#link submerging in stuff

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter thirteen: escape

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part coming soon

oh yeah, i made a spotify playlist for this <3

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you can caleb make an escape from the meeting.

word count: 10k words

warnings: please, please, PLEASE read the trigger warnings before proceeding. lightly proofread...it ain't perfect! i wrote this in one go so...have fun! :D

author's note: ahhh okay so this one is a little heavy on the murder part but hey!!!! the bad stuff is over!!!! for the most part :D back to our regularly scheduled programming of caleb and reader being messy as fuck!

oh and remember...the narrative isn't completely objective!

trigger warning: death/murder, bodily harm, gun violence, okay maybe there's a kiss or two, but mainly violence, and blood, and okay there's like a pretty bad death in there on caleb's part

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @lemonwithstupidity

Being dead has its perks.

You get the chance to get away from life for a bit, being submerged beneath the ice cold sea — well, that’s what it feels like — before feeling your body thaw out from the life returning to your body. The downside, though, is that it is you stuck inside your own mind, your brain trying to make up for the fact that you’re dead and not breathing.

You know that saying that your life flashes before your eyes before a person dies? That’s what happens to you except every single time you are in this state, it is a different memory that you are forced to relive over and over again. You’ve seen it all from your first conscious memory as a child — your fourth birthday where your mother posed you in front of her garden in the backyard of your home — all the way to your less than ideal high school graduation where a certain someone tried to steal your chords and accolades before he was dragged away by his own family.

This time, the memory feels warm on your skin. It feels like a childhood blanket that’s been draped over your body on a cool summer day. It’s warm and the breeze is nice and gentle, the blanket protecting you from the last bit of chill in the air.

Except this time, when you open your eyes, you find yourself inside of your high school’s library. You sit up against a bookshelf, the wooden shelves pushing into your back, jutted out books taking their turn poking into your flesh. The book is heavy in your hands. You cross your legs, your backpack sitting beside you. The pages are crip between your fingertips, your hair falling into your face.

You brush your hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear, clearing your throat as the tingle from the bullet Caleb put into your brain begins to heal itself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Zayne asks from beside you. You turn your face to the side, a small smile on spreading across your lips. You nod, slowly closing the book that sits on your lap.

“Yeah! Good luck with your class,” you say.

A small smile tugs up the corner of his lips before it falls. The dark haired man nods his head at you, his hazel eyes darting away for just a brief moment before he disappears down the library aisle. You look away from the empty space that Zayne once inhabited and look out the window. It is a warm and sunny day in Linkon, most of the days are like this in the city, especially during the springtime.

A butterfly crosses the window. Its orange wings catch your attention just like it did all those years ago. The soft smile remains on your face, your fingers slipping back into the pages of your book, opening it up to the page where you left off. You and Zayne had teamed up for an assignment together for Mrs. Thompson’s English class. The book was well over a hundred years old and spoke about the effect of selfishness and vanity and how it decays the soul and tortures one’s mind and actions.

A sigh leaves your lips. You close the book and your eyes, rolling your head back against the bookshelf.

“Whatcha readin’?”

You open one eye and see Caleb standing before you. He wears his usual cocky smile, one that your heart used to flutter at the sight of, and his backpack hangs off of his shoulder, only one of the straps attached to his body. His dark brown locks of hair are messy, slightly sweaty. His uniform is messy, his tie loose and hanging around his neck. If you had to guess, he just came back from his morning basketball practice. You push your lips to the side, unable to control how you verbally respond to him or what your body does.

You are reliving your memory, after all, and there is no changing the past no matter how hard you try.

“Nothing,” you quietly respond, voice just above a whisper. “Just the book for Mrs. Thompson’s class.”

“Ah, nice,” he steps towards you, dropping his backpack to the ground. You watch with a close eye, your heart rapidly beating inside of your chest just like it did the day this happened. Caleb sits beside you, his arm grazing yours. You can feel his body heat, the way he so casually places himself at your side, acting like he belongs there. “You know, I haven’t been able to get into it. Her quizzes always stump me, too.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you shrug, barely glancing over at him, “you always do.”

The corners of your book are frayed, the cover weathered. You got it from a used bookshop. It was tucked away in one of the back corners, hidden from the world. It felt like fate the way you happened upon it. It helped, too, that the book was already annotated, helping you with digesting and fully understanding the novel. It was cool to see this mysterious person’s take on the plot and characters as well. A different perspective is always nice to have.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

Neither dare to break the silence, the soft sound of footsteps and muffled voices from the nearby hallway float into your area. The nearby window is open. The scent of fresh cut grass is prominent but it doesn’t bother you. Birds sing their songs. Your book remains closed in your lap.

“Were you with him?” Caleb asks his question so casually. His purple eyes flick to your book, memorizing the way you hold onto the cover, almost like you are protective of it.

“Be specific,” you respond.

“Zayne,” Caleb responds.

There is an unspoken tension in the air. It has always been there between you two. It’s followed you around in your childhood. You’ve always felt it, lingering the background. It’s the way your eyes always found each other whenever you entered a room. It’s the way he always made sure to hold the door open for you whenever your families went out for a shared dinner. It’s the way he brought you a butterfly figurine as an apology for leaving you behind. It’s the way the two of you never spoke of a love that blossomed between your hearts due to the dear that the world will not be so accepting of the bond you hold.

“Yes,” you slowly nod and swipe your tongue over your teeth, choosing your words carefully. “He was helping me with the symbolism of the book and the portrait.” You don’t know why you feel so tense, why you feel as if time is standing still in your memory. From the corner of your eye, you watch Caleb slowly nod his head.

The silence turns uncomfortable. Ugly. Compromising. You feel exposed to the man you have loved since you were children. You hate it.

The real you — present day you — know exactly what is coming. His question. There is nothing you can do to avoid it. To avoid the discomfort of your own decisions, the regret that you have secretly held inside of your chest for years as you allowed the corpse of your inner child to decay and rot at the foot of an apple tree.

“Did you mean it?”

Your body runs cold. Stiff. You do not look Caleb in the eyes. Instead, you seek refuge in looking at the book in your own hands. Perhaps your own hidden portrait is decaying somewhere, showing the ugly manifestations of your own vanity and selfishness for the way you so desperately wish to avoid this confrontation with Caleb.

“Did you mean it when you said you never wanted to see me again?”

You finally look at Caleb. His purple eyes are glossy. His Adam’s apple slightly bobs up and down. His voice was hoarse, dry. He struggled to get the words out. Your heart twists inside of your chest. A sharp pain overtakes it as your head throbs, the organ slowly rebuilding itself.

You wish you can remain silent. You wish that you can avoid answering his question, to avoid all of the pain and angst that has struck you down when you were a teenager. Your eyes sting. They feel hot as the invisible rope around your neck tightens.

“Yes,” you breathe out, shaky. You hold onto your book, bending the bound pages, the book groaning from twisting the spine in one direction and the exposed pages in the other. “I meant every single word.”

No. No you don’t. Don’t say that, your voice screams, echoing off the walls of your inner consciousness. You love him! Don’t let him go!

“What did I…” Caleb clears his throat. He inches closer to you. You let him. Your biceps touch. His skin runs hot while yours runs cold, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. His bottom lip trembles. “What did I do?”

You rip your gaze away form his. A single tear rolls down your cheek. You watch Caleb’s hand reach out, presumably to wipe it away, but hesitate, drawing back to his body. He lets out a quiet sigh. Caleb hangs his head beside you, his fists balling on his lap.

“Tell me. Tell me what I need to do to get back into your life,” Caleb firmly speaks. You close your eyes and shake your head. “Yes,” he combats your movement, “yes, please, tell me.”

His voice is desperate. Pleading. His own misery now on full display. You know now that he was just as broken as you were. Nights spent in bed with Caleb, him holding you so close to him, face buried in the back of your neck, whispering that he will never let you go again.

Oh, the irony.

“Caleb…you…no, I’m sorry,” you tremble at his side.

Caleb breathes your name out. You ignore it. You always did after this point.

“You need to let me go,” you hold back a sob. 

Your body shakes from the sudden urge to cry. You try your best to hold it back but the tears begin to flood down your cheeks. You stand up, reaching down to grab your backpack. Caleb looks up at you, his eyes glossy and pleading — begging — for you to look at him.

But you can’t. You can’t bring your face to face the reality that you have created, one you made thinking that after you graduate you will never see this man ever again. Oh how wrong you were.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice is more demanding, a bit on the whiny side. “Will you please look at me? Can you at least—hey.”

Caleb stands. His fingers curl around your wrist. You had just taken a step away from him but he drew you right back in, keeping you at an arm’s distance. Caleb’s touch is searing hot, burning into your skin. You close your eyes, your backpack hanging off of one shoulder. Your free hand reaches up to wipe your tears away. You stare at the library exit, unable to bring yourself to look at the man whose heart you just obliterated.

“Will you just…tell me what I did wrong,” Caleb’s voice tingles the back of your ears.

Your once tense arm feels loose, the teenager closing the distance. His fingers slip into yours. The final nail in his coffin. You suck in a shaky breath, your lungs feeling like they are on fire. A piece of you wishes they actually were. Maybe then the emotional pain you feel will finally be outweighed by something that you hope will cleanse your soul.

“It’s not something you’ve done,” you whisper. Caleb hangs onto every word. You finally turn around, eyes meeting his. Slowly, you move your hand from his, letting it retreat back to the safety of your body. “It’s what you didn’t do.”

Caleb shudders. The gun is heavy in his hand, your blood spraying across the cement floor. Your body goes rigid, tensing up as the grey drowns out from your eyes, returning to their original color. Guilt twists inside of his chest. He watches as the gray color in your eyes fade, returning to its original shade. His heart plummets inside of his chest. Caleb forces his face to remain as stoic as possible, knowing that if he shows even the slightest amount of emotion, that both him and you will remain the Professor’s prisoners.

Your lifeless body falls back with a thud. There is a gentle cracking sound, most likely the back of your skull hitting the hardened cement floor. Caleb gulps, swallow what is left of the spit inside if his mouth. He turns to look at the room.

Their eyes are on you, not him, watching as you fall.

He wishes that he could pick up your body, to handle it with the care and grace that you deserve. You shouldn’t have to be subjected to experimentation, to be the Professor’s lab rat for all of those who wish to see.

He mourns your death. He knows that you will be back soon. But the pain you felt? All of that was real. The microexpression from your flinch, the recognition that the end was near. It happened in the blink of an eye, the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head before you fell.

Caleb should have used his Evol to catch you, to gently place you on the ground. You deserve as much respect as the highest ranking officer in this room.

“Good, X-02,” the Professor speaks.

Caleb lowers the gun. His amethyst eyes remain on your body. Your blood is dark, darker than usual or of that he has seen before. He knows that his looks the same, a signature that the Professor likes to leave behind just in case he needs to be able to identify just how hard his assets have been hit.

Caleb takes a step to the side. He places the gun on the table with the muzzle aimed at Professor Lucius. His eyes fixate on the elder man. His white hair is neatly made, giving off the image of a perfect person. It makes Caleb sick to his stomach.

The Colonel places his hands behind his back. His heels click together. In one fluid motion, Caleb makes his way back to the General, taking his place behind the man in authority. The General shoots a quick look to Caleb. The older man’s jaw clenches, brows knitted together, face hardened. He is shocked and yet his first move is to look towards Caleb.

Is it to see if his perfect soldier will flinch? Will Caleb show a crack in his seemingly impenetrable armor?

No. Caleb won’t give them the satisfaction.

“In just a short while, V-03 will be up and running again,” Professor Lucius says.

Caleb silently sucks in a breath, his ears heating from anger. It angers him to know that the Professor refers to you as a machine, something that people can bend to their will, instead of like the human being you are.

“How long will it take?” one of the men at the table speaks up. They stand from their chairs and the attention of the room moves back to your lifeless body.

Caleb glances in your direction. The table shields your body from his vision, showing just the strands of your hair and the pool of blood that seeps from your head from one side of the table’s corner to where your feet stick out on the other.

Agony rips through his body. His hands grow clammy from behind his leather gloves, his steady heartbeat loud in his ears.

He waits, eyes remaining on you. A flinch. A twitch. Any kind of movement. A sign that you truly are still alive and will wake up instead of being condemned to a fate away from him.

No…he won’t let it happen. Caleb will do everything in his power to bring you back to life, to save you from the brink of total decay, to bring life back into your eyes instead of them being grayed out for all to see. 

“Soon. Be patient. You will see the power that she holds, a power that I will bestow onto your armies,” the Professor’s voice echoes down the large aircraft hangar. His eyes remain on Caleb. Steady and sure, ready for his rebellious experiment to break at any given moment.

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” another man asks. “What if there is a limit on how many times she can die?”

“Then she would have been proven useful to show us what the lab rats’ expiration dates are,” the Professor lets out a laugh. The rest of the room follows.

Caleb stays silent.

The minutes tick by as the Professor continues with his presentation on the new type of super solider he has created. Your image is flashed on the screen from behind him. The experiments that the Professor has done unto you displayed for all to see. Burning, poison, drugged with a multitude of chemicals such as arsenic and valium, all to see how the human body reacts, your purpose to serve both the Professor but for the pursuits of science as well.

“She is phenomenal, a true maverick in this new field of study,” Professor Lucius smiles, the yellow of his teeth on full display. “If we apply her Evol to your men, there will nothing that you can’t do.”

“Our enemies are the Fleet and their pursuit of the Deepspace Tunnel,” one of the older, more scarred and disfigured officers speaks up. “We fight against their pursuits. They bring more harm than good,” his eyes move to the General. “This…unofficial meeting feels like a trap. It feels like you are flaunting the Fleet’s new weapons.”

“Isn’t war better if it’s transparent than hidden?” the Professor asks. The man remains silent.

Professor Lucius round the table, slowly approaching the man who sits in his seat. Caleb mimics his movement, circling the table, moving in your direction. Nobody pays attention to him. The Colonel watches you from his peripheral vision. The black soles of your leather boots catches his attention, the whites of your pants specked with residual blood.

“The aspects of war does not matter. What matters is who holds the power and what they are willing to do with it,” Professor Lucius is condescending towards the man, acting as if he has some hidden cards up his sleeve that nobody knows about. “Many men like to think that with knowledge comes power, one would think that I am one of those men.”

“Aren’t you?” Caleb speaks up. The room turns to look at him. His hands remain folded behind his back.

Professor Lucius’ smile falters for a brief moment, a hint of his inner ugliness slipping out. Caleb matches his smile, warm and welcoming, false in its nature but the room doesn’t need to know that. He is one of the Professor’s pets, after all, so shouldn’t he come to his owner’s rescue?

“No,” the Professor responds. “Power sits with those who are willing to do whatever it takes to change the world. It doesn’t matter what their vision is.”

The room fall silent. The Professor gains the men’s attention once again, snapping his fingers. Caleb takes this opportunity to look down at you.

No movement.

He lets out a sigh, his plan going on for much longer than he anticipated. Caleb’s gaze flickers to the side, looking at a nearby control panel. If he had to guess, there are about twenty Ever soldiers stationed here. Viper has to be one of them. He knows this. The snake is slithering around here somewhere. He’ll cause you and him trouble. He needs to be taken out first when the onslaught of soldiers hits.

The Professor speaks but Caleb drowns out his voice. His eyes scan the environment, noting a nearby helicopter on the indoor tarmac. There is a control panel just to the side of it, one that is familiar from his days as a DAA pilot. It was on the air carriers that he landed on, controlling the sequences for takeoff as well as when he landed, the hooks on the ground sunken into their place. The helicopter makes it easy, though, just needing to open the top of the hangar to get you out of here. Liam will be outside ready to keep the other soldiers at by a while the two of you make your escape.

A squeak. Not loud nor was it quiet, just discernible enough for Caleb to pick up on. He glances at you, the black leather boot twitching in its place. His heart lurches at the sight, his hope reignited inside his chest. It looks like the Professor noticed it too.

He walks back to your unconscious body, your chest now slowly rising as falling, your lungs filling themselves with the air they need to survive. Your body regains its color, the life slowly coming back to you.

“Ah,” Professor Lucius begins, his gaze drifting to you. He turns to the room, the smile returning to his face. “She’s awake.”

Caleb stares at the glass tablet. It sits inside of the Professor’s jacket pocket, just an arms reach away, for Caleb to steal away, the control of your body back into his hands instead of the Professor’s. It’s too risky, though. He risks breaking it, which will condemn you to a state of limbo, body turned on but not quite able to receive orders. At least, that’s what the documents from Ever showed him.

Caleb takes a step away, moving backwards but still close enough to be there when you need him to step in. His purple eyes focus on your chest, drifting up to your neck where your throat moves, watching as you swallow the remnants of blood that flooded your skull almost an hour ago. Your eyes remain closed but your torso moves in one fluid yet robotic motion.

You sit up up on the ground. The hole in the middle of your forehead now closed up, a mix of dried and fresh blood sitting in a circle, a literal target just in case the Professor makes him shoot you again. Your eyes finally flutter open, staring straight ahead. They are not gray, no, but instead flooded with the dark red of your blood. Caleb watches as that redness disappears, the white returning along with the vibrant shade of your irises. His heart pounds inside of his chest.

It is a miracle. You are here. Alive. Breathing. His love has finally returned to him.

“V-03,” Professor Lucius speaks, “please return the bullet to X-02.”

Caleb’s eyes slightly widen. He watches as you slowly bring yourself to your feet. You glance behind you at the pool of blood, the lights reflecting off of the thick liquid. You turn back around, your eyes meeting his. A flash of recognition strikes across your face. You remain quiet, though, composed.

It’s him. The man who has haunted you in both your sleep and in death. Constant memories of you two kept you company while you were being held hostage. In some of them, you found solace, while in others you could feel nothing but anger and resentment towards the man. Your nostrils flare as you huff out a breath of air.

Your heart yearns for him, a sliver of your mind wishing to sink into the safety of his embrace, to have him protect you. Your mind, though, screams at you to run away, to put as much distance between you as him as possible.

A third part of your consciousness splits from the other two. An unreasonable fracture that stems from your body constantly having to heal itself in desperate times of need. Fight or flight seeps into your mind. You are unsure if a spot by Caleb’s side will be one that is safe or one that will bring you nothing but pain and agony.

Your mind is in shambles. All you can feel is pain as your body stitches itself back together. Every nerve ending is reconnected to its rightful place, your fresh skin burning as the stale oxygen of the hangar touches it. Even your eyes feel nothing but pain and suffering as you adjust to the harsh lighting.

Your eye twitches. There is a snap on the inside of your brain, your personality and character shattering. You have unknowingly become a wildcard in this game, a grenade ready to explode at any given moment, taking down as many people as you possible can.

According to the Professor, you’re expendable when he deems it. This is just another way for you to take your ending into your hands instead of allowing a man such as him to write it for you. To Caleb, though, you know that he will do anything in his power to bring you back to him.

Which side will you take? (And who says that the side you choose will be final by the end of the bloodbath?)

You slowly cross the small distance that sits between the two of you. Caleb remains strong in his place. He stands at an arm’s length away from you.

“X-02…your hand.”

Caleb follows the Professor’s command. The black leather of his glove shines beneath the hangar’s harsh white lighting. You hesitate. Unexpectedly, you take another step forward, closing even more of the gap that separates you and Caleb. The tips of his fingers press into your chest, pushing into the thick material of the Farspace Fleet’s uniform. You open your mouth.

Between your teeth sits the metal casing of the bullet that was once filled with protocol energy. It’s silver and your shattered skull has scuffed the metal. You slowly tilt your head forward, releasing the bullet from your teeth, allowing it to fall onto Caleb’s hand.

Your eyes meet. There is something behind your irises that Caleb does not recognize. There familiarity is there but you have…changed. He knows that after everything you have been through that you wouldn’t be the same woman you used to be, but he thought that maybe — just maybe — you would show some warmth towards him.

His fingers curl around the bullet in his hands. The small piece of metal leaves an imprint into his skin.

“I’m getting us out of here,” Caleb whispers.

You don’t respond. Instead, you stay exactly where you are, the Toring chip not currently in charge of your body. You slightly narrow your eyes at him, asking the silent question.

How?

Caleb’s free hand slowly rises, eyes never leaving yours. His hand hangs in the air beside your head. The gun he set on the table, the same one he shot you with, flings into his hand. You don’t flinch. Caleb moves his hand ever so slightly, adjusting his angle, then pulls the trigger.

Professor Lucius falls to the floor, body crumbling to the ground. He hunches over, his blood freely pouring from his body. Caleb clears his throat, the gun remaining in his hand. The weight feels much lighter than it did before, its purpose almost fulfilled.

“I like to think that whoever is in control holds the gun,” Caleb speaks while staring at you. The corners of your lips perk up for a split second.

The men at the table flinch. Caleb finally turns to look at them, his hand slowly lowering. Nobody moves. The scrape of the soles of your shoes fills the silence. Slow and controlled. A weapon ready to be unleashed. You adjust your body to face the man. They stare at you and Caleb with a mixture of awe, fear, and anger on their faces. You clear your throat, eyes flickering between the men.

As if on a cue, every single man at the table reaches for their gun. Caleb throws his arm around your waist, dropping to the floor as bullets and surges of energy burst across the room. He moves your head beneath his chin, the man looking over the edge of the table as the men and officers begin to fire at each other, a few bodies dropping like flies. A few stray bullets head your way, Caleb using his Evol to move them into the nearby concrete pillars.

You attempt to slip free from his grasp but Caleb brings you right back to him, your back pulled against his chest. He pulls the trigger once again just as the man who sits beside you two turns his weapon in your direction. The gunshot makes your ears ring. Their body goes limp, slumping over. You reach up and grab the gun from his hand, checking it out with a quick glance.

Caleb stares at the back of your head. Your hair is drenched with your blood, the back of your skull still reconstructing itself despite you gaining consciousness. It’s nauseating to look at. He can’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling right now in this moment. He can only guess that you are used to the pain, that you are used to the suffering that comes along with the now deceased Professor’s constant experimentation. He knows what it feels like.

“What are you—” Caleb asks but is interrupted by a steel doors flying open.

At the top of the stairs stands Viper alongside Ever soldiers. They begin to fire down upon the small group. The wooden table is engulfed in a blue and orange hue, the gravity around it vibrating as Caleb maneuvers it into the air, slamming it down in front of you and him, shielding you from the barrage of bullets.

Splinters of wood go flying. Caleb spins the two of you around, hunching you over, protecting your exposed skin. The splinters make themselves at home in his flesh, digging in. He winces, his breathing going ragged, and waits for the soldiers to reload before moving.

You open your eyes and scan the fresh battlefield. Many of the officers are face down on the ground, unmoving, blood encasing their bodies. You feel nothing when you stare at them. They knew exactly what they were getting into. 

“Caleb!” Viper’s voice echoes throughout the hangar, “I know you’re in here!”

Movement catches your attention. The General moves behind a cement pillar, bullets now focused on him. Your eyes meet and you glare at him. He doesn’t pay much attention to you. You follow his gaze, noticing that he stares at the Professor. Just beside him lays the glass tablet. The one thing in this entire building that you need to escape and be free from anyone’s control.

You turn to look at Caleb. He pulls his head away from yours, looking down at you. He cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone. You reach up and pinch one of the wooden fragments, one that buried itself in his cheek right below his eye. You pull it free, blood forming just above his skin but not enough to be worried about. Caleb shudders. You press two fingers to the cut and swipe to the left.

The mark is gone.

“Stay here,” you say, “give me a push.”

Caleb is in too much of a trance to do something about stopping you, simply nodding in response, amazed by the way you literally wiped away the splinter and all of the pain that came with it. His grip on your body loosens as you turn back around. The continual sound of bullets being shot at you comes to a slow when the men begin to reload their magazines.

You feel Caleb’s power rest against your back as soon as you push off of the floor. Fingers outstretched, muscles straining, you dart across the cement floor. You reach down and swipe the clear tablet from the Professor’s corpse, bolting towards the right to the closest pillar. Caleb’s power picks you up, your legs slowing as you’re lifted off of the ground, a gasp flying from your lips. You land on the ground behind the safety of the cement pillar.

Viper and his men don’t shoot and instead make their way down the countless metal stairs. You poke your head around the corner, looking at Caleb. You signal for him to come over and he immediately obeys your command, rushing across the small distance. You take a step forward and allow him to fill in the space between you and the cement pillar. He pulls you back to his chest as you look down at the glass tablet in your hand.

It lights up, a flurry of beeps and chirps coming from the device. One side is covered in blood. You wipe it off on your pants, the bright red liquid staining the white fabric.

“You’re here,” Caleb breathes out, still in shock, “you’re alive.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you question aloud, face and voice remaining neutral as you try to figure out the Professor’s tablet.

You click on the blue buttons, navigating your way through the small mainframe and commands. Caleb’s arms move up around you, guns in his hands. He shoots at two men who rush towards you with their own weapons aimed at you. You barely flinch at the sound, still focused on the screen in your hands.

You reach the portion that controls your body and Toring Chip. There is only one thing required to get inside the control board: a retinal scan. You groan and drop your hands, the glass slamming against your thighs.

“What? What is it?” Caleb asks, looking down at you.

“We needed his fucking eyes,” you groan. You pocket the tablet in your jacket. The machine fits perfectly on your stomach, stuck into your Fleet uniform pants.

“Well shit,” Caleb mutters. He glances at the Professor’s corpse. Surely his eyes are intact? Still usable?

“You just had to put the bullet in his head,” you mumble, scanning the aircraft hangar. You look up and to the side, your eyes meeting the General. You let out a breathy chuckle, it dies as quickly as it leaves your mouth, and you point to the tablet that is tucked inside your uniform.

Who is the next best person? The only other official that the Professor would trust enough with control over your body?

The General.

“We need him,” you nod your head at Caleb’s superior.

“We can hack into the tablet when we reach safety,” Caleb breathes out, “he’s not part of the plan.”

“He’s part of mine,” your head snaps to look at him. Caleb hesitates on fighting back. All he can bring himself to do is nod, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat from the sudden and added complications.

The General makes his escape. He begins to run deeper into the hangar, heading towards the planes and helicopters that wait to be used. Caleb grunts, glaring at him as he goes. He opens his mouth to speak to you but you are already gone, chasing after the General. Caleb gasps, pushing off of the wall as he sprints after you.

His long legs catch up to you easily, the man slightly alarmed that you are much faster than you were before. It makes sense, though, seeing how you did spend the last eight months in a torture situation where your bodily autonomy and identity was stripped from your hands. At least he knows that you’ll be able to keep up with him during your escape.

“Hey, hey!” Caleb calls out, barely out of breath. You hold out a hand and he unconsciously places one of the guns inside of it. “It’s not safe, pretty bird!”

You don’t listen to Caleb. Viper and his men reach the bottom floor and begin to shoot once again. The pillars around you two begin to crumble with every bullet that gets lodged into its frame. Bullets fly past your head at high speeds. Caleb flinches and you slow down, letting him rush past you. You know that you can take whatever it is they have for you. Caleb, on the other hand, actually has the possibility of succumbing to an early death.

A bullet lodges itself into your shoulder. You cry out in pain, the sheer force of the metal casing ripping through your body. Caleb stops and uses his Evol to pick you up off of the ground whipping you towards him. You glance at your shoulder, feeling the muscles tingle as the searing heat rips through your body. You grimace and look away, focusing on the gun in your hand. You aim it past Caleb’s head, pulling the trigger right as he grabs you into his arms. The bullet flies towards the general’s head but he turns at the last second, disappearing behind a large cargo plane.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath and conserve your ammunition.

Caleb places the two of you behind a helicopter. His Evol pulls open the doors, pushing you inside, keeping you low on the ground. He looks around, the controls of the small cockpit familiar to him. The Colonel quickly turns his attention back to you, lifting up one hand as your shoulder glows with blue and orange specks. Your eyes flicker to him as pressure is applied to the wound.

“Are you okay?” Caleb gushes, his face hardened despite the desperation in his voice.

“I can take it,” you talk through the pain, “I can get hit. You can’t.” Caleb begins to shake his head but you sharpen your gaze at him, causing him to stop. “I’ll take the shots, okay? I’m healing already. I’ll probably die again but that just means you can come back for my body.”

Caleb sucks in a breath. He knows that it’s the truth, that you are more expendable than he is. You died right in front of him — he killed you — and here you are, alive and breathing. He diverts his gaze for a split second before it moves back to you. He simply nods once in response.

“What did you have planned?” you ask, clearly knowing that he is here for you and you only.

He has to have a plan, right?

“My plan,” Caleb grunts, loosening the tie around his neck, “is to kill everyone and get out of here. My adjutant is waiting in a jet to take us back to Skyhaven.”

“You want to go to Skyhaven?” you shake your head, eyes widening, “that will be a death trap.”

“It’s the only chance we got, pretty bird,” he breathes out, slipping the tie free from his uniform. “What do you suggest?”

Before you can respond, bullets bury themselves into the metal of the helicopter. You poke your head over the edge of the metal, looking through the tinted windows.

“Four men,” you murmur to him, feeling as he presses his gun into your hand. “No sign of Viper.”

“There’s a control board near the table,” Caleb pushes through words out of his mouth, “it will open the hangar. It will give Liam enough time to drop in and get us.”

“Right,” you nod. Your eye twitches, your head now fully healed. There isn’t even a scar to commemorate getting shot in the head.

A bullet cracks through the helicopter’s windows. One of them grazes against your skin, ripping apart your cheek. You gasp, dropping below the metal barrier once again. Caleb’s hand flings to your face, your blood soaking his leather glove. His fingers envelop your face, squishing your flesh beneath his own. You wince, tears filling your eyes.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Caleb asks. He releases your face, eyes focusing on the way your ripped muscles reach for each other, connecting together just like how he repairs his uniform with black thread.

“Nothing,” you clear your throat, mentally screaming at yourself to push away the pain, that the pain is temporarily and will go away soon. “It just hurts.”

Caleb nods. He cups your cheek, the warmth soothing your aching muscles. You lean into his touch, putting the full weight of your head into his hand. He holds you there as bullets fly in your direction.

Caleb’s eyes darken. While you wallow in your pain, trying to will it away and to force yourself to heal faster, he turns his attention back over to the men who close in on your hiding spot. He lets out a quiet sigh, mustering as much energy as he can. You remove his trembling hand from your face, the bullet graze now fully closed. You offer him a small smile, killing it as soon as it blossomed.

“Stay here,” Caleb demands. You simply nod and watch as the tall man slips from the helicopter with no weapon in hand.

The Ever soldiers begin to shoot at him. The bullets stop in mid-air, hovering in place as they vibrate beneath Caleb’s Evol. With one flick of his hand, the bullets return from where they came, burying themselves into the bodies of the soldiers. They drop to the ground, gunshots still ringing out from across the hangar.

You slip free from the helicopter, both guns in your hands, keeping them raised up as your eyes scan the environment for any more men that may appear. The landscape is quiet for the most part, except for the echoing gunshots from the distance. You don’t even realize Viper is right behind you before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you off of the ground.

“Caleb!” you scream out his name, knowing that he will come running as soon as he hears your cry.

Caleb’s head snaps in your direction. He glares at Viper who holds a knife to your neck. He wears the same demented smile as the Professor, one that shows his full indoctrination into Ever and the games that they wish to play. You struggle beneath his hold on you, not caring that the knife is digging itself into your neck. The guns you once held fall to the ground, the metal clattering against the cement.

“One move and I slice her neck,” Viper hisses.

You grab onto his wrist and try to pull it down but your strength is immeasurable compared to Viper’s after the Professor’s latest modifications. Viper pushes the blade into your neck as soon as Caleb takes a step forward. You let out a cry. Your esophagus aches and tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Caleb holds up his hands. A smirk spreads across Viper’s face.

“So she is your weak spot,” the sounds of Viper’s s’s make your skin crawl, the prolonged and dragged out sounds reminding you of the nights you were alone in your cell, crying as your body was doubled over in pain. Viper was there to laugh at you. Mocking. Teasing. Patronizing. Threatening.

Caleb’s gaze meets yours. You scowl, anger crashing through your veins as your tears stain your cheeks and the silver blade that presses into your flesh. Slowly, you nod.

You know what’s coming. You know that another death is near, that you will fall into another deep slumber while the men that surround you play their war games. They will fight it out while your soul leaves your body just for it to return, to endure the pain of reconstruction.

Caleb shakes his head, though. Your eyes widen and Viper’s body goes rigid against yours. The knife falls to the ground with a clatter, remaining by your feet. Caleb tilts his head to the side, his eyes going dark. He closes the distance, flicking his fingers. Viper’s grip on you loosens. You stumble in Caleb’s direction, kicking the knife past Caleb.

Caleb grabs hold of your wrist, fingers digging into your skin. He pushes you behind him. Viper’s body begins to float into the air. You watch in silence while your heart swells with a weird sense of relief — or is it pride?

Caleb clenches his jaw. Viper’s bottom lip trembles as the pressure that surrounds his body begins to increase. He couldn’t even shake his head or beg for mercy if he wanted to, completely under Caleb’s thumb.

In the past, you would have stopped Caleb, asked him to find it in himself to let Viper go and to leave hand in hand with you. But now? Now you would love nothing more than to see the death of a reptile that has plagued your existence for the past eight months.

“Who said you could touch her?” Caleb growls. His open palm begins to close. Viper’s bones crunch under the weight. Discoloration explodes across his skin, the bruises from the pressure immediate. His screams are trapped inside of his throat. “Did you really think that I would let you get away with touching her? To slice her skin with your blade?”

Cracking echoes off of the cement walls.

You glance at the knife on the ground, noticing the General move in the shadows. You step away, leaning down to swipe the knife off of the floor, and begin to walk in his direction. Anger boils inside the pits of your stomach, the reminder that it is the General who pushed you into the Professor’s clutches.

He is the reason why you are changed.

He is the reason why you were tortured for eight long months.

He is the reason why you can no longer recognize yourself in the mirror.

He is the reason why you have become a rag doll for those to play with.

He is the reason why you were ripped from Caleb’s hands.

He needs to die.

Caleb’s fist closes. Viper’s body is in the form of a ball. He drops the reptilian man to the ground, the smack reverberating off of the walls. Caleb turns around to look at you, to see if you are okay, but you aren’t there.

There are no more gunshots in the background. There is nothing but the sound of running footsteps, something that you have forced Caleb to become familiar with. 

Caleb floats himself into the air. He looks over the entirety of the hangar, looking in the direction of the running footsteps. A blue light flickers to the right. He watches as you turn the corner and shoots after you, soaring across the underground building in mere seconds. He drops to the ground, sliding across the cement, his shoulder slamming against the wall.

You chase after the General, the reflection of light showcasing the knife that sits in your hand.

Caleb calls out your name, the sound bouncing off of the walls. You don’t listen to him though, pushing forward with your plan to get the man’s retinal scan and to turn off the Toring Chip that sits in the base of your neck for good.

Your breathing is heavy, body aching from the chase through the hangar. The General is just out of reach, too far to snatch the back of his collar. You swipe the knife in the air, trying to connect with his skin and clothes in an attempt to slow him down.

It doesn’t work, though.

The General turns the corner and disappears inside of a nearby server room. You follow inside, hot on his tail, ready to enact upon the revenge plan you formed in your head. After that…well, you don’t really care what happens as long as your escape plan — one that comes in the form of a six foot two tall Colonel that you can’t figure out if you love or hate.

Your mind is too fragmented and shattered to even make sense of what your relationship is with him after this time.

He calls out your name again. He’s closer now.

You pick up the pace into the server room. The walls are made of granite, carved beneath the earth. Numerous rows of servers are lined up in the room with one min center aisle leading to a wall filled with security footage of the base and its surrounding areas. You glance at the screens, noticing a familiar face laying towards the camera. A pang of remorse and sadness wells inside your chest. Caleb’s adjutant, Liam, is no longer apart of his escape plan.

That just puts a wrench in things, doesn’t it?

“Come out,” your voice booms across the server room, “you’re cornered either way. Would you rather it be me or him who kills you?”

There is no response. You can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

If someone had gone back to a previous version of yourself, one from just little over a year ago, and told you what would happen to you over the course of a year, you would laugh in their face. You would have also offered them help or a ride to a therapist’s office to make for sure that their mental health and wellbeing are okay.

You twist the blade between your fingers, something you learned in middle school when Caleb taught you how to twirl your pencil, and the light shines back into your eyes as you move down the aisles. There are a few echoed footsteps down the hall but the sound bounces right back to you, giving you no way to find where the sound originated from.

“You once said that I reminded you of your wife,” you call out, the memory you and the General dancing together nine months ago. The hilt of the blade falls back into your hands, the move final and definitive. “Perhaps you would like to get one last look at her before you go.”

“Don’t do this,” Caleb’s voice booms across the server room.

You roll your eyes, looking at the cavern’s walls. You memorize the pattern, the black specks and dots that run across the walls. It doesn’t bring you any comfort or solace but instead perpetuates your need to kill the man who has ruined your life. The sound of booming footsteps comes to an end from behind you.

You know who it is. You don’t even need to turn around to know that it is Caleb who places his hands on your hips, stopping you in your track. He leans down, his fingers pushing into your stomach before he connects with the tablet. Caleb sighs and plucks it from the inside of your jacket and pants, revealing it to the server room.

“Your friend is dead,” you whisper, nodding your head at the screen where Liam is on the ground.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Caleb’s response is immediate. “Only you do.”

He steps around you, tablet in hand. You move to follow but his Evol keeps you in place, holding your feet to the ground. You groan, glaring at him from your spot.

“He’s mine,” you yell at him.

“Trust me when I say that you don’t want to do this,” Caleb stops in his path and turns around to look at you, tablet in hand, “you are not a killer. I am.”

You remain silent. Maybe there is a bit of truth in his words. Caleb always knows best when it comes to situations like these. You followed his word at the Farspace Fleet, always having your head low and keeping to yourself. You didn’t draw attention to either you or him, well, until the General offered you that translating job.

And that turned out to be a lie.

Now you’re a shell of who you once were. You’re not even sure what body parts belonged to you originally before you grew them back all over again.

“Caleb,” you yell, “let me go!”

“No!” he snaps back, “I can’t let you become anymore like me!”

There is pain behind Caleb’s voice. It stops you in your tracks, rewiring your brain with the desperation that is laced within his voice. You want to reach out for him, to draw him away from the General, away from the bloodbath that lies outside the server doors. His pain resonates with you.

But…he isn’t a monster. Not to you. Caleb is anything but the monster he has painted himself out to be.

“Caleb,” you choke his name out, tears falling down your face. He gently smiles. It’s kind and reassuring. It softens the hardened feeling that sits in the place where your heart once was. It begins to melt away your shields, the ones you have built so meticulously during your time with the Professor.

“I know,” he nods. “Stay here.”

His Evol releases you. Caleb immediately turns down the aisle, tablet in hand. You close your eyes, fists balled at your sides. You drown out the sounds of the General’s screaming, his cries for mercy and forgiveness.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

“What are you doing, pretty bird?” Caleb whispers into your ear.

You jump in your skin, eyes flying open. You look at him from over your shoulder, feeling his hands wrap around your waist. His calloused fingers slip underneath your shirt — well, his shirt — and his palms flatten against your sides. He pulls you close to him, his chin resting on your shoulder. Your heart begins to steady and you turn your attention back to the stove where a single pot sits.

The flame curls over the bottom of the pan, curling up along the metal. Caleb trails kisses along your neck, moving from the base all the way up to the back of your ear. You blush and giggle at the feathery touch.

“I am attempting to make dinner,” you finally respond, turning to look at him. His purple eyes are even more vibrant up close, the orange and gold specks reflecting the light of the kitchen. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Mhm,” Caleb hums. He buries his face into your neck, and slowly inhales, the scent of your body wash lingering along your skin. He presses another kiss right where your pulse is, earning another laugh from you. “I love boxed macaroni and cheese.”

“Okay, okay, I see you, using its full government name,” you tease, “still in Colonel mode, are we?”

Caleb spins you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, watching as he shakes his head, eye bags slightly darkened from just how tired he is. Caleb shakes his head no in response to your question. His hand clasp your waist, lifting you onto the counter beside the flame.

“You look tired,” you whisper. You reach out and push some of his hair out of his eyes. The man leans into your touch, closing his eyes with a quiet sigh.

“I am tired,” Caleb confirms with a lazy smile, cracking one eye open to look at you, “I’m just happy to be back home.”

You smile, heart skipping a beat. Caleb is still in his Colonel uniform, his hat set off to the side. You reach for his tie and loosen it. Caleb’s tired smile grows even more. You slip the fabric free from his neck, tossing it off to the side while the water in the pot comes to a rolling boil. You help him free himself of the Colonel jacket, letting it fall to the floor as he remains in his dress shirt.

“What did I do to deserve a woman as beautiful and amazing as you?” he asks, slightly tilting his head to the side, watching your hands as you slowly help to unbutton his shirt.

“You mean someone who cooks box macaroni and cheese and helps you with your tie?” you ask.

“Exactly that,” he breathes out with a small nod. “What did I do? Hm? To make you like me again.”

You pause for a moment. You think about the last month of your relationship, the ups and downs. You remember the shared laughs, the morning cuddles on a sunny Sunday morning, the shared showers, and the way he left an obscene amount of food in front of your door when you refused to speak to him. You recall the moment you fell in love with him all over again, the way his purple eyes shimmered under the peace summit’s glittering lights.

Caleb was the one who followed you after the wedding. Caleb was the one who followed you all the way to Linkon when you needed to escape from him. It was Caleb who let you see his scars, the metal that covers his arm. He was the one who let you into his past.

“It was the things you’ve done,” you smile at him.

Caleb leans in and presses a gentle and sweet kiss to your lips. You sigh. He pulls you closer as you melt into the kiss, the uniformed man’s hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“Pretty bird?” Caleb’s voice brings you back to reality. You open your eyes, blinking as you adjust to the dim lighting of the server room. His bloodied hands cup your cheeks, easing you out of your daydream. “Are you okay?”

You nod. Caleb’s eyes examine your face, checking to see if you have any other marks or open wounds he needs to look at. His face, though, has light blood droplets sprayed across it. You don’t pay attention to it, your body feeling weak.

“Did you get it?” you ask. A single tear rolls down your cheek, mixing in with the General’s blood on Caleb’s hands. “Did you…get control of me back?”

Caleb doesn’t respond. He flicks his head upwards once, a silent confirmation. Your legs feel like jelly. Your body almost gives out on you, your weight falling into Caleb. He catches you, one hand slipping to your waist to keep you steady.

“You look tired,” Caleb whispers. You nod again. “Alright…let’s get you out of here.”

Caleb’s hands slip from your face, fingers intertwining with yours. He begins to walk, pulling you along. White noise fills your ears. You look around the room before it switches back to the hallway, the man guiding you out of the base and up the stairs.

You look upon the bloodshed. Bodies lay scattered across the floor. Pools of blood and bloodied footprints trailing from one to another. Discarded guns, other weapons, and bullet casings litter the spaces in between. The wooden table that Caleb flipped is covered in bullet holes.

A small gasp leaves your lips. Caleb stops at the bottom of the stairs, moving you in front of him. You ascend up the metal flights, holding onto the railing.

Exhaustion sweeps over your body. The bullet hole in your shoulder finally closes up, the blood stopping its consistent flow out of your body. You feel Caleb’s hands on your lower back, urging you to keep pushing forward.

You do.

You reach the top of the stairs, your tears freely running down your cheeks, cutting through the red bloodstains. Caleb remains behind, staring at the unlocked tablet. All retinal scans have been deleted from your profile…all but one, that is.

His retinal scan.

Caleb pauses just below the top of the steps. You continue to move forward, each and every step monotonous as the last. Your limbs feel heavy and you are in desperate need of sleep. Real sleep, not the kind the Professor gave you when he pressed the off button.

The metal doors to the outside world stare at you. There is no window to reveal what is outside nor is there any clue or hint that can reassure your safety as you exit the building.

You recall the server room, the security footage on the screens. It was still, not a soul to be found. Just a few dead bodies here and there. Slowly approaching the metal doors, you flatten your palm against the surface. The metal is warm but your fingers immediately become clammy, slipping along the material.

Your fingers reach the doorknobs and you push them down, pressing open the metal door. You push through, feeling the warm night breeze on your skin. You take a single step out of the underground bunker and airplane hangar when suddenly your world goes black.

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

i <3 commenters

[moeitsu]

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore part 2 :)

Wow! You guys really appreciated my first post about Logan's backstory/lore and I'm grateful for all of your feedback!! Here's the link to part 1 if you're interested :)

I'm so happy to see all the love he's getting, its actually surreal to be a part of this fandom again and seeing all the new Wolverine content! The fanart and fanfics are literally my life-source rn. You don't even wanna know what my tiktok saved folder looks like....

You guys asked for more so here is part 2! It's not as organized as the first part, apologies. I'm using both the movies and comics here. Some stuff isn't confirmed but generally accepted in the mcu.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Wolverine first appeared in The Incredible Hulk #180. He was supposed to be a mutated human/animal but the idea was later scrapped.

He was approx. 197 years old when he died in the movie 'Logan'

There's multiple different deaths in the comics but I wont get into that.

Logan is 5'3"- 5'5" (short king)

He has black hair and blue eyes

Before the adamantium, he weighed 196lbs (88kg). After the binding he was 300lbs (136kg)

His body is poisoned by the adamantium metal as it breaks down over time. Requiring him to be in a constant state of regeneration, which begins to slow down as he ages.

Without the metal he probably could have lived a lot longer.

Logan has a fear of water, or rather, drowning. It’s one of the only times can’t regenerate. It would cause his death.

The Weapon X program is also responsible for this fear since he was submerged under water for a long period of time for the binding.

The metal in his body also makes him so heavy it would be very difficult for him to swim.

In the comics Logan temporarily loses his healing factor due to a virus created by Dr. Abraham Cornelius. (Weapon X scientist) This event leaves him vulnerable for the first time in his life, forcing him to confront the reality of his mortality.

His healing ability greatly affects his mental state. Logan can quickly recover from physical damage, but he still feels all the pain. His ability to cope and endure despite the overwhelming suffering is central to his character.

Logan has an acute sense of smell. He can track people and objects across a great distance. It’s so precise that he can identify people’s emotional states such as fear or anger. Even when someone is lying.

Logan was sensitive, shy, and timid as a child.

The first person he ever killed was his biological father.

After killing his father he ran away from home with his friend Rose. (a hired companion to help care for him when he was young). Unfortunately, Logan accidently killed her during a fight.

Logan speaks several languages, due to his extensive life and travels. He speaks English, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, Cheyenne and Lakota.

He’s actually an incredibly smart guy, don’t let him fool you.

Despite his love for alcohol, Logan’s healing factor makes it nearly impossible for him to get drunk.

Logan brews his own beer in the Origins comics. (we love a domestic husband)

On Logan’s birthday every year, Sabretooth seeks him out just to beat him up as a twisted "gift." Sabretooth calls this tradition "birthday beatings."

Spider-Man and Wolverine have teamed up a few times in the comics and they are a hilarious pair.

Logan's "berserker rage" is not just a result of his animalistic mutant powers. But stems from his deep psychological trauma. This side of him only emerges when he is pushed into extreme emotional or physical stress.

At one point before he escaped the Weapon X experiment, he was hired to kill Charles Xavier.

Logan's wife Itsu and son Daken were allegedly killed by the Winter Soldier, however it was later revealed that his son actually lived and had been consumed by hatred for his father. Logan was forced to kill his own son before he could cause more harm.

This act is one of, if not the most painful moment in Logan’s life, as it represents his ultimate failure as a father.

Logan blames himself for Jean Grey’s death.

He lived a majority of his life without his memories. Having no idea who he actually is.

Despite his involvement with the X-Men and his many close relationships he often feels like an outsider. Like he doesn’t belong anywhere. He isolates himself because loneliness is a familiar feeling.

Logan prefers the solitude and sanctity of nature. He loves the outdoors and has a lot of respect for the natural world. Often retreating into the wild for his own peace.

In one comic he baby sits Luke Cage and Jessica Jones daughter. Danielle Cage.

He can be quite playful at times with the younger mutants. For example, building a snowman with Jubilee.

Logan dreams of a normal life. He dreams of having a family with a wife and children and leaving the violence behind.

[dweebsfilingcabinet]

Hey Y'all. As yall probably know, I'm from Appalachia. Western North Carolina. Unless you live off the grid, you're probably aware that Appalachia just got annihilated by hurricane Helene. Everyone here needs help, for cleanup, food, water, etc. Why? "The government hates Appalachia", we all say in unison. I don't usually post stuff like this, no, but it's really really important to me to get this out here.

I work at a little shop in downtown Marshall, which was recently submerged under 27 feet of water--to my knowledge thats 5 feet higher than the flood of 1916. The name of that shop is Of Wand and Earth; it's a little metaphysical shop and tea house. We sell all kinds of stuff--crystals, incense, tea, tarot, we do readings, we have a healing temple, and it's a community hangout spot for anyone. You name it. A big portion of proceeds we make from our sage goes straight to funding indigenous peoples foundations. This store does so much good for the community that if I listed it all, this post would go on and on and on.

My shop owner is an absolute blessing--I've known her since this shop got its beginnings, and I was able to finally, formally work here for two weeks before Helene hit.

I know everyone in downtown Marshall, much like a huge portion of Appalachia, needs help right now. I also know that finding reliable sources to donate to rn is kind of hard--but this one is legit. One of my boss' twin daughters made this gofundme.

The donations will go to helping clean and rebuild Artisun, located in Hot Springs, and Of Wand and Earth, located in Marshall (my boss owns both, and both stores are very similar). Funds will also go to helping the employees (like myself) and vendors that sell from both businesses.

If you show me proof of donation, no matter the amount, I'll do a digital sketch of any human character you want--oc, fandom, you name it.

I am trying to spread this as far as I can, so even if you can't donate, please consider giving this post a reblog. This shop means the world to me, as does my town and all of Appalachia. If the news isn't gonna talk about it, I will. If you need/want any proof that I work here and that this store is legit, please DM me. Here's the link:

Here's some photos of OWAE, and what it currently looks like as well.

[a-mag-meme-a-day]

Poll Series Time!

So recently I've been really into Statistics and making charts and whatnot, which got me thinking: "How Can I Incorporate This Into The Magnus Archives?" Now this is where y'all come in: Over the next little while, I'll be posting polls about favorite episodes and such, and then I will take these answers and make silly little graphs and share them with you guys! Now, for the first question:

This question I am looking for favorite individual Statements, not episodes as a whole. This has nothing to do with Plot, just Vibes.

This is why I will not be including MAG 132 - ENTOMBED or MAG 142 - SCRUTINY in this poll, as they are both pretty much all Plot

Feel free to reblog/comment/ect. any thoughts you may have on why you chose your answer! I really like seeing yalls reasonings, and maybe you might point stuff out that I haven't noticed before!

Below I have linked the Transcripts for each one:

Do Not Open

Lost Johns' Cave

Foundations

Hard Shoulder

Held In Customs

Underground

Dig

We All Ignore the Pit

Dust to Dust

Submerged

A Gravedigger's Envy

The Worms

Have fun, and stay tuned for the next poll!

[saetiate]

saecora/corae timeline (itoshi sae x cora)

friends to lovers, an easy love, actions over words. to love is to be known. in a world where i'm allowed to be much softer than i've ever been. knowing you changed me / loving you changed me. private but not secret

all content can be read as x reader

overview: first meet -- honeymoon phase -- christmas -- valentines -- the imperfections -- domestic bliss -- engagement

other links: moodboard and webweave , tag: #submerge and awaken: sae

author's note: a lot of this is written in chronological order so the fics at the bottom will be better written :')

first meet -> friends

[drafting]

early realization of how we work well together

beginning of relationship (honeymoon phase)

going out with our friends by fangirl0027 , things only his girlfriend would know

the beginning of the relationship / honeymoon phase is beautiful, candlelit dinners and nights spent together

how does he know you're it with him? , favorite positions

christmas

christmas | packing and donating | snowed in | date night

valentine's day

date night moodboard by zeninsama

the imperfections

sae reminding you he loves you on bad days

fic about below ; fic about below 2 ; post about below (written in the tags)

after around 6 months - 1 year of dating we start to get caught up in our own lives. we get too busy to really see each other much and lowk we forget we're dating, not really but it's almost like we're not dating at all. i begin to think he doesn't like me all that much and i just don't break it off because it's fine and whatever. suddenly we haven't seen each other for three months. he leans into a conversation with some girl and the media goes off about them dating and i crash out about it (fic about this). i forget to mention that we're dating to some guy who's been flirting with me though i've been too oblivious to see it, the guy thinks i've been single this whole time (fic about this). it gets super messy.

and then we both have to have an honest conversation about our relationship and putting the effort in and that's when we start to make time for each other again. he learns to say more, to come home more, to see me more. i get into the habit of reaching out, of saying exactly what i want. i move into his place. things are much easier after that. we relearn each other and to be known is to be loved and we know each other like no other. i understand his non-communicative love. he understands what i mean even when i fumble my words.

being mad at sae for having exes by mitsuwuyaa

after knowing the imperfections

selfless love , tabloid rumours by luffysprincess

domestic bliss

how handles my trauma ; fic: with you, my heart known home.

sae by tohruies

extra stuff: anniversary night by zeninsama , what he likes to see me wear , waking up in the morning by fangirl0027 , sae putting a collar on you by mitsuwuyaa , wearing lingerie for him by tartagliove

engagement

our relationship is private but not secret so a social media post about our engagement is how his team finds out he's even seriously dating someone :')

post about this

my draft about this so far below :>

all the time after

having kids together

growing old with sae

extra notes

date started: 6 dec 2024

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai X Odasaku's Little Sister Ch24

(PSA: This story contains an original character. That being said, it also has relationship building along with real life development and character studies. If that interests you please don’t let that deter you from reading. It’s worth it, I promise)

Chapter 23: "I'll Fight For You, Every Time"

Summary: Racing against the clock, Chuuya and a Odasaku's wounded little sister form an unlikely bond, as the ginger haired mafioso realizes that maybe having someone to fight for him wasn’t all bad after all. Meanwhile Dazai races to her side, terrified of being too late yet again to save the one person that meant his entire world.

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old chuuya, manipulation, small bit of stabbing, talks of Odasaku's death, grumpy angry chuuya for real here, chuuya is suffering and we all love it (poor boy), sad Chuuya, mentions of killing and assassins, murder, morally grey complex characters, self destruction, sad boy Dazai, traumatized Dazai, Mentions of Dazai's *cough cough* toxic hobbies like unaliving, lovesick Dazai.

(This is chapter twenty-four of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. I'll link the master list below so you can get the full story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Master List Here- To Start from Ch1 <3

A03 Here

Work Count: 7k

Chapter 24:

"I'll Fight For You, Always"

When Dazai arrived back to Japan after his grueling and closed off mission from the outside world, the boy had felt his mind clear of the unmistakable fog that had plagued his psyche ever since that drunk night. 

Mori’s plan had worked, in a way. 

The mission was designed for one thing, to keep him focused and occupied, to push away any semblance of thought of irreverent matters far down inside a box the boy could never reach. 

It wasn’t new either.

He had used this tactic many times before, when life was a bit too hard, when he wanted to not think about his own inadiques and flaws. 

When he wanted an escape because death wasn’t an option after a failed attempt. 

In fact, the boss was the one that had first introduced the toxic coping mechanism to the boy, the first time it ever being used was when he found that Dazai had tried to shove a multitude of pills down his fifteen year old throat a couple days after he had met the struggling child. 

Of course for Mori, Dazai dying would’ve disrupted his plans to be his only witness to the murder of the previous boss. So the man did everything he could to keep the boy alive. 

And that’s how the submerged method of total and complete isolation from the problem became introduced. 

And Dazai had taken to it quite well, all things considered. A perfectly crafted distraction always seemed to do the trick, and least for a little while. That, and it was also a win win for the boss as it caused his favorite demon prodigy to complete even the most complex and gruesomest of tasks in his name.

Dazai wasn’t an idiot though, he knew he was being used in some capacity for Mori’s sick and twisted plans for the mafia, but because it benefited him as well he never opposed to the idea, getting quite comfortable with the idea of forgetting and shoving the most unpressent stuff down in his chest to focus on a problems he could fix. 

Because murder, torture, embazzelment, commiting the most huenius crimes known to man was far easier to stomach then the twisted uncertainly of life and his own feelings. 

Dazai then sighed to himself, getting off the port mafia issued plane before stretching his limbs, the phantom blood on his hands from a couple hours before completely negating whatever issues he was having in the outside world. 

He felt cleansed of it, still living in the haze, like a twisted baptism of his own humanity, lost in the mindset of the supposed demon prodigy and nothing like the weak boy that he hated named Dazai Osamu. 

Yet, the second he turned his phone back on, it started to get bombarded by hundreds of missed calls, each of them lighting up his screen like a blatant alarm to his own dissociation. 

That was weird. Sure, usually he got a couple missed messages but this? 

This seemed excessive. 

Frowning at the sight, Dazai tempted turning the phone back off to keep his placid and self induced calm before the object started to ring again, like it had sensed the heat between his palm. 

And since the boy couldn’t resist the raising curiosity, he answered.  “What?” 

Almost immediately a very familiar voice echoed into his ears, bringing back the repressed memories in Bar Lupin every time he heard his voice. 

Ango. 

And he was livid. “Dazai! You better explain yourself right now before I send the entire government on the doors of the port mafia, and don’t think I’m kidding because I already have them lined up and waiting.” 

Pausing in confusion, Dazai soaked in his strange words before replying. “Damn, that’s quite a threat, Ango. Any reason why you’re inciting war right now? And why you called me a million times? I’m a very busy man, you know.” 

Ango was not having it though, considering he had been trying to reach the boy for the last three hours non stop. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know what you’re doing, where you are. And Dazai so god help me if anything happens to her I will..” 

At that, Dazai’s eyes widened, his head snapping up with newfound seriousness as he felt his stomach start to drop. What did Ango just say? Surely he misheard. “Wait wait wait, back up. Happens to who? You’re not making sense there, Ango.”

Ango’s voice came back like a bullet, shocking the boy’s system and shattering the haze that he had so carefully cultivated with that mission. “Who else would I mean? Asagao! Her phone’s location is in port mafia territory.” 

Suddenly, a blaze of red, a fiery auburn swept across his vision. Her haunting yet empty icy blue eyes with a hint of turquoise, the constellations of freckles across her skin.

Like a ghost, an apparition, everything came back full force, waking him from the dream of disillusion he was in. 

Every uncertain and insecure feeling came pouring out of the box that he had shoved down into the abyss, the very idea of her consuming him completely like he had been pulled back under the water to drown with an anchor of pure iron. 

Asagao. 

Odasakus’s little sister, his Asagao.

He then mentally slapped himself immediately. No, not his. Why did he think that? He wiped the possessive thoughts from his mind to focus on the disturbing and horrifying facts. 

She was in port mafia territory. 

The most dangerous place for her in the entire world. No, that couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be there. She had no reason to be. Why would she go there when she knew the risks and the dangers? 

Feeling all semblance of breath escape from his lungs, Dazai’s fingers clutched onto his phone impossibly tight, his knuckles turning white from the force as he managed to ask in a charged whisper. “What did you just say?”

Ango didn’t truly understand the danger though, still thinking his old friend was responsible. “Don’t act surprised. You’re the only one that would be twisted enough to take her there. Did you not listen to any of my warnings?” 

Dazai felt his head spin, his mind filled with hundreds of possibilities and thoughts of what could be possibly happening to her inside the mafia. The air is silent, like noose around his neck. 

But this time, the suffocation wasn’t welcome. 

Because Ango was right. He would’ve brought her there if she was any other person. He wouldn’t have cared about her safety or the danger it posed. But she wasn’t just anyone, she was the most important person in this life. 

She was his everything. 

Knowing he had to say something, the boy slowly spoke, his voice strained on every syllable. “Ango..I haven’t been in port mafia territory. I was out of the country on a job. I didn’t take her there.”

The air turned silent again, causing the government agent to shutter a horrifying breath through the phone. “Then who…oh god, you don’t think Mori..” 

Yet before he could finish, Dazai took off running, off the jet bridge of the private jet towards the territory of the port mafia, all logic and composure gone completely in place of an erratic heart and panicked breath. 

Because if Mori had her, if he had somehow found out about her existence, about being a hellhound, an elite assassin, the last of her kind, Dazai would tear the entire world down to bring her back. 

It was Odasaku’s wish after all, for her to never be involved in such a place but a part of him hated that the thought only briefly crossed his mind. 

No, his best friend's promise was a mere flicker to his own all consuming thoughts and selfish desires. 

His feet moved not because of his dead friends’ desires but his own. Maybe that showed how far gone the boy truly was for her but he didn’t have the time or the breath to care. No, he just needed to get to her, to make sure she was safe. 

Barely hearing Ango voice through the phone he clutched in his hand, Dazai didn’t give a response, the sound muffled like it was underwater in his own ears. “Dazai? Hey, Dazai!” 

Nothing mattered, nothing else but her. 

After a couple minutes he seemed to register the voice before just barely ordering out for her sake. “Send me the location. I’m bringing her back.” 

Hanging up the phone without another word, Dazai looked down at the phone waiting for the text only to see a message from Asagao herself at the bottom of Ango’s frantic ones, his reeling mind pausing for a moment before he opened it with shaking fingers. 

From: Asa-chan

Miss you Samu. Come back soon. 

The words on the screen, they were both a balm and venom to his soul, easing him and shaking him with dread in each syllable as Dazai took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes to put the phone up to his forehead and press it against the skin of his bandages. 

And behind his eyelids, memories, horrible memories and feelings crashed into him, of Odasaku’s lifeless eyes, of him reaching out to him and only catching air, of being too late to save the one person that mattered to him in the world. 

No. 

She would be safe. She had to be. 

Dazai wasn’t a positive kid but for once in his life he clung to naive optimism, to the hope that his desire for her to be unscathed would be enough to make it true. Because for him, there was no other option. 

To be left alone, to not see her again, to be too late like last time..

The doubt started to creep in once more before Dazai’s phone buzzed with the location Ango had before he shook the negative from his mind in order to keep running once more. 

He would not lose her like Odasaku, he would not fail her like he did to his best friend. 

Dazai couldn't be too late again, he just..couldn’t. 

Time moved impossibly slow as Chuuya tried to take in the surroundings around him. His ears were ringing with the residue of the earlier panic from his own insecurities as the world continued to turn regardless. 

His senses then awakened little by little, noticing the tiny details first. The brisk chill in the air from the air conditioning vents next to him, the sound of an ongoing fight somewhere below him, and the sight of red, an unmistakable auburn in front of him as she guarded his body and heart from harm. 

Feeling the dryness of his mouth, the boy’s gaze then flickered down to the crimson reminder slowly painting her side and soaking her white shirt. 

That’s right. She was stabbed. 

She willingly got stabbed in order to protect him. 

Even after he yelled at her, pushed her away and said the cruelest things to her. Even though he self destructed beyond repair and sent her running like everyone else in his life, she was still here. 

What an idiot. An absolute, self proclaimed idiot. He didn’t deserve that. 

And the things she just said, how’d she’d protect him, didn’t she have any self respect? Why didn’t she run away like everyone else? Why was she still standing in front of him with a bloody side, proclaiming to earn his friendship? 

Shirase on the other hand looked both parts annoyed and confused by the declaration, not knowing who this girl was that had suddenly appeared like magic between their personal matters. “Protected? By who, a little girl like you? Don’t make me laugh. Stay out of this before you get yourself killed.” 

Asa only narrowed her eyes though, not moving an inch. “You heard me. If you want to get to him, you’ll have to go through me.” 

The old Sheep member blinked in disbelief at her audacity before his lips curved into a cruel smile, taking a step forward to answer her challenge. Obviously not taking her seriously. “Alright, I can arrange that..” 

Racing forward towards the two, Chuuya’s eyes widened, sensing the impending danger as he willed his muscles to move out of their stunned state. “A-Asa..” 

But before he could finish her name, Asagao easily dodged Shirase’s sloppy punch, grabbing his arm before kicking the boy in the stomach forcibly causing him to gasp and wheeze out a breath of surprise before crumbling to his hands and knees, not expecting such a heavy hit. 

Yet that was the flaw with Shirase, always arrogant but always biting off more than he could chew. Not that he’d ever admit that himself of course. 

Gritting his teeth in frustration, the boy then swiped the discarded knife from the ground that he brought to stab Chuuya before swinging it upwards with speed towards Asagao’s neck only for her to quickly grab his wrist before he was able to hit skin. 

And with the blade inches from the neck, Shirase tried to push it closer only for Asa to use her own strength to keep it in the same exact position as the boy cursed. “You little..you don't know what you’re dealing with.” 

Leaning closer, Shirase then gazed at her wounded side before he resorted to his most coveted skill, brushing against her ear as he whispered cruelly. “Give it up girl, that blade you stupidity stood in front of and got stabbed with was laced with rat poison. You have about ten minutes before you’re done for, so I’d just give up..” 

He hoped the shock would be enough for her strength to diminish even slightly in order to shove the blade fully into the neck and be done with it. Being faced with the idea of death was shocking for anyone, especially one with a time limit like her. 

Yet that’s when he heard the auburn haired girl..laugh? 

The sound was jarring in itself, causing the boy to snap his head back to look at her only to find her smiling and laughing at his suggestion like he hadn’t just played the part of her grim reaper. It was kind of unnerving. 

Smiling a bit wider, her lips then turned predatory before leaning closer to him, her voice confident and cocky. “Bold of you to assume I need ten minutes to beat you.” 

And just like that, the trick he had attempted to use on this small girl had backfired, ricocheted in his face as he felt his own hand loosen in surprise and shock and her statement.

This girl, she had used his own cheat against him. 

Asagao then smirked, sensing his loss on the blade before she fully pulled the sharp edge away from her neck, twisting his wrist in an unnatural direction as Shirase yelped and dropped the blade onto the floor unwillingly and kicked him down.

Watching his defeat on the floor for a moment, how he pathetically stayed on his hands and knees like a coward, Asa then turned back to Chuuya before giving him an unbothered smile like nothing had happened. 

And Chuuya was stunned, looking down at the defeated and humiliated Shirase before turning back to her. He was so angry at her. So incredibly angry that she did something so stupid, so moronic like put herself in front of a blade for him. 

Yet, when he spoke there was no anger to be found. “You’re..such an idiot.” 

Asa only smiled at that, used to the insult. “Funny, I’ve been told that before.” 

Shaking his head in exasperation, normally Chuuya would’ve found her response an annoyance, but given the circumstance, he felt his eyes soften with newfound vulunabitly. What was this stupid ass girl doing to him? 

She was getting under his skin like no one had done before. 

The two then paused when they heard Shirase’s voice ring out through the entire space, laced with hate and disdain as he struggled back to his feet from Asa’s beating. “All of you, eliminate Chuuya. I want him dead!” 

Chuuya and Asagao then look down at the remaining GCC members as they all turn towards the gingered haired boy, taking the order to kill Chuuya to heart as they start to move all at once as the boy cursed. “Shit..they’re serious about this..” 

Shirase watched the sight with sick amusement, his voice boarding on manic as he clung to the railing to watch his enemies' demise. “What are you going to do now, little girl? Think you can take on my whole army just to save worthless little Chuuya?” 

Frowning at his words, Chuuya then looked down at the impending fight, his knuckles white from how tightly he was clenching his fists. 

He wanted to tell Asagao to run, to let him handle it like he always does but the words didn't come as he glared at the incoming armed GSS members. 

Yet that’s when Asa simply reached her hands up before wrapping her fingers around the large round framed glasses on her face before pulling them down and lifting them out to Chuuya. “Chu Chu, hold these for me please.” 

The boy looked down at the carefully folded glasses in confusion, his hands reaching up to take them with a mutter. “What are you doing?”

The girl only smiles though, keeping her eyes closed as she turns back to Shirase. “I know they make you uncomfortable so you don’t have to look.” 

Then, ever so slowly the girl opens her eyes as Shirase’s entire face turns pale at the sight, the dead, lifeless, hollow emptiness of them seeping into the kid’s soul and making him shutter almost instantly. 

Taking a step back, Shirase’s voice trembles. “W-What..you’re a..a..”

Yet she only stood still, watching the boy’s reaction as he gazed upon something from his nightmares, something that caused his entire body to shake and tremble just from the very sight. She was aware of what he wanted to say, what he thought she was. 

And Asa couldn’t deny it either. That word, that singular word that she had tried to run from, she knew it fit her better then she ever wanted it to. It was the perfect word for her, for a girl who felt nothing about death, who could pull the trigger on thousands of innocent lives and never spare a single thought. 

But maybe if it could help Chuuya, if it could save his life, maybe admitting it now wasn’t so bad. Because if this was the only thing she could do for him, the only thing she could be that would benefit him in any way, then so be it. 

Parting her lips, she then finished her thought for him, speaking the forbidden words she always denied in order to make them true for the sake of the boy in front of her. “A monster? Yeah, I suppose so.”

Using her time stop ability, Asagao then disappeared from the railing completely before Chuuya blinked to see her on the bottom floor, ready to face a horde of fully armed soldiers just for his sake. 

He watched the way the men tensed at the sight of her eyes, the same way he reacted when he first saw them. How they trembled, how they clutched their weapons a bit together and gazed at her like some sort of unchained beast or a demon. 

Lifting her hand towards the men, Asa’s voice turned mocking. “I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again. You want to get to Chuuya? Then you’ll have to get through me. Now, who's first?” 

The air turns silent, no one moving as she then glances at the clock, counting the minutes in her head. 

Shirase said she had ten minutes before the rat poison took effect and shut down her body. Two minutes had passed since then which meant she had had eight minutes to take these guys down before she was in trouble. 

And yes, to a normal person that would be more than mildly concerning, but to Asa it made her lips curve into a devious smile of anticipation, already feeling the slight spark of adrenaline coating her veins and making her hands twitch. 

Challenge accepted. 

Then without waiting for the men to act first, Asagao raced towards the group, her analytical eyes catching everyone of their movements as she worked on disarming and taking down them one at a time. 

The nearby Flags all felt their mouths drop at her boldness, seeing her fearlessly dive into an uneven fight as Albatross whistled and gripped his machete tighter. “Damn, look at little Red go! Come on, we can’t let her do all the work!”

Lippman smiles at the idea, reaching into his jacket before pulling out two machine pistols to join the fray. “I agree, let’s be the handsome knights and help our princess out!’

Piano Man nodded in agreement, unwinding the lethal wire from his weapon before giving the group the signal to charge forward. “Yes, let’s show the kid why we’re one of the most lethal groups in the port mafia. For Chuuya.” 

Albatross cheers, swinging his machete up as he shouts. “For Chuuya!” 

The group agreed as they broke through the chaos only for Chuuya himself to look down at the clashing of weapons and sounds of gunfire with stunned silence.

Not just Asa but everyone, they were fighting for him. Risking their lives just for him.

 It was almost too good to be true, like some sort of dream or illusion. But it was a real, it was happening right before his eyes. 

No more was he alone, fighting in the woods all by himself, screaming for help to no avail. No longer was he mentally and physically slumped against the edge of that cliff and bleeding out from his own failures. 

He had finally found it, a family. 

Someone to care about him. 

Someone that would fight for him no matter what. 

Raising her head, Asa then looked up at Chuuya from above before lifting her hand out of him, a cheerful tone in her voice even though she was in the middle of a fight. “Hey Chu Chu! Come on down here. I wanna see how you fight! Let’s take them together!” 

And normally he’d dismiss such a request, normally he’d shrug it off. But somehow, he found himself using his gravity manipulation to stop off the balcony and land right next to her, the red glow around him a sign of his intent. 

Asagao’s smile widens at the sight, turning back to the men before the two kids leap into action together, their movements both lethal and precise as they start to take down the GSS one by one. 

Together. 

And as he throws punches and dodges, he can’t help but notice how in control Asagao is in her fight, how she seems to be able to predict her enemies next movement like nothing. It was incredibly scary but now that he looked at it up close he couldn’t help but admire it too. She truly was a one woman army, a force to be reckoned with. 

Chuuya then paused when he felt a fist come towards him while he was watching the girl, cursing as he put his hand up to block only to feel another hand grip his wrist firmly as the boy watched the man’s punch slow down to an unanimated halt. 

His brows screwed in confusion, snapping his head to the owner of the hand only to find Asagao smiling at him.

 Wait, she used her time stop ability on him? That’s why he didn’t get punched. 

Watching, the girl then winked at him before pulling his body with her quickly, her steps moving him to the back of the armed men and letting go as Chuuya watched the world reanimate and the man throw a punch to nothing but air. 

He stood stunned at the action, slowly realizing the power Asagao held within her ability. Sure, he knew she was strong, he knew that her time stop ability was terrifying in its own right but seeing it from an outside perspective and seeing it used firsthand was something else entirely. 

So much so, Chuuya looked down at his hand before an amused smile crossed his lips. He was never one for partners or teammates before. He was never one for relieving on another to sink or swim but her ability, together it felt powerful and new. 

Snapping his hand up, the boy jumped back into the fight, swinging and kicking and using his gravity ability like before, except when Asagao lifted out of her hand to him, this time he took it. 

 He took it every single time. 

And as the fight went on, the two started to become more in sync with each other. He felt his body move towards hers, using her time stop ability in tandem with his gravity ability to disappear and reappear in and out of reality with her help. 

The two were unstoppable, in a way he never imagined before, leaning on each other and using their own strengths to negate their weaknesses. He had never relied on anyone before but relying on her, it felt nice. 

Meanwhile, Asa was having the time of her life, the drug of the fight coursing through her as her lips turned more and more dark, a sharp laugh escaping her lips as she tore through the men to knock them unconscious.

This is what she was made for after all, what she was conditioned to do, what her trainers and the leaders of the hellhound assassin organization made her into, a weapon of unspeakable force, and every second she could feel the programming coursing through her veins. 

The desire to destroy, to tear apart everything around her and take joy in it. To allow the drug of her own adrenaline to seep into her skin and make her absolutely unstoppable. 

Her mind was blurred, tunneled into nothing but fighting. 

Analyzing the situation around her, she allowed her eyes to take in every detail, every sight and sound and smell of the entire space to catalog it and use it to her own advantage

Everything was so loud and so quiet all at once, willing her to keep moving, to keep going until all of them were down and out of the way. 

Giving another sharp laugh, Asa vaguely felt her internal organs start to shut down from the poison coursing through her system before quickly glancing to the clock and continuing the minutes. 

Three minutes left before her body gave out. 

And quite honestly, she probably should’ve slowed down, should’ve stopped her body from moving so much so the wound didn’t open any further but that thought was far in the back of her mind, overtaken by her engrained function to fight, by the drug of her own psyche.  

She knew once her body slowed it would be over, so she made sure to give one hell of a fight before then. 

Chuuya’s safety was paramount. 

Iceman watched the fight through his own battle, gaging the animalistic way she moved, the hurricane of force she was before he felt his blood run cold as she wiped her head to the side and he saw a small tattoo on the back of her neck. 

No, not a tattoo. 

The color and the lines were different. It wasn’t painted ink on the skin. 

No, it was embedded into the skin.

 It was a brand.

A brand with the letter H curved in tiny markings, like someone had sheared the iron tip to the girl's skin. 

The assassin stared at the small symbol with disbelief, knowing exactly where it had come from. 

Sure, not many knew of the marks given that it was a lost organization but for a hitman like Iceman, he had seen that brand on the necks of a couple people in his time, all of them on mindless killing machines without the capacity of emotion. 

Snapping his head back up to Asa to see her fight, Iceman’s mind started to connect the pieces. The familiar brutalistic way she was fighting, her dull corpse-like eyes, the way she was tearing through the men with a sick twisted smile on her face..he had seen it before, in an organization that he thought was lost completely. 

One he had hoped was lost anyway. 

There was no mistaking it. That brand, her fighting, he knew immediately. “Hellhound..” 

But as he continued to watch her, it wasn’t the violence that made him continue to stare but rather, her restraint. 

Because every hellhound he had met in this life never had a lick of restraint. They killed with no mercy, no emotion and no understanding. They were more like attack dogs than anything, taking in the words of their masters and following them with no question. 

Assassins like them, they didn’t know how to stop, nor did they want to in any capacity. 

But watching Asagao, from an outside perspective it looked like she was out of control, some sort of unleashed monster that couldn’t control their own actions and maybe that was true to some extent. 

Yet he had known hellhounds before and she..she was not acting like one.

These men, she wasn’t killing any of them even when she so clearly could. If anything, she seemed to be playing around with them rather than finding the shortest way to end the fight once and for all. 

Which wasn’t like the normal attack dog she should’ve been. 

That’s when he noticed her shaking hand, controlled with speechless restraint for her true desires, her true programming. It was probably taking everything within her not to just massacree everything in her path and yet she was holding so strong. 

And Iceman couldn’t help but be in awe of it. To see one without a master, without orders and yet able to hold onto their own mind and desires in the way that she did. 

It was nearly impossible, and yet here she was all the same. 

So much so the man could help but think back to their conversation earlier tonight. He was right, she had killed before. She probably had killed hundreds of times before but right now, now she was choosing not to. 

And that was absolutely astonishing in every way imaginable. 

A hellhound that didn’t kill. How odd that was. 

As the minutes ticked down, Asa felt her body betray her more and more as she fought through to the inevitable shut down she would face once she stopped moving, everyone else obvious to the internal danger inside her own veins. 

And when the last armed man fell, her wild eyes snapped up to look around the room for more threats only to be met with silence. They had done it, they had taken down the entire GSS force on their own. 

Chuuya huffed out a breath, still riding the high from the fight as he glanced at Asa with an amused smile for their unexpected partnership. He couldn’t believe how well they worked together, how impressive her ability matched with hers. 

Feeling his heart pound with empowering adrenaline, he then watched as Asa turned to him with a similar smile before speaking softly. “Did we do it? There’s no more?” 

Nodding back, the boy answered with pride. “Yeah, we did it.” 

He then watched as the girl’s shoulders slumped with relief, the adrenaline slowly draining from her body as her hands began to tremble as her sides.”Ah, good..”

Chuuya noticed the shake right away, his eyes turning in concern before he watched the seemingly indestructible Asagao fall to her knees before crumbling to the side as her body hit the floor right before his eyes. 

The sight caused the boy’s world to completely freeze, a gasp of horror in his chest as he raced towards her, falling to his knees to meet her as he rolled her body so she was laying on her back. “A-Asagao?! What the hell...what’s wrong..?” 

Letting out a slight laugh turned wheeze she looked up at him with hazy eyes, her skin turning deathly pale by the second. “H-Hey..this is awkward huh? Seems like that blade had..rat poison on it..haha..funny right?” 

At her words, Chuuya’s eyes widened with horror. Rat poison? She was poisoned this entire time and still fought like that? 

He was on the edge of being livid for her stupid decision and terrified for what it meant. “A-And you didn’t say anything?!” 

Asa gave another weak laugh at that. “I didn’t wanna kill the vibe, you know? This is kinda a downer..am I right…? Besides, I was super cool back there, wasn’t I?” 

Letting out a choked breath, Chuuya’s hands fell to the ground as he soaked in her words. She didn’t want to bring down the vibe? She was poisoned and she didn’t say anything because it would’ve been what? An inconvenience? 

Damn it, why wasn’t she more selfish? 

The ginger boy then shook his head before answering back, his voice wavering with unkempt emotion. “You idiot..yeah you were really cool..but that doesn’t mean you can die on me either..”

Asa smiled at that, her response less strong than before, like she was fading out of consciousness by the second. “Ah, I wouldn’t dare..that would really kill the vibe for sure..besides…I haven’t earned the title..of being your friend yet..”

At that, his heart twisted with an ugly sense of reality and guilt. That’s all she cared about? Being his friend? Damn it, he wrote her off so easily before, called her a psycho and freak when all she wanted was something so simple, so god damn simple, and he couldn’t even give her that. 

He was an idiot, a goddamn idiot. She didn’t have to come here tonight, she didn’t have to help him when he asked her and all she asked for in exchange was for his friendship. It was so childish, so like her. 

Standing in front of a blade, hiding evidence just so she could spend more time with him, Chuuya started to realize the extent of how far she would go just to not be lonely anymore. 

No, it wasn’t just that. 

It showed how far she would go for him . 

He was so selfish, thinking of his own past and insecurities, thinking she was going to betray him and make fun of him like Dazai, like everyone else in his life. 

But now he saw her, he saw the extent of her heart. 

Damn it, he felt like the worst person in the entire world, watching the consequences of his own actions. “You..you didn’t have to earn anything..I was being an ass before..” 

It was foolish really, to think she had to earn anything, especially anything to do with him. He had hurt her so badly earlier, saying that no one would ever love her truly. 

Fuck, she even said it herself that she didn’t believe it was possible for her to be loved, didn’t she? And instead of denying it he had fed her mind into thinking it was really true. 

He was then broken out of his own self loathing when he saw Asagao’s eyes start to flutter closed, causing the boy to immediately panic and shake her shoulders.

 No, this couldn’t be happening. “H-Hey..hey hey hey no no don’t you dare do that. Wake up. You better fucking wake up or I’m gonna kick your ass. You hear me? You didn’t have to earn my friendship, you don’t have to earn anything. Just don’t…please don’t…” 

Seeing her grow paler by the second, Chuuya felt absolutely useless, his hands shaking as he pleaded in his mind for her to wake up, to be okay, to piss him off a million times more. 

He had to tell her that they were friends, best friends. 

That her one foolish and singular wish had come true. 

Just then, the doors to the room burst open, causing Chuuya’s head to snap up only to lock eyes with a very familiar head of messy brown hair, the boy’s unbandaged eye wild and erratic as he entered the space. 

And for the first time in his life, Chuuya was glad he had appeared. “Dazai..” 

Dazai’s shoulders tensed at the scene, immediately locking onto the scene before him before running as fast as he could to kneel beside the pale Asagao. “A-Asa..? No no no Asa..” 

With trembling hands he reached for her body only to pull away and find blood on his palm from the wound in her side as Dazai felt his heart shatter inside his chest, a sick sense of deja vu crashing into him like a tidal wave of destruction. 

Odasaku! 

He heard a voice, a memory of his past self, screaming a name, doing the same motions as before, the past and the present mixing together. 

Don’t go, please..!

His voice again, another memory, another stab to his chest. Panic coursed through his veins, suffocating him, making it hard to breathe, to see, to think.

You can’t, not like this..

It was the same, the blood on his palms, just like Odasaku, she was laying the same way, oh god she was bleeding just like him. She was going to..going to…

Yet that’s when he heard her voice, her beautiful, breathtaking voice break through his spiral as he gasped and immediately locked eyes with her hollow ones. “S-Samu..?”

Almost immediately, he clung to her, like the lifeline she was to him. “Y-Yeah, It’s me. Hey, love.” 

She smiled weakly in response, looking up at him before speaking above a whisper. “You’re back.” 

Nodding in reply, Dazai forced a smile to his own lips, not wanting to worry her with his own unraveling. “Y-Yeah I’m back..I came back..” 

He then felt her fragile fingers reach for the hem of his mafia jacket, grabbing it with as much strength she could muster before she spoke, soft and sweet. “I missed you.”

Widening his eyes, Dazai looked down at the sight before he felt his heart squeeze inside him to a painful level. She always knew how to make him unravel, whether she realized it or not. “M-Me too, love. I missed you too.” 

Asa then seemed to notice the distress on his face, her hand reaching up before lightly pressing it against the bandages of his eye, careful not to touch the skin which only made him crumble more with how considerate she was, even now. 

Brushing her fingers across the gauze, she looked up at him with apology. “I’m sorry Samu..I’m probably bringing up some bad..memories for you..like this..huh?” 

Dazai inhaled sharply at that. She was right, the way she was positioned, the blood on his palms, even the placement of his hand was bringing back awful memories of the moment he watched his best friend die. 

And looking at her like this, it felt like he was watching another Oda disappear from him before his very eyes. 

So he chose not to answer her question, shaking his head with a gentle hush. “I..that doesn’t matter..don’t speak..save your energy.” 

Asa seemed to notice the inner emotions of his words though, she always did, her hand brushing against his bandaged eye again before forcing her voice to come out stronger. “It’s okay Samu..I’m not gonna die...I’ve been trained..to detox poison..fast..that’s why I..took the hit..for Chu Chu..”

She was trying to reassure him. This girl, she had poison in her system, she was probably bleeding out and all she thought about was him. It made Dazai whimper in reminder of how perfect, how selfless she truly was. 

Always thinking about him, about that slug, but never herself.

Asagao’s lips then curved into a gentle smile once more before he felt her hand move from the safety of the gauze on his eye to his cheek, touching the skin and making his body shutter at the intimate foreign feeling.

Locking eyes with him, she finished gently.  “...I won’t leave you alone. Promise.” 

Dazai’s breath hitched at that, hearing exactly what he needed to in that moment as his own hand reached up and gently wrapped around her wrist, anchoring him to her both mentally and physically. 

Then closing his eyes, he locked her words away deep within himself, willing them to be true, because he knew he would be broken if they weren’t. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Nodding in response, Asa’s eyes then fluttered once more. “I’m gonna...rest now..don’t freak out..I’m okay..”

A sharp sense of fear coursed through him at the action but he nodded regardless, trusting her promise to be okay, to not leave him in this horrible awful world alone. “Y-Yeah, okay, love. Get some rest..” 

Sensing he wasn’t going to panic, Asagao’s hand grew limp in his hold, her head lulling to the side as she finally fell unconscious, Dazai’s fingers feeling her pulse for a reminder of her promise before he gently placed her arm back onto her chest. 

The boy then turned silent, looking down at her, his body moving on his own as he leaned forward, over her before pressing a soft light kiss on her forehead, so gentle, like a butterflies wing or a whisper of a breeze, but it was there all the same. 

To him it was a gesture, a thank you for being alive, for not being too late. 

And for Chuuya watching, the mafioso couldn’t help but widen his eyes. He had never seen Dazai be so kind, so gentle before. Asagao said that their relationship was only in name but looking at his partner now, it certainly didn’t look like that was true. 

Because right now, Dazai was gazing at Asa like she was the most precious thing in the entire universe. 

Although that’s when the bandaged boy slowly stood up before turning to Chuuya, his eyes void of any of the care he showed previously, knowing that his partner was the one that had put her in this kind of danger. “Take her.” 

The executive's voice was so cold and icy like a lethal venom as Chuuya felt his nerves bunch up with guilt for his actions. “W-What?” 

Dazai only narrowed his eyes though, clearly not in the mood for explanations. “Take her. She needs to go to the hospital. You brought her here, you’ll make sure she’s safe. Or else.”

His words weren't a suggestion or an ask. No, they were a threat, a statement of absolute truth. Chuuya was going to help Asagao, he was going to make up for his mistake or else there would be hell to pay. 

And though it seemed like Dazai wanted to say much more to the kid, it was obvious Asa’s well being was top priority, causing Chuuya to gently pick up Asagao in his arms without complaint. “What are you going to do?”

The demon prodigy then reached for his gun, taking it out as he held it by its side, his voice void of any feeling before pointing it towards the unconscious men that Chuuya and Asa had fought. “Go.”

Tightening his hold of Asa in his arms, Chuuya got the message immediately.

 Dazai was going to kill all of the men, all of the people that had dared to point a gun at her. And though he wanted to argue, the boy knew that Dazai’s wraith could not be quelled so easily. 

So Chuuya went off running, crandling Asa in his arms as he heard the lingering gun shots with each step, hoping and praying for her to hang on. 

For his best friend to be alright. 

[lucis-dove]

Random Soap MacTavish headcanons {2}

sfw and nsfw

pairing: sgt. Soap MacTavish x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, fem!reader, smut, creampie, oral kink, groping, fingering, twt links (straight up porn)

a/n: if I have not seen the scene when Soap floats to he Scottish Highlands, it haven't happened. yes I'm in denial and will re-watch the mw2 campaign religiously, while living in my bubble, I shall feed all of those who wants to join me

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish MASTERLIST

sfw

-god this man chews gum a.fucking.lot, Soap always have a pack of gum in his pocket or bag

-sometimes you send him a look when he starts chewing with the front of his teeth and the sound gets just a tad bit too obnoxious, he always notices but there's two ways he reacts

-either he gives you a bashful smile and shrug before going back to whatever he's doing, mindful to not disturb you again

-or, he simply meets your gaze with arched brows, white gum on full display between his teeth as he offers you a boyish smile, that reaction always precedes his playful mood of teasing you with his chewing, a sharp pop sounding every now and then as he somehow manages to create little bubbles with a simple

-although Soap may be the shortest out of 141, this man is far from small, just put him in a setting where everyone isn't Ghost and he towers over most and it just so happens that you get reminded of it while almost every time you catch him working out

-you just throw him a glance and get kinda stunned when seeing the way your hulking powerhouse of a boyfriend beats the punching bag or throw around weights as if they weight absolutely nothing

-he loves swimming and water

-like, this man wants to go to any body of water at least once on his leave, sometimes just to sit and watch the wave crash against the beach, or the soft clucking of a lake

-sometimes he even takes a quick dip despite being in Scotland and the water impossibly is above 11

-you just watch him in disbelief as he strip and wades into the water until it reaches the middle of his thighs and he submerges himself, you blame it on the military for frying his cold-receptors, but he argues he's been likes this since being a wee lad

nsfw under the cut

-this mf is nasty, Soap loves to see his cum drip out of you and if you’ll let him, he’ll never want to prove his pull-out game is as strong as he boasts about

-sometimes, he is so in his head that he can’t rid himself of his boner until he can shoot his load inside you, jerks himself off with his tip resting just inside your pretty cunt

-ohmygod I just imagined Soap having an oral kink, but more so watching your lips wrap round things, your tongue running over whatever is sealed within your mouth

-of course he loves when you give him oral, having you sink to your knees before him with a football game in the background after a stressful day, he can see heaven the way his head cranes backwards

-but, it doesn't even need to be anything sexual, you can be licking an ice cream, a lollipop, Jesus Christ your fucking fingers from the sauce when you cook, he can't take his eyes off of you

-Soap is sweat in the bedroom, adores making you feel good and reach your high enough times until you push his hands away and lay there with a drunk smile, limbs slack, eyes half-lidded as they meet his adoringly

-however, sometimes he touches you because he wants to play

-you can be laying in bed, short tank top and panties on as he relaxes in joggers, and his fingers just starts running up and down your scantily clad bottom half

-it starts with Soap just running his hands over your arse, lower spine, until they dip again and he toys with your underwear, fingers occasionally slipping over your clothed pussy, pressing into the seam of your cunt before going back to groping your cheeks

-then he pushes it further, dipping his fingers beneath your panties to toy with your cunt, only to take your panties off altogether to lazily finger you

-he plays for a long time, feeling how you grew wetter and squirm all the more, in the end breathing a desperate pleading 'Johnny' and he knows it'll come because he never stops until it does, just wanting to see for how long you'll let him run his hands over you before getting to needy

[linked-to-sleep]

These are some sketches of my oc Link. His Nickname is Courage or Wave. On his first quest he was cursed to become a mermaid whenever he is submerged in water (none of that H2O just add water stuff).

If you have any questions, please let me know!! I'm open to them!

[marionetteangie]

AN: Hi TKLUTS fans it’s time to break your hearts again with a new headcanon of mine! This isn’t a fic per se, more like a short idea dump I had. If you wanna make anything inspired by it, feel free! (I also write other stuff there’s links on my page lol) 🥰

He’d noticed it about two weeks after. He was just getting ready for a day at the Museum of Natural History, donning a plain old coat, when the first bout of sickness had washed over him. Conseil had held his hair back as he’d emptied it all, quietly whispering to his master to try and soothe him, but the pain in Pierre’s chest wasn’t eased by ridding it. He’d taken a day off work, and Conseil had tended to him, brushing his hair and making sure he drank plenty of water. He’d put a flannel on his head and insisted that Pierre stay in bed, and he’d seemed to recover, but upon trying to go to work the next day, the same thing happened again. This time, Conseil got him three days off work, and tended to him with the best doctor he could find, but they couldn’t find anything particularly wrong with him, chalking it up to a bout of flu.

Two weeks off, nothing changed. Pierre began to worry they’d lose the house, though Conseil reminded him in his delirium that he’d managed to keep it the entire time they were on the Nautilus, purely by the amount of fortune he’d earned from his various scientific writings.

Four weeks, nothing changed. Throwing up every day wasn’t pleasant, by any means, but he’d grown used to it. What he wasn’t used to, on week 5, was discovering a particularly odd taste in his mouth. Something had settled on his tongue, and he reached in to touch it… and pulled out a petal. Immediately, Pierre recoiled. Had he eaten it by mistake? Had Conseil accidentally adorned one of his meals with it? But Conseil didn’t recognize it, from the ones in their home, and immediately, Pierre set to work. The flower was that of a Nymphaeaceae, commonly growing in water, specifically freshwater… The thought of water made Pierre’s chest hurt. Water… he called for Conseil, begging for a drink, but immediately spat it out. His servant held such pity in his eyes, seeing his master reduced to this, a crumbling wreck of a man, depressed and alone, spending his days in bed with a disease which none of them knew, five weeks inert and stuck. Conseil reached down, and planted a gentle, tearful kiss on Pierre’s warm brow, he was feverish and no amount of cool flannels were calming it, and for the first time since they met, Pierre saw tears falling from Conseil’s eyes, and tried to reach up to wipe them away, but his embarrassed servant merely ran, trying to find a quiet corner to sob in peace. Pierre felt another odd taste, and reached in again, a shiver coiling down his spine as his fingers brushed another. Another petal. Flowers couldn’t grow in one’s body, that was a tall tale parents told in order to get children to not eat apple seeds… and exhausted from the thinking, Pierre lay his head down, only to wake up a few hours later and discover his mouth was now full of them.

Six weeks. By now he’d started coughing up whole flowers. They were water lilies, begging for a single moment submerged, their stems dying to latch onto the floor under the water, to touch the pebbles that lay there, curl themselves in the soil and sand and take root where they belonged. And with every passing moment he fought to rid himself of them, Pierre felt as if he was drowning, clawing at his shirt in a mad rage and physically beating his chest until he coughed up more. Conseil found him one morning sitting in the corner of his room, kneeling down, and touching his face. He looked so despondent, but Conseil needed not use words, merely put his blonde hair against Pierre’s scrawny brown hair. Pierre sat still, but for the gesture he was grateful.

Seven weeks. Eight weeks. Nine. Ten. Thirteen. Twenty seven… Thirty nine. And then a year, like this.

By now, Pierre had lost mobility. He couldn’t walk. He could barely speak. Conseil had taken him to pushing him in a wheelchair. He needed a bag at all times to catch any fallen lilies. He became the curiosity of Paris, the former academic who was now a growing garden… his colleagues avoided him at all costs, not wanting association with him. Ned sent him a letter, but couldn’t bear to visit, he hated the thought of seeing Pierre in such a state. The only person who he could confide in was Conseil, he might as well be called Console by now, as that is what he spent most of his days doing. Not out of pity, mind you, but out of love.

Another year.

And on the 833rd day, Conseil took them for an outing. They went to Normandy, arriving before dawn atop those beautiful cliffs, watching the sun rise. And as it did, Pierre looked down, and noticed a familiar shape underwater. There he was, the single person who could cure his disease. And Conseil, understanding as ever, pushed Pierre onto the seashore. The wheels grated against the sand, but neither of them minded. And as the Nautilus docked for a moment on the sands, Pierre knew he’d seen them.

“Good morning, my love.” The words touched Pierre’s ears like a symphony, and Conseil pushed him forward and down toward the sea, where he was caught in the arms of the one he’d missed, the one he thought hadn’t reciprocated his feelings, the one who understood him above all others.

And after 20,000 hours, his hanahaki was finally no more.

(My designs for the main 3:)

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 2 (of 2)

Link to chapter 1 here

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest.

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW! *blares smut horn* Plot with smut. But, you have been warned.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Elltavia’s senses were prickling again, whatever was buried in the remains of this temple was beating like a rotted heart, pulsing decay and corruption outwards through the forest. They were close to the cause, she could feel it. She just hoped whatever was the cause of the infection didn’t get to her before she could save her home.

Along the far wall of the room were four murals that stood out in a line. The once clean, carved scenes were eroded and time-beaten, but just about decipherable. 

The four images depicted monks in various states of torment. The first monk strained under the weight of a massive rock, muscles taut with effort as it pressed down upon him. The second monk, blood dripping from his hand and ears, was feverishly inscribing words upon a scroll, clearly in agony. In the third panel, a monk appeared submerged and drowning beneath a cascade of shimmering gold, his features twisted and bloated. 

The final tableau showed two figures, stripped bare, entwined in an act that should have been pleasurable. However, their expressions were ambiguous, dancing somewhere between ecstasy and agony. The knife suspended ominously above their heads left little doubt about their fate.

Underneath each carving was a word in an ancient language, which Gale was able to translate. 

STRENGTH. KNOWLEDGE. WEALTH. LUST

Hovering above the scenes of suffering was a much larger image of a monk in resplendent robes, his hands covering his eyes as he sat before a closed book as if to shield himself from an unbearable truth. The book sat on a carved pedestal, and shimmered with golden light. The lines of the monk’s robes flowed gracefully, dancing in a breeze that no longer existed. The expression of the hidden face was left to the imagination, but Gale’s imagination didn’t have to work very hard. The monk was shielding himself from whatever was written in that book. 

Gale‘s chest suddenly went tight, as though the orb that had once branded his skin and burned an aching, insatiable hunger within him was back. The ghost of a pain which would never truly leave him.  He couldn’t help but see himself in the image, as though it was a mocking interpretation of his great folly. 

Unlike this monk, when he was tempted, he had not been strong enough to cover his eyes. He had suffered the same torment as the other tortured souls. It wouldn't have seemed out of place to see a carving of a wizard with a dark orb branded upon his chest, bent over and crippled by unending pain and sharp regret. His hand once again absentmindedly moved to his chest.

“What is in that book, do you think?” Elltavia was started to get concerned by the faraway look in Gale’s eyes. She had not known him long, but she knew it was unlike him to be this quiet. Whether in a classroom, or on an adventure - he was a born teacher. He had the engaging, adaptable, patient, rare soul of someone who had collected knowledge like precious treasure, and all he seemed to ever want to do is share it. He was not made to be silent, and it worried her.

"Fortune and glory, Kidd." Gale continued to read the fragile inscriptions—warnings, death sentences, holy scriptures, and gold-tinted promises of doom for the unworthy. Yet, for those with the resolve to grasp it, an ultimate blessing. "Fortune and glory."

After more studying, Gale pressed his hand against an indent in the wall, and a rumbling echoed around them.

"I think we've found where the ritual would take place," he murmured.

The carved, ancient pedestal holding the book shown in the mural rose from the ground in the room’s centre, a half-decayed corpse resting against it, its mouldering hand still holding the book open, as if in a final, desperate grasp for whatever it contained. 

"That book should not be open." Gale could feel the power emanating from it, warping and stretching the weave of magic around it. This was no ordinary spellcraft; it was far beyond his capabilities. Once, he would have been desperate to grasp it, to drink the forbidden magic until it drowned him. A long time ago, It almost had.

The source of the blight was finally clear. The book had to be closed, or the rot would continue to spread, cursing the forest and luring as many as it could to this place. The book was a lure, a power to draw people here to be tested, indifferent to the fate it bestowed upon them. The burning ache of the sussur, which had been simmering under his skin, began to flare and bubble. His magic tingled in his bones, demanding to be used, to cast protection over him. His mind was flooded with the weave, and the agony of not being able to use it was overwhelming.

“Close the book!” He hissed through clenched teeth, doubled over in pain. 

Elltavia approached the book tentatively, with ranger’s care. The closer she got, the more Gale’s words became a far-away song, trailing distantly away from the fluttering pages. Each turn caused a soft rustle; leaves whispering secrets in a forest grove. It was the sound of her home, and it was calling to her. The book cast a gentle glow, soft as yellow moonlight. And with every intake of breath, she could swear the scent of pine mingled with the earthy perfume of petrichor sank deep, holding and soothing her. 

Surely within its pages lay the answers they were looking for. It called out to her with a sweetness that stirred her soul, a siren's song promising sanctuary. The glowing page was right there in front of her, she just had to read the inscription…

I am the lure in darkest gloom, A whispered hope, a flick'ring bloom. In greed-drenched shade, I bide my time, Thy greatest urge will feed my shrine.

What am I? A tempter, sly, In every soul, doth ever lie. Resist the call for but one hour, Prevail, and gain the worthy’s power

“Elltavia, NO!” 

And she burned.

It felt as though tendrils of flame were invading her through her nose, her mouth, sinking through her skin, licking the very bones of her. It was tugging at her, calling to her, scalding all the way through her. She was a woman aflame, and there was only one way to extinguish the fire. She needed Gale, and she needed him now. 

He rushed over, and managed to close the book - but not before catching a glimpse of the inscription within. As soon as he had read the words, the book and pedestal began to descend ominously back into the ground.

“Gale..” Elltavia’s voice was suddenly breathy and skin clammy as Gale grabbed hold of her and started to check her over. 

“It’s the test, Kidd.” He appraised her pupils to see that they were blown wide, her breathing heavy. The spell was undeniably affecting her, not just emotionally but physically too. Her skin glimmered with a light sheen of sweat. Were her lips fuller, even more inviting than before? Surely it was a trick of the light? The urge to press his own against them, to run his tongue along her bottom lip, was all-consuming.

He pulled away abruptly, almost harshly, startled by the intensity of his desire. He had anticipated challenges to his resolve, but not in this way. He had mentally prepared himself for his ambition, his hubris, his self-worth to be cut out and dissected in front of him, to once again have to pull himself back from the brink of his unending desperation to prove himself. It was his tragic flaw, it always would be. He had not prepared himself for this.

The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of heat and something deeper, something elemental. Lust. It hung thick in the air, dense and suffocating. It wrapped around him like a lover’s embrace, seeping into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly starving, and she was ripe and ready to be savoured. He remembered when she had bitten the apple from his desk. How her eyes had met his as she bit down, how the juice had trailed down from the side of her lips to her chin…

“It sai..said.” Elltavia had her arms wrapped around herself, as though trying to hold herself back, and Gale desperately wanted to unfurl them and spread her out on the ground like a map. There was priceless treasure to be discovered. He ached from not touching her.

“It said something about lure.. Temptation..” Her breathing was heavy and lust-soaked. “Resist for an hour.. And we’ll pass the test.”

An hour of this, he thought bleakly, he did not know how he would stop himself from devouring her.

“I have rope” she panted “In my pack. You should tie me up.”

His response to that was a low, feral groan which seemed to rumble from deep within his chest. “I don’t think bondage will help me out here, Kidd.”

Struggling against this overwhelming desire was futile; he was a weary child resisting the pull of the receding tide, or a final leaf clinging to its branch before the onslaught of autumn's chill. He was no match for her; he was a raft-bound castaway - and she was the oncoming tempest. 

Together they melted into a pool of tongue and hands, rushed and heavy. There was no softness or words of delicacy, no declarations or promises of what would come after. There was only urgency. There was only her and him and now. At the meet of their lips and the ripping of her shirt underneath his strong, tanned hands there was a rumbling noise which ripped around them and caused loose stone and dust to fall from the ceiling. The shock of it managed to distract them long enough to prise themselves away from each other. The second they pulled apart, the noise stopped. 

“An earthquake?” He questioned through rough panting, speaking out loud rather than to her in particular. He quickly moved to one of the far walls and ran his hands over it, feeling for any structural damage and waiting silently for an aftershock.

As soon as his fingers stroked the grooves in the stone, Elltavia was behind him. She pushed him against the wall, and pressed herself against his back, standing on her tiptoes to lick and bite at the nape of his neck. 

“Who cares?” She whined. Her hands made their way up the back of his shirt and she dragged her nails down his skin. The sound he made was sinful, and as soon as her tongue licked at the sweat trailing down his spine, the rumbling started again. This time they were both knocked backwards by the wall Gale was pressed against, as it started to straighten out and move towards them. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, on his back. He could barely think straight, all his focus and all his blood was currently gathered in hard desperation between his legs. Urging to be sank into the ranger panting on the floor next to him. 

She swung her leg round to mount herself on top of him, pinning him to the ground under her hips.

“Wait” he hissed through gritted teeth. She managed to stop herself from sucking on his bottom lip long enough to hear what he wanted to say, she desperately hoped it would be something filthy. Her restraint in her longing for his mouth didn’t stop her grinding her hips down against him. She gasped at how hard he was underneath her. To her shock, he grabbed her upper arms and managed, with difficulty, to push her off him and he sprang up and backed away from her with his arms out. 

“Listen, Kidd, when we give into our temptation, to our urge, it sets off the trap.” 

She tried to take in what he was saying, and she used her sharp, predator’s focus to survey the room. She had not previously noticed the heavy layer of dust which had settled on the holy ground. Bonedust. The bleak realisation sank in. This was all that was left of others who had been tested. The book was an incendiary, designed to spark simmering desire into a roaring flame. Resist it, or be crushed.

“I am your temptation?” She rasped. “Gale, of all the fucking things to desire?!” 

“You’re one to talk!” He snapped. The cord that felt wrapped around him was tightening in frustration. This woman was literally going to be the death of him. This stubborn, infuriating, smart-ass was how he was going to die. He wanted to take his whip out and coil the leather around her… 

“Fuck!” He said, turning around so he could no longer see her pouring out of her sweaty, ripped shirt. 

“The temptation is each other… right?” She breathed.

“Obviously.” 

“Then… then we can still.. Touch ourselves, can’t we?”

It was like pouring oil on a bonfire, the thought of her unbound and lost in her own touch, bringing herself to the brink of pleasure and plunging over a cliff of her own making was unbearable. He wanted to palm himself right there in front of her just from the thought of it. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer, her hand quickly found its way into her underwear and to where she needed it most. She was a writhing mess on the floor - but the walls did not move. 

He sank and crawled to her, and positioned himself over her, resting his forearms on the ground next to her shoulders, clenching his fists in frustration and caging her beneath him, but not touching her. He allowed one of his knees to push her thigh upwards, splaying her further apart. But he did not give her any further contact. He just held himself over her as she moaned and bucked her hips into her own hand. His gaze was as desperate and intense as any touch could be. Beads of sweat traced paths down his temple, falling onto her skin like liquid fire. Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve alight with anticipation. As he lowered his head, his breath danced against her neck, tantalisingly close yet never touching. His lips hovered, a mere whisper away, and she teetered on the edge of combustion.

“I’ve wanted you since you flashed your thigh at my desk.” His voice was almost unrecognisable, dark as sin itself. The lilt of his words caressing her skin. “I wanted to be that fruit on your tongue. The flesh on your lips.”  She gasped, but could not respond. Her eyes fluttered shut as she imagined how he would taste as he spilled herself down her throat in ecstasy. 

“Don’t you dare stop looking at me.” He growled.

Her eyes flashed open again to meet his, and his command would have sent her spiralling, but something was wrong. 

“I can’t.. It won’t…” She removed her hand in desperation, and it took every ounce of resilience he had not to grab hold of her wrist and drag her lust-soaked fingers between his teeth and roll his tongue against them. “It just makes it worse.” 

The walls were still at each end of the room, they had barely moved. The two of them were safe, maybe there was time to…

“Fuck it.” He said, and he lifted her robe and tore her underwear off her. Gods, the scent of her. He wanted to spend a whole day with his nose buried at the source of her divine, needy musk.

 He did not have a whole day, he had minutes at most. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked, shaking with the resolve it took to show her the decency she deserved.

“No” She responded, but before he could even attempt to pull himself away from her, she wrapped her powerful warrior's thighs around him and flipped them so he was beneath her. 

“This is what I want.” 

She turned round above him so her cunt was hovering over his face, just out of reach. This position gave her the chance to unbuckle his belt and finally get her hands where she wanted them. There was no time to undress him, to peel him out of his tight trousers the way she wanted to. This would have to do. He moaned beneath her as she finally freed him from his confinement, and without grace or hesitation - took the whole of him into her mouth. 

In response, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her down against his lips. Locking her tight against him, he groaned and pushed his tongue into her. The taste of her was technicolour.  He worked as quickly as he could to relieve the tight, coiling need which was squeezing the life out of them, but not quickly enough. 

The walls had pushed towards them quicker than he anticipated, and it wasn’t long until he felt the hard force of it suddenly pressing against his feet. 

Elltavia must have become aware at the same time he did, because her mouth was suddenly off him and she rolled away, completely disentangling them and stopping the movement of the walls. 

They were both slick with sweat, and with each other. 

“Get over to the far end. Now.” He snapped at her. The narrowing of the walls had now turned the large, circular room into a slim corridor. It would only take a couple more metres of movement and they would be crushed to dust. 

“Do not bark orders at me!” She retorted with a hiss. “That is really not helping the situation!” She retreated as far away as him as possible, pressed her thighs together, and put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear his heavy, laboured breathing.

The hour may as well have been a day. They faced away from each other, breaths heavy and skin slick with sweat. They had both tried to cover themselves back up with what little material had not been ripped. At this moment the threat of being crushed by the weight of an ancient temple wall seemed inconsequential compared to the overwhelming intensity of this moment. Gale thought that If this were to be his end, he would welcome it with open arms. At one point in his life, he had resigned himself to the fact he would die alone at the order of a pitiless Goddess. What a privilege it would be then, to die in the arms of a merciful one. In the arms of Elltavia Kidd’Alka. 

He thought of her as he faced the wall. He thought of her in every way except the one which had pushed its way to the front of his mind and coursed its way through his blood. He thought of her fierce loyalty to her home, how she had travelled far and risked her life. How she was blunt and forthcoming and how she refused to dull any of her bladed wit. He thought of the shimmering seasons of her eyes, of how long it must take her to braid her hair, how she has the wisdom of an elder and the bright laugh of a child. He thought of how much he wanted her to live, and how much he wanted to see her again. And suddenly, the urge simmered - it was there, but it no longer suffocated him. He could breathe. His lust had been mixed with something else, and the sweet combination had strengthened his resolve. He could do this. 

Elltavia thought of the forest. Of her home. Of the children who fell out of trees and laughed in the dirt that caught them. Of the people who had spent their lives telling stories and weaving tradition through play and prayer. Of the mothers who had fletched arrows with babes at their breast. She remembered the first time she summoned an animal, and how the swift spring bird had flitted between branches and sunbeams to settle upon her shoulder. She remembered the poor autumn fox which she had found dead from the spreading curse. She would beat this. She would return home, and she would show Gale the place they had saved together. Her blood cooled, her resolve steeled. She could do this. 

An hour passed in silence. The two of them focused and determined. Two people who ached enough to not touch each other. And it worked.

Suddenly, it was as though they had emerged from holding their breath in ice water. The walls rumbled and slowly retreated back to their stations. 

“Is it over?” Elltavia spoke quietly, too nervous to turn round or remove her hands from her ears. Her answer came when a strong, comforting hand placed itself on her shoulder and she didn’t burn from the touch. She let Gale turn her, and take the hands from her ears to kiss them. 

“Not for me'' He said gently, stroking her cheek and tucking a braid behind her ear.  Before he could kiss her properly, without magical kindling feeding his flame for her, the book reappeared. It fluttered once more, and settled on its final page.

“Is it safe?”

“I think so” He said, more calmly than he felt. “We passed the test.”

He made his way to where the soft glow welcomed him to read, and spoke the book’s final inscription aloud…

Behold, two souls of spirit true Live long - old magic rests in you. 

“If this is some bullshit about how the power was inside us all along, I'm going to be really annoyed.” Elltavia was still breathless, but relieved.

“Maybe…” He said thoughtfully, but from the book and the murals and tenacity of the ancient magic, Gale didn’t believe that was the case. There must be the mentioned ‘reward’ somewhere… But, he was not interested. Godly gifts he could live without. There were other things more worthy of his attention now. Other desires to fulfill. 

“What do we do about the book?” she asked, closing it and running her finger over the cover. “Will you take it to the Academy?”

“No. This belongs here. It’s as much a part of the forest as you are.” He turned to look at her, her bright eyes fierce, “You know what lies here now, you can tell your community - you can spread the story and let them become guardians of magic and knowledge. And this can stay here… closed.”

He bent down and kissed her, soft but purposeful. Full of the promise of things to come.

“You know, Kidd. Before you dropped by my lecture I was reading about this amulet…”

She entwined her fingers with his as they made their way back into the lush greenery of her vibrant forest home. “Sounds interesting professor, I take it the next adventure would also require you to bring along your whip?” 

“Oh, most definitely. I could give you another demonstration now if you’d like?”

Her bright laugh echoed through the trees as they walked into the distance, unaware of the ancient gift bestowed upon them by the temple in the forest. Perhaps one day, Gale would notice his hair wasn't greying as quickly, or that the furrows between his eyes no longer deepened despite the endless days of laughter shared with Elltavia. Maybe then, they would realise they had been chosen as timeless protectors: the wizard destined to safeguard the magic he once sought to consume, and the ranger courageous enough to save her homeland.

[dru-plays-starbound]

This is the bottom layer of the right-hand side of the Polis II-c colony.

Here we have a 'tech' friend into their retro arcades and vaporwave (WW furnishing, Foodies furniture, nuggubs' Vanilla+);

Testing out the slime set (Foodies furniture);

An 'attract a tenant with a tungsten lamp and door' quest, which I decided needed to be a scientist (Foodies furniture, Prop pack, nuggubs' Vanilla+, More Outpost Objects, Extended Furniture Crafting);

On the other side we have a 'Nuu' friend (Foodies furniture, Maple32);

Another 'tech' friend, who I decided was an avian compsci person (Foodies furniture);

A 'Submerged' friend, whom I spent ages retrieving the stuff from the Altais Old Mine colony for (it's not craftable, only available from underwater Nuu vendors) (Maple32, Prop pack, nuggubs' Vanilla+, Elithian Races)

This is the area that links the top left and right sides of this colony together. I thought I'd try out some of the wallpaper techniques suggested by marionandinteriordesign. IDK if they're any good; they are very small spaces.

Here we have:

An Apex friend

An 'iron chair and iron lamp' quest

An empty space for a spare workbench and forge (and a spare bed for someone)

A trader of unusual things

The teleporter, and a Totally Normal 1960's Earth Police Box.

(Mods: WW furnishing, Foodies furniture, nuggubs' Mod Suite, Elithian Races, Maple32, Prop pack, City Co. Street Props, WW's VA-11 HALL-A, More Teleportz)

[danseurdesfleurs]

Someone You Love

“  I can’t quite tell what I’m seeing at first. The small bursts of color against an otherwise dark background are seemingly random until I get a closer look and find a myriad of stars drifting amidst the shadows. Some are brighter than others, but each seems to have its own unique appearance. There’s a female figure in the middle, rising out of the darkness, her body lit from below in a beautiful shade of the palest gold. She’s reaching for a lovely silvery blue star, easily the brightest one in the portrait, but I don’t miss the violet star shining near the hand that’s still submerged behind her, its own glow a pale lavender playing across her skin…

  …My eyes trace the figure once more, following the lines of her curves, and it hits me then that this portrait is of me. A moment taken from Rhys’s memory of our night in Helion’s glowing tub. I don’t think I’ve ever been so beautiful as the way she’s painted me, but memory is often kinder when you’re thinking of someone you…someone you love.”

***********

This is my interpretation of one (technically two, counting the previous chapter the quote references) of my favorite scenes from Chasing Starlight written by the very talented author @whisperingmidnights 💕💕💕 (linked below)

Chasing Starlight is my favorite ACOTAR fanfiction. I remember thinking it felt like an extension to the books because of how beautifully it’s written and how vibrant the story became in my mind while reading it. That is the main reason I love the ACOTAR series, the world that was so easily built in my imagination and the need to bring every scene to life (if I had all the time in the world to do so). And that is why I fell in love with her writing long before I decided to reach out to her to tell her how much I admire her work.

I’ve been lucky to know August more and more every day for the better part of this year and she has, surprisingly, stuck around to get to know every single part of me as well. It’s an amazing friendship that has grown into something I am unbelievably grateful for.

🧚🏻‍♀️💕🕊️

[skyward-floored]

oooh wait I wanna try— what about an AU about the axolotl?

- hero-of-the-wolf

Welllll I sort of already have one vaguely related to axolotls, since I have the Zora in swamp Link look somewhat like axolotls when they’re babies... but I’ll give you one anyway >:)

I think this would work nicely as a wind waker sequel— ages after we Link drives the Master Sword into Ganon’s forehead, sealing him forever at the bottom of the ocean... somehow the seal gets loose. Millennia underwater leaves Ganon marginally insane, very little of his humanity left, and when he emerges and finds New Hyrule, he sets out on a rampage, gaining power from what he destroys.

Link and Zelda, friends in this au, set off to stop him, but whatever method they attempt fails, and Ganon uses whatever powers he’s accidentally gained from spending so long submerged in (possibly cursed) water, and captures Zelda and blasts Link away.

...Except instead of dying when he gets launched into the ocean, Link gets turned into an axolotl. For some reason.

Ganon’s magic did that somehow and Link has no clue why, but now whenever he gets submerged, he’s an axolotl. This can be helpful, but also very annoying.

The goal is basically to find the Master Sword whereever it is under the ocean so he can reseal Ganon, and there’s lots of underwater exploration, and fun stuff like that. Which you do as an axolotl, because it’s more fun than silly old Zora armor or masks or flippers or whatever. And eventually you find the Master Sword and save Zelda and the kingdom is saved hooray :D

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 5

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148623040#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4

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I'm lost in the Mist.

Stumbling, shuffling along, disoriented.

Pain is my constant companion here, wrapped around me, strangling me.

No matter where I go, I can't escape it. As though it holds some kind of vengeful grudge, it hunts me and seeks to torture me. Without a doubt, it wants to kill me, but somehow I just can't die.

Over and over, it takes me to the brink. But, as soon as my heart stops, someone reaches in and squeezes it. My veins flush with adrenaline. My blood pounds in my ears, roaring like a raging waterfall. The shadowy hand squeezes and squeezes until my heart starts again.

The Mist is outraged.

The Mist yearns for my death.

It captures me. Stuffs me in a box to await my execution. Each time, it tries a new method. First, it burns me alive in a great roaring pyre. I howl as the flames overtake me and melt away my flesh and bones. My whole body turns to ash. And yet - somehow - I come back.

The cycle begins anew. I run again. Am captured. Whipped. Tortured. And then, the Mist tries to skin me as I scream and beg for it to stop. It holds me down as I writhe and twist and thrash in agony. In the end, I bleed out into the intangible ground.

Hands squeeze my heart again.

Evol flushes my veins.

And again, I come back. Again, I run. Back into my cage. Back into this endless timeless nightmare. Here, the Mist submerges me in boiling water. Blisters bubble all over me from head to toe, disfiguring my arms and legs and face.

I scream and scream. I beg. I plead.

I want to die.

Please, just let me die.

"You can endure this. Just a little longer."

Lies.

Falsehoods.

I can't survive this.

I just can't.

My heart stops again. I push away the shadowy hands. I push and shove. I bite and claw at them. But, I don't stand a chance. Without my consent, they reset the clock; they pull me back from the edge.

Ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub...

Another heartbeat guides my own.

I can't resist as it pulls me along, back into the fray.

I'm crying now. Weeping. All dignity gone.

"Endure it, Ellara. I know you can."

Please, just let me die.

I can't stand the pain anymore.

Let me go.

Stop this cruelty.

It hurts. I can't take this.

Please. Just end it.

"Be strong. It's almost off of you."

Moment by moment, I cling to life. Cling to sanity.

Bit by bit, the pain begins to recede.

The Mist stops hunting me.

Some light enters my world.

And then sound.

Running water falling and crashing against stone. But, not a waterfall. More like a thousand droplets. Falling and crashing. Hissing. The sounds echo in an enclosed space, amplified and all encompassing. Thick fragrant steam wafts against my face, sticky and moist. My throat hurts.

Parched, I lick my lips.

"Water," I wheeze.

Something warm, pliant, and soft presses against my mouth. Water flows in, and I swallow it greedily. Again and again, the water comes. Until I can't drink anymore. Until just the softness remains. My senses reel. It tastes like heaven - lingering, molding into heated breath, reaching inside, igniting a different sort of ache. I want to reach up and capture this familiar flame, but something holds my wrists in place - an unyielding yet controlled force.

"Ellara, wake up. Look at me."

I must obey.

When he calls me like that, I must.

And so, I open my eyes.

First, I see a man's large bare feet. My stinging eyes follow long legs covered in black dress pants. Up and up, until I find muscular corded forearms. They lead to strong wrists and long-fingered warrior's hands. Large, but somehow graceful. Elegant. Beautiful.

One of these hands holds a soapy black washcloth. It smells earthy, like an herbal tincture. The man's legs rest against my hips, and his arms are wrapped around me. Not imprisoning. Not capturing. In this embrace, I feel safe. Protected. This is true even when I see that my wrists are held together before me, wrapped in a black and red Evol I've learned to recognize.

More sensations come. More realizations.

I'm naked as the day I was born. How odd. I don't remember what I was doing before this moment. I'm still confused, disoriented without a sense of time or place. Instead, I float between memories and scenery, between eras long past and things taking place far off in the future. I see faces, experience other lives. I try to understand where now is.

Where am I? Is this a dream? An illusion? I've died so many times now that I'm not afraid to face the void again.

It's just a shame...

A shame to leave him behind.

"If you'll regret leaving, then stay with me."

Yes. That's logical isn't it? I don't want to leave, so I'll just stay here in his arms.

Finally, I feel the water cascading down my body. It's warm and pleasant. Steam surrounds me. I'm sitting on a tile floor. With most of the pain gone, the tension leaves my body. I sag against the man behind me.

"Ellara, can you hear me?" a sublime voice inquires, rumbling against my ear.

"Yes," I whisper.

One of his hands slides from my arm up to my chest and neck, guiding my head until it tilts back. I take a deep, ragged breath. Red eyes consume me. Focused. Intense. As though the owner could see right into my very soul.

"Sylus?" I gasp.

He blinks. Frowns. "Talk to me," he says. "Where is the pain now?"

I try to move my body around. "My shoulder," I mumble. "My head." I lick my lips again. "Thirsty..."

He brings a narrow pitcher to my lips and tilts it back. "Slowly," he says.

I take a few sips then lean back against him, my strength spent. He shifts and moves, sliding his arms under my legs and shoulders. In a single motion, he lifts me and stands. I tug at his Evol, still wrapped around my wrists.

"Sylus, please let my arms go."

His gaze finds me again. "Not until I'm sure the toxin is out of you."

I'm too exhausted to argue. Instead, I try to look around. I don't recognize this bathroom at all.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. For now, that's all you need to worry about." He shoulders open a glass door and steps out of a marble shower stall.

"Where are you taking me?" I murmur, leaning my head against his shoulder. I'm starting to feel sleepy again.

Sylus doesn't answer any more of my questions. Moving slowly so he doesn't jostle me, he brings me to an adjoining room with what looks like an enormous bath tub. There's a control panel next to it with a plethora of different buttons that glow different colors. Atop it sits a long glass case, and within floats what looks like an emerald Protocore. The water is the same color, illuminated with gentle lighting under each jet. Recognition flares, but it's brief. Before I can identify what the bath tub is, the memory slips away from me.

I'm silent as he lowers me into the churning green water. Resting my head against the back of the tub, I examine Sylus. His clothes are sopping wet, and water drips from his silver hair. Aside from his dress pants, he's still wearing his trademark black and red shirt. What disturbs me is all the blood staining the fabric. Suddenly worried, I reach a shaking hand out to him.

"You're hurt," I croak out. "How did you get injured?"

He takes my hand into his, threading his fingers with mine just the way I like.

"It's not my blood," he says without a hint of emotion.

I struggle to remember what came before I awoke in the shower with him. "Were we...fighting? Was I wounded?"

Still frowning, he urges me to turn my head to the side.

"What are you doing?"

He examines something on my head for a minute then releases me. Our eyes meet again.

"You were shot," he says. "I dug out the bullets."

With a wave of his hand, he releases the Evol around my wrists. My hand comes up to feel my shoulder, the source of the sharpest discomfort. I gasp when I feel thick stitching sticking out against my skin. Then the pain knifes into me, and I cry out. Sylus curses and snags my hand, yanking it back.

"Don't touch it," he warns. "Lie still. You need a few more hours in the water to heal." He scratches the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncertain. "Stitching a wound isn't something I have practice with. It will probably scar."

"How long have I been here?"

"About twenty six hours now."

I hold my breath. "You've...you've been here with me that long?"

"If I wasn't with you, you would have died." He pauses, as though hesitating. "The toxin nearly killed you."

"LUMINIS," I say, suddenly remembering. "There's no antidote, and we can't get one unless we can get a sample." Memories start rushing back. "That's why we went there with Xavier. To find one."

I suddenly gasp. "Xavier! I need to contact him right away."

"Not yet," Sylus says. His hand pushes against my chest to make sure I don't try to stand up, and suddenly my thoughts scatter.

Oh, Lord.

I'm naked.

The realization successfully shuts me up. My ears burn.

"Stay in the water," Sylus says. "After your wounds are sterilized, you can do as you please." He smirks. "Within reasonable limits."

The man in front of me has never been reasonable. In fact, I'm pretty sure the word can't be used in conjunction with his existence. I'm worried that Xavier doesn't know where I am. I can't remember how everything ended, but he has a tendency to be overprotective. Though no one would ever know it, he worries. Just imagining how concerned he must be right now puts me on edge. I want to reach out to him immediately.

While I'm pondering all this, Sylus stands up and begins stripping out of his wet clothes. My thought process comes to a halt when he peels off his shirt, revealing a body the Gods would envy. My breath catches, and my mouth goes dry. As though sensing my regard, Sylus turns his head to me and smiles.

"What is it?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

"Can I have some clothes?"

"After your bath," he says, stepping into a nearby closet. When he comes back out, he's wearing dry black sweatpants and matching tank. A white towel hangs around his bare shoulders. While drying the back of his hair, he pads over to the tub and sits down on the floor, joining our hands again. I bite my lower lip when he kisses the inside of my wrist. His thumb begins to stroke my hand.

"Thank you, Sylus," I say, my cheeks hot.

"What exactly for?" he smirks.

"Saving my life." I want to say more. Much much more. But, my vision starts to go blurry. "How did you know...about Noxis? Were you planning to go to that club the whole time?"

Sylus chuckles. "Barely got one foot out of the grave and already back to Hunter mode?" He squeezes my hand. "I'll answer your questions when you're better. For now, just relax."

"There's no time," I protest. "We can't let anyone else be exposed to LUMINIS."

I shrink back when Sylus leans closer. I recognize the twinkle in his eyes, and my heart flutters.

"Should I climb in there with you?" he teases. "Will that help you relax?"

Somehow, I doubt it.

My gaze rolls from his eyes to his lips. He runs his index finger against my mouth.

"I said relax, sweetie, not tempt me."

"...not trying to."

"Go to sleep." His features soften. The churning water massages all my sore muscles, tugging me into a trance. Soon, I feel like I'm going to drift off. My eyes close, and I feel a warm hand press against my cheek.

"Rest now," he says.

His voice follows me into the dark.

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From the moment Xavier's one way earpiece explodes with the sounds of gunfire and battle, his mind and body hones in on a singular goal: get back to the Mythe and help his partner. He drops off Tara at the hospital as promised, but he doesn't have the luxury of explaining anything. He rushes back outside to the EV charging stations where he parked his 270HM. The bike roars to life as he scans his executive ID card.

The gunfire in his ears stops. The earpiece goes silent.

Xavier pushes the gleaming black and white bike to its limits, setting off alarm after alarm. It flies over the smooth highway at a speed most operators couldn't comprehend. Lights and other vehicles blur together as he soars past them, weaving in and out between other cars and trucks moving along the road. The average Hunter would need months of specialized training to handle half this speed, but to Xavier even this feels much too slow.

Like a bullet, he shoots through the frozen night air. His clothes are too delicate for this sort of endeavor, and soon ice begins to build up on his knees, gloves, and shoulders. He can't feel it; the only ice he can sense now is the dread growing in his heart. The guilt. The frustration. He should never have left Ellara alone in such a dangerous place.

The computer shrieks warnings about high speeds and demands for him to slow down, but he is past listening. He overrides the console when it tries to slow him down by force. It's highly illegal, and he will likely face a reprimand. But, Ellara's life hangs in the balance, and he doesn't care how many laws he breaks if it means he can protect her.

He slides to a stop in the falling snow in the Mythe's driveway just as the explosions start. The first one sends his bike lurching sideways. Xavier jumps to take cover behind a rock formation as deafening blasts rend the air. Shockwaves rip through the area. Trees shake. The ground quakes and shudders. He has to look away from the blinding light to avoid it damaging his eyes, recognizing the shape and coloration of the explosions.

If he had to guess based on past experience, he would have pointed a finger at Onychinus and the unique "hightowers" they use for their explosions. Though this isn't N109, he doesn't put it past them to take the opportunity to carve out their rivals. And no wonder. With LUMINIS gaining traction and popularity, Noxis is rising too high too fast; they're operating as cutting edge competition.

Gritting his teeth as he pushes back his fear for Ellara, he abandons his bike and runs to the keening building. Just the thought of her being trapped inside steals his breath. She must have gotten out. Surely, she already made it through the emergency exit like they'd planned.

Closer to the Mythe, it's hell.

A burning, blazing, hellfire.

People scream as they pour out of the Mythe in a violent stampede. Most maim and injure each other in their desperation to reach safety. No matter who it is, humans all fall into their base instincts when their lives are at stake. They knew what they were getting into when attending this event, and Xavier doesn't give them a second thought. Even knowing it's too late, he draws his blade and picks his way around the flames and falling debris to the back of the nightclub.

The veranda is in shambles. Ripped up wires and broken glass bulbs hang from a cracked and ravaged pergola. Bodies litter the burning wood. Snow and blood mixes together and melts from the heat, pouring between the cracks in a sickening river of red. Bullet shells coat the ground, and a familiar smell cuts through the smoke and melting plastic to waft to his nose.

LUMINIS.

A lot of it.

Xavier's hand grips his blade so hard that his palm grows numb.

Above, he hears the tumultuous cry of a murder of crows.

He searches through the death and destruction, his chest tight, not even wanting to consider that he'll find her body among the dead.

She's stronger than that.

She'd defied bigger odds.

The crows circle above him as he flips over every corpse. Searches above and below the veranda. Examines the riverbank. Searches and searches until he realizes his hands are shaking.

He'd left her.

Everything in his gut had been screaming for him not to leave her this night.

And yet, he had.

One large crow - larger than any he's seen before - settles on a nearby tree branch and stares at him with gleaming red eyes.

...shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............

Xavier straightens when his earpiece hisses with static. Holding his breath, he presses it closer against his ear, realizing that he can hear voices cutting in and out.

And then the screaming starts.

Her screaming.

And it is the most horrible sound he's ever heard.

She's in pain. Indescribable pain.

And there is nothing he can do to stop it.

His mind and body shut down. He closes off every single thought, pressing the earpiece even closer, hoping to hear any kind of clue as to where Ellara is now.

More voices overlay the screams.

Get her in the water!

Too much...bleeding won't stop...

...shit got all over her...call the Boss...

...not gonna make it...

The screams don't stop. Xavier sits beside the riverbank for what seems like hours, listening to her scream, his hands still shaking. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the sound. For as long as he lives, he will remember this moment.

And then something changes. Another voice crackles across the mic - stone cold and low.

...I've got you...Ellara, I'm here now...

The sudden sound of running water makes everything much harder to hear.

...endure this...know you can...

Chaotic sounds and motions. The screaming starts to die down into weak cries of suffering.

...Sy...lus...

Ellara says the name like a prayer.

...Sy...lus...kill me...kill me...it hurts...

...not going anywhere...you can endure this...

And then silence. No more sound. No more screaming. Sylus. Sylus. Not many people with such a name. Could it be the leader of Onychinus? Impossible. Or perhaps not. Improbable, yes, but rumors had been circulating that Sylus had returned. And if such a man knew of the Aether core in Ellara's heart, she might have caught his interest.

Xavier begins to walk in an aimless direction, instinct moving his body more than his mind. Everything feels numb now, and the only thing he can register is that she's alive. She's alive. As long as she's alive, he can find her. As long as her heart is beating, he will bring her back. No matter who is with her now. Even if it is the King of the Underworld.

As he walks, the crow follows. It stares at him, unnaturally still. It's eyes watch every one of his movements, but it's not the crow watching - it's someone watching through it. A suspicion begins to form. He turns to the animal and sends blades of light flying towards it. Faster than any bird could be, it dodges them and flies away.

Two days pass in a blur. Two long and agonizing days. The first twenty four hours after the explosion are torture. He picks at the earpiece in his ear, afraid to remove it, afraid to part with it in case he hears another clue of Ellara's whereabouts. Every crackle, every bit of static, every tiny noise makes him jump.

The second day, UNICORNS files her as a Hunter missing in action. Plans are made to search for her through larger channels. Still silence from the earpiece. As though she really is dead. Anger, torment, guilt, sorrow - the hurricane threatens to swallow him whole. He can't sleep. Can't eat. Nothing can stop the sensation of something clawing at his chest.

And then, on the third night, his Hunter's watch rings out with an unfamiliar tone.

Sitting in the darkness of his apartment, he lifts his head to look at it.

Number unknown. Will you accept this message?

Hardly daring to breathe, Xavier clicks to receive the data.

Numbers flash up on the holo screen.

Coordinates.

Some words below.

Pick up in two days at midnight. Come alone. Deviate, and never see her again.

[saetiate]

⸺  ཐིཋྀ selfship info ⤷ tag: #fragments of memories: selfship ⤷ cora’s face/self insert

SAE. ⤷ friends to lovers, 5 years + engagement ⤷ moodboard ⤷ full timeline here with all fics related to us linked ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: sae

BLADE. ⤷ moodboard ⤷ cora and blade have been together for three lifetimes <3 ⤷ full timeine here with all fics related to us linked ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: blade

KAISER. ⤷ in relearning love. ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: kaiser

CALEB. ⤷ popular guy x weird girl dynamic | more info about dynamic ⤷ moodboard and info ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: caleb

ཐིཋྀ other selfships ⤷ jing yuan, umemiya, alhaitham, zayne, sylus, itachi ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: rin ⤷ tag: #submerge and awaken: aiku

ཐིཋྀ past selfships ⤷ LEVI, NEUVILLETTE (moodboard, tag: #submerge and awaken: neuvi)

ཐིཋྀ info ⤷ everything i write for my selfships are x reader inclusive! so that my content can be enjoyed by everyone. sometimes reader may have a personality. you can self insert into my selfship stuff :> ⤷ i don't mind if you have the same selfships as me!! i actually love it!! please feel free to comment / send me an ask about my selfships or talk about yours with me!! ⤷ i have a lot of selfships lol but my main ones are basically sae + blade in that order!!!

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Taerfleg

Another obvious one this week, but it seems people are having fun with it. Nothing else for me to add right here, I think, so I'll get right into it. If you're confused by what this is, go check out https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

And if you want to see the entry people are working from this week, it's here:

Art below in rough chronological order:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) started with the concept of a sea urchin, but decided a face might make it more charismatic. It is a very cute face; I like its vibes a lot. Turning a sea urchin into what appears to be at least a semi-terrestrial creature brings up some interesting etymological stuff also, but we'll get into that at the end of the post. Those tube-like appendages there are an interpretation of the business about "ventilation ducts" in the post -- Silverhart acknowledges that it probably refers to the Taerfleg's nest/burrow/whatever, but that they decided to go this direction instead. The linked post explains that these are breathing tubes the Taerfleg can use when it's submerged in mud, which makes me think of this beast as a frog that's also kind of a stealth caltrop of sorts. Watch your step on those muddy banks.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) expresses that she doesn't have enough time this week to do something elaborate, but has sketched out this very good spiky bug. I like it a lot, actually -- it kind of looks like what you'd get if the Koopas from the Mario games were based on pill bugs instead of turtles. This one's got spines, so you can't jump on it. Probably rolls up into a very dangerous ball. Also, you know, everyone appreciates a good isopod. The design of the head is nice also -- there's something to the widely-spaced eyes and those two long appendages. (Feelers? Mandibles? Either way it's got a good outline I think.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has given us an interior view of the Taerfleg's burrow -- over on the right we can see a ventilation duct that's been blocked with some kind of plant matter. Their Taerfleg is a spiny lizard, with long limbs to help them remove the grapes from their spines after collecting them. Notable is the attention to detail -- the grape currently on the Taerfleg's back is a bit squashed from being rolled on. I think the lizard looks really cool -- that tail in particular is very well shaped -- and as often happens, I'm blown away by the amount of detailing CheapSweets is doing with a fountain pen. Also please note the babies over there on the left. For a detailed description of the design process, I highly recommend clicking the linked post.

(Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has again come through with a beautiful medievally-styled piece. These Taerfleg are spiders -- Coolest-capybara notes that "spiders with plant-based diets" and "spiders with spiny carapaces" are both real things, so a type of spider that fits both of those categories isn't out of the realm of possibility. When they're collecting grapes, they wrap them in little spider-silk harnesses, which is neat. I really like the web shown here: we've got a funnel structure, which is what the "ventilation" bit is talking about, and I think the decision to draw it with that kind of knotwork motif is really cool.

(Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) has taken this in what I can only describe as a delightfully whimsical direction: the spiky armor is artificial. Does the little rodent build these things itself? One must assume. This also explains the ventilation ducts -- they're openings in the little armored vehicle it rolls around in. We can see one covered by a curtain on the left there. It... doesn't look pleased that its armor has been opened. Poor little critter.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has decided to maintain the balance of their bestiaryposting here: last week it was obviously an ant, so they drew a mammal; this week it's obviously a [redacted], so they drew an insect. I think what I like most about this design (besides the fact that it's cute) is that the Taerfleg appears to be doing the dung-beetle rolling thing with that grape. From past experience reading Strixcattus's worldbuilding, I'm guessing that the "attach grapes to its spines" thing is a myth in-universe, and this is its more normal way of gathering grapes. Speaking of which, as usual, it's worth clicking that linked post and seeing the full, more naturalistic interpretation of the Taerfleg that Strixcattus has written.

All right, to the Aberdeen Bestiary:

Yes, so we all know these are hedgehogs, but were you expecting to get this whole scene? I bet not. Check out that very good Stylized Plant. If I were to get a Stylized Plant tattooed on myself (which I'm starting to consider, as this whole thing we're doing has shown me how much I'm delighted by them), this one would be high on my list.

The tiny hedgehogs are very cute, though I think the illustrator didn't keep track of how much space they had in the image, because the scale seems off -- the... grapes? on the hedgehogs' backs are maybe half the size of the ones on the plant. It's like the bottom of the image was compressed.

The thing with the hedgehog using its spines to carry food is all over medieval texts and marginalia, by the way. This was apparently widely believed; I'm pretty sure it is not in fact the case, but Pliny the Elder was certain it was, so you know. Who's to say.

Now, let's talk ✨etymology✨.

So the entry lists the beast as having two names: ericius and echinus. (From my cursory look into it, this is a case of Latin borrowing from Greek: ericius is the Latin for "hedgehog", whereas echinus is the Latinization of the Greek word.) The translation dutifully translates them both, into two different English terms.

The first is of course "hedgehog" -- but that's a fairly recent word, actually. The earliest attestation is at the tail end of the medieval period.

The second is the actual etymological descendant of ericius. Latin ericius became Old French herichon, and after the Normans conquered England that made its way into the English language as hurcheon, which then over the centuries became... urchin.

This is what I meant about Silverhart taking a sea urchin and making it terrestrial being an interesting etymological move. The reason they're called "sea urchins" is because there was already a "land urchin": the hedgehog. They're one of those critters that was named after looking kind of like something on land, and it stuck. Most aquatic organisms whose names start with "sea" are a case of this. (Why do people sometimes say "sea anemone" instead of just "anemone"? Because "anemone" is also a type of flower; the creatures are named after the resemblance.)

It's one of those weird flukes that happens sometimes -- English decided to call the land animal something completely different (I think some dialects still use "urchin", but it isn't common) and the connection became less obvious. In a number of other languages, it's preserved; e.g. in Spanish, "hedgehog" is erizo -- also from ericius -- and "sea urchin" is erizo de mar. Boom, done, the etymology couldn't be more clear.

Incidentally, a weird side note: the Aberdeen Bestiary predates the first attestation of either hedgehog (1450) or urchin (1290). So the creators of this manuscript wouldn't have called them by either of the names we've just discussed, but a secret third option. Before the French loanword became standard, hedgehogs were called ile or igil in English -- cognate with German Igel. (Incidentally, in German a sea urchin is apparently Seeigel, so they also know what it's named after.)

Anyway, it's getting late. Enjoy the lovely art and the unnecessary infodump.