirius slumps down against it as Remus frantically finds somewhere to hide. He perches on some rock, out of sight in case someone brushed past him and watches Sirius.

He looks awful. His hair was limp, hanging around his face in a tangled mess. His lips were scabbed, bleeding slightly where he bit them and he was so thin now, thin enough that his collarbone stood out against the rest of his chest. A piece of rock, battered by the wind and water and sand, smoothing down the hard edges until there was only a small piece of curved stone. There was a frail look to him, like he could shatter any moment, and Remus’ heart aches.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there for. The night is warm, the wind cool on his face, and he lets himself lean against the pillar behind his back, stretching his legs out. It feels strange doing this, without Sirius’ comforting weight at his side, an absence like a missing limb. It’s almost painful, not having anyone to lean on, and Remus closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep when he hears the footsteps.

Light and casual, almost mocking, and Sirius’ eyes snap open as Snape rounds the corner. There’s a smirk on his face, arrogant and smug, and Sirius bares his teeth. “Fuck off.”

Snape shrugs. “Careful, Black. I clearly have the advantage here.”

Sirius glares at him. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean.” Snape picks at his nails, his face a mask of calm. “One little slip and I could let your boyfriend’s little...secret out to all my friends.”

Sirius grits his teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. You saw to that.”

Snape laughs, mockingly. “Oh, well. If you tell anyone exactly how I saw to that...well. I suppose your ex’s little secret comes out then.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Snape just chuckles, leaning against the wall. “Language. Seeing as you basically have to do what I say for the next little bit.”

Sirius flips him off, seething as Snape smirks. “I wonder how your little friends would react,” he muses, “seeing as their closest friend is a filthy half-breed.”

Sirius flinches. “God, Snape. You’re just doing this because of Lily?”

For the first time, Snape flushes, his face turning an ugly crimson. “I never said that.”

There’s that little bit of the old Sirius coming back, the arrogance and the righteousness, the Sirius that Remus fell in love with so long ago. He leans against the wall, the cockiness filling his voice as he smirks. “You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. You’re risking destroying someone else’s life, risking revealing his inner secrets to everyone just because you want to get Lily to go out with you?”

“Shut up!” Snape hisses, and Sirius throws back his head and laughs. “Well, regardless. She gave up on you a long time ago, Snivellus. James is....was one of my best mates - I heard her talk about you. Absolutely loathed your skinny guys for what you called her, what you did to others like her. And I don’t think she’s going to give a damn about Remus, not when there are shitballs like you around.”

Remus recognizes what Sirius is doing. He’s takin all of his hurt, those ugly, broken bits inside of him, projecting them outwards in an attempt to hurt Snape. It’s working - Snape growls, staking towards Sirius, who holds his ground. “Filthy half-breeds! Lily deserves to be associated with higher class members of society rather then some poor, Half-animal -“

“You’re just jealous.” Sirius’ voice is merciless. “Jealous, because she will never love you, because she is happy with James. And it kills you, because you are obsessed with her, you want to possess her because no one else can have her and - “

“I’m not jealous.” Snape spits the words out. “And besides, what do you know? Your boyfriend is a freak - you two belong together, deserve each other, the traitorous queer and the goddamn werewolf - “

“You’re wrong.” Sirius sounds defeated, the heartbreak in his voice so raw that Remus’ heart clenched. “I don’t deserve Remus. He’s...” Sirius shakes his head. “He deserves someone else. Someone better. Someone who’s a little less broken, a little stronger. Someone who doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night because their back aches from Crucio.” He lets out a merciless laugh. “So, you’re wrong. We don’t deserve each other. I don’t deserve Remus. He deserves a lot more then me.” He glances up, glaring into Snape’s eyes. “But I was trying. I tried, so damn hard, to be that person that Remus needed. And you took that way from me.” He spits on the ground in front of Snape. “So go. Keep lusting after Lily. She will never love you.”

Snape backs away, his face crimson. “You’re wrong. She will.”

Sirius just shrugs. “Don’t count on it, Snivellus.”

Remus follows him back, towards the dorms, his head spinning rapidly. A phrase keeps echoing in his mind, picked out from the rest of that conversation. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. You saw to that.”

You saw to that. The words spin around in his head, an endless noise. You saw to that.

Remus just grits his teeth, racing up the stairs to the dormitory, shucking the cloak off and dumping it into James’ trunk. It could have been nothing. It could have been a misunderstanding.

But that night, when Remus heard the sobs, he didn’t turn away. He stood up, pulling his pajamas tighter around him and opened the curtains to Sirius’ bed.

[artificialqueens]

Stake Through the Heart Part 2 (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: So, I finally decided to write a second part to this! You can read part 1 here. Thank you @writworm42 for the idea and for beta-ing! I hope you all enjoy, and I’d really appreciate any feedback you have!

—

Brooke had always liked rules.

She liked knowing exactly what to do in every situation, rules helping silence the anxious buzzing in her mind, calming the fingers that fidgeted when she was unsure of herself.

It was easy to know what was good and what was bad.

And Brooke always wanted to be good.

—

She can only imagine how many rules she’s breaking now, knocking on a vampire’s door, rocking on the balls of her feet and shifting a bouquet of roses from hand to hand.

She hears loud thumps on the other side of the door, followed by a screeching that makes Brooke fear a cat just met its end inside. Maybe this is a bad idea.

“I’m coming, Mary!” Vanessa calls, and Brooke can’t help but smile through her anxiety that this is wrong.

She opens the door, red dress matching the roses, and Brooke doesn’t care how wrong this is. Part of her reasons that Vanessa is good, hasn’t killed any humans and has done nothing to hurt her, and even if this is wrong, Brooke is willing to be wrong the rest of her life to keep this warmth rushing through her, this flutter in her heart.

“Are these for me?” Vanessa yanks the roses out of her hands.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

She tugs Brooke inside to put them in water, and Brooke really wishes she didn’t because the kitchen is so bright and distracting it should come with a motion-sickness warning.

Construction paper spills over the kitchen table, forming a neon-green sea for the collection of LEGO sharks chewing on Totoro playing cards in the center. The Meme Wall is going strong, and this month seems devoted to a Halloween theme, a person in all black with a pumpkin head staring at her. A Burger King cheeseburger wrapper lies crumbled on the counter beside a collection of Taco Bell sauces. Brooke peers closer and sees a sheet of Avatar: The Last Airbender notebook paper entitled “Days Before Silky Throws Out Her Trash”, currently bearing eight tally marks in between images of Appa and Aang.

The screeching resumes from somewhere in the apartment and Brooke instinctively goes for the stake under her black dress, being armed at all times one of the first rules of hunting. She had tried to come here without it, she really had, but she felt too exposed, too unprotected, leaving the house without the weight of it against her thigh.

“It’s okay, Brooke. No one’s in danger,” Vanessa says softly. She crosses to the hall and barks, “Silky, stop singing before you scare my woman away!”

Brooke grins and relaxes her grip. Focus on tonight. Focus on Vanessa.

“Why do you have a vase shaped like a hot dog?” Brooke asks as Vanessa puts the flowers inside.

“Why don’t you have a vase shaped like a hot dog is the real question.”

—

There were all kinds of rules. There were the small rules she followed at home with her parents, like putting her toys away and doing her homework before she played. These rules held when she lived with her grandparents, more strictly enforced and growing to include household chores as she got older.

There were school rules, like staying in line at lunch and being respectful, that Brooke followed so well her teachers always labelled her a pleasure to have in class, a title she got because the mere thought of doing something wrong and getting in trouble made her mouth dry out and her heart race, something the adolescent therapist her grandparents sent her to after her parents died had noticed and discussed with her.

And then, there were the most important rules of all: hunting rules.

—

“Damn, Brooke, you drive slower than my grandmother. And she rode a horse,” Vanessa teases from the passenger seat.

“I follow the speed limit,” Brooke offers in defense.

“I might turn 100 before we get to the restaurant,” she grumbles, but she smiles and eases her hand over Brooke’s thigh.

Brooke thinks of those lips and it’s enough to push down the fear. Her heart is calm as Vanessa strokes her knee.

—

The hunting rules were the most important. Though 8-year-old Brooke might have thought being late on homework (not that she ever was) was a matter of life and death, hunting rules truly were: the difference between killing an undead vampire, or winding up dead yourself.

Don’t ever let them get near your neck. Always carry a weapon. Make sure any civilians are safe before engaging in combat. If you can’t kill, wound. Flee only as a last resort.

Brooke followed all the rules, the Hunters Guild’s top worker. She kept people safe and brought down dangerous vampires.

They told her she was good.

And that was all she ever wanted to be.

—

“It’s so nice that whole ‘vampires can’t have garlic’ thing is bullshit,” Vanessa says as she crunches on her third slice of garlic bread. “I mean, could you even imagine life without garlic bread?”

“I might have to, since you’ve eaten half the loaf already,” Brooke mumbles.

“Hey!”

Brooke just smiles. They talk aimlessly until the food arrives, Vanessa describing all of her roommates in detail and listing their wildest exploits. Stories range from A’keria flashing her fangs at men that bother her, to Yvie walking around in classic vampire garb just to see the reaction, to Silky jumping off a Taco Bell roof just because she could. If it was anyone but Vanessa, Brooke would think it was made-up, but she knows Vanessa isn’t a liar. There’s something about her that Brooke trusts without question, a trust she’s never had with anyone before.

The food settles in front of them, and Brooke can tell the atmosphere is changing to something more serious, her hunter training leaving her sensitive to the slightest difference.

“So, did you always want to be a hunter?” Vanessa asks around a mouthful of meatballs.

Brooke fidgets with her fork. “I mean, I figured I would be eventually, but when I was a kid I wanted…” She smiles wistfully and shakes her head. “It’s dumb.”

“I’ve seen lots of dumb shit in my life, Brooke. Silky attaching our Slip N’ Slide to the roof is definitely in the top five. I don’t think anything about you is dumb.”

Brooke nods. She’s never had anything besides bar pick-ups and one-night stands, never shared much about herself with anyone. She takes a deep breath. “I wanted to design dance costumes.”

Her parents always said she didn’t have to hunt if she didn’t want to, but her family had hunted for generations. Brooke grew up hearing the stories of her family, all the good they did saving people, and she didn’t really see it as an option not to follow in their footsteps. Making ballet costumes was just something to push vampire legends out of her head when she was bored, or when she was tossing and turning in the spare bedroom at her grandparents’ house when her parents were on a hunt, wide-awake with fear that they wouldn’t come back to get her in the morning.

“That’s cute!” Vanessa squeals. “You danced?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid. After my parents died, and I moved in with my grandparents, I kinda just…stopped. They let me do unofficial hunter training, and that was all I really focused on.”

Training had taken the place of dancing in a way, at least in regards to her body. Brooke liked to move physically, liked having actions to follow that cleared her mind and gave her something to focus on, and if the ache in her limbs came from leaping on pointe or kicking at a punching bag, it didn’t really matter.

“That’s too bad,” Vanessa says quietly, and Brooke knows she means it. Her face heats up and she quickly shifts the attention away from herself.

“So, have you done anything exciting? I mean, you’ve been around a while.”

“You callin’ me old?” Vanessa cackles. “Nah, I’ve definitely seen some shit in my day. My parents forced me to go to these lessons where they taught me to act all ‘lady-like’. Didn’t work out for them, huh?” She roars with laughter, stabbing at another meatball as she continues. “I liked to dance, but I wasn’t too good. As for jobs, there weren’t a whole lot of options in those days. After I fell out with my parents, I kinda drifted. Helped people where I could, you know? I’d walk around looking for people in trouble and calling ambulances. I stole money from CEO’s and gave it to people that needed it, paid hospital bills and shit. I try to bring down one corporation per decade.”

Brooke knew Vanessa didn’t harm humans, but she never would have guessed all of this. She finds all her doubts destroyed to nothing. Maybe good and evil, right and wrong, didn’t always have to come down to rules.

“That’s really nice, actually.”

Vanessa shrugs. “My parents were assholes. Not even like, baby boomer assholes that destroy the economy and yell at waitresses and discriminate against people and think it’s okay if they go to church and shit. Straight-up real, murderous assholes. I don’t want to be like them.”

“I can tell you that you’re not,” Brooke ventures, sliding her hand across the table to hold Vanessa’s.

“I guess not,” she muses, gripping back. “And you’re not like those other hunters that kill without question, Brooke.”

I was though, Brooke thinks. I killed any vampire that even looked at me because of what happened to my parents. I even wanted to kill Vanessa.

Brooke knows that while Vanessa isn’t, nearly every other vampire is truly evil, killing people for fun. But she also knows now that all the killing in the world can’t bring her parents back, something she didn’t understand at 11, or even at 18 when she started. She’ll still continue to fight evil, but remember that protecting the good is what she really wanted to do all her life.

“Don’t you be overthinkin’, Brooke. Basically every vampire in the world is an asshole, I promise you that. You know how many people you’ve saved? You’re one of the good ones.”

Brooke nods. Someone like Vanessa has seen a lot, and if she sees the good in Brooke, maybe Brooke can see it in herself.

“You think we could go back to your place?” Vanessa’s voice is hopeful.

“Of course.”

Somehow Brooke still follows the speed limit, her heart faster than the car at the thought of Vanessa in her bed.

—-

Finally, there were all-purpose rules. Life rules that Brooke had been taught since she was a child rolling around in the grass and watching rabbits in her backyard.

Help other people. Be kind. Treat others how you want to be treated.

Brooke always thought she did her best to follow these, and she knows that Vanessa did too.

Though the rules Brooke has followed all her life mark Vanessa as a monster, Brooke knows in her heart that she’s not.

And she loves her.

—-

Vanessa sinks into Brooke’s mattress and her lips travel up Brooke’s collarbone, trailing soft kisses all the way that make Brooke close her eyes in delight, but then the lips brush against her neck–Don’t ever let them get near your neck, that was the first rule–and her eyes snap open. She jumps back from Vanessa and with reflexes sharpened by years of training has her fist closed around the stake in an instant, the smooth wood in her hand only intensifying the thought that she’s in a fight, that she’s in danger, and she can’t gain control of her rapid breathing.

“Hey,” Vanessa says gently, standing with her hands up. “I know you’re always in hunting mode, but you don’t need to be with me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She knows Vanessa won’t hurt her, but she’s the exception here. Several other vampires will hurt her, have hurt her, leaving cuts and bruises that healed and scars and fears that haven’t. But Vanessa keeps whispering that it’s okay and Brooke restores her breaths to the slow, steady rise she uses to avoid detection in the woods. She doesn’t always have to hunt. She is safe. She is still good. The stake thuds onto the dresser.

“I’m okay,” she insists to Vanessa’s worried eyes. The worry Vanessa has for her reminds Brooke that she’s safe, that she’s loved. She never imagined that love could come from a vampire, or that her body would hum with love in return.

“I’m okay,” she repeats, guiding Vanessa back to the bed and helping her pull the red dress off. “Now, where were we?”

—

“Hey, Brooke?” Vanessa hisses across the mattress.

“What?”

“You got air freshener in your bathroom?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

Vanessa leaps out of bed, whistling in relief. “Garlic doesn’t kill us but it sure does make things ugly in the bathroom.”

Brooke snorts into her pillow, waiting for Vanessa to return in a cloud of citrus air freshener before pulling her fuzzy blanket over both of them and drifting off to sleep.

[tommyplum]

@v-means-a-lot-of-things​ asked:  Western AU please? *_* with the following as possible inspiration:

tied my lead and pulled my chain: a deadwood au ..gonna break my rusty cage and run

“Give us your best gin fix, then, go on.” The man in black set his elbow on the long sanded bar counter of the Gem Saloon, tilting up his head rather than his broad-brimmed hat in order to fix Al Swearengen with a rolling blue stare. Al Swearengen, however, was not the sort of man to be stared down under the timbers of his own fucking establishment, and he set down two shots of gin, bang-bang, on the wood bar in front of the two strangers to the town of Deadwood. The hooplehead in black picked his up followed immediately by the shitbird in the poncho and down the drinks went, bang-bang, and just for the fucking symmetry of the movement Al filled the shot glasses back up again for gratis. Or maybe not gratis just yet:

“The whores haven’t arisen themselves from their peaceful slumbers to be offering you their wiles and perfumes,” Al intoned, his dark gaze shrewd as he took them in. The Hat said, “Not me, mate. Your prospective customer’s sat right there in front of you,” with a dip of his chin towards the one with the flat snow-sky stare. “Although I can find my own ways to entertain myself, I reckon, give us another -- wait, hang about --” 

The Hat threw back his gin and The Stare’s gin as well before continuing, “--another top up there, would you? Ahhhhh, that’s downright hospitable, who says that the Wild fucking West ain’t got no manners to speak of.”

“Always found it a goddamn shufflefuck of politeness around here myself,” Al said congenially with a smile beneath his oiled moustache, and The Hat linked and flexed his fingers, tipping his head in the direction of the brand new piano, prompting a magnanimous wave of the arm from the proprietor of the Gem. “As you will,” Al told him, and watched the man amble over and flick out the tails of his long mud-spackled black coat as if he was a pencil-dick concert pianist about to regale the toffs in Hanover Square before he took a seat.

The Stare gave a cough like he expected to be served marmalade and the Crown fucking Jewels and Al turned his attention to him. “We hail from the same neighbourhood,” Al said, pouring again, “as in proximity being a fucking feat of imagination and relative thinking when you’re on the other side of the ocean from the sheltering shadow cast by the Union Jack. Which is to say I notice your pal over there is from London, because it’s been too long a god damn time I’ve spent having my ears assailed by all manner of fucking back-mountain coal-water sister-buggering accent that lumps its way in here and it does a heart good to hear the civilized tones of home.” Al lifted an eyebrow; The Stare sampled his gin. “And where would you arrive from correspondingly?”

“Birmingham.” The Stare licked his lips, over and over the deep pink cracks that ran through them. “I used to be a schoolteacher there, once upon a time.” His hands, knotted through the knuckles, shifted against the glass and he swirled his fingers along the sides and up to circumnavigate the rim in a move that made Al automatically pat his ass pocket to make sure his goddamn wallet was still there.

“But you’re not a schoolteacher now,” Al said, and The Stare sucked his lips together and said, with acid calm, “No. Now I’m something else.” A jangling music hall ditty started up from the piano, an aural version of what The Stare had done with his fingers, and Al pointed a finger over at The Hat holding musically forth as the whores started straggling out to see who was playing.

“And your friend the one-man revue?”

The Stare turned in his seat to look at his companion diddling the piano keys with aplomb, saying with complete seriousness, “Hm? Now that you mention it, I never got around to asking him what he did before this. Which could be on account of how in the eight months we’ve been travelling together, aside from a ninety-day grace period at the beginning for propriety’s sake, I’ve mostly been preoccupied with sucking his cock.”

Al blinked and The Stare made good on his unofficial name, turning back around. “Well,” Al said as he hoisted the bottle of gin, “bless you for the uncommon fucking clarity of mind to actually admit to being a cocksucker, unlike the godforsaken rest of us.” He took a swig, gaze shifting to the door of The Gem as drunken-assed Buckstone Billy came reeling in, his shuffle-step to the tune of whatever caterwauling noise The Hat was tickling out of the piano.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ that nobody in here -- nobody like the fuckin’ Limey owner -- is a piss-pot crook,” Buckstone Billy hollered, pausing for a moment in the entrance and then stumbling forward some more, “but I just come from my gold claim where I been staked to learn that my partner and me been cheated out of our holdings, cheated -- I ain’t sayin’ by who, remember -- out of land and goods and all our future wealth!” 

The Stare didn’t turn back around, and The Hat didn’t stop playing, but Al noticed the former schoolteacher go still in a way that boded no fucking good for anybody. “Take it down a step or two, Billy,” Al called to the man. “Have a drink and we’ll get it straightened out. You must have misunderstood Dan’s message about your claim.”

“I didn’t misunderstand getting swindled!” Buckstone Billy shouted, “And I aim to collect!”

Al couldn’t say what happened first, couldn’t say for sure, but he did know for certain that he’d never seen anybody other than the tight-assed Sheriff draw so fucking fast on a man. The Stare’s gimlet eyes didn’t change as he twisted himself on his stool and drew smooth as silk, two guns, and bang-bang like two gin shots Buckstone Billy was racked out on the floor of the Gem with his fingers twitching around his own un-fired revolver. Al also couldn’t say for sure that he’d realized that what he’d taken for a cane with an elaborate head in The Hat’s possession was in fact a rifle with an elaborate grip, not until the piano music stopped and only one bang, this time, but a shrouded figure just outside the doorway of the Gem blew over backwards into the mud and horseshit of the goddamn thoroughfare.

The whores had scattered, self-preservation being their strongest and most prevailing instinct, and apparently concert time was over because The Hat strolled over to Billy and kicked one of his feet to test out his viability before joining his friend at the bar, satisfied in his deadness. “Quick as ever, Tommy,” The Hat said, and Tommy gave a tilt of the chin and murmured, “With you in my corner, Alfie.”

“And every corner,” Alfie said with his lips parting as though it was some private joke between them, and then elbowed the bar again, musing to the antlers hung above the liquor shelf, “--seems to me, though, right, if you really think about it, that those two fellows, they didn’t choose much of a reasonable path towards resolution, if indeed that, Tommy, the return of their gold claim and redistribution between them of that which they seem to think had gone awry, was their main purpose and goal.” Alfie’s smile stretched wider as he looked at Al Swearengen, his eyes a slate grey reflection of Tommy’s, cold and holding fast. 

Tommy, for his part, put one of his guns down slowly on the bar and slicked his finger into the bottom of his gin glass, sucking the trace amount of alcohol off it and then rubbing his forefinger and thumb together contemplatively. “Why would you say such a thing as that, Alfie? Would you care to elaborate?”

“Since you’ve twisted my arm,” Alfie said, and leaned in to Tommy as if Al wasn’t there and could hear every word. “Seems to me that two men just come from their gold claim -- and granted I have not laid eyes upon the state of the one whom I sent swimming into the afterlife -- would have instead taken this issue to the bank to investigate their accounts, or to the Sheriff who could intercede on their behalf. But instead, illogically, bafflingly, they decided to come here to the saloon to confront a man who by all rights and recognition, yeah, would be very much prepared to defend himself in his own place of enterprise.” Alfie’s brow lowered, then lifted, as he added, “...never mind the fact that this one you laid out ain’t wearing boots, mate, and his shoes and trouser legs are clean as the proverbial fucking whistle.”

“And just come from his gold claim,” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette and blowing out a long doleful plume of smoke. “Imagine that.” He reached for the bottle that Al had put down on the bar, pouring himself another drink as Alfie raised his hand to forestall a refill on his own. “You’ve outlined quite a conundrum there, Alfie. But maybe that’s how things work in Deadwood.” Tommy didn’t drink his gin yet, fingers toying with the glass as he looked at Al, unwavering. “Maybe there was a plan in place that got hoisted and hanged by an unexpected element. And maybe the best thing to do is to make judicious but rapid adjustment for the potential brought forth by that element.”

Al looked from one to the other, spreading his hands flat on the bar above where his own shotgun was hidden, resting, having not been pressed into service for the piece of drama it had been slated for against Billy and his dead partner Absalom, the both of them with money from Al Swearengen himself lining their now horizontal pockets. 

“Gentlemen,” Al said, his brain making judicious and rapid adjustment, “if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me up that fucking staircase yonder to the privacy provided by my office, I think I might have a few fucking wiles and perfumes of my own to offer.”

“To which you will find a pair of cocksuckers like us appallingly receptive,” Alfie said, and Tommy threw back his drink as Alfie’s grin glinted like gunmetal.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

cliche “what I would do differently in season 8″ post

Warning:  contains plance and some kallura bias

Disclaimer:  my memory on the season (especially some details and the order of certain events) is already rather hazy, and this is more focused on characters and relationships than on plot, with which i was mostly pleased (and it’s probably crap besides)

all right here we go:

first of all when Hunk gives Lance the run-down of the Voltron tv show and mentions that it hints at romance between Keith and Allura, Lance doesn’t react except to maybe look uncomfortable. Hunk is surprised he doesn’t have anything else to say about it and wonders why he’s unusually subdued, and Lance admits Veronica (not Hunk, who’s more aware of the dynamics within the team) is encouraging him to ask Allura out. Hunk wonders what’s stopping him and Lance, still a little cagey about it, says he doesn’t know but decides he’s gonna...so he does and Allura accepts reluctantly with Romelle’s encouragement as portrayed

Pidge still agrees to go shopping with Allura but when it comes to bartering for the dress the Unilu fixates on her glasses as a “Voltron collectible”. she’s reluctant for a good second before admitting she never needed them anyway (implied they were an emotional crutch while her family was missing more than anything else) and handing them over

Coran still puts Lance through his paces but in a less humorous and more uncomfortable fashion that implies he might be a little out of his depth

after the mall Pidge, not wanting to return to her “imprisonment” on the eve of leaving Earth again, goes off to watch the sunset. Lance finds her, and at first she’s a little stiff until he teases her about her “appreciation” for something so mundane (to her). Pidge muses it’s not so mundane if it could be the last time she ever sees it, then wonders what he’s doing with her when he should be getting ready for his date, but before he answers Keith interrupts. Pidge takes the opportunity to leave (she’s still grounded and Romelle and/or Rizavi have probably suffered for covering for her). Lance properly apologizes to Keith for his antagonism

the date isn’t awkward, Lance’s family still likes Allura and she appreciates their warmth, but something is still wrong and, when they’re off alone. Allura looks like she’s on the brink of saying something (after the tree healing incident) when Lance confesses he’d liked her for a long time and had a good time with her that night but that he realizes they’re better as friends. Allura breathes a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to break his heart because she agrees and doesn’t really have time to dabble in a romance anyway and they share an amiable hug

Krolia (because i missed her) is in “Battle Scars” and makes the realization that they’re dealing with Ranveig’s monster and communicates a warning seconds before Keith does

in the Olkarion episode Pidge’s grief bonds her more strongly to the Green Lion, which is how she connects with the planet enough to view its last moments. Lance and Hunk show a bit more concern for her and both comfort her (Allura’s still with her most of the time and insists she’ll be safe with her when they go with Keith to deter the weblum). also the Olkari refugees contact the Coalition after the fact and Pidge (and the Holts) greets them and they all mourn Ryner and the rest that didn’t survive their planet’s destruction. Pidge carries the anger with her for most of the rest of the season (so she now has another personal stake in seeing Honerva defeated)

the team splits as Lance/Pidge and Allura/Hunk. Ezor is actually dead and Acxa made the whole thing up to get Zethrid to surrender, but the Olkari guy does repent after Pidge and Keith “chat” with him about his choices (i.e. survivor’s guilt when he learns Olkarion was destroyed) so he still saves the ATLAS’ crew’s butts later

Honerva doesn’t drain the Guardian but rather takes it hostage to siphon off its quintessence. she still retrieves Lotor’s body and Sincline and they’re still on the verge of slicing the Red Lion (i.e. Lance) - made more meaningful since they’re explicitly friends and not romantically entangled - when Allura’s about to spear Honerva

rather than Lance, Keith gives Allura reassurance (and there’s no “romantic” mush but Kinkade still rebukes Rizavi for spying on a private conversation). also Krolia is interviewed alongside Kolivan, ostensibly to remind him of things he might’ve forgotten. she’s also shown reacting to Coran’s...excessiveness; there’s a brief glimpse of Pidge and Lance playing the new game while Rizavi observes they’re at it again and wonders if they’ll let her play seeing as she helped Pidge procure it, right in time for Hunk to interrupt and ask if they’ll taste something for him

Allura says that, after some rest, she’ll remove the “entities” from the other Altean colonists (she never does because...the one she removed from Tova ends up in her). all of them (especially Coran) are reluctant to leave her for the Clear Day carnival but she insists they go (Keith maybe gives her one last look before agreeing). alongside Lotor she hallucinates versions of Keith (who says he senses no hostile intent from it and that Lotor did have good intentions so maybe she should trust him), Shiro (who reminds her that he once had a direct link to Haggar’s mind, but if she knows about it she can use it to her advantage), and Coran (who tells her she’d be honoring her father’s memory experimenting with something he once did) in turn. Allura, despite her skepticism because she knows this isn’t real, sees no recourse and promises them that she’ll give it up as soon as they no longer need it

meanwhile at the carnival Hunk and Keith still get stuck on the ride (it was a Highlight). callback to “Space Mall”, Lance and Pidge go off together. when she doesn’t get enough tickets to earn the “best” prize, Lance cheers her up by challenging her to a pricey and rigged carnival game that he almost wins...which is when Pidge suffers the family portrait for more tokens. they retry, Lance wins and relinquishes his prize to Pidge, who may or may not blush only to observe he might be a good sharpshooter after all

(Pidge and Hunk both question how Shiro won at arm-wrestling without an elbow)

Coran is the most adamant about Allura not using the entity, though the others are still doubtful. Keith confronts her properly about it after the meeting, but Allura shuts his protests down by saying they need to defeat Honerva even at the cost of one of their lives (possibly alludes to his near-sacrifice at Naxzela)

Lance has a “wtf” moment when his bayard turns into the sword. he and Alfor only talk briefly about his appreciation for Allura before telling him he really should train in using that thing

Alfor to Allura about Keith:  why is the red one in the Black Lion??

(possibly he also comments on his quintessence-sense...because someone should)

Trigel lowkey chides Pidge for neglecting her connections with people outside her family while also commenting on her kinda adoption of the Olkari

when Alfor is incredulous about Allura’s use of the entity (even Zarkon reminds her of the damage it caused) she insists it was the only way (Keith, internally:  i told her so); the Paladins, horrified, stop her from tormenting a younger Zarkon with the memories of what his older/possessed self did, and she has a moment where she’s incredulous about what she’s doing/what she’s become; she promises that she’ll happily destroy the entity once they reach the end of the line

Allura admits to Coran that she saw her father while in Honerva’s mindscape. Coran begs her one last time to release the entity only for her to admit she’ll need someone else’s help

and when she’s recovering (when was that in the season?? can’t remember) everyone visits her, but it’s Lance reassuring Keith that Allura will be all right rather than the other way around...and he admits to remembering the “bonding moment”, Keith is like i knew it and rubs it in Lance’s face while still seeming troubled

Pidge still assists Slav and Sam but Trigel’s (and Slav’s hehe) reprimand sort of sticks with her and before they do battle she tells her teammates how much they all mean to her (maybe prefaces it with “i’m not good with people but you guys taught me how to be better”). there’s a group hug, but Lance lingers and they hug properly while she tells him that he’ll do great and he says that he knows (and he means it)

Battle proceeds. Maybe a little trimmed down so Lance, at some point, can “properly” bond with the Red Lion

Allura shows Honerva her work and tells her they can fix it if only she releases the Guardian. Honerva agrees, but it’s not enough and Allura reluctantly admits a life must be given too (and that the entity must be destroyed), at which point her teammates (Keith’s loudest, again bringing up his near-sacrifice at Naxzela as the wrong answer) protest...and Honerva offers something, that she started this and that she’ll finish it too and that Allura should live the life she never got to. she even uses the last of her power to take back the entity

“one year later”, Allura is shown mourning the person Honerva (and Zarkon) was by erecting a memorial to Alfor and to the Alteans that perished when Zarkon destroyed the planet and when Lotor harvested the colonists’ quintessence. she mentions to a few former colonists that they should never forget the mistakes of the past but learn from them, and she’s shown with Romelle and Coran, who begins briefing her on what Keith’s been up to with the Galra...

Pidge is with Matt, finishing up Chip (eh might as well keep it). he teases her about being late to her “date”, but Pidge insists it’s not a date (because all her other ex-teammates will be there)

the seven of them reminisce

Pidge works with her family but she’s also an ambassador spreading science ideas around the universe. Lance is an instructor at the Garrison (he basically has Iverson’s old job probably), and they’re implied to be happily in a relationship. Keith’s fate is pretty much the same but it’s mentioned he gets inspiration from Allura and her memories of old Altea. ditto Hunk

the show ends with Allura’s coronation as queen rather than Shiro’s wedding (though it can be implied he, attending wearing his black Garrison uniform, met Someone at the celebration afterward), and the Lions flying their separate ways, ostensibly to return when the universe needs Voltron again

[darkredehmption]

Breaking

#SL #Part7

#Breaking

Written by @OfFeatherNFang @DamagedBrother @PanwerePredator

*~*~*

Mal:

There was a chill in the air that wouldn’t seem to lessen. The warehouse felt like a meat packing plant - all it was missing was the hooks and cow carcasses hanging from the ceiling. As I glanced up at said roof, I wasn’t surprised to see a whole whack of nothin doin. Should’ve known better, really; Vishous was damn good at creating the mhis that concealed the Brothers up top. 

And other than Tohrment and Wrath, both of whom remained at the manse for security reasons, every other Brother was concealed somewhere in this warehouse. All of them had a stake in this, not just for their Brother, who stood beside me, but for Hadrian.

Looking sideways at Zsadist, I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know the tumult of thoughts darting through his head. Mine male was a live wire barely contained, and I knew nothing would make it better until Hadrian was free of Amos, and still breathing. I suspected the fact he’d promised Hadrian death if this failed also weighed on him; a burning regret that gnawed at his soul. 

If it came to that, I would never let Zsadist be the one to make that call. I was the hunter. For mine male, I would end Hadrian’s suffering.

I only hoped he’d forgive me for it.

“Nallum?”

His golden eyes lacked their usual shine as he looked to me at my whisper, and I fought the impulse to reach for him, to hold him. Instead I simply stepped closer, wishing I had my wings to stroke at his back.

“We’re gonna do this. It’s gonna work,” I murmured.

Zsadist:

This was it. The final showdown with Amos. We could end this once and for all. With our main goal, keeping Hadrian alive. Last night when Mal got off the phone with his hunter friend, he told me about something they thought might work. See Hadrian was a shifter, but not a one-trick pony. The fucker could transform into multiple animals, which apparently was something very special in the shifter world. So the idea that Mal had come up with was for Hadrian to shift to something else. Something that Amos was not bonded to. Then when all is said and done we could move in and take down the vampire. 

Now even though the other Brothers are here for backup, I was the one who would be killing that mother fucker. He hurt my friend and I wanted to watch him bleed. Fuck. So many options. Though the thought of decapitation made a sinister smirk form on my lips. He deserved it. No one lays a hand on my friends and gets away with it. Biting back a growl as I turn my head to gaze at my male. He gave me a look of reassurance then spoke the words that I had to believe. It was going to work and Hadrian was going to be alright. ‘Cause there was no way I was going to let him die. Fuck no. 

Lifting my head towards the door as I hear it open. This was it. Taking a deep breath as I wait for them to come into view. Fuck, I swear if he put another mark on Hadrian’s face I will lunge at him. So Mal better be ready to tell the shifter to change. Curling my hands into fists as I try my best to stay calm. I was glad that I had the Brotherhood here; minus Wrath and Tohr, I needed them. 

Hadrian:

I couldn’t be sure if Amos had been expecting my total lack of resistance or not, but he seemed pleased by my compliance. The moment he’d woken up I’d been the epitome of a well behaved pet - following orders, not speaking. Just… doing as I was told. 

Getting the call from Zsadist that he wished to meet Amos again had been the only moment of shock to punctuate the numbness. When Amos had asked what his intent was, I’d been honest: I had no idea. I didn’t know why Zsadist would want to meet him, and through sheer disbelief I’d managed to hide thoughts of the phone call earlier - my desperate plea for the Brother to kill me and end this. 

Which is why a meet and greet threw me for a total six. 

As Amos strode into the warehouse, with me as his not-so-loyal shadow, I looked ahead to see Z and the one I now knew as Malachi. I couldn’t see anyone else, and rather than seek them out or check for their scents, I didn’t bother, not wanting to give Amos the heads up if I could help it. 

“That was quicker than anticipated,” Amos said into the silence, stopping several meters away from the pair. As I moved to stand beside him he cast a glance my way then looked to the couple. “I had believed you would take every moment until the deadline to come to a decision, but then some decisions are easier to reach than others?” He mused, arching a brow. “So please. Tell me. What is your decision? Do you join Hadrian and myself…” His hand lifted, stroking over the still healing scab on my cheek. I didn’t even flinch, some small piece of my soul further shrivelling and dying at the contact. “…or do you abandon him here and leave?”

Mal:

The /stones/ on this motherfucker, I swear to fuck… Still, I adopted a pleasant smile - the kind retail workers have perfected - and inclined my head. My gaze flicked to Hadrian briefly at the touch, noting the total lack of fight back, the almost dead look in his eyes, before I turned my attention back to Amos.

I knew without looking that Brothers above, and outside, were moving in to flank the new entrants, and all I had to do was give them a minute before we could move. Then I had to go for Hadrian…

“You’re correct. Some decisions are easy to reach, given the correct motivators,” I add, adopting a conspiratorial grin. As if my soul were as stained and black as his to not be bothered by the shifter’s torment. “When one looked at the options and all we have here, all we have done, and all you could bring to us, the decision was plain. As obvious as the nose on your face,” I purred, the words holding a double meaning.

It had been obvious from the beginning. Just not the way Amos thought. And wouldn’t you know, that was a minute. Time’s up, you son of a bitch…

“So with that in mind, we must disrespectfully decline your offer and tell you in no uncertain terms to go fuck yourself.”

Vishous dropped from the ceiling behind them, appearing like a wraith and looking twice as fucking intimidating. Amos whipped around, clearly shocked, while Hadrian barely glanced over his shoulder, some flicker of life returning to his eyes as he realized what was happening.

Amos snarled, that pretty face twisting into something horrifying as his fear energy punched outward, like a black cloud. With a snarl of my own I cast my hand out, fighting his energy with my divinity. Hadrian tensed, his eyes going blank before his body turned toward Vishous, lowering itself into a crouch, like he was going to attack. 

“Z! Go! Distract him!”

I had to get to Hadrian. And I couldn’t if Amos was intent on drowning every Brother in their worst fears, while making Hadrian fight them. 

Zsadist:

Everything happened in a blur. First we were just standing around and talking, then the Brothers were falling from the sky, and before I knew it I was rushing over towards Amos. I had no time to even glance at the shifter as I swung a fist back and knocked the vampire square in the jaw. Though I had to remind myself that whatever I did to this piece of shit I also did it to Hadrian. And I felt bad for every punch I threw at the vampire.

I know the shifter had to be hurting, but I had to distract his master. Mal needed to talk to Hadrian. Let him in on the plan so we could end this once and for all. I only hoped that he would go along with it. That he wouldn’t try to be some hero and just ask me to kill him. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t let the shifter die. 

I was too lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice Amos moved to knock me down. We fell back onto the floor and I could only hope that Mal was talking fast. ‘Cause I didn’t know how much longer I could hold him down without fucking him up.

“Let me know when!” 

I holler out to the angel. I didn’t need help from my Brothers but I could sense them nearby. Almost waiting for this fucker to make a dirty move on me. My hands grabbed at his throat. Trying to not choke him too hard as I slammed his head back against the floor. My body straddling his own. Fuck I wanted to drag my dagger across his face. Make him wear the same marks that Hadrian wore on his face.

“You are a real piece of work, you know that?” My eyes pitch black as they narrow into thin slits. “You are going to pay for what you did to him.” Growling out, my fangs elongating to their fullest. I could sense him trying to use that same trick on me that he did before. A vision of Hadrian dying in my head forms and I had to use all of my power not to break my hold on the vampire. It’s not real. He’s okay. He will be okay. 

Hadrian:

Pain flared through me. It was at odds with the total disconnect of my brain as I felt Amos’ influence, his mind directing me toward Vishous and unsheathing my claws as my heart /ached/. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I’d be made to - made to fight these Brothers that had accepted me as part of their family. Their pack.

Then it was gone. I reeled as his presence vanished from my mind, my eyes flicking to where Zsadist had tackled him to the floor, the pair of them wrestling for dominance. My head ached, and I suspected my golden eyed friend had something to do with that. Not that it mattered; if he wanted to rip out Amos’ heart, I’d welcome it. 

“Hadrian!”

I snapped back to focus on… Malys. The unfamiliar vampire paused only long enough to see I wasn’t about to disembowel anyone, my claws retracting from Amos summoning them to hurt Vishous, then he was grabbing my arm and hauling me away from the grappling pair, even as the Brothers drew closer, watching their own.

With his touch my mind reeled, my nose telling me he wasn’t just a vampire. There was more. So much more.

“What… what are you guys doing?” I managed, tearing my gaze from his deep brown one to look for Zsadist. I felt a new flash of pain as the Brother was forced to defend himself against Amos, wincing at it, at the stupid bond that bound me to an asshole and his designs. “H-how are you going to stop him? Stop us?”

Us. Because I was his. 

Mal:

Hadrian was watching them, wincing every now and then, as Zsadist fought with his Master. When he didn’t respond the first time I called his name, I reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him back to me.

“Hadrian! Listen to me! You need to listen! What is the shift? What is /his/ animal to call?”

There was a slow blink, confusion furrowing his brows as I sensed his desperate need to look back, to see what was happening. Cursing, I called on my Divinity; warm, golden light that could fill me up, let me see aura and soul and power. I called on it and I reached out to wrap it around him, to touch his soul and make him focus.

He gasped like he could feel it, his pupils dilating as clarity came back.

“L-Lion… his animal is the Lion.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed until I knew it had to be painful. He stared into my eyes, eyes I knew had to be a startling silver white.

“Then Change into /anything/ but the Lion!”

I saw the flicker of realisation in his eyes a beat before it happened. The shoulder under my hand rippled then flexed, then his body was contorting, fur sprouting through skin, bones lengthening and claws breaking through flesh. I let go of him long enough to step back, to let the burst of goo and water slick my boots as he became a Beast, a leopard, then I was stepping close again, shoving my hand into that fur and cloaking him in my power. 

“Zsadist! NOW!”

Zsadist:

When Amos’s mind tricks weren’t working so great on me, I’m welcomed with a punch to my face as he breaks free from my grip. Snarling as I shake my head from side to side like some kind of animal. 

“You think you’ve won?”

I spit in his face, rising the moment he does. My eyes black as night as they lock onto his own. Watching as he wiped my saliva away with his fingers. “You think that I didn’t come here with some way of making sure I got what I wanted?” Growling out my words. The Brothers staying close just in case they had to jump in. “You hurt my friend. Someone who is an ally to the Black Dagger Brotherhood. And guess what? We protect what is ours.”

As I say that I hear a series of noises that are followed by a growl and Mal screaming out to me. Now. It was time. I nodded to Vishous, Butch, and Rhage as they come up behind him. Bringing the bastard down onto his knees in front of me, pinning him in place so he couldn’t move. I was surprised they didn’t kick the shit out of him first, but there was no time to waste. We must get this done. 

I draw my black daggers out of their holsters that were strapped to my chest. Taking in the fool as I drag the tip of my blade over his face. Watching as it knicks his skin, causing his blood to run down his cheek like a teardrop. Leaning in, I whisper. “Burn in Dhunhd, or wherever the hell you came from.” 

With that said, I dig both blades into his chest, dragging them down in one fell swoop. I had the satisfaction of watching his blood and guts spill out onto my shitkickers, his heart in ribbons in what was left of chest. His head sagged forward as a final gasp fell from his lips.

I couldn’t help but stare at him. Like I was waiting for the fucker to get up and lunge for me. Like his type of vampire meant he wouldn’t die easily. But he didn’t. He was dead. 

The Brothers dropped him in a heap on the floor as I spoke. “Cut off his hea-”

Hadrian’s scream cut me off; the mangled shriek of leopard and man combined as whatever bond Amos had made threatened to drag him along into the dark of death. My head whipped around, taking in two of the most important people in my life, as one of them crumpled.

Hadrian:

There was a moment in time where I stood on all four paws, panting at the fast Change, the trembling of my muscles. I could hear it all so much clearer now; hear as Zsadist condemned Amos, and told him to go to hell. I heard it as the black daggers sank into flesh.

And I felt it as they ripped downward. 

My entire body shuddered. Something deep inside me, whatever was tied to Amos, screeched and shredded and ripped at me. I had the briefest glimpse of silver eyes, like starlight, before everything inside me shattered.

Someone was screaming. The sound reverberated in my head as my body hit the floor, every muscle trembling in and out of a Shift. Human. Animal. Human. Animal. 

My Lion roared in agony, and it was only as I roared with it that I realised it was me that was screaming. Everything, every muscle, every nerve, felt like it was on fire. A burn enveloped my chest, my head, and my heart felt like it was being torn from my chest with spindly, razor fingers. 

Light shone above me as I seemed to fall into darkness. I didn’t know which would be better; the cool caress of darkness, or the comforting warmth of light. But it didn’t matter. The choice wasn’t mine. As my eyes fell shut I surrendered, my body going limp as the agony won out. 

For a heartbeat I knew there was Zsadist. I knew there was Malys, and the Brothers.

And then I knew nothing.

Malys:

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened. Not Him, not the Scribe Virgin, not even the fucking Omega. 

Hadrian’s body morphed beneath my grip. I felt the muscles, the fur, the flesh, all but liquefying between my fingers as he was forced through a series of changes. I wanted to let go. I wanted to fucking /hurl/ at the sensation. But I did neither.

My eyes flicked to Amos’ corpse, and it was in that moment that I saw it, like a glimmering, silver thread. The bond between them stretched taut, whatever mangled, decrepit remains of a soul he’d had pulled away and trying to drag Hadrian’s with it. The lightness within him, that piece of him that was pure ‘Hadrian’, wavered, like a candle flame flickering in a strong breeze.

I didn’t think. I just reacted. My wings appeared as I cast them wide and threw them over him, like a divine blanket. I needed to protect that flame, keep it from going out. I reached for that light with hands that shimmered with power, and I held onto it, locking my jaw and snarling at the effort. 

The metaphysical bond was strong, and Hadrian shielding himself in the form of another shift had helped fray that silver thread. But it hadn’t broken. Not quite. I could all but see it still dragging him. 

“/No/,” I half panted, half snarled. 

My wing moved like it knew what to do, even when I didn’t. It stroked along Hadrian’s crumpled human form, the primaries suddenly edged, like a blade, in silver light. That bladed edge touched the final thread.

The whiplash as it snapped away /hurt/. I shuddered as I half recoiled, staggering away from the panwere as he lay motionless on the floor. Unconscious, but alive. His soul still flickered in its shell, but it no longer guttered like it was about to go out. I sank to my knees, my wings falling with me until they dragged on the floor. I felt spent as my eyes lifted, looking for Zsadist.

Zsadist:

Quickly I darted over to my angel and the shifter who was on the floor. My brows drawing in as I sink to my knees in front of the pair. Voice cracking as I speak. “Is he…?” I couldn’t even get the words out. Couldn’t even imagine the possibility that I would never see Hadrian again. Trying my hardest to not break down right now in front of my Brothers, in front of my angel. 

Slowly my head lifts, watching as Mal shook his head in response to my question. Letting out a sigh of relief. “So he’s alive?” He nodded slowly as I leaned in to listen to the faint beats of Hadrian’s heart. “We need to get him back to the mansion, like right now.” My brows draw in as I take in the angel. He didn’t look so hot either. Extending my hand out, letting it rest against his face.

 “Hey…”

Frowning as I watched his head sag slightly. My fingers slowly caressing his cheek. “Took a lot of energy out of you, huh?” I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and just hold him tight. This male...he was everything to me. Whether I wanted to accept it all or not. “Let’s go home.” I murmur before gazing down at Hadrian with a permanent frown on my face. 

Moments later we are up, the shifter in my arms as we make our way over to the waiting Escalade. Sitting in the back of the SUV with Mal beside me, and Hadrian in my lap. The city was a blur to me as we raced through the streets of downtown Caldwell, heading straight for the compound. Reaching out until my hand lands on top of the angel’s. When our eyes met, I parted my lips. The words were right there, on the tip of my tongue. Three words that have been screaming in my head for awhile now. But before I could get them out we arrived.

[fanficimagery]

Klaroline6668 says: I'd like one were Klaus is fighting  to find his love when he finds her &  realizes of all the pain that she endured from Marcel's vampire's he goes to the compound & takes some of them down realizing Rebekah & Marcel's attempt to put him down  it only fuels his rage even more after getting them to swear allegiance to him he makes sure to know their every move as King it's his Job to protect his family & his queen

Author's Note: So I'm not sure what I have written is what you were looking for, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

GIF courtesy of: @bloody-niklaus / @ohmythundergod 

Klaus X Reader

Being in love with Klaus Mikaelson had its ups and downs. As he was the Original Hybrid for over a thousand of years it made sense that he accumulated many enemies. And though he did his very best to protect you, there were just some days when a threat popped up out of the blue and it found you on the wrong side of a wooden stake.

But this threat- this one threat in particular had your head spinning and heart aching for Klaus' reaction when he figured out what was going on.

Tied to a wooden chair with metal stakes driven through the backs of your hands, pinning them to the arm rests, you mumble behind the vervain soaked cloth that had been shoved between your lips and tied around your head. Blood soaks your hairline and your shirt though the cuts and abrasions have long healed, but the picture you must paint is what really is going to set Klaus off. That is, is if he ever gets here.

"Bloody hell," Rebekah suddenly says as she strides into the abattoir. "I said to kidnap her and hold her hostage, not torture the poor girl."

The cloth is ripped from your mouth and you suck in fresh air to give your raw throat a chance to heal. "'Bekah, please. Please don't do this." The blonde frowns and you grimace as you attempt to move your hands. "You know he won't be happy."

"And that's precisely why we're doing it." Marcel saunters up next, the dark skinned vampire smiling as if this was an every day occurrence. "Klaus needs to make a choice- the Kingdom.. or his Queen."

Realization dawns and you scoff. "Are you kidding me?! You've kept me in agonizing pain all because he's hurt your pride? Grow up, Marcel!"

Marcel moves without a word, hissing and baring fangs in your face. "Do not speak of what you do not understand, little girl. New Orleans is mine and Klaus will learn that he can't just waltz in and start barking orders."

"And here I thought I was the baby vampire."

"Enough." Rebekah nudges her boyfriend aside less he add more blood to your already damaged shirt. "You have no idea what Nik's really capable of. Once he's indisposed and you're free of his influence, you'll see that what we're doing here is right."

Sighing heavily because you know there's no way she's going to listen to you, you say, "You're his sister, Rebekah. I won't pretend to understand what happened in your past-"

"Then don't," she hisses.

"But this- just don't. You'll only anger him and it'll just add to your list of problems with him."

Rebekah looks torn, but she's eventually dead set in her and Marcel's plan. "This is the only option. He'll come running once he learns you're in danger and when he does, we'll be ready."

You open your mouth to protest, but Marcel shoves the cloth gag back between your lips. You whimper as the essence of vervain is inhaled and it feels like razors being dragged down your throat. Then before long, the abattoir doors are being kicked open with a snarl of rage.

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

"Showtime," Marcel mumbles at your back.

You squirm in your seat as Klaus lays eyes on you, his nostrils flaring and looking a fright with all the blood splatter on him. Numerous vampires come out of the shadows from all over the abattoir, hissing in silent anger.

"You've made a grave mistake, little sister."

Rebekah gulps. "You left me no choice, Nik. All you had to do was pass through and leave Marcel be, but you sought to take what was his."

"New Orleans was never his to begin with and it'd be best that you remember that. Marcellus' little kingdom is about to come crumbling down and you've seem to have fallen on the wrong side of the fence." Marcel hisses, as does his army. Klaus, having let his anger simmer, smirks. "But I will offer up this one chance." Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he then pulls free a silver coin and holds it up for all to see. "Whoever shall pick up this coin will have mercy, not for just themselves but for the lot of you pathetic vampires as well. Do I make myself clear?" He tosses the coin down and the noise of the coin hitting concrete echos around the room. "No takers? Magnificent."

The first vampire launches himself at Klaus and he decapitates it with his bare hand. There's a moment of silence as the head rolls across the floor and then.. and then all hell breaks loose. You scream behind the cloth in your mouth, your fear spiking as the vampires all attack at once. Klaus rips them apart, limb by limb, punching through chests and ripping out hearts.

But soon enough the tides turn and Klaus winds up with wooden stakes shoved in his abdomen and back. He ends up on his knees with chains wrapped around his wrists, his arms then spread wide. As his head hangs and he heaves quietly from his place across the room, you scream his name from behind your gag. The vampires still standing start to cheer and their relief makes you want to stake each and every last one of them.

"Do you see now?" Marcel saunters forward, arrogance in every step. "This is my home- my kingdom! You can't take back what was never yours, Klaus, and because you've threatened myself, Rebekah, and killed a bunch of my men.. I'm thinking a decade or five in the Garden will do you some good."

A low growl emanates from Klaus and he slowly lifts his head. The whites of his eyes have gone black, his iris' are glowing gold, and dark veins beneath his eyes pulse angrily. His nose twitches as he lets loose a nearly silent snarl and your breath hitches.

"Marcel," Rebekah murmurs in fear.

Marcel starts to step back and Klaus angrily rips one chain free from it's post. The second chain rips free and Klaus is once again back on his feet. From one moment to the next, Klaus speeds around the room and sinks his fangs into Marcel's last standing vampires and pumping them full of werewolf venom.

Klaus then somehow ends up behind you and you manage to glance over your shoulder just in time to see his hand disappear into Marcel's chest. The dark skinned vampire grunts and gasps in pain, and Rebekah screams in fear. She then disappears and the shout of, "Nik!", has you facing forward to see that Rebekah has picked up the coin.

"That was either very brave of you, sister, or very stupid." The squelch of Klaus ripping his hand out of Marcel's chest has you letting out a breath you hadn't even realized you'd been holding. "New Orleans is back under my rule and Mikaelson control." Rebekah's shoulders seem to drop and Klaus tuts at her. "But you, Rebekah, I'm thinking I can go a century without seeing your face around here. After you and Marcellus swear your allegiance, of course."

She blinks wide eyes at him, tears forming. "Nik."

"Don't. You should have known better than to involve Y/N is your futile attempt to rid yourself of me. You should have known-"

"We swear it," Marcel mumbles. "We swear allegiance." He stumbles over to Rebekah and takes her hand within one of his own. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the female Mikaelson, he stands tall in hopes of soothing some of his pride.

"Good. Now leave. While you still have the chance."

"I'm sorry." With one last look at you, Rebekah disappears with Marcel.

Klaus is in front of you within a split second and he rips out the stakes from your hands without preamble. You scream and then choke, and the cloth is ripped from your mouth. "I'm so sorry, love." Hands cradle your face and you greedily breath in fresh air once more. "I never wanted you pulled into my family drama."

"Perk of.. loving a Mikaelson," you mumble. Klaus grins at you and the blood coating his face is looking rather delectable in your healing state.

"I'm sure. Now come, lets get some blood in you and properly healed up."

You accept Klaus' lazy kiss before letting him pull you to your feet. The both of you waste no time in heading out into the streets, disappearing into the shadows and snatching tourist after tourist to feed, compel, and release. Then once you're sated and the sting of vervain down your throat is a distant memory, you and Klaus return to the abattoir together.

Out on the balcony, the both of you watch the sunrise. Snuggling under Klaus' arm, you wrap your arms around his waist. "Take it all in, sweetheart."

"Take what in?"

"This," he gestures to the city below. "A king needs a queen," he then muses. Snorting at his words, he squeezes you a little tighter in return before pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Welcome to your kingdom, my love."