#like why are they destined for violence every time... what exactly is DI and what even triggers it

[pavlovers]

you cannot tell me this man politely sat here like this the entire time his full role in the plot was revealed to us like 💀

[itsmewillful]

I will Always Find You

Main Masterlist

Character Masterlist:

(Vox x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5782 (i got too carried away)

Outline: You, the wife of the infamous media overlord Vox, falls from Heaven and you find yourself in a chaotic new world. You meet the Hazbin Hotel crew, but most of all, you met him. Your long lost love.

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, language, etcetera.

A/N: Heyy guys, I totally was not gone for an entire year. . .but, I'm done with High School now so I will probably start posting a little bit more often. . .*no promises though. my memory is absolute garbage*

Also, why am I obsessed with a TV?

Story below the cut:

Heaven.

The place all virtuous and 'perfect' people ascend to after living the life every good person is meant.

You don't even know how you got here. You always thought that you would go to Hell. (Not to put it lightly) Perhaps it was because you were widowed at a rather young age. Perhaps it was because you were murdered by your late husband's arch rival. Or maybe, it was a bit of all.

Your life on earth wasn't bad per se. In fact, you had a very happy life. You got married at the fruitful age of 20, to your best friend, and lived in a very comfortable home. Your husband, Vincent Holland, was a big-time news reporter in your hometown.

But, why was it in Heaven that almost all your memories regarding Vincent were blurry? As if someone with significant power was preventing you from reminiscing on your past life?

You could barely remember his face; his award winning smile. His sapphire blue eyes, and his dark hair.

You hated this.

You couldn't even remember how long ago you died.

Hell, you couldn't even remember how you died. Just that you were murdered one day and your body was left to rot in a random alley.

A hand waving in front of your face interrupted your sad train of thoughts, and your attention immediately shifted back to your friend. Or acquaintance, you weren't exactly sure where your friendship status lay.

"You alright there, partner?"

You sighed slowly and nodded your head in affirmation. You weren't sure if you were doing it to convince them that you were okay, or yourself.

"I'm alright, Kai, just a bit tired ," you mumbled pathetically. Kai was a very beautiful shark-like angel. You met them some time ago and instantly clicked with one another. But, Kai was one of those people that had a tendency of gossiping with their girlfriend Molly. And you were never comfortable sharing anything beyond your life in Heaven.

Which was a pity because you were sure if you shared it, you wouldn't feel so fucking stressed out.

The shark angel let out a small laugh and gently patted your head.

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say m'lady. You know if there's anything bothering you, you could always talk to me or Molly, right?"

You again nodded your head, even though you probably would never take up the offer.

"Hey you guys! How are you both doing?"

Speak of the devil and he shalt appear.

"Hey Molly! I see you're finally off of work?"

"Yup! And I brought a treat for you both!" Molly said in a sing-song tone of voice. Kai smiled with a nearly evil-like grin and made grabby hands at their girlfriend.

"Gimme, I can smell the baked goods!"

You chuckled at Kai's antics and stood up from the chair you were sitting in. Kai raised a brow at you and you motioned with your hand that you were going to get another drink. You picked up your now empty whisky bottle and began to head over to the bar where you and Kai find yourselves frequently whenever you both have had a long day at work.

The bartender, Mr Smiles (as Molly so lovingly named him) greeted you with a very drunken smirk when you arrived at your favourite destination.

"Hello there, Mrs. Holland. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You rolled your eyes and sat down on one of the barstools, placing your cup down and sliding it over to the bartender.

"Another, please." you said simply. Mr. Smiles blinked at you before grabbing your cup and pouring more of the golden liquid into it.

"The 'Another' for the lady." he said cheekily, to which you giggled. You snatched the cup up from the table and practically downed the strong liquid and forced back a gag when it burned your throat. The bartender chuckled at your silliness and leaned over the bar so you could hear each other better over the loud chatter of the Cloud Nine bar. (You and Kai always found the name of the bar to be hilarious)

"So, you never drink this much unless you have something to spill. Need to talk about something sweetheart?" he asked with a patient tone of voice.

You sighed dramatically and leaned back against your chair, deep in thought.

"I just. . ." you trailed off in thought before sighing again in annoyance at your capability of explaining your biggest problem.

"You just?" he tried to urge you to continue, but was rudely interrupted when a flock of angels came bursting into the room.

"His Holiness, Archangel Michael needs to discuss important matters in Town Square. Everyone present is required to make an audience immediately."

Murmurs began to fill the room in confusion of the sudden announcement. You raised your brow at the bartender, quietly asking him if he knew what all the commotion was about. He shrugged before continuing on with putting the remaining glasses away.

"Hey, partner, we need to head out to Town Square." Kai said, putting a webbed hand onto your shoulder. You nodded and stood up, following close behind your two buddies. Molly, like always, had a small hop to her step as if she was always happy and excited about things. Her partner smiled at her giddiness and soon began to also skip along with her.

Oh, how much you missed being able to have someone to be close with. And once again, your thoughts began to turn back to your late husband, Vincent.

You missed him so much.

And you were fully aware that your beloved Vincent was in Hell. The place you were also sure to go to when you kicked the bucket. But alas, here you are, in the city of silver and gold.

You stopped abruptly when you reached Town Square and noticed how big of a crowd was already there. Thousands of angels and souls alike, all stood cramped up around a huge balcony that belonged to Archangel Palace.

The chatter began to quiet down when the all-loved Archangel Michael stepped up to the balcony and waved to the crowd to silence their speech.

Kai bent over to you and whispered about how interesting things were going to get. You didn't respond, but instead gasped when a photo got projected onto the side of one of the Palace's huge spires. It was a really bloody scene: demonic-like creatures were sprawled all over the ground, torn to shreds from what you could tell. What made you feel faint, however, was the carcuses of angels. What the fuck were angels doing in Hell?

It seemed that a lot of other people were questioning the same exact thing, and Michael, once again announced order from the crowd and the only sound remaining were the hushed whispers.

"It has come to my knowledge that a secret organisation has been founded without my permission. Adam, the first man, and Sera, have been discovered sending down angels every year to kill them." He stopped mid explanation and waved his hand over to an angel that stood close to him. A scroll was placed into Michael's hands, and he unscrolled it and began to read whatever was written onto it.

"According to the words of Sera: Hell has become too overpopulated, and a risk of war could arise. Exterminations have been a necessity, and is, therefore required to keep balance between Good, and Evil." Michael immediately crumpled up the scroll, and threw it back at the poor angel that was beside him to catch.

"This is all tyranny, of course. Me and the Council did not agree to such lunacy, which is why, we are going to have a public vote as to whether or not Sera should be ex-communicated from Heaven."

A loud gasp came from the crowd.

Especially from Molly, who also seemed to begin to tear up.

"That means she'll be thrown to Hell!" she choked back a sob in surprise. Kai patted their girlfriends back to try and sooth her large and soft heart.

You, however, were enraged from the idea of angels going down and killing people. Your beloved Vincent was down there. What if he was killed?!

And like always, your spiral of thoughts was interrupted when Michael began to speak again.

"Just to be absolutely clear, this is never to be discussed with anyone ever again. After the vote is casted, anyone caught discussing this topic will immediately be casted from Paradise, and into the pits of Hell for treachery. I cannot be clear enough."

Murmurs filled the Square as everyone agreed to Michael's proposal.

"Great! Well, everyone better head off to vote now! Have a great day everyone." And like that, he vanished in a cloud of golden smoke.

You didn't realise your jaw was hanging open until Kai mentioned that you looked like a venus-fly trap waiting for a bug to land in your mouth. You clamped it shut instantly and glared at them.

"Chill! It was just supposed to be a joke!" They huffed in faux offence. Molly giggled at her partner's antics, and gently rubbed her fingers in between Kai's fins that decorated their body.

"Calm down, love. We need to head to a voting booth so we can cast votes. I know what I'm voting for."

"Yeah, I can't believe such a thing was happening behind our backs! Who knows how long it has been going on?"

Molly sighed and rubbed her fuzzy face for comfort.

"I don't know, but I hope it wasn't for too long. I believe some of my family is down there."

"Yikes, that's tough. I'm sorry for that." Kai said with sympathy laced in their voice.

You blinked back tears that were forming in your eyes. You would not cry over the possibility that your Vincent was double-dead.

You were strong.

+++

You sighed heavily when you arrived at your small apartment later that evening.

"What a rotten day," you mumbled to yourself. As if on command, your pet land-shark Vark came running into the foyer. You smiled instantly and picked up the little creature and began to pet him between his eyes.

You and Vincent loved sharks. It was a shared passion you both had that made you best friends instantly. When you first got married, you both always joked of getting a shark and naming it Vark.

Well, you had the shark, just not Vincent.

You were thinking about him again, and it was making you feel bad once more.

Why couldn't you remember some things? Who or what was making you forget?

You placed Vark back onto the ground, who of course, whined with the lack of affection from your part. You stepped over the land-shark and headed over to your balcony, that had a perfect view of the Embassy of Heaven. The place you go to whenever you have questions regarding the after-life and anything else.

Maybe there you would find answers.

With a new destination in mind, you grabbed Vark's leash and hooked him up to it. Vark began to wag his tail (well, his fin) in excitement about where you would be taking him. You smiled again at your pet's adorable-ness and began to head back outside once more.

The streets of Heaven were very peaceful. Just about no soul was out and about. It made sense since it was rather late. Around eleven o'clock actually.

Soon, the golden pillars of the Embassy came into view, and you let out a sigh when you realised it was still open. You approached the heavy double doors and swallowed back a scream when they opened up automatically. Vark found it hilarious however, when you just about died a second time from a mini heart attack.

You huffed at your shark and headed inside the golden-themed building and found that it was practically empty. I mean-duh it was empty, it was basically in the middle of the night.

A Cherub, from the looks of it, approached you and gave you a rather judgmental look over.

"Honey, I'm sorry to say this but no pets are allowed." the Cherub said with an irritating tone of voice.

You stared at the flying goat-creature and rolled your eyes.

"Vark, is a service pet. I am afraid you can't throw him out." you lied with a fake smile. One thing that Vincent taught you to do well, was fake things. You were especially good at putting on a fake show. One of the things that, once again, surprised you that Heaven looked over.

Wasn't lying a big sin?

The Cherub interrupted your thoughts when she cleared her throat rather obnoxiously.

"Alright honey. Whatever you say. To what do I owe the pleasure of assisting you with this evening?"

"Oh, well. . .I am not so sure how to explain it." you answered truthfully; slightly cringing at your lack of effort of just telling her.

The Cherub pulled out a clipboard from thin air you assumed (since she most certainly wasn't holding one earlier) and began to scribble something onto it.

"Well, Mr. Heart will be able to assist you with whatever, 'complicated' issue you have got going on." She handed you a piece of paper that had practically illegible handwriting on it, and pointed to a corridor that led to a couple of office rooms.

"Hope you find what you need, honey. Good night." and like that, she sauntered off to what you assumed to be her office. What a weird person, you thought with a click of your tongue.

You began your tread to Mr. Heart's office, and stopped when you reached the door. You lifted your hand to knock but stopped when the door was flung open and a rather energetic angel stepped out of the room.

"Hey there! You must be one of the 'poor souls' Chili sent to me! Come on in!" he moved aside and held a hand out for you to shake, to which he practically tore off yours when he shook it rather rigorously.

"The name is Heart! What's yours m'lady?"

You mumbled your name back and he let out a very loud laugh.

"Why, Mrs. Holland! Quite the pleasure to be meeting you!" 

You nodded your head and held back a gasp when he pulled you by the hand into the office.

"So, tell me what has troubled you enough to venture here so late in the night?"

You opened your mouth to begin speaking, but clamped it down when you couldn't find the right words to say. Damn it, you were nervous. You couldn't, however, pinpoint if it was from the very very close proximity of the Angel, or the lack of knowledge of how to explain your memories being jumbled up.

You could begin by telling the angel to take a few hundred steps back.

"Sorry, but um, could you step back a bit?" You asked with a shaky breath. The Angel smiled with pearly white teeth, but didn't seem to move an inch.

"I can't hear you clearly if I am too far back. It is best if I stay here." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. (or Heaven)

You nodded, even though you doubt that was the truth. You mentally noted to never come back here again once you're down getting some answers.

"So, I have a question." You began.

"Everyone that comes here has questions. But I can't exactly be sure that your question is legal to answer or not."

Your eyes widened in curiosity. Some questions could be illegal to ask? Flashbacks from today's event clouded your thoughts, but you immediately shook them away. A traitor is how you would be viewed if you discussed with anyone about today. And you would be quite foolish to bring it up with an official member of the Council.

"So, you were saying, Mrs. Holland?"

"Why am I not able to remember some things about my life on Earth?" You may as well pull off the bandage and stop dancing around the bush in fear of being judged. Your worries worsened when the Angel's eyes seemed to darken a little.

"Whatever do you mean, darling? What memories?"

"That is the whole point! I know that I can't remember some things! I just don't know what." frustration was very clear in your voice at this point.

Mr. Heart laughed wholeheartedly as if your 'situation' was the funniest thing anyone has ever told him.

"Well my dear, no need to get all fierce with me! I only want to assist you. And it seems that you are treading on very dangerous waters. I would watch out if I were you."

You swear your eyes became fire. How dare he act as if your troubles were something scandalous! Vark began to lick your leg as an attempt to calm you down, which worked for a moment until the 'ever lovable' Mr. Heart reached a hand out and began to rub your shoulders as if he had any right to touch you.

Vark, being the wonderful pet he is, noticed this and bit his leg. The angel howled in pain and kicked your beloved baby and he began to wail in pain. At this point, all you saw was red as you lunged onto the man and began to beat him up with what some people would call a 'mother's fiery.'

Some raised voices from outside of the office eventually joined the chaos of the room, and you were dragged off the very-much battered up Mr. Heart. Well, Mr. Heartless to you.

"Mrs. Holland! How dare you strike a Seraphim! That is considered treachery to the Hierarchy of the Council!" the same Cherub from earlier screeched at you in a high-pitched tone.

"Well I'll be damned! He touched me without consent and kicked my pet! I was defending myself-"

"You lie! One sin after another! How could you!?" you felt yourself being picked up from two service angels, and being dragged to another room, your shark following you right behind.

"Where are you taking me?" You shouted, attempting to pull off the two angels that were holding you roughly.

"We're not taking you anywhere. You are going to be sent somewhere." the Cherub said with a malicious tone of voice. You bit back a sob when the words processed in your head.

They were going to send you to Hell

You eventually approached a door that read 'Employees Only' and met a room that had an arch that took up the entire floor.

The portal to Hell. The place they were going to toss you into for something utterly stupid. How hypocritical of them. Heaven, the place of love and peace? My ass!

The Cherub flew over to a panel on the side of the wall, and loud sirens were heard throughout the room. Hell, you bet the entire 'cloud kingdom' could hear the loud blaring the room was making.

A red coloured portal began to appear on the ground within the structure of the arch. You gulped and felt tears begin to dwell in your eyes.

This was it.

Good-bye Heaven. Good-bye Kai and Molly.

You could hear Vark wailing from the loud noises and you attempted at twisting around to look at him. Your last attempt at begging for your shark's mercy was cut off when you were tossed into the portal.

You fell for a moment.

Then everything went dark.

+++

What awoke you from your 'dreamless sleep' was the feeling of something wet being dragged across your face. You moaned in pain when everything came crashing down on you. Literally.

Your back hurts, your head hurts, hell, even your face hurts.

You opened your eyes and noticed your beloved land-shark was on top of you, licking your face. You didn't feel anything but pure joy at that moment when you realised your shark wasn't going to be left all alone up in Heaven.

"My baby! I thought I wouldn't see you again!" you cried aloud and clutched the shark tightly against your chest. Vark seemed to love the attention and began to get all giddy from your loving embrace.

You pulled away from him after a few minutes, and began to observe the scenery around you. You appeared to be in some sort of alleyway, noting that there was garbage and other things that you didn't care to find out what it was exactly. You stood up slowly, and nearly fell back to the ground when you felt your knees shake.

Damn, you fell hard.

(Not as hard as you fell for Vincent though)

Vark noticed that you were in pain, and began to lick you again as a way of comforting you. You smiled softly and patted his smooth head in reassurance that you would be alright. Vark got the memo, and jumped from your arms. You attempted to stand again, and lent against the wall for support.

"Vark, I need you to do me a small favour." You said with a small voice. Vark wagged his fin and his tongue poked out of his mouth in anticipation for what your next words would be.

"Can you go up ahead and see if there is anyone that can help me? I don't think I'm going to be able to get around."

Vark tilted his head to the side in slight confusion to your words, to which you sighed heavily.

"I'm hurt Vark. I need help." You said a bit more simply. Vark recognised the phrase from when you trained him years ago, and immediately ran around the corner of the alleyway in search of some suitable help.

Who are you kidding? This is Hell. Why would anyone want to help? You sighed and placed your fingers on the bridge of your nose to attempt to relieve some stress that was building up.

What a rotten day.

+++

Minutes turned into hours, and you began to grow weary that something had happened to Vark. That is until you heard the familiar pat pat of Vark's fins.

You looked up from the corner you were hiding in, and noticed a very tall demoness was approaching you with Vark and-was that Molly?

"Oh my gosh! Are you alright?!" The demoness exclaimed with pure worry in her tone. You smiled weakly and shook your head.

"No, I-I'm sorry if I'm a bit of an inconvenience. You see, I was kinda kicked out of Heaven? And I'm injured from falling. . ." You babbled on. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought.

The demoness held a sympathetic gaze in her eyes, and she looked over to her companion who was observing you as if you were an anomaly.

"Wait, you're from Heaven?"

You nodded your head, and the fellow seemed to get all smiley. Why? Who knows.

"That's crazy toots! Ya know, my sister is up there, I wonder if you eveh got to meet 'er."

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I didn't meet much folk up there. I'm not much for socialising."

The spider-like dude nodded his head in understanding.

"'Tis fine, we are all different. Anyway, the name is Angel Dust, and this is her majesty Charlie." He pointed to himself then waved one of his other arms to the blonde demoness, who you now know as Charlie.

She was beaming with complete and utter joy. Why do they both smile so much when they are in the fiery pits of inferno?

"You need to come back with us and tell us EVERYTHING! You could be so helpful for my hotel!" Charlie began, but then immediately stopped once she noticed you were very much lost.

"I'm so sorry for being so direct with you! I'm Charlie, as Angel said. I should've asked if you wanted our help first. I mean, of course you want my help! I mean, do you?" She awkwardly trailed off when she noticed that you were staring at her as if she had grown another head.

Hotel? What does she mean by that?

"What she is trying to ask is if you needed a place to stay?" Angel asked, brushing his hands through his hair (was it hair?) and smoothing it over. His hair (it was definitely not hair but you didn't know what else to call it.) reminded you of Molly, and your heart ached at the thought of Kai and Molly going to your apartment and not finding you there.

You felt tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried hard to not look like you were about to burst into a puddle of sadness and utter hopelessness.

Charlie noticed this, however, and she crouched down to your height and engulfed you with the warmest hug you've ever received in a long time. You felt the dam break, and immediately you began to sob. At this point, you don't even know what you are crying over.

Maybe it's for everything that has happened over the past-decade?

Decades?

You were not entirely sure at this point honestly.

You both eventually entangled each other from the hug, and she offered you a hand to help you up. You took it gratefully, and stood up slowly to prevent yourself from falling back over. Charlie smiled at you softly, to which you grinned back.

"Alright now, are we headin’' back to the Hotel?" Angel asked with a hint of impatience in his voice. Charlie nodded her head, but looked back at you to make sure that is what you wanted. You properly smiled that time, and they both took the answer as 'yes'.

+++

The hotel was nothing like how you imagined. You learned on the trip there that the hotel was a place where sinners dwelled to try and redeem themselves to earn salvation.

That was the most wholesome thing you thought you would ever hear in Hell. There's hope for you yet.

You were currently in the lounge of the hotel, where a lot of 'group activities' took place on a daily basis. You and Vark were on top of a very comfortable couch that was tucked away in a corner. You were honestly so comfy, that you felt yourself dozing off. Until you heard a voice that made you want to rip your ears off.

"Why, hello! I didn't know our beloved Charlie had once again found another unfortunate soul to try out her silly project!"

The man's voice sounded muffled, almost as if he was speaking through some sort of antique microphone from ages ago. You made eye-contact with the looming figure, and noticed he reassembled a deer in a strange and unique way.

Who the Hell was this man? And why is he so-red?

As if he could read your mind, he shoved his hand in your face to shake and practically announced to the hotel who he was.

"The name is Alastor! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" You smile you returned was weak but you still shook his hand, and sighed when you realised he wasn't about to break your hand like the other guy. Mr. Heart or whatever his name was.

That stupid prick. You were mad at him again.

"No need to frown, dear! Smile some more! You're never fully dressed without one!"

This Alastor was starting to get on your nerves. And he seemed to be a staff member of the place, which only meant you would be seeing him a lot. That is if you stayed. Also, his own smile was slightly unnerving. . .not to mention kind of creepy.

"Alastor! Leave the poor girl alone." you heard Charlie call from another part of the lounge. Alastor rolled his eyes before he turned hot on his heels to argue back that he was simply 'introducing' himself.

Whatever, you didn't really care.

You stood up from the couch, Vark following closely, and began to sneak away from the chaos of the Hotel. You eventually found yourself on the sidewalks of the busy street of some part of town.

One thing you noted was how many bright neon lights decorated the sides of buildings and billboards. Vark seemed to be lost in the flashing colours and noises of the advertisements playing on TV's.

There were so many TV's. Which triggered a long lost memory that you never remembered from your time in Heaven.

It was a year or so after you and Vincent got married. He had just landed a job as a news reporter for a small company that was local to your hometown. You were aware that he loved all the new technology that was being released too quickly to follow up on. But you never expected him to one day bring back an extremely expensive TV for your living room.

"Vincent! What on Earth did you get this time?"

He rolled his eyes and rolled a portable box TV into the kitchen for you to examine.

"I got us a TV. It's especially for you so you can watch me when I'm on the afternoon news." He said with a cheeky smile. You chuckled at his antics and headed over to him to give him a hug.

"You're such an attention seeker, and you're also adorable."

He only laughed at that, and hugged you back just as tightly as you.

"Only for you doll, only for you."

The memory faded, and it left you standing idiotically in the middle of the sidewalk. That was new, and not to mention, so heartwarming.

You missed Vincent. A lot. And you were aware you kept thinking about him. Must be because your memories are no longer blocked.

Vark began to bark at an advertisement when you noticed a man with a TV for a head appeared on one of the TV's close to you. He was talking about some sort of security system, but you didn't care. What you did care about was how familiar his grin was to you.

That wasn't a coincidence, was it?

Vark distracted you from your thoughts when he began to run away when the scent of seafood wafted through the air. You out called after him and began to spring after the shark.

How does an animal run so fast with fins?

You once again got lost in your thoughts and didn't notice that you and your runaway shark were headed towards a huge crowd that was forming in front of a building nearby. Vark, being so small, ran in between the demons of all sizes and continued on his way. You were about to do the same until you ran into someone and knocked yourself and the stranger down.

"Woah! Careful where you're running off to!"

"I am so sorry!" You squealed when you realised that you had unintentionally caused a scene. You had landed completely on top of a random person; in front of a huge crowd; and it was the same man with the TV head.

Ah, what luck you had. Your thoughts were cut off when the TV headed man began to look you up and down, which made you very...uncomfortable? But his gaze felt familiar, as if instinct was telling you you knew this strange man.

"I feel like I've seen you before, do I know you?" He began, but you cut him off when you scrambled to your feet when you noticed Vark returned to you with some fish in his mouth. Or what you assumed was fish.

"Vark! You are in so much trouble!" You announced, bending over to pick up the mischievous land-shark that has caused oh-so-many problems with you today.

You heard people around you murmur, to which you raised your brow to, but decided to ignore. You turned back around to again apologise to the man you so rudely knocked over, but found him staring at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky.

What was his deal?

You heard him mumble your name, which definitely made you jump a bit.

"What was that?"

He rushed over to you instantly and immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you into the building the crowd was forming around, completely ignoring all the commotion that began to arise outside.

You both eventually reached a secluded corridor, and you found yourself standing in close proximity with the man.

Who even is he? And what the fuck gave him the right to drag you around like a doll?

He called your name again, and you felt his hands gently cup your cheeks. You met his artificial gaze, and you all but gasped when it all finally clicked.

Vincent Holland. Your long lost and beloved husband.

"V-Vincent?" You stammered, completely bewildered that you had somehow found him in a city with millions of people. Maybe luck was truly on your side finally.

"H-how?" You started, but got cut off when a pair of digital lips met yours in a sweet kiss. Your eyes widened in shock: you were kissing a TV. But this was also your husband. (Who had a screen for a head somehow…)

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, humming softly when he began to bite and suck at your lips. You pulled away, however, when Vark began to cry from the lack of your attention.

"Vark! Stop it!" you scolded him. Vincent chuckled at the interaction to which you raised a brow.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing. I also have a land-shark named Vark." he stated as if it were the most obvious thing. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes, doll. I got him as soon as I found out you could have one. And I named him Vark because, well, we always joked about it."

You smiled so sweetly at this. You and Vincent coincidently having a pet shark and naming them the same was just too heartwarming to you. You pulled him back into another kiss, to which Vincent welcomed whole-heartedly.

You pulled away after a minute when your lungs burned for air, and noticed Vincent was staring at you adoringly.

"What is it?" You asked.

"I thought I would never see you again. You don't know how much I've missed you. I looked for you everywhere as soon as I was able to to it safely. Even though it didn't happen as fast as I wanted, I knew I would always find you." he whispered. He kissed your head gently, which you leaned into slightly.

You felt your heart ache a little, when you realised that he probably didn't get to live in an oblivious bliss to your absence. A perk of living in Heaven, you supposed, was the lack of memory of anything that could make you wish the fiery pits of Inferno.

"Me too Vincent, me too. I'm so glad that I found you again." you placed your forehead against his (screen), and shared a loving embrace.

You and your beloved Vincent, was once again, united. 

i finally looked over it, and part one of the prologue is up. if there is any mistakes i didnt catch, feel free to let me know!

also, i love vark. he carries this story ngl.

But I still will because this story felt very. . .rushed. even though it's so DAMN LONG HOLY SHIT.

-will

[houseofzoey]

World-Building

This is the first book in which we officially meet Death as a separate entity from Nyx. We still know NOTHING about her. What does she look like? Can she, like Nyx, alter her image to suit whoever she is appearing before? What is her actual role? Thanatos' death is the only time we've seen Death escort someone to the afterlife, and the process is also wildly different - Thanatos doesn't leave a body behind. So did Thanatos go somewhere different than Nyx' Realm, where it's already been well-established that you can't bring your physical body? Also, who aside from Thanatos knows of Death? Does she have worshippers? What does that worship look like?

This leads to questions about Nyxism as a pantheon. Like, first of all, is it a pantheon? Obviously Death exists as a separate godly entity, but we have no idea what her role is in the broader cosmology or if she's even worshipped. Are there other, non-Nyx deities aside from Death? Are these deities known and worshipped? Because up until Death was introduced, every goddess or revered female figure from other religions was actually just Nyx in another guise. So why is Death different? And are there any other deities distinct from Nyx? If there are, they must not be particularly well-known, important, or worshipped, because we've never heard of them.

What is the point of Thanatos' affinity? We see numerous deaths that she isn't present for, and as far as we know, those spirits make their way to the Otherworld unassisted. We also know that Zoey can perform the exact same duty by casting a circle. So what exactly is the point of having a "High Priestess of Death", and why does everyone treat it like a big deal?

Kalona says there are different realms. What are they? Where are they? How does this work? How can Kalona move from one realm to the next? Does Nyx have power over all these realms? Are these different layers of the same reality, or completely different dimensions of existence?

If love is antithetical to evil, the power of love can defeat evil, and Darkness is the embodiment of evil, how is Neferet's relationship with her tendrils possible? Neferet loves them as a mother loves her children, and the tendrils love her in return. Neferet is evil and the tendrils are Darkness. By the logic and philosophy of this series, they shouldn't be capable of love. Or is it only romantic love that's so powerful and important? If that's the case, then the arc words of "love, always love" as part of Nyxist philosophy takes on a different meaning. It also indicates that Nyx loving vampyres as her children is not so powerful or meaningful, if familial love is indeed a lesser force than romantic love.

Why was Lynette able to pass through the protection spell to enter the Mayo? She was returning to the Mayo with the specific intent of serving Neferet, aiding her in committing horrific acts of violence and supporting her reign of terror to avoid being possessed. That's ill intent through and through.

When Neferet tried commanding Darkness to kill Zoey in Destined, she needed a sacrifice of equal value to a High Priestess. Neferet provides no such sacrifice in the climax; all the people she killed in the Mayo were to strengthen herself and her tendrils so they could break through the protection spell. So how was Neferet able to command Darkness to attack Zoey directly with intent to kill?

Why would breaking the circle kill Zoey? That's never been a risk before. It's not even if the circle is broken while she's casting a specific spell - just having the circle set at all while confronting Neferet could mean she dies if it's broken.

Because Stark is Zoey's Warrior, Thanatos can't give him orders, despite her being in a position of authority over Zoey. Why can't Thanatos order Zoey around on matters pertaining to her Warrior? Given the importance of Priestesses having Oath Sworn Warriors, how large a portion of the Sons of Erebus is answering to lesser Priestesses instead of the school's High Priestess or Sword Master? How does this work when there is actual conflict and the Warriors need to step up to defend their grounds or fight off a threat?

How does the power of the land boost a protective spell based in fire? Wouldn't it make more sense for it to be boosted by the sun? That would certainly create an interesting obstacle and greater sense of tension around casting and maintaining the spell.

Because Zoey is Cherokee and the reincarnation of A-ya, she is the embodiment of Oklahoma earth and its Old Magick... despite Cherokee not being indigenous to Oklahoma. Moreover, Cherokee people did not historically abide by contemporary state boundaries, so the concept of a Cherokee person being the embodiment of a specific state's earth is absolute nonsense. It also doesn't really matter to the climax. Zoey calls upon the elements (her actual affinity), the Great Earth Mother (Nyx), and Old Magick (a nonsentient force that she can tap into with the Seer Stone) to push Neferet into the grotto. There's no reason for her to call on her Cherokee heritage to do so - literally none of this magic is related to the Cherokee.

[viridiansworld]

Chapter 2: Cat & Mouse

Collateral Damage Masterlist

Pairing: Changbin x Original Character [Rory] x Lee Know

Includes: Underground Crime Member Changbin, vigilante original AFAB main character, antihero district attorney Lee Minho

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of criminal behavior (theft & robbery), angst, mentions of knife & gun violence, tattooing

He thought he was covert. Parking his motorcycle down the street in an alley. It had been 5 days since the incident at the museum and the last 3 nights he had been watching me. Or more like watching my building. From 10 pm till about midnight he kept tabs on me. Only watching, never confronting me. I wondered if tonight would be the same.

"If he dies I'm coming for you alley cat." his words running through my mind again. I was still living and breathing so his friend must be ok, right? So why only watch me?

I sat in the open window straddling the window seal. One leg inside with my foot resting on the hardwood and one leg outside with my foot rested on the old metal safety barrier. I leaned back against the window frame behind me and took a deep breath. The sounds of night life in my old neighborhood drifting through the air.

I had figured if Batman wanted to spy I should give him a show. Make it easier for him. Let him have me in clear view if he wanted to watch. As much as I wanted to be curled up in bed in sweats, messing around on my phone, I opted for jeans and a leather jacket. Waiting to see what tonight brought.

The familiar roar of his bike could be heard at around midnight telling me that another night had come and gone and he was heading out. Little did he know, tonight was going to be different.

I waited until he had driven past my apartment and down the street. I quickly slipped down my fire escape fetching my street bike parked below. I whipped on my helmet and floored it, peeling away from the curb. I didn't have any plan aside from catching up to him. After that I had no idea what I was doing.

My street bike ate up the asphalt in front of it, it's roar echoed off the buildings around me. I had lost sight of his bike, he could have turned off anywhere and been lost to me. If he had, then I guess I'd wait till tomorrow, assuming he'd come back to watch me and I'd try again. Lost in my thoughts the sudden rush of another bike speeding past me caught me off guard. It was him on his lean, loud rumbling Harley.

Even with our faces hidden I could tell he was scanning me up and down. I was doing the same to him. His tight black tshirt hugged his body and showcased the ink that ran down his muscled left arm. His ragged, worn jeans perfectly hugged the strong thighs that straddled his bike. He reved his engine and sped forward, snapping me out of my thoughts and leaving me staring at his back.

"Alright, let's play." I huffed under my breath as I shifted gears and gunned it.

We played a game of cat and mouse weaving through the city, I didn't know where we were going or what the hell we were doing, but I went with it. I knew we couldn't do this all night long so after a while I decided to take the lead. My bike was faster, hands down either way, and I knew just the place to go with him following me.

Every so often I'd check my mirrors to make sure he was still behind me. He was always there, weaving in an out of the city traffic. My destination was in reach and he had to know exactly where we were going. I sped up leaving him stuck at a light giving me a lead in the race. When the place I was looking for came into view I quickly braked and parked my bike right in front of the brick building. The red neon lights from the Wonderland bar across the street cast a warm glow on me as I pulled my helmet off awaiting the arrival of my sudo "partner in crime". I could tell my hair was a hot mess since I had hurriedly put my helmet on and chased after the biker. I tossed my hair a few times to try and even out it's chaos as the rumble of his bike was heard coming down the street.

He came into view and he slowed down, lazily taking his time as his bike rolled up to park in front of the shop right beside me. His heavy boots hit the asphalt, balancing him and the bike in place as he turned his head to look me over in person.

"Nice place you got here ." I spoke smoothly.

He put his kickstand down and dismounted his bike. I got a wonderful view in the process. His thighs flexing in those sinful jeans. He pulled his helmet off. It was almost unfair how good looking he was. He smiled and shook his head, a dimple popping up in his right cheek.

"So the alley cat can hunt too...full of surprises." He walked to the front door of the building as he sifted through his key ring.

"I'm assuming your friend Ji is ok since I'm not currently dead?" I stayed rooted where I was but turned to face him.

He found the right key and put it in the lock, opening the door. "Yeah, he's alive and kicking. Maybe the idiot will stay in the van next time instead of picking knife fights." He pulled the door open, motioning for me to go in. "Ladies first." He smirked.

I walked past the front windows of the shop decorated with scrolling font. 'Broken Compass Tattoo' it read across the top with an elaborate compass underneath. Identical to the one I saw the other night that was tattooed on his neck.

It was what led me to connect the shop to him. Sort of by accident, because I knew the area pretty well but I had known his tattoo was familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. That is until I was driving by the other day and almost all but wrecked my bike when I recognized the compass. After Yeji did some digging, it was easy to confirm a Jisung that was affiliated with the business, as well as a Changbin and several other people.

I walked into the dark shop, feeling his presence behind me as he let the door shut. He locked it, securing us both inside.

"A little reminiscent of our first night, hm?" He hovered against my back as he spoke, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. Standing in the dark, senses heightened, adrenaline coursing through each of our veins. Same as in the museum.

"Brings back so many pleasant memories Batman." I breathed out.

He chuckled before walked around me and turning on the lights that lit up the lobby area. They had a small reception desk and a cozy leather sectional in the corner. He sat his helmet on the reception desk as he breezed by.

"Come on back." He said as he flipped on another set of lights and walked deeper into the shop. They lit up the rest of the place, revealing low dividers that separated several tattoo booths. I followed him, placing my helmet on the desk beside his before continuing in his footsteps. I was on edge and at ease all at the same time. I felt unsure of this guy because I knew nothing about him outside of what the Yeji could find, which wasn't much, and somehow I felt comfortable with him.

"Take a seat." he motioned to the tattoo table in the last booth on the left. I sat on the table and crossed my ankles.

"Do you have any tattoos?" He asked as he sat down in a roller chair that was in the corner.

"A few." I peeled my jacket off and laid it beside me. My tank top underneath exposing my half sleeve tattooed on my arm. "Looks like you have a couple yourself." I leaned back supporting myself with my hands.

"A few." He joked, "Nothing too crazy though." Moving to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He was looking at the ground for a moment before he tilted his head up, some stray hairs had fallen in his face and he raked his hand through his hair trying to tame the medium length dark locks.

"I'm assuming you know my real name if you know my shop. Care to share your name with me?" His eyes danced with mischief as he prodded for information.

"I certainly enjoy calling you batman but it is nice to know your name...Changbin, you're telling me you haven't figured out my name yet?" The smirk on my face had to kill him. Being bested didn't sit well with him at all.

He shook his head and bit his bottom lip before he spoke. "Well Jisung is the hacker. He's down for the count recovering, no thanks to you, so I'm at an unfair disadvantage."

"I would like to point out that he pulled a gun on me first." I leaned forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table now "and then also he was the one who charged at me while I was holding a knife- definitely shouldn't let him out of the van ever again- and let's face it, I was just trying to get out of there. You guys crashed MY job." I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms.

"And what about your damsel in distress bullshit you pulled with me?" He scoffed

"First off, I am no damsel. But I certainly needed you to think I was so you would let your guard down." I uncrossed my arms and shrugged, "I hope your head didn't hurt too much after that roundhouse kick." Man I loved pushing his buttons. "And secondly don't tell me you didn't like being on top of me. Having me pinned to the ground. I'm sure that fed your ego. Or maybe when the guard came walking by did you enjoy feeling like the big strong man protecting me?" I made a fake crying motion of rubbing my eyes as I mocked him.

If looks could kill, his stare would have killed me right on the spot. Silence was shared between for a long moment before he spoke. "What if you were the one who liked it?" His voice deep with a hint of gravel to it.

"Oh you wish, big boy." I scoffed.

"Play your games all you want." Venom in his words. "I know you stole that diamond out from under me and hell I even let you get away with it. But only..." His voice softened, no venom to the words that followed, "Only because you tried to help Jisung."

I decided to stare at the walls. Give the staring contest with Batman a break. My eyes roamed the artwork that was on the walls for a moment before I spoke again.

"I stole it fair and square. I was better than you. You're just too macho to admit you got beat."

"Whatever you wanna tell yourself alley cat." His smooth drawl was almost cruel with how sexy it was.

The room was quiet again, the hum of an air conditioner was all that could be heard. I scanned the walls some more, taking in artwork that was plastered in the walls of the neighboring booth. When I scanned back across to Changbins booth I found him yet again staring at me. Unreadable eyes.

"I'll tell you my name on one condition." I finally spoke, an idea having crept up in my mind.

"And what would that be?" his interest peaked.

"You let me tattoo you-"

"Tattoo me?" He cut me off holding up a hand. "You're crazy."

"Yes." I said flatly. "I am crazy but if you let me tattoo you, anywhere I see fit, I'll tell you my name...and no one knows my name except me, my boss, and my back up. You should feel honored I even offer."

He sat there for a moment thinking it over, but soon a smirk crossed his face and he shook his head. He stood, heading to the counter where he started getting things out of the drawers and making a setup on the rolling tray nearby. He didn't have to say yes to the proposition, he was obviously on board. He got the tattoo gun set up and finished laying everything out.

"Is this your first time?" He turned to ask as he set the box of gloves on the counter nearby.

"No, I'm not a virgin." I cut my eyes at him playfully.

He almost dropped the bottle of ink that he had just picked up. "I-I'm talking about tattooing!" He stammered.

"So am I Changbin, jeez what a dirty mind you have." Our eyes met and I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. The satisfaction that teasing him gave me was intoxicating.

"Forget it!" He quickly turned away getting back to filling the tiny ink cup up. I didn't say anything back, only laughed to myself because this was way too fun.

"That's everything. I only gave you black. Nothing fancy, ok?" He said as he wheeled the tray over in my direction. I got up off the table and examined everything he had put together.

"Don't worry, that's fine. Take a seat for me." I instructed and motioned to the tattoo table I had just gotten up from. He looked at me a little apprehensively but complied, sitting at the end of the table just like I had been.

A little theatric anticipation building never hurt anybody, so I walked around the table slowly. I made a full circle round before I rested my butt against the counter in front of him, debating what location I should choose for his tattoo. Changbin watched my every move and I wasn't complaining. Having power over a handsome specimen such as him was quite euphoric. I moved to slide the tray closer to the table as I made my final decision on the location I wanted.

"Lay back for me." I said. He eased back, leaving his legs hanging from the knees down at the end of the table. Once he was comfortable he laced his hands together across his broad chest waiting to see what else I was going to say or do. "I think......Here." I pointed. "You got some free real estate here?"

Changbin looked down to see where I was pointing. He paused, eyebrows shooting up as if to say 'are you serious?' I returned his look with a slight nod and a smile. We were about to get acquainted very well and on a whole new level.

He laid his head back with a huff and began to undo his belt. Next was the button and the zipper of his jeans. He raised his left hip ever so slightly to tug them and the waistband of his briefs down just enough to reveal the smooth bare skin that would soon be marked by me.

"No ink down here yet I see." I sassed at him as I grabbed a pair of gloves from the box and began to prep his skin. He didn't reply back but i could see him worrying his bottom lip the entire time. He put his arms behind his head and damn it almost made me forget how to breath as the sleeves of his tshirt rode up on his arms revealing more of the muscles he obviously worked hard for. The lower half of his stomach was more exposed now too. A soft happy trail leading down into the delicious V that was literally right in front of me. I thought picking this spot would be funny but somehow I had only managed to flip the script and turn myself on.

Clearing my mind of my dirty thoughts I finished prepping his skin. I nudged the rolling stool over to the table with my foot so I could sit and start tattooing but I had a thought. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm letting you tattoo my crotch if that says anything."

"It's not your crotch!" I complained jokingly "It's your hip. And I take that as a yes you do trust me." I laughed. "Care if I get cozy?"

"Cozy?" He tilted his head up to see what I meant.

Sitting on the rolling stool I wheeled myself right between his legs. I grabbed the tattoo gun and rested my arms on each of his upper thighs. My chest flush to his crotch.

"This kind of cozy " I quipped, smirking at him.

He swallowed hard. "You're mad you know that?"

"I'm not the one letting a stranger tattoo them!"

"I-...Just get it over with." He groaned, resigned to be at my mercy. I tested the weight of the tattoo gun in my hand. I tested the foot pedal, the feel of the gun and the speed of the needle, all before I finally felt ready to start my art project. It had been a minute since I tattooed somebody but it was sort of like riding a bike, right? Once you learn you never forget.

Scooching up as close as possible I rested my left hand on his lower stomach to steady myself as I tattooed with my right hand. I dipped the needle in ink and then got to work. In less than 3 minutes I was done with the line work and sat the gun down. He popped his head up being curious. "No peeking!" I scolded. So he laid back down with a grunt.

I grabbed the green soap and a towel to clean the small mess of black ink on his hip. The cool feeling of the soap made him jump which I couldn't help but chuckle at. This man really had let me mark his hip with anything I wanted.

"Alright...you can look." I said softly. Honestly a little nervous. I slid the chair back just a bit but I was still sitting right between his legs. I peeled the gloves off and chucked them in the trash bin to my right as I waited for his reaction.

He sat up, only looking at me first, apprehensive of what he was about to find. Our proximity to each other very intimate but I don't think either of us minded. He leaned back on one arm, holding his shirt to his stomach with the other to keep it from blocking his veiw. He stared down for only a moment at his hip before a chuckle racked his body. No bigger than a quarter, I had put the outline of 2 cat ears, a nose, and added 3 whiskers on each side. A cat.

"Alley cat." Was all he said as a stunning smile flashed across his face as he admired his new tattoo.

"Or you can call me Rory." I spoke up, clearing my throat. He immediately looked at me almost like he had forgotten that was what all of this was for.

"Rory..." He repeated, seeing how it felt on his tongue. He move his right foot behind me and used his heel to push the stool, along with me on it, back closer to him. A small gasp of surprise escaped me. Being trapped between his thighs wasn't a bad place to be at all. I let my hands rest on them, not backing down from his advances. The intense eye contact making my skin heat.

He leaned down, "Nice to meet you Rory." Was all he said before he captured my lips in a breathy kiss and snaked his hand into my hair.

Next Chapter>>>

A/N: I realized this week my Christmas Changbin one shot I have posted to my page is also a Tattoo Changbin story💀 now it's been almost 2 years since i posted that one but ...like damn, I'm really exposing myself here with the tattoo kink💀 hahahaha

Anywayyyyy, enjoy! Thanks for reading! ♡

[lacie-crying-ruby]

Of the Fool

"To make it easier for everyone and myself, let's just say I hate everyone equally."

-

He wasn't going to go back. Didn't matter what had happened, didn't matter if the world was going to stop turning or freeze over and burn down afterwards, he didn't care!

He wasn't going back.

Leaving the northern lands of the demon realm was never a nice thing to accomplish, bothersome even on his best days.

This obviously wasn't one of them.

Having been severely injured, insulted and screamed at, it was an understatement to say that Shang Qinghua was feeling like shit now.

-

The system popped up in front of him again, right as he somehow managed to roll away from another wave of definitely deadly ice crustals.

[Want to go back host?]

Shang Qinghua pushed the [accept] bottom on the screen.

-

It didn't quite turn out like he wanted to

[Custumor has unlocked the final destination route. Where does customer like to go?]

"Home!"

[Understood. Customer is returning to where he belongs.]

"This isn't-"

[Custumer perhaps misunderstood. The place where customer really belongs naturally is in that of the creator.]

"But this means-"

[Congratulations! Creator finally has taken his righteous place as a fallen god! Congratulation! Congratulation! From now on, creator has obtained the halo he was wishing for all this time!]

"This is... Actually, this is awesome, I love it. Yes! I deserve that halo! I deserve to be acknowledged for all the work I do! Let's see if anyone dares to hit me now!"

-

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

[Customer has unlocked the secret route. Naturally, to not mess up timelines, Customer was send back to the original timeline. Customer is allowed to do as he pleases from here on, this system is merely going to act as a guide if questions arise.]

"Can I go back again?"

[System dosen't understand why customer would though. Didn't customer hate his first experience? In here customer can indulge in all of his fantasies to his heart's content.]

-

[Does Costumer want to switch timelines?]

"I want to get out!"

[Friendly reminder that Customer has powers to defend himself-]

"Get me out, get me away from here, take me away!"

[Understood. Proceed into change of time.]

-

"What..."

[System made sure to pick a timeline in which no one would dare to hit customer once he made it clear that he is not to be hit.]

"This is Mobei-Jun as a child!"

[A child is weak and can't hit or threaten you. Customer has no reason to be scared of a pathetic little child, so there is no need for customer to be afraid anymore.]

-

"What is he doing here?!"

[Because he became the vessel for a god before his time came, Shang Qinghua has become deserving of full-filling his heart's biggest desire: To kill the one who betrayed him.]

"The Shang Qinghua who became a vessel didn't even get to have the mind to desire! I was born as him!"

[System acknowledges this and therefore chose the one who has desires to be rewarded for.

-

"You've started to become nice to me.

"Why are you doing this? What goal do you crave?"

"Honestly? I took a look at every other candidate for the throne of the northern lands and made the sad conclusion that you're by far the best fucking shot this time has to offer."

"Are you starting to get scared of me? Don't be. I won't betray you unless you do so first."

"Those are quite the words for a little prince. You lied to me once already. Don't forget that."

-

"Are you a god?"

"You just try to repay my kindness with betrayal and violence, see where that get's you."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Good. Because I don't like traitors. You are going to live and work hard to stay alive."

-

"Well, I guess we will have to make a king out of you. By all means, don't do something stupid and die, alright?"

-

"Don't you dare!"

"He killed me! It was by his hand I died! After everything I did for him!"

"After you tried to kill him!"

"Only after he caused that much chaos! For what would I need a rabid dog as a king?"

"That's not what happened!"

"That's exactly what happened! So much got destroyed, and still that fool would continue to play to his stupid sick father's whims instead of finally-"

"Shut up! Shut up!"

"Fine, you are angry because your sheming didn't get you anywhere and everything you ever worked for went horribly wrong! Fine! I get it, welcome to my life! But that was then, this is now and this is a child! And we already used all that to get him out of the certain-death situation!"

"Yes, so that I could kill him myself!"

"No killing of children!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!"

"I didn't want to know that!" ... "We won't do that!"

But then, surprisingly, the evil SH lowered his sword. "Whatever you say goes, your highness."

"Good. Now- now we will have to find a way to get this one back to safety."

"Let's just leave him here. If this world is still yours, then he will be found any moment now."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Just that the one finding him should be someone who isn't going to immediately kill him."

"You should trust more in your powers."

"I don't do it on principle."

[rynnaaurelius]

hylla ramirez-arellano, drew tanaka and frank zhang for the made up lore ask game! :D

(Made-up lore ask game is HERE)

Everything is under the cut because this post got long. Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do justice, and this was fun as hell.

1. Hylla Ramirez-Arellano

*Note: I dislike Hylla and Reyna's canon backstory/relationship with their father for multiple reasons, so if anything here seems a bit weird, know that usually I put that part of canon through the shredder when thinking about Hylla and Reyna. I'm trying to keep things plausibly canon, but here we go.

Also, there's hints at world-building about the Amazons here, mostly because I refuse to conflate them with Jeff Bezos.

-Hylla began dreaming about Circe long before their father died. Of a mythical paradise, offering safety and power to a teenage girl who dreamed of so much more than staying home forever. Like her sister Reyna, Hylla was incredibly ambitious with inclinations to lead, but she had wanderlust in her blood that Reyna didn't. The conqueror's ambition, not that of the steward.

-Which was why, after the death of their father Julian, Hylla took Reyna, and, against Bellona's explicit advice to leave their home and go to San Francisco, she went to the Sea of Monsters, following the advice of Circe in her dreams.

-Reyna was traumatized and only half-aware of exactly what had happened to result in Julian's death. Hylla knew that if they went to America and joined the legion, her sister would only face more violence. Circe offered sanctuary and a chance for Hylla to learn what she needed to in order to protect her little sister.

-While incredibly controlling of them both, Circe kept her promises. During those years on the sorcereress's island, Hylla learned magic and stories of gods and monsters long forgotten by many demigods.

-Which is, of course, when Percy Jackson happened. The destruction of the island, Circe's death, escaping the clutches of pirates then the sisters adrift and Hylla struggling to figure out what to do next.

-Then Reyna began to dream of the wolf goddess. And the two girls, at Reyna's insistence, made their way to California.

-I'm not sure whether this is explicitly canon, one way or another, but I do firmly believe that Hylla came with Reyna to Wolf House, with every intention of eventually joining the legion alongside her sister.

-Lupa had other plans. Traveling together with Reyna, who, against Hylla's every effort to shelter her, was coming into their own as they fought monsters across the country, increasingly argued over what to do next, the sisters' relationship had begun to strain under both of them having extremely similar, strong personalities. Both of them were destined for leadership. Both of them would want to shape the legion in extremely different ways. Both of them would lead the Twelfth into civil war.

-But Reyna, no matter how much she may not understand Hylla at times, will not leave the only family she has left. So Lupa goes to Hylla and tells her, for both of them to live, to be safe, Hylla needs to leave Reyna behind. That the legion will protect her.

-And so she sends Hylla to the Amazons. In the process, Hylla and Reyna part on. . .not great terms.

-There, Hylla is an initial outcast. A Roman demigod, child of a goddess of war or no, and with no connections, no one to stand by her in a group dominated by Greeks, she struggles to assert herself.

-So, of course, she ends up running the fucking place. She befriends Kinzie, a fellow outcast for being the daughter of a river nymph and someone with little interest in the blade or arrow, she befriends [Redacted names of OCs before I go on an Amazon world-building rant].

-Then war comes. And the current queen of the Amazons makes it very clear that she is interested in what Kronos has to say.

-So Hylla, alongside Kinzie and those she's gathered as loyal to her, in order to protect New Rome from potential Amazon incursion, knowing that even if she challenged the current queen and won, no one would listen to a girl who the Greeks have no interest in obeying, does what she must.

-She finds the lost golden belt of Hippolyta, challenges the current queen for the right to the throne, and wins.

-The Titanomachy passes. There is, briefly, peace. Then Otrera returns. Then Percy Jackson returns, pleading to help her save Reyna, and all of Hylla's ghosts have returned.

-Hylla understands, when she is able to take a step back, that Percy and Annabeth were perfectly justified in destroying Circe's island. But was it worth shielding losing her home? Was it worth losing the ability to protect Reyna from their destiny as children of war, from Reyna being dragged before a Roman court for a murder that was for the sake of the victim as much as Reyna and Hylla's lives?

-Even after the war, she has no fondness for him. She's fond of Hazel, though, between the shared magic gifts and Hazel's ability to ride Arion. Gives her a standing offer to join the Amazons.

-After the war, Hylla has a string of boyfriends and girlfriends before finally figuring things out and riding off into the sunset with Kinzie.

2. Drew Tanaka

Note: Requisite warning that I dance dangerously close to non-canon here.

-Drew knew what Silena was doing.

-. . .okay, to be fair, most of Cabin Ten that had been there for more than, like, three days, knew what Silena was doing. Drew just happened to know more than most.

-But let's back up a second: Her father was an animation artist who had drawn the eye of the goddess of love, who had only been sent to camp after accidentally charmspeaking their landlord into not making them pay rent for six months when she was eight.

-The dracaenae showed up the next week. That's when Drew found out that she was a lot of things. A fighter? Nope. Her father was left hospitalized and she was swiftly bundled off by a satyr to Camp Half-Blood.

-From there, Drew quickly found herself being shoved into a box: The helpless, airheaded child of Aphrodite. No more scribbling in the margins of her father's work, no more smeared charcoal over her hands as he patiently teaches her how to write in his first language, how to draw an arm, no more harmless chatter with her classmates as they guess who likes who (Oh, they don't like that here. Not from her).

-More than that, she's the child of Aphrodite who couldn't be trusted. Even Silena Beauregard, gold, lovely just-competent-enough perfect Silena Beauregard, didn't have charmspeak as powerful as Drew. Drew, who was the mean little girl who just wanted to go home, and was struggling to control a power that everyone at camp looked down on with disdain at best, a terrifying fear in their eyes at worst.

-No one's going to blink twice twice if you say the new Aphrodite girl made you do it. The children of Aphrodite can't fight, everyone knows that. The children of Aphrodite just care about dying pretty, everyone knows that. Drew made the Stolls walk into the lake the day after her claiming, just because she could, everyone knows that.

(Silena died a hero for the good guys. Everyone would know that)

(Drew knew everyone knew that)

-It fell on Silena to help Drew control her charmspeak, to look at Drew and see what she would be. To tell her to remember that no matter what anyone said, she had power, and to use it carefully. To watch everyone around her and look out for her siblings, no matter the cost, and no matter how long it took Mom to turn around and see.

-The children of Aphrodite knew that.

-Now, it's war against the Titans. The mockery is less often but all the more intense, because Drew is so-so with a sword, slightly better with knives, and a lost cause with the bow. So she does what Silena taught her to do, before ever opening her mouth: she listens.

-And oh, does she hear. She hears the unclaimed, wasting away in Cabin Eleven, dying for parents who won't even acknowledge their children before death. She hears the claimed, lonely and buckling and dying.

-She hears her big sister working to end the war. Just not in favor of Olympus.

-In fairness, it doesn't take her skill and the empathic abilities of a child of Aphrodite to know that. You just have to know to look.

-And Drew turns a blind eye. Because her sister is working to save them. The only one in camp who has never looked at Drew with pity or fear, is working to protect her siblings, to stop the death. Unlike the vaunted children of Athena, the proud children of Ares, the clever children of Hermes--Silena sees. And she's doing something.

-Silena dies. Silena dies for camp.

-Drew, it turns out, can fight after all. At least, she can in the name of her dead sister.

-The war ends. Percy Jackson makes a promise that may make Silena's death worth it, not completely destroy Drew's sister's legacy.

-Then Percy Jackson disappears. And as the Battle of Manhattan becomes more of a ghost than a tangible presence at camp, Drew listens to everyone talk about her sister.

-"It was all Luke. Silena didn't know what she doing when she agreed to do it. She made the right choice in the end, even if she was a daughter of Aphrodite. You can't trust them to know what to do."

-Because, Drew knew, that was the problem. They couldn't admit exactly how Silena was able to deal so much damage. No one could admit that sweet, silly daughter of Aphrodite Silena Beauregard was able to bat her eyelashes and flick her hair and extract every promise of protection she needed from Luke Castellan. To get every battle plan ever made from beloved geniuses Annabeth Chase and Malcolm Pace and Clarisse La Rue.

-A child of Aphrodite playing them all for fools? One of camp's narcissists and cowards (and whores), running around and none of them suspecting jackshit? That Silena was well-aware that she was being used, and made her choices anyway? Nah.

-Silena was a hero, one who made the right choices, who died heroically. The innocent, kind girl manipulated by awful Luke Castellan who wasn't at all responsible for lives shattered and leaving destruction in her wake, who saw her own boyfriend die in it, and let her tears fall across a closed mouth. Absolutely not.

-So, really. When all is said and done, is it that unreasonable that Drew had her cabin close ranks? That unable to grieve anyone other than a shiny lie, she embraced being the camp bitch? if she's going to be remembered as that, fine: She wants it.

-Here is the lesson Drew was taught, years ago when she was being blamed for every little crime in camp, and the only people she could be around was her siblings. This is the truth of a child of Aphrodite: Might as well be hated for something you've actually done (Better than to be loved for something you never did).

And so, when all is said and done: Can you blame someone for not being Piper McLean's biggest fan, when she professed to know the truth of being one of Aphrodite's children better than Drew Tanaka?

3. Frank Zhang

Note: I'm incapable of being strictly canon, so again, some of this comes close to incompatible with canon.

-Okay. I get why Frank is from British Columbia. I really, actually do.

(It's for geographical reasons. BC is right in the path of the Alaska quest, so it's very easy for the Son of Neptune trio to visit his home)

-But also, Frank is Québécois. Emily's parents chose to live in Montreal, and came back to British Columbia, back to Frank's grandma, when Emily enlisted and was going to go on tour.

-This is mostly because A, I'm a great believer in polyglot Frank Zhang, and B, the unparalleled hilarity of him speaking to Hazel, her panicking because what the fuck happened to French while she was dead, and then they meet Piper and realize, nah, Québécois French is just Like That.

(Also, BC is really fucking English Canadian province, and there's not much linguistic reason for Hazel to be confused by his French unless either her French is a dialect extremely specific to where she lived, e.g: Black 1930s neighborhood in New Orleans, or Frank learned Québécois French, and that's a dialect specific to Quebec, halfway across the fucking country--plus, there's not much reasons for him to learn it when he's already learning Mandarin or Cantonese at home, in addition to English at school, and BC has a large enough East Asian immigrant population that it's very likely his grandma might've had him learning it in class)

(Can you tell that my family's Canadian yet?)

-Anyway. I firmly believe that Frank was a little arsonist when he was younger.

-Not, like, anything law-breaking, because he was a small child trying to make his grandma and mom proud, but he was a seven-year-old very interested in what Makes Things Go Boom. And that meant fire, and furthermore, his family all having massive heart attacks every time he came near a fire, because Stick.

-He was very careful! As careful as someone his age could be. Very orderly experiments, but small child and fire do not mix.

-So they tried to re-direct this into something less inclined to end in near-death experiences, and that meant archery. Frank really took to it, and started winning prizes in competitions.

(he wasn't particularly inclined to, but the Mars heritage meant that Frank was a pretty dab hand at just about any weapon or fighting style he decided to study. He just really liked the bow)

-Frank got bullied in school for being fat and someone who easily cries (Because we project here, folks). This lasted until he realized that other people were getting bullied, and his grandma advised him to be a dragon to protect them.

-This is absolutely why he turns into a dragon at the beginning of MoA to protect Piper and Jason. It's the spirit of the thing.

-Actually, on the whole, Frank has a pretty happy pre-Camp Jupiter childhood. His family periodically argues over whether they should tell him about his heritage before he turns eighteen/Emily potentially dies, but it's a relatively normal one, considering where he lives in somewhere able to protect him from monsters.

-Then his mom dies. His mom dies, halfway across the world, in the name of a war that part of Frank's subconscious has disdainful feelings towards, and everything in his life shatters.

-His grandma tells him about his father, the day of the funeral, when he asks why he can't be bothered to come and pay his respects.

-So Frank goes to Camp Jupiter, and is. . .more than a little miserable, to be honest. He wants to do things. He wants to meet his father.

-He wants to not think about his mom, when he's in San Francisco and alone.

-Frank's grandmother did tell him, the day he left for Camp Jupiter: What is, is, Fai. You can embrace the pain in, acknowledge why it exists, or you can deny it and have it consume you. Accept it and wield it for Rome.

-The whole ancestor-may-have-done-a-natural-disaster thing puts a damper in any aspirations he has within the legion, when he's working to not get executed or harassed over it (Of course, Frank has, uh, questions. About what kind of heritage would be responsible for that. These guys aren't a big fan of Neptune and Frank has enough problems).

-It might be for the best, to be honest. Because he meets Hazel, who's nervous smile is infectious, who seems ready to jump if Frank were to say boo.

-He doesn't, of course. He might say so to some of the people who keep staring at Hazel like she's a ghost, though.

-Grief, Frank finds, isn't helpful. But it's knowledgeable. He sees the ghost of Jason Grace, of the strange way everyone stares at Hazel, brave Hazel who saves his life from the stampeding herd of unicorns, Hazel who looks at Scipio, Reyna's Pegasus with longing she doesn't look like she thinks she deserves to have, and isn't afraid.

-It's hard to be afraid of death, when it's alongside you every day in the form of his mother's ring and a dinky little stick.

(After Alaska, after meeting Percy Jackson, after meeting Nico di Angelo and Jason Grace and witnessing how hard those two can brood, Frank finds that it's easier to jerk Percy out of his moods, where he stares out at the world like he believes the sky will fall if Percy sits down, if he asks, badly-hidden smirk tugging at his mouth, if he's allowed legacy membership into the Greek Big Three Angst Club)

(He tells Nico that Percy assigned him death-cousin babysitting to prevent said brooding, after he and Annabeth fall into Tartarus, and the bark of laughter let out by the son of Hades makes half the Argo II's crew jump)

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 1

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ 

Warnings: Smut, violence, flashbacks of past sexual assault, descriptions of torture and racial slurs

This story will contain spoilers for FATWS, and a few spoilers about Black Widow. This is not a Tony Stark friendly story.

I hope everyone enjoys the story :)

Pairings: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, Clint/Laura, and Sam/Sharon. Tony/Pepper, (mentioned only).

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a mystery woman, he starts to realize maybe his past isn't too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14

The Novosibirsk HYDRA base had been abandoned for at least a few years, but it had been in use recently. The rooms were vacant of any dust, something that James Buchanan Barnes noticed as he surveyed the building that had once been his former home as the Winter Soldier. He couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. He had insisted that the bodies of the five Winter Soldiers be given a burial. Plenty of the Avengers had backed him up when Tony had refused to do so. Anything that was of use had been taken away as evidence against HYDRA, seeing as they had been rebuilding their empire. Bucky couldn't help but remember Zola's words. "Cut off one head, two more shall take its place," the recording of Zola had said gleefully. Bucky had shot the machine to pieces in case the AI had planned on blowing them up. He was just about to leave when he found a file disregarded in one of the rooms that were used for medical use. It was mostly written in a mixture of Russian, Belarusian and Ukrainian. Before he could really take a look at it, though, a voice called out. "Bucky, you ready to go?" Sam asked quietly. He nodded and put the file in his backpack, before leaving the room. They joined the others, who were also ready to leave, and made their way to the quinjet.

The young woman's dark hazel eyes snapped open as she was awakened from her sleep. She looked around the room wearily, wondering where her handlers were and if they had fled? It had been so long… She couldn't remember for how long she had been, however…but the last thing she recalled was being taken away to have her mind wiped. If that was the case, then it had been 2016. What had happened since then? Suddenly, she heard a quinjet starting up above the base. She needed to board that plane, before HYDRA returned. That was her way out. That had to be. Quickly, she started running up the stairs, shielding her eyes from the blizzard, and shivered slightly. However, not even the cold could stop her from climbing onto this machine somehow. She found a back door hatchet in the quinjet, before climbing inside and locking the hatch. She made her way to the lower deck, before seeing a flash of red hair. Her eyes narrowed as she hid, but flashes of her mind came back to her. She knew that hair colour, but she couldn't remember who had it. Damn it. She sighed, before settling down, and prepared to get to her next destination.

Bucky sighed in relief when they landed at the Avengers Facility, but grimaced at the weather forecast. The news reporter said that it would be the coldest March on record and advised people to stay at home until the storm passed. He intended on going to his apartment, have a much needed warm shower and then watch the baseball game with Steve, Sam and Clint tonight. He was going to spoil Alpine. He loved the white fluffy cat that he'd rescued from the streets. He went downstairs to get his backpack when he noticed that it hadn't been where he had put it. He frowned, looking around and shrugged. It wasn't like there was anything important in there from before, but maybe he had left it at the base? No, that didn't make any sense. He lets out a soft sigh and glances away, turning back towards the facility. "Hey," he hears from before, feeling himself smile as Steve emerged, his brow raised. "What's going on? We got a whole pizza in here for you." Bucky snorts. "I don't need that much food." "Debatable," Steve states, chuckling lightly. "But you, okay? You look like you've seen a ghost?" "Eh…think I'm just seeing things." Bucky nods towards the base. "Come on. I'll take a slice and then we head back. We gotta get shelter before this storm hits." Steve nods, pushing him forward gently. "Now that sounds like a plan."

The young woman waits until everyone was gone and the voices had stopped, and only then did she allow herself to emerge from the cargo section of the quinjet, moving as quickly as possible. Jesus Christ, it was cold here too. Why couldn't they have flown to somewhere warm. She glances up at the giant "A" that sat atop this building, and with a start, she realizes that it was an Avengers base. Out of every damn place she could have flown to… You know what? It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting some form of clothing and getting clean. She quickly heads in, taking quick glances around to make sure no one was there. Strangely, there was no one around. But she had a feeling it was most likely because they were in a meeting of some sorts. Great. That gave her the perfect timing. The young woman moves as fast as she could through the halls, looking around, trying to pinpoint out the one spot that she so desperately wanted. And there, near the end, it was. A door with the label 'shower rooms.' She practically groans in pleasure before racing inside, locking the door behind her so she could be alone. While she would like to enjoy this shower as long as possible, she knew her time was limited. So today, it would only be for the basics. As soon as the water had turned warm, she stripped herself of her clothes and stepped in. She always had a regimen, even something she could remember with her fuddled head. Hair, face, body. Those three steps to get it done as soon as possible. And that was exactly what she did, watching as the dirt and grime began to roll of her body in waves. By the end of the shower, the drain was clogged. But hey, it wasn't her problem. And now she smelt of lilacs, so it was even better. She steps out and grabs a towel, unlocking the door and glancing out. There had to be rooms or something here with clothes of some sort. Maybe something she could change into. She had stolen a backpack from someone – maybe that could work. Quickly now, she runs across the hallways to what seemed to be bedrooms, cursing the ones that were locked and then finally finding a few that were open. As she steps inside, she pillages the drawers, finding some jeans, shirts, pajamas, underwear – the whole nine yards. Yes, this was a goldmine. The next couple of rooms seem to have the same amount of clothing, which she steals from as well. Usually, she was never one to just take people's belongings. That was always her caretaker’s orders. If she put one toe out of line, well…that was that. It was the end. But now, her caretakers weren't here. She could do whatever she wanted. And that meant this. As soon as she had changed into some clothes and stuffed several other pieces in the backpack she took, she grabbed some shoes and put them on, heading towards the hallway once more and then racing out. Thank God that this meeting was going on long enough. When she exited the building, she did see plenty of vehicles, waiting to be used. Maybe she could hot-wire a car of some sorts? But as she walked up to a motorcycle, she feels herself smile. Whoever had driven this left the keys in it. "Dumb fuck," she mutters, before getting on and straddling it as quickly as possible. She gives a mock salute to the base before taking off, leaving this area behind.

"What exactly did you find at the base?" Fury asks, his brow furrowed. "All I see here are some old techs that don't quite work anymore. You said this meeting was for something important." "It is, sir," Sam says. "Bucky found this." He brings over the folder that Bucky had found. "He didn't have the time to read it while in the quinjet, but I did, and what's in there is…real fucked up. I don't know if this is going on anymore but…. just read it." Fury takes the file with interest, putting it under a projector so they all could see what was inside.

The file detailed a program called the Black Widow Ops Program that began in the 1950's. It took orphaned young girls as young as five years old to be trained at the Red Room Academy, which was located in the Maryina Horka Forest in Belarus. "The Red Room has ties to an agency called Leviathan. Leviathan is a Soviet deep science and espionage agency. S.H.I.E.L.D had a run in with one of their operatives - a woman called Dottie Underwood. The Leviathan program was shut down in 1963 but the Red Room was already functioning," Steve explained quietly, his voice grim. Fury flipped through the file, his face turning grave at every turn of the file. Everyone at the table was given a copy. Most of the names were crossed out, having died during missions or from training. Bucky glanced at the names, recognizing a few of them. Polina, Irina, Viktoriya, Zorya, Natasha and Yelena. There was another name, but it had been redacted. "All of the people on this list are dead aside from me, Melina, Yelena and Alexei. We shut down the Red Room once and for all after Taskmaster, along with Lukin, restarted the program in 2016. We destroyed the building, and all the girls were killed or had died," Natasha said firmly, her face giving away nothing. He knew better though. She and Yelena were hiding something. "How can you be so sure, Romanoff?" Tony asked snidely, glaring over at her from where he sat next to Bruce and Rhodey. He had been acting like an ass since the Decimation had been reversed. "Because we killed all of them, Stark. They were too dangerous to be allowed to live. Something that the Soldat would know," Yelena answered coldly, her brown eyes flicking briefly towards Bucky. "Don't you dare bring her up, Yelena! You don't have the right to mention her and neither do you Natalia!" Bucky said dangerously. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the room. Steve gave Yelena a look of disappointment while Sam ignored her, and both went to check on Bucky. Wanda followed shortly after, with Billy Russo and Grant Ward leaving as well. "We'll continue this meeting in the morning, everyone. Next time, Yelena, I suggest keeping your mouth shut," Fury said warningly, before leaving with his leather coat billowing behind him as he walked out the door. Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Kate and Yelena were the only ones left in the conference room. An uncomfortable silence hung over them. Clint was the first to say what Bruce and Kate were thinking. "Did you really have to bring up Bucky's past, Yelena? For Christ's sake, he's been through enough. I get that you're mad at him for beating Alexei, but it's not his fault that Alexei got sent to prison!" Clint said angrily, before leaving. Kate left with him. Bruce shook his head. He liked Bucky and didn't understand why Natasha and Yelena harbored so much distrust towards him. Tony hated the man and refused to let him stay at the facility.

Bucky had gone to the garage to get his bike. He just wanted to get away from this place. He knew he wasn't welcome at the compound, but neither was Steve, Sam, Clint, or Wanda for still agreeing with Steve on the accords to an extent. No matter how hard he tried, people were still afraid of him. Some even said on Twitter that Tony should have killed him in Siberia when his arm had been blown off. He sighed heavily, before starting up the engine and drove out of the garage, making his way home. It doesn't take long, thankfully, since they were so close to the city. He parked outside his apartment, heading up the stairs before opening the door and being greeted by Alpine. The fluffy white cat purred at seeing him. He crouched down to stroke him tenderly behind the ear. The cat purred loudly before he locked the door and went to wash his bowl. After finishing that, he gave Alpine fresh water and fresh food and biscuits. He smiled as he watched Alpine eat happily, before turning on the TV and started cooking dinner. "You don't deserve to be an Avenger, you murderer!" Tony had snarled at him when Fury announced Bucky was being added to the team. All he could did now was prove all of them that he did deserve to be an Avenger. It was all he could do. He made sure to text Sam and Stave that he was alright. He didn't want to burden Steve and Sam, or Clint and Wanda. They were good to him, along with Yori and Leah, even though Yori knew it was him that had killed his son.

Anastasia had dumped the bike at the nearest garage before going to a long-abandoned HYDRA safe house in the Upper West Side. She checked to see if anyone had been there lately, but luckily, no one had ever checked the place out. She took off the black leather jacket before checking the office and logged into the computer. She typed in the password, relieved when it was correct and was greeted with a very large amount of money. "You were a bastard, Pierce. I fucking hated you, but at least you didn't lose the money after all this time," she remarked coldly, before deciding to make her way to Madripoor, converting the money to cash just as quickly through the machine. It was probably the safest place for her, considering that the Avengers would soon find out that the HYDRA safe house had been slept in and the money was gone. She counted the notes carefully, stunned that she had over 4.29 million dollars in cash. She intended on donating some of the money though to a few charities that she genuinely liked. The Red Room and HYDRA had always hated how she was still soft despite the brutal training they put her through. Not to mention the days of starvation and having broken bones from sparring sessions.

Natasha had gone to her room to have a shower and get changed into more comfortable clothing, only to realize that some of her clothes were missing. Namely one of her black leather jackets was missing along with a pair of her size seven black combat boots. Did Yelena or Wanda take her clothes? Her brow furrows before she moves outside. "Wanda?" She calls out as she sees the Avenger pass her. She looks up as she does. "Did you take any of my clothes?" Wanda's brow furrows before she shakes her head. "No, not at all. Is your stuff missing?" "Stuff from me is missing too," Yelena says, emerging from her room. "Couple of my shirts." "Huh," Natasha mutters before turning to Wanda. "Sorry for bothering you. Think we might have just misplaced stuff." Wanda smiles a bit. "We all do that sometimes." She waves bye to her as she heads back towards her room, but as soon as she had moved around the other side of the hallway, Natasha pulls Yelena into her room, before closing the door behind her. Instantly, Yelena's eyes turn to her. "What's going on?" "You and I both know what I'm thinking," she says lowly. "Why do we think that our clothes are missing?" "Could just be some kid who broke in." "Come on, some kid can't break into an Avenger's base," Natasha chastises. "Barely anyone knows where this place is unless told…it had to be someone who had tailed us back all the way from…you know where." Yelena's eyes widen a bit. "You don't think-" "We didn't see anyone there but…but what if? There might have been someone who has escaped the HYDRA base when we left and is now just…roaming around New York City. How else would our clothes be missing? They must have stolen them to get clean and then taken off." Yelena bites her lip and then nods her head slowly. "It does make sense." "Fury," she says quietly, bringing Yelena's attention back to her. "There are hidden cameras in the hallways. We could ask him for security access to see who it was." "Fury isn't really in my good graces right now," Yelena mutters.

"It doesn't matter. If the safety of our organization is at stake, he will let you go through his cameras. He'll go down for SHIELD, you know this." She glances towards the door. "We need to try and take care of this. As soon as possible." Yelena nods, sighing. "I know…I know."

She had to admit that New York City was nice. It had been years since she had been to this place, only with the intention of missions, and even then, she could hardly remember what it was like. But with the money she did have now, she might as well buy a few things before she was on her way to Madripoor. As she walks into a tiny coffee shop that seemed to be below an apartment building, she asks quietly for a cup of coffee black and two cookies – might as well get some good stuff in her prior to a long flight. "What's the name?" The barista asks politely. For a moment, she froze. Her name brought back so many painful memories. So many that she wanted to forget. She hated even thinking of her time in that spiteful, horrible prison. So, she makes a change, right here and now. "Ana," she says softly. "It's Ana." The barista nods, writing her name down on a cup. There, a refreshing new start. She was no longer Anastasia. She was Ana. Fair and square, no ifs ands or buts. She wasn't going to be HYDRA's puppet anymore…even if her memory wasn't the same. She moves to take a seat over in the corner, waiting patiently for her food and drink to be done. In the meantime, she saw someone else come in, a man that looked to be slightly older than her but not by much. He had a jacket and gloves covering his hands. She had to admit he was quite handsome, but the last thing on her mind was to get infatuated with a random stranger. Quietly, she listens to his order, what seemed to be a sweeter coffee with a cookie as well, but then he reaches into his wallet and is unable to produce the money for the second item. He sighs and only pays for the coffee, going to sit down. She glances over at him as she hears her name called. "Ana!" Quickly she gets up, grabbing her hot coffee before looking over at the man, quietly glancing down at his phone. If she wanted to start new, she'd start new. She heads over to where he sits, and he looks up at her in surprise. "I…know you don't know me, but I overheard you and-I'm not good with this, just here." Ana gently lowers the cookie onto the table, and a kind smile comes over his lips before he looks up at her. "You didn't have to do that." Ana shrugs lightly. "I heard about the storm that's going to be happening soon…we all gotta look out for each other, right?" She asks. He chuckles a bit and nods. "Indeed, we do…wish others saw it that way." He looks back up at her, his brow furrowed. She tilts her head. "I'm sorry, you…you just look familiar." "Strange…quite sure I've never met you," she chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of her head. "I must sound so weird," he states, shaking his head. "It's okay," she responds lightly, but she had to admit inwardly the stranger did have a nice smile. A part of her wanted to sit down and talk with him more but she knew she had a flight to catch. "But enjoy the cookie, stranger. I have to get out of here. Stay warm." He offers another smile to her. "You too." Ana smiles at him before heading out the door, holding onto her bag tightly and her coffee in the other hand. For a second, she pauses, glancing back at the coffee shop. Strange…he felt familiar too. But that was impossible. The only person she ever knew was long gone…or at least she thought he was. Maybe she was just crazy. Yeah, she was crazy. Ana shakes her head and quickly heads back towards the street, whistling out for a cab. It was time she got out of this town.

"It's nine at night," Wanda mutters, angrily coming into the briefing room with the other Avengers. "What is it that you all could need at this hour? We're supposed to be resting for the upcoming mission." Fury sighs as everyone takes a seat. "We got a big problem – wait, where's Barnes?" "Who cares?" Tony mutters. Steve glares at him before sighing at Fury. "Bucky went home after the incident this afternoon." "Goddammit – get his ass back here. We can start then. And Yelena – keep your mouth shut!" Yelena rolls her eyes but nods, crossing her arms against her chest. Steve grabs his phone, quickly making the call to Bucky. And hopefully, he wouldn't face the wrath of the Winter Soldier when he returned back here. Thankfully, the snow hadn't started yet but soon enough they'd be snowed in.

"Really?" Bucky asks as he comes in, his brow furrowed. "I literally just settled down to relax." "Sit your whiny ass down," Fury states, gesturing to the spot next to Steve, which he does. "Now that everyone is here, I didn't want to wake you all up or bring you in for nothing. We've had an issue here at the compound. Something that all of you need to be aware of." At that moment, he pulls up what seems to be security came footage, and there in the hallways was a girl.

tag list: @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @sapphirescrolls , @americasass81​ @marvelfansworld , @connie326 , @joannaliceevans-fanficblog , @queenoftheunderdark @navybrat817 and @threeminutesoflife , @lex-the-flex, @world-of-aus, @avintagekiss24 and @the-soulofdevil, @gogolucky13 and @kenzieam and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

[c-is-for-circinate]

Post-ep 123 Reaction

Wow, y’all.  What a ride.

You know, I used to do these after every single CR episode.  Every single one, 2 AM, exhausted and dazed, trying to pour out smart thinky thoughts onto tumblr because I’d be so overflowing with ideas and feelings.

I haven’t so much, lately, and I think part of that is just the fact that I have not been enjoying this Aeor arc.  I’ve hated the traveling along with Lucien in a way that’s made it unpleasant to watch, instead of fun.  (For me, personally!  Many people have been enjoying the tension, and I know the players have been enjoying the tension, and that’s fine!  Yay for them!)  Some of the ancient ruins explorations, too, have gotten just a little too creepy-horror-game for sitting alone in my apartment at one in the morning.  I’ve had less to say.  I’ve wanted to say it less.

And that’s not true tonight.  I can’t remember the last time I got excited about a CR episode like I was tonight.  Oh, there’ve been bits and moments I loved all throughout, there always are, that’s why I’m still watching live even in an arc that hasn’t thrilled me, but I loved the whole episode today, all five and a half hours of it, and god that feels good.

So in celebration, some specific bullet points:

The start of the episode, the discovery of the eyes on Beau and Caleb.  The attempts at science.  The fear, and yet, also, the glimmers of...okay but what if we could use this?  (The moment in the second half, after the Tombtakers ran off, when Beau suggests going into her dreams to ask for help to find them--yes.  Yes.  I still don’t have a lot of interest in evil wizard plotlines when you doom yourself/the world/etc out of curiosity, but the willingness to dive into this terrifying thing that might change you, might break you, because you need what it can give you in order to save a thing you love (your friends, the world) more than you need to be whole or sane or even, necessarily, alive--that is my GOOD SHIT.)     

Guys, I just loved every single minute of that white dragon fight, okay?  It was such a mess.  It was such a mess!  And look, there’s a very specific kind of frenetic energy that the table gets when they find themselves in the middle of a terrifying boss battle, and there’s a different very specific kind of wild ‘this may as well happen’ energy they get when things go terribly wrong entirely due to random chance, and getting the compound of both of those things at once is always glorious.  Nobody is prepared for anything!  Everybody is freaking out!  There’s good reason to suspect that, even if someone dies a bit, everyone’s going to make it out alive, but shit’s wild in the middle there and it’s just such a joy to watch.     

Likewise, I know that final fight was really stressful for both the cast and a lot of viewers, but honestly in so many ways I watched it feeling so much less stressed than the past few weeks have made me?  Yes, it was a horrible, horrible fight, the team in so far over their heads, so low on sleep and spells and any resources at all.  But, god, thank god, at least it was finally over.  There’s no going back to fake amity with the Tombtakers after this, no more playing along and trying to plot treason while the person you’re plotting against is probably hearing every word.  Enemies can be faced!  They can be fought, or fled, or defeated, they can be destroyed or put off for another day, but at least nobody’s pretending any more while trapped in wary uncertain fear of their own houseguests.  At least now it’s done.     

The fucking Iron Shepherds parallels.  Just.  Yes. I have hated the trapped feelings of traveling alongside Lucien and his crew, but the Iron Shepherds parallels are, while stab-me-in-the-heart painful, so fucking good.  The very best moments with Lucien have been the ones that mimic Mollymauk, not even because they bring hope that Molly could come back to us someday (although that’s there, that faint shimmering thread), but because it is always the best, worst, most glorious twist of irony. Molly died trying to save his friends, saving his friends, from the violence of a monster who was so very like him in all the ways he was terrified to know.  Lorenzo and his ragtag group of multiclassed minions, full of loyalty, arrogance, unexpected powers, here to torture and enslave.  The Nein have more power now, a little more negotiated control, they are different--but so much of it is just window-dressing as they’ve been dragged along on this pell-mell journey against their will, told when to walk and when to sleep, headed towards a place they would’ve gone anyway at the behest of someone they really do not give a shit about any more.  It’s so much the same. And the thing that is beautiful, and the thing that I love, the one thing for which I do love Lucien, is just--god, the irony.  The irony!  Because it’s not just that Lucien is like Lorenzo, that Molly turns out to be like the man that killed him after all; it’s not just Lucien, all unknowing, rebuilding old grudges and replaying old scenes without even knowing them.  It’s the fact that Molly’s death is the only reason this can happen in the first place. Mollymauk Tealeaf, murdered and buried, wanting only to protect his teammates from a megalomaniacal killer--sacrificing himself on a hope and a chance that maybe, maybe, he and his friends could all survive, and they’d all be fucked anyway if he didn’t--he died to do it.  And it worked.  They were safe, for a little while, for long enough to rescue Jester and Yasha and Fjord.  Long enough to keep going, to leave part of the world better than they found it, to canonize him in his own way.  Except now here they are again, worse and deeper into the same shit than ever before, and it never could have been like this if Molly had survived.  He derailed Lorenzo long enough to save them then, and created the forward path for the Lucien they’re facing now. It’s terrible.  It’s beautiful.  And that’s some damn good storytelling.

The start of the next episode is going to be very very hard for the Nein!  In so many ways, they’re back exactly where they were episodes ago when they first started traveling with Lucien’s crew to begin with: one threshhold crest in their possession, beat to hell and almost entirely out of spells, exhausted, in desperate need of a long rest, with a probably-pursuing enemy that doesn’t seem inclined to let them have one.  It’s as untenable now as it was then.

They have so much more knowledge now (was it worth it?).  They have their own connection to the city now (will it cost them more than they’ve gained?).  Maybe they have a direction.  Probably they’ve got options.  They’ve got an angel, an owl, a wooly mammoth, and a destination.  Maybe, if they’re very fast and very lucky, maybe, if Caleb uses a teleport spell or they somehow manage to navigate through the snow in their exhaustion with all their luck, they’ll make it to Essek in time to collapse almost safely.  They’ve needed backup so badly.  They’ve needed someone, anyone, to keep them safe for just a few hours so they can plan, and think, and sleep.

And they’ve been so busy trying to play nice, giving in to their fear, trying to avoid the fight they just dove into (with half the team exhausted and half their spell slots gone!), that they haven’t let themselves go and get those things.  And now they’re out the other side of that fight.  Now they know, just a bit more, what Lucien and his team are made of.

Now they can finally, maybe, maybe, start finding ways to take back their own control instead of keeling over with the fear.  I hope.  I hope, I hope, I hope.

[hellhoundsprey]

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

a/b/o dynamics, omega!dean, beta!cas, doctor!cas, alpha!sam, always female sam, jealousy, violence, claiming bites, mentioned mpreg, implied past rape

~

~

Sam doesn’t try to evade the punch. No: she welcomes it.

The sound is as nauseating as it is satisfying. It’s Dean who ends up yelping. Castiel winces from a not-so-safe distance.

“You happy?! Huh?!” Dean cradles his hand. Sam remains apathetic until the blood shoots up her sinuses. She chokes, covers her mouth. Leans away to spit, and her nose looks broken, and Castiel tells them so, and Dean says, gravelly: “Good.”

Castiel tends to both siblings. The misery in Sam’s scent doesn’t quite outpower her general satisfaction over what she’s done. Castiel clenches his teeth and finishes patching her up. Clean break. Her face swells rapidly.

“You know I had to do it,” the Alpha repeats, her huge hand careful on Castiel’s healthy arm—he flinches, regardless. Sam blinks. A little girl in there, somewhere. From ages ago. Tender, if she chooses to be. “They would have sniffed it out. I had to.”

Just because Sam is right doesn’t make it right.

Dean continues to withdraw. Barely responds, refuses to drink. It’s ninety degrees in the car and Castiel has to climb into the back with the Omega to hook him up with another IV. Sam keeps facing the steering wheel, but her eyes do flicker to the rearview an awful lot.

If Dean’s body could, it would wind out and away from every touch. Castiel can’t omit much from his already-careful ministrations. There is only so much space he can give Dean, now. Even if they do make it to their destination tonight, forcing Dean push through will be a gamble with his life.

They make it. Castiel grabs his bags and gives the Jeep a last, grateful pat on the overheated hood before they leave it behind. The stolen plates they don’t bother to take with them.

The border patrol gives them an understandably curious look. Castiel smacks their passports down onto the narrow surface in front of their window.

“We got mugged. Please proceed. He needs medical attention.”

The patrol’s eyes switch back and forth between the papers and Sam and Dean. The weak whistle whenever Dean manages a breath, the steel of Sam’s eyes, her posture. Dean’s limp arm over her shoulders, her hold—on him. Carrying, like Castiel had done, back at the house. Ages ago, it feels like, instead of the actual twenty-something hours. Castiel nods at Sam, and Sam doesn’t nod back, but they get their passports and they continue, and nobody stops them.

Castiel’s contacts arranged everything as discussed. Sam is visibly taken aback, but she doesn’t address Castiel until after they put Dean to bed, until after Castiel set him up as best he could to ensure Dean makes it through the night. When he turns to stand, Sam is already there, waiting. In the door frame, her arms crossed. She took her jacket off, finally. They lock eyes, and Castiel can tell the Alpha isn’t out for a fight, not now, and he can only hope it’ll stay that way. At least until Dean is conscious again. Or, better yet: stable.

“Sorry about your arm,” she says, in the kitchen, trailing him. Water. Food. They should eat. Castiel searches the cabinets for something quick and substantial. “I’m real sorry, man. I’ve never… I had no idea I could get like that. Seriously.”

Castiel turns to face Sam. She cringes, seems to hold onto her arms more than keeping them crossed. Her left eye is swollen so bad she must barely be able to see out of it. Part of Castiel delights for the sight.

It’s dark, blue. Deep night, faint music from a tourist dive bar across the street. Terracotta tiles. Like a vacation home, because it is. Was. Is, sometimes, when it’s not used for situations like—theirs. Now.

“What you did was incredibly stupid. You almost killed him. I fear less about my arm than about the risk you obviously pose to your own brother, Sam.”

Sam winces. She seems smaller, now, with all her fuses blown, with her brother marked and barely-alive in a bed behind an ajar door but at least he’s safe, at least they—made it this far. Castiel caves, frowns; puts down the cans of food. They should sleep. They should all just—sleep.

“What—were you thinking? I had it all set up, we were gonna give him suppressors, pheromones, it wasn’t—Christ, you’re his sister, not his—”

“I had to.” Castiel stares, but Sam just keeps shaking her head, staring back. “I had to, doc, I… When I saw him, caught his scent again, I knew I—I’m not taking any more chances. I’m just not.”

Castiel sighs. He frowns down at the cans, gestures. Sleep. Eat. You don’t have to think. In fact, you can’t, so what’s the point? “Would you help me with this, please?” he asks, and the Alpha’s rigid stare dips a little softer with it. She steps in as Castiel steps back to lean against the kitchen counter, to drag his healthy hand down his face. Sleep. Just this, then you can sleep. “I can’t exactly—do it with one hand. … Thank you.”

The sleep Castiel finds that night is shallow, but it suffices in making him clear enough to look after Dean like Dean needs. Castiel moves quietly on habit. Sam snores through her broken nose on the floor next to the bed on the side where Castiel is not working. She took off her boots at some point, her jeans. Dragged a sheet and a pillow from a linen closet, because Castiel on the couch surely didn’t notice. Castiel counts Dean’s heartbeats. He exchanges the IV bag and the bedpan. When he returns with the washed-out latter, Sam is awake, sitting on the bed. Holding Dean’s hand, the bruised one. Castiel narrows his eyes and proceeds with his care. Sam doesn’t try to interfere.

“Move, please,” Castiel says. Sam just looks at him. Castiel points at the bandages Sam’s thumbs are skirting around oh-so-carefully. “I need to change the dressing. Yours, too, while I’m at it.”

Sam suffers, but she only moans about it a tiny bit, fully aware that this is of her own making. Broken noses are nasty, though. Castiel hands her something for the headache. She swallows it dry without hesitation.

“You are very much alike, I will give you that.”

“Yeah. I mean, he raised me, basically.” Sam nods, still drowsy with sleep. If Castiel asked, she might fix them a round of coffee. “After Mom died, and then after Dad disappeared…it was just us. We only had each other.”

“‘Disappeared’?”

“Loan sharks.”

Castiel deflates, nods. He sits back down with Sam, runs his hand back over his head, his messy, grimy hair. He looks back at Dean. Sam does, too.

“When Michael came and found us, when he saw—Dean, it was a done deal. Was supposed to be about paying back, he said, at first, but Dean never came back, so I figured.” In Castiel’s peripheral, Sam nods. Slow, deep in thought. In memories. Dean’s face is perfectly motionless in his sleep. A false peacefulness, but a peacefulness at last. “I searched, but I never came up with anything. Nothing. Not one hint where they were. So, eventually, I thought: okay, I’ll go into law, I’ll find sources and contacts, and I’ll… And now, he’s just—here.” She blinks, fascinated. She again holds Dean’s hand in hers. “It’s crazy. I never thought I’d…”

She doesn’t continue. She doesn’t have to.

~

Everything takes Dean time. More time than he’d like. Sam has to actively hold him down when Castiel breaks it to him that no, he can’t stand up yet. Dean likes that even less.

“Are you kidding?! Why did you get me out of that damn hole if I can’t even use my own fucking LEGS now?!”

Castiel warns, “You will fall and you will hurt yourself,” and Dean proves his point once they leave him to calm down. He growls, snarls. Feral, a fox with a beartrap on its leg, and as useless as Castiel’s, “Dean, please be logical about this,” is, Sam’s open-handed slap to Dean’s cheek is effective.

Castiel flinches; gawps. Stares at Sam, who is calm, pinched; and Dean is shocked too but he stops arguing, at last. Lets them haul him back into bed, still obviously angry and denying any further conversation or contact, but there is no other accident when Castiel and Sam leave once more. The lack of remorse in Sam’s scent sours Castiel. He’s never—siblings, for Christ’s sake. Orphans, left to their own devices, but—this is mayhem. As if Dean hadn’t gotten his fill with Michael already.

In the kitchen, subdued but pressing: “You will stop disciplining him in that way. I will not allow it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I—Jesus, girl, he was locked in a cell, for years, by a pathological sadist! What else do you have to know in order to NOT press every single one of his trauma response buttons?! Jesus Christ—” Castiel paces to the kitchen counter. He doesn’t put much care into being tender with the coffee machine. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you Winchester lot sure goddamn know how to be fucking sensible.”

[holden-norgorov]

Everything we know about Amalia True so far

Spoilers of the first 4 episodes of The Nevers under the cut.

On August 3rd, 1896 she attempted to commit suicide by drowning herself and was Touched right after. It's still unclear whether she actually succeeded at it, with the Touch transferring an alien consciousness inside her lifeless body and completely taking over her, or whether the Touch awakened also her previous consciousness back to life and her body is now hosting two different sentient beings.

She seems to always be sleeping on the floor, in the same exact spot and position.

Her known Turn is Ripplings, which grant her the ability to see glimpses into the future. We know not every Rippling she experiences actually comes true (e.g. Maladie assaulting her on the balcony of the theatre in E01) and that her Turn seems to be connected to a sort of hand tic whose actual purpose is still unclear (it may vary from being just a way for the character to handle anxiety/PTSD, or to stay in touch with the present while seeing the future, to being a way through which she can actually control when to have Ripplings or even what to see). It's also still quite unclear whether she can prevent her Ripplings from coming true at all (in E04, she decides not to bring Desiree to Massen's mansion just because her Rippling showed her she was going there alone, even though bringing Desiree was clearly the smartest thing to do - or at least, that's what the writing wanted us to draw from it).

She knows at least Chinese, Russian and Turkish enough to grasp that Myrtle is speaking those languages.

She is a skilled fighter in hand-to-hand combat and she's also likely an expert on weaponry.

She tells the Beggar King that "this isn't her real face" while he's holding a blade to her cheek.

She can tell Massen has a past in the military just by looking in his eyes.

"Trouble makes her troublesome". It's likely she finds some kind of solace/catharsis in violence because "she knows where she is during a fight", while her PTSD, her Turn and her unique position as someone who was "left behind" with an unclear mission to accomplish probably make her feel constantly stripped of control. ("You think anything here has to do with what I wish?", E03).

She knows Mary is the Voice of the Galan-.

She admits she isn't from "here" and that the city's maps (as they are in the present, at least) are incomprehensible to her.

Before the Touch, she was a baker and had a husband who was a butcher. Her husband died in unmentioned circumstances some time before 1899. It's also hinted at during E02 that her husband might have been abusive or violent towards her (it's clear that she is also thinking about herself while talking to Mundi about Maladie being a victim of abuse and mingling pain with pleasure).

She is referred to by Maladie as "the woman who sheds her skin". Amalia asks if she was talking about her dress at the Opera, and Maladie replies that she is talking about her relationships. It's unclear whether this reference might also contain another meaning (more literal perhaps) that we still ignore.

She is called "Molly" by Maladie. It's still unclear whether Molly is just a short nickname for Amalia that Maladie gave her when they were friends (which would mean that Maladie knows her only as Amalia) or whether Molly is the actual identity she knows her as (maybe her real name from where/when they come from).

She shares a background with Maladie and knows her as "Sarah". She had to do a difficult choice and it's implied that said choice "created Maladie". She also states that her mission apparently doesn't need either herself or Maladie, but needs both Mary and Penance. We know Mary is the Voice of the Galan-, while Penance may be destined to create something important with her Turn (maybe rebuilding the Ship)? Still, Amalia is careful to shoot both herself and Maladie in such a way as to avoid for the wounds to be fatal. This might indicate that she was just gaining time for Mundi to arrive, and that Maladie is also needed for the mission (we'll have to see if Amalia is going to save her from being executed in the next episode).

She shoots herself in a specific spot in order to avoid hitting any vital organ, but as it turns out later she actually fails at doing so. This might support both the theory that she is an alien in a human body (doesn't know human anatomy that much) or that she is a human from the distant future (where evolution has progressed in such a way as to dispose of the vital organ she hit here because it would turn out to become useless for the survival of future generations).

It's suggested that she tells Penance everything about herself and her mission some time between E02 and E03 ("there's lots I'll need explained, but let's just be alive for a while now").

At the beginning of E03, she slaps herself in front of a mirror and seems to be staring at herself as if she's tired of wearing that face, or maybe even disgusted by it.

Horatio explicitly reveals here that Amalia is a soldier, even though we already had several hints that pointed to that in the previous episodes. She replies that she is a killer just like Maladie, which ties to Bonfire Annie saying to Horatio that Amalia and Maladie are actually quite similar in E04.

Amalia mentions being Horatio's "mistake". It's unclear if she's talking about Horatio cheating on his wife with her, or if it's about something deeper. However, we know that Amalia was present when Horatio discovered he was Touched.

She mentions to George that Mary wouldn't recognize any of the songs she knows (because she is not from "here") and later says she has already experience with the device Penance is currently inventing, recognizing it as an "amplifier". This definitely establishes that Amalia's consciousness comes from the future.

She reveals to Mary that right after August 3rd, 1896 she "woke up knowing things that she shouldn't and was declared insane". This suggests the background we know Amalia and Maladie share be from the asylum Maladie was being brought in exactly the day the Ship appeared over London. Later on, we get confirmation of this when Maladie recalls that Horatio was working as a doctor at that asylum while she and Amalia were both kept there. So Amalia, Maladie and Horatio seem to be the only members of the Touched who share an unknown background together that occurred between 1896 and 1899, and Penance is probably the only one currently at the Orphanage who has been provided with indirect knowledge of this.

She reveals that "we don't do [funerals] when I'm from, there's not enough time and there's not enough ground". This seems to imply that in the future most of the currently available land will be buried under the ever-growing levels of sea (while on the other hand population growth is likely going to gradually increase), or might simply suggest people die at enormous rates and there's just no time to mourn. She also makes it clear that she believes she was abandoned here by herself, and even raises the doubt that her original body host in the future might not be female.

It's heavily implied by Massen that she had previously foreseen Mary's death in the park during an unshown Rippling, and her reaction to that accusation seems to confirm that.

She confesses to Lucy that something went wrong during August 3rd, 1896 and that "it wasn't supposed to be like this" and she "just got left behind". This, combined with the conversation she had with Penance earlier, suggests that Amalia ignore the Ship crashed somewhere in London instead of fleeing away, as it was likely planned to do. So, Maladie seems to be the only one who knows about the crashing, which might explain why she also believes to have a mission which is different from Amalia's (as in, Maladie might have held as a mission all along that of finding the remains of the Ship and building it back to escape and carry out the original plan, while Amalia's plan might have nothing to do with escaping and everything to do with training the Touched to accomplish something in this place and time, since she doesn't know the Ship didn't leave her behind but actually crashed).

She discovers she isn't alone in her mission only when presented with the translation of the Voice of the Galan- made it possible thanks to Myrtle. She is referred to as a lonely soldier wearing stripes and is told by an unidentified someone (who was talking through Mary) that she wasn't actually abandoned.

[prose-for-hire]

So wrong it’s right

Part 2 // Part 3

Pairing: Angel x vamp!reader

Request: (Sorry if I make a mistake, English is my second language) Will you make a story with a somewhat villain reader (but shes not exactly evil) that keeps helping Angel out because she likes him and in the start he wont trust her but one day they kiss and Angel becomes confused about how he feels? I hope that makes sense. If I didn’t explain it well please don't feel you need to write it you can ignore this.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Violence/fighting. Swearing.

A/N: This is the kind of fic I LOVE to write. I enjoyed myself with this one !! 💜

You weren’t well-liked in LA. The ‘good guys’ hated you, trying to stake you at any second and the ‘bad guys’ despised you. Both felt this for the way that you made decisions based on how you felt. No allegiance to good or evil. No atonement or evil plotting. You served neither the powers or dark forces. This was a fluid and extremely ambiguous way to live, which brought suspicion with you wherever you went. But you were nothing if not authentic to your beliefs. You just weren’t really sure what those beliefs were yet.

In any case, you didn’t much care for world domination nor did you hang out in particularly damp underground hovels that you wouldn’t even bury your dog in, let alone spend precious years of your un-life.

LA had a certain draw to you, it was a hub. A beating heart of life that helped you thrive in a way you had only dreamed of when you really were alive. But most importantly, it wasn’t a backwater little town. The type that always seemed to harbour Hellmouths. They seemed a little boring to you anyway.

Yeah, it holds all the supernatural power hotspots you could wish for, but at what cost? Everyone knew everyone’s business and there was such a large amount of demons concentrated in one area it was hard to navigate without bumping into several ex-lovers. Not to mention there was a higher chance of a Slayer on your back.

Now, just because you weren’t ‘evil’, that wasn’t to say you lived in the light. For one, you couldn’t. You would die… again. But also, you weren’t exactly chafing at the bit to do as the powers said. They couldn’t simultaneously damn you to hell when you got dusted whilst enticing you with some long-winded and ultimately unnecessary prophecy that gave you the one thing you were scared of. Hope.

You didn’t have a soul, and you didn’t care for gaining one. Not through a curse and even less through fighting for one yourself. This is why one vampire didn’t like you. He didn’t trust you and definitely never cut you a break.

The fact was, he barely looked your way. Unless you were stood in his path. And you had, a few times. He was convinced you had some ulterior motive but had little time for you until you turned into a bigger threat.

That was, up until the last few months. You had started to catch his attention more and more. You had been fighting, again. In the back room of some seedy bar. Trading blows, neither of you holding back. The real threat long since dusted. It was just gone three in the morning, a time you liked to be home. Just in case of a freak early sunrise (you had heard horrible things of whole towns of vampires wiped out suddenly).

You were fighting, hard. He never left it. He just couldn’t walk away. You were after the same stupid vampire. Yes, you had been after him because he owed you a large sum of money and around five Siamese cats, but the end was the same. You twisted from his firm grasp, throwing him over your head. He landed but didn’t stay down. He ran at you, pushing you back and slamming you against the door. Almost through it. He grabbed a stake and flipped it up in the air before expertly catching it, looking back in your eyes.

There was almost a flicker of danger. A flicker of all the stories you had heard of Angelus. There was something there, some kind of feeling and it got you excited. Up until this point, his face had been pretty unmoving every time you saw him. The stake dug into your chest, directly over your unbeating heart. You couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes scanned your face. Moving from your lips to your eyes and back again. He was so close you could just lean in and… no. Eye on the prize, you tell yourself. You would settle for a quip charged with at least a little sexual tension. On your end, at least.

“You gonna keep waving that thing around or are you going to actually do something with it?” You bite, breathing heavily a smile on your face. You didn’t need to breathe but it was still a habit.

“Why’re you here, huh? Why are you always around when something bad happens?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Now I’m never getting those fucking Siamese” You muttered as he scowled at you. You were going to threaten him one more time before staking him. He rolled his eyes, you were worse than spike. At least he had a soul. Wanted one. You were content with your lot and it bugged him to no end.

“You know, I think I might enjoy this” Angel said stoically.

“Watch out, you don’t want to get too happy” You teased with a smile, everyone knew about Angel – word travels fast even here, “Or maybe you do. You might be more fun, to be honest”

These was the last words he expected to hear from you, you were younger than him by a mile. He was used to vampires pretty easily going down. He moved his arm back, directing the wooden stake straight for your heart. In the same second, you changed into your vamp face and propelled your head forwards. Your hand twisted his wrist trying to knock the stake from his hand as you propelled your ridged forehead towards him. Headbutting him with all of your strength.

The stake pierced your skin, but luckily (or unluckily it still hurt like anything) it was stabbed into your left arm which made you yelp. You yelped almost as much as Angel in his surprise as his nose started to bleed. It was enough to stun him, letting you run off with the stake still sticking out of your arm as you took a short cut to your destination.

Angel walked back to the hotel slowly, pinching his nose and wiping the blood on his sleeve. He took the long route back, not wanting to have to tell the others that he had lost in a fight with a vampire who was probably half his age. When he returned Cordelia rushed over to him, helping him to sit down. The entire team was there, waiting up for him. Fantastic, now he would have to tell them.

“Oh, uh, Angel?” Fred asked softly, “This was left for you – on your desk”

He turned and there it was. The stake that had been embedded in your arm the last he saw you. You must have travelled fast to get there before he did. He took it as an act of aggression, especially when he read the note attached.

‘Until we meet again, sweet Angel’

“Is this your slayer friend?” Fred asked, looking down at the floor. She had taken somewhat of a shine to Angel and may have been a little jealous. She had just learned what a slayer was.

“She’s a little more dramatic, a little less with the subtle” Cordelia stated, knowing for sure that the person that brought it was not Buffy. Not at all.

“Yes, I recall the young woman is about as subtle as a brick” Wes chuckled softly, reminiscing over his brief stint as a watcher.

“No. it wasn’t her” Angel confirmed, turning and scowling, “Wes, I need everything you can find on a vamp. Name’s y/n”

“Y/n? Are you sure it is wise to, um, shake the hornets nest so to speak. They’ve done little to actively harm-” Wesley said quickly. A slightly sheepish look on his face. You had met him and helped him out several times. You often crossed paths late night at the occult book store. You weren’t afraid of losing your credibility over a little light reading.

Your intelligence was often what gave you the upper hand over many demons you came up against. Wesley was strangely fond of you, although he knew from word on the street you could be mean if something was in the way of what you wanted. He was pleasant enough although spending too long with him gave you an Englishman-induced headache. He does prattle on so. And, that phrase had been unfortunately transferred into your brain from listening to him for too long.

“Apart from, that they’re a vampire who brutally kills to eat and always seems to be in every bad situation we’ve been in recently” Angel snapped, “I want everything. By tomorrow night”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill them”

It had been several more months and Angel had seen you several times in that period. He had yet to make good on his promise. The tension mounted, peaking every time you became close. Your back and forth riling you up, making you begin to pine for his attention.

He had noted that you had common goals, evil tended to get mowed down in your wake. Which, he couldn’t exactly complain about except that your personality was simultaneously infuriating and intriguing.

But he maintained that he didn’t like you. The way you danced through life, with no guilt. Very little self-reflection. You wouldn’t join him and that was enough, in his eyes for you to be against him.

This evening finds you on the hunt for a backstreet dealer, one that could find you an item that was particularly hard to find. Especially now Angel had a snitch on the inside, the deliveries were starting to slow. Dust couldn’t drive trucks.

You arrived at the meeting place, a dingy alleyway despite you specifically asking to meet somewhere that didn’t smell like something had died there. You had a very sensitive sense of smell.

“You got the stuff?” You asked, gesturing with your head for the demon to open the briefcase. But he snatched it from your grasp and the boss stepped from the shadows. This meant something more sinister.

“You helped him. We saw you” The scaly man with an impressively tailored suit accused.

“What?”

“Angel” He confirmed. Bad things happened to people who didn’t side with the boss. You knew this.

“I don’t pick allegiances, I told you. I’m just me” You assured them, eyes on the briefcase.

“You’re with us or you’re with him. Choose.”

“Fine.” You shrugged, the man nodded approvingly. It had been easier than he thought.

“Good, glad that you’re-” You spun into a kick, hitting his jaw which made him shut up. You hated people who gave you an ultimatum. You, for this very moment only, were on Angel’s side. Fists flying, feet connecting with hard bodies. You fought against them, hard.

More of them started to turn up. As if there had been a call. They started to surround you. You were strong, but not that strong. Your un-life flashed before your eyes. There was so much you had left to do. I mean, you had never even been to a virgin sacrifice. Never properly feasted on St Vigeous. You hadn’t even found your anti-soulmate.

You were almost ready to give up. And then he turned up. Your guardian angel.

Angel assessed the fight, realising you had been caught up. Not realising why it broke out. You fought beside each other, but traded insults with your ally. You found yourself waiting for these interactions with him. It made you smirk. This was the way you flirted.

You enjoyed this back and forth. He was starting to make you feel alive again. Begin to… hope.

The fight was finished and now all you both were was surrounded by dust. You took a breath. In name, not in action, recovering from the fight.

But he grabbed you by your shoulders, you had taken your guard down. He slammed you into the brick wall. The contact almost made you shiver as you smiled wide. You opened your mouth to speak, he was expecting it and spoke first.

“Don’t” He warned, frustrated at the way your eyes danced despite his threat.

“I’ve been waiting for this for months” You smirked, leaning closer to his face. There was barely an inch between you.

“Huh. Your death?”

“We’re already dead, baby, I’m looking more for the spice of life” You teased before leaning in and finally catching your lips with his. This had been all you had been thinking since you had first met him. The tension had reached its crescendo and you had to act.

It was an urgent kiss, you were willing him to reciprocate. His action beforehand made the adrenaline pump around your body harder. Want him more. There was danger harboured deep below the soul he cared for so deeply and it called to you like a moth to a flame.

You wanted him. You enjoyed every side you had seen so far. You didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to admit the tension in the air when you were around each other.

His lips didn’t move at first for those agonising moments. And then they did. All at once. His lips moving and fiery against yours, now fighting you for dominance. You tasted so good to him. A hand gripping your upper arm tightly with the other sliding up the curvature of your neck.

You slid your hands between the fabric of his shirt and his leather jacket, grasping at him. Your fingers snaked around him, exploring unchartered territory. He felt so good, you wanted him closer.

You found yourself almost preferring the feel of this more amiable touch to the harsh blows you had exchanged previously. He pressed you further into the wall, wanting more.

But all too quickly, his lips started to falter and you felt him start to pull away. He started to think too much into it. Comprehending the implications. You felt too good to him. You were a distraction, a sinful figure that strayed him from the power’s path. You almost whined as he pulled himself from where he had been pressed flush against you. He had to fight himself to remove his hands from you.

Your hands slid sadly from where they had been exploring his lean form. You felt yourself pouting slightly, which is a feat when you have fangs like you did.

His face had changed during your kiss, as had yours. Your vampire forms released as the tension did. Your more animalistic forms finding each other so appealing. The kiss a revelation, in some sense a curse. But again, he was used to that.

He pulled back, his face the picture of shock. It was the most emotion he had allowed you to see. So many contradictory emotions flashing behind his eyes. It had felt wrong, but oh so right to kiss you that way. He wanted more. He wanted to get as far away from you as possible.

You watched him in his turmoil, not able to hide the way you enjoyed seeing his face this way. You reached with your hand to trail along the distinctive bumps of his forehead. You couldn’t help it, you had suddenly begun to soften for him. Against your will. You wanted him to want you deeper than you had realised.

He realised that his vampire face was showing. He winced away from you, and you scanned over his face. He switched back immediately. Masking it.

He was ashamed. You frowned, your own vamp face still there. You embraced all that you were. You scanned his face, trying to show him that he could be himself with you. But he didn’t read that from your face.

He stepped back, all contact with him now gone. His eyes still trapped in yours for a moment. Your back was still pressed against the rough brick, your arm still outstretched for him.

But he just ran, jacket whipping around him as he kicked up his dust on way out of the alleyway. As if a magician through a puff of smoke, he was gone.

You eventually moved yourself from the wall, leaning to take the briefcase. You shrugged, dusting it off from the ash that had been left from the fight.

You walked slowly with your items, thoughts beginning to spin. Finding yourself lacking something deep inside that you had not realised you had been missing for so long.

[melissachan]

Un(reality) for two

AO3 link

Summary:

All Nagito Komaeda really wanted was to be understood. Hajime Hinata tried to grant this wish.

…or Danganronpa 2, but Hajime is 20% less tsundere 20% more smart and 100% more cool.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:M/M

Fandoms: Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types

Relationship: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Characters: Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime

Main Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships

TWs: self-harm, suicide and suicidal ideations, threats of violence, canon-typical violence, canon-typical Komaeda

Language: English

Wordcount: 14173

Status: Completed

Chapter 1: Destination Hope

“Hey.”

Hajime’s voice was very sudden, enough to make Nagito flinch a little. The beach was peaceful, the sound of the waves coming up and down was calming, and nobody usually came here – a perfect place for a trash like him to sit without bothering anyone. The soft sand probably made Hajime’s steps too quiet for him to notice. Not that Nagito minded it too much – if some of the others just came from behind and put a rope against his neck, or hit him with something heavy, or plunged a knife into his back, it would have been fine, but he’d still rather prefer them to consult him first.

“Ah, Hajime. Hello there,” he answered, waving his hand, his smile cheerful as always. Hajime’s expression was bleak. It didn’t seem like he slept much, and it made Nagito wonder what was keeping him awake. He had no idea what was such a big deal, but something on the back of his mind told him that it probably was his very own behavior, and this evoked a weak pang of guilt… It didn’t matter, though. It all was necessary for Hajime’s hope to shine brighter, someday he will understand. “What are you doing here? You don’t seem like a person who likes to take random beach walks, and I got a feeling it’s not that pleasant for you to see my face either,” he said, looking at Hajime curiously, his smile staying the same as the other boy came closer.

“There is something… that keeps bothering me since… since the last trial,” Hajime answered, looking unsure, trying to avoid eye contact. His voice was tense, even more tense than when it was there in the trial room, that damned day when Byakuya Togami’s and Teruteru Hanamura’s portraits became crossed out forever. Nagito was ready to join them, as ready as ever; he was always eager to become the last in the list of his many, many victims… But Hajime didn’t seem to be here to take up his offer, so he tilted his head questioningly.

“Aw, what a shame, I almost thought you came to discuss your brilliant murder plan with me,” Nagito sighed, making Hajime’s face go red as he furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips. No wonder he’s so angry, Nagito thought. It was way, way too arrogant of him to think someone with such a bright hope inside him would need any help from a useless, incompetent idiot like himself. “So, what is it?” he asked, smiling all the same.

“Just… just what the hell were you trying to do there in the dining hall?” Hajime suddenly blurted out, probably a bit louder than he intended. Accompanying his words, he kicked the sand underneath his foot, making countless grains go up and land on his shoes and clothes, picked up by the soft, warm tropical wind, too calm, too peaceful for this cursed island.

“Huh? Didn’t you figure it all out in the trial? I was going to stab someone with that knife, but alas, Teruteru and Byakuya stopped me,” Nagito answered, shrugging, continuing to smile friendlily, but it seemed to make every muscle on Hajime’s face go even more tense.

“So you were going to stab someone. With the glowing knife. In the complete darkness,” he spoke after a short pause, seeming to take a bit of time to calm down.

“Yes, exactly! Amazing, Hajime. Is your real talent the Ultimate Analyst?” Nagito exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to sound natural. He tried to think of something reasonable to say, but every option seemed to make the truth even more clear so he just smiled, hoping Hajime would drop it.

“You were trying to get yourself killed,” Hajime spoke, now sounding calm, almost… cold. The confidence in his voice, the one that made it clear he was stating it, not asking, made every bit of Nagito’s hope to avoid this talk shatter at once. Hajime now was looking into his eyes, with a weird mix of anger and… guilt? “Your weird behavior as you were on the cleaning duty. Telling Teruteru your plan. Mentioning the floorboards, planting the glowing paint, it was all a part of it,” he continued, clenching his fist – and his every word felt like a punch, piercing a piece of armor. “Am I right?” anger returned in his intonation, making Nagito take a step back.

“And what if… you are right?” he asked, looking at the sand underneath him. Hajime came closer and stood by, putting his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. He shook him, gently, but enough to make him lift his head up. Every trace of anger disappeared – now he looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“Why?” Hajime asked quietly, clenching his shoulders tightly, almost painfully. For some reason, it felt weirdly comforting – another human nearby, slightly warm, breathing, so close…

“I… I thought I explained it all already,” Nagito answered, still keeping up his cheerfulness, as if it was enough to wash away all the worries, to rebuild the lost defense. “From all of you guys, from all the shining symbols of hope… My life is the least valuable. The world needs you, and this is why I am willing to die if it means someone, anyone, leaves this damned place,” he explained, his smile going wider, his tone becoming too weird and too forceful and too sinister – he knew he should stop it, he knew everyone hated it, but he couldn’t do anything about it anymore, now absorbed into his own words. “Nobody would care if I’m gone. Nobody would miss me, or mourn me. There is no way for me to have any value except for being your stepping stone” – he spread his hands widely, making Hajime take a step back.

“Why?” the other boy asked, very quietly, and for some reason it made Nagito stop, now looking at him in confusion. “Why would you say such a thing?” Hajime yelled at him, indecisive to come closer again, tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Huh? Am I wrong?” he asked, trying to ignore the waves of guilt spreading through his mind. Not only was he useless trash, a person with a fake talent, Hope’s Peak Academy’s mistake… but now they all also hated him… right?

“Yes you are!” – the answer was clear, clear enough to make Nagito flinch. “I… I would’ve been sad” – it seemed like Hajime was trying not to yell, but his efforts didn’t do much good. Nagito gulped, the feeling of uneasiness becoming too hard to ignore. “You… Well, honestly, you’re a weirdo!” – he looked like a puppy robbed of a treat. “But… the kind boy who was with me when I was feeling scared and confused… The one who made me feel calm and peaceful… The one who wanted to investigate the island with me, it was also you, right?!” – Hajime stared at him, as if looking for an answer, but Nagito couldn’t find the words.

“I’m not sure… Was that person even real? Or is this person before me real? I just want to understand!” – Hajime was now crying, not even bothering to try to hide it. “And if you died, I would never know… No, that’s not it…even without this… I don’t want you, or anyone else, to die,” he finished, now breathing heavily from talking too much, his cheeks red from both tears and anger. Nagito still couldn’t find any words, or any right way to react, as if the whirlwind of emotions in his head stole his very voice…

And for some reason, at the very back of his mind, behind all the guilt, there was a wrong, sickening feeling of happiness.

“I give up. Going to my cottage now… Feel free to come if you ever want to explain yourself,” Hajime spoke after a long pause, now seeming to calm down. His breathing was still heavy, and despite the soft, warm tropical sun, the look on his face made Nagito feel cold. Not waiting for the answer, he turned back, and began to walk away slowly.

“But those kinds of talks… are exactly why I didn’t want anyone to figure out,” Nagito said quietly, sounding a bit colder than he intended. Hajime turned his head to him. For a short moment he looked like he was about to return and… do something. Start another talk, perhaps. Slap him, probably. But he didn’t, and very soon his silhouette fuzzed and disappeared in the distance.

Chapter 2: Sea and Punishment, Sin and Mahiru's Tasty Toast That Finally Gets Eaten

Lying on the floor without motion for so long was not the most pleasant feeling.

Nagito tried to move, to wriggle with his whole body, to change his position even for a bit. Not to free himself – he knew it was useless, and if not one, but two of the shiny, worthy Ultimates decided he’d be better off that way, who is he to argue – but to make his arms and legs feel a little less numb. Of course, he would deal with bruises and abrasions with no problems, but if it got too bad, he would become even more useless than he was now, tied up and unable to help anyone even a little, and he didn’t want such a perfectly fine stepping stone go to waste.

His stomach ached, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for… how long? Nagito had absolutely no idea, since the metal plates on the windows stopped him from seeing the daylight, but judging from the amount of sleep he got, it was about two or three days. In any case, he really, really regretted not trying any of the food Teruteru made – it all looked so good that even remembering it made his stomach growl even more pitifully.

He almost thought he shouldn’t have told Mahiru to go away and make him a better breakfast either. Almost. The hunger was unbearable, and actually seeing and smelling that hot pot of freshly cooked rice made him want to cry, but the thought of letting someone like her, a person with such a strong personality and such an ability to make everyone smile, touch his ugly, disgusting mouth was worse.

The door opened, making Nagito lift up his head a bit. He smiled – no matter how much discomfort he experienced, he shouldn’t make anyone worry about him. To his surprise, the person who came in wasn’t Mahiru Koizumi this time. It was… Hajime Hinata, holding a plate with toast and a glass of milk, along with two small packages of butter and honey. It was such simple food, but even looking at it made him want to drool. He couldn’t let that happen though, so instead he decided to greet his guest, distracting himself a bit.

“Oh, Hajime! Hello there!” he exclaimed, his voice sounding perhaps a bit too cheerful, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, looking at him with the same annoyed expression as always. “Sorry for making someone as great as you look at something so pathetic and unworthy of your attention. Seems like Mahiru sent you to feed me, what great luck I have today,” he continued after understanding Hajime wasn’t going to answer. He sighed, coming closer to Nagito, the plate still in his hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for making an embodiment of hope do such a thing, dirtying their wonderful hands made for spreading hope by touching someone like me, but it seems necessary so those who left me here won’t get executed,” he said, talking a bit faster than he wanted to, as his eyes latched onto the toast. Food, he just wanted to finally get some food, just a natural need of the human body. The sudden easiness he felt definitely had nothing to do with the fact that of being touched by Hajime didn’t seem that bad at all…

“Or maybe you played that game Mahiru told me about and now came to kill me?” Nagito asked, making Hajime groan. “See, I wouldn’t mind it at all! I’d say I wouldn’t mind just dropping dead at any second, but dying such a meaningless death when there’s so many wonderful opportunities to strengthen everyone’s hope would’ve been a bit sad, so I thi–” – Hajime leaned down and put the plate on the floor with enough force to make the milk splatter, Nagito’s words drowning in the loud clang that followed.

“Seriously, what the heck is wrong with you? Cut it out!” Hajime said, the anger clear in his tone. “I’m just going to finish this quickly and go do something more useful, I got no time for listening to that nonsense,” he sighed. To Nagito’s surprise, he didn’t reach for the toast or the milk, leaning over him instead. The next second he felt how the rope fell off, freeing his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused, as Hajime continued to untie his arms. A feeling of relaxation suddenly spread through his body as it was no longer restrained, making him turn on his side, taking a more comfortable position.

“Freeing you, of course,” Hajime said with the same hint of annoyance in his voice. “And don’t get me wrong, I won’t let you actually roam freely. I just asked Monomi to give me the key to this room, so I’ll just lock you up,” he added as Nagito crawled to the wall, now taking a sitting position. His whole body ached and it was difficult to move, but the comfort it brought made him forget about the hunger, at least until his eyes latched onto the toast again.

“I mean, I can feed you, but like… You need to move, right? Bedsores and atrophied muscles are not the funnest things to deal with,” Hajime said, almost like he was trying to convince himself it was a good idea. “Besides, keeping you like this is just… unnecessarily cruel” – Nagito couldn’t answer, now stuffing the toast into his mouth with greed he wasn’t expecting of himself. “I also figured that you’d get bored, so I brought… this” – Hajime held out his hand, giving him a small colorful device with a set of buttons at each side. “That’s a video game console. I got like half a dozen of those from the MonoMono Yachine,” he explained, looking a bit awkward.

“Wow! Not only coming here to feed someone like me, but actually being worried about the well-being of someone so lowly and worthless? You’re not only the Ultimate Serenity, you’re also the Ultimate Compassion!” Nagito exclaimed, making Hajime groan again. He looked at the device, feeling… weird. He knew he didn’t deserve it, he knew he made Hajime waste the time and effort instead of doing something useful, or fun, or hopeful, but god, why did it feel so good? “Videogames are fun, although I prefer to spend my time reading books,” he suddenly said, trying to distract himself.

“Books? What kind of books?” Hajime asked, looking at him seriously. Nagito took the second piece of toast, putting the butter and honey on it.

“I love murder mystery books the most. Although I read a bit of nonfiction and science literature as well,” he answered, not putting much thought into it. Actually holding the food in his hands made the hunger stronger, and he didn’t know it was even possible…

“Wait there, I’ll get you some,” Hajime said, getting up. Hearing that almost made Nagito choke on the toast out of surprise as he watched the other boy stand up and head to the door. No, you shouldn’t, you wasted way more time and energy and kindness on me than I will ever deserve today, he wanted to say, but Hajime already closed the door, locking it from the other side with a quiet soft clang…

Nagito waited, looking at the door. Hajime was taking longer than he expected. He turned on the console and tried to find something like a clock, or a calendar at least, but he there wasn’t anything like this in that weird device. Hajime probably decided to just leave him, he suspected, and that’s probably for the best – no, really, that was more of a comforting thought than an unpleasant one. He got up and walked around a bit, more to give his stiff and numb muscles some work than anything, when he heard the door opening again.

“Hello again, Hajime!” he spoke, as the other boy came in, looking like he was out of breath. He really was holding a couple of books and some piece of a heavy-looking cloth this time, making Nagito feel a pang of guilt again. Just, what drove him to do all of this? Was it the same thing that made people suddenly give him sad looks when they hear about his absolutely normal and logical desire to trade his worthless life for something more valuable, something that could bring the slightest ray of hope to the world?

“Hello… Can’t promise they’re any good, but these are all I could find in the library,” Hajime said, putting the books on the floor. Nagito wanted to thank him… but every word in his head seemed either not enough or too overdramatic. “So, you like murder mysteries?” Hajime suddenly asked, as if he wanted to end the awkward pause between them.

“Yes,” Nagito answered unsurely. “What about it?” – he made several steps back and sat down, leaning against the wall in the most comfortable position he could get in this empty room.

“Why is that?” Hajime asked, looking at him a bit more intently than Nagito expected.

“I like everything that makes you think, I suppose,” he answered unconfidently. “I also like the… unique relationships between the author and the reader they create. The balance between deceiving them and at the same time giving them a chance to figure everything out,” he added, putting his finger on his chin. “In a novel I read recently, the murderer creates different scenarios specifically to give the main character a chance to understand not only “whodunit” and “howdunit”, but also their motive… and them as a person. And I feel like… this is what the author of the mystery should do, even if their character doesn’t want this in-universe,” he spoke, now noticing that Hajime was staring at him thoughtfully, listening to every word with a surprising amount of attention.

“I once read a story where the mystery was about if a human did it, or an ancient god’s curse… And by the end it turned out that the ancient god did exist, but it was a nice sweet girl who begged people to stop as they slaughtered each other in her name. Was pretty cool,” Nagito continued to talk. Hajime frowned slightly… damn, he must’ve said something weird or stupid again.

“So you can talk like a normal person when you want to,” Hajime stated with a quiet sigh. Nagito felt his face turn hot and red. “Sorry, I was never a fan of this genre, so I don’t have that much to answer,” he added, scratching the back of his head.

“Huh? I wouldn’t think that, given how easily you solved ours with Teruteru’s mystery,” Nagito said, looking up at Hajime. For some reason, it made the anger return to his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know a smart, hopeful and talented person like you doesn’t need to know every trick in the book to solve the mystery,” he added, attempting to fix his mistake, but it made Hajime’s face look even more displeased.

“That’s not it!” he said, waving his hand angrily. “Just… don’t compare it to that. You know, Nagito, people actually died for it. It’s not some kind of… an entertaining story” – Hajime looked at the floor, his tone becoming less furious and more sad with each word.

“I… I see…” Nagito answered, fighting with the desire to make Hajime finally understand that their sacrifice was definitely worthy, and meaningful, and not a sad thing at all… But something at the back of his mind told him that it was the wrong time and place for it.

“Glad you understand,” Hajime said, his face softening a bit. “I’d be happy to read those stories we were talking about… when we get out of here,” he added, looking weirdly determined.

Hajime wanted to… leave this place? With him? With them both being alive? No, it was too good of a thought. He just meant this in general, Nagito was sure.

“Anyway, now I think I need to go. Everyone’s probably worried about me already,” Hajime spoke. “Oh, before I forget, take this too” – he put the piece of cloth he was holding the whole time on the floor. “It’s a blanket… It was just lying there in the library so it doesn’t seem like anyone needs it. Figured that sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be the most comfortable experience…” – Hajime paused, suddenly looking straight into Nagito’s eyes. “Moreover, you look like you’re cold… Always cold,” he added thoughtfully, and for some reason it made Nagito gulp.

“Before I go, need anything else?” Hajime asked, heading to the door.

“Some more food… please,” Nagito answered, accompanied by his stomach growling loudly again. Hajime smiled with a nod, and left.

Chapter 3: Set Free by the Ocean Scent

Nagito’s mind was reeling, his ears were ringing and his eyes fluttered around the room nervously as he sat on the hospital bed, with Hajime standing nearby, looking at him with an expression of a clear, unfiltered concern. He must not lie. He must not lie. He must not say stupid bullshit. He must just control his body, and his mouth and tongue were just other parts of it. Collect your thoughts, then say what you think. It was that simple.

“Leave me alone. I hate you. I can’t stand seeing your stupid face anymore.”

The words left without his permission, and all he wanted now was to grab his head and shake it with all his strength, or to smash it against the wall, or to drop his body against the floor with all his might so he would break his jaw and stop speaking forever… But his limbs weren’t moving, and all he could do was look at Hajime with a silly smile, drooling slightly as the other boy sighed, staring at him, a hint of curiosity suddenly making its way into his expressions.

“What are you waiting for? Do you want me to vomit from seeing your stupid face? I bet you’re actually not even a symbol of hope; you’re a worthless, talentless piece of trash. Erase yourself from this world and replace that pathetic loser you are with someone better,” – more words escaped from Nagito, and he wanted to put his hand on his lips, to take the bedsheet and stuff it into his throat, to take a bottle of acid and drink it so nothing would leave his dirty, disgusting mouth ever again, but all he could do instead was look into Hajime’s eyes. For a split second he seemed… hurt, really hurt, even more than he was in that trial, when he learned about Nagito’s role in it, and it made him want to rip off his own tongue with his bare hands. But it lasted just a split second, before Hajime suddenly smiled at him warmly.

“Wow, you want me to stay that badly? Not that I have nothing better to do… But if you’re begging like this, then I think I have no choice,” he sighed, coming closer, sitting down on the bed nearby. Feeling his presence that close made Nagito’s head spin. It was too near. Too personal. Almost about to touch him. Almost like he could give in and put his head on Hajime’s shoulder, and fall asleep peacefully… Feeling his coarse, spiky hair tickle his ear lightly… It was pleasant… Why was it so pleasant?

The thoughts consumed him, and he noticed it too late when his body began to fall down. He tried to direct it to the side, so he lands on the pillow and not on the floor, or, even worse, on Hajime, but…

“Hey, be careful. You’re very weak and we don’t want to give Mikan more trouble,” Hajime said, smiling, lightly holding Nagito’s shoulders, keeping him sitting upright. His hands were warm and soft, and feeling them suddenly made Nagito’s mind calm and peaceful, almost ready to fall asleep. “So try to not fall and bruise yourself, okay?” Hajime said, his tone slightly worried, as he pulled Nagito a bit closer to himself.

“Don’t touch me with your disgusting hands, you filthy, unworthy idiot. Every second I feel them on me feels like a torture. If I spend one more minute in your presence, I swear, it would make me lose my will to live, and your voice will haunt me in my nightmares,” Nagito blurted out, suddenly even for himself, his body feeling numb, every muscle going weak and limp. It was hard to breathe, and for the first time since he arrived on Jabberwock Island, he felt hot, overheated, almost as if his body was burning. His body began to shake weakly. He will die here, right? This is the place where his pathetic life ends… And the last thing Hajime hears from him will be those awful, bitter words.

This thought suddenly made him want to cry, but his face didn’t reflect this feeling either, instead making his dumb disgusting smile grow bigger.

“So it means… My touches made you regain your will to live and my voice comes to you in your sweet dreams?” Hajime asked, half-flattered, half surprised. Nagito’s face got hot, and it wasn’t from his body temperature rising up this time. “If so… I think I don’t mind being closer for a while,” he added, pulling him near again, holding him gently with one arm.

“The only positive of it is that you might catch the Despair Disease from me and die! Yes, my talent will surely make it happen, and it would be such amazing luck,” Nagito spoke again, his own tone – cheerful, almost like he wanted to burst into laughter – making him flinch. Hajime looked at him with a mix of confusion and surprise, and then smiled calmly again.

“Oh, that does make sense, I probably shouldn’t get that close,” he said, scratching the back of his head. But, contrary to his own words, he didn’t let go, instead wrapping his other hand around Nagito’s shoulders, now cuddling him tightly. His body was soft, and it made Nagito relax unwillingly, now leaning against him, letting himself enjoy the moment. He could feel his heartbeat: strong, methodical, probably a bit faster than normal, but nothing compared to his own heart, racing rapidly.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Hajime said, sounding playful, without the slightest hint of remorse in his voice. He leaned back, still not letting go, but now gently putting Nagito’s body, still way too weak and limp, on the bed. “God, you’re hot… Um… I mean, your body temperature,” he said awkwardly, and although Nagito couldn’t see his face, he was sure he was blushing, scratching the back of his head again. “I know you probably feel overheated already, but we need to keep your body warm, so please understand,” he said, fiddling with something on the other side of the bed. The next second Nagito felt the weight of a pretty heavy warm blanket on him, as Hajime tucked it in carefully.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. I’ll just sit on that chair on the other side of the room and will watch you until Mikan arrives, okay?” Hajime asked, his tone starting to become worried again. “Don’t worry… Monokuma is forbidden from actually killing any one of us. So I’m sure it’ll get better. Just hold on a little bit longer,” he added, probably trying to calm himself down just as much as he was attempting to comfort Nagito. His breathing became a bit easier, but the waves of weakness were getting worse with every second, and he felt like he couldn’t get up no matter how hard he would try.

Hajime put his hand on his forehead… then pressed his lips against his cheek lightly, giving him a soft, pleasant kiss. Body temperature, he was just checking his body temperature, nothing more, Nagito was sure, but his face went red nonetheless. He turned his head to the side, burying his nose into the pillow, in a pathetic attempt to hide it. “So, try to sleep and regain your strength,” Hajime said, not noticing – or pretending not to notice – his pitiful efforts. Nagito still wanted him to stay, and he hated it, hated it, hated it, it was an awful wish, so selfish, it would be horrible if Hajime got the disease and gave Mikan more work or if he got it really bad and had to stay in bed, if he experienced all that weakness and shortness of breath and temperature and everything, and…!

And died. Nagito wasn’t sure why he suddenly was so hesitant to let his thought into his mind. Everyone he wanted to stay with him had always died, one by one.

“Hope you’ll get well soon,” Hajime spoke quietly, as if he was thinking Nagito might be sleeping already. Then he took a step back, now making himself comfortable in the chair.

Nagito struggled not to answer, trying to stop his tongue from creating another terrible, twisted, hurtful lie and bring it to reality. This time he succeeded, as his weak, failing body succumbed to the pleasant unconsciousness faster than he could form a single word.

Chapter 4: Do Ultimate Lucky Students Dream of Love Confessions?

“I was fine with it when I was healthy, but it would be lonely to die alone…”

The room was bright. Too bright. It made Nagito head spin, although he wasn’t sure if it was from those awful, acidic colors twisting the walls and the furniture and everything that was in the Funhouse into a mess with the single purpose of making people go insane, if not from the hunger and the lack of sleep. He tried to concentrate on Hajime’s face, the only thing that looked familiar, and normal, and comforting in this hell of wonderlands. The other boy stared narrowly into his eyes.

“So, it was a weird thought. Never would have thought it’d appear in my mind. But now, when I feel death coming closer and closer, all I want is… someone to love me. Or at least, to understand me,” he said quietly. The weight of his words suddenly got to him, but he understood it all too late. Hajime looked at him seriously, and he expected to see a familiar glint of pity in his eyes, but what he saw instead was genuine concern. For some reason that’s even worse, and he turned his head away, looking at the palm of his hand, unable to bear seeing the other boy’s eyes.

“Or… maybe it was something I read in a book,” he said calmly, smiling, waving his hand as usual. He definitely told him too much. It probably was the hunger, and the sleep deprivation, and those stupid walls, green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and grape and strawberry. And his genuine desire to have someone believe him, have someone take him seriously, have someone love him, but he would never let those dumb feelings control him. He knew he didn’t deserve any of that. But he hoped he at least was worthy or of someone who will make him a good and appreciable sacrifice for them. So, it must’ve been hunger. Definitely hunger.

Hajime made a step forward. His motions seemed slow, but Nagito was not sure if it was because he was hungry and powerless too or because his own mind was just processing things like that. Without words, Hajime lifted up his hand and gave Nagito a strong, sonorous slap on the face, enough to make him turn his head away.

It didn’t feel painful, though. His cheek just got numb and red, as he looked at Hajime, blinking in surprise, the flashing images of his face surrounded by green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and warm and dear to his heart almost making him feel nauseous.

“Why did you lie?” Hajime asked, quietly, but his low voice just made it sound more clear in the silent empty hallway.

“Aw, that. I just wanted some of your sympathy, I guess. Wanted to know how it felt,” Nagito answered carelessly, making a step back in confusion.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Hajime asked again, lifting up his head and looking him into the eyes. Nagito gulped, making another step back instinctively. He was so stupid, upsetting a shining symbol of hope with his problems unworthy of anyone’s attention.

“Of course not,” he answered reassuringly, a look of worry on his face. “I would not ever think that about someone chosen by the Hope’s Peak Academy, ever,” he said, clenching his hand and putting it on his chest.

“Damn it, not this again,” Hajime groaned, his quiet fury giving up its place to a good old annoyance. “Forget about damn Hope’s Peak Academy. Do you think I am stupid? Or do you think I don’t care?” he asked, now staring at Nagito seriously.

“No,” he answered without thinking, making Hajime’s face soften. For some reason he felt a chill go down his spine.

“Good. I believe you,” Hajime smiled, coming closer. “Now, knowing I’m not stupid and I do care about you, which part of everything you said was a lie?” he asked, frowning slightly, a look of concern returning to his expression.

“The part…” – Nagito gulped nervously, struggling to find the right words. His mind screamed, and his very being begged him, no, don’t do this, don’t pull Hajime closer, don’t drag him deeper into this mess than he already is, he wouldn’t last long, your luck will do him in and if it won’t, your delusional mind and awful personality and ugly face and disgusting voice and your utter uselessness will bring him down forever, but…

But he gave up.

“The part with the book, I think,” he said awkwardly, looking at his hand again. It was a convenient place to look; anywhere but Hajime’s eyes and those green and pink walls

“You think?” Hajime asked, sighing, but the expression on his face was one of relief. “See, I know why you would… not want anyone to know those things,” he said, his voice soft and calming. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want that either. It is difficult to make someone you know, and someone who is dear to you, go through this. But making yourself go through it alone, not letting anyone help, is even worse,” he added, clenching his fist with a weird determination in his eyes, like when he was talking about how they all would leave that place, alive and well, without needing to sacrifice anyone. “And for me, making you go through this alone is way more painful than… any alternatives,” he spoke softly, but firmly. In a tone that made Nagito want to believe him.

“I see…” – Nagito was bad at finding the words, but he mustered enough courage to look back into Hajime’s eyes. The other boy smiled at him affectionately. He came close, touching his cheek gently.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this,” Hajime said, sounding way more remorseful than he probably needed to.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing, really…” – Nagito smiled, as Hajime’s warm fingers against his cheek made it tingle, slightly. The spot was still red. Hajime frowned.

“What you should do first is stop this ‘I’m okay if people hurt me’ stuff,” he sighed, putting his hand on Nagito’s shoulder. Nagito looked at him with confusion, and for some reason it made Hajime’s eyebrows furrow more in displeasure.

“But why?” Nagito asked, looking at him seriously. “Isn’t it just a logical thing, I mean? If I’m worthless, at least I can make someone else worthy? Like, if someone had a bunch of sticks, a ragged cloth, and an old hat, he could make a scarecrow from it, making a worthless thing into a worthy one?” – or burn it all to get some warmth, he wanted to say, but didn’t. Hajime sighed.

“That’s… that’s not it at all…” – He looked resentful, almost as if it was he himself who’s being called trash. “Don’t compare people to garbage!” – Hajime’s body got tense; Nagito could clearly feel it standing so close to him.

“But they are! Those poor fools, powerless to change anything, deluding themselves that hard work will get them somewhere, will let them change the world, how pathetic,” he said, shrugging, a weird hint of gleefulness sneaking into his voice as he continued to ramble. “But hey, as least they can be useful! Me, though? My literal destiny is to bring misery and pain upon anyone I meet! That’s all I’m good for!” he exclaimed loudly, almost sounding like was proud of it. Hajime’s hand relaxed as he pulled it away. Nagito wanted him to slap his face again, stronger, with all his power, maybe then his luck will make him fall and snap his neck, or crack his skull, and then Hajime will escape, finally, someone would leave this cursed island…!

Hajime wrapped both of his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His warm body was shaking weakly, but only by the tone of his voice did Nagito understand that he was crying.

“Stop it,” he said, softly, but sternly, voice remaining clear. “Stop comparing people… to those weird things. And stop comparing yourself… to those weird things as well,” he added, cuddling Nagito closer, making all his words and all his counterarguments stick in his throat, and even his thoughts go empty, thinking about nothing but Hajime’s gentle hands and his arms on his back and the warmth of his body. “And even if you won’t stop… You’re my ragged cloth that I will patch to the end of time, and I will never throw it away, or burn it, or make a scarecrow of it, because… it’s dear to me,” he said seriously. The comparison made Nagito’s face red and hot again, his embarrassment doing a good job at hiding his amusement.

“So, please, stop,” – Hajime looked into his eyes, without interrupting the hug. Nagito didn’t remember when he started to hold him back. “I said it earlier and I repeat: I don’t want you to get hurt, or to die” – he pursed his lips and that weird aura of determination returned to him again. It brought… a truly pleasant, hopeful feeling in Nagito’s mind. Even for a second, he could just enjoy it, getting lost in the moment, closing his eyes and putting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Only when the other boy leaned back, he remembered…

He knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I love you,” he said, a bit too simply for those powerful words, but for some reason they came out easily, like it was something always meant to be said. Hajime smiled…

Before he could understand, Hajime pulled him into another hug, silencing his worries with a gentle kiss.

All his doubts were gone. He knew it now.

If he gets to the Strawberry house ever again, he will go into the Final Dead Room.

Chapter 5: Smile at Hope in the Name of Despair

“Really, you shouldn’t worry about me. Just go and have fun with the others,” Nagito said, smiling. The hotel lobby was quiet, and nobody was there except Hajime. Why did he come? Wasn’t Nagito clear enough about not wanting to have anything to do with any of them? He probably should’ve tried to shoo him off harder, way harder, but he couldn’t summon the past feelings of rage and betrayal, to fuel all the hurtful things he could think about. He just got worn out, his mind weirdly clear, now completely focused on the plan.

After all, he is no better than any of them himself, so what right did he have to pretend to feel so hurt and disgusted by their actions?

“No!” Hajime exclaimed loudly, anger flashing in his eyes, as he kicked the floor underneath. Nagito looked at him with surprise. “I refuse,” he said, trying to calm down, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Why not? Do you want something from me?” Nagito asked casually, expression unchanged. For some reason, his nonchalant tone made Hajime look more hurt and enraged than any of his previous remarks ever could as he came closer, his resentment clear in each loud footstep.

“Yes, I do,” he blurted out, tone almost sarcastic, like he was saying something obvious and self-evident. “Just what the hell happened to you?!” he exclaimed, the anger and sadness mixing up in his voice still making Nagito feel a pang of guilt, and he had no idea why would it have such an effect, because even the thought of killing them didn’t seem to do the same. He sighed, trying to shrug off that weird sensation… god, why was there no switch in his head to stop caring about that stupid red face, about those oddly keen, but kind eyes, about that spiky, pleasantly tickling hair.

Right now, he could as well have been tying up his arms and legs, applying knots slowly with one hand, the spear’s cord already in his grip.

But he didn’t, as he continued wasting time with Hajime. “And I don’t. Leave me alone,” he said firmly, trying not to look at the other boy. It got harder as he came closer, almost like he wanted to pull him into another hug…

“Back off,” Nagito snarled at him, pulling out the army knife that he already had prepared long ago. Hajime stopped, looking at it with more confusion than fear. “I don’t want to kill you and die a dumb death from being executed, but come any closer and I will use it,” Nagito said, his tone friendly, but serious. Hajime seemed to hesitate.

Right now, Nagito could as well have been lifting up that knife above himself. He did hesitate, especially before the first stab, when he sat there for a good minute, looking at the blade until the anxiety became more unbearable than any pain he could imagine. Then he swung his arm as quickly as he could. The feeling of one’s skin being torn up a bit was probably familiar to any person, but the agonizing sensation of the muscles and tendons and vessels getting ruptured as the knife was tearing through them all alike was like nothing he ever felt before. His scream, even muffled by the tape, echoed through the room, ringing in his ears more than the loud, roaring music.

Right now, he could as well have been preparing to pull it out, the thought of doing it all again and again and again making him shiver, even though he knew it was what he deserved.

But he didn’t, as Hajime continued to come closer, still looking a bit unsure. “You won’t,” he said, trying to hide his anxiety, but his voice was giving him away, every hint of anger and sadness washed away by the fear. He made a step forward.

“What makes you think so?” Nagito asked, his tone sounding curious and almost amused. He looked at the knife, playing with it in his hands, hoping his luck would stop him from accidentally losing a finger.

“Because…” – Hajime came close, dangerously close. Despite being the one with the knife, it was Nagito who needed to take a step back. Hearing Hajime’s voice, seeing his face, letting him touch his cheek, hugging him, kissing him; it was all too much, it could make him give up, and he couldn’t, he didn’t want to…!

Why was he even so hesitant? His plan would end up with Hajime, and all the other people he had called his friends and his classmates, dead anyway. Except the traitor. He didn’t know who it was, but he knew for sure it couldn’t have been Hajime. What a terrible luck it was to be aware of that. Damn that notebook for stripping him from the only delusion that would bring him any comfort. In the Funhouse, he was still clinging to the pathetic chance of “dying for the sake of his beloved”, how stupid, how childish, how pathetic it was. Nagito looked at the knife…

Right now, he should have been staring at this very knife in his hand, already covered in his own warm blood, and gripping it tighter. Pulling it out was almost worse than plunging it in. His shaky hands probably didn’t help, making the knife disturb already wounded flesh, all his instincts telling him to stop. He thought it would be way easier, way faster, a quick succession of stabs and slashes. In reality, he just wanted it to end already, despite the fact that it had just began. But he couldn’t. There was no going back now.

There was no going back the moment he read the files.

Right now, he could as well have been taking a deep breath, preparing himself for another wave of excruciating pain. It didn’t make it any more bearable when he swung his arm again until it hit something soft – and his mind registered that this something was his own flesh, ruptured way too easily by the sharp steel. He cried out, writhing, screaming until he was gasping for breath, thankful that the tape made all the sounds muffled, too weak to be heard. His leg jerked – or at least tried to, held back by the rope, but it was enough for the blade to press against the muscles, buried deeply into the flesh, evoking another weak attempt to shout.

Right now, he should have been pulling the knife out as fast as he could. He was trying to catch his breath, desperately needing a break, but it didn’t stop him from bringing the knife down again. His body was fighting against itself, making him try to jerk his hand away before the blow, to move his leg out of its way, to do anything just to make it stop, but he struggled against it, moving his arm down in another shaky motion. He missed the spot a bit, making the tip of the knife press against the already open wound, and the sensation was unbearable; the feeling of the burning, violent agony was so bad it made him drag the knife away way faster than he should…

Right now, he could’ve been screaming, yelling. It was loud, so loud that he was hearing it despite the gag, feeling the tape stretching out around his mouth. He could almost call it relieving, painfully comforting, his pathetic cries and thrown-back neck and arched back distracting him from the pain, if it wasn’t for his throat starting to get dry and sore.

Nagito’s head was spinning, and he tried to shake it, as if that could help him to see anything but red. The new injury was not even half as deep as the other ones… Bad… Suspicious… He was weak. Why was he so weak? He knew that if he ever wanted to clean himself from despair, to earn the world’s forgiveness, he needed to endure any punishment prepared for him. Everything was deserved. In fact, he deserved way worse.

And yet, he decided to just leave it like this, hoping Hajime and the others wouldn’t actually check.

Right now, he should have been swinging the knife again, trying to hold it more steadily. With the fourth stab, he realized that the pain started to get weaker. Probably because of the severed nerves, or just from getting used to it, perhaps. With the fifth one, he was slowly regaining his ability to think straight. With the sixth blow, he felt like the new pang of pain was nothing compared to the lingering feeling of agony from the previous wounds…

With the sixteenth one, he realized there was no place on his right leg he could reach that wasn’t already ripped apart and covered in deep bleeding injuries. He felt the blood soaking his clothes, making them wet and sticky, and sensed it flowing down to the floor. At the beginning of it, it was just slightly warm. Now it felt almost hot, as his skin was getting colder, somehow paler than it already was.

Right now he could as well have been trembling in fear, realizing it was less than half of what needed to be done.

But he didn’t, instead desperately trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with the situation he found himself in. He could’ve just listened to Hajime, then waited until he’s gone, then continued with the plan. He could’ve done this, it was so easy, or it would be so easy if Hajime wasn’t so kind to him, so supportive, so understanding, so willing to listen and to reach out. Even now, he was still trying to do this, despite everything Nagito did and said to him, despite every insult, both accidental and those carefully chosen to sting as deeply as possible. Despite the fact that he was threatening his very life, along with the lives of all his friends.

Nagito didn’t deserve him.

Why was he still thinking about Hajime in this way, Nagito wondered. He was supposed to be an enemy, a living incarnation of despair. He was an awful, evil person; Nagito knew it for a fact. And yet he was there, so dear and so close and still wanting to talk to him, to figure him out already. Why was he so stubborn with this?

He should’ve just tricked him, saying it’s alright now and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Thinking about it, it would have made the plan even more likely to work by decreasing the chance of them starting to suspect any malicious intent from him.

But he knew himself and he knew that he couldn’t. The moment he let Hajime come closer, he would lose. He would succumb to his selfish wishes and give up.

He wanted to give up.

He let the thought of abandoning everything, of betraying hope, not the first, but the second time, invade his mind. The realization started to sink in, and he pointed the knife at Hajime. Why was the idea of hurting him directly was still so unbearable?

“Seriously, don’t get any closer,” Nagito said, all his energy directed at keeping his composure. He hoped Hajime couldn’t read him well enough to understand how panicked and conflicted he was. “As I said earlier, I don’t want to actually kill you, so I’ll aim at your non-vital points, but hey, knowing my luck, anything could happen” – he wanted to laugh cheerfully, but the sound that escaped was more of a cough. “So, can you make it easier and just go away?” – he didn’t understand when his tone had become pleading, almost desperate.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

Just go away.

Just come closer, come closer, ignore everything I said, just be with me for now, hold me closer.

Hajime flinched, pausing for a bit, his whole body tense and sweat running down his forehead. Nagito gulped, watching him in anticipation. Hajime made another step forward, making him feel both fear and relief… and regret, regret that he didn’t just go to that damn warehouse earlier.

Right now, he could as well have been there, finishing with his second leg. At first each wound brought him a feeling of sharp, intense pain. Now those feelings were slowly transforming into an overall agonizing sensation that felt like it was covering every muscle in his thighs. His legs started to get numb, he noticed with relief. He needed to do something with his arm now, he remembered, getting dizzy from the blood loss, breathing heavily through his nose.

Right now, he could as well have been tracing the blade down across his shoulder, barely having energy to make the knife even rip through the fabric of his jacket, leaving a shallow, bleeding cut. His screams died down to weak pitiful whimpers, barely audible even for his own ears.

Right now, he could as well have remembered the most painful part is yet to come.

But he didn’t, as Hajime was coming closer and closer, making Nagito take a step back with each of his steps forward. Nagito soon found himself pressed against the wall, the knife still in his hand. Hajime now looked at him a bit more confidently as he made the final step forward. Their noses were almost touching each other. Carefully, Hajime put his palm on the blade of the knife, then gently took it from Nagito’s hand. Nagito looked at it, almost feeling like he was unable to move as the other boy sighed with relief and tossed the weapon across the room. He heard it hit the wall with a clang.

“See?” Hajime asked, wrapping his arms around Nagito’s shoulders, holding him, tears standing in his eyes. “God, it was pretty scary, I must admit,” the other boy spoke softly, laughing a little. That was almost enough to make Nagito smile in return. “But I believed in you,” he said, sounding weirdly solemn, before cuddling him closer. “Always believed, and it always will be this way” – Hajime was crying now; Nagito could hear it in his voice.

At this very moment, he could’ve been raising his hand above the knife standing blade-up. His breathing was heavy and ragged. His body quivered weakly – he didn’t know if it was from the pain or from the fear, or probably both. He really, really, didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t even necessary for the plan. He could as well have tossed the knife aside and left it at that, waiting for the poison to bring him mercy…

He slammed his hand down with all the power that was left in his broken body.

The pain came delayed, and it felt almost like the time it took for his brain to process it made it worse. His immediate reaction, the instinct that stops people from accidentally hurting themselves, made him try to jerk his hand back, to get it away from whatever was attacking. His arm twitched, lifting up instinctively, but the weight of the knife brought it down, the metal screeching against the floor. Only then did he scream, and before that he was ready to swear he was unable to do so anymore. His body wriggled in convulsions, trembling, no longer in his control, his fingers twitching as the pool of blood underneath his palm was getting wider.

Right now, he could have been slowly regaining his composure, barely keeping himself conscious, tossing the toy away with a swift movement and stretching out his arm to make it look like it was tied up, hoping to do it before the flash of adrenaline wears out.

But he didn’t, instead hugging Hajime in return, trying to keep his warm body closer. He was crying – not from pain or fear, but from happiness, feeling his gentle touches and listening to his soothing words. Hajime leaned back a bit, to look right into Nagito’s eyes.

“I knew it all along. It’s because you love me. And, no matter how much you want to deny it, I love you.”

Hajime Hinata never said that.

He smiled warmly, as if Nagito didn’t threaten him with the knife a couple minutes ago. As if he didn’t try to scare him and his friends with the bomb. As if he didn’t spend the last few days insulting him and putting him down at every chance he had. He still stood there with open arms, welcoming him back.

Hajime Hinata never did that.

Hajime Hinata never approached him on the beach. Probably never figured out his real scheme either. The ones who took the effort to take care of him and keep him from starving were Mahiru Koizumi, and Monomi, the teacher. Hajime Hinata never was able to figure out his lies, whether they were caused by the disease or said voluntarily. Even if he did, he never bothered to explain it.

Right now Hajime Hinata was probably having fun with the others. Well, searching around, chasing after the non-existent bombs was not exactly fun, but…

Nagito let out a quiet, short sob. From the pain, surely, only from that. The torture had ended long ago, and most of his body felt numb and distant, but the burning sensation all over it was still nothing short of agony. He knew he deserved it all. To suffer until his last breath; a fitting end for him.

Even now, why was his mind still clinging to Hajime Hinata?

He didn’t know how much time had passed, or how much he had left. Minutes passed, and he felt like each of them was an hour. Or maybe those really were hours? Nagito was not sure. He was trying not to move, but his body was still trembling, with occasional convulsive motions shaking him up. Something was breaking inside him, he could tell. He had tried to make the blood loss slow, with the stab wounds facing upwards and the knife remaining impaled into his hand, making the bleeding weaker. All to hold on long enough for the traitor to kill him. All for the sake of fixing his mistake.

He’ll die alone.

All he wanted now was to hear Hajime’s voice once again.

Hajime wasn’t perfect. Hajime was, in reality, just a scared, stupid kid. But he tried to help. Even if it was not enough, he really tried. He didn’t understand, but he wanted to understand; he was trying to understand. He needed just a little bit more time.

Or that was what Nagito chose to think.

Finally, he heard a sound that was not the repeating music. It was the roar of a fire as the curtain ignited to his right, the blaze chasing away the creeping darkness. All Nagito could see was his own blood. He tried not to look, staring at the ceiling instead. There were voices… Akane and Kazuichi, yelling loudly, but he still couldn’t make out the words. Sonia mentioned the fire grenades…

It will end soon, and he didn’t know if that brought more fear or relief.

He just wanted a confirmation that Hajime Hinata was real. That he did care in his own awkward way. It was so pathetic. The way was he still clinging to this idiot, this moron, this traitor… Sadly, not the one from the Future Foundation –  instead he betrayed the very idea of hope.

But Hajime did come to him in that hospital. He volunteered to help Mikan. He helped him to get up, and assisted him as they went there… That was all reality, right?

Something whistled. The sound of broken glass followed. The fire was closer than Nagito thought, and he suddenly felt hot, even more than he previously did with the disease. The smoke filled his nose and the music continued to play. The poison was probably spreading from somewhere already.

For some reason, he tried to hold his breath.

He wanted to stay there just for a bit longer, just to hear something, anything that Hajime would say. It didn’t matter what. It didn’t matter how. He just was clinging to this irrational, pathetic wish.

No matter who Hajime Hinata was, Nagito loved him.

His body grew too weak. He felt like his consciousness was about to leave him at any second as his vision now filled with colorful flickering spots. The spear was dangling above him – that was all he could see… He closed his eyes… Just the sounds. Focus on the sounds. On hearing Hajime’s sweet voice once again.

The next thing he felt was his hand slipping.

The flash of fear in his mind was not fast enough to make him tighten his grip again. Before the blow, all he could do was scream.

The pain didn’t come this time. All that followed was a cacophony of sounds, of all kinds of things in the human body getting torn apart and destroyed. The wet, sickening noise of steel going through his skin and flesh was all too familiar, but the loud crunch that followed still made Nagito flinch, something primordial inside him saying it was not right. He just hoped that it was his ribcage, not his spine. Why so, he had no idea, as he knew a long time ago it was the end for him anyway.

Unable to hold on any longer, he finally took a deep breath.

He expected the poisonous gas to burn his lungs, to make him choke, but instead it just made him feel sleepy and numb. His body finally stopped shaking, all his sensations fading away slowly. For some reason, he opened his eyes again. The sounds, he was still trying to focus on the sounds…

The voices didn’t come again, and soon the fire and even the music faded away, as if he was hearing them through a wall of water. As his consciousness finally left him, all that remained was his own muffled scream that was ringing loudly in his ears until it got stuck in his throat, his expression distorted into a look of fear and agony.

No matter what Hajime could think or feel about him, seeing that expression engraved on his face brought him nothing but guilt, regrets and nightmares.

Chapter 6: The Day Before the Future

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

Of course, Hajime knew nobody in the room could hear him, but it felt right to ask this question anyway. He looked at the person behind the glass pod with an expression that could be described as a weird mix of both hope and resignation, determination and fatalism. He will work on it. He will, eventually, wake everyone up. He just knew it wouldn’t happen right now, as some sort of magical miracle. After all, if something as small as words would be enough to break a person out of a deep trauma-induced coma caused by their brain accepting they were dead, why would anyone train doctors and nurses and surgeons?

He wasn’t sure why he kept coming there, because it made no sense, and the fact that he was actively trying to talk to someone who gives him as much of a reaction as the wall of glass between them made even less sense, but…

It would be just too sad to leave Nagito completely alone.

So Hajime came to visit him… occasionally. Not every day, like Sonia did with Gundham, or Fuyuhiko – with Peko. But definitely more often than to anyone else on that island. Recognizing it made him feel… weird. He sighed, unknowingly placing his hand against the glass, tapping his fingers slightly. Of course, there’s no reaction.

“Why do I still want to talk to you so much?” Hajime asked, talking to both himself and the boy in the pod. Really, why? By all logical means, he should hate him. His rational mind told him to fear him. He knew it was weird, to hold this much attachment to someone who tried to kill you twice. And yet…

All his efforts to hate Nagito was always weak and vain, and all the grudges he could hold vanished the second he saw the boy’s dead body. When he came closer and closer to the truth behind the murder, he still felt fear, and anger, and he wanted to yell that this was messed up and wrong and not fair and what the actual fuck, but… As soon as he said final goodbyes and stumbled to his cottage, barely awake, trying to forget that day like it was a bad dream, all that was left was just sadness and guilt and inability to comprehend why in the world would anyone wish – and not only wish, but also actively inflict – that awful torture upon themselves.

At least now he looked peaceful, sleeping behind the pod, lying without movements except for his chest raising up and down, showing that he’s still breathing, still alive, that there’s still some hope for him left. His face was calm, eyes and mouth closed, with no signs of any pain or fear and discomfort to be seen. Hajime focused on it, trying to remember it like this, as if it would erase the horrific imagery he saw in the stimulation, still vivid before his eyes.

It wasn’t real.

But the emotions and thoughts that caused Nagito to plan and do it were. He can’t ignore them.

Hajime wanted to understand them. Because only after understanding them, could he fight them.

He sighed again, standing up from his chair, removing his hand from the pod. Before leaving, he took another quick glance at the boy…

Was he giving him too much credit? Thinking about it, there was nothing that could guarantee he wouldn’t just try to murder them again if… when he finally wakes up. Hajime shook his head, trying to chase away that thought.

That thought, wasn’t it the same that caused Nagito to try to kill them all? Hajime knew he shouldn’t give up to it. He was preparing to show it wasn’t true. To prove that each one of them deserved a second chance. A chance to build a new shining future.

“I will come again soon.”

---

“Hey… I have researched your medical files…”

Hajime spoke quietly, still knowing nobody could hear him, and this probably had made his voice even more sad. Of course, Nagito didn’t answer, giving no signs that he’s listening, or even that he’s alive, although the latter was proven by the image on the monitor checking his vital signs, and his quiet, even breathing – a little bit too even, Hajime would say.

Three weeks had passed since the first person woke up, and it gave a much-needed morale boost to everyone who remained on Jabberwock Island. A ray of hope, Hajime would say, but using that word in this context didn’t seem right anymore. Mikan Tsumiki had opened her eyes at that morning, scared and confused and too intimidated to even leave her pod for hours, but thankfully Despair Disease didn’t seem to carry on into the real world. After that, the process of waking everyone up was slowed down a bit, since a lot of effort was spent on explaining everything to her, and making sure to deal with any complications in time.

But after that, everyone doubled their efforts. As the idea of waking their friends up turned from a miracle into a plausible possibility, Hajime could see the light return into Sonia’s and Fuyuhiko’s eyes, as he saw the princess leave Gundham’s side without trails on her cheek for the first time since their arrival on the real Jabberwock Island. They all were working, now knowing that their efforts would be eventually rewarded.

And Mikan was happy to join them. It was actually her idea to check everyone’s medical profiles – it would help to adjust the amount and the quality of food and meds they were getting, and to take care of any medical issues, if anyone had them. And, as Hajime figured out soon, they had a lot…

Reading Nekomaru’s file was just… painful. He was lucky Mikan got to wake up so fast – without extra meds and care from the nurse, he could’ve been dead before ever opening his eyes again.

And Nagito’s… Hajime didn’t know many of all those fancy medical words in his profile, but he clearly understood one thing – by all odds, he should’ve already been long dead.

But he wasn’t, instead continuing to plague Hajime’s mind with his existence, making him think and think and think about him, and everything he said and did way too much…

“When you said that… you have not much time left, and it would be too lonely to die alone, I didn’t know if I should believe you,” Hajime said, still not waiting for an answer, taking a seat in a chair conveniently placed near the capsule. “In fact, I probably just… didn’t want to believe it. Just like you didn’t want me to get too close, I didn’t want to let my weird… attraction grow stronger than it already was,” – he sighed. He still didn’t know why was he coming back to talk to a wall of glass, but if he wanted to get it all off his chest, Nagito was as good of a listener as anyone. After all, everyone else here has too much of their own emotional baggage to deal with.

“I want to say ‘damn, I wish I could figure it out earlier’, but in fact I just… chose to run away, didn’t I?” he asked, looking at Nagito attentively, trying to find any motion, any reaction, even if it was just his eyelids trembling or his mouth twitching, but there was nothing.

If he was awake, what would he say?

Would he put himself down, saying nobody should care about stuff like this anyway, every self-loathing remark hitting harder now, when Hajime knew it wasn’t all just for attention? Would he sneer and giggle, saying he’s surprised a Reserve Course fool like him could figure it out at all, pretending it’s impressive that he’s even able to read? Would he still try to take it back? Would he just ask to be left alone?

Hajime didn’t know, and this lack of knowledge was the worst. But at least now he knew it was possible to figure it out.

To fix it all.

This time he left without saying anything.

---

“Hello there… At least, now I have a good excuse to come.”

Hajime scratched the back of his head with his right hand, smiling slightly, holding a bucket full of cloths in his other one. At first, the manner of still gesturing, mimicking, adding intonations to his voice while talking to his sleeping classmates seemed weird to him. Now, he wished to keep it. By treating them like living people, he could remind himself they’re still alive. They would wake up.

Hajime came closer to the pod. After a short hesitation, he opened it. Thankfully, people in the capsules were still able to breathe properly, and support their own heartbeat. Their conscious minds were just… not responding. They’re just sleeping, they’re not dead, Hajime repeated again, looking at Nagito’s calm, pale face.

“Mikan told me your immune system is weakened and even the smallest sickness can turn into huge trouble when it comes to you, so we should keep you nice and warm,” he explained, and he didn’t know to who, but doing something like this without words felt a bit too awkward. “So I decided to bring you some warm blankets…” – Hajime’s face ran red for some reason, and the fact that it happened even when he knew for sure nobody could see or hear him anyway only made him feel more awkward.

He put his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. First, he needed to place the cloth under his body, so he lifted him up slightly, making him take a sitting position. He didn’t react. Didn’t respond. His skin was really pale and unnaturally cold. It was almost the same as turning around the hand of the corpse, to examine the blood pattern… Hajime shook his head quickly. He shouldn’t think about it in this way. He carefully placed a blanket over Nagito’s shoulders and gently put him back, returning to a lying position. Then took another one, and covered his chest. He was breathing. The corpse had not been breathing. There were no wounds and not a single drop of blood, but Hajime couldn’t shake the sense of uneasiness completely.

There was a hand in the pod, and it was not Nagito’s hand. Hajime preferred to not think about it when he covered it with another piece of cloth.

His hand… At first, Hajime thought they should just cut it off. But for some reason, it wasn’t rotting, and didn’t seem to affect anything in Nagito’s body at all, as if was just a morbid accessory he was wearing instead of a decaying piece of human flesh. Junko’s Enoshima’s flesh that he decided to made into a part of himself.

Another part of himself that Hajime needed to figure out. To understand. To accept. He touched Junko’s hand lightly. It was cold. He traced his finger up, to Nagito’s own shoulder, just to make sure it was a bit less cold. He waited for a short minute, until it could become warm. Only after that he closed the pod and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

So he did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He felt like he needed to.

---

“Hello… I hope Mikan was gentle with you today…”

Talking to Nagito didn’t feel weird anymore, probably because Hajime was doing it for so long. He came closer to the pod, hesitant, clutching a small box to his chest. He was the only one who kept visiting that place, except Sonia, who was coming to everyone and insisting that no friend should be abandoned since Gundham woke up, and Mikan, who was now taking care of them, moving their limbs and massaging them so their muscles wouldn’t atrophy from not being used.

Hajime offered his help. So did Sonia, and Mahiru. But Mikan insisted on doing it all alone, because nobody else was qualified enough, and to not feel useless, Hajime suspected, but of course he would never say such a thing.

“Everyone is waking up, slowly, but surely. The first was Mikan. Probably because knowing it was not real made it easier to her brain to cope. Then it was Mahiru, Hiyoko, Ibuki… and now Nekomaru and Gundham are with us as well,” he spoke with a slight smile, unable to contain the pride in his voice completely. But there was no reaction, as always, and it quickly made him frown again as he sat down near the pod.

How would Nagito even react? Would he be happy of this “hopeful” outcome, praising everyone for defeating Junko and overcoming their despair? Would he be mad that the incarnations of everything he hated were allowed to live again? Would he feel defeated? Maybe he could celebrate this defeat.

He surely wouldn’t be lying there so calmly, breathing slowly.

In this state, he couldn’t hurt and confuse them anymore. Couldn’t do anything dumb and stupid and dangerous to himself and others. Couldn’t bring any more pain to them. And to himself.

Couldn’t see the hopeful outcomes he was yearning for. Couldn’t help them to achieve it. Couldn’t drop roundabout hints and silent clues leading to the goal they pursued. Couldn’t explore the real Jabberwock, much bigger and grander, with Hajime. Couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t make him feel special.

Now, when he didn't have to fear for his life, the thought that everything good and bad was now not here started to sink in again, making his chest heavy. He felt guilt. For deciding to take the offer and joining Kamukura project, mostly. For starting the mess they all found themselves in, for letting Junko sneak in, allowing her to drag them all into an awful killing game, and eventually to tell Nagito what he shouldn’t have known.

Of course, there was something more personal in this guilt too. He felt the regret of not taking more effort to reach out. To understand. To show more kindness… Would that be enough? Hajime wasn’t sure. Actually, he was more sure that only that wouldn’t have been enough to stop the tragedy from happening… But he still regretted not trying. Not taking a chance, just standing there, watching how someone who he once called a friend succumbs to his own insanity at best, and actively speeding up the process at worst, clueless what to do.

Hajime shook his head. It was the person who tried to kill him, he had to remind himself. The one who was ready to confuse them, mess with them, make them scared for their lives, actually risk their lives, all for the sake of a weird idea he still couldn’t completely understand. But he wanted to understand… no, needed to.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked again, still not sure why and for what. That phrase was… special for him, probably. Like a symbol, a memory of a kind, carefree boy who once helped him when he was in need. Approached him and tried to be his friend. He spent hours and days trying to figure out how much of that boy was real, and how much was just a twisted, cruel lie. And how he was still looking at him. Nagito’s eyelids twitched slightly in a barely noticeable motion, as if he was seeing a dream.

What he was dreaming of? Was it a happy and hopeful world, or the one where they all burned in hell, dragged there by Monokuma’s claws? Hajime wished to know it.

“I brought you something,” he suddenly spoke, opening a box hesitantly. Inside was a mechanical hand, fancy, cold and shiny. “I asked Kazuichi to make this for you… Convincing the Future Foundation to allocate resources for this was pain in the ass, Makoto said,” he added with a slight smile. He imagined Nagito with shining eyes, clapping his hands and gushing about how great Makoto, The True Ultimate Hope is, and it was enough to elicit a soft giggle.

“And, um, these are from me,” Hajime said hesitantly, putting the hand on the table near the pod and taking out what was underneath it. “These are books. After you wake up, we would have to place you under watch until we’re convinced you aren’t immediate threat to yourself and others… so you’ll probably need them for a while,” he explained with a soft smile. Nagito still didn’t react, without the slightest movement on his face, but Hajime was ready to swear he now looked at him slightly mockingly.

“Hey, you would be more grateful if you knew how hard was to get these on this damn island. There’s no convenient, perfectly-organized library with everything in excellent condition waiting for you,” he spoke with slight annoyance, but the soft smile never left his face. “These are detective books… Figured out you’d like them from looking around your cottage…” – he frowned slightly, trying not to think about the context of that visit. “Although I have no idea if you do like them or just used them to create and solve all those mysteries…” – he sighed. He probably was just overthinking. Nagito was just a person, he had to remind himself. A person who was allowed to just like and dislike some things.

If Hajime was more open to the thought that he was not as incomprehensible as he seemed from the beginning, the story could’ve ended differently.

This time, it will end differently…!

“Hope we’ll get to enjoy them soon together,” Hajime said, putting the hand back in the box and leaving it besides the pod. “I would read them for you now, but that would be too stupid, right…?” he asked, looking at the other boy, who was still lying there, quiet and motionless and unable to answer… but alive. Breathing and thinking. His face still didn’t move an inch, and the expression of sadness was surely just Hajime’s all-too-vivid imagination, amplified by stress and overworking himself…

“Okay, okay. Just one chapter, no more,” he said with a sigh, opening the book and thinking what he would say to Mikan and Kazuichi when they would eventually ask what took him so long.

---

Nagito’s consciousness was drifting in and out, as his weak and broken and failing body was clinging to its life desperately when all his mind wanted was a swift, merciful end. He didn’t even have the energy to convince himself it was what should’ve happened to people like him, to those who are too weak and too easy to break and drag to despair – he was just wishing, pleading, begging for it to stop already. Even now, his limbs continued to try to jerk away from the fire, all the pathetic attempts at motion with muscles that shouldn’t be able to move prolonging the pain that should’ve ended long ago.

Flashes of agony were followed by periods of numbness, while he was drifting away in daze, feeling like his body no longer belonged to him. It probably didn’t, as he couldn’t recall the last time when he was moving consciously, by his own free will… Right now he was feeling nothing except the pressure of the metal that got a bit stronger as he took each breath, and a bit weaker as he let it out. He tried to ignore it, to not think about what was causing it.

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

The voice in his head was all too clear, way closer and louder than the music, and the fire, and his own quiet muffled screams. It was Hajime’s voice, he recognized immediately. The voice he was searching for for so long… Of course, Hajime couldn’t have been that close. It was his imagination running wild, he knew it, but he still found the strength to feel a little grateful for this small gift from his delirious consciousness. He was living in delusions for so long, so why not allow himself that weakness one more time?

“Are you okay?” the voice repeated, now even closer, and he could’ve sworn he felt someone leaning over him if he didn’t know for a fact it was not possible, unless Hajime somehow found out the new talent of running through the fire and breathing highly toxic substances without any harm to his sweet, calming voice. “You look like you’re hurt, is it your hand?” – the voice now was worried and concerned. His hand… He tried to twitch his fingers, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“Hey, open your eyes, I see you aren’t sleeping anymore.” – the voice became demanding, annoyed even. Hajime being annoyed and not worried or concerned, it seemed like his delusions started to fit into reality a bit more, imitating it better. He sighed, and it suddenly made him realize he wasn’t screaming anymore.

He obeyed, opening his eyes, and immediately squinted from the bright light, instinctively covering his eyes with his left hand. His left hand… for some reason, it wasn’t tied up or injured anymore, he noticed as he slowly got used to the light. Hajime was leaning over him slightly, his face worried and uncertain. He wasn’t lying on the floor in the warehouse, that thought was slow to come and hard to sink in, but the floor beneath him was warm and soft, there was no knife and no spear in his flesh, and not a single drop of his blood was shed there anymore. His body wasn’t too numb to the pain – there was just no pain, and that feeling was so alien and unfamiliar it almost made him feel dizzy from the sudden switch.

“You must be so confused right now,” Hajime said quietly, as if he didn’t want to scare him off. Nagito blinked, and looked at his hand… It wasn’t his anymore, and realizing that evoked a flash of memories, distant and not so distant, forgotten and not so forgotten.

Hope’s Peak Academy. Chiaki Nanami, lying in a pool of her own blood. Junko Enoshima. The Tragedy. Neo World Program. Fixing what they’d done and giving the world’s future back to it… These words and concepts were familiar, but not enough to make total sense.

“Probably more confused than I was there on the beach,” Hajime spoke again, this time with a nostalgic smile. The beach and the killing game, those were the parts he remembered all too well, but still failed to make sense of. “But don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything. After a mandatory physical and mental health check up, of course…” – he smiled awkwardly.

Nagito wasn’t sure how to respond, with so many emotions twisting in his head to the point where he was unable to feel any of them properly. He probably should’ve been mad, enraged that his scheme failed, if Hajime was still alive… But for now he thought he should just obey until he knows more.

Hajime reached out his hand, smiling.

If it was reality, he could gladly accept this reality.

If it wasn’t, he would enjoy whatever his mind prepared until it gets crushed, to make the suffering from seeing it crumble more deserved.

But Hajime seemed so real, more real than on the beach, more real than anything he had seen in his life.

Nagito reached back and allowed him to grab his hand.

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

Who lives and who dies - Part 11

Angst, nothing but angst here, sorry folks but no soft hugs today. Slight trigger warning for self sacrificing thoughts and lots of mentions of death so make sure you take care of yourself when reading. Slight title changes to the previous chapter might be made because this chapter, the previous chapter, and the next chapter are going to be sort of a 3 parter. Also all relationships in this are strictly platonic unless I specify otherwise. Comments and asks are always welcome :)

Masterlist 

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

“Four, Five, Six.”

Dream doesn't want this. He can't kill Tommy, he can't. Despite the young boy's protests, Tommy’s only a child, he’s got his whole life ahead of him. He’s supposed to grow up and go to college and have a good fucking life away from all of this violence and chaos. He’s supposed to have a family and a home and find somewhere where he feels like he belongs, because god knows Dream wants those things. He wants to have a life that isn't threatened by someone elses greed or power hungry revenge plots. He wants to have a home for him and his cat where he can watch movies and grow plants and not have to worry about being shot in his sleep. He wants friends that care more about his well being than what bank they're going to rob next. He wants to go back to before any of this ever happened, when sapnap was kinder and didn’t carry a gun with him every time he left the apartment, when George and him would sit up on the roof until 3am stargazing and talking about George's dream to become a streamer. But now he feels like those people he knew are gone, replaced with violent and destructive tyrants that he can't even recognise.

Dream wants to turn around and give Tommy the biggest hug, he wants to comfort his friend brother and just let Sapnap and George rip him to shreds with their bullets and words. He wants to choose Tommy, he wants to punch George in the face and scream at him for hurting someone he considered family.

But wasn't George his family at some point?

It feels like a lifetime ago, but he knows that they are supposed to be close, closer than they have been in months. The stress and pressure forced a divide between all three of them, with dream on one side and George and sapnap on the other. They haven't had a proper conversation that didn't end in a fight in weeks, let alone actually be nice to one another. Dream can barely remember the last time any of them said they loved one another.

No, that's a lie.

Dream remembers the night perfectly, he thinks about it every time he storms off from another one of his and Georges fights. All three of them were together, sat in a comfortable silence with bellies full of fast food and blankets draped lazily over themselves. Dream is sat in the middle of the other two boys after a super intense pillow fight that Dream had been forced to put a stop to. Sapnap has his feet in Dreams lap, his head is rolled back and every now and again little snores escape from his mouth. George jokes about how much of a child Sapnap is and it makes Dream chuckle. They sit in silence for a while, just letting the movie George chose entertain them for a while. George's head sets itself on Dreams shoulder and Dream shuffles so he can lean into George more. 

“I’m tired.”

Dream laughs and tugs the blanket he and George are sharing further up their body's.

“Go to sleep then stupid.”

George minorly attacks Dream for the comment, but it’s a very lazy attempt.

“Don't wanna.”

“Go to sleep George.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine, goodnight Dream, Love you”

“Love you two moron, g’night.”

George moves slightly so he can get more comfortable before raising his voice slightly.

“Love you sapnap.”

Sapnap gives a small snore in response and the two boys fall into a hushed fit of laughter.

But as Dream looks at his best friend ( Can he even call him that anymore ) he doesn't even know who he’s looking at anymore. Sure maybe Sapnap was always a bit unhinged, a bit too trigger happy, but when everything's said and done, when everyone goes home and tries to pretend that life is normal for a short while, Sapnap takes off the mask ( Quite literally ) and Dream can see that he’s still the same Sapnap underneath it all. But as he looks at George, he can only see his own reflection in the tainted glass of his goggles. Maybe this is God mocking him for what his friend has become. Maybe this is his fault, his fault he dragged George into his own twisted fantasies. Who was he to catapult an innocent person into this life, George had barely even learnt how to shoot a gun on their first heist. He wishes he had just let George stick to hacking, there was no need to bring him into the limelight. He could have stopped this. He could have stopped George from becoming this monster. He could have

Fuck

Dream considers what would happen if he just let Tommy kill him. Sure he would be dead, but other than that was there really a downside? It sounds so morbid when he thinks about it, in any other circumstance maybe he would be worried about his self sacrificing behavior, but maybe this was just what he had to do. If Tommy shot him and he died, then yeah Tommy would be devastated, he would be sad for a while but at least he would be safe. The boy would finally have a home, somewhere he could be safe. He thinks he trusts Wilbur enough to take care of Tommy, he’s done okay so far in Dreams books anyway. Who knows, maybe one day Techno would return and put a stop to all of this nonsense, he would scoop Tommy up and take him away from all this, away from this wretched place. 

But he knows that’s just a fantasy. He doubts George would just willingly give the l’manburgians the eastside, if he thought George would have been that kind then Dream would have stepped down a long time ago.

Fuck why is this so hard

He should let Tommy kill him. It’s the easiest option, he can't kill Tommy, he doesn't want to. Nothing will be fixed if the kid is dead. So why is he hesitating? Maybe it’s because he knows that no matter what he does, Tommy will be hurt. If Dream dies George will take over and make everybody's lives a living hell, Tommy will most likely be killed anyway and all of his friends will either follow down the same path or be run out of their homes with a target on all of their heads. Maybe, if he...

Shit

Maybe if he did kill Tommy, he could make it up to the kid some way. He could make sure his friends are taken care of, make sure George doesn't go anywhere near them, give them independence. He could make sure Tubbo grows up to be smart and make something of himself, if he wanted to go to college then Dream could fund it, make sure he went to the best school, or whichever one Tubbo liked best. He could help Wilbur with his music career, Tommy said he had always wanted to become a musician, so maybe he could rent out one of those fancy recording studios people like The Beatles had. He could help Fundy when he gets into trouble coding and help Eret set up an lgbt youth center or something like that. He could bring Tommy flowers every other day, and then every weekend if he really couldn't make it. Maybe he could get a bouquet of some of those wildflowers he said were pretty when they went out adventuring that one time. 

What the hell is he talking about

This is insane

He needs to focus

Come on dream, focus

“Seven, eight, nine.”

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

It’s almost sunset and Tommy is barely thirteen. He hasn't had a warm meal in weeks, not that anybody else knows that, but the glowing light on his face makes him feel full. It’s nice being away from the city like this, just looking out across fields of wildflowers and long grass that makes his nose itch. Nobody knows he’s out here, but then again is there really anyone out there to care? Maybe he’s just destined to be alone, to roam through places like this and drift off into the wilderness never to be seen again. If every moment was like this one then maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if it were then at least he wouldn't be so pale. 

He sits there for a while, just letting the light blanket his body. It's...calming. Tommy misses this. What he misses exactly he’s not sure of, but the feeling of being embraced makes him nostalgic, and it hits him with a wave of overwhelming sadness. The saying ‘Tommyinnit doesn't cry’ is rarely actually the truth. He misses being around people, actual people that don't want to try and mug him or steal his spot in the alley with the least rats. Sure maybe he speaks to Technoblade every now and again, but it's not like the anarchist actually cares about him. Tommy only speaks to Techno when he wants something from him, like if he needs the blond to squeeze into small spaces or spray paint some symbols on a corporate building. Tommy always gets a cut of whatever profits they make that day and then he gets to sleep in a warm bed at the shitty motel for a day or two. It’s fine though, like he said, maybe he’s just destined to be alone. He basks in the light for a little while longer, until suddenly theirs a voice behind him

“It’s late.”

Shit, shit, shit.

Tommy quickly wipes away his tears and hunches over on himself.

“Uh yeah um, I guess I lost track of time.”

“Do you even know what time it is?”

“Uh yeah it's like seven ish.”

“Nine.”

Nine! Shit, all the god spots by the fast food place are bound to be taken by now.

“Shouldn't you be getting home.”

Home, what even is home anymore. The alleyway sure doesn't feel like home. But what else has he got. Phil probably hates him by now, he took that home for granted. None of the other foster families before that had even come close to becoming a home, and he can barely remember what life with his parents was like. So what is home?

“Tommy.”

“Oh uh, yeah sorry Technoblade. I’ll just be going now.”

Tommy gets up to leave but Techno grabs his arm firmly and holds him in place.

“About today.”

He's going to get shouted at, he can feel it. It was his fault they almost got caught, he just couldn't shoot that man. He’d never been in the action directly before, only ever doing menial tasks from the sidelines. But today Techno wanted help in the field and who was he to say no to the blade. It was his fault, he couldn't kill someone and now Techno is going to abandon him and he’s going to starve to death in the shittiest fucking alleyway know to man.

“It's okay if you're not ready.”

“What?”

“It's okay if you're not ready to kill people yet.”

“I- It is?”

“It’s okay to not want to kill people Tommy, but sometimes you don't always have that choice. When the moment comes, and it will come one day, you have to decide in that moment who lives and who dies, you or them."

"W-what if I don't want to die."

"Then make sure the other person does."

Tommy waits for a while, and lets a breath escape from his lips. Maybe there's still time to find a good spot for tonight, if he leave now he can-

“Now come on, I’m making pasta.”

Technoblade turns to leave and Tommy just stands in place, his mouth agape and eyes wide.

“Hurry up child before I change my mind.”

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

Tommy gets a warm meal and comfy bed that night, and the night after that, and the night after that, and every night leading up to his sixteenth birthday before there's no one left to cook him pasta or pay rent. Before he meets the next criminal willing to give him a home and keep him safe, before he finds friends and a family and a home. Then someone else cooks him pasta and keeps him company, until he starts a war and gets people killed and all of a sudden Tommy realises that the moment Technoblade had warned him of was coming to a head. 

He has to decide in this moment who lives and who dies, him or dream

And he has to do it now.

“Ten paces, Fire!”

[criminalminds4days]

Let Him Go (S.R.)

Hello Friends!!

I am doing finals so I decided the best choice for me was to write a long Spencer Reid Fanfiction. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: None, except mentions of murder, and violence. Swear words.

**************************************************************************************

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” The words came out before she could think them through. She knew exactly what he needed because she wanted it too, but she just couldn’t say it, it frightened her.

“Really? You don’t know what to say?” He scoffed, ready to give up all hope. “I love you; I’ve loved you for years… I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you, but I need to know if that is something that’s ever gonna happen. I can’t keep going like this, I am done playing games, I am done going in a circle.” He was hurt, his brown eyes reflected it perfectly, the tears that threaten to escape him almost made her break. 

Almost.

“I can’t give you what you want.” It was true, and it wasn’t because she didn’t want to, of course, she wanted to grow old with him, wake up next to him every single day, but the fear that engulfed her, of one day him realizing he could do much better and walking up and leaving, that was enough to ground her. 

She wasn’t ready. She repeated to herself, hoping one day it would be believable.

“Then I guess that settles it.” His voice broke, knowing full well what this meant for them, “I can’t keep doing this and you can. We are simply not at the age where it’s for fun. I need stability, I need a partner who knows what they want in a relationship and that is obviously not you.” A sole tear left his face, hiding underneath his chin. “I really wish it was.” He mumbled as he left the room. There it was, the image she feared so much, caused solely by her actions, it was better now than later, she reminded herself but that did not make the heartbreak any less painful.

Spencer Reid, her colleague, friend, and for the past three years, her lover. They had met in 2005, after she had joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, quickly bonding over their shared love for books, despite her hatred of some of the classics, as they were often referred to. Soon enough, those brown eyes, that awkward smile, and his tall figure had become engraved in her brain to the point in which she could no longer ignore it. She kissed him and that was the best decision she had ever made.

For three years they had been happy, and it seemed to everybody that soon enough they would be engaged, married, and with kids. When the conversation of this possible future arose between them, she couldn’t help but panic, leading to their current situation. He had left her, and she regretted every minute she didn’t run after him. She was going to run after him, she really was but as soon as her hand touched the doorknob she stopped herself. 

Fear. 

It was stupid, she knew it was, but it was paralyzing her in place, preventing her from ever reaching for that happy family she hoped to have with him one day.

Years went by, her regret never subsiding.

Why was she there?

It was clear this was a mistake; she knew it was. He was getting married and she simply sat there, wishing it was her who he smiled at, who he was gonna have a family with. Nonetheless, there she was, watching the man she loved get married, while she remembered that day, five years ago, in which she let him go. She smiled at the couple and congratulated them. She toasted, danced, smiled, laughed, and joked all while her heart was being torn to pieces at the sight of the happy newlyweds. That was the moment she decided she couldn’t stay. The offer she had been considering finally making sense. It was time to leave the BAU, time to leave the heartbreak, and time to leave Spencer Reid for good. She hoped the woman he was marrying would be horrible, that she could hate her, but Maeve Donovan was anything but. She was a kind soul, smart beyond reason, with all truthfulness, she could just see how she made Spencer happy and that was enough to eradicate all hope for hate.

Starting over was painful, saying goodbye was painful, but it was necessary. When he asked what prompted her decision she said, “I think I need to take the next step in my life.” He nodded and wished her nothing but the best and she smiled, not wanting to tell him she felt she had already lost it. When she arrived at her new office in Paris, she couldn’t properly appreciate the fact that her dream home was now her actual home. Her room growing up had been filled with Eiffel towers, and by the age of twelve, she was fluent in the language of the city of love. Granted, it helped that her parents both spoke English and Spanish, so learning French was a breeze.

She began work and soon found herself so immersed in it, she didn’t realize there was a life she left behind, there were friends she had not contacted in years. It wasn’t until she saw Emily Prentiss and heard what happened that she realized just how much she had forgotten when she decided to leave. She allowed her old coworker to take her out of her comfort zone and soon enough she found herself dating a tall dark-haired man named Liam Gardner, that happened to work as an undercover agent, just like her. Was there something about dating coworkers that got to her? She laughed at the suggestion.

It had been a year since she had dated this man when he asked her, she was in the same position she had been almost a decade ago and the regret of that night, and how strongly she felt for the man in front of her, made her answer different. It made her realize he couldn’t lose him like she had lost Spencer. “Yes, I do want to marry you.” She found herself saying, and for once, her life was on track.

She wasn’t terrified, and that was her first mistake. She figured it out on their first anniversary, as she patiently waited for him at their favorite restaurant, the Eiffel Tower shining in the distance, and the diamond ring that never left her hand, unless she was within a job, reflected the lights of the establishment.

“Excuse moi, mademoiselle?” A man had approached her, and her gut told her something was wrong. Her husband had infiltrated an organization that sold kids around the world, he hated the idea more than anything, but didn’t give a second thought to the offer, he loved children and would do anything to make sure more kids were safe. He had been organizing a raid that would tear down the whole system two days ago and he would be home just in time for their anniversary. But something went wrong, the operation was messier than they expected, and he was caught in the crossfire.

He died a hero.

People reminded her, but that didn’t mean much when the man she loved was buried six feet under. Once again, she experienced the loss she was so afraid of, and once again he reminded herself how this was what she was destined for, and she was a fool to think otherwise.

How long had it been? A year since he passed? She wasn’t quite sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the ring off. Her phone rang and she almost didn’t recognize the voice on the other side “Hey, It’s me JJ.” Jennifer Jareau, one of her ex-coworkers spoke on the other side. She didn’t have much of a long history with JJ, but that was partly because of her history with Spencer, who happened to be the blonde woman on the other side of the phone’s best friend. Despite their estrangement, after the woman said “We need you” she immediately accepted and grabbed her bag, buying the first plane tickets available to her, letting Emily know where she was going. Once she was on the plane she realized she did not even know why she had been summoned by her old team.

“Catch me up.” Were the first words that she said to the people in front of her.

She wanted to say hello and maybe even hug them, but as soon as she saw them she knew she had to get down to business.

His voice came out so broken, so hurt that she couldn’t help but want to hug him how she used to. It had been almost five years since she last saw him, but underneath his longer hair, and his very visible facial hair and his overwhelmingly sad eyes, was the man she once loved. “It’s Maeve, she’s been kidnapped.” That phrase returned her to the present. “You are the best when it comes to stalker cases and I can’t even make a coherent thought, please help us.” She nodded, as if they didn’t already know she would do anything in her power for any of them, but especially the brunette.

She forced herself to not draw parallels between his situation and the night she lost her husband, but it was impossible not to, especially when she knew that everything was lost. They entered the warehouse after they heard the gunshot, to find them at odds. Spencer begging to take Maeve’s place and the woman holding his wife hostage questioning how much he was willing to give up for her. Too late she realized what was going to happen, too late did she aim and shoot, too late to change any outcome but the one in front of their eyes. Her shot was wasted, landing on the wall directly behind the woman who now laid on the floor, covered in her and Reid’s wife's blood, both of them gone. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing she couldn’t stop her, knowing it was her fault Spencer’s wife was dead.

She couldn’t say goodbye and she couldn’t look him in the eye every again, so she sent a simple text to Hotch:

I got a case, I had to leave. Tell Reid I am really sorry.

That was it, no goodbye, no see you guys later, no hugs, and no catching up. She should have stayed home, she shouldn’t have gone knowing what she causes, once again she was reminded of the luck she carried around, affecting those she loved.

“It is not your fault!” Emily said.

“Of course it is, they needed me. Spencer and Maeve needed me, and I failed them.” She couldn’t stop the tears for much longer, but she tried.

“No, you didn’t you did everything you could.”

“Did I? Did I really? Because that’s what I tell myself every time I look at this ring and remember sitting in a restaurant wondering why he’s not there while he was dead. That’s what I told myself when I fired my gun too late to stop the woman even though I knew exactly what she was going to do.”

“Stop it! Stop blaming yourself for things you cannot control!” Emily stood from her chair, the frustration clear in her eyes. “I will not watch the closest friend I have throw a self-pity party when she knows full well these things are not something that our luck creates. There are sick people in this world, and you can’t keep blaming yourself for any of it! I will not allow you to!” After that, the woman left and the tears fell.

It had been at least three weeks since that discussion, Emily and she had made up but her friend had to go into hiding once again, knowing full well that the level of exposure she had because of their friendship could put her in danger, making her yet another person she couldn’t help. There was a knock at the door, and she presumed it was the woman mentioned, excited she opened the door to be faced with a tall brown-haired man with sad brown eyes and a satchel that she knew too well.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Hotch made me take time off, and I didn’t want to be alone… I didn’t know where to go and I just… I ended up here.”

“Oh.”

“Can I come in?”

She questioned it for a moment, not sure how she could deny him anything but also afraid of how her guilt would get the best of her. “Sure.” She said finally and moved, letting Spencer Reid enter her home like she had done so many times before, and yet this time it felt different. Her house was never the same after her husband was gone, their pictures still stayed, some in the coffee table and bookshelf, one of their wedding pictures in their room and album upon album he had made for their home once they had moved in together. Her new home gave a different feeling than her small impersonal apartment in Washington D.C. that had no pictures and barely enough evidence that someone lived there. She knew if it were up to her, the house would be the same, but Liam made sure this house felt like home. Now that he was gone it felt hollow and cold, not something she thought Spencer needed in his current state. “I am sorry I didn’t go to the funeral. I had to come back.” She absurdly excused herself.

“It’s okay, I understand.” There was a silence that engulfed them as she offered him a seat in her living room. “I don’t blame you.” He clarified and she nodded, not sure how that made her feel. “I also don’t think you should blame yourself.”

“Please stop, don’t profile me right now.” That gained a laugh from him, as he raised his hands in surrender. As he looked around realization hit her. He had no idea she was married, or that Emily Prentiss was, in fact, alive. She quickly texted her telling her friend that the man was in the city and to be careful. She knew it was probably safe, that she was already long gone but she couldn't be too cautious.

“You texting your…?” He looked at her hand, noticing the ring for the first time and she fought the urge to hide it. It somehow felt like a betrayal to him, her getting married after telling him that wasn’t something she was ready for. “Did you have that when you went to D.C.?”

“Yes.” She answered quicker than she hoped. “I’ve had it for a couple of years.” He nodded as if contemplating and analyzing her answer. “And I was not texting my husband, just a friend from work.”

“Oh.” He looked at her as if asking for permission before speaking. “Is he at work?” She shook her head no. “I didn’t interrupt you guys or anything, right? That would be so embarrassing… I can’t believe I didn’t even consider… I am so sorry I-“

“Spencer.” She stopped his rambling; she took a deep breath before she continued. “My husband, Liam, is not here.” She explained. Part of her didn’t want to talk about it, he had enough heartache of his own, but she felt compelled to. She never could hide anything from the genius. “He died in a raid about a year ago.” She said as her hand instinctively moved to her ring. 

“I am so sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know.”

“I-“ He paused for a moment, looking for something else to say, but then what he really wanted to know escaped his thoughts. “Does it get better?”

“I want to say yes. I want to tell you one day you stop missing them and it seems like the sun shines as bright again, but I haven’t gotten there.” A sad smile played on her lips. “I can’t even get myself to take his close out of the closet.”

“Yeah, I can’t look at her parents in the eye.”

“I haven’t spoken to his mother since the funeral.”

“We were trying to have kids.”

That was enough to break the mental boundaries she had. Despite how wrong she knew it was she hugged him, tight, hoping he understood that she wanted him to be okay, that he had her on his side even if that meant nothing to him.

“Sometimes, talking about them helps.” She said once she let go of him, his hand now in between hers. “I didn’t really get to know Maeve; I would love to hear about her.”

And so they sat there, sharing the stories of yet another loss love, the irony never lost on her. The one person she relied on to talk about Liam, the one person to fully understand how she felt was no other than her first love. She let aside the guilt and accepted the comfort and help he provided, even after he went back to Washington, and she remained in France. They still talked, almost daily. Letters, emails—despite him hating emails—and calls. Soon enough it was like they never lost touch like their past relationship never was and they were two friends who lost the person they loved and found comfort within each other.

And after two years she realized that her heart raced every time her phone rang, a tad of guilt for the idea of falling for the brunette while she still wore the wedding ring her late husband had given her. She considered putting it away, she considered telling Spencer what she was feeling once again but the fear stopped her. She couldn’t ruin something so important, she couldn’t sabotage their friendship, but she knew what it was like to be loved by Spencer Reid, and boy did she want to feel that way again. It took her weeks to decide what she was going to do, but before she had a chance to execute her plan, her keeping of Emily’s secret came back to haunt her.

“You knew?!”

“She came to Paris, and she found me.”

“And you never thought to mention it?”

“Emily was long gone into hiding when you and I reconnected.”

“That is not an excuse.”

“It wasn’t my place Spencer.”

“It never is your place, is it?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that with you I always know what I am getting into, but I am always stupid enough to fall for it. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

“I wasn’t the one who looked for you!” She spat, trying to hide the effect his words had on her. “Do not make this my fault!”

“I’m not.” His voice was harsh, like that day it all went wrong for the first time. “It’s my fault. For trusting you, for thinking we could be friends. I should know better than to trust a liar.”

“Fuck you, Spencer!”

“Right back at ya!”

And with that, the two years of their rekindling were gone, and once again she watched Spencer Reid walk out of her life. Once again faced with the decision of letting him go or stopping him. As her finger hovered over the call button she froze, this time not by fear, but anger. She understood, he lost his wife and friend, he mourned their death for one of them to suddenly come back to life? It wasn’t fair to him, but it wasn’t her fault! Spencer couldn’t blame her for Emily needing to hide from them, for Emily asking JJ, Hotch, and her to keep it a secret.

I heard the conversation; I’ll talk to him.-Emily

She got ready for bed and pushed aside the feeling of guilt that wished to overwhelm her. This time it wasn’t her fault, she knew it, but she couldn’t help but wish he knew that as well. Instead, she simply responded to the message and turned off her phone.

Don’t bother, it’s not worth the trouble. Love you Em!

Doctor Spencer Reid was a force much too big for her heart and mind to handle. As much as she wished he could stop having such a big influence in her life, she highly doubted that would ever happen, so the least she could do was try and forget their conversation.

Despite her previous determination, she still hoped he would call, say that he was sorry and he didn’t mean those things then she could simply accept his apology, apologize for her language and everything would go back to normal. But as the days turned to weeks and those to months she decided she couldn’t be at this crossroad waiting for him anymore. She could either let him go for good or finally step up and speak to him. The idea of never speaking to him, never hearing him laugh or seeing him smile again, never saying his name, or hearing hers out of his mouth was too much for her to simply move on. She loved Spencer Reid, maybe a part of her always would. She couldn’t let herself stay put while he moved on, not again. They were no longer two twenty-seven-year-olds who had their life ahead of them.

But the fear struck again, she couldn’t lose him too. She couldn’t sit in a restaurant waiting for him just to be greeted by the news that he was no longer in this world. She couldn’t build a home with someone when she had barely taken down all of Liam’s things from their closet. She couldn’t, but part of her wanted to build something with the doctor. That same part of her that screamed at her to follow him the first time. This time she decided to listen to it. She painfully removed the ring in her hand and placed it in the top box, all full of the memories of the man she intended to spend her life with, hoping he would understand. She let a couple of tears fall, knowing that he would always hold a place in her heart, and she made her way to the US. If this backfired and she ended up heartbroken, she could always return to her empty home in Paris. When had reality gotten so dark that she would seek Paris as a place of emptiness? A place to ignore her broken heart until it mended? Life had a funny way of making the things we wished for a twisted reality.

She sighed as she prepared herself to walk up the stairs. She had reached out to JJ, who had given her his address. It was the same place he used to have, as apparently after his wife’s passing he had sold their house. How did he gather the strength to let go of something as meaningful as the home he shared with Maeve? She would never know, but she was proud he continued to try living his life. She knocked and the door opened soon after his gaze confused, and this feeling later replaced by embarrassment.

“Hello, Spencer.” Her mouth was dry, the speech she had prepared long forgotten, fear running through her veins telling her to simply forget all this and run. Return to France and pretend the man in front of her never existed. “Can we talk?” She said as she noticed he hadn’t said a word.

“Yes, um, yeah… come in.” He moved and she did as she was told. “Listen, I was trying to work up the courage to call you, I am sorry I spoke to you like that.” He began as soon as he closed the door.

“Did you mean it?”

“What I said to you that day? No, never!”

“It had to come from somewhere, did it not?”

“Yes, it came from a part of that felt betrayed.” He looked around his apartment, avoiding to meet her gaze. “The more you spoke about him, the more I felt like what we had didn’t mean anything to you, and when I found out you knew about Prentiss, it made me angry but that was because I was already mad at you, I just couldn’t bring myself to accept why.”

“Why are you angry with me?” She asked. “Because I know why I am angry with you. I’m angry because you broke my heart twice, even though I played as much of a part as you the first time. I’m angry because you waltzed right back into my life and turned it upside down. I am so angry that I can’t seem to move on and leave you behind like I wanted to when I left for Paris. I am angry that you are the reason I was finally able to take my ring off.” His eyes drifted to her hand, the mark of the band clear, but no ring in sight. “So, tell me, Spencer Reid, how did I make you angry?”

“You…” He raised his eyes, finally meeting hers, and forced the words out. “I am mad because you moved on. I am angry because you left me and didn’t look back. I am angry because I wanted a family with you and you simply decided to make one with someone else.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I am mad because you made me hurt for you, and when I finally found someone I wanted to spend my life with, someone who loved me… She was taken from me and the only person I could talk to about it was you. I am angry because you made sure none of us even knew of Liam and then you spent hours talking about how he made you smile, and he made you happy. I am angry at you because you knew how much grief I had and still you did not tell me about Emily, I am angry because I still love you, despite all this. Because if you told me right now you wanted to be with me I would fly to Paris and never let you go again.”

“I feel guilty for loving you.”

“I feel guilty for loving you too.”

“I should have stopped you; I should have told you I was scared, but I wanted a family. I was ready, but I was scared someday someone would make you realize you could do better than me.” She sighed, the tears now leaving her eyes. “Now I am scared one day I will be at a table, on our anniversary waiting for you and someone will take you from me. I’m scared the grief I feel for Liam will consume me and I won’t be able to love you.”

“I am scared that my grief won’t let me love you either.” He gulped, approaching her for the first time and he laid his hands softly on her shoulder, tears now made both their faces wet. “I can’t walk away from you again. If Maeve taught me anything about love is that you fight for it, to the bitter end. You do not give up on it.” She sobbed, and his grip tightened in a reassuring gesture. “It doesn’t have to be today, nor tomorrow. We do not need to rush; we can take our time.”

“What if I’m too broken?”

“You aren’t. You're hurt, your heart was broken, but if it can be broken, that means it still works.”

“Spencer, I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t want you to leave again.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Good.”

That was all she needed, the confirmation that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. The fear subsided, the anger fell, and she embraced him, as tight as she could, and smiled as she felt him embrace her. One did not need to be a genius to know it would take time, grief and heartache take time, but both of them knew that it would get better. It always did.

As she laid beside him, in their new home, she couldn’t help but question how much time she had, how long it would be before fate, or destiny, or whoever was out there would decide to take him from her. This time, though, she didn’t let it get to her. She was married to Dr. Spencer Reid, and they were about to be parents. She smiled at the thought and got out of bed ready for the day that would change their lives forever. It had been almost five years since they spoke again, both grieving the loss of their first spouse. It had taken them three of those five years to decide to move forward and just last year they had sworn to love and protect each other in front of their friends and family. She sighed, contently. She felt her life back on track, as she returned to the BAU shortly after their engagement, selling her Paris house and opting to buy a more modest summer home. She had returned Liam’s clothing to her mother, and even some pictures, while others were in their attic. She did not mean to hide him or push him aside, but both she and Spencer decided it was best to keep them close without letting them become an obstacle in their lives together. Maeve and Liam had shown both of them how to love, how to fight for the person you want to spend your life with, and when it was okay to let go, and that was something neither of them would ever forget.

“Ready?” Her husband asked as she grabbed her car keys.

“As ready as they come, Dr. Reid.”

“What do you think it will be, a boy or a girl?” He joked.

“Very funny.” They held hands as she drove to the building, nerves, and excitement building up. Soon enough they were at no more than thirty seconds of being parents of two beautiful kids.

“I do have to say, it is rare for a couple who is already expecting to want and adopt. What made you do this?”

He looked at you, a smile full of pride and love clear on his face, knowing the answer to this question. “There are so many kids that need a home, and love. I figured if my husband and I can offer both, why not do it? Any kid deserves two loving parents and whether I gave birth to them or not shouldn’t matter.” The woman smiled at the couple.

Her two-month belly was barely barely showing, but the agency knew about it already. It was true they had decided to adopt before she found out she was expecting, but that didn’t change their plans, it simply meant another baby would join the family. The two kids, a brother, and sister about eleven and twelve joined the adults. Their nerves and fear obvious in their expression. She couldn’t help but want to hug them and never let go.

“Are you guys our new mom and dad?” The girl asked, her brother frowning at the thought.

“We are not here to replace your mom and dad.” She assured them, the frown on the boy disappearing. “We would love it for you guys to live with us, we want to take care of you if that is something you guys would like."

After a long conversation with the children and them accepting to live with the couple they made their way home, Spencer rambling about statistics on videogames as a way to excuse his lack of skill. She laughed at the sight and couldn’t help but feel complete. She smiled and turned for a second to look at him before returning her eyes to the road. “Fourteen, almost fifteen.” She mumbled to herself. Spencer looked at her with confusion. “That’s how long we’ve known each other. That’s how long I’ve dreamed of this day but was too afraid to fight for it.”

“Do you want the exact time?” He questioned.

“No. It will make me feel old.” They both laughed.

Soon they arrived in their home, their children next to them and they showed them their rooms. After having dinner together and making sure the kids felt comfortable and at home they returned to their bed and laid there, her head on his chest and his hand on her lower back. “I love you; you know that?”

“I know, and I love you too.” He left a soft kiss on her hairline.

They heard small steps and a knock, he stood and turned on the lights before opening the door, the girl in the door had fear written all over her face and her brother was behind her. “Megan doesn’t like to sleep in the dark.” He noted.

“I don’t like to sleep alone.” She corrected. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course sweetie!” Spencer picked her up and placed her on the bed next to her, as she moved to make space.

“Do you want to sleep with us too Dylan?” She asked the boy. He was reluctant but ultimately nodded running up to the bed and laying in between his sister and her. Spencer turned off the light. All four slept together, not once letting go of each other. It felt right, exactly where they needed to be.

The memory of the day she let him go still came from time to time, but her fear that he would leave her never did. She loved Spencer Reid, her colleague, friend, companion, husband. She loved him and he loved her. And now, now they had a family, the past made them who they were, but it didn’t have to define who they could become.

[castiels-majestic-wings]

Sixth Sense - Chapter 4

Paring: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,761

Warnings: Character Fake!death, injury and violence.

Posted: 10/01/2021

A/N: This one is based on 'Thor: The dark world'

Thor had taken you to the best healer in the palace. Odin had asked questions but Thor thought it best to let you explain. You had passed out not long after you left Loki’s cell. You had been unconscious for two days before finally waking up. You stirred before sitting up, the nurse making her way to you.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?” Your nose wasn’t hurting as much, you assumed they used some sort of magic to heal you. Looking down you saw bandages surround your waist. Had you started bleeding? Looking at the nurse you saw how small she was. About 5’5, small face, short blonde hair framing her face, and her dark brown eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fine. I need to speak to Loki.”

“Thor insisted that you rest”

“Well, it’s his fault I’m injured in the first place!” You swung your legs over to dangle on the side of the bed.

“I’m sorry? He didn’t tell us the cause of your injuries. I-I assumed Loki-” You glared at her.

“Loki didn’t do shit to me. Thor threw a punch at him and I took it. That’s all.” You gaze fell as you hopped off the bed. Ignoring the pain on your waist.

“Where’s Thor?”

“Thor has returned to Midgard. He didn’t say where but-”

“Thank you. But I need to check on Loki.” The nurse knew not to interfere Thor had said you were stubborn, so she let you leave. Walking around the palace you decided to go to Heimdall. He could see over the realms, you had to find out what Thor was doing. Making your way to the Bifrost you saw his figure ready to open a Bifrost. Thor must be returning soon.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Heimdall didn’t need to look at you to know you were there. A giggle escaped your lips as you walked closer.

“I should, but it doesn’t mean I will.” Stopping next to him, you looked up at his figure. “Where’s Thor? I was told he returned to Earth”

“Yes. He went to find Jane after I lost sight of her.” Heimdall seemed lost. He had never lost sight of anyone before.

“Jane? Wait, you lost sight of her? But you see everything within the 9 realms”

“That is why Thor was concerned for her. I assume the convergence has opened portals to places even I cannot see”

“Can you see her now?” Heimdall ignored me as he opened the Bifrost. Thor and Jane appeared as Heimdall removed his sword.

“Thor! When I’m done with you I swear- Jane?” You stopped noticing the brunette stood next to him. “The- Thor, she has, power within her. It’s the same energy as Loki’s. It’s dark- powerful.”

“You can see it?”

“Yes, but her body can’t handle it for long. Her aura is fluctuating. Her body is fighting it. It will kill her if you don’t remove it.”

“Thor-” Jane sounded timid. You realised your mistake after you spoke but it was too late.

“Jane, humans cant hold powers like that for long, I don’t know what it is, but it’s not meant for humans to wield. How did you get it?” As you were walking to the palace again Jane and Thor explained everything they could. Your tactician senses were kicking in. You knew a power like that would draw in enemies. If it was hidden for so long, you knew it was dangerous. You sensed it. Thor had told you to rest. He said he would take you back to Midgard as soon as he could, but for now he needed to help Jane. That was before the attack. How didn’t Heimdall see it sooner? You didn’t know, but you knew something bad was going to happen. Thor had you with Jane, out of the way. Safe. After the attack, you found out that Frigga had died defending Jane, or at least the illusion of Jane she used to deceive the Dark Elf. The funeral was held later that night. You knew Odin sent a guard to tell Loki of her death. You wanted to check on him, see how he was doing. You knew he loved her, even if she wasn’t his real mother. She raised him as her own. He must be broken.

After her funeral, you had been told to stay put until you can go back to Midgard. You obliged. No one was in their right mind after the loss of their queen. You couldn’t exactly fall asleep until Thor came to you. He needed your help. You followed him until you made it into a room, under the castle, unknown to most of the palace. Heimdall, Sif and the Warriors Three were there. They had a plan to save Jane. Thor walked you through it. When the time came he asked for my company to see Loki and get his help. You were the only one who knew Loki’s true self. He would listen to you. When you entered, you knew it was an illusion, you saw Loki’s aura, but it was against the wall. Not the figure you saw standing there. He didn’t want to show how vulnerable he was.

“Loki enough. No more illusions” Loki removed the illusion and the room was trashed, and there sat Loki, right where you sensed him. He was broken, more broken than you had ever seen him. His hair was tussled. He no longer wore his elegant clothing. The furniture was scattered around him. Things were broken and out of place. Yet the way Thor spoke at him. He didn’t care. He no longer believed him to be the brother he grew up with. He wouldn’t even answer his questions. You got mad. But let him continue either way. Loki then hid his feelings again. Before we left. Getting ready to escape. You walked behind them. Loki was messing with Thor using his illusions. You had to admit it was funny. But you were worried about his wellbeing. Being able to look so, normal. So, mischievous. After seeing how broken he was you didn’t understand how he did it. But you knew you shouldn’t ask. Sif escorted Jane to our meeting point. Jane began speedwalking as Loki went to introduce himself she slapped him. You stood forward but was held back.

“That was for New York” A mischievous grin appeared on his face before he replied.

“I like her.” You huffed but didn’t think anything of it.

“Okay, now that we’re all here- let’s get to that ship” Guards appeared as you spoke.

“On my command” Thor got ready to attack before Sif intervened.

“I’ll hold them off. Take them” She nodded her head to you and Jane. You walked with Thor not before noticing everyone’s threats to Loki. You made it into the ship and Thor had tried to control it, but he was being aggressive with it. He didn’t have the patience. You leaned over him and looked at the console. You pressed what you thought was the engine. The ship started. Thor looked at you confused as to how you guessed it, while Loki looked proud.

Thor had turned the ship hitting every column in the area, but one.

“I think you missed a column.” Sarcasm was dripping from his voice. While you giggled Thor growled.

“Shut up.” Thor had started flying the ship, very unstably. Loki knew he wasn’t capable.

“Look why don’t you let me take over? I’m clearly the better pilot”

“Is that right? Well. Out of the two of us, which one can actually fly?”

“Boys! Now is not the time! We’re being attacked!” You looked at Jane, she looked bad. At that moment she fainted.

“Oh, dear. Is she dead?”

“Jane!” Thor yelled, hoping she could hear him.

“I’m okay” Her voice was weak as she raised her arm slightly before it fell back to the floor. Loki looked behind us noticing the guards ships approaching.

“Now they’re following us.” The ship shook as you heard weapon fire.

“Now they’re firing at us” Loki wasn’t helping Thor’s patience but he was at least making me laugh in such a dire situation.

“Yes thank you for the commentary Loki it’s not at all distracting” His voice was strained, but rough. He manoeuvred the ship around avoiding whatever buildings he could but he hit a statue at its neck.

“Well done. You just decapitated your grandfather” Thor growled lowly before you made it over the waters. The ship was unstable, you had no idea how you were going to get put in this.

“You know, this is wonderful. This is a tremendous idea! Let’s steal the biggest most obvious ship in the universe and escape in that!” Loki raised his voice showing his frustration. “Flying around the city, smashing everything in sight, so everyone can see us. It’s brilliant Thor! It’s truly brilliant-” Thor then pushed him out. You heard his scream and got angry.

“Why did you do that?!”

“We must jump Y/N”

“Ju- You want me to jump?!” Thor had picked up Jane and stood next to the open door.

“Trust me!” You looked at him questioning everything. But you knew he was your only way out. You and ran towards the door, closing your eyes as you leapt out the door. You fell until someone caught you. You then felt the thud of Thor’s landing before opening your eyes. You looked up and saw Loki facing you. He placed you down, struggling a bit with the cuffs but he tried not to show it.

“You lied to me. I’m impressed” Loki smiled in Thor’s direction. Proud of his brother’s deception. Loki started piloting to his secret passageway for us to escape. You sensed many people coming your way. You turned around and saw another Asgardian ship approaching.

“More ships incoming!” Thor and Loki both turned to confirm your inquiry. Loki began to avoid the ship’s attacks while you ducked. You forgot your weapons back on earth. You didn’t think you would need them. Loki turned the ship suddenly heading toward a mountain.

“Loki?!” Thor seemed like he knew what Loki was doing, but you feared he would kill you all.

“If it were easy, everyone would do it” Loki seemed calm. He wouldn’t risk his life over this, He knew what he was doing.

“Are you mad?”

“Possibly” Thor held on to Jane while you held onto the side of the ship. The ship became unstable as he went through the passage until the ship made it to a different planet. You didn’t know where you were but you knew you would need a weapon of some kind. A gun, a dagger. Anything to protect yourself. The ship was gliding to our destination. You had calmed slightly. Seeing Loki’s aura pulse, however, made you concerned.

“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins”

“No Loki, you’re body is already reacting to just being near it. It would not only consume you, but it might kill you. God or not.” Your eyes narrowed towards him, he knew you were serious.

“How is she?”

“She’s holding up alright. For now”

“She’s strong in ways youd never even know”

“Say goodbye”

“Not this day”

“This day, the next, a hundred years. It's nothing. It's a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready. The only woman whose love you've prized will be snatched from you.”

“And will that satisfy you?”

“Satisfaction is not in my nature”

“Surrender is not in mine” You couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Your mind was focused on the other entities nearby. You tried to count them. You tried to control the power you had, Jane had sensed them to. The aether within her woke her up as dark elves entered the realm. She whispered the name of their leader. Malekith. You exited the ship following the brothers. Loki was still in chains. He lifted his hands, gesturing to his brother to remove them.

“You still don't trust me brother?”

“Would you?” Thor rolled his eyes as he freed Loki of his shackles. He rubbed his hands together before speaking quietly.

“No I wouldn’t” He conjured a dagger stabbing Thor. Your eyes went wide. This wasn’t Loki. Not the one who opened his heart to you just days prior. Thor was thrown off the hill and rolled down. Loki jumped down, ready to attack again while talking to Thor. As Thor summoned Mjolnir, Loki cut off his hand. Your hands covered your mouth in shock. You couldn't believe he would do that. Loki picked up Jane, and held her tightly making sure she couldnt leave his grip. He was bargaining with them. You ran towards them focusing on Thor’s hand, but it was still there. You could see the aura around his hand. It was an illusion. Making Malekith think that Loki was on their side. Malekith removed the aether from Jane. As she fell to the ground Thor yelled towards his brother.

“Loki! Now!” With a flick of his wrist the illusion faded and Thor’s hand reappeared. Loki shielded you and Jane as Thor tried to destroy the aether. Afterwards there was a giant force that would've injured you greatly if it wasn't for Loki. After the smoke cleared you looked up and saw the shards of the aether. It wasn't destroyed, but crystalised. As you three stood up, Malekith absorbed the aether. Making him more powerful than ever. He left for his ship while the others attacked. One of the aliens activated a grenade and threw it at us. Loki pushed you out of the way as it detonated, becoming a black hole, that was sucking him in until Thor flew past and grabbed him. You knew you needed to help. You might be a tactician but you were also a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. You were trained in combat.

“Loki! I need a weapon!” He considered the possibilities before conjuring another dagger and throwing it in your direction. Loki and Thor had the big guy. You had the grunts that were left. You held the dagger in your dominant hand before charging the grunt. You slashed at it’s chest before it jumped back dodging your attack. It attacked you and stabbed your stomach. You almost fell but you needed to finish this, You knew you had to act like Natasha on this one. You wrapped your legs around its head before flipping it onto the ground head first. Which knocked it out cold. You looked around trying to find the others when you saw a red beam destroying the last enemy. Seeing Loki on the ground made you panic. You tried to run over to them as Thor held Loki to his chest. You started crying, thinking of the worst. You made your way over slowly, jogging as fast as you could with the stab wound. Once you got there, you heard his last words.

“I didn’t do it for him.” Loki shut his eyes, as his breathing stopped. You waited for his aura to disappear. But it didn't. Once someone dies, their aura is no more. But his was still there. With tears streaming down your cheeks you narrowed your eyes. He wasn’t dead? But why was he faking it? You didn't know but you knew you had to find out.

“Thor! He has the aether! The conversion is upon us! We don't have much time!” Thor looked at His brother grieving. But he knew he had to fight for the 9 realms. For earth. He found a way to get to earth but insisted you stayed behind in Asgard until it was safe. You would have insisted on going with him but with your injuries, you would be no help. Using Nat’s move probably wasn't best suited for them, but you had to help. You agreed to return to Asgard with his help you made it there safely on your own. Once you got there your head felt heavy from the blood loss. You almost fainted then and there. But you were stubborn. You wouldn't let your body fail you. Not right now. You began walking the long distance over the bridge, keeping pressure on your wound. Ready to return to the palace you were determined to make it. You made it halfway before you saw soldiers heading toward you. Letting your body fall, you knew you couldn't take much more. You passed out before you were picked up and taken inside.

Taglist: @lovermrjokerr @lord-byron @lucywrites02 @violetica @quirkyreaderwriter @prettysbliss

[animeyanderelover]

Hi dear! It's me again! I'd love to see prompt 15. “Shh princess…don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.” with our wonderful girl Tsunade!

Tsunade!!! Hell YES!!!

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, manipulation

Prompt 15: “Shh princess...don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

You stood speechless there, all shaken up, not wanting to believe what you had just witnessed. The place you stood in looked completely destroyed, deep craters everywhere and trees ripped out from the ground, showing the aftermath of a brutal battle. But this battle hadn’t been fair at all! It had been decided from the very beginning who would win and the loser had died a truly horrible death. But what shocked you most was who had been the one killing him. She was still standing above the corpse, panting heavily and glaring with hatred down at the man, her clothes, face and hair blood covered. “Tsu-Tsunade?”, you managed to stutter out, your voice nearly breaking. She quickly turned around, shock visible on her face. “(y/n)?!” How had it come to this?

Flashback:

“What happened to her?!?!” Wasn’t that Tsunade’s voice? “She got attacked on her mission! According to her teammates she was attacked by an enemy who stabbed her quite a few times and then attacked with paper bombs. She stood too close and was caught in the explosions!” And that was Shizune’s voice. “Several organs have been damaged!” “She’s losing too much blood!” “We’re losing her!” Many voices suddenly started to yell panicked around and you couldn’t figure any longer out what they were saying. You tried to open your eyes, wanting to know what exactly was going on. It took you a lot of strength, but you managed to do it. At first everything was blurry, but after a moment you started to notice a pretty, blonde haired woman who was busily yelling at all the other people. “Tsunade...”, you mumbled quietly. Never in your life you had seen her snapping her head around that swiftly, for a moment worried that she would break her neck. “(y/n)!! Don’t worry, everything will be alright!!! I promise!!!” Her voice sounded terrified and you could clearly see the tears that were swelling up in her eyes. Black dots started to appear before your eyes, slowly growing bigger and bigger. “It’s getting...so dark.”, you murmured, having troubles to keep your eyes open. “No!!! Don’t close your eyes!!! Look at me!!!”, Tsunade yelled at you desperately, but you couldn’t even hear her clearly. It felt like you were somewhere underwater and Tsunade’s voice sounded like it came from above the water surface. By now nearly everything in front of your vision had turned black and it seemed so inviting to just close your eyes and drown in the darkness. ‘Beeeeeeeeeeep!’ “NOOOOO!!!!!!”

When you came back to your senses the first thing you noticed was a blinding light. “Am I dead?”, you questioned yourself, but only a few seconds later you hissed painfully, feeling pain everywhere. You forced your head to look up to see why you were in so much pain. Most parts of your body were covered in blankets, but every spot from your body that wasn’t covered was wrapped in bandages. You started looking around, trying to find someone who could answer all your questions. “Hello?!”, you called out. At first nothing happened, but then the door was suddenly slammed open and Shizune and a few nurses stormed in. “She’s awake!!”, one of them called facilitated. “Inform Lady Tsunade immediately!!”, Shizune ordered them before she quickly went to your side. “Are you feeling alright?! Do you need something?!” You blinked irritated before answering:”A glass of water and an explanation to what exactly happened would be nice.”

Your jaw had dropped and you stared horrified at her. “A...whole week?”, you asked with a shaking voice. Shizune nodded with a pained expression on her face. You had been out for a whole week?! “Tsunade! How is she doing?!”, you suddenly asked her worried. Shizune lowered her gaze, a sad expression on her face which gave you all the answers you needed. “Terrible. I’ve never seen her that broken.” You felt a stinging in your heart. But suddenly the door was slammed open once again, but this time it was ripped out of it’s place. You gasped when you saw Tsunade. She looked horrible! There were dark bags under her eyes, she looked awfully pale and it seemed like she hadn’t eaten something for quite some time. As soon as she saw you, she broke out in tears. (y/n)! You’re awake!” She immediately stormed towards you and hugged you, careful to not hurt you. Shizune quietly left the room whilst Tsunade was crying heavily, wetting the bandages on your shoulder in no time. “I was so scared of losing you. Y-your heart stopped beating for a whole minute.” You tried to calm her down bu gently stroking her hair, feeling guilty that you had given her so much worries. “Hey, I’m alive! Don’t you know what I told you on our first date? No way that you’ll ever be able to shake me off.”, you tried to ease the mood and to your relief it worked because Tsunade started laughing a bit even though she was still crying.

The next few weeks Tsunade refused to leave your side at all. She stayed with you in the hospital and even after you were released and were able to go back to your apartment she refused to leave you alone. Helping you with everything since you couldn’t really do much in your state. You looked like a mummy with all the bandages covering you! But she was the Hokage of the Leaf Village so you had to force her to go back to work, during this time Shizune always stayed with you. But it had one advantage, since Tsunade wanted to be near you she worked incredibly fast, wanting to finish the tasks as fast as possible just to be able to go back to you. Thanks to her you also didn’t end up with your whole body littered in scars because of the burnings from the explosions. She had worked on a Jutsu to smoother your skin so that the scars on your body were nearly invisible. She took great care of you and you felt blissed to have her as your girlfriend. But all of that was about to change soon...

It had been pretty late when you had come home, spending nearly the whole day in the hospital for one of your daily check-ups. And it seemed like you were on a good way to going back to your full strength. You had expected Tsunade to be waiting for you in your apartment and you were a bit surprised when you didn’t find her. At first you had thought that she would be in her office, but you hadn’t find her there as well. Even Shizune didn’t know where she was, telling you that Tsunade had left earlier this day to solve some ‘problem’ without letting her exactly know what it was. That was the point where you had started to get worried. It wasn’t typical for Tsunade to leave you without letting you or Shizune know where she went. You stood for a moment there, thinking about where she could possibly be before an idea popped up in your head. What if you would start searching in her desk in the office? If she left some clue about where she had went and what problem she would have to solve then you were sure you would find it there. So you went to the building of the Hokage and went in the office. Luckily you were one of the few persons who were allowed to go in there without permission. You immediately walked to her quite messy looking desk. Oh dear, Tsunade and her sense for neatness. You decided to start looking in her drawers at first, assuming that if she would have left some clue about where she had went, she wouldn’t have left in on her desk. As soon as you opened the drawer, it nearly exploded, being stuffed with too many files and papers. “Tsunade!”, you cursed quietly. Damn, as soon as you would find her, you would definitely force her to clean up her desk. You sighed and started picking up all the files that had dropped to the ground before one file caught your eye. Different from the other ones this one was marked in red, looking more important. You looked around. Should you take a short glance? You were debating with yourself. You shouldn’t. But when you grabbed the file to put it back in the drawers a photo suddenly dropped out of it. You bent down to grab the picture and your eyes widened for a short second. That man on the photo...that was the guy who nearly killed you!!! You slowly opened the red folder and picked out all the papers inside. The first thing you noticed were a lot of pictures from this man. And with a lot you meant a lot! Judging from the dates that were written down on them, you were able to tell that Tsunade must have kept an close eye on him for weeks. You started looking for the picture with the earliest and latest date on it. The earliest date was about eight weeks ago. You raised an eyebrow. At that time you had layed unconscious in the hospital. The latest picture was from this day and you also noticed something else. On it’s back was something written. The name of a city and a time of day. You knew this city, it was only a few kilometers away from here. In the folder you also found countless other things from the man. Name, age, past life... At first you didn’t understand what all of that meant, but then a thought hit you. A thought that scared you. What if she planned to...? You couldn’t finish that thought, trying to deny this. How late was it? You looked at the clock, that was hanging in the office. According to it you had one hour left. You quickly stuffed everything back into the drawers and then started storming out of the office, pleading that your suspicion wasn’t true.

You were completely out of breath when you reached your destination, you hadn’t run this much since quite some time. But you didn’t really got the time to catch your breath because in the very next moment the ground suddenly started to shake. A short yelp of surprise escaped your lips whilst you stumbled back. What was that? An earthquake? No. That was something different. You quickly followed the direction from where the shocks seemed to come. Shortly after you reached a field, or at least what you assumed had been once a field. It looked like a bomb had blown up there, everything was destroyed! “I’m sorry!! Please forgive me!! I’ll do anything, but please don’t kill me!” The terrified voice caught your attention and that’s when you noticed the two persons standing inside all this chaos. One of them, the man, was laying on the ground, trembling and looking up to the person who was standing in front of him. You gasped when you realized who it was. It was Tsunade! You heard her scoffing at the man, clenching her fist tightly. “Did you hesitate or stop when you attacked my people? When you attacked (y/n)? Did you care for whether they die or not?” The man was shaking, unable to answer. “You didn’t. And so won’t I.” With these words she slammed her fist down, punching the man right in his stomach. You heard a sound that sounded like bones breaking and in the next moment blood was splashing out of the man. You needed a moment to proceed what had just happened. She had punched a hole right through his stomach. You started shaking. “Tsu-Tsunade?”

End of flashback

“(y/n)?! What are you doing here?!”, Tsunade asked you panicked, walking with fast steps towards you. “Stay away!” She flinched when you screamed those words at her and you yourself were a bit surprised as well, but it was pure instinct. “(y/n)...I-I understand that you’re a bit shocked from all of this, but please believe me, he deserved it!”, she desperately tried to reason with you whilst stepping closer to you. You didn’t move, just staring at the man, deep in thoughts. You admitted that you had hated him as well, after all he did cause you some damage and you did wanted to have some kind of revenge, but not like this! This had been just unfair, he hadn’t stand a chance against her! No one deserved to die like this, having a hole punched in his stomach. Tears started to swell up in your eyes, falling down your face. You quietly started sobbing, feeling conflicted about your feelings. What were you supposed to do now? How were you supposed to feel about Tsunade now?! Tsunade quickly engulfed you in a her warm embrace, rubbing circles soothingly on your back. “Shh princess...don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.” A part of you screamed at you to push her away, to scream at her, to run away, to just do something to get away from her as fast as possible, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t! Because you still loved her. And you knew you would always do...