#maybe he is still too weak or young to manifest ghost powers

[nelkcats]

Not The Blood Son

Damian is not Bruce Wayne's biological son. A fact that no one was aware of, not even Talia herself.

This was because Ra found the DNA of a being related to the Lazarus pits, and was willing to make a clone for further study; However, he lost the sample. On the other hand, Talia, who was trying to created a kid of her and her beloved used the wrong sample.

Talia never realized this due to Damian's resemblance to Bruce. When Damian got to the mansion, Bruce take Talia's word for it, of course, she ran some blood tests but the computer started crashing at that point, showing the result to be 'similar'. He decided to do new tests later, but that result was enough at the time.

Everything Damian was proud of: his heritage, his own as the only blood son, his right to be "Batman", was gone as soon as his mother revealed the truth. His father, of course, said that he was still his son regardless of blood but Damian was not happy with that.

He was supposed to be different from his brothers, he was supposed to be Batman, but if he wasn't... who was he? What was his true purpose? what was the right path to choose?

Determined to find a new purpose, Damian decided to search for his biological father. Something in which his family offered him support. The problem was that the only information they had came from Ra and one of his former business associates. A certain "Plasmius", Damian's father had no other description beyond "Related to the Lazarus pits"

Danny Fenton, finally out of the hero life, and living with his "cousin" in Amity (and the Infinite Realms) had no idea how much was about to change his quiet retirement life.

[vidimillion]

Hc of jason and nico meeting pre HoO?

thank you for asking this. i hope you wanted something really long, because not only is this really long but it’s also only half coherent.

jason was freshly eleven when he met the ten-year-old nico di angelo. it was early in the morning when he'd heard a centurion of the third cohort mention a disturbance in the forest. it wasn't exactly eavesdropping, he swears. he was just passing by them, when he knew he should've been asleep.

years later, he didn't know why exactly he did it, but he supposed he was young. he wanted to prove himself.

or maybe more accurately, he wanted to break his unearned reputation of being a golden boy. what better way to do that then to do something he wasn't supposed to?

being the dumbass kid he was, he went out alone to the forest, bringing his sword and nothing else. he didn't know what to expect but when he saw a black mass in the forest, sucking up the light like death itself, he was expecting a monster.

then the mass turned around, eyes afraid and hands shaking as they gripped a long black sword. and jason saw that he was just a kid.

before jason could do anything, the boy turned away and disappeared into shadows. freaking out about whether or not he'd just seen a ghost, he ran into the barracks and told the first person he saw. whispers go around fast, and by that afternoon jason hears the theories of who he saw in the forest— a son of pluto.

jason convinces the senate not to send patrols to look for the boy. "You didn't see him, he looked so scared." he'd say. "A patrol would scare him away! I'll look for him myself, every day, I promise!"

he keeps the promise, even when the boy doesn't show up for weeks after that. he keeps it because he knows what it's like to be left confused and alone, forced to fight things you didn't know were real. and he knows it's normal, he knows that's just what happens to demigods, but it doesn't change how much he remembered wanting someone to save him.

he sees the boy again weeks later. and before the boy can run away again he yells after him, "We know what you are!"

the boy freezes, and it looks like jason made it even worse but at least he bought himself time. "No, I mean— you're a demigod right? I am too, we all are here."

jason smiles at him, "do you want me to show you in?"

(actual headcanons following)

jason decides this guy, who's name is nico di angelo, is his best friend now. before bringing him into camp, he felt weird about possibly having another child of the big three around. but when nico confirms the fact three days later, all jason feels is relief.

nico bunks next to jason in the fifth cohort but says he can't pick one to join. he says it's because he can't stay for long, and jason asks why but nico doesn't give him a straight answer. so instead, he takes nico shopping for bedsheets. jason wants to make sure the bunk nico's claimed as his stays his, even when he's gone.

the reputation they build for themselves is incredible. as the only kids of the big three in camp, they're powerful separated but unstoppable together. (this proves for fantastic entertainment when they spar, and a very tough fight for whoever they're going up against if they're a team.)

it's also a worthy mention that not only do they become more powerful when they're fighting together, when they're off the battlegrounds they also get a whole lot stupider. they've got wild spirits, and though they reign it in when they're on their own, they cause shitstorms of trouble when they're together.

(more under the cut)

nico's gone for weeks at a time but every time he comes back jason never gets less excited. he greets him when he arrives and waves him off when he leaves again. that becomes the norm soon— whenever nico's here, you can find jason right next to him.

the senate said nico couldn't stay unless he picked a cohort, and if he picked a cohort he couldn't leave. when he one day comes back with a report from pluto himself explaining why nico has to come and go sometimes, they find a way for him to stay. (they won't hesitate to admit the boy's grown on the community. they wouldn't wanna say goodbye to him either.) and thus, nico was freshly eleven when he's made the ambassador of pluto.

jason isn't allowed to leave camp jupiter, so sometimes nico sneaks him out with shadow travel. the first time they did it, jason actually puked because his twelve-year-old system is a little weak. it was worth it though, because nico bought him his first mcdonalds. jason doesn't think he could ever go back.

that's also how he found out that nico's dad gives him unlimited money to spend on whatever. he realizes nico has zero budgeting skills when he was nearly persuaded to buy a twenty dollar ice cream

when they were both thirteen years old, they were both officially allowed to go on minor quests. on the first one they take, it goes haywire but they meet a little puerto rican girl their age. after a little bit of explaining (and also a little bit of de-escalating, because wow this new demigod is good with a dagger), they find her name is reyna, and they take her back to camp jupiter

jason adopts her immediately, and thus so does nico, because they're a two-in-one deal. they become an iconic trio immediately— some people throw around rumours about love triangles between them, but none of them are ever the same. some say nico and jason argue over reyna's love, some say nico and reyna are fighting for jason's, some say jason and reyna are fighting for nico's.

reyna gets phantom crushes on both of them, mostly out of feeling like she needed to have a crush on them. they're the two people she loves most in the world, so it felt like proper procedure. it fades fast once she realizes they're very clearly in love with each other. she doesn't say anything about it, wanting them to realize on their own. she just hopes it's soon.

by the time nico comes back to camp with a curly-haired daughter of pluto, he's already told jason and reyna of who bianca was. he doesn't answer their looks of concerns for a long time. (but they fucking love hazel. new adoptee)

nico comes back from the war with kronos to be told jason lead the roman army and defeated krios by himself. he flips his shit.

(but he still congratulates jason on the praetorship by taking him on a small trip to gold coast, australia. after battling a monster in public, they appear in the news for allegedly fighting six feral red kangaroos in the street)

jason is diagnosed with ptsd soon after the war. nico finds that he can't bring himself to leave, not when he's one of the only people who know how to calm jason down from a panic attack. he can't leave him, not when jason has never left him.

one of the ways his ptsd manifests is through night terrors. and he doesn't want to ask for help. he's always telling people "there's no shame in asking for help" or "you can ask for help when you need it, we won't judge". yet he can't bring himself to follow his own advice. it's different for him, he often thinks. it's just different.

one day, he gets an especially bad one. it's so bad he almost can't breathe, and it takes him nearly two and a half hours until he's even able to move. when he can feel his legs again, he walks to nico's private quarters.

jason doesn't even have to say anything, and nico is pulling him inside and settling him in his white sheets. the same ones they bought together when they were little, relocated after they'd both moved from barrack bunks.

they don't say anything, but jason quietly asks if nico will hold him. there's something unreadable in his dark brown eyes, but he says yes with such certainty that jason knows he means it.

a few weeks later, jason wakes up in the back of a school bus, holding a pretty girl's hand but not knowing her name. the only thing he remembers is the name nico di angelo.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 21

<= Chapter 20

Summary : Snatcher learns that being younger doesn't bring many perks in a dangerous situation. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/72785430

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Hello people ! New chapter (although a bit shorter than usual, because my inspiration isn't easy to summon, these days... I hope it's still okay !)

Thank you so much for your likes and reblog, they mean so much to me !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 21 - “Don’t come any closer!”

Snatcher couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe- his eyes were fixed on the Queen’s, who was staring at him with curiosity and with confusion. But that wasn’t so surprising, especially given her unstable mind. After all, she had been chasing her dear Prince down… Only for him to disappear and leave his place to a kid that looked exactly the same as he did when he was younger.

Because, well, that was what had happened. Snatcher had broken the Time Piece, hoping to save the rest of his group… But only managing to turn his body to what it used to be hundreds of years ago, when he was just a young Prince being taught manners and how to become the perfect heir… It all went to waste in the end, when his bright future was shattered as he was locked up in a cellar, left to die.

And now, his murderer was standing right in front of him, crouched to his level, staring at him with great interest. Why… Why wasn’t she killing him? She hadn’t had any remorse to murder the hatted brat and Moonjumper, just like the entirety of Subcon Village centuries ago! So why was this time so different? What was the reason? She didn’t seem to notice he was, well, him, so…

-“Cat got your tongue?” she joked, smiling at him, her head tilted to the side. How could she smile when she had just killed two people, possibly three- no, she hadn’t had the time to kill the bow-wearing child. She had been too busy chasing him to do so. Nonetheless, the way she could just behave that way after everything she did… It made him livid.

How dared she?!

-“Don’t come any closer!” The now young Prince outstretched his arms in front of him as a threat. Under strong emotions, the former ghost’s powers had manifested much more than what he had first thought. Ice melted against fire… And he would not hesitate to use magic, not only to defend himself, but also to eliminate Vanessa once and for all, avenging all the people she had murdered. With how furious he was, it would be easy to summon at least enough flames to make her step back- however, all he could do was to summon two small flames on each forefinger.

What the…

His eyes widened, looking at his own hands, a mix of confusion and horror spreading inside him. Why…?! He had been able to summon them perfectly earlier, so why was this time so different! Was it because he had acted on instinct back then? What about now, wasn’t he currently acting on instinct? This couldn’t be it, this had to be something else, something that just made sense- And then, it hit him.

He was a kid again, frail, fragile… And around the same age as his old self when he had started to learn how to summon flames, when all he could do was summoning small, little fires out of his fingers. When he was…

Completely harmless, with no possibility of using his powers for his own survival.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he glanced back to Vanessa, scared of the way she might react, the flames dying down on his fingers. Fire magic had always been passed from one generation to another in his family. He himself had inherited it from his mother, and Vanessa knew this too, as her own lineage had been gifted with ice magic.

And now the latter had everything in front of her to recognize him, to see past his frail and childish appearance- this was over, now, wasn’t it? She was going to realize who he really was, that her “dear Prince” had never disappeared out of nowhere, that he had just gotten younger from a bad, very bad decision. What was she going to do…? Freeze him to death? Hurt him? Would she… Take him back to the cellar? His face paled at the thought and his limbs started shaking.

He couldn’t go back there, no, he couldn’t-

-“Oh…!” the Queen’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts and his breathing rhythm quickened in consequence: “Where… Where did you learn that?” she suddenly asked, confusion and suspicion written all over her ghostly face. At this moment, Snatcher knew she had caught on his fire magic… Yet, she hadn’t seemed to understand who he truly was… Yet.

He had to find something, quick! Considering the way she was staring at him, trying to determine who he was, this was his last and only chance to convince her he was just a normal kid. But, then again, would it be a good idea? The hatted brat had been a complete stranger to her, and she hadn’t even hesitated in freezing her to death…

At the thought of the little girl, Snatcher clenched his jaw. She hadn’t deserved to die like this… Sure, he had wanted her dead for so long, but… Not like this! Not by Vanessa’s hand.

Did his attempt with the Time Piece even worked…? Or was his age the only thing that had changed…? He couldn’t know. And if it did work, then… Then he would need to buy some time. For now, this was all he could do. Thus, the little boy straightened up and forced himself to keep a neutral expression, swallowing his fear back. This was his only chance, he couldn’t mess up…!

-“I… I learnt that all by myself,” he answered, doing his best to sound confident.

This was not successful, as his voice broke near the end, something he tried to hide with a cough. Fortunately for him, Vanessa apparently didn’t notice it, tilting her head more as she listened to his answer.

-“… You look like him so much,” was what she replied, her voice full of nostalgia… And suspicion. She was on the verge of finding out who he was, who he really was… And perhaps the reason she still hadn’t figured it out was because of her mental instability. He had to use this!

-“L-like who?” he stammered, yet frowned, trying to look confused himself. However, this wasn’t so easy to fake an emotion while facing his own murderer. Then again, it would all depend on Vanessa’s unstable mind. It was so frustrating to put his own life and possibly his team’s on the line, just to hope the Queen would believe his lies.

Well, she hadn’t believed him when he had told her the truth, centuries ago… Maybe, now, she would see his lies as truth?

-“No one,” Vanessa lied and shook her head, looking a bit more… Relaxed, her eyes staring into space, and Snatcher wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. Well, at least, she hadn’t killed him yet, so it was most likely the latter, so far…

The former ghost took advantage of her brief inattention to crawl away through the deep snow, hoping she wouldn’t see him or wouldn’t catch the movement in the corner of her vision- but she did. When her red eyes glanced back at him, his entire body froze.

-“Tell me, little one,” she smiled at him again, and Snatcher couldn’t help but shiver at the sight- he was not reassured in the least: “Why don’t you come home with me?” she offered, suddenly much more joyful than before. She clasped her hands together, her thin and long clawed fingers intertwining with one another… Gods, this was a terrifying sight, and her intonation didn’t help either.

-“H-home…?” repeated the former shade, not only taken aback but also shocked by the offer. Oh, this was bad, very, very bad… The mere thought of going back to that cursed place was enough to get him to tremble even more, terrible and traumatizing memories coming back to haunt him. If he followed her there… He was sure he wouldn’t come out of it unscathed.

… If he even survived in that last case, that was.

The child shook his head, faking a smile on his face, though it looked nothing like one. Instead, it just looked like a nervous grin, one that was all but genuine. He couldn’t go there, no, he couldn’t…!

-“N…No, thanks,” he refused politely, his body moving on its own again as Snatcher started to crawl back once more. The snow was crackling at each of his movement, the sound seeming louder than it really was, under the thick tension in the air. However… Before he was able to do anything else, the Queen threw herself forward, quickly grabbing his left wrist with an unnatural speed. Yet, what stroke him the most was how cold her grip was. Snatcher felt like he was directly touching some ice- no, it was even colder than that.

In any case, it made him stop immediately, his wide eyes staring into the monster his fiance had become. His face was now deadly pale: what would she do to him…? Was she going to kill him on the spot…? Vanessa’s grip was strong- too strong, and for a moment, the former ghost felt his weak bones crack a bit under the pressure. Her face was… Different than before, more severe, more… Irritated. It didn’t take much more for him to wince and let out a whine both of pain and fear, clear indications of his suffering… It was only there that the Queen’s grip loosened a bit, changing into motherlike caresses on the back of his left hand.

Snatcher’s heart was pounding in his chest, the beating of his own heart echoing in his ears, his breath getting quicker and quicker… His eyes kept flickering between hers and his hand, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and break his wrist in the end. Yet, she just kept rubbing his skin… As a new, terrifying smile crept its way on her lips, her fangs now visible more than ever before.

This sight was absolutely terrifying for Snatcher- and for a reason he couldn’t quite place yet, he felt tears filling his eyes, without being able to control them. What was happening to him…? Vanessa noticed them at the same time and approached her free hand to his face, wiping his tears off his eyes. Of course, having such dangerous, long, clawed fingers near his eyes was something Snatcher wanted to avoid at all cost… It wasn’t like he could do anything other than closing his eyes, a pitiful whine escaping his lips.

Snatcher was… Terrorized, unable to do anything but just staying still and wait.

-“There, there,” Vanessa tried to soothe him, though it was more than unsuccessful, for very obvious reasons: “It’s okay, don’t worry… Come with me, it’s dangerous out there. I could bake you some cookies! Would you like that?”

The former shade’s eyes widened once more as he heard her words, her offer. It wasn’t one, he knew that. She wasn’t asking him to come, no… This was nothing but an order, a polite one, but also one that he had no other choice but to follow. Oh, sure, he was already imagining lots and lots of scenarios where he would run away, trying to flee… But he knew very well that Vanessa would be quick to catch him again. And after that? It would only depend on how annoyed she would become because of his actions… However, he was almost certain this wouldn’t just result in a little slap on his hand.

He had been shackled for so long in a cellar just for talking to a woman he didn’t even know that much. How would she even react with him trying to run away? He was too scared to try… And this body, this small and even more fragile one, seemed to lack the strength and courage to even think of running away.

Had his mind become… Younger too, somehow…? He didn’t want to think about it, and even if he did… This really wasn’t the time for it.

Before he was able to answer, the Queen pulled him back up with a strength that was unexpected coming from her. She never let go of his hand, on the contrary: her grip had become tighter as if she had guessed Snatcher’s plans of escaping.

-“Now, now,” she told him with a tone that was too nice to be true: “It’s unpolite to refuse a lady’s offer, you know? It’s okay, though,” she continued, before a voice changed to something more… Dangerous.

-“You look like a nice child. Teaching you manners doesn’t seem impossible…”

The Queen pulled him closer again as she started to walk, walk towards a place he knew all too well. The former shade tried to resist, tried to get his hand back, wanted nothing more than just to run away and never look back- but he knew he couldn’t. First, he was aware Vanessa wouldn’t let him do anything… And he had still something left to do.

Avenge his counterpart and the hatted brat. No, he would not let Vanessa go away with this…

-“Come on,” she urged him, still pulling him forward, ignoring his attempts at getting free: “A man shouldn’t make a lady wait~!”

Snatcher had no other choice but to follow, already fearing for what was to come. What would happen to him…? To the bow-wearing kid, still trapped in her ice prison…? The little boy knew she was clever and find a way to escape- that was, unless the blizzard killed her first. Unfortunately… Vanessa seemed more than determined to prevent him from saving his ex-contractor.

Snatcher was scared, no, he was terrified… He knew he had all the reasons to be.

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Thank you for your support, it means so much to me ! See you on the next chapter !

=> Chapter 22

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 10 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

10. Aftermath

"So… What do you think he is?" Tucker asked her as they made their way to the kitchen to grab some lunch. It was about noon, and since Danny was still not awake -or showed any signs of waking, he had decided to put food on the top of his priority list. "Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful Danny went all glowy and beat that thing, but something that weird… And you got to admit, it was pretty weird…. Couldn't have come from a human."

"'Glowy'?" Sam asked while trying not to laugh. Oddly enough, it did help to lighten her bad mood brought on by exhaustion, fear, and paranoia. After Danny had somehow magically transported them back to her front yard and passed out, she and Tucker managed to sneak back into her house while carrying him and make it into her room undetected by her parents. Tiring as that and the chase from earlier was she was unable to convince herself they were safe and began constantly checking the window for any signs of the creature. Needless to say, by morning, she hadn't been able to fall asleep.

He just shrugged as he opened the large kitchen door and allowed Sam to pass through first. "I don't know what else to call it. I guess 'luminous' could work, but it doesn't really fit either."

"And 'glowy' does?"

"Probably not, but at least it's specific."

Though she would never admit it out loud, he did have a point. When Danny had taken a stand against the monster, ghost… whatever it actually was, it almost looked as if tendrils of greenish-white energy was wrapping around him. As it became more noticeable, it gave his body the illusion it was actually glowing. Even more startling was the change in his eyes and hair color. His eyes changed to a toxic shade of green which shouldn't exist in this world, and his hair had become a brilliant shade of white with a silvery sheen. After Danny had passed out, the white color seemed to seep out, leaving behind his naturally black hair after a couple minutes. Hopefully his eyes had returned to their natural color too.

"Anyway… what do you think we should take up to Danny?" By the time he spoke, Tucker had already started putting together a rather impressive lunch meat and mayo sandwich on one of the white marble counters. While Sam could not even look at the growing monstrosity, she was impressed by the knowledge he had of her kitchen. He had been over way too many times.

She thought for a moment as she searched one of the polished mahogany cabinets for some supplies of her own. "Well… probably bland foods like toast or rice would be best. Since he tends to get sick after anything weird happens to him, those are the only types of food that shouldn't cause any problems…"

"I didn't… even think about that…" he replied between chews, much to Sam's dismay. "Whatever that power… or weirdness is, it really seems to do a number on him."

"Yeah… and let's just hope it doesn't kill him in the process."

This particular episode had been particularly bad for Danny. Before carrying him into the house, she had checked his vital signs only to find no sign of life. His pulse was nonexistent, his breathing had ceased, and his body was freezing to the touch. Both of them had begun to panic and tried to remember what they could of CPR. Luckily for Tucker -what was it with guys and CPR? - Danny let out a shaky breath even before they got a chance to start.

Unsure what to make of the situation, they just stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment before deciding to take the seemingly unconscious and not dead boy into the house. If it was any other person, she would have called an ambulance without a second thought, but there was no way such strange events could be explained or probably even treated by a doctor. Besides, if he seemed fine now, it was unlikely a doctor would be able to do anything. Originally, they decided whoever woke up first would make sure Danny was still among the living, but with her being unable to sleep she checked on him regularly. His breathing and pulse seemingly remained steady, but his body, though a little warmer, still remained very cool to the touch; Combined with his naturally pale skin kept causing her to compare him to a cadaver.

An awkward tension filled the air for a moment while they made their lunches. Unnerved, Sam was about to say something, but a strange look from Tucker stopped her. "What's wrong?"

"Sam… this might sound weird, but what if that's the point? What if this power that's taken hold of him really is going to kill him?" he asked as he put his sandwich down and looked her in the eyes. "Didn't Danny say something before about how the ghost you two saw in the cemetery said that he didn't belong to this world? And didn't it also suggest he didn't have a lot of time left? And didn't that thing that chased us last night call him 'Ghost Child'…. I don't know about you, but it just seems like, if you think about it, everything's suggesting he's going to die."

"Tucker, how can you say something like that?" she snapped while trying to prevent any emotion, save for anger, from crossing her face. During her vigil, similar thoughts had crossed her mind, but she tried to completely ignore them. She had noticed Danny always seemed drained and weak after the power manifested, almost as if his 'energy or' life was its power source. It seemed quite possible it could kill him if it continued, but the cryptic hints they kept getting suggested maybe that was what the power needed.

No! She wasn't going to think like that! Nothing as horrible as that was going to happen to Danny. They were going to somehow figure out how to help him, and she didn't need such terrible thoughts floating around her mind. She cringed as she once again tried to suppress them. Having the idea be said aloud seemed to somehow confirm it, even with absolutely no proof. "Let's just focus on finishing so we can get back to Danny. I wonder if he's awake yet…"

"If you say so… but before we do that, can you please explain why your toaster's floating?"

Sam had to chuckle as she watched Tucker begin to panic and quickly put space between him and unassuming yet levitating toaster. Glancing at it to make sure it was actually plugged in and in use; she shrugged and moved over to retrieve its contents. "It's from Denmark. This usually happens."

"Wait… what?"

….

Surprisingly, when they returned to Sam's room, Danny was awake and sitting up on the deep purple bed. He looked terrible. His blue eyes were dull, and the dark rings under them attested to just how tired he really was. His body was also incredibly sore and stiff, but nothing more seemed to be wrong with him. Sam couldn't help but be relieved. As she watched him thankfully accept the tray of food, it seemed as if there would be no lasting problems from the night's events.

After finishing his light meal, Danny hesitantly asked what happened the previous night. Unsure where to start, she looked to Tucker for some help, and within a few minutes, the combined effort of the two got him up to speed. He accepted it silently, though Sam did notice he kept looking down at his hands. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure they still looked the same. It unnerved her slightly, but she tried to push it aside as she suggested a good break from all the weirdness would be a monster movie marathon. Both Danny and Tucker gave her looks suggesting they questioned her sanity, but after a few minutes of persuasion and a mention of the room sized television in the entertainment room, they happily changed their minds.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was official. The best way to recover from a mysterious paranormal fight was to sit and watch movies in Sam's gigantic theater. Not only did Danny get to relax in some of the most comfortable chairs he had ever encountered, but the ability to laugh with his friends as they poked fun at the terrible effects further alleviated the stress weighing down on him. Surprisingly, they were able to get through three movies without being interrupted.

After glancing at fancy clock hanging from the wall, he realized it was almost dinner time. "Hey, I should probably be getting home soon. Knowing Winston, he'll be getting worried."

"Do you think you're up to walking home?" Sam asked as she gave him an appraising glance. "You're welcome to stay another night."

A chuckle escaped him as he thought about her parents' reactions to the suggestion. Although he had only briefly met them, something told him the couple was already not too fond of him. "I think I can handle it." That was an obvious lie. His body still felt as if he had been put inside of an industrial dryer on spin mode, but how else was he going to get home? He didn't want to impose on Sam, Winston would start asking questions, and he certainly didn't have the money to call a taxi. "Besides, the walking might help with the stiffness."

"Or it could make it worse. Seriously dude, you should be taking it as easy as you can. Kicking some serious butt can be really tiring." Tucker's tone was playful and encouraging, but Danny knew he was trying to hide his own concerns about the strange event. Judging by how Sam and Tucker were acting when they entered the room after he woke up, the two most likely had a serious conversation about what happened. Though they tried to make him feel as if nothing was wrong, he could sense their worry.

He was about to start arguing but Sam quickly cut him off. "If you really think you should leave, at least I can do is to have my driver give you a ride home. I mean, you did save our lives."

"Thanks… but are you sure..? Wait, you have your own driver?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

Sam fidgeted for a moment before answering. "Well, he's technically one of the drivers for my family, but I'm on better terms with him than my parents…. So, he's kinda unofficially mine."

"There's more than one…? Never mind." He cut himself off after a moment. "I don't want to know the specifics." The lives of the rich were hard to comprehend.

…..

After about a half an hour, the three of them were in the back of a stretch limo complete with its own mini bar stocked with several foreign drinks. Neither Sam nor Tucker actually needed to come, but they refused to let him go home alone. Danny just figured it was their way of showing concern. Though he didn't really need it, he didn't mind as their presence made the short ride more enjoyable.

When he arrived home, he was expecting a quite scene. Winston's silver Chevy would be sitting in the driveway, and while Winston himself would either be tending his modest garden or doing some paperwork in the study. But, instead of normalcy, chaos greeted him.

Yellow police tape had been placed around the perimeter of the yard and across the open front door. Several police cars were sitting, not only in front of the house, but also in his and the neighbor's driveway. A few officers were standing in the yard talking to each other while wearing serious expressions. Another was entering the house along with a couple people in white uniforms. Before the limo could even come to a stop, Danny jumped out of it and ran to the house, only to be stopped by some of the officers.

"I'm Danny, Winston's charge," he nearly shouted after one of the officers grabbed him while trying to explain he could not enter a crime scene. "What happened? Where's Winston? Does he know? Is he alright?"

"Wait, you're Wolf's kid?" another office asked as he approached. "We put out an alert saying you were missing. So you weren't in the house last night?"

"No, I…"

"Excuse me, Sir," Sam interrupted as she and Tucker ran over. "Danny was with us last night. He was staying over my house."

"He's not in trouble, is he?" There was a noticeable shiver within Tucker's voice, but he was doing his best not to show any other sign of nervousness. "Because we can totally vouch for him! We were with him for most of the day yesterday."

The officer held up his hand as a signal to let him talk. A trouble look crossed his face as he removed his hat and ran his free hand through his graying hair. After collecting himself, he held his hand out for Danny to shake. "I wish we could have met under friendlier circumstances, but I'm Sergeant Ross. We were called to your house after one of your neighbors called in some concerns about the safety of your dad. They thought they had heard gun shots last night but shrugged it off until they realized they never saw him leave the house today. We even received a confirmation from his work that he never arrived."

Danny bit his lip as he listened quietly. Winston almost never missed work, even if he was very sick. So, knowing that, something had to have gone seriously wrong, and Danny wasn't exactly sure if he was ready to find out what.

"I hate to say it, but it was a good thing we did decided to check on him," Ross continued as he looked him in the eye. "Your dad's currently in J. Marley Central Hospital and is being treated for several severe injuries from… what we think was a home invasion."

"No... That's impossible…" Danny stuttered after a few confused moments. "Winston's an ex-marine… He would have fought back. No one could have done that much damage…"

"Son, take it easy. This isn't the time for this…"

"You don't understand! Winston can take care of himself! There's a gun under his mattress for goodness' sake! He's always been prepared for something like this to happen! Some lame burglar couldn't have put him in the hospital!"

"Wait… did you say that Wolf owned a gun?" Ross asked carefully. "What kind was it?"

"I'm not exactly sure…. It's not like I saw it every day or anything," he replied gruffly as he tried to keep his feelings quelled long enough to try and answer the question. It wasn't like the officer had anything to do with Winston being hurt, but he certainly didn't want to be answering any questions. "I know it's some type of hand gun…. Maybe it's a .28… The box of bullets was sitting in the shelf on the study."

A concerned expression crossed the Sergeant's face as he called over to another officer. "Have any of the men found a firearm in or around the premises?" When the man shook his head, Ross' expression became grim. He then told the man to grab a couple of the other officers and search the area again, as well as finding a record of Winston's gun registration. After the other officer left, Ross turned back to Danny. "Well, I can't say I'm pleased by this new information… But I'm glad you mentioned it." He gave the boy a searching look before he spoke again. "I'm going to need to take you down to the precinct so you can give your official statement and maybe answer a few questions. Then we're going to need to go through your house and see if anything has been stolen."

"Wait… now?" Danny half demanded, half choked. "You're not going to let me see Winston first?"

"He's in the hospital…"

"You told me that, but you haven't told me anything else!" He had to fight to keep his voice and hands under control. Something in the back of his mind told him the officer would not appreciate it if he started waving his hands around while he was agitated. "Winston's all I have! I need to see for myself just how bad it is. I'll answer any question you have afterwards, but please, please let me see him first!"

"I can't let you do that."

"Why? Wait… I know what's going on… You think I did this." His eyes narrowed as he pointed at the officer. "I can't believe you! You're supposed to be trying to find whoever did this to Winston! Instead, you're wasting your time looking at me. I wasn't even home last night!" He took a breath to try and calm down for a moment as Tucker put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. With each breath, he could feel himself shaking in rage. "If anything, you should be looking at that Masters guy…"

It was the officer's turn to be suspicious. "…You don't mean Vlad Masters, do you?"

"I think so… He and Winston don't seem to get along…"

"And don't forget! He's the one who snuck into your house that one day!" Tucker added as he gave a shudder. "That's the day we heard Mr. Wolf yelling. No offense dude, but he's really frightening when he's mad."

"Tell me about it…"

"Back up a minute," the officer interrupted while rubbing his eyes. "You're telling me, Vlad Masters broke into your house. What business does someone like him have in your house?"

Could this officer be any more irritating? Danny had to bite back a sarcastic reply as he answered the officer. "He said he was checking up on Winston since he had to reschedule a meeting… with I guess one of his assistants. According to him, our front door was open, and he went inside to make sure everything was okay." As the officer wrote down something on a little tablet that was pulled out of his pocket, Danny decided he had enough. "Look! I'll answer any of your questions later, but I'm not doing anything else until I get to see Winston!"

….

After a twenty minute standoff, Danny finally got his way. An irritated Sergeant Ross had escorted him to the hospital after finally realizing he wasn't going to get any answers. After the two stepped into the waiting area, he ran to the nearest available teller and practically demanded to know where Winston was being treated. After an agonizingly slow few minutes, he finally got an answer.

In retrospect, running as fast as he could through the halls was probably one of the worst things he could do in the hospital, but he really didn't care. He easily managed to avoid any obstacle he encountered. Who knew there would be so many movable computers, monitors, and people in those maze-like hallways? When he finally reached Winston's room, he was met with a wall of people. Several doctors all wearing dark expressions seemed to be deep in discussion as they blocked the only door into the room.

Unsure how to interrupt the doctors, he was happy to realize Winston's room had a window. Peeking in, he felt his breath hitch as he realized just how serious the attack on his guardian had been. Winston was unconscious and hooked up to a respirator. Several monitors were hooked up to the man, and two IV bags, one of blood and one of clear fluid, were also put in place. What little bit of skin was not covered by bandage or machine looked bruised and swollen. The overall image made Winston look like he was fragile enough to break if he was touched. Danny had to try and hold back tears as he wondered who could have done such a thing.

"How the hell did you get here so fast?" an out of breath voice asked from somewhere behind him making him jump. He turned around to see a rather winded Sergeant Ross giving him a searching look. "I couldn't go more than a few feet without out running into something."

Danny didn't say anything as he turned back towards the window. He didn't want to have Winston out of his sight for more than a few minutes. He just had this feeling something terrible would happen if he did.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you part of Winston's family?" A person wearing a white coat came into the periphery of his vision. Curious, he turned to see a young female doctor extending her hand to him. "I'm Dr. Sabo, and I'm currently in charge of managing him while he's here."

He hesitantly took her hand and explained who he was. "How… how is he?" Even he could hear the unease in his voice.

"That's the big question, isn't it?" Dr. Sabo frowned as she looked towards the window. "I hate to say it, but it's hard to tell at this point. Winston received several odd wounds from the attack."

"Odd…? How so?" the sergeant asked, surprising both Danny and the doctor.

She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to describe her thoughts. "It's the first time any of us have seen wounds like that. They almost seem to be large bullet wounds, but the edges of them act more like burns. And, to make matters worse, we were unable to locate any residual bullets there might have been. We're really at a loss for what happened to him."

"Will he be able to answer any questions?"

"I'm not sure. Winston, although stable, is in a terrible condition. He's going to have to be watched very carefully over the next several days. We're going to do our best to see that he heals, but it will be up to his body to make sure he recovers. From what I can see of him, he appears to be in very good shape for his age, so we're hopeful… but, you can never tell."

The world started to spin as Danny listened to the doctor go into more details about Winston's condition with the sergeant. He allowed himself to slide down the wall and sit as he tried to get some sort of grasp on the situation. He never thought he would be in this situation. He had once joked that Winston was too strong to ever be taken down by anything other than a renegade bus, but this had shown him Winston was human, just like everyone else.

Danny couldn't take it anymore. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, he buried his face in his hands and allowed the tears to come. It was a small comfort, but if he was going to have to deal with the police over the next several hours, he was going to need to be as strong as possible.

=======================================

Anyways, a couple things:

J. Marley Central Hospital is not a real place… at least I think so. I named it to keep in line with the ghost theme of the show. Jacob Marley was the first ghost who appeared to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Dr. Sabo and Sergeant Ross aren't all that important. They're really only there for this section.

And, can I just say that hospitals are the most confusing things on earth? Cuz, they are. There are at least fifteen hospitals within an hour and a half of my house, and all of them are mazes. The floor plans are ridiculous. You can't walk through them without encountering workers, movable computers and/or other medical devices, and let's not forget the robots. Don't ask about that last one. It is really funny to see them having a Mexican standoff though.

[girlofmanyfandoms]

The Angel and The Siren

A/n: Based off of anon prompt that I’ll post separately so y’all can see that! Ily anon, that prompt was just *chef’s kiss*. Also I got a lotta stuff to do, so idk if this is good or not (it’s not)-

Word count: 2000

Warnings: idk mate, executive dysfunction kicked in and this happened

Writing taglist: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty  @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart @vibing-in-the-void @clearlykeefitz

Linh dozed off to the side before jolting back to life. Marella shot her a concerned look, but she waved it off to the side. She had to fight through this. Sophie’s lips were moving, but all she heard was the distant calls of the wind mixing with the cries of dawn. Off in the distance, she saw a flareodon glide from the forest to the ocean, it’s beak gracing the water just enough to cause a beautiful rippling effect. Yet still, the colors blended and blended together, the world nothing but a watercolor painting fading away.

“Linh!” 

“I’m alive,” she blurted out. 

“Yeah, I almost couldn’t tell,” Tam muttered, grunting as he helped her up from her near-fall. “You nearly passed out.”

“I’m fine,” Linh reassured him, putting a great deal of her weight on her brother’s shoulder. “I just... need a breath of fresh air.”

“You should probably head home,” Tam suggested, though it was obvious he was restraining himself. “I’ll update you when I get there.” 

Linh had an amused look playing on her face. “Tam, I’ll be alright, I’m just tired. I’ll take a walk and see how I feel, okay?” 

“But-”

“I’ll go with her,” Marella offered eagerly. She flushed, and began to correct herself. “Just to make sure she’s safe.” 

Linh’s face lit up and she grabbed her hand, grinning from ear to ear. Her guardian angel had arrived. “We’ll be safe!” Marella called before dragging Linh out of the house and down the porch of the vacation home.

They drew closer together, Linh examining Marella’s features in full. Oh, she was an angel alright. Her eyes held a sort of fiery determination that dared anyone to approach her, yet showed the upmost sympathy for those who struggled like her. For those who were weak and beaten down before they were strong and built up. Sunlight cascaded onto her, making her blonde locks swirl through the air like flames from a newly made campfire, warming everyone around her. Like a halo. 

Marella blushed and glanced to the side. “Is there something on my face?” Linh shook her head and leaned on her a bit, pulling her into a side hug as they approached the shoreline of the tropical island hideout. “You just have a pretty one.”

Marella scoffed. “You’re talking?”

“Yeah, I am.” Linh waded into the water, letting the tides bring her underwater, just to the point where her face was above water level, hair floating around her like thin sheets of sea foam. She sat up slowly, and started swimming farther from shore, stopping to beckon Marella. Follow me, the gesture called. The beautiful siren waited patiently, a strand of hair in her face with her head at a slight tilt making her look both shy and innocent, and sly but deadly. The angel was entranced, so she kicked off her boots and followed without hesitation.  

When Marella got close enough, Linh held her by the waist, ordering the water to surround them like walls. She pulled Marella close and guided her in a sort of slow dance, letting the tides carry them. Linh’s movement were fluid, and Marella followed her lead, trying to focus on mimicking her movements rather than her heart threatening to explode in her chest. 

Deep breaths, she thought to herself. She’s just doing this to keep Tam and the others off her back. Linh hummed, resting her forehead on Marella’s shoulder. “I wish there was something we could do about this.”

Marella panicked. She couldn’t have meant what she thought, or rather hoped, she meant. “This meaning...”

She broke their link, bobbing up and down with the waves, gesturing around her in a vague, fragmented manner. “All of this. The Neverseen, the Treaty with the other Intelligent Species, my parents, the matchmaking system. Everything. I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted to live my life, just like everyone else. But now the adults are cowards and force a group of teenagers, two of which were banished from their society for years, to save the world. I just-” She paused, her voice cracking as she looked towards the sky to blink back tears. “I just want to be a kid. Is that too much to ask?”

Even Linh, with her sweet and innocent front, was breaking. She was crushed, and broken, and in pain, and it tore Marella’s heart into pieces. “I’m so sorry. I-if you don’t mind me asking, what was that like? Like, what happened before you got banished?”

“I was a kid,” Linh smiles sadly in reminiscence. “An unhappy one, but a kid nevertheless. But when I got to Exillium... I became a monster.”

“You’re no monster.” Marella frowned. “And didn’t the group say that they feared ‘The Shade’ because he was protecting ‘The Hydrokinetic’?”

She chuckled in response. “That’s what they wanted you to think. The others were scared of Tam, definitely, but not before they were scared of me, and not for the same reason.”

Marella raised her eyebrows, daring to swim a little closer and lean on her a bit. “Care to elaborate?”

“I guess it would help to let something out.” Linh bit her lip in thought. “And... if there’s anyone I would want to tell first, it’d be you.”

She breathed for a moment, her action syncing with the swells of the ocean. “I got banished a week after the floods. We were going to Councillor Terik to see if there was any potential that would ‘save us from our fate.’ Terik said that he wanted us to meet with Quinlin and Livvy first, to view our records and check if we had any medical issues. We also had to go shopping for clothes, makeup, accessories, anything to make the two of us look different, like we were born separately. But since we both manifested relatively young, and we hadn’t gotten into Foxfire yet, we couldn’t control ourselves.”

“And that’s when the flood happened?”

“No,” she laughed. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t have been banished. No, what happened was a combination of neglect, stress, panic, and misfortune.”

“So...”

“So something wasn’t supposed to be there, and we freaked out, and our powers crashed together and ripped the barrier open even further than it was getting.”

“It was already breaking?” Marella asked.

“It was old,” Linh shrugged, though from the way she was examining her damp clothes for lint, it was clear that the siren had told a white lie. She crossed her arms and looked down, presumably in guilt and shame, though most likely to fight off the wisps of pain and trauma that clung to her with a vengeance, like a ghost of who she once was. 

The angel was conflicted, but decided to take up her own strategy. She extended her hand. “Let’s get farther away from here. See what the jungle has to offer.”

Linh hesitantly accepted it, the walls descending slowly, soon at peace with the rest of their surroundings. A pulsing of emotions ran through her, a symphony from a past life. It confused her, but despite the vapor clouding her mind, she was able to make one clear thought.

Her hands fit perfectly in mine. Linh shook her head vigorously to clear it of those irrational ideas. She’d learned the hard way what getting close to someone cost. “What are you thinking then?”

“You said you’re stressed, right? Like you can’t be free?”

She nodded, eyes narrowing.

“Let me show you what freedom looks like.” Marella let Linh guide the two of them to shore, releasing all of the water trapped in their clothes and hair back into the environment. Doing an awkward hop to get her boots back on, she raced into the jungle, using her momentum to launch herself onto the nearest tree, managing to get her arms around the lowest branch. She swung her body up and let one arm hold her, using her other hand to aid her in letting out an ear-piercing summoning whistle. 

In a moment, the flareodon that had been circling the island landed on Marella’s arm like a hawk. Marella waved Linh over as it preened. “See? He’s free to go wherever he likes and do whatever he likes when he wants to do it; he’s got no calls of the sea binding him to a workbench and no looming duties of the hearth to dedicate his life to. And what does that make him?”

“A freelancer.”

“Free, Linh. That’s the key word. He’s free. And you will be too. You just have to have faith.”

“I wish I had that.” She sunk down against the tree opposite to hers, fiddling with a ridiculously large leaf that had fallen from a nearby plant. “And maybe there is some for you. But I’m a twin, and a previously banished one at that, and my life will be dictated by some stupid matchmaker trying to match me up with a stupid ‘powerful’ man that I’ll never love!”

The flareodon was startled by the quick escalation of her volume and took off. Marella, however, drew closer. “Is there a reason you know that you’ll never love that man?”

Quit the wishful thinking Marella! But still, her heart held hope.

“It’s based purely off of genetics,” she whispered, her voice betraying her.

“Linh, come on, I know it’s something deeper,” Marella insisted, bringing the girl to her feet. She diverted her eyes, refusing to even look up. “Answer me, please.”

“You know, you’ve got a lot of fire in your soul, Mare,” Linh murmured. “It’s admirable. But I think back and I analyze and there’s not a single thing like that about me. All I do is pretend to be an innocent little girl just to drag people down with me. There’s nothing admirable about that.”

“Hey, no one talks about my Linh like that, got it?”

My Linh? their minds screamed in unison. On one end, Marella’s cringe scorched at the edges of her mind. On the other, Linh was drowning in the overwhelming feeling she never dared to feel. Hope. Yet again, in the distance, she heard the wind throwing itself upon the raging waves. Though they weren’t raging anymore. They were systematically crashing together, a docile beat not so foreign to her combining with the whistling of the tree leaves to form the melody she longed to sing all along. Home. This is it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

Linh tossed her leaf to the side, standing up with newfound confidence. “You didn’t. You don’t have to apologize for anything. In fact, I should thank you.”

Marella laughed nervously. “There’s nothing to thank me for.” She looked around for a change of topic. “It’s getting late, you should head home. Tam said he’d check up on you, he’ll get worried if you’re not there.”

“Tam worries no matter what.” Linh shook it off. “And besides, I don’t want to go home alone. I like... being around you.”

“I like being around you too,” Marella flushed. She glanced to the side and picked up a fallen hibiscus that was still intact, quickly braiding it into Linh’s hair. “There. Now you can have a piece of me wherever you go.”

Linh smiled sweetly, pulling Marella’s collar towards her and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I think I’d rather have all of you,” she breathed softly, before stepping back and holding her crystal up to the Sun.

“Thanks, babe!” she called, a smirk proving her pride as she stepped into the light.

Marella touched her cheek, in shock from the confession, as goosebumps travelled up her arms. Her other hand frantically searched her pockets for her leaping crystal. Biting her lip, she glanced to the side, having to squint as the sun began its journey to the other side of the world. Surely the crew wouldn’t mind if she slipped away too. Besides, there was something more important. The siren called. 

[powermaknae]

In the Dark

Incubus! Yuta x Witch! Lily

Yuta leaves a life of wild partying and long nights to be with Lily, a witch with growing power.

 Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count- 4.7K~

~Fantasy!au, sexual themes, some angst, blood play, power complex, choking(not a lot), alcohol

  A/N- Hey! This one was fun. I got really into it tbh and I’m really excited about it. I also decided to use one of my own characters for this instead of the reader pov. I’m planning on making a character bio for her soon, and if you’d like to suggest a character of you own, you can send a bio like the one I’ll make for Lily. There will also be more parts to this series, maybe 2 or 3 total, I’m not sure yet but yeah. Hope you enjoy!

 He roamed the street through the hours of the night, inconspicuous to most. His handsome face became familiar to partygoers and bartenders all over the city. His reputation was an unspoken understanding among powerful names. No one got in his way.

Bouncers knew to let him in without hesitation. He would walk to the front of the line in his fitted suit, his slightly curly brown hair falling just above his hooded eye that glared at the large man who quickly moved the rope.

He strutted into the booming room, lasers dancing on the fabric of the suit, the music dulling every other sense to most humans. He went to his usually seat at the edge of the bar. “What will it be tonight, Mr. Nakamoto?” The bar tender inquired. “Yuta, please. And your finest vodka.”

Alcohol didn’t affect him much, but he enjoyed mixing cinnamon into it. It gave him a heightened awareness of his ability. He could see people with a clearer vision, and they could see him more vividly, making him more desirable to mortals. After several rounds, he scoped the room with dark, lustrous eyes, looking for his next victim.

He spotted her across the dance floor, way too drunk to keep her balance. Perfect. He downed the last of the painful liquor then got up gracefully, smoothly making his way over to the weak woman. Her dress clung to her sweat-covered body and was perhaps a few sizes too small, leaving little to imagination.

Yuta didn’t have a preference of what they looked like. He just liked them messy, always leaving his mess for his underlings. He didn’t care much for passion, only pleasure: his pleasure, at least.

He ghosted his long fingers over her slim waist, slipping behind her silently. She turned to find her suiter, only to feel his presence in front of her now. She spun to meet him, taken aback by his ethereal appearance. His skin radiated with alcohol, his eyes had morphed to a light honey color, no less dangerous than before, but the energy he gave off was magnetic. No woman could resist him in this state, or so he thought.

She fell into his grasp as he lulled her in. She fell into his strong figure; he was practically holding her up as they walked off to find a private room upstairs.

***

He emerged from the room tipsier than he went in, no sight of the girl. The suit he had dawned was now in disarray, several buttons undone and his white dress shirt untucked. He left a hefty tip this time, having been much less careful and taken longer than usual.

He left without another word, feeling less than satisfied. This city had become boring, he had created a routine much to his disliking. He had found the city by chance and didn’t intend to leave, but he desperately needed a change of pace.

********

Lily lived a simple life away from the busy city. She didn’t hate it, but all the energy it omitted was exhausting. Her family were quiet, serene people, healers mostly, who lived to help others in the peace of the world.

She learned magic early on, things to protect her, what herbs heal emotional wounds, and how to direct her energy to manifest magic. Her magic became much more than just that of a healer, she could manipulate the world to her whim, so when she first killed a man, she ran. She never meant to; she was just unfocused, or at least that’s what she told herself. But she knew she was never meant to be a healer.

Her brother, Doyoung built her the small house without their parents’ knowledge. Doyoung had sensed she would leave and just wanted her to be comfortable, knowing she could easily protect yourself.

She lived in that house very comfortably for many years, many not knowing it was there. She had it painted with protective symbols, hung bundles of sage and cinnamon above every door frame and grew a small herb garden filled with many magical supplements only supernatural creatures could nurture.

********

Yuta’s wobbly legs carried him to the outskirts, where he found a small cottage-like house surrounded by plants and flowers of unbelievable beautiful. Yuta had only seen flowers like that once before when he was first created as a creature of the night.

Some of the paint on the door was beginning to peel and the shingles on the roof needed replacing. He stepped closer to the door as the windchimes hanging outside the window clanked together, a whiff of his favorite sent filling his nostrils, clearing his thoughts of drunken pleasure.

The heavy lock placed on the front door was easily bendable to Yuta’s whim and opened with ease. Lily rarely put charms on her front door. She only did when she felt the energy was out of balance, and that only happened when she was young.

Yuta’s steps were warried yet unwavering. He felt uneasy in the unfamiliar house, something about it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Not dangerous or unwelcoming, but he could definitely sense the magic, unable to name or identify it.

His steps were now more comfortable, but the uneasy feeling grew as he drew closer to the main bedroom. He found Lily asleep in a large queen-sized bed, surrounded by pillows. The walls and ceiling had been painted with the night sky, stars shining all around him, illuminating the small figure in the bed.

The rush of energy startled her, causing her to jump at the sight of him, quickly gaining her bearings. Yuta looked down at her with a smirk, using the height difference to his advantage. He took a step towards her, his emotions flooding with something he was unfamiliar to. He felt a desire like no other, not like the stranger at the club.

She was beautiful to him, her short blonde curls were disheveled, and her skin seemed to glow under the painted sky, magic radiated from her. She was not a normal human, and Yuta knew it, but he wanted her. Lily was awestricken with his beauty, but she could tell he wasn’t human. She could see the aura around him was that of a creature.

“Who are you?” she said in a stern but quiet voice.

“I’m just here for some fun, princess.” Yuta had a wide grin on his pretty face as he inched closer to her. He wanted her more than anything, but before he could close the gap between them, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Energy surged through her arm, causing him a great deal of pain at the sight of contact. Her touch became heavy and Yuta slunk to the floor falling on his knees in front of her.

“So you’re a witch.” He hissed through clenched teeth, every muscle in his body fighting to keep him from collapsing.

“And what are you?” She demanded, energy flowing through her. But before he could answer, he fell at her feet, unconscious.

The next morning, Yuta awoke with a start, unaware of where he ended up last night. He was surrounded by plush material and a wonderful view of the morning sky. She really is a witch, he thought to himself, regaining his memory.

He was still dressed in his suit pants and white dress shirt, which he rebuttoned before exiting the room. Several different smells clouded his senses. He could smell the cinnamon above the door frames, herbs growing in the windowsills, and the eggs Lily was cooking in the kitchen. He appeared from the narrow hallway.

She could feel his presence before she could see him. “I don’t suppose you eat eggs.” “No.” Yuta was very confused. Why didn’t she just send me back? She’s clearly powerful enough.

“You intrigue me.” She blurted turning to face him. “I can tell what you are, but how did you find me?”

“What do you mean?” Yuta was genuinely confused.

“Touch me.”

His eyes quickly grew wide and his flesh turned a bright red. Many women had asked him to do this, but something about her felt dangerous to him, like she was drawing him in.

She realized her words were misleading and held an outstretched hand for him to take. He calmed his nerves, realizing what she’d meant, but it still felt dangerous.

He slowly reached for her hand, watching her movements for any sign of a trick, but she was calm. He grew nearer to her hand going to take it, but as soon as their skin made contact, he pulled away with a jerk. His hand burned as if he had touched an open flame.

“Something about my magic repels you. Like a werewolf to silver.” He watched his hand, the red marks quickly fading. He was truly baffled by this woman.

She turned back to the food, making herself a plate. “I don’t know what you can eat, but feel free to stay, if you’d like.” She brushed passed him with her plate and cup of fresh cinnamon tea. Yuta caught a whiff as she walked past him, following it to a small nook surrounded by glass walls.

“Why are you doing this?” He inquired.

“Like I said. You intrigue me.”

“No. You know what I am. Why not just send me back?”

She looked into his eyes, the now warm chocolate color changing to match herr deep blue ones. She was nothing like he’d ever seen. He was usually the one to seduce and dominate his partners, but she made him flustered, almost matching his exact energy.

She looked out the window at her small herb garden. “You’re different. I’ve never felt energy like yours in a demon.” Yuta could tell there was more. She wanted him to be able to touch her.

They sat in the small space getting to know each other. Yuta was entirely enthralled by her, her giggle was adorable, and his cold heart sang when she looked at him. Lily felt the same. She couldn’t tell if it was the tea or his beautiful smile that healed her, but she loved it.

“Do you need a change of clothes? I want to show you something.” She asked, getting up to take her dishes to the sink. As ethereal as Yuta was, he did look a bit of a mess. His clothes were dirty, and his hair was tangled.

“I have an apartment in the city. I have a car there.”

And with that you were off.

They walked cautiously through the busy streets of the inner city. Yuta could smell the peppermint Lily always had on her. It was her favorite, so she always kept small candies in her bag. He admired her not only for her naivety, but that she appeared rather fragile while being one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever met.

He led her to a tall building with attendings waiting at the door. “Long night, Mr. Nakamoto?” One inquired as he approached the double doors. “You have no idea,” he muttered under his breath.

He tried to wrap his arm around Lily’s waist to guide her to the elevator out of habit, but he still was unable to touch her. A force held his arm only centimeters from her, not allowing him to shift any closer. Yuta hated this. He was so used to the control of his charms, but he had nothing over her.

His apartment was smaller than she imagined it from the outside. It was a studio apartment with a small kitchen, clothes were splayed out all over the floor. It looked like an average apartment, nothing about it looked off or unusual to the untrained eye. But the energy that flowed through it was unnatural. Lily was raised as a neutral being, that is how she can detect when others are swayed one way or the other. The energy in the small apartment told her what she already knew about Yuta.

She took out a stiped candy from her bad and began to mindlessly eat it, while Yuta disappeared into his walk-in closet. “So where exactly are we going?” He sounded from the other side of the room.

“It’s a…uh… a library of sorts.” The name was sacred to witches. She wasn’t really allowed to show it to him, but she wanted his help in figuring their relationship out.

“Will this do?” He appeared again in slim fitting black jeans and a red t-shirt. She gave him a quick nod accompanied by a small smile. He grabbed a set of keys and wallet from the counter as she stood from her seat, both heading to the door.

Of course, Yuta drove a beautiful silver Bentley. At this point he didn’t surprise her anymore. He had everything a man could want.

The moment Yuta opened the door for her, Lily smelled something musty. She sat in the passenger seat, the energy in the vehicle was overwhelming to her senses. Some one had died in this car. She looked in the bad seat, then to Yuta who was turning the key in the ignition.

“Really? In your car?” She looked at him unamused.

“How could you tell?”

“I can smell it.” He smirked to himself, impressed with her ability.

His driving was reckless, he drove 20 mph over the posted sign, made hasty turns and cut several cars off. Lily’s anxiety was certainly on edge, directing some of her calmed energy onto Yuta as a defense mechanism. He held her life at his fingertips, just how he liked it. She had given him the address of a nearby grocery store. The place they were going had no real address.

They left the car hidden in an ally way behind a French bakery, moving swiftly in between streets. A staircase of weathered concrete led them down to the green door of a small shop owned by a friend of Lily’s brother, Johnny. He had promised Doyoung he’d keep an eye on her, but she never saw him around anymore.

The shop sold comic books and dice sets. It was affectionately called the “nerd store” by many city residents. Lily led Yuta through the shelves to the back counter where Johnny sat on a high stool, sipping a cup of coffee. He glanced up to meet her gaze.

“What’s up, kid?” He stood with excitement at the sight of her. “We need to go… downstairs.” She whispered the last word, careful not to let anyone else hear. Johnny hesitantly moved from behind the counter, shooting a glare in Yuta’s direction, and led the others to a small cupboard under the staircase. “You know what to do.” She gave him a quick nod as he handed her a key the size of a needle.

Johnny was what Lily’s family liked to call a Keeper: a person assigned the task of understanding and protecting knowledge of supernatural magic and the beings that possess it. They don’t possess any magic themselves, only the knowledge to keep it safe. Johnny and Lily’s fathers had been close when they were young and died together in the Unspoken War. That’s how Lily’s family knew him.

As Lily held the miniscule key in her soft hand, the presence of her magic began to change its shape, becoming what looked to Yuta to be a skeleton key. He watched, enchanted by the very presence of the magical key. He had only ever heard of things like this in stories.

The key, now being of normal size, fit the oddly shaped keyhole that locked the cupboard closed. As the small door squeaked open, a void of darkness appeared in front of them. It was inviting to Yuta; he liked a bit of mystery. “Feels like home,” he grinned, following Lily into the confined space.

Once they heard the latch behind them, a sudden boom of light surged across the walls shining brightly above their heads. They were descending on another staircase into what looked like a catacomb. The walls were a dull gray filled with cracks and speckled with patches of moss. The air grew damp as they continued.

At the bottom of the staircase stood a large archway, a simple light switch on the right. Lily flicked it on with a swift finger and behind the archway, a large room covered in shelves burst into life. Lily shifted her weight with purpose going to the exact place she needed as Yuta hung in the archway, awestricken from the sight.

“I thought demons were crazy, but this- This is something else.” His dark chocolate eyes sparkled at the sight.

“Witches like to keep track of what we learn. They made these many years ago and scattered them under every major city in the country. Everything we know about supernatural beings is in this vault.”

Lily immediately started pulling volumes off the shelves, holding them in one arm, immersed in the energy around her.

“How can you tell where everything is?” He watched her carefully as she moved with such grace across the room.

“It’s kinda like sonar. I send energy out into the room and it bounces back to me from the book I need.”

Incredible.

There was so much to witchcraft that Yuta had never understood. He knew they existed, and some were stronger than others, but there was something about Lily that was different than any other he’d encountered. There was something about her that he desperately wanted to unleash.

Yuta had been lost in thought when he noticed Lily had stopped moving. She stood completely still in the center of the room; her arms had been emptied of the large encyclopedias. She held her chin to the ceiling, eyes shut tight and her palms facing upwards. Yuta took light steps closer to her, unable to read her emotion.

As he stood a few feet away, she snapped out of the trance, pulling herself to face Yuta now, then quickly shifted her small frame towards the shelf to her left. She propelled herself up using the edge of the shelves, hanging off the edge as she willed a particularly large book away from the wall and into her delicate hand.

“What?” Her voice was faint, filled with confusion.

“What is it?”

“It’s a book of powerful black magic. My parents used to tell me stories about it.” On the front cover, a shiny luminescent lock was displayed. “Only trained witches of high magical ability can open it. But why would it call to me?”

They both watched, standing side by side, as a blue hue danced across the cover. Yuta thought nothing of the unusual occurrence, only that it was truly enchanting, but Lily was deeply concerned. This book was only used by dark witch of great power. It had started the Unspoken War and held more power than any being. Why me? She thought to herself.

Lily brought the book to the pile of others, taking note of all she had collected. The books were not able to leave the confinement of the catacombs, for it would set the world out of balance, so she and Yuta would have to return for more.

Yuta grew weary at the lack of purpose while Lily paced the floor, trying to absorb as much as possible. He glanced at his gold-plated Rolex, surprised at how much time they had spent under the city. He had grown used to feeding on multiple victims every night and always felt like he needed more. He hadn’t fed since early the night before, before he met Lily, and he was growing much more sinful as the desire to feed grew stronger within him.

Lily could sense his energy change, looking up from her book. His eyes were a void filled with dark desire, his skin glowed among the books. She put all of the books into a box, where they disappeared for a moment and resurfaced in their designated space on the shelf. She grabbed her bag and tossed a striped candy at him. He snatched it out of the air and tore the plastic off.

“Let’s go find you something to eat.”

Johnny waited outside the cupboard door for their return, ready to close the store. Not much was exchanged between the group, the key was given back, and Lily simply said, “We’ll be back tomorrow.” Then, they left to retrieve Yuta’s Bentley from the alley.

Johnny knew Lily well enough to know that she wouldn’t bring a normal human to his store. He wouldn’t have let Yuta in if he was human. But he had a hard time determining what alignment he followed, and reluctantly allowed them to enter the sacred space. He ended up following the pair as they left, keeping his appearance discreet, after quickly locking the doors behind them.

The scent of the vehicle still hung in the air, making Lily cringe and open a window for fresh air. Yuta didn’t tell her where they were going, but he drove with more haste than before, a bloodthirsty need coursing through his body. He pulled up to his favorite club in the city, one he visited often. A neon sign reading “Neo Zone” hung above the entrance. The line was long down the street, eager patrons looking to gain access.

Lily was hesitant, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt. She had never been to a club before; the amount of tension was exhausting to her.

“Don’t worry about what you’re wearing, just go to the bar and ask for a few rounds of fireballs and put it on my tab,” He instructed her.

“And where are you going?”

“I have to check something; I’ll be right there.” He said it softly, but the tone was urgent.

“Fine” Yuta waived to the familiar bouncer to let her inside and opened to door as she looked back to catch which direction Yuta was going, but he disappeared before she could get the chance.

The crowd was bustling around her, people gyrating to the pounded speakers. She found the corner of the bar where she felt Yuta’s energy. He had been here many times and left a mark on the seat.

“What can I get ya, sweetheart?” The bartenders face looked smug as he looked her up and down.

“A couple of fireballs. On Mr. Nakamoto’s tab, please.” He burst into a sudden fit of laughter but was quickly interrupted by the death stare from Lily, fire burning in her cold eyes. The man’s airway became constricted as he choked on his laughter.

She relaxed into the stool, freeing the man of her grip. “Coming right up.” He said with haste, still slightly out of breath.

Yuta appeared in a flash behind her, wearing a tailored suit. “I found one,” He whispered from behind her. She downed the small glass of alcohol with ease, handing him one. “Where?” “Sitting in front of the staircase. She’s on her phone.”

Lily swirled in her seat, scanning the room, finding their target in a long flowing blue dress, hair pulled back into a bun. “What do you need me to do?”

“She was supposed to meet someone here, but they didn’t show. She’ll be reluctant to come with me, but just give her a little push for me.” Lily nodded, standing from her seat, moving with grace toward the woman. Yuta appeared in front of her, his movements were much more angular and quicker, almost frantic. You watched her every move, reaction, emotion. She shook her head at Yuta looking back down to her phone and he turned his head slightly, glancing at you. My turn.

Lily pushed her energy outward toward the woman and bended it to form a sense of pleasure. Yuta held an outstretched hand that she willingly took. He led her upstairs, glancing over his shoulder at you with a smirk, holding up a coaxing finger for Lily to follow.

He led them to a small room filled with red LED lights lining the ceiling. The large bed covered in black sheets was prominent in the middle of it, almost nothing else decorated it. By the time Lily had reached the door frame, Yuta had pushed himself on top of the weak girl. She was putty in his hands, as most women were. Yuta was an erotic creature by nature, but Lily’s cheeks couldn’t help but match the lighting as she watched.

He ravished her body, running his soft fingers along her skin, kissing along her jaw line, and making her wish she could have more. As the night grew on, Lily became impatient, feeling her own desire to be touched. Yuta’s movement were no longer gentle, much more aggressive.

“Hold her down for me,” he growled through his teeth. Lily shot a glare towards the girl, who’s face was now gripped with fear as her body went completely still. He got up from him place in between her thin legs, his hair was messy and he had taken off his suit jacket and dress shirt several minutes earlier.

The girl tried to squirm out of the grip of energy holding her in place, watching as Yuta meandered to the corner where Lily stood. She had been so entranced by him that she hadn’t noticed Lily enter the room. Lily’s magic was strong around the girl as she did her best to wiggle away from them, to no avail.

“Took you long enough,” Lily muttered in a low tone. “Sorry, princess. I get carried away.” His lips curled into a toothy grin as a pair of sharp fangs appeared.

“Hold her still for me, princess. This is my favorite part.” He crawled on all fours from the foot of the bed to straddle the girl as she lay unable to move. His eyes were jet black as he leaned in and gnawed at the base of her neck, drawing a small amount of blood from the area. She blurted out a curdled scream but was easily silenced by the raise of Lily’s hand.

Yuta’s teeth sank deeper into her flesh as he lapped up the fluid pouring from her neck. Her pale skin had been stained by the splatter of her own blood. Lily watched with an evil smirk as the life left her kind face, letting up on the forceful grip that she had placed around her body. Yuta immerged from the crook of her neck, chest and face smeared with her blood.

His demeaner had changed dramatically from when he had entered the club, his features were softer and his muscled were relaxed. His fangs had retracted, and his eyes were there usual shade of brown.

“I’m gonna go… get cleaned up. Don’t worry about the body, just leave it.” He walked to a door attached to the side of the bedroom that led to a rather bland bathroom, Lily could here the tap running behind the closed door. She left the room, leaving the door ajar for the red lighting to seep out of. A wave of exhaustion hit her like a brick wall as she reached the top of the staircase, suddenly becoming aware of the tole her magic had taken.

She sat on the top stair, holding her head low between her knees. Her vision was slowly blurring as her balance became unstable. Before she knew what hit her, she had collapsed, unconscious against the cool floor of the heated room.

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'

-’Falling’ by Harry Styles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRDKoMcgavw

I’ve seen and read a lot of fanfictions where it’s told from the POV of one character and that inspired me to write this but... it’s not happy... much... and Harry Styles’ song just also inspired me to write out this fairly sad piece because that song is such a tearjerker man..

I like to this of this as an inside look of the witch's mind and thoughts as well as her opening up about her issues.

WARNING: This small piece contains mentions and/or references to suicide and intrusive thoughts. Reader discretion is advised.

Interestingly... I've come to realize that Amy's behavior makes sense if you know what Borderline Personality Disorder is and what the symptoms are. Many of which she actually checks out for. I study a lot of psychology in my spare time and to my surprise, Amy ended up showing some symptoms even though I swear to God it wasn’t my intention, it just kinda... ended up like that.

For more info or insight on BPD: 

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/comic-perfectly-shows-jealousy-looks-232343129.html

https://psychcentral.com/lib/loving-someone-with-borderline-personality-disorder/

Amy’s POV:

Apparently most children get their quirks at the age as early as 3 or 4, but when I was 4 years old I didn’t get mine. 5, 6,7,8,9, still nothing. That was it, I guess that just meant I was going to be quirkless forever, on the bright side at least I would be part of a minority that I could one day fight for I thought. If I’m gonna be quirkless I would own it. That’s what I told myself.

But then one day when I was 9 years old I woke up over my bed, floating around my room until my mom came in to make sure I came down safely. She told me everything, how her side of the family has a bloodline of witches that dates all the way back in the 1800’s and one of my great great great grandmothers or something had the same genetic affliction. Just like that everything became different, when I thought it was awesome at first, started to learn just what I am and who I am, and the history of all the great witches of the past. Slowly but surely I discovered more powers about myself, more powers I would one day learn.

Everything was brilliant… until the following year my parents were killed by witch hunters. Dad wasn’t even a witch, he was just an ally, he loved my mom and I more than anything, and they killed him for that. Worst part? When the heroes got to me before I could get barbecued, they didn’t even kill them.

I suppose that’s where it all begins though, after that they decided I wasn’t going to be safe enough here and that my new powers that were manifesting would be too much for them to handle. And because they didn’t want to deal with me, they called on the other witches on the other side of the world. From then on out, I had to leave my old life behind, my best friend and his family who treated me like family. I went from orphaned, to abandoned, to a bloodbath. 

As soon as I got to New Orleans everything else was just as unsafe. Asshole frat boys, an actual Minotaur man, fucking zombies, voodoo witches and of course MORE witch hunters trying to kill us. And also an immortal racist, a Frankenstein Frat boy, a tongueless butler who has tea parties and sex with dead teenage girls, a wicked voodoo deity and an old, axe-wielding serial killer that was once a ghost in Robichaux. Yup. But that’s just a perfectly average day at Robichaux, and a perfectly average day in my fucked up life.

At least I had my sisters like Zoe, Madison and Misty, and Ms. Cordelia and how can I forget Ms. Myrtle? That woman needs to be a fashion icon and I will do justice by her and make sure the world knows who she was. And even Ms. Fiona. The bitch who used to be in charge was pretty badass, I mean if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be the strong, independent witch bitch I am today. Yeah I have a ton of issues because of the borderline emotional abuse she dished out on me and the other witches but still...

My new sisters were by far the least terrible part of the entire thing. Which is why it still breaks my heart to think about how some of them died, because not all of them came back... 

Through all of that I kept myself up though. I learned how to fight back and fight alongside my sisters. I learned how to be strong, how to rely on myself and my sisters because we knew that no hero was going to come to our rescue. I had to be strong, I had to have thick skin and an elastic heart. Yeah that’s right I referenced Sia, she’s an awesome singer, just like Stevie Nicks. Amazing women, inspiring...

Sorry, getting off-topic. Anyhoo, I’ve realized though that it’s better that way. Being with the witches showed me the truth of the world, how the world looks at us and how it wants us to look. We have to be perfect, we have to be charming, we have to smile and look pretty. Why? Because the heroes have to be there to save the cute and pretty damsel in distress so they can feel powerful. 

This idea of heroes and villains is really all just bullshit... all of these villains I’ve seen thus far... they’re kittens compared to the evils and horrors I’ve seen here. It’s not just New Orleans, but I mean Bloody Face was a monster back in the 50′s, then the man who made the Hotel Cortez, he was pure evil and still haunts that hotel to this day. James Patrick March. Evil. Pure Evil and he murdered just to feel something, innocent people who didn’t deserve it. Dr. Arthur Arden, a.k.a Hans Gruper, the Nazi doctor who hid under a disguise and performed horrifying experiments on humans in the insane asylum of Briarcliff. Instead of helping those poor people, he just murdered, butchered and tortured them for his sick experiments. So many lives ruined, mutilated. The victim’s last moments were nothing but pain and a desperate wish for death until he put a bullet through their heads.

Murders, monsters, all of them. They all murdered for fun, and then even normal people were evil, the ones who valued their pride and selfish desires over anything and destroyed innocence itself just to achieve that. 

Those are the real evil people. All For One? Overhaul? Shigaraki? They couldn’t slice a loaf of bread with the amount of sharpness they had all put together. 

Those ‘villains’ that All-Might and my friend Midoriya have fought thus far are nothing compared to the monsters I’ve seen. They’re all a bunch of kitty cats, but I’ve seen and known killers. Real killers. Real monsters. 

A woman from an old asylum once said that ‘all monsters are human’ and she was right, because the monsters I’ve seen were humans. The worst of humanity and I've seen it all. What heroes choose to ignore though is that it's in all of us, and that those who choose not to do shitty things is what makes a hero apoarently. What a crock of shit...

But I guess monsters are just another thing that the heroes like to glamorize so they can fight and save the world from what they deem as the real monsters of the world. When I showed that I wasn’t a sweet and gentle girl as he believed, Midoriya looked at me like I was a monster, which just proved to me that he’s a part of what I’m fighting, and that that’s what this society wants, a good little girl who does good things all for the sake of this society. And I’m a monster because I’m not a good little girl, my sisters aren’t good little girls, no, we’re not a bunch of sad girls who are just waiting to be rescued, we’re witches. We’re not giving those motherfuckers the satisfaction of saving the poor damsels in distress because we’re not, we’re powerful and we don’t owe them anything, not a thanks, not a hug, not a flash of our tits and especially not a goddamn smile that men just love to see on women. 

Men like that are afraid of women like us, they’re afraid of women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and dirty our hands with blood. Afraid of women like me. And I learned how to fight, I was able to keep myself flying, because that was my first power, flight. I can fly based on how I feel, or on how much willpower I put into it. My power comes from my emotions and no fucking misogynist can tell me my emotions make me weak because I can do anything I want based on how I feel and how much willpower I have.

Lately though, it’s been nothing but willpower, as the older I get the more I realized that I’m not loved in this place. I wouldn’t be missed if I disappeared and I know it. I know it. But in life young people like me have to keep going even though we’re also gifted with the power of being painfully aware of all the bullshit that adults try to tell us is the truth, but we know better than that, they just don’t get that we’re not as stupid as we look. Although the sad part is, some of us ARE and they buy into the bullshit and try so hard to be the perfect little shitheads these assholes want us to be.

I can’t do that though, that’s not me. I wish it was sometimes though, who knows, maybe if I was that kind of person then maybe I would be liked by everyone, but that’s not me. Maybe that’s why I won’t be missed, maybe that’s why I’m forcing myself to fly every damn day just to make it through. Forcing myself to pretend that everything’s fine and smiling like a fucking idiot just to make everyone happy and not let them be miserable as me, but this shit’s hard, it’s hard to act like you’re okay when you’re not.

And I’m too aware of this shit, too aware to be truly ignorant and I call people out if I think they sound ignorant. So I’m not surprised when they end up leaving me or trying to tell me to be nicer and that I shouldn’t be blaming anybody or anything just because I’m a cynical and miserable bitch. Yeah, I’m a bitch but I can’t help it. At least I know my shit, I’d rather be a miserable bitch than an ignorant one.

Yet here I am, constantly miserable, constantly thinking and constantly aware that I’m nobody’s favorite person.

That’s just it. I’m not surprised by anything, because everything I do, everything I say, there’s always something bad behind it, that’s the idea I give everyone. I know it, it shouldn’t bother me but apparently, I can’t bring myself to fly because I’m happy, because I’m not. And then there’s always something that shows up in my life, something to make me feel some type of way, not a good way though. I can’t help the way I react to some things, I wish I could though, a normal person would be able to just go out and live life the way everyone else does. But I’m not normal. I never was. And every single day I’m reminded of it, every single day I remind myself it.

Every time I fly it’s through willpower alone, not because I’m so excited that my feelings can make me fly. No, lately I haven’t been able to feel a goddamn thing, and ironically that’s what hurts the most.

For someone who’s first gift was flight and for someone who’s powers allow them to fly, I’m just… falling. 

Constantly, every time I fly, I just feel like I’m falling as the weight of this world just keeps beating me down until one day I eventually hit rock bottom.  I don’t expect anyone to catch me, not even my loved ones. I feel like I’ve hurt them enough. Everyone I love, I end up hurting in some way because I’m just a jealous, overzealous, toxic and cynical bitch. I don’t deserve them and they don't deserve this. All this poison, all this anger and problems, I don't want that for them.

So I don’t tell them that I’m falling when I’m flying. If I’m gonna fall, I’m not going to drag them down with me.

Rock bottom almost doesn’t sound like a bad idea at this point. There are times where I get so frustrated with everything, so angry and so pissed off that I need to get away from everything and everybody and I let myself fly upwards. I just fly as high as possible, so high that I’m in the clouds and I can no longer see the rest of the world beneath me. 

God... sometimes I get so high that I just want to stay up there. I want to stay feeling so high and so powerful like nothing can stop me. I’m invincible when I’m up so high. And yet that honestly terrifies me too, because when I’m up so high I forget everything, even the things and the people I don’t want to forget. How could I ever want to forgive some of the people I love the most? 

When I remember them, that’s when I regain my vision and I start to see how high I’ve gotten, and how far it is to go back down. Everyone can see me and they can see how far I’ve gone, even up that high I can still see their disappointed faces and that just no longer makes me feel so invincible anymore. Because then I start to think ‘here I am’ up on top and yet I’m all alone up here. 

Sometimes when I’m up that high is when I start to think about just letting go of the willpower and letting myself fall from such a distance, close my eyes and just let everything go. Let the gravity just bring me back down until I hit the ground.

 And then I wonder, would that matter at all? Would it be better that way?

But as usual, I can never think of a fucking answer… other than that I should probably just go back home because I have people waiting for me. Ashlen, Hitoshi, Katsuki, Madison... I hope they're not too worried about me... I know they want to see me come home even though I’m the last person I want around, and I honestly don’t know how they want me around. 

Yet I guess it’s enough to make myself fly a little more, just to go back to them, because in the end I feel a little bit of something when I’m with them. They’ve moved my wicked heart, even when I think I’m better off dead, they make me fly. 

I don’t know if I saved myself, or if it’s them who saved me, because frankly it’s too late to save me, but I’m still here. I’m still here so I can go home and see them.

God... I haven’t been home for a while, but I’m on my way back home, I know they’re waiting for me, probably worried about me too.

Ash, Toshi, Katsu, Mads... You guys don’t have to worry, I’m coming home now. After all, I wouldn’t miss seeing your smiles for the world. 

[royaliity]

W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S

Hi there, fellas! Below the cut, I’ve included some wanted connections & filled connections too. Please, do not be afraid to reach out to me on any of them! I’m seriously open to anything, even if it’s an idea not listed or filled! (updated: 04/01 @ 1:51AM pst)

M A V E R I C K   S T A R K ( Son of Tony Stark & Pepper Potts )

Best Friend - Someone that knows him inside and out. They’ve been friends since childhood and could be complete opposites or absolutely the same. Either way, this one has to come from the MCU! | PETRA MAXIMOFF

Littlest Sister - His weak spot, his bright spot. These two are attached at the hip and he would do anything for her. He has a hard time teasing her but he will definitely randomly tackle her and “beat her up” like older brothers do. |  MORGAN STARK

Dependent - Someone that he has to constantly defend. He wants to make sure they’re safe and sound always by picking them up and moving them out of the fight before he kicks the ass of whoever decided to mess with them. | EVERY MCU CHILD TBF

Ex - He knew it was a bad idea, he did it anyway. Now they’re in each other’s lives forever for better or for worse. They just stick to him and maybe get him on a weird different level. | OPEN

Childhood Crush - He had a crush on them and they just never knew it. Even today he still has feelings for them, but pushing it down until it no longer exists still feels like a decent option. Worthless, but a decent option. | AUDHILD ODINSON

Friendenemy - Someone that really annoys the heck out of him and has extremely contradicting views but they work together so they have to make things work too. Definitely a Steve Rogers / Tony Stark kind of relationship. | OPEN

Labmate - Someone that keeps him from doing something stupid with his experiments. They keep him grounded, but hey, maybe they like to have some fun too. Who cares what they break? The Starks can fix it later, right? | OPEN

Enemy - Anyone against the family or anyone that tries to hurt his friends… Or maybe they hate him for the opportunity he got just for being Stark’s son. | SACHA BELOVA

T H E O D O R E   L I D D E L L ( Son of Alice Liddell )

Best Friends - People that are ultra-close to Theo and understand all the other crazy sides of him. They may not know about the whole “spirit” thing, but they know he’s a nerd trying to make it in the world. | OPEN

Older Sibling - Maybe they never believed in Wonderland or maybe they did. Either way, Theo always secretly looked up to them. They were the glue that held the family together and he just wanted to be as talented as them. | GEMMA LIDDELL

Younger Sibling - Maybe they never believed in Wonderland or maybe they did. Either way, Theo always kept  the beliefs of  fairy tales alive for them, even when they started to grow up. They’re much more mature than he was at that age, but that wasn’t a bad thing either. | OPEN

Ghost Pal - Someone that has stuck to him for one reason or another. He might be sharing his body with them every now and again or maybe he’s just someone they can talk to without manifesting and losing energy. Maybe they’re just helping him work out his powers. | KIERAN GRACEY

Guardian - Let’s face it, his big heart is a big target. He’s gonna need someone to keep him from getting thrown in the nuthouse or getting hurt because he trusts too easily. | OPEN

Crush - He stumbles over his words when he’s around them. He just can’t help himself. If he wasn’t so awkward, maybe he could manage to be with them someday. Either way, he still wants to be around them 24/7. | LYNETTE DESCHAMPS

Wonderland Buddies - Anyone from Wonderland that managed to sneak into the real world. They haven’t seen each other since both of them were kids. | ALL THE BUDS

K Y R A   K E N O B I ( Adopted Daughter of Obi-Wan Kenobi )

Best Friends - She’s always wanted the experience of getting dolled up and telling secrets like a normal girl. | OPEN

Partner in Crime - Someone that she can get in extreme amounts of trouble with. Whether it be pulling pranks or breaking some laws, it doesn’t matter, they’re game for it. | TOBY FITZHERBERT

Mentor - Someone to help her understand the force and how to be better with it. She’s chaotic, so whether it’s good or bad, she needs some help to get better. | OPEN

Good Influence - May go along with sibling or mentor or even friend, but someone who is constantly telling her she can be better and follow Obi-Wan’s good lessons. They help to chill out her firey emotions sometimes. | ARIN TICO

Bad Influence - Tells her to go for her emotions and that what she’s feeling isn’t bad if she channels it all into the dark side instead. She believes them, she just knows it isn’t a good idea... | BEN SOLO

Sibling Figure - Doesn’t matter if it’s brother or sister, anyone that she could consider an older or younger sibling would be amazing. She’s always wanted a family like that and envies it in many ways. | BRYN DAMERON

Friends w/ Benefits - She’s definitely open to a relationship with benefits! It’s kinda a thing for her to be with someone just for fun and enjoyment. She just likes to feel close to someone. | OPEN

Crush - Someone who develops a crush on her or maybe she finds she likes this person a lot more than she should. Maybe she’s afraid she’s gonna lose them too. Maybe they’re someone that makes her feel like she can make her Father proud. | DARYAN CRESSE

Enemies - Let’s face it, Obi-Wan had many enemies on the Sith side that may not like that Kyra exists and may want to take her out. | OPEN

B E A T R I C E   F I T Z H E R B E R T ( Daughter of Rapunzel & Eugene Fitzherbert )

Best Friend - Closest to her and knows everything she tries to hide. They can read her like a book and while they probably won’t call her out on it, they do try to keep her safe. | OPEN

Siblings (2) - She feels incredibly close with both of her siblings and is always putting their welfare above her own if she can. They make her life less lonely and she trusts them completely. | TOBY FITZHERBERT & OPEN

Guard or Stable Friend - Perhaps a child of Maximus or Pascal maybe? Someone who could have tried to teach her to protect herself and others and relied on her ability when they met as children. | OPEN

Ex-Friend or Ex - Someone that she thought loved her but she figured they didn’t after everything that happened. They were the one to make her wary of friendships at all. | OPEN

Corona / Arendelle Friends - More friends from Corona for her to adore or possibly become acquainted with. I would also like to see possible Arendelle connections! | OLA BJORGMAN

Controller - Takes advantage of her kindness and uses it to their advantage simply because she’s naive and easy to control once she trusts someone. | FELIX WESTERGAARD

Unique Friend - Someone to teach her that not all people are out there to be good and kind. Maybe they’re taking pity on her. Maybe she slightly annoys them. It’s flexible. | OPEN

H E N R Y   W A L T O N   J O N E S,  III ( Son of Indiana Jones & Marion Ravenwood )

Companion - Someone to follow him on every adventure, big or small. He would consider them one of the only people that don’t get offended by him and actually understands his thought process perhaps. | OPEN

His Little Sister - He took her on too many mini adventures when they were both kids. She’s one of the only people that knows when he’s faking it. Maybe a little more street smart where he can be a little book smart too. | OPEN

Ex - The initial person that broke his heart. Could have been when they were young or maybe things got too serious and he had to run away like dear dad? Either way, he tries to avoid them but he’s unable to. | OPEN

Enemy - Many people could fill this position. Especially if they’re greedy and disrespectful of culture or hurt others. | OPEN

Flirtacionship - He’s a pretty face with a little charm and they’re willing to put up with his bluntness and obsessive talk of history. | Adrien Solo

Apprentice - Someone he’s showing the ropes to! He doesn’t ever underestimate them, but definitely doesn’t want them getting hurt and he’ll do everything he can to make sure that doesn’t happen. | OPEN

M I K A S A   K O P O L I ( Daughter of Kiki & Tombo )

Coven - I would love it if the witches got together and created a coven of super diverse but interesting talents! The more power they have the better. Did someone say powerpuff girls?? | EDEN DALLOWAY-PIPER & OPEN

Customer - I would love it if she had a frequent customer that always required a certain potion or elixir… Or maybe they’re just addicted. Either way it works! | OPEN

Bad Influence - They’re so nice and pleasant to her that they convince her to use her magic for bad instead of good. Yikes, now they’re making drug-like concoctions or something. | KAL BARR

Best Friend - They realize her potential and push her to keep doing good and trying! They may go on adventures with her on the broom too! | OPEN

Big Brother - Someone that she looks up to more than anyone. She’s always pushing herself to be at their level. I would imagine they’re pretty close and work together well. | OPEN

Mentor - Maybe someone that wants to coach her more and make her better at being a witch! She could definitely use one at times. | OPEN

Apprentice - Someone she happens to be teaching about the magic world that she sees a spark in... She’s not a perfect teacher but they’re just starting out anyway! No biggie. | OPEN 

Attraction - She trips all over herself when this person comes near but she knows she shouldn’t ever fall for someone again. She would probably write them secret letters with flowers too. | OPEN

C H A R L E S   H A T C H A W A Y ( Son of Constance Hatchaway & Frank Banks )

Mortal Friends - People he can finally be friends with and helps him understand the mortal world just a little bit better. He may have been wary to trust them in the beginning but now he enjoys being around them. | AIDEN FUSSELBOTTOM

Macabre Delights - This person enjoys the darkness as he much as he does and delights in just talking poetry and sitting there in the comfort of the dark with him. They may talk a lot about their lives. | OPEN

Bright Side - This person brings out the light in Charlie. They make him feel happy like no one else had before. Maybe they make his life (or afterlife) a lot better than it ever was. | OPEN

Intuned with Ghosts - A mortal who’s sensitive to ghosts that he tells information to. He feels comfortable around them and will reveal information to them about the afterlife. | OPEN

Ghost Pals - Anyone from the mansion that managed to get him to talk and be social! | TAKEN

C L E M E N T I N E   N O R T O N ( Daughter of the Blue Fairy )

Her First Charge - Her felt as though he was falling in love with them and no matter how hard she fought to save them, she lost them. Most likely a ghost or vamp or something?? We can figure it out. | OPEN

Her Rival - An evil entity who Clem is strangely fascinated with and whom she would never say so. She likes to engage in banter with them and will fight them on occasion. Especially if they decide to come after her charges. | ALEKSIS CHERNABOG

Her Best Friend - Another fairy whom Clem admires greatly and finds to be much too good to ever be her best friend. They have history together and it seems as though they are always there to protect her at the most convenient of moments. | OPEN

Her Current Charge - Someone that is in need of a guardian angel and is alright with them having a very interesting empathetic connection. | OPEN

Her Older Sibling - Someone she trusts more than anyone and leans on more than they probably like. She learned a lot from them and sees them as a kind of equal and friend. | OPEN

His Younger Sibling - They’re little and therefore, they need protection too. They treat them how their older sibling treated her and is not embarrassed to make sure they’re okay. | OPEN

O L I V I A   F L A V E R S H A M ( Daughter of Hiram Flaversham )

Her Guardian - She’s bound to get into some kind of trouble and she really needs someone to stop her before she gets hurt. | OPEN

Her Mentor - They have a difficult relationship but she would do anything for him. Sometimes she feels like he’s the only one who knows exactly what’s going on with her and how much she actually needs people. | JOHN MOUSE

Her Best Friend - Call them the Dawson to her Basil. She needs a good partner that can keep her grounded and eating actual food. | OPEN

Her Rival - Someone that matches her wits and is out to hurt the people she loves the most. | OPEN

Her Confidant - Someone that understands how her mind works and listens to her babble on because they know they can help her and she can help them. | OPEN

Her Dependent - This person just needs someone’s protection like she did when she was little. She sees a lot of herself in them and wants to keep them safe. | OPEN

Her FWB or Ex - This is someone she probably trusted quite a bit and then they let her down in some way. She’s still drawn to them completely but she tries to stop herself from being with them to no avail. | OPEN

Her Mystery - Probably someone that she wants to expose as a fraud but can’t and while it frustrates her, she’s just too intrigued to give up. | OPEN

[littlemissrainhoe]

Here’s my piece for the @knb10thannizine. A huge thanks to the mods who hosted this project. I had a great time working on this. I hope y’all enjoy this. ^^

-

Title: Immortal for a Limited Time [AO3 Link]

Summary:

We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. - Lemony Snicket

Death champions no one. The same holds true for seven special people: bound by friendship, camaraderie and one great love for basketball.

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Generation of Miracles & Kagami Taiga

Warnings: Major Character Death 

-

Death champions no one.

It is but a simple truth, an eventual reality that one has to accept. Not even the greatest king nor the sneakiest thief could ever escape its clutches.

Yet somehow it still manages to elude even the most brilliant of us all. Its power of misdirection knows no bounds. Its presence lurks at the back of the mind, yet is not acknowledged until it manifests itself from what seems like nowhere and punches one in the gut.

The same holds true for seven special people: bound by friendship, camaraderie and one great love for basketball. They had such dreams, big ones—all of them including one another, despite tight lips and vehement denials. Though not outright, all seven were always in the periphery. They didn't have to say them, of course; they already knew—and nothing was going to stop them.

(But death does.)

.

.

.

 Akashi Seijuurou died at the hospital, surrounded by a plethora of sweet-smelling flowers that masked the scent of bleach and death.

He was found by a nurse, the look of absolute peace and satisfaction of a great man etched on his aged face. "It looked like he was coming home from a long journey," she would later describe to curious colleagues, perhaps embellishing her story a bit to sound more poetic.

At age ninety-two, he had accomplished far more than what his late father had. Right after finishing his Ph.D. with flying colors, he took over as CEO for his rapidly deteriorating father, proving that he is an Akashi through and through early on in his career. He continued to uphold the Akashi name, and even brought it to greater heights. He led the Akashi Corporation fearlessly and efficiently, turning it into a powerful empire that stands among the leading zaibatsus in the world.

Unlike his father who ruled with an iron fist, Seijuurou was known to be a compassionate and mindful leader; strategic and sharp, but never ruthless. He was loved and admired by all.

"My father was a great man," his eldest son said during his funeral, with a note of pride and sincerity that was missing during a similar speech done five decades ago. "If there is anyone in this world I aspire to be, it will always be him."

The media adored Seijuurou, going so far as releasing a special magazine in honor of the late Akashi, covering everything from his early childhood to his last days. His regimes as the student council president of both Teiko Middle School and Rakuzan High School did not go amiss, as well as his strong relationships with his family and friends over the years. Even his prowess on shogi was not overlooked, highlighting some of his more interesting plays.

In the eyes of many, he will be remembered as one of the most powerful and influential men in his time. However, to a certain few, he will forever be known as the invincible captain of the legendary Generation of Miracles.

 .

.

.

 Up to this day, the driver of the simple sedan would insistently say that he didn't see Kuroko Tetsuya, age twenty-nine, cross the road that dark and dreary night.

A man in his thirties, an ordinary salaryman. Family of three. Has been living in Tokyo for most of his life. Has no connection whatsoever with the victim. No malicious intent and solid alibi. After the collision, he immediately contacted an ambulance and attempted to resuscitate the bleeding man. He was later found by police officer Aomine Daiki, who happened to know the victim.

"I didn't see him! I swear I didn't!" would always be his answer, half-crazed from the accusations and growing guilt. The police had him checked for any signs of intoxication to find none. Even surrounding CCTVs would confirm that he did not speed a red light. Curiously, it was as if Kuroko Tetsuya was a phantom, an after-image in the rain, that even the cameras hardly picked him up until after the accident.

The doctors tried to revive him, but he passed away after a few hours.

It was but an unfortunate accident in the rain, but it took away a life nonetheless.

He was survived only by his grandmother.

 .

.

.

 As with most things in his life, Midorima Shintarou's death was predicted by Oha-Asa—or as much as fortune-telling can predict death and disaster.

Though relatively healthy at eighty-seven, when Oha-Asa came on with a particular medical warning for Cancers, Shintarou knew his time had come. Like a cat who recognized its end was near, Midorima Shintarou left his home after carefully saying goodbye to his family to purchase his lucky item of the day.

As the medics came to take away the venerable doctor who suffered a sudden heart attack in the middle of the department store, no one paid any mind to the rolling marker pen that fell out of the dying man’s hand.

 .

.

.

 Kise Ryouta did not so much die as he went missing.

At forty-two, he was one of the best pilots Hyperion Airlines had to offer. But when a freak incident took out both engines, his plane crashed into the ocean with only 17 survivors.

To this day, his body still hasn’t been found.

 .

.

.

 Murasakibara Atsushi found out he was dying of diabetes when he was thirty-four years old, which he pretty much expected. If anything, what surprised him was that it didn't come earlier. He never did get to control his eating habits; it only grew worse with age. He didn't continue playing basketball after college, focusing on his patisserie training in France, thus allowing his body to deteriorate with the lack of exercise.

Akashi conferred with his doctors every time he visited, and Atsushi knew he consistently asked even Midorima and various other specialists for a second opinion. Himuro constantly fussed over him like a mother—perhaps even more than his. They were very stubborn about all this.

But Atsushi was more stubborn.

"Muro-chin," he mumbled, attempting to get comfortable on the hospital bed he easily dwarfed. "You should go home. Ami-chin must be worried."

Himuro furrowed his brows. Had he always had that much wrinkles on his forehead? "Ami understands, Atsushi. I—I want to be here, okay? Don't worry about me."

He gave Atsushi that phony smile again—the one Muro-chin gave him whenever he tried not to show him what he really felt. Atsushi had seen it so many times, even more so in these past few months, and it’s still annoying. Atsushi wondered what Muro-chin would do if he punched him this time around.

Kaga-chin would probably get mad at him if he did. Better not then.

"Just go home, Muro-chin. You look like a ghost. Eat lots of cake. That would make you feel better."

Himuro chuckled. It was weak, but it was there. "That only works for you, Atsushi."

Atsushi only shrugged, as if saying, "So?"

There's that look again, but it was so fond and teary that he could only look away.

If there was anything Atsushi could pride himself in, it's the fact that he knew himself. Denying his feelings were one thing, but he knew his body—its wants, its needs, and its limits.

He knew he didn't have long. It was getting harder to breathe. The lub-dub in his chest was getting slower, heavier. His joints constantly ached, irritating like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Regretting his (admittedly) bad habits had no merits. For one thing, he never regretted eating what he did. (Though that wasabi-barbeque-pina colada-mix-flavored pudding was quite close.) Maybe he should've gone back to playing basketball, even from time to time, but he couldn't really bring himself to regret it. If anything, he regretted being in the mercy of nurses who refused to give him what he wanted to eat.

Even in the hospital, he kept requesting for his snacks, sometimes even going so far as rejecting his doses when they didn't comply. The nurses were quite exasperated with him. A man of such hulking stature—not to mention diabetic and dying—shouldn't be sulking about not getting his Maiubo.

"I promised Kaga-chin that I'd do the eating for him," he reasoned to a particularly irate head nurse.

But maybe, just maybe, his biggest regret was leaving his friends behind.

That's why he made sure to hand them snacks (smuggled in by Aka-chin) whenever they visited him—the most generous he'd ever been, really—as a simple thank you for always being there for him. He hoped that it could bring them the same kind of joy he got whenever he ate his favorite snacks.

In his funeral, his friends brought him baskets of pastries and snacks. They knew he would've appreciated those more than flowers.

 .

.

.

 Aomine Daiki wasn’t supposed to die at thirty-six, but when a perp got away from his bindings, he took the blow that was supposed to be for his partner. He died instantly.

Though he’s eternally grateful for Aomine Daiki, Tsuchiyama Kagami would wonder what made his chronically lazy and perverted senpai jump in to save him. They were just recently assigned together and based on his reputation at the station, despite being a brilliant officer, Aomine Daiki was not the type of person to play hero.

It was a question he would never get an answer to, but he would think of Aomine Daiki for the rest of his career.

 .

.

.

 Perhaps the hardest death to accept was Kagami Taiga's. Out of all of them, he was the first to go. Nineteen was too young, was it not? Everyone thought so as well.

A Modern-Day Hero, or so the papers said. The news about the fearless fireman who rushed into a burning house to save a seven-year old girl who was stuck inside. The girl made it out safely. Unfortunately, the young fireman did not: a light snuffed out too early.

"He’s a hero," the little girl's mother said in an interview, her eyes filled with tears as she held her daughter tightly in her arms. "I will be forever thankful to him for saving Hitoka-chan."

But awards and gratitude would not bring a dear friend back.

Of them all, it was Aomine who had the least control over his emotions, raging and yelling over his casket with the despair of the one left behind as Kise tried to hold him back through his tears.

He was the last of them to see him alive, just having finished a round of basketball a week before. It was jarring to see Kagami just laying unnaturally still, paler than he's ever seen him, in a tux that he was sure itched like hell had he still been able to feel.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Never again would they hear his voice, tinged with excitement and determination. Never again would they play the sport they love together. Never again would they see him soar.

"Why the hell did you have to go and be a hero, you dumbass?"

A lot of people came to visit his remains and paid their respects. His family all the way from America, the various friends he made throughout his stay in Japan, his colleagues from the fire station, his classmates at university and his teammates, the people he’d played basketball with, and the people who was inspired by his courage; so many people who hadn’t been in the same room for years, suddenly seeing each other again in what could only be a morbid reunion.

"Mere words cannot express how much I am indebted to Kagami Taiga," Akashi said during the eulogy. "He was my—no," he corrected himself. "He was our saving grace. His light never stopped shining bright, and even after all that has happened, not once did he stop sharing that light with us. Kindly, willingly... selflessly." Akashi glanced at the white coffin, his eyes full of emotion.

"Until the day we join him in the afterlife, we will miss him dearly."

[nillamybread]

Stay High - A Julian Angst Oneshot

(This is based on the song ‘Habits’ by Tove Lo and I do recommend you read this while listening to it. However, the story is still the same without it.)

Julian's elbow rested on the mahogany table of his minuscule prison, the light in the small cavern radiating from a lone candle which was flickering and burning out. The agonizing screams, all he could hear. Loved ones, partners, children, maybe even complete strangers, they all mixed in a cauldron-like sound until all came in was a merged liquid in a vial of agony, where he was forced to drink down every drop just to keep motivated to find it. The cure everyone was pleading for. They would grovel at his feet, citizens young and old. Mere infants would be thrown at him pleadingly, only to be taken away a few minutes later to follow the fate of many others. There was no way to save them, he was sure of it.

His eyes were blurry and glazed over from lack of sleep, forced open by the need to survive. For them... His memories of them were faint but he would never forget the pain he felt in his heart. The lump that manifested in his throat, hard to swallow and almost choking the husk of a body he dared to call a human being. His breaths were sharp and painful, his muscles weak as he went through everything possible, trying his best to help them, to save them... He had to... He had nothing left but them... His hair was messily curled, pressed and glued to his forehead with the sweat, blood and tears that fell down his translucent face. His body convulsing as he hurriedly wrote his notes, his letters, his books... All of them washing from his memory as he looked to the door.

There sat one of his only friends, a ghost of the past of sorts... His assistant, his love, the faint memory of them now mutilated, their shaking body and blurred eyes, red with the plague. He could see the fear in their eyes, the tears rolling down their cheeks. His breath hitched and his seat fell as he stumbled up, knocking over the bottle of ink that sat at the base of the table, the thick, dark liquid running down the table and the paper like thick treacle before falling as droplets onto the stone floor. He held his arm out to them. This couldn't be a trick... No... As soon as they took his hand the memory shattered into nothing but darkness.

His breathing became weak as he stumbled against the wall, his gloved hand pulling at his hair as his eyebrows knitted in worry. Tears falling down his cheeks rapidly as he crippled to the floor in agony, a scream of his own escaping his lips as he sobbed ferociously. His scream laced with poison, a need to leave, a promise to save them, the agony of others... He hadn't seen them in a few days and he was scared for their safety. He could still leave from his own free will but he had found no need... Until now.

He gritted his teeth and stood up with a swift motion, grabbing his mask and fixing it to his face, sighing heavily and grabbing his jacket. The jacket was messily put on as he rushed to the door and unlocked it, looking around at the scene that surrounded him. Pools of blood at his feet, the sickly stench of the red liquid he had gotten used to, but he remembered how they couldn't stand it. They couldn't stand anything about the dungeon-like torture chamber that awaited them every day.

He waded his way through the room, most souls who were still alive gripping at fleeing hope with screams of torture and weakness. A mother, a child, a family... All weakly awaiting their fate of the Lazaret. However, being taken there alive was mercy. Otherwise, the doctor's acquaintance would grab hold of them, play them like puppets, convincing them all would be fine. They would live to see another day, another horizon. That was not the case. They would be cornered, pulled into the plague's trap, pulled into a sleep they were never to awaken from. Or a surgery they would never recover from. Days locked in a haze, trying to forget they're missing family, their lives continuing on without them or coming to an abrupt stop.

He ascended in the elevator, the screams and wails now becoming a small, echoing and humming noise. His heels clicked heavily on the floor as his speed increased, making his way around the castle and towards the rest of Vesuvia. The city centre was his destination. He powered forward, almost sprinting past the death-like citizens crawling in every part of the city. His eyes bright and hopeful as he noticed the colourful shop sign sitting abnormally still overtop the door of the shop. He fumbled around his spare key and opened the door, expecting his beloved to be sitting at the counter with their warm, inviting smile...

However, this was not the case. The shop let out a waft of stale air, the silence almost deafening as he slowly entered the shop. He was confused, of all places. Why did his safe haven seem so distant... So lost... He walked around the dimly lit shop, the clouds of ash and smoke outside slowly falling down, blocking out the sun and any light to promise a bright day. It looked untouched, a thin layer of dust slowly forming as the glass counters and wood floorboards stay undisturbed.

A small enveloped letter took his interest, it sitting on the table in the back booth, lying next to it a fairly familiar tarot deck. He slowly picked the pristine letter up, the unbroken seal on the back as he red the address on the front. His heart almost stopped as he recognised the handwriting too well.

'To Julian.'

He swallowed his pride as he shakily opened the letter, his eyes grazing the page quickly until he stopped on a sentence that made his blood ran cold, shaking his head and baking up, tears spilling from his eyes as he ripped off his mask. His body trembling as he stuffed the letter into his jacket pocket and stumbled quickly out of the shop, almost sprinting down to the East Docks, his voice cracking at every moment of his mumbling.

"No... Please, no..."

He got to the docks, staring off into the distance and falling to his knees on the sand, the waves slowly creeping up and down the shore as his eyes stared off into the distance. It seemed small and harmless from Vesuvia, seen as heaven when really, they all knew too well where they were going. The large plume of smoke growing from the island as the smell of decomposition came to him like a wave of emotion.

After a few moments, he noticed a ship of red plague survivors being boarded and he scrambled to his feet, sprinting over and demanding access to the island. It was granted and he stumbled through the crowds of people shouting out their name in hope they would have been delayed access to the docks, however, there came no reply. A soon as the ship was pulled into the docks he quickly got out and started running towards the island, kicking away any black ash mixed sand at his feet, weaving through every single person pushing against him, trying to escape the bright fires that burned many people before them. He got to the building, the discarded belonging sitting in piles until his hope fled. He made his way over to the piles.

There, sitting in the mud, was a small heart-shaped locket he recognised all too well. His gloved hand picked it up and opened it slowly, it singing a song like a music box as it revealed the picture of them. Julian knew then he was too late...

Now, three years later, he sat there drinking Salty Bitters, the small voice next to him peaking his attention. There they were, his love, his everything. He wrapped a wing around them and sighed, closing his eyes.

"I'll never leave you again..."

[answrs]

Ghost!Vivi - The Beginning

I’ve had these two written out for over 2 and a half years now, figure it’s about time I posted part, at least. The second is actually more polished, the transition here I’m not too happy with but hey! it’s out of my drafts and thrown into the pit for the masses to- er, I’ll stop now. Enjoy!

Considering their respective lucks, even Arthur himself figured he probably wouldn't hit thirty before he kicked it. Vivi would become one of those ageless asian grannies, solving mysteries and kicking ass long after any sane hunter investigator would retire, him and Lewis still following her around like the little lost lovestruck puppies they were. They never really talked about it, (or ever, really), but it was a pretty consistent prediction across the group, morbid a thought it was.

So it comes as an even worse shock when, less than 5 years after that first fateful night, the Mystery Skulls loses its second member.

Later she'll look back and lament, how mundane her death was. Considering their group's vast repertoire of experiences with the supernatural... She wanted, expected to go down fighting, wrestling a manticore or something to save a town, holding off a demon while everyone else escaped, those exciting and noble deaths the heroes always got in the stories.

But nooooo, they hadn't even been on a case for a week! The 27-year old had taken her little blue second third whatever-hand over to the nearest 24 hour Walmart to snag some pads and a couple bags of chips. She'd been singing along to the latest obnoxious pop song on the radio, plotting what movies to subject her poor, unsuspecting boys to next date night. She was even going at a reasonable speed as the lights of the town passed by! (contrary to Arthur’s belief, she did follow traffic rules. sometimes.)

She never did see the truck that hit her.

The last things she remembers are snippets, screams and flashing lights, searing pain all over, a moving white ceiling and lights and frantic shouts and ‘what happened?s’, then familiar voices she can't name, can't understand, one is crying, maybe more, but they calm her as she slips, fades in and out of a deep nothingness.

The three males had been lounging together in comfortable silence, lights of the city peering in through the window of their shared flat. Lewis, book in hand, had long since accepted his fate as Arthur's new body pillow, sketchpad forgotten as he'd nodded off cuddling the large ghost. Mystery had overtaken the lounge chair and was channel surfing, the box muted in consideration of the dozing blond.Vivi hadn't been gone forty minutes when Arthur's phone had gone off, all three jumping at the loud and unexpected noise...

She doesn't remember much of the ‘Inbetween’, as she will eventually decide to call it. That stretch of time that spanned her last breath to manifestation. She’s not quite sure if she honestly wants to, to really remember those lost months, to see her boys deteriorate to the state she found them in when she regained herself. That ‘it could have been worse’ does nothing for the lingering guilt for the pain her absence caused them, nonsensical it may be, considering her state of un-being at the time.

When Vi dies, she comes back as a small young formless spirit, drawn to this other, stronger ghost. There's the lure of power, yes, but following this group just feels right, even if the spirit doesn't know why, can't think, doesn't know who they are or even know they are, to even have the capacity to wonder or question anything. It just is.

It's like a puppy trying to get their attention that first month when it's still too weak for even Mystery to pick up on. It doesn't question why it's drawn to this group of sad beings but still tries to comfort them even if it's effectively useless in its current state.

As time goes on, Lew notices the new, young wisp following them. They're in mourning, don't want any other hangers-on, but this one just feels so… familiar, somehow. So he lets it stay, draw on him, the thing slowly growing from the small speck of light to a disembodied spirit like the deadbeats. He won't, refuses to name it, doesn't want to get attached, get his hopes up. Even if that familiar aura radiates from it there's no telling if it would ever grow at all past that stage, so even if there's a chance it could be...

The little ghost as time goes on continues trying to comfort this strange group, especially that poor not-dead boy that always seems so tired, constantly on the verge of tears. It tries its best to wriggle itself into his arms, snuggle and rub his face, try to make him smile, even if it's clouded by sadness for some reason.

But as the weeks, months pass, it finally begins to wonder.

Who are these people, why is it so drawn to them, who, what, why? The more it questions, the more personality trickles back into it- no, her. Yes, that feels right. As her mind grows the generic fuchsia of Lew's beats fades from pink to light purple, to a soon familiar blue...

((TBC))

[overdrivels]

Five Times (+1)

I.

The very first time he catches you out in the common area sleeping on a sofa, he’s too early for his morning training, having woken up from some nightmare that he can barely remember. The lingering sensations of a distant nightmare cling to him incessently, nibbling at his temper and chasing him out of his room for some fresh air or some distraction.

The type of distraction he was hoping for was something of the 'beating-Hana's-high-score-at-a-game' variety and definitely not finding out that you've made the common room your personal bedroom. Seeing your peaceful face and erratic sleeping posture on the communal couch, he curls his lip at the comfort you bask yourself in. It's almost as though you’re mocking him. Ignoring a pang of envy and unjustified irritation, he turns his heel and exits swiftly, the door sliding closed behind him.

He never noticed you open your eyes, staring the closed doorway where he stood.

II.

He knows by now if he were to come by at four, you’ll still be sleeping. If he comes by at six-thirty on his way back from morning drills, any and all trace of your presence would be gone. The only signs of your presence was the quickly fading indention on the couch. He doesn't know if you return to your own room or if you actually go about your day, and doesn't think he cares enough to find out.

The curiosity gnaws at him, nonetheless. Who are you to take up the entire common room as your personal sleeping area?

“Don’t you sleep in your own room?” he asks coolly over afternoon tea one day, half-way condescending and half-genuinely curious.

You give him a side-glance and shrug, take a bite out of the cookies that Ana shares.

“Sometimes.” Your answer is dismissive enough that he finds himself unwilling to pry any further. Where you slept was none of his business, he reasons. Though, it did not stop him from wondering why.

Of course the couches are comfortable, but the beds must be marginally more so. Hanzo, having been raised in an environment were survival is key, can’t imagine wanting to sleep in an open space where enemies may attack at all angles (as evident by how he stacks his bed against two walls and keeps his head far away from the door or window).

He doesn’t ask anyone else about this. It’s not his business. And you don’t indulge him with any further details.

But now, prior to going into the kitchen for his morning fix of tea, he will stop by the common area. For what reason, he’s not sure, but he does at least for a few seconds to assure himself that you are there.

III.

It’s vintage movie night, and most of the crew is here. Hanzo is only here because Genji insists on him spending some time to understand his comrades.

If there's one thing that Hanzo has learned tonight, it's that Jesse McCree is not allowed to pick movies unless he is interested in watching only Westerns.

You are relaxing with everyone on the couch that he has often found you asleep on. The clock reads well past two in the morning when you all part. He hides his surprise when you leave the room with a wave and a yawn. He had expected you to stay and pull out your sleeping gear.

Perhaps you did sleep in your room, after all? He looks back at the couch, bereft of your presence entirely. It's strange seeing it like this. Wrong, even.

He makes his way back to his own room, ignoring the strange hollow feeling at his back.

He has to train in the morning, after all.

When he awakens several short hours later, he passes by the common room as he always does--out of habit, mostly. He has to do a double-take at the far too familiar scene.

You’re already there, blanket and pillow, dead to the world.

He nods at you, fully knowing you won’t return it, and then leaves, a little more secure in this knowledge. If there's another thing he's learned tonight, it's that you're going to be here.

IV.

It is the usual time for his training. Hanzo stops by the common area for his routine two-second check-up.

But today is different.

Inside the room, he spies McCree with you. The cowboy is sipping something, your head in his lap, nestled deep into his stomach. At the sound of the door sliding opening, the cowboy raises his head and eyebrows wearily, then his cup follows when he sees Hanzo. Hanzo stays frozen at the doorway. In all his weeks of doing this, he didn’t expect to see someone else here.

Something in his chest burns, and a knot in his stomach twists uncomfortably at the somewhat intimate sight. He turns his heel and leaves without a word.

His target practice does not go over so well that day.

The days following, Hanzo does not drop by, convinces himself that he is being rude and intrusive and that there is no reason why he should feel even an iota of anger at the fact that Jesse McCree has also seen you at your most vulnerable or that he’s sitting like he belongs there and that you sleep willing and defenseless or–

He bites his lip white to stave off the path his thoughts were taking. The world spins slightly around him. He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales harshly, trying to ground his thoughts into dust–god, he’s a fool.

V.

He knows he’s being unfairly short and curt with you when you see each other in the communal kitchen. If you notice it, you don't say anything about it. However, his brother notices it, asks him if you're fighting. He denies it.

And as if to prove it to himself, he finally returns to his routine of stopping by the common room.

There is someone else with you this time. He’s about to turn and leave, similar to the time he saw McCree with you–it’s childish and unwarranted, he knows–but something in his mind stops him and urges him to stay. The light behind him barely allows him to see into the room and make out the figure who is curled beneath your blankets and tucked almost protectively beneath your arm.

But he recognizes the shape of the figure in your care and something tugs harshly at his heart.

Hana.

He crosses the room in an instant, apprehension of intruding on this space while you slept in it, forgotten. He can see Hana’s face is slightly puffy and red around her eyes, her nose the same way. Her hands arms are tight around your torso, and her head tucked beneath your chin, drawing her close. Again, an ache sounds off in Hanzo’s chest, stronger this time.

Was it pity? Sympathy? He doesn’t rightfully know. But he understands.

Hana may be fierce and strong, larger than life and full of energy, but at the end of the day, she’s still a twenty year old girl. It’s unsurprising that these fights would take a toll on her, that she would seek solace in another human being.

Hanzo delicately brushed stray hair from the young girl’s face, careful not to disturb her. She needed her rest, and if she could find comfort in your arms, he couldn’t complain. He would never want someone like her to go through this alone–not like him.

Maybe, just maybe if he had someone to go to when he was at his lowest, he wouldn’t be such a mess of a person.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice you open your eyes, watching him watch Hana. When he does, however, he’s not surprised. Like a puzzle piece slowly sliding into place, he thinks he finally understands why you sleep out here now.

VI.

Hanzo awakens from a nightmare–one that haunts him with more ferocity than usual. No amount of tossing and turning could bring him back to sleep.

Perhaps it’s because he’s been with Overwatch too long and has gotten too used to the company of these oddballs. But the idea of being alone is no longer appealing, especially not when the objects of his fear are so clear in his mind that he only needs to hold still for a moment before they threaten him with their (imaginary) presence.

He walks quickly to the common room. You'll be there, he knows you will be. But doesn't know if there will be someone else.

The door opens and for a moment he holds his breath.

It's just you, sleeping without a care in the world.

Hanzo breathes a private sigh of relief.

He should be satisfied with this, but the poltergeists are close--of an imaginary dead brother, of a potentially more realistic father, of the manifestation of the responsibilities he once was proud to bear. Their encroaching presences forces him to take a step forward.

Then another.

He’s half way into the room before he feels marginally secure, knowing that they will not come with another so close. Even the ghosts of his fears would not risk letting others see his weakness. Pride is a powerful and deadly thing.

As if sensing his presence (or perhaps you've just been waiting), you open your eyes calmly like you've been awake the entire time, lucid and very much focused on him. It's only in your voice does he know you've actually been asleep.

“Come here.” As exhausted as you sound, it's also commanding like a tether or a leash that you were using to reel him in.

He approaches slowly, hesitant. You press yourself deeper into the couch and lift your blankets in invitation.

In his mind's eye, he sees Hana, sleeping with red-rimmed eyes and borrowed comfort. He sees McCree, warm drink and weary face, held down to the earth with the weight of your head across his lap.

He sits on the edge at first, the residual heat on the couch warms his hands. Your arm is still up–it must be aching by now. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself before he carefully slips his legs onto the couch, and lies down with his arms tucked into himself, conscious of your body, determined not to intrude and touch you.

But you had no such thoughts as the arm finally comes down, and all at once, your press his body close, cradle his head into the hollow of your neck and draw the blankets securely over his shoulders. He jerks, the intimate gesture too sudden and too strong, but forces himself still again.  

It's warm, excruciatingly so. Confining. Uncomfortable. You have a warm, musky smell of someone who has slept too much–it vaguely reminds him of the days he would accidentally oversleep and rush to the shower, determined to be clean and presentable for whatever tasks he had that day.

"Relax," you mumble above him, nudging his shoulders with your arm.

He begrudgingly attempts to do so, loosening his shoulders and shifting his position so he's more comfortable. The couch itself is not very big, barely able to accommodate you both. In the end, he turns himself around entirely, his back to your chest.

Behind him, you hum quietly, the rumbling tickles his back and travels to his fingertips and toes.

He does not particularly like noise when he sleeps. It only serves to distract him from any dangers that may approach. Logically, he is safe here. In the Watchpoint of an illegal organization that has the whole world out for its blood. Yes, he is completely secure here in the arms of the one agent who chooses to sleep out in the open without any protection barring an old blanket.If he were still a mercenary-for-hire, you’d be long dead.

His bitter, sarcastic thoughts slowly turn into static, the remains of his nightmare gradually eaten away.

[fandom-susceptible]

The Lion Guard AU

Concept:  Kion and the Lion Guard left the Pridelands shortly before Kiara's first hunt, maybe a season or so, when they received a rumor about a lion that might be the long-lost Prince Kopa deep in the Outlands.  That's why they aren't present in Simba's Pride.

Now, in The Lion Guard, Kion has the ability to talk to the Great Lions of the Past.  And in "The Rise of Scar", Janja, the new hyena leader, and Ushari, a cobra, figure out how to use his roar to bring back the *evil* lions of the past - AKA Scar.  Of course, he only manifests as a fiery ghost head, but he's still there.

Soooo, combine these things with my love for the Villain-Turned-Weird-Uncle trope, and my similar love for Scar as a villain and love of his backstory . . .And imagine this.

Kion and the Lion Guard return home with Kopa.  The Royal Family has a touching, joyous reunion.  There's tension between Kion and Kovu at first - he wants to know what this Outlander is doing in the Pridelands.  But Kiara prevents it from getting out of hand, jumping between them (Kovu is cowering because he doesn't want to start a fight with her brother) and explaining.  Kion easily accepts them back into the Pridelands and is happy to accept Kovu as a brother.  Kopa feels totally out of his depth, and he's nervous because of something else, but he's of course happy to be home, and his parents excited to see him.  Maybe Scar's Lion Guard is even found - say Scar's Roar threw them far, far away so they got lost, rather than dying.  Bring Nala's father back.  Then this happens:

"But there's someone else we found in the Outlands too, Dad." Kion said, brows furrowing. "Someone I think you'll need to meet.  But I want to explain exactly who he is first."    "Alright.  Who is it, Kion?" Simba asked, sitting down and listening willingly.    Kion sighed and sat down too. "Okay.  Every lion has a good side, and an evil side, right?  And it all depends on which side gets fed - whether it's by that lion, or by their surroundings."    "This is true." Rafiki approved.    Kion nodded. "Okay." He sighed. "Well, Scar was a lion, just like us.  He had a good and evil side too.  When he was young, an encounter with a hyena named Shenzi -"    "I remember Shenzi." Simba said grimly.    "Oye.  Me too." Timon groaned.    "I thought you liked her?" Pumbaa said blankly. "You proposed to her."    "I was talkin' crazy talk to distract her!" Timon waved his hands frantically.    "Oh."    Simba blinked at them. "Okay.  Continue, Kion."    Kion blinked too but then shook his head and continued. "An encounter with Shenzi poisoned his mind.  He was already an angry young lion, since Great Grandfather Ahadi named him Taka - garbage - and treated him like it, and his brother Mufasa was busy a lot preparing to be king.  So it wasn't that hard for Shenzi to turn him against them.  Great Grandmother Uru tried to raise him better, but he was young and pliable to Shenzi's tricks.  He eventually got more assertive and took over her pack, but by then, his evil side had taken over.  You all know what happened from there."     "What does this have to do with who you found in the Outlands, Kion?" Nala asked, frowning.     "I'm getting to that." Kion said, exchanging glances with the Lion Guard and Kopa. "So it turns out that my roar can be used to summon evil lions too - when combined with the power of a ??? staff." [OOC: Sorry, I have no idea how to spell the kind of staff that Rafiki and Makini use] "But when it's done improperly - like by a hyena and a cobra in a volcano - the lion can be split."     "Split?" Kiara echoed. "Split how?"     "I wondered too." Kion admitted. "But Ushari and Janja only summoned Scar's evil half to the volcano.  His good half was brought back too, in a physical form, and he got lost in the Outlands.  But without his evil half to balance him, he couldn't bring himself to hunt or make reasonable decisions.  And that's how Kopa found him." He nodded to his brother.    Kopa nodded nervously. "I didn't know who he was because he only called himself Taka.  I guess his good half isn't Scar.  But I knew he was starving and alone, so I helped him.  He was always really nice - too nice.  He couldn't hunt because he didn't want to hurt anyone.  He was always so sad when I asked about his past, so I quit asking before I realized."     Kion nodded, agreeing. "While we were in the Outlands, we were able to fix him, sorta.  His evil side tried to possess him again.  We were able to banish most of it, but enough of it got back into him to make him a more balanced lion.  He still has trouble hunting and he's still weak and pretty submissive, but he's better . . . and we brought him back."

    Basically, TLK/TLG/Novel series Scar returning to the Pridelands.  Alive.  And becoming the weird uncle that Simba always thought he was when he was a cub.  Mufasa clearly trusted him in TLK1 - he thought he was insolent and annoying, but he didn't doubt Scar's word or his worry when he reported that Simba was in the gorge.  So I submit that while Scar was definitely a villain, he played the doting uncle really well - and would love to see an AU where he returns to get to be that weird, doting uncle for real.

[analytic-chaoticism]

Night In The Woods - Witches, Astral Projection, Dissociation, and the Hole at the Center of Everything

Here’s my Night In The Woods theory out of left field because I love!!! this game! so! here we are. Lots of spoilers regarding literally everything so only read this if you’re familiar with at least one complete playthrough of the game. Sorry if this doesn’t have the best structure, I’m still trying to condense my thoughts on it all a bit but I wanted to get this out there!

The ending of Night In The Woods has seemed to confuse a lot of people, and I can understand why, because the deeper story elements can seem quite nebulous the first go through. But! fear not. I have some ideas that I’m throwing together here to hopefully consolidate some of the meaning and shine light on a plot a little more conclusive than what we have now. I’m not going to claim this is an original theory, because I’m new to the fandom and unfamiliar with any of the present conjecture, but I still wanted to share my ideas. I’ve only seen one playthrough of the game, so I’m unfamiliar with alternate choices, all of the evidence, and any of the companion game content, so if this interests anyone reading it more knowledgeable on the bigger picture of this universe please tell me what you know! Talk to me! 

There are 3 key parts of the plot that I’m going to tie together here: Mae’s issues with dissociation, her dream sequences, and the cult of the Black Goat. 

Part 1: Mae’s Issues

The focal point of this story is Mae’s struggle with mental health, namely depression, anxiety, and dissociation. To quote: “And suddenly, like, something broke. It was just like… pixels/No like… reality broke. The characters onscreen… Like I’d felt like I knew them… But they weren’t people anymore. They were just shapes. And their lines were just things someone had written/It was all just stuff. Stuff in the universe/When Andy stepped up it was like… And he was just shapes too. Just lines someone wrote.”

Mae very clearly outlines an abrupt and dramatic disconnect from reality. The important part here is understanding that this is not based on psychosis - wherein one becomes delusional and hallucinatory, replacing or reinventing reality - but ‘depersonalization-derealization.’ This is when someone feels detached from themselves (either simple self-estrangement or actually feeling as if they are a third person observer of themselves) and/or their surroundings. Depersonalization Disorder (DPD) could, then, sound like a bit of Mae. Dissociation is, largely, a coping mechanism for stress, so then it’s no surprise that dissociative disorders - here DPD - are usually developed after prolonged trauma or very traumatic events. Mae’s past is largely unknown to us, but from the sounds of things, the trauma that incited the onset of these dissociative issues were existential crises: her first break occurs after she loses sight of significance and meaning. Things are just shapes and predetermined lines, performing the functions they were made for until they stop, associating reality with a script more than a series of natural events. Everyone and everything is just a series of shapes and lines. This is a feeling I can understand. It deals with pointlessness and inevitability and whether free will actually matters or even exists at all, what the purpose of anything is, forgetting that everyone has a personal life and inner monologue just as complex and unfathomably large as your own, and reconciling your feelings with these thoughts and truths. Mae then goes on to discuss how her symptoms worsen whenever she’s around new places and new people by herself, and alludes to her journal as a sort of anchor. Now I’m not a trained psychologist, just a second year high school student who’s done some research and had some feelings, so I can’t for certain say the significance of this? Maybe consolidating things, thoughts, and feelings, helps ground them in reality? On paper, from her hand, they’re somehow more real, more significant? Something immutable that she has made which condenses and validates her experiences - at the end of everything, hold onto anything. With all of her dream sequences being very spacey and barren, all the talks about stars and the spaces between them (and the meanings we give them, something which would be V important here and explain why she likes constellations so much), and the (black) hole at the center of everything are all things that deal with distance and emptiness, which is something to keep in mind in regards to all that. So! That’s our backgrounding on Mae and the key to the premise of this theory. 

Part The Second: Mae’s Dream Sequences - The Astral Plane

Mae’s dream sequences are really cool, and I can’t tell you what all their constituent parts are. All I know is that they feature amalgamations of Possum Springs and her university. I think it’s worth mentioning here that the songs for her dream sequences start with Astral, even Astral Train, which rhymes with Astral Plane, which is where we’re headed on this journey together. 

So there’s a lot of significance to Mae’s dreams, ranging from the first sequence we see where she destroys a looooooooot of things, to the all-important talking with God, and you could make a lot of connections to different things (including her issues with dissociation and how they manifested), but that’s not quite my angle per se. Mae’s dreams are astral projections: her soul left her body and traveled through reality, where she would encounter the star giants, and ultimately God, as well as find the Black Goat. Astral projection, in and of itself - when one’s soul wanders through existence separate from the body (which ties in to Mae’s wandering tendencies nicely) - is very similar to dissociation: the soul (seems to) leaves the body, severed from the confines of physical reality. Through astral projection, it is thought that you can encounter higher powers, such as God, which Mae did. During her conversation with God, they alluded to the ‘hole at the center of everything’ and showed her visions of eldritch beings who - because I’m a Homestuck - we’ll refer to as Horrorterrors. 

Now it could be said that there aren’t actually any mystical forces at play in NITW, considering Mae - with her mental illnesses - makes for somewhat of an unreliable narrator, but it’s undeniable that Eide possessed supernatural abilities from an unbiased perspective (with all 4 friends present), and I’ve seen cut content featuring Germ’s grandma where she predicts Mae’s future regarding the cult of the Black Goat and discusses how she started ‘walking in her dreams’ once the mine shut down and the Hole opened. So we have God, the Horrorterrors, the eldritch horror that is the Black Goat (who I believe to be inspired by the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young from the Lovecraft mythos). We also have two related figures to back them up: the witch and the Forest God.

Now, astral projection features in Wicca, and before that, a variety of other religions pagan or otherwise. Wicca is the practice of witchcraft, which we see reflected in the witch of Possum Springs, who could have been drawn to the area because of the slumbering Black Goat, or - if they weren’t in Possum Springs already - somehow have summoned them there through their practices. One of the primary two Wicca deities is the Horned God, god of nature, wilderness, sexuality, hunting, and the life cycle. He can be reflected in both the Black Goat, as the Horned God so often appears to be, or in the Forest God who banishes the witch to “wander the stranger places” with the “ghosts” which also sounds a lot like astral projection. Either way, there seems to be a lot of pagan imagery going on here (and the janitor is a whole theory in and of himself). 

The important part to take away from all this is that Mae’s dreams and otherworld events aren’t just in her head: they are real, as is God, the Horrorterrors, and the Black Goat (but if you wanted to argue the delusional dissociation theory I’m down for that too). I think something important to note is that when Mae was pulled into the hole through the river, Gregg described her as looking like she was sleep-walking, which she would be, if her soul had left her body to travel across dimensions. 

Part Fuck Man: The Cult Of The Black Goat

Now this is where we start to tie things together. 

The cult of the Black Goat all share something very important with Mae: they’re displaced. Displaced in society. Displaced in time. They’re disillusioned by the contemporary era and are scared for their dying back-end town. They’re depressed, anxious, and dissociative. This is how the Black Goat gets you. The weak and vulnerable, with wandering souls. It calls to you in your sleep, much like the Horrorterrors, whispering to you, like any outer god. A dark, enigmatic, ineffable, cosmic, selfish force. 

And so, like every cosmic horror who manages to tear a hole in the fabric of reality with its dark, dark hooves, hiding within an interidmensional pit in the abandoned mine of your abandoned town, it makes pacts with the vulnerable residents it can prey upon within their astrally vulnerable dreams. Whether or not it actually makes the town prosper - if it even has the sort of power something so intricate and unquantifiable like that requires (though it is worth mentioning that material wealth is the easiest to get from these things because it just becomes a matter of equivalent exchange) - it convinced the cult to throw people into the tear to feed it. In reward, some got abilities, most notably Eide. Throughout his appearances we see him use intangibility - whether it be during the Harfest kidnapping or jumping us in the mines (which would require him to faze through solid rock because he definitely didn’t use the elevator to appear out of nowhere). 

Nowhere as in he literally appears out of nowhere. During this sequence everything starts going dark and the lights are flickering. Perhaps there’s some connection between his powers and darkness, which would make sense, considering their origin. 

Before this you could have written the paranormal off: ‘Mae’s an untrustworthy narrator with mental issues and the game is a series of delusions’ or (as the article in the library mentions) ‘everyone is bugging out on mine gas’ (which is such a flop theory because to share a specific, collective hallucination for so long is SOOOOOO improbable and the nature of the people selected is too evident of a pattern yet random i.e. - Mae was never in the mines and nobody else in town was affected by the gas besides the cult, but both of these parties have mental issues and supposed astral travel capabilities making them vulnerable to cosmic interference). But here we have it. The elevator doesn’t move in these few seconds at all. The whole group is there. The narrative is not untrustworthy as long as they are there, experiencing events. This moment cannot be a hallucination, because one of them would have noticed the elevator moving, even though we can clearly see it wouldn’t have had the time to in the frames of darkness knowing how slowly it moves. Irrefutably, there is paranormal bullshit going down in Possum Springs involving the Black Goat. It preys on the mentally vulnerable and detached in their dreams, and offers them power and material gain in exchange for food. Typical Horrorterror stuff. 

So what does it mean

You know what? I’m not sure what it means. 

For one, it means everything actually happened. 'Mae’s total psychological break down' and 'a variety of hallucinations' are neither interesting explanations story-wise, nor the story I think this game was trying to tell. I think mental illness and what happened went hand-in-hand, but in a more causal nature, or a symbiotic relationship kinda thing, not just one over the other. I wish I had something really profound to say about it but I don’t think I’ve got that far. I think the hole in the center of everything is relatively omnipresent, like a disease. It exists in the literal center of everything, it manifested in Possum Springs, and it consumes the affected residents from the inside out. I think it’s a metaphor for Mae’s issues as much as the Horrorterror stuff is related to them, so it has a bunch of meanings. 

In the end all that matters is that everyone’s hopefully going to get better.

I don’t think she closed the hole yet, but I think she’s working on it, and I think there are good people who can help her. 

A hole that doesn’t care, and people who do.

If you have any relevant ideas or perhaps more of a satisfying conclusion, or you just wanna talk about things, please! do! I would love to talk about this or this game with peeps so HMU if you’re interested God bless. Perhaps theory isn’t quite the right word for whatever this analyzation is, but here we are anyway. This game means a lot to me, so I wanted to put my thoughts down and get them out there. 

Thanks for reading!

[nicksstoryvault]

Being a young alpha wolf had given Bucky a boundless delight of unlimited freedom; he felt the infinite ecstasy surging through his canine form as he openly embraced the sense of uncharted purity and vastness that his new domain offered. It was his kingdom of isolation to roam. He was safe from the merciless tentacles of HYDRA that leaked cold venom into his veins; able to raise his three pups without the clashing of the dark storms he faced as a tortured man.

Accepting this existence was an eternal divide from humanity, Bucky was cursed to live as a wolf, harness the untamed power of the wild and become a stalking wraith in the shadows. Hunting game wasn't easy, he didn't have an automatic sniper rifle, he wasn't armed with combat knives...His canine body was an apex weapon, a cunning and masterful predator of death and menace, contending with irresistible impulses of bloodlust.

Though he tried to discard the savage and relentless instincts to kill a targeted deer, his pups needed raw meat-it was vital for their survival, he needed to slay every week to feed their bellies. Sometimes he succeeded with a perfect killing bite, and other times he opted to scavaging leftovers from a pack's victorious kill before ravens devoured the meat. Today, Bucky was hellbent on mastering his hunting tactics, he spent a good hour outside his den, embracing the rhythmic flow of lethal harmony -his fangs were daggers and his agility an unstoppable force, but he lacked discipline, too hesitant to allow the wolf to overcome him.

Getting low on his furred haunches, Bucky listened to subdued murmurs of the forest and adorable squeaks of his dozing litter, lifting his long muzzle skyward and inhale the fresh scents of the morning. Squirrels were an exception for an easy meal, mostly the chubby ones. He needed bigger game.

"C'mon Buchanan, you gotta dig deep..." he growled heatedly, shifting his luminous steel-blue depths to a rotting log coated with lime green moss, oblivious that his display of brutal precision was being watched from the shadows of his den.

Locking onto a small rodent's scent, the massive alpha advanced in methodical and strutting paw-steps; cursing under his low breath as a potent thought of greasy-mouthwatering hamburger loaded with pickles breached his senses...Mmm, pickles. "Urgh, there's gotta an easier way of doin' this..."

Feeling a pulse of instinct surge through him, Bucky approached like a shadow of a knife, cutting into the hazy ray of sunlight. His pointed ears flattened, as he sniffed the pervading stench of rodent fur -either a bunny or squirrel emerging cluelessly into his kill zone. He didn't care-the impending kill was necessary, and his babies were depending on him. Stalking towards the undergrowth of bushes, he jutted his muzzle out, unerringly detecting a reachable trace of scent. His bushy tail straightened and muscles went stiff as he cemented his paws. He waited for his prey to poke out from the log. "C'mon, I don't have all day here," he vexed menacingly, not realizing that vicious snarl erupted, awakening something that was very dangerous and patient.

Brennen watched with unblinking eyes, the rush of excitement running through him was becoming so intense, he had foregone hiding himself behind the shrubbery and stood further out to get a better view of his father. "Get em', daddy! Get em'!" The little pup squeaked and barked spirited, bouncing on his little paws with sparkling eyes. He was oblivious to the chilling slithers of an encroaching predator, the likes of which he had never seen, moving through the shrubs and a cold and methodical pace. Venomous eyes latched onto his chubby little form, deeming him as easy prey.

A cold wake of dread suddenly pierced through Bucky's heart, he froze as his ears pricked upwards, listening to the alarming volume of constant rattle echoing in the dense shadow of the trees. He pivoted on his paws, casting a sharpened glare of his glacial blue orbs on the slithering presence approaching towards a reeling direction where squeaky yips played out. It was a distinctive and boyish giggle that he immediately recognized in a heartbeat: his little guy- detka.

Feeling his predator's edge quickly dull out by detachment towards the immense love of his son, breath lessened for a moment, as Bucky felt immobilized to budge as if he was falling back into the cryo chamber with Zola's hand pushing cruel force against his thunderous heart. "Bren-No, get out of here!" he rang out a frantic howl. His eyebrows fleetingly arched to the wideness of his livid eyes. Panic was spiking to unrestrained level. He barred his fangs, sucking back heavy intakes of air. His cinder furred visage colored by raging cries, pulse was deafening in his ears. Vivid clarity of memories of Sergeant Barnes delivering out his orders to his 107th division in the middle of HYDRA's warpath flared with his subconscious, he lost so many good men-friends when blinding strikes of blue energy leveled them into piles of ash.

The same unquashable sickness churned in his tensed belly. He wouldn't lose the most precious thing in his world, not his baby boy. The ache in his chest was mounting rapidly as he caught sight of the poisonous rattler coiling to thrust a lethal strike at his defenseless pup.

Sensing the snake's proximity of assault, Bucky drew out a warning snarl, his gaze unwavering to the snake's cold and soulless orbs. It was like staring into a reflection of HYDRA. A lifeless void. One bite and his son would fade away from his reach. Maybe he could sacrifice himself, shield Brennen and become the snake's victim of venomous precision. Heated tears welled in his glacial pools, as he called out his pup, challenging the snake's intent. "Fall back, kiddo...Do it now!"

The desperate barks coming from his father had only confused the wolfing whose jubilant spirit was still thriving with anticipation. He wondered briefly what his daddy was so uptight about and why he didn't want him watching. And yet, somewhere in the back of his thoughts, he couldn't help a nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. The feeling festered into it manifested into a chill in mere seconds as he heard the shuddering noise of something lethal and unseen. "What's wrong, dadd—" An explosion of fire suddenly jolted from the little pup's frontal limb, that was as potent as a knife piercing his body. A yelp of pain followed by a terrified squeal permeated the airwaves, and little Brennen Barnes suddenly felt all sensation in his body evaporated into a shuddering mess of heat. "D-D-Daddy…" he whines, falling to the ground just in time to see the most terrifying and soulless black eyes he'd ever seen, gazing down at him from the body of an ugly lizard that had no arms or legs. What it had, was the most lethal set of fangs gleaming from its parted mouth. The thin trick of red dripping from it revealed to the helpless pup who his attacker was.

"No--Brennen!!" A roar erupted out of Bucky's depths, blank horror reflected in his livid steel-blue orbs as he stared at his second born curling into a fetal position, shivering in convulsing spasms against torrents of venom. His baby was dying --in minutes, he would lose his son. Growling viciously against his bared fangs, Bucky locked his murderous penetration onto the rattler, seething out drool as his vision flared into heated crimson. He was blinded with pulsating rage. Every fiber in his canine form tensed as he glared intensely at the snake. Within seconds of unleashing full momentum, Bucky lunged into the bush, allowing his savage instincts possess his cessation motion, and seized that hissing --cold-blooded-- demon into the clench of his gaping jaws. He clamped down hard, feeling the snake thrash violently--he didn't relent. His fangs struck deeper into scales until he ripped off the head with a lethal slice. The severed head dropped to the ground with a resounding thump, as the slithering body stilled. He threw the corpse away from his sight, and quickly went to his little guy, panting out hastened volumes of distress. He nudged his long muzzle gently over his pup's back, praying he was conscious. "Bren---you gotta stay with Daddy, M' gonna make you feel better." 

Brennen could barely hear his father's words that sounded like they were going farther away, or maybe the opposite. He felt like he was drifting below water, the world around him spun and he felt only the unshakable need to close his eyes and to rest. The darkness felt comforting but also so very wrong. His blue eyes struggle to remain open as they glisten with tears. "I'm tryin', daddy…" he squeaks in a weak voice. He felt more than just pain in this moment, he felt utter disappointment in himself about what he let happen. "S-Sorry, I in't listen…" He shivers, a coldness had begun to envelop him then as if he were stuck in a pile of snow. He could barely see the dark shape of his father looming over him, licking his muzzle with reassurance and to keep him awake.

Feeling his son's heartbeat lessening, Bucky froze like a block of ice, there was no way of describing the influx of pain that crushed over his thunderous heart. It hurt to breathe. A spike of dread punctured him, as he bled on the inside.

Lowering down onto his belly, Bucky reached for his limp pup with a sharp thrust of his forepaw, gliding Brennen close to his broad chest, and rested his head over the pup's timorous and pudgy form. He became motionless in the drifts of muted panic, feeling a throb squeezing so tightly as heated, unbidden tears leaked rapidly over his cinder fur. His blood morphed into sludge as fading-pained whimpers ghosted out of Brennen's tiny muzzle.

"S'okay, kiddo," he soothed brokenly, his Brooklyn timbre sounded brotherly-pacifying, as he nuzzled his snout against Brennen with all the strength and hope he salvaged in that moment he realized his world was ending. He was doing his damnedest not to become subdued with heartache-he needed to believe in the impossible.

Lifting his head up skyward, Bucky held back another rush of blurring tears, unashamedly whispering out a cherishing memory to ease the pain. "Y'know when Daddy was carryin' you and your sisters, you were the first one I felt...Boy, did you put me on the ropes...I know you were strong then, and you are now, Bren..." He sniffed closing his eyes to seal away the grim reality before him.

He grimaced tautly as pain wouldn't abate, detecting the corrosive stench of venom wafting from the bite mark gouged in his baby's limb. A halo of sunlight cast over Brennen's dark chestnut fur, bringing radiance over his infant form, a restoring caress that harbored empowering warmth to thaw out the iciness of dread."M never going t-to let you go, my brave boy."

The warmth that Brennen felt at his father's proximity lessened the shuddering sensation of loneliness he felt. He didn't want to be alone. Even though there were times he thought he wanted to be, he knew with absolute certainty now that he needed his family—his daddy and his sisters, to keep him on his paws. To make him feel loved and safe. But right now he was filled with a stifling sensation of helplessness that came with the burning he felt in his body, and the cloudiness in his head. He wanted to yell out, to tell his daddy how sorry he was for sneaking out, to tell him how much he wanted to be him, and how much he loved him. But his voice felt dry as if he hadn't drunk anything in a long time. His father's words though, gave him the courage not to feel afraid. To feel strong, and not weak. To feel like the brave boy his daddy believed he was. Burying his muzzle deep into the crook of his dad's arm, the wolfling shuddered as tears streaked from his eyes. "Not weak…Strong…" he murmured into his daddy's arm. He continued to shake and shiver, not so much this time out of pain, but out of defiance. Something within him had begun to stir from a dormant state, like a valiant steed daring to charge against the storm waging. His body began to feel cooler, the burning was subsiding as it was diminished by a rejuvenating force from within. "Daddy…I feel…" The pups whispers, his voice suddenly much stronger than it was moments before.

Hearing the slurring recede in his chubby pup's determined squeaky voice, as impending dread encompassed over his hammering heart, Bucky's pointed ears pricked up, as his teary steel-blue depths glanced tentatively down at his wounded baby huddled against his fore-leg. His listless eyes widened, alarmingly, as he barely progressed his turbulent emotions, Brennen's voice brought an anchoring sense of relief steering him out of the damning void of despair; and that's when he felt it. A dominant nexus of strength and vitality, heavy surges of unlimited -enhanced power flowing rapidly in his little guy's veins. The super-serum.

Bucky parted his long muzzle, drawing out a shaky breath, as he soulfully mirrored Brennen's stare of frosted azure and heated steel. A glimpse of restored hope that eased down his throbbing heart. "Yeah, you feelin' better, huh, kiddo?" He couldn't restrain his bushy tail from wagging, the convergence of the serum birthed new strength-life within his pup. "Do you feel that pal, cause you've got Daddy's strength now...Which means you're gonna be okay."

"…Strong." Brennen says, continuing his unfinished thought from moments ago, though his father's hopeful words still registered in his ears. "I feel strong, daddy." Brennen sniffed as he finally felt the resolve to lift his head up from his father's arm. There were two streaming lines of wet fur beneath his glistening eyes. He could feel the throbbing sting on his frontal limb begin to disappear. Better than that, he could feel his mobility returning at the same time. The icy dread the little pup felt inside about his impending end was beginning to melt the longer he remained still, almost afraid that at any moment now, the pain would come back. But it didn't. Whining softly, the pup raises his afflicted limb, and tests its mobility. The pain he felt wasn't intense, in fact, it was going away faster than he could think. "I'm okay…I'm…" The pup whispers, in awe torn between emotional relief and exuberance until the tumultuous storm of emotions manifested into a whiny sob of joy. "I'm okay, daddy!" The little pup barks with joy, crashing against his father's leg.

"Yes, you are, my malysh (baby boy)," Bucky returned with equal jovial ease, his voice lowered into soft Russian timbre that caressed his pup's drenched chestnut fur. The unbidden onslaught of gouging heartache receded from his depths; he couldn't restrain the heated tears welling in his glacial blue orbs, dire memories of snake attack vanished when he curved his forepaw over Brennen's small back. The venomous wake of death no longer grasped his baby's rebellious spirit-his life blood, the unbridled and feral essence of the Winter Soldier spared a life; instead of taking one. Lowering his muzzle to a tentative level, he nudged Brennen's tiny head playfully, conveying his restored happiness. He parted his jaws and whispered out a soulful confession that defined their loving bond. "You don't know how much I love you, kiddo, and I want you to know that Daddy will always have you back..." He graced Brennen's stubby muzzle, stroking a trek of the warmth of his tongue over the pup's whiskered snout."So, if you get your paws stuck in the mud, M' gonna be there to pull ya out."

The wolfling sniffed, overjoyed not just at the fact he survived the ugly lizard's attack, but that his daddy loved him so much to show this side of him. Ordinarily, the wolf pup thought mushy moments such as these were icky and only meant for softies like Rora or Mattie. He was supposed to be tough and not let anything get to him. Just like his daddy. It wasn't until now that Brennen realized there was more to being tough than just fighting bad guys and being a big scary wolf. Being tough meant not being afraid to show what you felt, especially to those you looked up to. "I love you too, daddy," he sniffed, raising his paw to wipe away the flow of tears that remained on his muzzle. "I want to be to just like you when I'm big. That's why I came out here," he pipes up, bouncing on his paws as the excitement he felt earlier began to rise to the surface.

Hearing such potent words fall innocently from his young pup's muzzle, Bucky was seemingly taken aback, he became motionless, feeling numbing prick spear through his heart, a frosted blade of unsuppressed guilt that pierced deeper each time his ventured back into the dismal abyss. An entire lifetime of countless death, torturous nightmares, and cold slumber. He avowed to never reveal that monstrous part of himself; not the ruthless and unhinged phantasm who was reborn by a lightning strike and delivered succession with every kill shot. He was haunted every day by the violent imagery his detached-scarred mind conjured up, and the unwavering scent of blood never left him.

Pinching his eyes tautly shut, Bucky lifted his canine head to the gravity of restraint, abandoning every influx pulse of rage; he strove for calmness--humanity, but a sudden rush of unbidden, pained tears broke that stubborn resolve. What had been a blithe moment of tangible closeness with his feisty little guy had morphed into a duel of unabated torment within himself. There was harm for a boy to look up to his father, he did the same, but this was an unparallel existence that bounded him into a void of thralldom, Brennen carried his visage and hellbent spirit, but not the lethal darkness that edged over his heart.

Dragging out a sigh to disguise a throated sob, Bucky professed with a contrite resonance, ghosting with a vehement snarl. "You can't be like Daddy, Bren," he whispered haltingly, grounding his paws firmer into the earth. "Hell, I don't want you to be like me..." He swallowed down hard, knowing that he could only have a limited-condemning answer to deliver to such innocent ears. "Daddy's not a good wolf, y'know those scary monsters that you kinda see in your dreams, I used to be one of em'..."

The weight of the confession coming from his father's lips not only puzzled Brennen, it rendered him speechless for a long moment. The thrum of his excitement still bubbled beneath the surface, but he suddenly found himself without a means of expressing his exuberance beneath the tortured gaze of his father—the only one in the world he looked up to. Shifting on his paws, the dark-furred pup gives his alpha a side-long look, "But you're not like that anymore. Are you, daddy?" He says with a pinch of hope in his eyes, his muzzle wrinkling with ardent sniffs. He didn't want to see his daddy like this. Not sad, and not full of doubt. The pain of remorse the wolfing felt in his chest was almost staggering, he releases a soft whine at the sensation. "You're not a monster. You're my hero." He barks, his depths of his blue eyes were filled with belief and resolve. He'd seen the beasts his daddy fought in the forest as he protected him and his sisters each day. The awe he felt was only outmatched by the love in his heart.

"Nah, M' not a hero, Bren," Bucky wrenched out a sniffle, feeling genuinely appalled with himself; the little male pup deserved warmth and unshackled happiness, something that he craved to embrace when the abysmal horrors of his restricted past emerged from the dark vaults of his murderous--destructive spirit. He was aware that Brennen was trying to ease the perpetual anguish that besieged him daily, sometimes the graphic imagery of his missions were too uncontrollable--heartrending to subdue, he never wanted his pups to know how messed up--damaged he was under the guise of the wolf. He didn't want to taint their pure light from the darkness harboring within. Whimpering out a pathetic squeak, he lowered his head, nuzzling his little tike smoothly, keeping him shielded against the broad expanse of his furred chest, just relishing the tangible closeness of a small heartbeat. "You see, kiddo, Daddy, well...uh...M' kinda like a soldier, and my mission is to protect and love you little furballs who just love to order me around." He quirked his muzzle into a boyish smirk, giving Brennen a wet lick, playfully over his back."Don't ya?"

Awash with warmth from his father's embrace, Brennen released a faint chuckle against his fur as he was besieged with small playful licks. "That's mostly Rora, daddy. She's the bossy one," he yips with a slight indignation. "But if you're a soldier, daddy. Then you're a good one." He understood only a fraction of his father's meaning between heroes and soldiers who fought for different things in different ways. But the little pup couldn't shake the feeling sheer admiration in his bones, even if he tried to. "I saw how to took down that snake. Can you show me how to hunt like you do, daddy? Can you show me, huh?!" The pup nearly bounced on his paws with excitement at the thought.

"Okay, Malen'kiy soldat (little soldier), Bucky drew out a hearty snort, feeling Brennen's uncontainable, headstrong enthusiasm reach new levels, the aggressive yips doused out the heated tension coiling in his veins, those boyish volumes only seemed to amplify by the second. It was a tempting blaze of innocence that he would be damned to discard.

Recoiling back, the young alpha cemented his paws over the moist ground, accordingly to his feral instincts, he balanced his bulked weight into a sniper stance, feeling a surge of dominance returning, his furred visage grew impassive--deadened. He willed himself to engage. Claws dug into the earth, arresting every beating pulse of the awakening forest, evoking the tactical, 

lethal enforcer inside to comply with the command of his impending mission. He thrust his long muzzle outwards, claiming a ripe scent of a wandering rodent. He glanced sharply back at his baby pup, his frosted steel-blue orbs gleamed with leveled fatherly tenderness as he delivered the extent of his instructions. "So...um, what you gotta do first, Bren, is get a whiff of your target, know your distance in the kill zone and then gun for it, never hold back, kiddo." 

Fascinated yet eager, the wolfing followed his father's instructions as he lowers his muzzle to the Earth and begins to audible sniff the area for any signs of prey. The excitement that he felt was floored as he suddenly catches a whiff of something repugnant close by. "Pew! Daddy, this smells like skunk." The wolfing barks with a comical twitch to his nose. He runs in a circle, eager to find some way of washing away the lingering scent until he finds himself diving his nose near a bush with daisies. Almost immediately, the wolfing relaxes. "Much…" The relief washes away and instead, a fogginess comes over both his eyes and muzzle. "A…A…Achoo!!" Throughout the forest, birds fly from their trees in alarm.

"That's so adorable," Bucky emitted a boyish chuckle, deep at the edges but genuinely soft to reassure his pup that he was relishing the moment. He felt a beaming warmth tug at his muzzle, as he flashed Brennen was a fanged smile, piercing through his luminous steel-blue depths, the countenance of menace faded into free youth, revealing the enkindling light of his imprisoned soul. He stalked methodically closer to the area of blooming white petal daisies, still intensity aware of the dangers that loomed in the shadows. He lowered his muzzle, playfully inhaling a whiff, as pollen smeared a yellow stain on his nose. "Woah, that's a pretty good smell..." He flashed his eyes with a mischievous glint at Brennen who ducked shyly into the bed of flowers. "Y'know that Daddy's favorite smell is your puppy fur," A ravenous growl erupted from his throat, as he pretended to hungrily lick his chops." Oh yeah, this big bad wolf could just eat you all up right now, kiddo."

Detecting the playful edge that entered his father's voice, the young wolf was filled with a mischievousness that brought him renewed joy and excitement. Thoughts of hunting prey were for the moment washed aside and he wanted nothing more than to have fun with his daddy. "Nu-uh, daddy! Can't eat me!" He barks, running in circles before hiding behind a small bush. Hype and adrenaline waged through his small form as he watches daddy play the role of hunter, until the wolfling pounces from the shrubs of greenery. "Rrarrrr, I got you, daddy!!" He playful roars landing on his father's massive back then proceeds to playfully nip at his ear.

"Woah," Bucky dramatically screamed as he gradually lowered down into the blades of moist grass and daisies, mindful of his pup who latched himself over the broad expanse of his furred shoulders. The needle-point puppy fangs tugging at his seized ear felt like a sheet in the wind compared to the extent of the pain he endured within hellish decades of being unmade -dismantled into a lethal killing machine, functioning by the static command that followed in sync with the red leather book that held Soviet trigger words to unleash the unmerciful delivery of soul-torn compliance.

Now, he responded to a new command, something far more powerful that made his condemned heart soar to unmeasurable heights-Daddy. As he felt the gravity of his boyish spirit pulling him down, it was like a redeeming and intoxicating wave release caressing against his chestnut fur; the steady crescendos of his heartbeat detonated an explosive surge of freedom. A prevailing blaze of tenderness bled through his menacing countenance; he was damn certain that nothing compared to snuggled warmth of his son's everlasting love--acceptance. He was reaching the zenith of unhampered ease; feeling like a hellbent--indestructible Brooklyn kid again, unbound and utterly free to roll on his back, fall into a realm of childish euphoria.

Arching his back into a conformable position, the young alpha stared intently at Brennen tumbling clumsily over his thickened length of his swollen girth, knifing his tiny paws fleetingly into layers of dark fur, as if he was strutting with deadly calculation in his determined paw steps. He couldn’t resist smiling, beamingly, at his pup’s display of mastering the Winter Soldier’s termination strut. "Hey, take an easy there, little killer, “ Bucky snorted out a laugh deeply, throwing a coltish grin rashly at his snickering pup.  His cool steel-blue irises amplified a wattage of luminous intensity, as his brows wagged. “You gotta watch those claws they ...um...kinda dug into Daddy in all the wrong places...” Brennen tilted his head, looking a tad confused which left Bucky feeling equally dumbfounded, he soothed a forepaw reverently over the adamant pup’s chubby form, holding him well-balanced on his stomach. “I mean s’just keep em’ above my gut level, okay kiddo?"

Brennen was confounded by his daddy’s show of discomfort until the meaning of his words became clearer to him. The wolfling had noticed for weeks now how his daddy was protecting his tummy whenever he went to bed or woke up. Rora always told him to be careful around daddy, that he was carrying extra weight that made his tummy ache. The male wolfling had always shrugged off his sister’s bossy attitude, but never once expected to see how much that part of his daddy ached if he touched it.

“Okay, daddy. I’ll be careful.” Brennen says, bobbing his head apologetically yet still maintaining an air of warm fun. Rather than let himself feel discouraged by his proximity to his father, Brennen felt much closer than he ever did. Today was a day he would always remember in his times of loneliness and uncertainty. He still believed in his heart his daddy wasn’t just a hero, he was the strongest and coolest dad ever. He felt so lucky.

Making his way over, the wolfling buries his head against his father’s chest, finding the warm fur to be comfortable as well as reassuring. "That better, daddy?"

"Yeah," Bucky drew out a breathless sigh, basking within the uncharted emotional nexus that pulled him beyond his vestiges of contentment; he felt conquerable against the prevalent force of his demons, the abiding--pure love that nestled against his heart evoked defiance to face the coming days--months. Palpable levity traced his faint wistful smirk, as he savored the heaviness of his pup's weight instinctively burrowing into his furred chest, broadening up the damnable reality that everything that drove his heart to ache moments before, faded with bursts of latching devotion. Humming up his throat, Bucky curved his head slight, just enough to rest his muzzle gently on his baby boy's head, shielding him with possessive heat as guarded emotions seemingly faltered. "I gotta tell ya, Bren, you're more like Daddy than you know..." He murmured, soulfully deep, his timbre smooth as melting butter, edged with graveled shadow of menace--echoes of the unyielding soul beyond the wolf. He wanted more than anything for his little guy to live a free life---and never fall into the battle zone of darkness. "You've got my fire and spirit, that will keep on gettin' stronger as you get bigger and it's up to you, kiddo, to make sure that no one takes it from ya." 

Listening to the steadiness of breeze slicing through the evergreens, Bucky closed his eyes, greedily breathing in the puppy scent wafting off Brennen's downy fur, unknowingly smiling as his tongue glided a soothing trek over the snake bite---a reminder that his son would be a hellbent fighter until the end of the line. “You were a brave little guy today, Bren,” he whispered soothingly in a monotonous tone, nudging the pup’s chubby rear with his snout. A calming serenity returned to him, the dark storm of dread had passed. He was no longer in disarray of anguish--his detka was radiating with dynamic inrushes of the serum, flushing out the last remnants of venom, as he felt Brennen’s tiny muzzle whisking along the sharp edge of his lax jaw. Faint drowsy coos and squeaks revealed to Bucky that his baby pup was content and warm---alive. Smiling lazily with quirks tugging at his muzzle, Bucky just settled his bulked weight deeper into the dewy grass, not allowing pulses of uncertainty to steal away this redeeming--beautiful moment of peacefulness with his son. Nothing ever felt so rewarding.

[igiveyouanumbrella-blog]

Shackled

Characters: Apostasia, Lord Knight

Words Count: 2974

Rating: Some blood, descriptions of injuries, some sadness. Elrios isn’t a kind place.

[Technically is connected to x, but to be honest you can treat this as a separate story. ]

There are times when he wondered if Gods make humans so foolish on purpose. 

1.

For a being borne out of divinity, he cannot understand its enchantment to the point of attracting worship.

Watching the Dark El crumbles before his eyes, its fragments scattering through air like flocks of songbirds orchestrating their funeral songs, he ponders the falsity of a potential salvation. What’s there in a title of a God, if Her powers has failed to reach the core of her most trusted servant?

(Is he still? He doesn’t know.)

The Goddess is not absolute. The Goddess is not all-encompassing. The thoughts, the hurt, they travel up his disfigured skin and taint him with disappointment, until he could do nothing but to dirty his hands with black blood for camouflage.

2.

He remembers being young.

He remembers Her voice too, when it sounds so much like music in his ears and not like a string of empty promises. She whispers importance into his being by motioning his gaze toward the other siblings who are still diluted lights with their fates unwritten. Like a fool, he places himself up the pedestal, looking down without realizing the perch is shallow.

He doesn’t know why She tells him to abandon feelings, to rescind from attachment, but does not take away the blooming pride in his chest. If she did let him be void of emotions, perhaps things could have turned out differently. But time doesn’t rewind for anyone, not even for a being abandoned by its own Absolute.

A scythe manifests and drowns everything in dark emptiness. Screams of demons turn into silence, alongside remnant whispers of regret. A fallen Celestial will relieve everything of all pains.

He can’t quite say this lingering wanting is strong enough to form a purpose, but It might keep him awake for a while longer.

3.

He encounters that mop of red hair while slaying down hordes of demons in a ransacked temple, their screams deafening the flutter of syllables tumbling out the other boy’s mouth caused by a slash of their claws.

What is this boy’s name, again? He doesn’t remember much about his past as a divine being, not anymore. Muddles of thoughts and emotions have become too much to bear over the years, so he tried quelling them down the void so many times until they become too vestigial to be recalled. However, now, the unease over his lack of remembrance seeps into his bones and makes them ache.

The boy’s body is in a horrible state, with liquids redder than his own hair tainting the iron armor in various gaping holes. His face looks older than the last time Ain has seen it, but his frame folds up like the vessel of a small child. 

“Ain…You’re…Ain. Right?” He shakes his head, but then stops the motion when the redhead gasps, choking on his own blood. In a distance, there are some voices other than demon screams beginning to filter into the chamber- the boy’s friends’. He resists a hiss, not wanting to let in more unnecessary disturbances to his supposed uneventful routine.

A gloved hand clutches his tainted wrist, making the blue marks hiss and the eyes engraved on his body growl. The boy’s mere presence is so disgustingly holy- the El- that he wants to flinch, before it dissipates when exhausted fingers eventually let go.

“Refrain from calling me by that name.” He mutters, picks up that familiar body, and dissipates into emptiness. For there’s no need to follow any rationality or reason; the only guiding light is the bubbling of something in the gaping hole that’s used to house his heart.

4.

Glave cackles at him when red blood spills on the floor of Henrir’s space like wine on glass, his gold eyes gleam with amusement.

“And I thought celestials are meant to be cold.”

“But I am not a celestial anymore,” he replies, and the man howls. A confused blink, then the sound of armor hits the space between them to snap Glave out of his mirth. If there’s one feeling he still remembers to express, that’s impatience.

“Heal him.”

“…Why didn’t you leave him be?”

“I don’t know.” A pause, “He was clinging onto my arms.” He corrects himself.

“I don’t like to aid the near-death, you know. Too many complications,” The air around them shifts and turns chilly, hisses resounding through the cold. Glave pauses when he saw the eyes on his body turned bloodshot, ready for destruction in resonance with his bubbling anger. “Then again, I also dislike fighting needless battles.” None of them do, really. Isn’t that why they all hide themselves in this virtual nothingness- to shut their eyes toward the physical world?

And yet, looking at the pool of red on his hands, he wonders what it takes for the child before him to readily throw himself into pointless conflicts, and what compels him to savage that flickering life in the first place.

But he cannot think too deeply, as all his mind can register is the faint cadence of the boy’s heartbeat.

5.

Glave warned that the aura in Henrir will cause harm to the armored boy, so he carries him out of the oppressive dimension into someplace more suitable for human occupation: the outskirts of Ruben. The bright sun burns his back and the green grass itch his skin, but he waits and stares at the way the boy’s chest move up and down, up and down, up and—

Until the claymore’s edge flash across his eyes and grazes his cheek. Ah, he recalls this boy’s speed has always been swift when it comes to destruction-a result borne from cruel expectations in an imperfect world.

“Are you…Ain? Or a demon that looks like him?” The boy’s eyes are as sharp as his sword, burning into the disfigured blue marks on his skin and the hissing eyes on his shell. His frame is still small, but the armor brings in more weight, more rigidity in his movement- the epitome of a perfect soldier fighting for a cause.

“I’m not Ain,” he insists in monotony; that name bears no relevance now. “But I’m also not a demon. I am—“ He pauses, not sure how to continue when he knows not of his label. The boy’s words fill in the space of silence before his can.

“Weird, because you sound a lot like him,” red eyes soften for a fraction in thought, before they settle into firmness. “Why did you save me?” The blade’s edge is still inches away from the skin on his neck, but he can perceive a small shaking movement. Try as he might, he can never understand puny humans and their unnecessary need to appear impervious to weakness.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, as there’s little reason to be dishonest.

“Who are you really?”

“I don’t know.”

”How can you not know who you are?” The question is filled with more worry than frustration. It’s been years, but the child is still kind.

“Because I’ve abandoned everything, even my own memories.” They’re unnecessary, useless, worthless, unneeded, just like him. Per his answer, red eyes lose their sharpness, and straightforward brows droop down. The sight somehow made his eyes itch, so he continues, “But I know who you are. I just don’t remember your name.”

“Me?” The sword is lowered and sheathed with a quick, practiced flourish. “I’m Elsword.” Silver armor glints to distract from the ghost of a smile that he cannot read. Gloved hand still hovering the handle of his claymore-signs of caution. A long pause pass when they hold each other’s eyes, then, “Do you want to come with me?”

“Why?” Now that takes him by surprise.

“You killed a lot of demons. You saved the El in that temple from being corrupted.” The boy replies easily like he’s expelling air, as if everything that come out of his mouth make perfect sense.

“But I don’t care for the El. I actually hate the Goddess,” his throat hurts-he hasn’t talked this much for a long time, but somehow this boy- Elsword- is making him want to share more than to listen. It’s an uneasy feeling.

“I’m acquainted with a pair of demons, you know. They agreed to come, even if they don’t care for a God. We only want to restore the El together. Most of us, anyways.” Elsword smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The redhead is much more calculated in his demeanors and reasoning now, and he’s not sure if he likes that.

“But why do you want to take me with you? I’m corrupted.” On cue, the eyes hiding in his shadows hiss again, their darkness creeping cold on his entire being. He tries to dig his mind for more coherent words, to persuade this boy to leave him alone. He’s so tired of being involved in any godly affair, of having false expectations that he’s needed. “Are you doing this out of…pity?”

“I do. But also, because you remind me of an old friend. So, maybe it’s out of selfishness?” A small grin stretches wider, but those red eyes look like they want to cry.

Perhaps, that is why he takes the boy’s outstretched hand.

“…For the time being, I will come with you.” It doesn’t matter whether the El will be restored or not-everything they do would be pointless when the cycle of death envelops every being. Helping a child in an overly big armor isn’t an exception to nihil when every act leads to the same end.

“Okay,” Elsword smiles. “And your name?”

He thinks about the grazing cold of his own core, the emptiness of unheard prayers, the foolishness of an abandoned servant waiting to be fed by an uncaring hand, and said, “Apostasia.”

Just a reminder to himself, so that he won’t make the same mistake.

6.

The party is understandably distrustful of his presence, suspicious of a man who has abandoned them in pursuit of a goal too far from their mortality. Their gazes sting more than the burns of Henrir on his core, but Apostasia learns to ignore them all, like he has done toward everything in life.

Everything, except for one.

“I knew it, you’re a great addition to the party.” Elsword’s words ring like a triumphant song to his ears from across the battlefield as one more demon get impaled with black thorns, and Apostasia cannot help but quirk his lips upward, the soft nostalgia from years past filled his stomach with more than just misery.

He missed this boy.

7.

“You’re Ain,” Elsword said one early morning when the sun still had not risen. Many things had changed other than the boy’s age and appearance-his sleeping patterns, for instance. Apostasia belatedly realizes that he was growing into more of a warrior ready for war. The knowledge causes an aching on his core that he could not quite categorize.

“That is not my designation anymore, I am-“

“But you’re still him. You feel like him.” There it was, the flash of stubbornness that used to irritated his celestial self, and it still does. Apostasia flicked his corrupted wrist, and eyes opened up on his belly, hissing in response to command of the hurt that never came.

“Does my body look like that Ain’s?” Grotesque and insidious, far from the image molded by God. It is something he had to grow comfortable with. 

“...No. But people change. You do too.” Elsword’s eyes burned away his rejections, and gloved hands covered up his tainted ones without flinches. “It’s not only similarities in appearance but...I know you’re Ain when you saved me in that ransacked temple, because you...You are always one of the first people to come to my aid.” If Apos saw a wet sheen on the corner of Elsword’s eyes, he didn’t comment on it. Dark eyes blinked slowly. Tired. Sorry.

He remembered now. It was this form of trust and kindness that make humans so weak and stupid, so quick to fall into misery. Easy to be used and discarded by a Goddess who has instilled into them a love for life. And yet-

Cold fingers wrapped around the boy’s gloves, clinging to their warmth. Who says he isn’t as stupid as them when he has been built from their image?

8.

Gold chains erupted from the grandmaster’s cores, slithering along her limbs like snakes. They held down the grand demon and smited it with holy flames. From her own essence, the song of divinity exuded its first note of regal power, scorching everything in its path faster than any flame magic. Apostasia hissed in pain as his eyes scream in fear of God’s presence, but Elsword watched on, enraptured by the otherworldly sight like his life had been built up for that moment. Even without any confirmation of Her agent, Apostasia already knew of the girl’s role, sensing the Goddess’ mark engraved in her fate as a tool to be discarded for the greater means.

That was the beginning of the end.

One day, a man in black and red came to reap happiness away, his flames promised the baptism of a new world without the El, all in protection of an unfortunate sacrifice. He emitted a grand defiance toward God that both intrigued and uneased Apostasia. Scorn was in his eyes and soul, anger lied in every thrust of sword he rains down on flesh. Lost love, Apostasia didn’t understand, but he knew of regret, of wanting things he can never have. So, he fought with everything he could muster, unable to disrespect the man’s will to establish influence in the world that doesn’t acknowledge his struggles.

But Elsword- the boy’s eyes looked directionless, the swings of his blade were damaging but driven on pure instinct rather than finesse. Still, he fought, blood pooling at his feet and teeth gritted tight in determination. Besides him, the grandmaster stood tall, her nimble dodges and decisive strikes in tandem with her brother’s, as if there’s no noose hanging on her neck.

Humans, he concluded, are stupid creatures. But they are not weak. 

Their adversary was powerful-he possessed an incredible aptitude of turning aged desperation into strength, and soon, the whole party, even the power of Void, shriveled and burnt under relentless torrent of flames. Only Elsword’s blazing mop of unkempt red hair remained tall, his armor broken but not shattered. Apostasia’s eyes could only register the screeching of bloodied sword, before blackness overtook him.

9.

When he woke, the powerful man was no more; only a black-haired corpse was left in its place. In his chest, lied a claymore serving as his tombstone, with his boyish gravedigger wearing heavy crosses on his neck. Besides him, the grandmas-Elesis, held his hands. They both were shaking, their postures looked every bit the children he finally recalled befriending years ago.

“I’ve made my decision.” Even after all these months, Elsword’s armor still looked too big for his frame. With all of the pieces in place, he looked every part the gear of the bigger machine called life. Apostasia wanted to smash them all, then he caught the glimmer in those stony red eyes and stopped himself. 

Was it a foolish decision on his part? He’s not quite sure. But still, he had no role in stopping this, no conscience of obstructing the boy who has granted him a new life and purpose in a world that promised him none.

10.

Apostasia watched as Elsword leaded his sister to her final resting place. Every step they took up the long stairs signaled one more year added to Elesis’s life sentence, every shuffle of feet left a vestige of resignation. Their two shadows flickered in the sun, merged, then only one was left behind.

Elsword dashed from the temple’s gates after, unmindful of worries exude from his friends and the priestesses, his legs hurried and clumsy. A gloved hand shielded the profile of his face. Apostasia wasted no moment to run toward the boy. Even if he doesn’t understand humans’ need to appear strong, he still felt the distress in abandonment. After all, wasn’t that the whole purpose of this cursed humanity that Ishmael molds him after: to relate to humans so much that he can feel the insignificance of their feelings, of their imperfections, of their lives, to the point it shattered his arrogance and makes him obey fate’s whims?

When corrupted arm reached the metal shoulder pad after a long distance, the boy came undone and collapsed in tears. Apostasia felt a pang of hurt reaching his empty hole of a heart, but no water came out to salve the ache. He could only wrap his tattered wings around that small frame and protect it from more offenses done by a callous God.

“It’s over now,” that’s not much of a consolation than a statement of truth, but the boy’s hiccups stopped.

11.

Elsword held his hand with a gloved palm, but it felt cold to the touch. Apostasia didn’t know why that bothered him, but it did.

“I want to go back home one last time, Ain.” Elsword’s calm words betrayed the liquid dripping down his cheeks, but the boy held his gaze firmly, steadily. “I want to see Ruben again, before I return to Sis.” His hand shuddered, and Apostasia tightened his grip, the holy song of the crystal inside the boy didn’t scream at him when they touched anymore. It’s now silent and peaceful in all of its negligence-their roles were finished.

Apostasia thought about how this boy’s claymore glistened in blood and blaze, burning out a girl’s life for a world that will eventually forget its own name. He pondered about the demons roaming the land with their miasma still scattering around the Earth, stewing for another generation of vengeance and itching to overthrow the divines. He contemplated the weakness of Gods, the futility of Devils, the certainty of struggles feeding into a cycle they can never escape.

He cannot imagine the end of this world will be pretty, and yet...

Elsword kept his gaze, pinning him in place despite his desire to slip through the cracks and float in the void. Apostasia nodded; all the brave man’s words he couldn’t say as Apostasia is neither man or brave, yet he knew he could at least offer the boy this:

“Let’s go.”

A/N: So this is an AU within the AU in this, in which the El is really the only thing that won’t screw the world over. Elsword succeeded in protecting the world like he should, yay!! Unfortunately, Solace got stabbed because, let’s face it, he would never compromise a chance at saving Harnier without a good fight. Even after the restoration of El is completed, because Apostasia’s connection with Ishmael is practically severed, he doesn’t get dissociated into light and gets to stay with Elsword and being his eternal silent observer. 

The changing between present and past tenses are intentional but hmm it probably doesn’t matter too much...for now ((pray that i can get the other stories in this AU published so things can make more sense without spoiling))