#or yelling in anguish when she really gets beaten up

[autisticbillpotts]

as of today I have watched all 35 godzilla movies by the way. thats my big butch lesbian lizard wife and Im in love with her

[wingsdippedingold]

Astraea and Azriel from his pov:

I wrote this up really quickly so I'm not sure how cohesive it even is, so I apologize for any clunky sentences

We had been sitting on a cliff off the Illyrian mountains for some time, it had already gotten dark and the wind had picked up, but I dared not to utter a word, possibly tearing the delicate tension between us. My gaze has been on Rosalyn the entire time, but never once did she share it. The wind continued in my ears, until it went quiet. It seems that now even the sky bows to her.

"Azriel" Rosalyn's eyes softened, not in a kind way, but like how a snake coils in the grass before striking, but they still strayed from mine, "Do you remember when we were children, and Rhysand saw that young Illyrian boy getting beaten to a pulp by two other boys? And he rushed over, putting his body between them?"

"What is this... Ros..?"

"Azriel? Do you remember how he cleaned the boys wounds? And sewed his torn skin?" Her eyes refused to meet mine.

I don't recall what she's speaking of at all, but I can only imagine it's what's been on her mind this whole time. "No. Rosalyn I don't."

"That's because he didn't help the boy. He was the one beating him up." Her eyes finally locked mine. "I cleaned your blood from your bruised body. I sewed your skin and held your hand." Her tone was no longer soft, now it was anguished and fraught. She wants to yell, but her throat is strained to contain it. I wish she would, I hated when she hid herself from me.

But that thought perished like a candle blown out.

Why is she bringing this up now? Rhysand is my brother, that was a skirmish between children.

"He is not your brother," she retorted as if she had heard my thoughts, cutting them off, just like they had been a moment before. "He is not your equal and he has never seen you as one. From that day you have become his lackey. You're not a dear friend, you're his soldier. He trusts you not because he loves you, but because he's put a leash on your collar and tamed you." Had she always harbored so much distaste from Rhysand? I had heard her speak about her father this way, but Rhysand? Her brother? The High Lord? The man who had risked himself to save Velaris?"

"You may be his sister, but watch how you spea-" My voice was cut off by her sudden stance. Now she looked down at me.

"Rhysand allows you your freedom, he is your master. A dog doesn't bite the hand that feeds it, and Rhysand has made you his bitch."

She had never spoken to me so abrasively, in all the time I had known her she was nothing but sweet. Had she always look at me like this when she saw me, when she told me she loved me? Her beautiful eyes full of disdain?

"I suggest now you reevaluate who you're loyal to." And then she walked away, leaving me alone again like she did all those centuries ago.

@littlemisssatanist @hrizantemy @rowletlittenpopplioteam @szalonykasztan00 @redcherrypineapple finally writing ab this again 🙏

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

One True Queen Pt.1

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark

Warnings: inc3st cuz you know how Targaryens be, Rhaegar being a complete ass

Words: 2013

Summary: What he had done was the greatest insult to you. One that you thought he would never do. You knew he loved you with all his heart, that was certain. You were his sister and his wife. However, that all changed when he took Lyanna Stark as his second wife.

Part 2 Finale

“How could you do this to me Rhaegar?!” You howl at your brother, hating it even more when he wouldn’t even give you the courtesy of meeting your anguished gaze. What he had done was the greatest insult to you. One that you thought he would never do. You knew he loved you with all his heart, that was certain. You were his sister and his wife. However, that all changed when he took Lyanna Stark as his second wife, claiming that he loved her as well. “You’ve humiliated me!”

“(y/n), please-”

You swiped at his well meaning hand as he tries to console you. He and Lyanna had eloped, not telling anyone until they came back to King’s Landing; Lyanna now being as much a wife as you were. “I don’t want her in our bed! I don’t want her in this palace! Do you even care about how much you have hurt me?!”

Rhaegar bows his head in shame. “I never wanted to hurt you (y/n). I love you. But I also can’t deny my heart Lyanna.”

Daggers straight in your chest, you turn your back to him and head for the window. Through tear filled eyes you gaze at the Stark banner that had just entered the gates of the Keep. You knew there was trouble when you saw her at the Tourney at Harrenhal. Even worse was your brother crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty.

“Is. . . Is this because I haven’t gotten pregnant yet?”

You hear him take a few steps closer before thinking better of it and staying put. “Of course not. Jorrāelagon-”

“Don’t call me that!” Finally snapping and doing away with your tears you yell “Get out! Go to your Lyanna!”

He flinched, visibly wounded. Good. You wanted him to feel every inch of pain that you were going through. Even though you were forced to marry him by your father, you loved him all the same. You had thought he loved you just as much. Apparently you had been wrong.

Like a beaten dog, Rhaegar sulks out of your bedroom. A bedroom you had shared with him for years, even before you had been officially married. You didn’t know which mood you wanted to favor: anger or sorrow. You choose to crumple up against the wall and squeeze your eyes tight. Maybe it was just a dream and your world wasn’t really ending. When you woke up you and Rhaegar would be cuddled together in bed.

You were still there though when you opened your eyes. All alone.

*

You refuse to come out of your chambers for days. Refuse anyone who goes calling to you. The one time you dared to step out of your room you heard the gossip of two maids. They whispered and tried to keep their giggles at bay as one told the other that Rhaegar had took Lyanna as another wife because his first one wasn’t pleasing him enough. That she had failed to have any children. That she possibly couldn’t have any children. You had immediately run right back to your room. You just wanted to disappear completely.

The outside world wouldn’t let you though. A week into your self-exile you heard a great commotion coming from down the hall. You open your door just a little bit to take a peak.

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT MY SISTER YOU CUR!! IF I HEAR ANYMORE OF THIS GOSSIP I’LL HAVE ALL OF YOUR TONGUES RIPPED OUT FROM YOUR MOUTH!!”

Viserys. Who else possessed such a temper?

“It’s good to see you’re finally out, my lady.”

You jump at the gentle voice of Ser Arthur Dayne. “A-Arthur. . . You startled me.”

His smile did wonders on your mood. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but say something once I saw you finally emerge from your crypt.” Dayne’s smile is quick to disappear. “It must be foolish of me to ask, but how are you my lady?”

“How do you think she is?” Came the harsh voice of your little brother Viserys. With his tiny body, even Viserys commands attention. He was barely the sweet age of 12 and he already carried himself like a full grown man. “My brother has just broken her heart and embarrassed her in front of all the realm! With that Stark whore no less. What a disgrace. I’m surprised he has no shame.” Finally he turns to you and cups your face. “Oh sweet sister, how he must have hurt you.”

You see Arthur roll his eyes behind Viserys. “Don’t talk like that Viserys. It’s unbecoming of you.”

Viserys straightens up at your gentle reprimand of his behavior. “Can you blame me though? Rhaegar has caused nothing but trouble since bringing that- . . . that woman here.”

“He’s right.” Arthur sighs, hating to agree with the young prince. “Your father is furious and your mother. . . well, she feels your grief, (y/n).”

“And all the peasants gossip.” Your brother spits in agitation. “We should have everyone of them killed.”

Now you roll your eyes. He was taken way too much after your father. Aerys had certainly brainwashed little Viserys to think just as he does. He poisoned your sweet brothers mind. Viserys was still your brother though. “Now, now Viserys. Calm down.”

Normally he would’ve fought anyone who told him to calm down. But you were his older sister, an older sister whom a loved dearly. So he bit his tongue. You could see from the reddening of his cheeks how much he wanted to tell you off. To soothe him you smoothe his soft, silver, hair. “I know what they think about me. I know they think it’s my fault for not doing my wifely role in keeping my husband satisfied and bearing children for him. I also know that father must be upset with me as well and put some of the blame on me.” Another ache in your chest alerts you that if you didn’t stop speaking, tears would soon fill your eyes. What kind of princess would you be if you cried in front of Ser Arthur Dayne and your young brother? Your father had raised you differently.

“I tried to tell him. . .” Arthur admits forlornly. “I tried to tell him it wouldn’t be a good idea. Oh how I tried to talk him out of it. Of course Griff was no help at all. He agrees with whatever Rhaegar wants to do.”

Managing a weak smile you shake your head. “I know, Arthur. I know. What’s done is done. I can’t change anything. We’ve tried for years to get pregnant. I’m just not good enough.” Your hand drops from Viserys’ head and you go back into your room without another word. Feeling the rapidly growing hollow pit in your heart, your body moves of it’s own accord to a chest you kept at the foot of your bed. In it was something very valuable. A relic of when the Targaryens were truly powerful. Kneeling down, your fingers move underneath the latch and flip it up. Underneath several layers of silk you unearth your fossilized dragon egg. It had been a wedding gift from some dignitary that hailed from Essos. A true treasure indeed. Although the egg itself held no life in it, you cradled it against your chest. Sometimes when you did so it felt like a baby; warm. You held onto it tightly.

Your life was in ruins. Rhaegar no longer needed you and you were just taking up space in the Red Keep.

That night you packed your things, including your dragon egg, and fled from the Keep. What point was there in staying? You would only be reminded of the failure you were. Being the princess didn’t make your escape easy. You encountered Ser Arthur during your exodus. He could’ve stopped you. Escorted you back to your chambers, but he knew it was for the best. So in the dead of night he helped you escape while finding an inn outside of King’s Landing to keep you at where people’s voices could be paid to keep quiet. Just until Arthur could find you proper lodgings. Of course when word got out that the princess was missing, every Targaryen guard was on the lookout for you. That was fine. You didn’t want to leave your room anyway.

*

As soon as he could, Ser Arthur Dayne got onto his horse and was rushing out of King’s Landing. He had to warn her. When Rhaegar took Lyanna he had angered Robert Baratheon, Lyanna’s fiance. Robert was raging war against him in order to get Lyanna back. Appalled by such actions, Lyanna had sent a letter to Robert only to enrage him further. He didn’t like looking like a fool and being made a cuckold. To make matters worse, word had slipped that a certain Targaryen princess was hidden away at some inn. Arthur knew not to trust Varys, that that eunuch was playing for whatever side paid him more. Now there were Baratheon soldiers heading for the inn. Heading for (y/n).

*

Smoke. That was the smell that woke you up.

Blinking your eyes open you lazyly lift your head from your pillow. You couldn’t see anything in the dark and with your brain already foggy from sleep, you were prepared to lay your head back down before you heard a scream from downstairs. Immediately you bolt up and grab for your egg that you had set on your nightstand. More horrendous screams and now doors in your hallway were banging open as the other occupants went out to see what was going on.

“Fire!!”

That scream soon escalated into a horrendous howl of pain as light brushed underneath your door. More cries of death soon followed making your heart pound. You hurl yourself to the window and try to open it. As you gazed outside you noticed banners waving in the wind. Your own bannermen wouldn’t burn you alive, would they? No, no one knew you were there. How could anyone know you were there?

Once it was clear that the window wasn’t an option even as you smashed the glass pane, you bolted to the door. The doorknob should’ve scalded your palm as you twisted it open, yet it didn’t. As soon as you opened the door, flames stretched out toward you, painting your room with blaring orange light. You backed away, true panic making your heart nearly leap out of your chest as you were running out of options. The wood underneath your foot creaked as the fire at away at it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you hold on tightly to your dragon egg and await to be burned alive.

“Princess (y/n)!”

“Gods, is she dead?!”

“Someone call for Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime! Tell him we found the princess!”

“Wait- BACK UP!!”

Slowly your eyelids flutter open. You weren’t dead. That was the first thing you were able to comprehend. The second thing was something moving in your arms. A nip at your breast truly woke you up. You didn’t have time to register your surroundings as you look down to your arms. To your shock and amazement, a tiny dragon was suckling at your breast. Your breath was stuck in your throat. An actual dragon. It’s then you take notice of your lack of clothes and the ash and soot that covered your body. In fact it covered the entire area around you. Only the skeletal remains of the inn were all that were left from the fire. That and a legion of Targaryen soldiers staring at you with a mixture of fear and dismay.

“My lady. . .” Ser Arthur breathes, truly unable to believe his eyes.

The little red dragon moves in your arms. Detaching itself from your breast he turns his head at the soldiers and lets out a tiny hiss that had the soldiers jumping back.

You couldn’t explain the tears that were suddenly in your eyes as you laughed hysterically.

[sereisstuff]

𝐃𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝

JJ maybank x Fem!plus size reader

ASK: Can you please do a jj x reader where they are best friends and the reader has feelings for jj but those feelings are not reciprocated however he always sends her mixed signals which makes her think he likes her. One day she overhears a convo of him talking to the boys where he is basically degrading her and it breaks her heart. She starts to ignore jj and he starts to regret and misses her. FULL ANGST PLS N THANK YOU

Summary: JJ never meant for you to hear him, but you do.

Word count|| 2K

Warnings: Angst? best friend!reader. JJ actually does like the reader back but it's barely mentioned.

A/N: I listened to ribs when I was writing this, I don't know if it's angst enough and I most likely missed the entire point of the ask but still do enjoy<3

It broke you, hiding behind the couch. Legs curled as you eavesdropped on the boy’s conversation. Having earlier arrived not wanting to ruin what sounded like a heated debate, logically choosing to stay behind until Kie got there.

Oh, how wrong it was to do that.

Like a fine chandelier, slowly unhinging until it clashed with the floor; breaking into hundreds if not thousands of pieces of shattered glass. You felt your soul unhinge. It wasn’t a sweet feeling, nor was it pleasant. You could feel the strings of your heart slowly being plucked, one by one. Tauntingly ripping your mind to shreds as though the organ was a piece of thin paper.

“She’s up my ass constantly Pope, it’s like I can’t breathe around her. It’s so fucking suffocating” You could hear how his words jumbled his speech, “She’s so annoying bro,” He huffed, encasing your body like a hardened piece of armour, relinquishing in your pity.

But you stayed, you always did. Hoping this was some sick joke, where he’d laugh it off and pretend it was something he was dared to say; how childish.

“She’s more oblivious than a child, it’s like give her a moment of your time and she’ll take it the extra mile” JJ rambled on and on, you could only imagine his hands in the air. Flailing around like a wild cat.

Pope and John b shook their heads, listening to him ramble about their best friend; including JJ.

“JJ, you should really stop,” Pope begged, leaning into the table more. He worried you’d hear and if he hated the words leaving JJ’s mouth, so would you.

JJ’s eyes were bloodshot, high off fumes. He rolled his irises, sinking into his chair before pointing towards Pope “Why do you think I'm telling you this Pope? I can’t fucking handle it anymore. She is around me all the time, worrying, talking. She’s always so fucking happy. I can’t get a single thought in without her being there.”

You couldn’t listen any longer, sniffling with your hands in between your knees and then adjusting upwards. You covered your ears, slowly removing yourself from the porch. Pope was the first to notice the movement, then JJ. Turning around as a reflex, he saw your back then the way your shoulders shook.

"Y/N" he yelled but you ignored him.

By now you had already gotten into your old beaten down truck, locking the keys in the ignition. Then without looking forward, you reversed. Fast, swift and heavy like your tidal wave of emotions.

You felt stupid for believing he ever liked you, you felt pathetic. Your body shook with the shivers of anguish raining down on you. It wasn't a sweet feeling, that's for sure.

"You'll always be my favourite girl cupcake"

You remembered clearly how he whispered that into your ear when you had been drinking at yet another spontaneous kegger, you were feeling low that day. Having had an argument with your mother about taking care of your nephew once again, JJ knew about your relationship with her and made sure your night was full of surprises.

He pulled you up from the log, reeling you into his embrace as he danced around you. Jokingly shimmering until he saw that divine smile cross those gloomy features of yours, hands latching to your waist like they were magnetically drawn. You danced all night, listening to his jokes, watching him lip-sync to the most atrocious songs. Watching how the roaring fire shone through those oceanic eyes of his.

That was the night you felt the touch of his lips, gracing your neck. An innocent kiss full of sin, one out of comfort. But that was it, nothing more than that. You were used to being by his side, being his source of comfort. You didn't mind, he was your best friend, the man you did not choose to love but did it so effortlessly.

That small latch of his skin against yours was so quick, so small but it was on your mind. Like vinyl on repeat. You knew his adamancy towards intimacy but this was like no other. A peck of endearment, a subtle hint towards his intention, the beginning of an end.

You hadn't spoken to him since, nor John B. You'd briefly sent a love heart to pope and Kies message of concern when you didn't show up for the kegger they invited you to, or the movie night you all planned. Coming up with some lame excuse that was slightly breaching the lines of truth.

You couldn't bear the thought of being around him any longer, invading his space. You felt betrayed, the one person you thought you could trust, sat there. Complaining as though it was second nature to him, that you were so abundantly annoying that he could no longer handle seeing a single strand on your head. The way the words left his mouth made you feel as though you were dead weight he carried because he had to, not because you were his best friend.

You'd given him what he wanted.

JJ was growing paranoid by the minute, had you heard him? Was that you that left? Why weren't you answering any of his calls?

"Have you heard from y/n?" He asked, Kie looked back at him with a shrug. She had heard from you, but it was a momentary lapse of time.

JJ was walking around the HMS pogue on yet another, burningly hot day. The usual, slight music, beers in the cooler, surrounded by the ones he loved. JJ loved days like this, laughing until his stomach ached, messing around with everyone. Bantering until the sun made its awaited stop behind the hills and entertaining everyone with his spontaneous antics, high off his kite. Flowing with the light breeze gently gracing their midst.

But he'd never felt more alone.

He could feel the sting in his heart when he thought about you. He knew it was you leaving that day when he was ranting to John b and Pope, he could recognize those locks anywhere. The stifle tears sliding down your plump cheeks, hugging your face with a pool of your own accord. But he didn't want to admit it.

He missed you so much.

JJ wanted your embrace back, he wanted your comfort. Despite the circumstances, JJ needed you. He didn't care how bright you shone, how wide your smile stretched. He hated himself for even thinking about what he'd said about you that day; JJ was infuriated with himself. With you.

You were such a warm person, a green light in a field of red. The solace he craved, you were the one person who gave him unconditional love even when he didn't deserve it. The one who stood under his stormy clouds, shielding him from his own thunder.

"JJ, she's probably taking a rest right now." John b levelled, trying to stop the blonde boy from pacing around the kitchen. Everyone watched him. Concern drenching their exhausted faces.

JJ grabbed a hold of his locks, pulling them slightly "is she messaging any of you?" He asked, looking up from his wandering pieces of hair. His eyes were growing puffier by the day.

"Pope?" He locked his gaze with the lean boy. Eyes searching for answers. Pope knew something he didn't, he could feel it.

"Nothing bro," Pope answered.

JJ slammed the door of the chateau open, not wanting his friend's to see him right now. He regretted it all, he regretted speaking about you how he did. He hated that you shone so brightly, so golden that you completely had him entranced. That you made him feel so much security with little words, you were a danger to him. He was the opposite, he was impulsive. He held his anger on the tips of his fingers and drove through obstacles without precaution. You held him like he was the most fickle being in the world.

You were too perfect for him. It angered him. But it was nothing compared to how he felt about the way he treated you.

You continued to ignore everyone, not once switching on your phone. It had nearly been two weeks since that day, your heart growing heavier by the day. You genuinely liked him, even if he didn't grant you the chance, you'd still love him. Not as your own but as your best friend.

You were curled up by your bed, blankets suffocating you like your evergrowing thoughts. It was betrayal at its finest.

Your mother had left for the night, taking your nephew with her. You didn't know where she was and you didn't care. Now that you had nothing to distract you, you couldn't help but shed a tear. It wasn't like losing a bond. It was like a source of light you built together, dying down. Eventually only being lit by you, like a candle dying out but you still tried and tried to get it to light again.

Your trance was halted when an angry knock vibrated your windows.

You rolled from your bed, peeking through the corners. JJ noticed immediately the shift in movement. Having locked gazes with you, that singular moment had him feeling light-headed.

Your window creaked as it opened slightly.

JJ gave you no time to speak, latching on to the window and then lifting himself into your bedroom pushing you back slightly to adjust towards the new body in the room.

The boy's eyes were dark, bags slightly forming just above the puff in his eyes. Face red in both anger and anguish.

"You haven't spoken to me in two weeks" he whispered.

"Why do you care so much JJ, you didn't care before" you plauded, shifting the weight on your feet. You had to sit down, not used to being up so much anymore.

JJ examined your face, much worse than his. Your eyes were sunken, eyelids half-open almost like you had been straining them. Your body was slumped, hair running amuck. He did this to you.

JJ calmly breathed in, restraining himself from an outburst "I care y/n" he breathed an airy reply. Still so quiet.

"You don't JJ, you don't need to lie to me. You don't care about me or else you never would have said those things, you don't need to come to my house to reconcile your feelings"

JJ groaned, biting the inside of his cheek. His glazed eyes met yours again but you weren't looking at him, you were looking down. Just as you felt.

"I fucking care y/n. That's the problem"

JJ leaned against the wall, feeling equally as tired. He'd been worried the first day you hadn't answered his messages, or John B's. Not even Kie. He knew he was the cause of this but he was so violently on cloud nine that he said ridiculous things. JJ had been dealing with a lot lately and he did the one thing he promised not to, that's why he was at the chateau in the first place.

"That's not my problem though is it JJ" you snapped, venomously targeting him. "Because I'm a good fucking friend, I care about everyone, especially you. I make sure everyone is okay, that your problems can be shared and will only be known by me. That, that you can feel safe with me because God forbid you befriend a person you hate"

You took in a breath, fighting the urge to scream and losing your voice. Feeling the effects of water pouring through your eyes starting to crumble your chords. "Unlike you JJ. I love all of the pogues. I don't just handpick the ones I think are perfect enough" you couldn't hold it back anymore, you'd be anything but perfect in life. Choosing to move from being defensive to being the one defending those who needed it.

You could hear the faint sniffles hurricaning in front of you. He deserved it.

"You know JJ, I hate that no matter how much I hate you. I'll always be there if you ask because I care. That's what caring means"

"I didn't mean it, I really didn't." JJ huffed for air, peeking up from his spot, he noticed the way your eyes lingered on the floor. That burning sensation crawling past his orbs like repetition.

You closed your eyes, coating your lips in the sleek of your tongue. Feeling the salt coating your throat.

"There's nothing more I regret than saying what I did about you that day. I was so hurt, I searched for anything to help me get over it. I always came to you. You felt safe to me, you feel safe to me."

You couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I can't do this anymore JJ, I can't have you treat me like something to fill your time and then turn around and act like I'm a joke"

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. JJ hadn't uttered a word after that, staring thoughtlessly behind you. He couldn't form any words to describe how much he regretted it.

Your eyes hardened, taking his silence personally "Just go JJ"

"Let me explain" he begged, his voice cracking as he stepped towards you. He didn't want to lose you.

His chords tied as he uttered in whispers "please"

But you couldn't, you loved him dearly. More than friends, more than lovers. He was your entire universe.

Universe's can crumble and they can rebuild.

"JJ I'm done, please …. Just go" you pleaded knowing the more he begged, the less strength you'd have to deny him.

JJ felt his heart crack, he royally fucked up this time.

He sniffed back his cries, curling his fist then releasing them. His eyes were bound on your sullen figure.

"Are we ever going to be okay after this?" JJ whimpered slightly, to a fault.

"I don't know JJ. I don't know if I can trust you again"

He rushed forward, grabbing hold of your face in the palms of his large hands. They were callous to touch but felt warm against your cold skin.

His eyes implored your own, searching them. You were the only person he would have truly fought the world for, his best friend.

"You'll always be my favourite girl"

With those words, you had grabbed his hands. Removing them from your face, you didn't want to break Infront of him. The tears gushing from your face weren't even the worst but you couldn't handle the sight unfolding before you.

JJ looked back one more time, promising to himself he'd do anything to get you back to him. No matter what.

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part five] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The killer is revealed! What surprises are in store? [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,420 words

warning: mentions of domestic violence and rape, violence and straight up murder

note: here we go... this is the second to last chapter :) hope you all enjoy reading! no smut again lol

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"This place... is creepy as hell," I mumbled under my breath, glancing curiously over at Dazai as we climbed out of the car and started walking towards the large abandoned factory. "Are you sure this is where Ranpo told us to go?"

"Yep~ He's usually never wrong, so there must be something here we can find~" Dazai sang, nonchalantly walking inside the factory. I sighed deeply and quickly followed him, shivering at the creepy aura it gave off.

"Ugh, does somebody really hide out here? It's giving me the creeps," I whined, hugging myself and rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"What if there are ghosts here?" Dazai wondered and I shuddered deeply, fear striking my heart at the mere thought.

"Don't say that!"

"Will you two shut up?" A third voice spoke up and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Chuuya? What are you doing here? And... who's that?"

In the middle of the factory, Chuuya stood before a man tied up to a single chair, a linen bag over his head. Chuuya had a deep frown on his face, obviously extremely irritated with something.

"Wh-who is that?! Please, help me!" The man begged, howling in pain when Chuuya kicked him in the stomach.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Is that the one?" Dazai asked and Chuuya nodded. I looked at them in confusion.

"The one... what?"

"This," Chuuya started. "Is the one that's been stealing from the Port Mafia for well over a year. Along with that bastard Taichi."

My jaw fell open in shock, not expecting that at all. "Wh-what do you mean stealing?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Taichi was in charge of moving product and bringing back the cash from the Northern area of the city. He's been getting his hands in the product, selling them little by little on the side to line his pockets." Chuuya seemed to grow angrier and angrier by the second as he explained. "We've been investigating that thief for three months and we finally pieced it together. Thanks to you." Chuuya's angry gaze is now on me and I feel my heart drop to the ground.

"What do you mean? Me?" I stuttered, looking over to the man as he began to struggle in his chair. He rocked from side to side, pleading loudly for his life.

"Please, let me go!"

There was a large bang! followed by a scream as Chuuya swiftly brought out a handgun, shooting the man right in the head. I was the one who screamed.

"I hate disloyalty," Chuuya spat, his voice cold. His equally icy glare narrowed on Dazai, who didn't even react to the man being killed, unlike myself. My now shaking hands were clamped over my mouth, in shock by what I've just witnessed.

"So tell me," Chuuya began, now turning to face me. "How is it that you knew that Taichi was meeting a drug dealer... the dead man at your feet specifically?" He didn't even give me a chance to answer before he continued. "How did you know that? Were you there?"

I rapidly shook my head, heart thudding in my chest. "No!" I exclaimed, taking a step back.

"Really? Taichi was killed in the South. That wasn't his area, and he wasn't even assigned to move the product. Hasn't been for months since the investigation started." Chuuya's voice was even, and it sent shivers down my spine. I took another step back. "Well? Explain yourself."

I gulped, absolute fear coursing through my body. I could feel the sweat slide down my temple and. "W-well, I overheard him talking about what he does for you. So! I just assumed..."

Chuuya scoffed, laughing dryly. "Plausible, yes." He dug into his coat's inner pocket and I gasped sharply when he held up my knife. I was stunned, thinking I had lost it, but Chuuya had it all along. Suddenly, that day I went to visit him in his office ran through my head, and I realized that was when I last saw my knife. Fuck.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

"I know you take excellent care of this knife, clean it regularly. Except for the blood in the hilt."

"And the bloody clothes I found under the sink in your bathroom," Dazai finally spoke up and I gasped sharply. "You probably should have thrown those clothes away before you had me sleep over. You know I like to snoop," He continued on as I clenched my shaking fists. Dazai circled around so he and Chuuya now stood before me, tall and intimidating. "You're the killer, aren't you? Actually, you don't have to answer that. We already know that you are."

I didn't say anything, my lips pulled in a thin line as I stared at the ground. I started to breathe a bit heavily, heart pounding and my blood boiling with the anger and rage I tried to keep at bay from the moments I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep at night.

"Well?" Chuuya yelled, growling. "Aren't you gonna say anything?! You killed him!"

I lifted my head up, and the two men looked genuinely surprised at the look in my face, eyes dark and narrow and full of anger. I was seething, but I couldn't help the sick, twisted smile that grew on my face. "And what if I did?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "Hell hath no fury, right?"

Suddenly, there was an almost inhuman shriek as a figure jumped out from behind the men, knife brandished and slicing right at Dazai. Dazai luckily dodged it, the figure landing on its feet before standing tall. Dazai and Chuuya are both shocked, as they now stared at the perfect clone of myself. The clone didn't give Dazai any time to process, running towards him again and slicing almost wildly with the knife in hand.

"My, what a turn of events!" Dazai exclaimed a bit excitedly, taking in my clone's features. She looked exactly like me, except she looked more wild, her face contorted into one full of rage, anger and anguish with a seemingly endless stream of tears pouring down her face. Her movements were erratic, cries leaving her mouth as she lunged for the attack.

Meanwhile, I had engaged in a fight with Chuuya, but even I could immediately tell just how outmatched I was and that I had no hopes of beating him. Still, I threw a punch at him, able to get him right in his cheek, but he quickly retaliated with a harsh kick to my side. I cried out in pain, clutching my side.

"Are you crazy," Chuuya hissed. "Ability user or not, I'm one of the best martial artists in the Port Mafia! You're not beating me!" He dodged yet another of my punches, jumping back before he kicked me again right on my torso. I grunted in pain, falling on one knee.

"I'm afraid I don't like you," Dazai told my clone as he ducked down to dodge a wild swing. He quickly shot up, successfully headbutting the clone. She cried out in pain, covering her face with her hands as she fell back, Dazai reaching out to grab one of her wrists. As soon as he did so, she disappeared, his ability coming into effect. He let out a tired whew! dusting his hands off before turning to the fight between Chuuya and I.

Even if Chuuya did outmatch me, I tried to keep fighting him, until he suddenly grabbed me and threw me hard on the ground. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me. "Fuck!" I cursed, struggling to breathe as I tried to stand up. I am forced right back on my knees, a hand pressing on my neck. My anger disappeared, and by then, I knew that it was Dazai.

Now that all my anger, and fury was gone, all I had left was the immeasurable despair that settled in my chest, tears now freely sliding down my cheeks. I couldn't stop my sobbing, feeling the two men's wide eyes on me.

"He was beating her!" I cried out, just desperate for them to hear me out before they passed their judgements on me. "Taichi... was beating Keiko and... I never knew! She's been my best friend ever since I moved here and I never had a clue! Not one! Until that day she called me.. when I was at your place," I glanced at Dazai, lip quivering as I struggled to continue. "I went home and when she came over... I knew something was wrong I... then she took off her clothes and there wasn't an inch of her skin below her neck that wasn't covered in bruises I-" 

I choked up, covering my face as I started to sob uncontrollably, the pain of once seeing my friend who was so full of life, looking like a scared, beaten animal as she stood before me. As I cried, Dazai and Chuuya looked at each other, just stunned beyond words.

"I knew..." I spoke up after a moment. "That one of these days, he would actually kill her. That's why she was so afraid to leave him. He was already beating her, and raping her, what would stop him from killing her if she defied him?! Huh?!" Even with Dazai still holding onto the back of my neck, I started to grow angry. "So, I killed him. I killed him before he could have a chance to kill her!" I then stared at Chuuya in his blue eyes. "And I'll do it again."

"After Taichi dropped Keiko off at my apartment, I snuck out through the emergency stairwell and back exit to follow him. The building is old, so I knew there were no cameras."

I carefully kept the hood of my hoodie over my head as I followed Taichi from a distance, a determined look on my face, one that said that I will not stop.

I soon followed him into the alleyway, where I hid behind a dumpster and watched him do his drug deal. He was grinning and laughing, acting smug and it was honestly fucking disgusting.

"I waited until he was completely alone before confronting him. He didn't expect to see me at all."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Taichi demanded, glaring at me. He wasn't that nice, friendly guy he played himself to be anymore.  "What the fuck are you doing in Port Mafia business?"

"I honestly don't give a fuck about the Port Mafia. I do give a fuck about Keiko, and you're going to stay the fuck away from her."

He just stared at me, before he threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Okay... okay, stupid bitch. That was kind of funny. Just go back home before--"

"And before he could finish his sentence, my clone stabbed him right in his back."

I watched Taichi fall to the ground, my clone falling on top of him, shrieking as she stabbed him over and over again in a rage filled flurry. There was blood everywhere, some even spraying on my clothes as I watched.

Then, I stepped closer, pulling out my knife and landing one more final blow right in his chest, killing him.

"And he was as good as dead."

"... was Keiko in on this?"

Keiko opened the door to my apartment, letting me rush inside before closing and locking the door. She turned to look at me, eyes wide as she took in the blood on my clothes.

"Did... did you..." she stuttered softly, and I nodded.

"He's dead."

Keiko burst into tears.

"You know the answer to that already."

I was sitting on the ground now, head hung low as I stared at my hands. "I killed someone," I said softly, eyes burning with tears as I clenched my fists. "But when it comes to the people I love... I will do it again. So," I turned to Dazai. "Turn me into the police." I then turned to Chuuya. "Or just shoot me in the fucking head. I'm not strong enough against either of you... I just ask that you keep Keiko out of this. She has suffered far too much already."

I kept my head down, Chuuya and Dazai standing above me. Chuuya had a displeased look on his face, though Dazai's expression looked a bit forlorn.

"You'd do anything to protect your friends," Dazai stated and I looked up at him, looking broken, and small. Dazai gritted his teeth, frowning deeply.

"This is so fucked up," Chuuya grumbled, his mind moving at a mile a second as he rubbed his temples. Taichi was as good as dead anyways, seeing as him stealing from the Port Mafia was punishable by death. So what the hell is he supposed to do now? Chuuya growled in frustration.

"Did you guys..." I started, voice small as a thought plagued my mind. "...know all along...?" I bit my lip, keeping my gaze on the floor. "And when we-"

"It's not what you think," Dazai spoke up, knowing exactly what I was thinking. "You were just sloppy. But I don't blame you for panicking, bella."

"I knew as soon as you brought up the drug deal," Chuuya spoke up and I scoffed, laughing at my own stupidity. "I just wanted to fuck you 'cause of that dress."

Dazai snorted while I couldn't help the short laugh that escaped my mouth despite the situation. I shook my head, sighing deeply. I just decided to accept their answer, as this wasn't the right time to dwell upon my insecurities. I glanced over to the dead body of Taichi's accomplice, thinking he was probably going to die by the Port Mafia's hand anyway.

Dazai followed my gaze, tilting his head a bit as he tapped his chin. "There is no DNA evidence," Dazai recalled and Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeah, so?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"So," Dazai started, glancing over at me still on the ground. "There is no proof of her involvement. Man, just what will I tell the Boss now?!" Dazai threw his hands up dramatically, Chuuya's eye twitching in annoyance.

Still, the Executive kept his mouth shut, taking in the meaning of Dazai's words. Then, he looked over at me, blue eyes staring me down before his lips twitched upwards a bit.

"Oh yeah... I won the race."

-End

tags in replies!!

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (8/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: you go missing and a lot of people get worried

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic..yet)

A/n: I actually wasn't gonna post today but this chapter fell out of me. Its funny how some days are tougher to write and others its like riding a wave. I hope everyone has a wonderful day :)

The man with the busy eyebrows and mustache called himself Inspector Campbell. A fucking police officer. When you came too you found yourself tied to a chair, ropes around your wrist and legs, tight against the skin cutting off blood circulation. He didn’t ask questions first. No first, was the punching against your ribs and stomach. Then your face. He didn’t give you no breaks, not like he would give you any.

 “I think me and you have gotten fairly acquainted with.” The inspector say his foul breath reaching up your nostrils. Blood dribbled down your chin and nose. It was you could taste.

His men have left the room, on his orders of course. He leans on his cane as he stares at you from above. A evil smirk on his face as if he was some god looking down at his pitiful creations. You spit blood at his shoe.

 He grabs your face harshly, you face scrunching up like a fish. “Tell me what you were doing with Thomas Shelby. Or I can make this night a whole lot painful for you.”  He throws you back and all you do is glare at the man. Not saying a word. Not even huffing a sound.

 The inspector laughs. And walks out the door. You see him point to you with his cane as he talks to the other men that were abusing you moments ago.  You brace yourself for the inevitable. The torture last for hours.

 ******************************************************************************************

 No ones seen you for three days. Ada, the first night you didn’t comeback, called Trinity. but she hadn’t seen you since the morning. The next day Ada and James went out looking through the streets at your usual spots. You didn’t have any Ada just wanted to feel as though she was doing something. You didn’t have any family or any other friends. Except one other person who may know your whereabouts. So on the third day of no trace of you, with a little nagging and encouragement from James and Trinity, Ada decided to make a call.

 *******************************************************************************************

 Over at May Careltons mansion, Thomas Shelby listens half heartedly to the woman discussing the progress on his horse. He could care less at the moment. He’s just thinking of ways that he could stay the night. He wasn’t a fool, he knew of Mays attraction to him. It benefited him in more ways than one.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Shelby,” A maid interrupts May in the middle of whatever it was that she was saying, “You have a phone call.”

 “I’m sure they can leave a message.” His eyes not leaving Mays

 “Its your sister, she sounds urgent.” The maid says.

 With that thought in mind, Tommy excuses himself from May.

 “Ada this better be important.”

 “Where the fuck are you,” Ada screeches over the phone, “Ive been trying to contact you everywhere and Polly tells me your-“

 “What is it-“

 “(Y/n) is missing.”

 Tommy swallows hard. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere ada. How long its been?”

 “Three days. No ones seen her. Tommy please, Im worried.”

 Three days ago was when he last saw you. When you agreed to go to dinner with Alfie and Arthur You had left the car without another word. He wanted to follow you but decided against it. He was regretting it now.

 “Ada, just calm down. Ill ask some boys to go look for her okay?” He reassures his sister over the phone promising to find you.

He hangs up.

 “Is everything alright?” May asks from behind him. Her eyes were hopeful looking at him. She too was hoping he would stay though that was something she would never admit out loud.

“I have to go, family emergency.” He says. Turning his back on her without another thought.

***************************************************************

He didn’t have to leave. He knew that. He could have stayed with May have her fill that hole within his heart that Grace had left about a year ago. He owed nothing to you. He kept telling himself this over and over as he drove back, pushing the speed way past its limit. He begins to reminisce about your first meeting. You were nothing but a chess piece to him at the time but you surprised him a lot in that first meeting. Especially when you didn’t take that money he offered. He was confused to say the least. Everyone took free money. You didn’t. He remembers seeing you again at the Eden club. He though he would never see again. But there you were. He couldn’t not talk to you. He just had to. He knew he hurt you with his words. He didn’t apologize. He never apologizes. He remembers finding out Ada had a roommate. Imagine the surprise on his face when he realized it was you. Of course Thomas Shelby was always in control of his emotions so it never really showed. He was distrustful of you as he always is with people. But you showed something since your first introduction that most people didn’t show their entire lives; Honesty. And he liked that about you. He believed you when you said you didn’t work for Sabini anymore. (Of course he had his people look into it after to be 100% sure) He trusted you to go to meet his brothers, be in the same car as them, come to an auction. He remembers seeing you bloody and a mess. Guilt and rage had filled him up. He couldn’t hold himself back from shooting the guy. When he stitched you up, he liked that you tried to make conversation. You knew when to back up, you never pried. He didn’t know if that was fear of him or if that was just you. He hoped the latter. He liked the way you said Mr. Shelby, though he often wondered how his first name would sound falling off your lips. Thomas Shelby pushes these feeling aside as he drives. He tells himself he just doing this as favor to his sister and because you can be very valuable. But as he drives into the city, a piece of his mind whispers that that just might not be the only case.

 *****************************************************************************************

 Three fucking days. You couldn’t believe that that’s how long it lasted. The torture, the beatings. They released you on the thought that you really didn’t know anything. You never said a word. They drove you out to the fucking country side and dropped you off like you were trash. You were never more humiliated in your life. You walked, each step bring you pain and anguish. But you kept going.

 ‘Its Friday’ You think to yourself. You never got to call to confirm if you were going on that dinner. You laugh at yourself. Out of all things to worry about.

 You find a little pond as you were walking and attempt to wash your face off all the dirt and blood. You looked half decent.

 It took you till sundown to get back into London. People in the streets gawked at your face. You knew you were bruised pretty bad. Worse than before thanks to the inspector. The stitches on the right side of your body were now leaking. You can see the blood drip slowly through your hand. You sigh. Its always one problem after the next.

Once in front of the house, you see all the lights on. Something you knew Ada hated. You see multiple people moving about and you curse underneath your breath. The last thing you wanted was to interact with people. Someone looks through the window, a young boy you didn’t recognize.

 “Is that her Ada?” You hear the boy loudly say not keeping his eyes off of you.

 As soon as the boy says that, a multitude of people rush out to the window to look out followed by a rushing to the door. Ada being the first to run into you, bear hugging you.

 “Where the hell have you been?” She cries out.

 You stay silent, your arms limp across your sides. No energy left to pick them up or say anything. You wished at that moment to escape into eternal darkness forever. You see a bunch of people behind her mostly men. All in black caps and coats.

 ‘Peaky blinders.” You think. You step back from Adas hug and move up the stairs toward the house. The men spread apart not wanting you to push through them. You walk up the rest of the stairs to your room slowly. You can feel all their eyes burn into your back.

 Once you reach your bedroom, you sit on your bed and stare at the empty wall. You couldn’t get the inspector eyes out of your head. It was like he enjoyed watching the life get beaten out of you. He talked a lot.  You replay the last three days in your head trying to piece together what that crazy old man was talking about as he was ‘interrogating’ you

 ***************************************************************************************

 As tommy walks through Adas door the first thing he realizes is that it seems that everyone is fucking here instead of doing their jobs. He watches them lounge about, eating and drinking away his sister’s stuff. He’s about to yell at them when Ada puts a hand on his shoulder.

 “Tommy She came home.” She says, he notices a lack of smile on her face.

 He raises an eyebrow.

 “She looks like she’s been beaten all over. I mean I only saw her face but the way she was walking…” Ada trails off biting her lip.

 “Im gonna talk to her.”

 “Tommy I don’t think-“

 Hes already at the top of the stairs before she finishes her sentence. Its not hard to figure out which room is yours. For reason being your room is the only one open. He sees your figure sitting up just staring at nothing in the dark. He clears his throat, not wanting to scare you with his unknown presence. You don’t turn around. He takes slow steps around to sit next to you on the bed. You both face the wall.

 “Its Friday,” you break the silence, “I apologize for not calling about dinner.”

 Right, he almost forgot that Alfie and Arthur were meeting right now.

 “Never mind that,” You suddenly get up as he talking, limping around the room, “what are you doing?”

 You light a candle on the other side of the room. He sees how bad your bruised face is in the light. And the blood trail your leaving with your freshly open hand.

 “(y/n), you should go see a doctor.” Thomas says standing up.

 “I’ve been through worse, Mr.Shelby.”

 “Who did this to you?” You notice the look of controlled anger on his face.

“Inspector campbell. Know him,” You ask sarcastically,” cause he really doesn’t like you.”

 You laugh and wince, the action hurting your ribs immensely, ”oh and he sure talked a lot. Kept mentioning a general, if I knew him, if I seen him, if you told me his name,” you pause, “what are you planning to do with a general?”

 He doesn’t answer you. The clocks in your brain keep turning. “Cause there’s only one thought that comes to my head.”

 “Why did he question you?”

 “Cause you took me to the fuckers house. And your being followed by the way.” A pain strikes through your head the more frustrated you become.

 “You should lie down.”

 “What did you get yourself into?”

 “it doesn’t concern you.”

 “Look at me, how does it not?”

He stares at you and though to you he looks emotionless, inside the feeling of guilt and fear are swirling. You on the other hand cant decipher anything that going on behind those eyes.

‘maybe this what he looks like when he is lost.’ You think. You know you could lend a hand through this, whatever it is. You assume an assassination. One the police are having a hand in themselves. When inspector Campbell was ‘questioning’ you, you noticed how it didn’t seem like he cared for the generals life but feared of who got a whiff of the info. It seemed that Mr. Shelby was getting something from it, maybe with you helping so can you. A ticket out of here perhaps.

 “what do you want?” He says shrugging.

  “I want to help.”

read pt.9

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @evelyn-4034 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

[lifblogs]

Whumpay 2021: Day 30 - Breaking Voice / Stoicism

Hide the Pain

read on ao3 1744 words star wars, the clone wars, post-zygerria arc, anakin skywalker, angst, ptsd, implied/referenced rape/non-con, slavery mention, alcohol use

“And that is all that happened on Zygerria and Kadavo?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin did his best to keep his face completely plain, stoic. When he spoke, he tried to fill his voice with respect, “Yes, Master.” Though that word: master. It was like curdled milk on his tongue, going down to fester in his belly.

Thankfully he hadn’t had to use that word around the queen, but it had been everywhere. Nothing but slavery.

“Thank you, Skywalker. You’re free to go.”

He bowed, and then left the Council chambers, feeling sick enough to collapse, or to perhaps go back in there and tell them all off for sending him, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Rex into that mess.

It wasn’t fair! And why him? Their answer before sending him to Zygerria was that he was the one who had discovered the missing Togrutas, so he had insight on the mission. By insight they had probably also meant that he knew how the whole slave business worked.

So Anakin had tried to pretend that he was alright with playing the part of a slaver, had told himself that master was a good title for him. But really, being forced to make his Padawan dress like that, and presenting her to the slaver queen. It was one of the many heavy burdens he now carried with him.

Ahsoka had mentioned that she would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating, trying to center herself after all they’d been through. So he decided to leave her in peace and quiet. Obi-Wan was in the Halls of Healing. Anakin decided that’s where he would go. He couldn’t go back to his cluttered room and pretend everything was fine, couldn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments or her office. She would touch him, expect him to touch her. And he wanted to. Blast, he wanted to, and yet… Queen Miraj Scintel was stuck in his head like some infection.

He couldn’t see his wife. Not yet.

Truthfully, Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to see anyone, but he knew Obi-Wan had been tortured, so it was only right to visit him.

He was in a white tunic and pants when he entered the room he’d been given. He was surprised to see that Rex was there as well. Both looked weary, but most of their wounds were now light scars.

Anakin forced a smile onto his face, even while his blood boiled inside and his stomach churned.

Remain calm. Don’t let them see.

Obi-Wan started getting up to greet him, but Anakin waved it off.

“No, lay still. Rest.”

Rex saluted him. “General.”

Anakin saluted back. “Surprised to see you here, Rex.”

“Well, since I was so involved with the mission the Council thought I should stay close.”

“I’m glad. I hear the Halls of Healing have much better care than the military hospital.”

Rex leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. He shifted in his bed, and let out a sigh, eyes closing contentedly.

“That we can definitely agree on.”

Anakin went and patted his shoulder, and then went to Obi-Wan. He took a seat by his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, though it was a thin, weary thing, nothing but a mask. “Seeing as I no longer feel like I got shot, whipped, and beaten, I think I’ll be fine.”

Anakin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master. I was leading the mission, and—”

Obi-Wan held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t carry that guilt with yourself. I took risks I thought necessary, and well, I paid for them.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat bland, noncommittal tone as he leaned back against his pillows. “How’s Ahsoka?”

“Mostly unhurt. She was treated for dehydration, but she’ll be fine. She’s meditating.”

“Good, and you?”

Anakin paused. His heart beat wildly, and for a few moments he worried that his former master could hear it. Why were they even keeping up this charade? None of them were truly fine. Anakin could sense it, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame and guilt. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and focused he would be able to see Kadavo, see glimpses and brief flashes of the tortures he had gone through.

He tried to force a smile on his face, but he felt it was more like a grimace. So then he kept his features stone cold. His insides boiled, and burned.

“I’m fine.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Mm hmm.” Obi-Wan peeked around Anakin, and asked, “Captain, do you perhaps feel well enough to give us some privacy?”

Rex peeped open an eye and then got up with only a little difficulty. “I was thinking of taking a walk anyway, General.”

“Very good. Enjoy your walk.”

After Rex left, Anakin sighed, lowering his head. He didn’t want to face his former master.

“Anakin, on Zygerria… what happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I sense much anguish for nothing to have happened.”

Anakin swallowed roughly, and shook his head. “Just forget it.” His voice was gruff, not at all the hard phrik ore like he’d wished to display.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, voice gentle. “Please, Anakin.”

“I should go,” he said, getting up and making to leave.

“I want to help you!”

“You can’t.”

Anakin left, insides like a hot furnace, like fire and lava deep within a planet’s core. Darkness festered in it, and he wanted to rip his very skin off.

He wandered, blind to where he walked, until he found himself outside Yoda’s meditation room.

Before he could knock, he heard Yoda say, “Come in.”

Anakin entered.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin went to take a seat across from him. The blinds were half-open, letting in some of Coruscant’s light.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Questions, have you?”

“Why, Master?” he asked, all of the hardness he’d tried to build around him melting, liquid ore bursting forth. What he was left with was a broken voice, and tears building up in his eyes, the sensation pinching at his sinuses.

“The will of the Council, it was.”

“Yes, but why? Why send me? Why send any of us? You know my past. How could you do this to me! How could the Council—!”

Yoda held up a small green hand.

“Peace, young one.”

Anakin snarled at him, but quieted himself.

“Against this mission, I was. Hurt you it would, I feared. This pain you feel, from things you did not speak to the Council of, is it?”

Anakin nodded.

“What happened to me…” He clenched his jaw, and turned away. He couldn’t admit it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. “It shouldn’t have… I wish…”

“Know this, I do. Sorry, I am, as we all should be.”

“You think the rest of the Council is going to feel that!” Anakin shouted, getting to his feet, waving his arm about. “In the end, they agreed to send me there. Did they aim to hurt me? Is that what’s going on?”

“Young one—”

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin snarled. He knew he was young, yet he didn’t feel it. Not after all the horrors he’d been through, and not after his… his nights spent with the queen. “There is something wrong here,” he admitted. “With—with the Council, with all of it, if the leading vote was that I, a former... slave, should go on that kind of mission.”

“Insight, they thought you had.”

“Yeah, sure. Insight into all the pain and torture, and how humiliating and debasing it is! I had to expose my own Padawan to that! It—it dredged up things I wanted to forget.”

“But forget the past, we must not. Accept it, and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to accept it when it’s shoved in my face like that? When I’m forced to… When I’m…” Anakin trailed off, holding in a sob. Part of his voice came out as a whimper.

“Young Skywalker, these experiences you had, part of you they are now.”

“I don’t want them to be,” he ground out.

“For us to decide, that is not. To truly be a Jedi, accept who we are, accept the past, we must. Trust in the Force.”

Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force? Was that the only answer he was going to get? Anakin trusted in the Force, day after day, and yet hadn’t it betrayed him? Hadn’t the Jedi betrayed him?

“Forgive me, Master,” he said, bowing, needing to be alone. “I should not have troubled you.”

Despite Yoda’s admonitions, Anakin left.

Time slipped past him in agonizing moments, every noise setting him on edge, making him want to fight, freeze, or simply run and hide. He wanted to lash out at everyone, at the universe. He held it in, letting it rot in him with the blackness Miraj Scintel had put in him with her touches.

Hours later he found himself at a bar, not even sure where he was. He just knew he needed another drink.

Wobbling in his seat, he called over the bartender and ordered another shot of whatever it was he was putting in his body—spotchka, maybe. The bartender began to refuse, and Anakin just passed him more credits, hoping that would be enough to stay his worries.

A shot of blue liquid that glowed and twinkled in the dim light was passed to him, and Anakin drank it greedily. The alcohol was poison, but why not add to the poison already there? It was already going to kill him, surely.

His comlink beeped, someone wanting to speak with him. He ignored it, but a few minutes later, it went off again.

Anakin turned from the bar, and answered.

“Anakin, where are you?”

“Padmé?” he questioned, voice not wanting to come out, but it did so anyway.

“I heard you got back from your mission hours ago. Where are you? Why haven’t you visited?” Suddenly, a brawl started up in front of him, and there was cheering and yelling. “Are you—are you in a bar?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Anakin, come home. Please. I want you to talk to me. What happened on that mission?”

“Nothing.”

“Anakin, I—”

He broke the connection, sneered at the bar fight, and went back to his drink. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his pain.

[bagelbright-tok]

In Passing

An interaction. A single word uttered. Somehow, these simple actions had innocent civilians killed. The horror on The Joestar Group's faces when they see the dead familiar ones on the floor of DIO's mansion.

[Large blocks of italics are past memories/events. Normal blocks of texts are the present.]

This is NOT a reader insert fiction.

Word Count: 1703

Warning(s): Mentions of death, guilt, mentions of decomposing bodies, nude dead bodies, blood, DIO

__

Bystander __

"Ma'am! You dropped this!" Joseph rushed over to the middle aged lady, waving a wallet around.

She turned around to face him, surprised by his shouting. "Oh? Oh! Oh dear! Thank you, sir!"

She thanked him for returning her wallet, and left.

Joseph never got her name.

· · ·

"Are you sun-tanning in that uniform?" A feminine voice interrupted Kakyoin's peace and silence.

Her shadow blocked the sun, and caused the redhead to open his eyes and look at the lady who was only three years older than him. She wasn't mean. In fact, she had a slight smile on her face.

Kakyoin sat up. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Just curious, is all." She shrugged and sat in the chair nearby. "That uniform. It's a gakuran, right? Japanese?"

Kakyoin was surprised to meet someone who could identify his outfit. "Oh.. Yeah, it is.."

Not only are Stands a power. Knowledge is power. "My name's Lillian."

The worst part was getting her name.

· · ·

"..."

"..."

It was the absolute silence between them that had them interested. In a silent, small, library in the hospital, Avdol sat across from another man. The both of them were obviously recovering patients. Able to wear some of their outfit, but still in some sort of gown. Avdol had bandages around his neck. This man had bandages around his arms, some on his face, and a brace on his right leg. Crutches were nearby the man.

Avdol couldn't help but look up at the man in curiosity. How could such a calm and silent man have been in such an accident? Perhaps this man was thinking the same of Avdol. Whenever Avdol looked down, the man looked up from his book. At some point, they made eye contact. The simple gesture of waving made them return to their books.

They hadn't even uttered a word.

· · ·

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Polnareff hollered at the man who had bumped into him.

He was just trying to enjoy the walk when this man had seriously pooped the party.

"Me? Watch where you are going!" The man yelled back.

And just like that, they were at each other's throats. Like two dogs fighting for a piece of meat. Except, they weren't fighting for anything. It wasn't until they actually bumped heads and fell backwards that they realized how ridiculous the situation was. On the ground, they looked at each other with processing eyes.

Then they started laughing. Genuine laughter at how absurd the situation was. "Man, I am so sorry for bumping into you!" The man got up and went to Polnareff to help him out.

"No, no! I was overreacting. No one is at fault here!" Polnareff accepted the man's helping hand and stood up.

"Darian Kline. Nice to meet you."

"Jean-Pierre Polnareff. Nice to meet you too, Darian." They hadn't just met each other. They spent the rest of the day walking and chatting. Having laughs.

He had gotten a friend that day.

· · ·

"Please, sir! Please help!" A lady had come bolting down the nearly empty street towards Jotaro.

The teen was ready for a fight. He didn't know who to trust. However, he quickly realized he wasn't under attack. He summoned his Stand, but the lady paid no mind to it, and even ran through it without batting an eye.

"Hm?" Jotaro grunted curiously.

"God! My ex and his friends are chasing after me. Please, just play my friend or boyfriend! I just need protection!" She pleaded to him, hands together.

"C'mon babe! We're just messing around! You know us! We just wanna have some fun." His tone was sinister and it was obvious his intentions were anything but fun.

The lady looked back at where the voice was coming from. Along with the voice were other tones of laughter. She looked back at Jotaro with desperate eyes. Jotaro looked back down at her and simply nodded. The lady was relieved beyond description. She twirled around Jotaro, now sticking to his backside. Her ex and his friends had come around, jogging a bit. They quickly stopped though at the unexpected sight of Jotaro. The 17 year old that looked 35. His built and tall form was intimidating enough. But his glare and very being wanted to send the gang running.

"Whoa, whoa! Hey big guy! I'm just trying to help my girlfriend." The ex stepped forward, trying to explain his lie to Jotaro. "She's having a mental break." He twirled his finger around his head, indicating that the lady may be crazy.

"Your girlfriend?" Jotaro asked. "Last I checked, she was mine."

The man's uneven smile dropped. He was in deep shit now. The game of the mind. Who had the better lies.

"Oh yeah?" His drunken smirk reappeared. "What's her name?" He asked tauntingly.

Jotaro had to pause for a moment. She never mentioned it. "Laura… Laura… Laura.." The lady- Laura- whispered quietly under her breath. Jotaro could only hear it because of Star Platinum.

With the most confidence a man could give, Jotaro responded. "Laura." He took a step forward. "Now what do you want with her? Hm?"

The men were now scared shitless. "N-nothing! We were just- uh- you know-" The men took off running without finishing their explanation.

The lady chuckled with relief. She moved from Jotaro's back to his front. "Thank you so much! I really owe you one."

"It's no problem.." Jotaro's monotone voice echoed through the night.

"It's a big deal for me. If you ever want, you can go to the bar nearby, "Pane." I work there and you can get a drink on the house!" She happily explained to Jotaro.

An invitation he couldn't deny. Jotaro nodded. "Good grief, lady. Alright. I'll go sometime." He pulled his hat down and didn't bother to watch the lady walk past him.

In the end, he didn't even save her.

· · ·

"Whoa. Weird lookin' dog." A kid spoke, not a metre away from Iggy. "Do you have a home, doggy?"

Iggy growled at the kid and tried to walk away. The kid followed. Iggy barked at the kid, trying to tell him; "Hey! Fuck off!"

The kid didn't understand though. Luckily enough for Iggy, the mother of the kid was nearby and stopped the child from reaching Iggy. "No Ezra! The dog probably has fleas. I don't want you getting sick because of a stray mutt on the street."

Iggy growled under his breath, "Bitch."

Not even they deserved it.

· · ·

The Crusaders entered the mansion. It was dark, barely lit by the candle light in the rooms. A few steps in, and there was a horrifying stench. It smelled of rot and iron. Not even Iggy could handle it. It didn't click until they reached a room completely full of candles. On the floor were several dead bodies. Some had dried blood pooled around them. Some of them lacked blood and looked like raisins. Most of them lacked clothes. The fact they had walked into a room of dead bodies was bad. What made it worse was who the dead bodies were.

The middle aged lady whom Joseph returned her wallet to. They didn't talk for more than a minute. Joseph never got her name. He barely recognized her face. Still, the thought of just having interacted with her being the reason she was dead, was terrifying.

Lillian. The woman who was only three years older than Kakyoin and Jotaro. Her blood was sucked dry and the look of fright was glued to her face. She and Kakyoin talked for several minutes. He had her name. He knew her face. He thought he made a friend. Now she was gone and Kakyoin was dumbfounded. The dread already coursing through his body was obvious.

The man whom Avdol had waved at. They never spoke. They barely looked at each other. They only waved in the library. The anguish already washing over Avdol was immense. This man's naked dead body was in DIO's mansion because of Avdol. This man was removed of his blood. Stripped of his very life for waving at Avdol.

Darian Kline. Polnareff's newly acquired friend. Dead. He was on the floor with dried blood around him. He looked mangled, like he'd been seriously beaten. It was disgusting. The way he died. The reason he was dead in the first place. It was just a silly incident. A small event of happenstance and realization. Polnareff was supposed to talk to this man after defeating DIO. The only reason that wouldn't have happened, is if Polnareff died, not this innocent man.

Laura. A simple bartender who needed help getting away from her ex. Jotaro thought he helped her. Never in his dreams would he have thought that this act would have killed her. If he had known, what would he have done? What could he have done? This lady who was just trying to survive in God's cruel world was now dead in this room. Naked, abused, and used. Her blood was gone, whatever remaining being small drops dried to the ground. Jotaro wanted to vomit. It felt like he'd been hit with a freight train. He wanted this feeling to end. He looked away. But it didn't go away.

Iggy was frustrated. Why go for two insignificant people that barely crossed his path? A kid and their mother. The kid having just been killed and tossed aside. The mother having been drained of her blood. They'd done nothing to deserve DIO's wrath. Done nothing but mistake Iggy for a normal dog. It was infuriating.

The guilt flowing through everyone was radiating. The idea of wanting to cry not sounding half bad. Bystanders. People who interacted in passing. Did nothing but acknowledge the crusaders. Had a small chat. Gave a name. Never gave a name. Became friends. Offered a drink. Waved. None of them were Stand users. None of the Crusaders considered these innocent people as aids in their adventure.

Despite it, DIO saw them as enemies just for interacting with the Joestar group. And for that, they were punished with the curse of death. Forever lasting. Never ending.

---

E N D A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one! It has been ready for weeks now, I just hadn't the time to actually post it. To you who has requested, I am working on it! Thank you for requesting, hopefully I will have it out within the next few weeks! Apologies if this looks wonky, I used the beta mode on Tumblr for this one.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Secrets & Fury || Morgan & Blanche Feat. Agnes Bachman

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Bachman House Ruins

PARTIES: @harlowhaunted & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Blanche make contact with the past. The truth is not meant to soothe.

CONTENT: brief mentions of suicide

The only thing left of what had once been the Bachman House was a few outer support beams and a wall, sticking out of the ground in a way that wouldn’t have been possible unless the ground swallowed the house whole. Which, in fairness, it did. Blanche remembered Morgan, Cassie, and herself throwing themselves out of the home and into the adjacent garden as the ground trembled and swallowed the cursed house… Blanche had never asked Morgan where the house went. Was the house still lingering below the soil or had it disappeared somewhere else entirely? Blanche stared at the dirt, grimacing at the patches of weeds that had feebly tried to break through to no avail, and decided that she would ask ahat at different time. There were no spirits here, not this time. The cool chill that ran up Blanche’s spine from time to time was the cold December air… And the dark, leafless trees that loomed around the area as if they were watching her. As Blanche painstakingly drew the circle in the dirt, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was doing this in front of an audience. Like this was a final test to see if it was worth it -- if she was worth it.

The silver, jeweled barrette kept her blonde hair out of her face, and every once in a while, she would reach up to run her fingers along the smooth, teal gemstones encrusted on the trinket. It made her feel better. Blanche remembered what Jasmine said about Focal Points, and even if it was false, at least it gave her peace of mind. At least it brought her closer to the one she missed most of all. Even that made her feel more powerful than before.

This was what she was doing when Morgan arrived. Blanche glanced at her, her hand falling back to her side as she gave her a strained smile. “Hey,” she said softly, and she grabbed her pink lighter from her pocket. Time to light the candles. “You can put it in the middle of the circle. What you brought of Agnes’, I mean.”

Morgan had tried to come early. She hadn’t been to the old Bachman house for even a drive-by hello since it had tried to collapse with her, Blanche, and Cassie in it. She couldn’t see the place as a benign victim of circumstance after having to face off against Hannah Bachman, hearing the ways she mimicked her own mother in her brand of cruelty. Pulling alongside the street now made her feel as though the wood and nails had been as complicit as Constance in the horrible things that had happened here. What she had expected to find, to get used to, she wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that Blanche had beaten her to the punch and settled into a circle inside the ruins. That’s what happened when you got too anxiously punctual people together, she guessed. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said wryly. “Our appointment isn’t for another ten minutes, Blanche.” She reached into her bag and took out the arm bone she had stolen from Agnes’ grave, wrapped in fabric. Deirdre had been able to identify her with just a touch: thick dark hair like Morgan’s, large eyes that were brown instead of blue, and an anguished look as she laid down in a rickety bed and worked a pillow around half her face, a pistol in her hand. She had been crying, Deirdre said. Morgan couldn’t think of any other way she might have gone, not with what she’d been made to live with. “Genuine, banshee-identified great great grandma Agnes,” she said softly. Agnes’ family title sounded strange, knowing that she had died only a few years older than Morgan. They felt more like equals now, women who had been ground up and bent into the wrong shape, who were tired, who just needed to catch a break for once. Morgan sat down just outside the circle, careful not to disrupt any of the markings. “You um...when you bring them here, you don’t have to see how they died, right Blanche? I mean, she’ll look…” Like there’s a massive exit wound on the side of her skull. “How she did when it happened. But that’s not something you have to carry, is it?” Morgan asked.

“I’m nothing if not efficient,” Blanche replied. The grin on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, though she was pleased to see that Morgan looked alright. Blanche had been here for forty-five minutes already, but she wasn't’ about to tell Morgan that - she sought out the flattest part of the ruins and spent an absurdly long time drawing the circle. She looked sharply at Morgan, the question burning in her throat. How did great, great Grandma Agnes die? Not that it mattered, because she would do the seance no matter what, but she couldn’t help but think of the bullet wound inside Sammy’s skull and Winn’s chest, and how Bea’s head never sat quite right on her shoulders… But Blanche shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty gruesome deaths,” she said. Blanche didn’t know Agnes, so she hoped her appearance wouldn’t stay burned into her memory like her friends. There was some part of her that knew this wasn’t true, she remembered spirits maimed in all sorts of ways… But as Blanche finished lighting her candles, she stood, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “She’ll look how she chooses too,” Blanche said, “If she’s been around since she died… Then she’ll probably have learned to change her appearance by now. But if she hasn’t or she doesn’t want too…” Blanche reached to fiddle with the hair clip in her hair again, chewing on her lip in thought. “That’s her choice. It won’t prevent us from doing what we’re here to do.” She examined her circle for the upteenth time, looking for imperfections. She could find none. With a small breath, she looked back to Morgan. “Are you ready, Morgan?” She waited for Morgan to nod, before going to settle into the dirt.

Blanche took a few deep breaths, glancing over at Morgan to really make sure she was ready, before she began reciting the sanskrit. The power Blanche felt flowing through her and the circle was almost on par with the deep seeded resentment in her soul. It was strange and exciting and somehow different than when they had been in her apartment. It was a mistake, Blanche decided, to not have come here the first time. Wind howled around them, the flickering of the candles erratic but never going out as it circled them. She was clear headed, drawing her energy from the back of her mind - rather, the back of her head, she supposed, where her great grandmother’s clip lay. She focused on that as she opened the portal of communication, the chilling wind whining in protest as she pushed forward. It was tiring, but slowly, a woman flickered into sight. Slowly, her transparent form grew stronger, and Blanche could make out her features and the frumpy old clothes she wore. With a push forward, Blanche ended the opening of the ritual.

“Are you Agnes Bachman?” Blanche asked, glanced at Morgan for confirmation before anything else.

Morgan kept her eyes trained on the center of the circle, like letting her hair blow the wrong way might turn everything around for the worse. She heard the wind in her ears, saw the small candle flames surge on their wicks. Doubt gnawed in her stomach, she’s not coming, she’s not here and she’s not coming and I’m never gonna know what really happened. Shit, was she awful for trying to reach out with her will and pull her toward them? For wanting her to be stuck here all this time, just to have someone she could talk to? Morgan didn’t have time to find an answer inside herself. A silhouette formed in a circle, then a face.

“Oh, shit…”

Agnes Bachman didn’t have a hole in her head. Her wavy hair hung just below her jaw, styled in waves Morgan had seen in fashion panels from the 1910’s. She had loose housecoat, or maybe it was just a regular day coat that had been retired after getting too big and patchy, hung heavy on her frame. (Morgan couldn’t figure out how that worked, the woman before her didn’t have a body, so how could anything be loose or tight or anything in between? And yet just from looking at her, Morgan could imagine the pointy ends of her joints and the ridges on her stomach from going hungry on and off for years.) She had a bemused half smile, one that was way past surprise, and a face that looked hauntingly like the one Cece had pulled out of the magic trunk. “It’s you,” Morgan whispered. “This whole time, I’ve been looking at… Agnes.”

“Is there someone else I would be?” Agnes asked. She had a high, tired kind of voice, not unlike the wind that had swelled around them only a minute ago. It was a reedy voice, torn up from too many cigarettes. Smoking was unladylike in Agnes’ time, but maybe she’d stolen her husband’s cigarettes, or bummed some off people with more money. Maybe after a certain point she had decided not to care. She looked around, taking in what was left of the house, the hole in its core, the stars above and the jagged, splintered ruins reaching through it like so many broken fingers. “I remember this place.” She scoffed, smirking. “It feels a shame I’m not more surprised to see it in pieces. You’re supposed to bond with the place you grow up. It’s how you maintain your ties with the earth.” She turned back to them, gesturing self consciously around her temples. “Is anyone gonna tell me what this party’s about...?” The smile she gave each of them was thin, like she was afraid something bad was going to happen. How often had she been blamed or yelled at for Constance’s mess? “One of you has to know something, if you’re pulling me cross-country to my old house.”

“Y-yes. I mean...we...uh…” Morgan fumbled for words and gaped at Blanche, silently asking for help.

Awestruck by her success, Blanche stared at Agnes in a sort of wonder. The wind grew calm around them, still lightly tugging at loose hairs and flame to let them know it was still there. She had done it. She pulled Agnes Bachman back here. Blanche gaped right back at Morgan, suddenly speechless herself. All coherent thoughts flew out of her head and suddenly she forgot how to speak any language whatsoever.

“Wha-” Blanche stuttered, and then realized she was the one supposed to be running this ‘party’. She almost leapt to her feet, but stayed rooted to the spot so she wouldn’t jostle the circle. “Agnes,” Blanche tried again. “My name is Blanche Harlow. I’m a local medium in White Crest. This is Morgan Beck, she’s your great, great Granddaughter. I’ve… We, rather… We’ve contacted you because we want to ask you about the past, specifically relating to Constance Cunningham.” Her words were formal, but they were at least confident.

“Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

Agnes hadn’t stopped looking at Morgan since she’d appeared. Morgan straightened her shoulders under her gaze and angled her head this way and that, trying to find the angle that would give her the most ‘respectable impressive descendant’ look, not that she knew what that was. Agnes smirked at Blanche’s fumbling and Morgan noticed an array of little smile wrinkles that gave her some comfort. She must have been happy, or something like it, for a little while.

“I should tell you,” Agnes said, leaning in with a conspiratorial look, “I told my kids not to settle down, so they maybe wouldn’t have any of their own. But I’m not surprised they didn’t listen to me. Kids never do, so don’t get any ideas.” She squinted taking in more of Morgan. “But that’s not going to be a problem for you, is it, sweetie?”

“No,” Morgan whispered. “I mean, I have a...I haven’t really discussed it with my girlfriend, we’re gonna wait fifty, maybe a hundred years first. That’s the kind of family planning you get with a zombie and a banshee!” She laughed, shrill and pained. Was this how you were supposed to talk to your grandmother? Did it matter when she only looked five years older than you? “I died. Because of the family curse. Seven months and change, so I’m still adjusting. But it’s fine! I mean, it’s not, but it will be.” She gripped her wool skirt, fighting the urge to crawl closer to Agnes.

“Girlfriend, you say? I’ve seen things get better for some girls like that in the last hundred years. I should’ve figured it ran in the family. Mama was right about something after all.” The smirk she gave was bitter, scratching an old scab on her heart, and if Morgan hadn’t already heard about Hannah Bachman’s dismay from Leah, she would’ve seen the cut her response had left in Agnes’ face. “Your death, sweetie, does that mean the magic doesn’t touch you anymore? Whatever you and your girl do, are you safe from it?”

Morgan nodded, eyes beginning to well. “Yeah, we are. The curse didn’t follow me after. We’re good. It’s just uh…” She looked sidelong at Blanche. “It’s Constance? She’s here and she is…” Evil. Cruel. A walking nightmare. “Really, really determined to make up for what her curse can’t do anymore. And I...we were wondering...if you could tell us what really happened. I read Lucrecia’s diary, but I want the truth from you. And before you say anything, I don’t blame you. I don’t know where it started in the family, but I know you didn’t deserve to carry this like it was all your fault, and I don’t blame you for what she did.”

Agnes straightened up. “I can’t talk about Constance,” she said flatly. “And the person who started that story was me, because it was true.” She turned to Blanche. “Can you put me back somewhere? It doesn’t have to be home, I don’t much like my new grave. But somewhere else, please.”

Blanche thanked every God that may or may not have existed that she had excellent memory recall. She backed off of Agnes, ready to do what she, as a private investigator trainee, did best: listened. The true extent of the Bachman curse had been made apparent to her when Morgan died violently in the middle of town and became a zombie, but Constance never put into thought that there could be life after death… Funnily enough, Blanche hadn’t put that much thought into it either, before she met Remmy. Blanche rested her hands in her lap, leaning forward on her knees as she concentrated on keeping the line of connection open.

“You can’t talk about Constance? Or you won’t talk about Constance?” Perhaps Blanche’s voice was a little sharper than it needed to be, but she wasn’t here to pull punches. She was here for the truth. After the truth was known… Well, then she could deal with Agnes. Agnes, from what she felt, would need to move on. But one ghost problem at a time. This seance wasn’t for Agnes, it was for Morgan. And, to an extent, though Morgan could never find this out, it was for Constance too. Constance deserved closure and peace - the last thing Blanche wanted for her was to Cordelia or Lauren Langley.

Blanche leaned back, her head tilting to the side slightly as she examined the ghost. “Don’t you want to make sure the right one is known?” Maybe she didn’t, though. Blanche pressed her lips together for a moment. “I won’t be sending you anywhere,” she said, “Until we get some answers. And I’ll have you know… I’m very persistent.”

“Is there much of a difference as far as you’re concerned?” Agnes asked. Her squinting gaze turned on Blanche, running up and down to appraise her. Morgan’s mother had a similar look when she was trying to worm out of a conversation she didn’t want to have, but Morgan didn’t get the sense that Agnes was looking for points of weakness or ways to hurt Blanche. It looked more like she was working a puzzle. “If people think badly of me, it’s because I got the ball rolling. I don’t have any right to be sore about any tall tales that have gotten rolled into the truth.” She looked at Morgan again, smiling in a sad way that made the zombie’s heart lurch. “You should blame me. And I am sorry, I will always be sorry, for my part in your death. Even if it means you get to wait a hundred years to have a family with a woman you love--” she paused, staring off somewhere Morgan couldn’t follow. “It shouldn’t cost you what it has. Death is too high a price, especially after what you must have suffered. It’s not much of a life to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” Morgan whispered. “I know you’re...yes, I was miserable and I didn’t get to do anything I set out to, but you didn’t cast the spell. You didn’t take one falling out and turn it into a hundred plus years of--”

“No.” Agnes’ voice turned to rock while somehow never rising above her quiet. “No, Morgan. I’m not going to discuss it in those terms. Or at all.” Agnes looked over at Blanche, checking to see if her point had been effectively made, but Agnes had never gone up against Blanche ‘I do what I want’ Harlow. She withered under the young woman’s look and pursed her lips as her position sank in.

“Listen,” Morgan said gently. “I’m going to get her back for what she did to you, to all of us. However hurtful, however awful or complicated, it didn’t merrit what she did for retribution. I’m going to make sure she…” Morgan winced, not wanting to throw her position in Blanche’s face. Of all her friends, she had been the most honest, and the most kind, about her position. “I’m going to make us even.”

Agnes’ face dropped with horror. “You what? You can’t. Sweetie, whatever you’re up to, you can’t do that to her. You have no idea what she--It was my idea to run away! I made her take all the risks. Crafting the glamours that would make us look older, hiding the money I’d stolen in her tree, hiding travel clothes, securing our transport. My mother watched me at all times, I was afraid we wouldn’t stand a chance if I slipped away somewhere I couldn’t explain. I was selfish and I was scared and I made her do everything for me, and then I--” She looked helplessly at Blanche again, her wish transparent in her eyes: please, please. “I let her fall for me too,” she said. “We were caught, the morning we were set to leave. Constance told the truth and I--I didn’t. She had given a story and I knew we were sunk and I wouldn’t see the light of day for weeks unless I did something different. I--”

Agnes’ reedy voice seemed to snap. Her silent appeals to Blanche were going nowhere; the medium only stared her down harder than before. And every, “hey,” and “you don’t have to be afraid,” that Morgan gave only seemed to make her more desperate.

“I said she was kidnapping me. That she’d hurt me.” Agnes said at last. “We had stolen pistols from the Logan’s house to protect ourselves. I told my mother to check her reticule, where I’d told her to put them and she thought it was proof. I didn’t know they were going to tell everyone or turn her into a pariah. I thought she would be run out of town, dropped on the nearest cart, never to return. I had no illusion of being forgiven, but gods help me, I did not know my mother would leave her with nothing and make her live like some poor animal. When I realized, it was too late.” Agnes clenched her airy fists, fighting the impulse to cry. “I would like to go back now. Send me back now and have done with it.”

Morgan tried to reach for her, forgetting everything except how badly she wanted to know the woman in front of her. “No, you can stay, Agnes. It doesn’t matter what happened before—”

“Now. I want to be gone now. Please. I will not answer anything else. I won’t.”

Anger was an emotion Blanche was used to, and the more Agnes said, the more angry she got. Fury and disgust twisted into her stone faced expression as she sat there, her arms crossed as Morgan and Agnes conversed. Finally, with a wail, Agnes turned to her, begging to be set free. “Coward,” Blanche said unkindly. “You’re a coward.” Blanche pushed herself up to her knees, as if she was going to move to stand. She didn’t, however, because her energy was being spent in keeping the connection open. Still, Blanche’s eyes flashed angrily.

“I’m not naive enough to say Constance is blameless. Constance is to blame for a lot of things -- Morgan’s death and the subsequent death of others in her path for revenge - but you…” Blanche shook her head, “You chose wrong and you lied. You lied to save yourself and threw the one you loved under the bus.” Blanche scoffed in disgust. Never before had she felt such anger towards another ghost. The closest that came was Lauren Langley, but even that held a different sort of anger than the rage that bubbled in the pit of her stomach now. If she could, she’d throw a fist in Agnes’ face.

“You are not to blame for Constance’s actions,” Blanche said, folding her arms over her chest. “She is able to make her own decisions and do what she will but… You are to blame for hurting her. You are to blame for lying. You are to blame for the misery that was thrust upon her as punishment for a crime she did not commit. You lied because you were a coward. And that -” Blanche jabbed a finger at Agnes. “- Is what you should feel remorse for. That is what you need to reflect on. And then you’ll be able to move on.” While Constance was on a warpath for vengeance that would end up destroying her. It was hard not to blame Agnes for everything.

With a sweep of her hand, the wind howled around them, growing louder as Blanche recited the end of the ritual that would close the communication with Agnes. She didn’t want to hear what Agnes had to say, even as her pain stricken face was seared into Blanche’s mind even as she disappeared from the circle. The wind quieted and the candles surrounding them extinguished. The ritual was over. Blanche slumped back into the dirt, exhausted, but too angry to give in to sleep.

“All of this…” Blanche said, sneering at the place Agnes once stood. “Because of a cruel lie…”

Morgan flinched at Blanche’s words as if they had cracked against her skin. She called out her name, trying to interrupt, “That can’t be the whole story, there has to be something else…” But Blanche’s fury had found its target, and though Morgan couldn’t fathom why, she understood that it would not let go. “Don’t be cruel. Blanche, please!” But please only got Blanche to say the words that would send Agnes back to wherever she had been before. Morgan grasped at the air as Agnes vanished, her face shut and clenched with shame. Something in the air lifted, like heat diffusing a cold room. Morgan continued to stare into the circle. There had to be something else. Maybe Hannah Bachman was the real culprit, for making her daughter so afraid that she wanted to run away in the first place. Maybe Agnes had sensed something unstable, even dangerous in Constance and took her change to back out rather than run away with someone who was willing to sign off on the misery of generations of people. There had to be something, because if Morgan’s family had been right about Agnes, then how was she supposed to split her vengeance between them? Who was she destroying Constance for besides herself if Agnes had tried so hard to beg her not to? Morgan’s gaze dropped from the air where Agnes had just sat and down to her own hands: discolored around the nails because she was between meals, protected by gold cuff bracelets on her wrist, so no one would see the bite that made her what she was. Ruth Beck hadn’t cared a wit that she was going to be avenged, Morgan wasn’t even sure if she believed it. Morgan’s father had lost his last tie to the earth when he saw her happy with Deirdre. Deirdre herself insisted the choice was hers to determine. And now the memory of Agnes’ horrified face stood frozen in Morgan’s memory. Was it still fair, and still enough, if this was for her satisfaction and hers alone?

“She was just…” Young? Stars above, could Morgan really say that without it getting thrown back in her face two seconds later? “She was scared. She didn’t know what was going to happen and we don’t know why she really…” Threw someone she supposedly loved under the bus. If Hannah was so dangerous, enough to run away from, why wouldn’t Anges have figured out that Constance was going to suffer without her protection? Wouldn’t that have been obvious? Was her ignorance to the consequences just another lie too? Morgan shivered, frowning into the ground. She was long used to disappointment, but she hadn’t thought that meeting Agnes would leave her more confused than when she’d started. “I don’t know,” Morgan sighed. Nothing she put together in her mind fit the way she wanted it to. “Whatever, why-ever she really did anything, she paid for it with her life and a hundred years of being hated.” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Blanche, scrutinizing her expression. She had seemed more invested in Morgan’s family drama than she had before. Morgan had taken great care to keep her out of it as much as possible. “What was that all about, just a minute ago?” She asked gently. “I’ve never seen you like that with a ghost before. Is everything okay…?”

She was just - Blanche almost snarled the word ‘young’ right back at Morgan. Constance was just as young. She was nineteen. Blanche could remember, back in high school, where her only long term boyfriend broke up with her and how devastated she had been. If that situation had been anything like Agnes’, which it hadn’t, and Logan had wronged her in some type of way, Blanche would have wanted to curse him and his entire family too. The thought was snide, and filled with anger. She realized, with a start, that she was two seconds away from defending Constance’s honor, and that wasn’t right either. Constance had done wrong, Blanche reminded herself, her palms suddenly sweaty. She hadn’t meant to, mostly, of course. Maxine had been an unfortunate accident, and the incident with Nell… Blanche wanted to believe that she really didn’t know that Nell had been in the car until it was too late. And Morgan had said intentions matter. Blanche wanted to believe that, and she wanted Constance to give up this calling of vengeance on Morgan’s family because at the end of the day, Morgan hadn’t done anything wrong. Morgan hadn’t done this to Constance. Agnes, she thought the name with disgust, started this.

But that didn’t make Morgan’s target goal right either. She had the cold reminder that Morgan’s end goal was to torture and erase Constance from existence. The thought of her being in pain made Blanche… Well, it made her sick to her stomach. Constance didn’t deserve that. She needed to be at peace while she was still able. At least, then, she would be happy. She would be able to move past what Agnes had done, and it wouldn’t have to lock her into a toxic storm of resentment and fury.  At Morgan’s question, though, Blanche’s palms frew more sweaty, and she wiped them on her jeans. “I wasn’t wrong,” Blanche mumbled to her shoes, shaking her head. She refused to look at Morgan, instead turning to start gathering her things in her back. Her face had flushed, but it had been a little pink already from the anger she burst out with during the seance and from the exhaustion the clung to her. “In order to move on, Agnes needs to come to term with her choices she made while she was living. She can’t do anything to change them, not now,” Blanche’s lip curled in disgust as she carefully stuck the candles in her bag, straightening to sling it over her shoulder. She went to the magic circle she had so carefully carved into the dirt with a sharp stick and some chalk and destroyed it. While Blanche hadn’t listened to Granny’s teachings, she did remember that Granny said to never leave a circle unattended, just in case. Finally, she reached up and pulled the jeweled, silver hairpin from her hair, letting her blonde hair tumble down. Carefully, she put that in a separate pocket of her backpack. Her shoulders slumped tiredly and looked at Morgan, “I’ll talk to her again soon,” Blanche said, decidingly. “I’ll call upon her again and speak her more closely, once… this is all over.”

Silence froze and bristled around them; Morgan held her tongue. Blanche’s ire was hot and sharp as a needle fresh out of the fire. She didn’t have to say a word for Morgan to know she was angry at her too. For Constance. For being “unfair.” Maybe if she wasn’t the one crushed over her whole life and promptly murdered, Morgan could understand these good for nothing principles, or whatever strange projection was going on from Blanche’s angle. She’d confounded people on moral questions before. Only the stars above knew how many passes she gave Deirdre, and that was just for starters.

“No,” Morgan admitted quietly. “But I never said you were. That wasn’t my point.” The point was that Agnes’ mistake should have only destroyed two people, at most. Tragic, but contained. Constance had driven Agnes to the kind of misery that made her want to end her life. And then proceeded to do the same to every other Bachman descendant, those who weren’t horribly killed by her meddling out right. It was unbalanced to the point of grotesque. What pity, what understanding was there left when Constance’s last stand was with someone she’d never met, except to try and destroy? At least Morgan was taking a stand for her own family.

“If there’s another way to get Agnes to White Crest, some way she can be around without a circle, I’ll look after her so you don’t have to keep your hotel for ghosts open longer than you already have to. She’s my family, I should at least try to help her. I want to.” And she wanted to understand why Agnes was so opposed to her finishing this ugly game Constance had turned their lives into. Seeing Ruth’s total apathy at the news had been one thing, but Agnes’ horrified face sat heavy and sick in Morgan’s stomach. She shouldered her bag and dusted herself off, looking down at Blanche with guarded concern. “I still don’t know why you’re so determined to help me, but thank you, Blanche.” She reached out a hand to pull her up. “You need anything right now?” She asked quietly. The differences between them felt as strong as the similarities in this moment, certainly nothing that could be solved with a trip to a diner or a few twenties stuffed into Blanche’s bag. But Morgan was tired of losing people, and she had a sick, prickly feeling in her stomach, almost like guilt, and she was desperate to be rid of it.

It was a strange fury that had settled in Blanche’s stomach, and she didn’t understand it. Blanche knew Morgan held different opinions on the whole subject and that their end goals were different, so she wasn’t understanding why she was so upset at Morgan’s insistence that Constance was the only one in the wrong here. It wasn’t fair - none of this was fair. Perhaps Constance had been right in that the Bachmans - that Agnes Bachman and whatever that thing Cassie, Morgan, and Blanche had confronted in the house so many months ago - were the evil ones. Whatever that meant made Blanche’s head spin because she also knew that no matter what, killing Morgan was inexcusable. How was it possible to care so much for a ghost that did something so horrible to a friend? And was she so determined to help Morgan, or was she determined to help Constance? Couldn’t there be a way for her to help both? Why was the answer one or the other? Blanche was sick of having to choose and she was sick of having to ask herself hard questions and she was sick of having to think.

Not for the first time, Blanche felt that fuzzy, static feeling in her head.

“You could summon her, or she could travel herself,” Blanche finally said, her tone devoid of any true emotion. “What I just did isn’t anything other than opening a line of communication. If I don’t close the line, she could get stuck in the circle. That’s why, even after you dissipated wrong Agnes, I had to close the ritual. But it’s not a permanent means of keeping them here.” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook her head. Blanche was quiet a moment as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and looked at Morgan. There were words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite find them. Confusion and anger melded together, and Blanche realized that it might be better to not say anything at all. “I don’t need anything, no.” Blanche said. “I’m going to go home though, I’m… I’m tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she realized. She was exhausted, and Blanche wondered if she hadn’t overdone it. There was supposed to be a balance so she didn’t feel like complete shit afterwards. But as she turned on her heel, giving a quiet goodbye to Morgan as she trudged back to her jeep, she started to think that maybe the energy she spent on the seance wasn’t the only reason why she didn’t feel well.

[madllamamomma]

Journey Back to the South Part7~

[SO, no Smut this chapter (it’s coming... haha...), I guess SWF, if you don’t mind violence and profanity... lots of FLUFF!]

The Highwayman~

While Muriel and Shawn are still making their way down the hill; Unbenounced to Shona, Ava stands frozen behind her as she continues to yell at you relentlessly through her swelling tears with such rage. “...WHY DO YOU THINK THEY CAN’T SPEAK ANYMORE?! IT WAS BECAUSE AVA SAVED ME FROM A DISGUSTING BIRD-NOSED, BURGUNDY-EYE, PALE-FACED, TRAVELISH HIGHWAYMEN WHO ATTACKED ME!!!” A large tea finally drips down her pretty face, softening it for a movement as she drops her gaze to the icy ground. Soon the tears start to freely flow down her cheeks. “...It’s my fault that my twin sister almost died!!! And I won’t let that ever happen again to them or anyone else in my cla—”

Shona stops mid-word, finally taking notice of you looking behind her and she slowly turns around. Ava is just beaming at Shona with intense devastation on their face. She locks eyes with her sister, and a large artic-like breeze floats over the frigid grass and forget-me-notes on the hillside as a very tense silence takes over. You start to see snow flurries start to fall, looking up as the sky is grey so suddenly. The solstice is in three days… and Winter is already starting to show its face. Shona visibly shivers from head to toe, but it’s not from the icy wind. She then sharply shakes her head then attempts to hastily walk off, but Ava grabs her wrist tightly before she could get away. “WHAT, AVA?!” Shona shouts, tearing her arm back, trying to stop her tears. Ava starts to quickly speak with their hands, somehow keeping their composure, their face is however filled with such pure anguish and emotion, it breaks your heart. But Shona just growls frustratedly. “—NO! It is my fault, Ava!!!” Shona seems to be a very level headed person to you. She is one of the eldest, she probably has to be… But even she has a breaking point apparently; it’s evident as she starts to completely unravel in front of you. A hard sob just overwhelms her as she continues to shout unable to stop herself. “...Everyone pretends that it isn’t my fault, Ava! Even you do!! Like- Like it didn’t even happen!.... But it did! It fucking did!! Everybody pretends that it’s just fine that you just can’t talk anymore!! You pretend that it's fine!!!—But I know you! I know you hate not being able to speak!” Ava’s eyes dart to the ground, their lips tighten into a deep mournful frown. “—I know how many times you’ve cried to yourself at night after Papa tells the old stories! I know how much you want to be up there with him!! I know that you do care! And we’ve never talked about it—EVER!! It’s so…. infuriating—!” Without warning Ava wraps their arms around Shona’s shoulders and hugs her tightly, eyes watery, face scrunched. “L-L….Let me go, Ava!!” She protests, attempting to fight herself out of Ava’s arms. But it's useless, they may be the same height, but Ava has more muscle and weight on Shona. It takes about a half minute until she stops flailing and begrudgingly accepting their embrace.

As Muriel and Shawn make it down the hillside. With tears also in your eyes, you reach out wanting to just comfort Shona, she’s in so much pain. But Muriel grabs your waist, and gently pulls you close to his chest. It’s a good thing that he did. It’s not really your place, you might even make her angrier. Lowering your hand you look up at Muriel’s face, half expecting rage like he had on top of the hill, but it seemed to have faded away. He feels it too, the pain that the twins have. It hurts. And you both feel pity for Shona. …Of course it was a Traveler.

But Shawn just glares at the twins with his brow a bit furrowed, something obviously on his mind. “What, Shawn?!” Shona scowls sharply wiping her tears, feeling her brother’s stare, but refusing to look at anyone.

Shawn takes in a deep breath with his nostrils flared, finally opening his mouth to speak, you've never seen him so upset. “Do you really think that, Shona?.... Do you think we don’t care?!—Of course we do!!!” He throws down the training staffs on the ground. “..We’ve tried talking about it, but you both wouldn’t!! Nothing has been the same since that day!!! Papa and Momma have never been the same!!! Keavy has never been the same!!! I’ve never been the same!!..... You have never been the same!” He pauses for a brief second, then swallows hard. “...My older sisters… My sisters almost died… for a few minutes that day… I really thought… that I became the eldest. And...I... I wasn’t ready for that!..... I wasn’t ready for my sisters to die! But…. in a way one did.” Shawn's eyes start to water and his voice cracks and shakes, but his brow is still narrow and a bit angry himself. “....Ava’s voice wasn’t the only thing that was lost that day!...” He chokes on his words as he fights back the tears. “I-... I lost my Shona… And I miss her.... I miss her so much.” Shona closes her eyes and buries her face in Ava’s fur cloak. Shawn is so much like Gilbert, usually pretty cheerful and happy. It’s jarring to see him this way. But he looks so hurt as well. Your chest feels so heavy. You want to help somehow, but… what can you do? You grasp Muriel’s hand over your waist and hold tight. He squeezes your waist tenderly, comforting you.

Shawn turns away and just stomps off towards the tundra, looking like he’s in such pain as he hides his tears.—It seems like it hurts the entire family harder than they lead on. The Kokhuri are strong, but they care so much for one another, their hearts are so big, they hurt when others do; you can even feel it in Muriel. He lets go of your waist, but still holds your hand and tugs you a long to chase after Shawn before he gets too far. It's good that he acted. You both may not be able to do anything constructive for the twins, but you can at least be there for poor Shawn. As you both catch up with him, Ava manages to lead Shona away back to camp. “...Hey.” Muriel grabs Shawn’s shoulder comfortingly and they both stop in their tracks as he cries a little, still facing away. He can’t help it. After a minute or two, he then straightens up and turns back around wiping his nose and eyes.

Shawn gives a sharp nod, appreciating Mureil’s comfort. “I-...I’m sorry, Cousin Muriel…And Rhemi… I—.”

“Don’t be, Shawn. It’s ok.” Muriel mutters calmly to him.

You take in a deep breath and look up into the sky as the snow flurries start to fall down a bit more. It doesn’t seem to be letting up, and it’s getting colder by the minute. “... Come on you two. Were obviously done for the day.” You murmur, grabbing Shawn’s parka sleeve and tug him along. “Do you like tea, Shawn?” You look up at him with a softy wary smile still walking as Muriel grabs the training staffs from the ground. 

He sniffles a little forcing a small grin. “...Yeah. I do... Some tea sounds…. sounds really nice, actually.” He says with a fake snort, attempting to regain his composure.

The three of you get to your and Muriel’s tent and you whip up some of your favorite blend of chai tea. It always seems to help with the cold. It’s quiet as you all sit around the fire and get warm, but then Shawn finally speaks again. “.... I was almost thirteen when it happened.” Muriel looks to him and hands him a cup, looking very genuine as he listens intently. “It was summer, we traveled closer to the Great Gate I think for trading… Shona and Momma make some parkas to sell…. These Highwaymen came out of nowhere at twilight… I just felt so powerless as they raided our tents… Shona found a few yards away from her tent and she was really badly beaten up…. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts for weeks. She even had a concussion and she couldn’t see out of her left eye it was so swollen… But then we found the men all with Ava. It took four or five of them to pin them down, their throat was…. just.... T-... There was… blood everywhere.... The man was laughing.... Luckily the band that we travel with had a doctor and a healer and they acted quickly. Papa even gave his blood to save Ava. Shona tired to, but he wouldn’t allow it because she was hurt as well. It was some kind of weird ritual.”

You nod a bit, knowing what he's talking about. “A blood transfusion… It’s actually not a ritual at all. It’s science. Medicine without magic. It can be very risky. But apparently it was successful…” Shawn stares at you for a little with his head tilted.

“Rhemi worked for our friend who’s a doctor back at home a few years ago.” Muriel explains and Shawn nods seeming to understand.

“...When we realized that Ava couldn’t really talk anymore, we didn’t say anything. So in a way, I guess Shona is right…. We didn’t want to make them feel any worse. But I don’t think we realized that Shona believed it was her fault. It’s not. At the time, I think it didn’t matter that Ava couldn’t talk anymore. We were just glad that our Ava was alive… We may fight and sometimes get on each other’s nerves, but…. I don't know what I’d do without Ava. They are one of the bravest people I know….. Ava is my best friend… and I love them.”

Muriel sighs deeply. “.... That sounds like it was really difficult… And you were just a boy… I’m…. I’m sorry, Shawn.”

Shawn grins a little at Muriel. “.... It’s just what happened… But I think our Great Mother and Father still have plans for Ava… They must have.”

You pour some more hot tea into Shawn’s cup. It looks so small in his large hands. “What do you mean about losing Shona?”

Shawn stares at the flames lost in thought for a moment. “After that day, she’s never been the same. I have always been closer to Ava and Keavy was closer to Shona, but she was the sister I could really rely on. If Momma or Papa were too busy, she was always there. She was kind, compassionate, understanding, and warm… Ava would tell us scary stories to frighten us, but Shona was the one that sang us lullabies and comforted us. But not anymore….. after that day. She just…. changed. I mean... they both changed. But Shona more than Ava. Shona pushed all her friends from the other band we travel with away, she even pushed Keavy and Momma away. She wouldn’t make any new friends and she became so quiet... cold and rigid. Now she’s too busy taking care of everything else, even when she doesn’t need to. She just makes clothing and takes care of our little siblings. But now she does it all without any of the warmth that she had before. She just sticks with Ava and herself. She doesn’t seem to…I… I don’t know…”

“...Live?” Muriel mutters.

Shawn glances up at Muriel as he exchanges a knowing look. “Y-Yeah. Exactly… it’s like she’s lost faith in people.” Muriel pushes out a very heartfelt sigh, but stays quiet. He knows more than anyone about losing faith in humanity.

You sit there next to Muriel and Shawn by the fire and look at your half empty tea cup. “... I feel like all I’ve done is reopen old wounds for Shona. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Shawn shakes his head. “You can’t help what you look like, Rhemi. Nobody can. Besides, she doesn’t even know you. It isn’t fair of her to judge you like that…. I think deep down she’s just… afraid still.”

“I had a feeling that Travelers weren’t highly regarded, but…. I didn’t expect this.”

“Those highwaymen weren’t all Travelish. Just the leader and maybe a few others were. There are thousands of lowlifes out there and they all come from every corner of the world. It shouldn’t matter in my opinion. They don’t represent their people, a community does. I’ve come to that conclusion overtime… They could have even been other Kokhurians as far as I know. Doesn’t matter--Those people were just… evil thugs…. And they’re gone now…”

“They-...they got away?” Muriel asks with a little shock.

Shawn looks away and shakes his head very slowly with a bleak expression. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally pushes out the words. “...After Papa saw them with Shona and Ava… He and a few other fighters killed them all… I…. I helped bury them. Those highwaymen didn’t give him much of a choice. They even tried to kill him too.” Muriel grimaces a little and places his hand back on Shawn's shoulder, but stays silent again. Shawn nods a little to himself and somehow presses on. “...Papa hates killing, but he will do anything for us. I know it…. That day, he had to choose… and he chose his children’s life over theirs.” Shawn takes a swig of his hot tea seemingly enjoying it. It must calm his nerves as well. Muriel pulls his hand away and stiffens at the thought of Gilbert killing anyone. You can’t really see it in the normally jolly man either, but he did however survive the battle with the Scourge. And although uncomfortable with the thought, Muriel seems to understand, who knows what he would have done given the same circumstances.

Shawn then smiles at a thought as he pulls the cup away from his lips and looks directly at you breaking a tense silence that took over. “I, ah...I kept pestering Ava about what you two were really doing lately, Rhemi. They told me that you're teaching them some kind of magic. They didn’t tell me why, or what it’s for, but it seems to be important to them. And they haven’t been this happy in a long time…. You’re not a bad person, Rhemi. It doesn’t matter who those men were. Momma said she had friends that were Travelish… From what I understand, they are not a bad tribe. Ha… Even if you were Scourge I think Momma and Papa would like you regardless. No one can’t help what other people have done. You shouldn’t be hated for the actions of different individuals.”

Muriel snorts a bit with a small grin. “..Ya’ know....For a kid, you’re pretty wise.”

Shawn puts back in his slightly smug ego back on. “Well that's because I’m not a kid! I am almost eighteen after all!” He then puffs his chest out and smirks, deepening his voice. “I’m a man.”

“.... Yeahhhh…. No- You’re a kid.” Muriel bark a short laugh. “I actually wish I was as insightful as you were…. You’re a lot like your parents.”

Shawn shrugs with a large grin. “Yeah. I guess so…” He takes his last sip of his tea and the grin falls looking at the tea cup. “...Please don’t tell anyone what happened. I’d never hear the end of it from the twins.”

“We won’t.” Muriel utters with a small reassuring grin.

You open your hand and Shawn gives you his now empty cup and relaxes a little more. He seems rather relieved now. “Thanks for listening, Cousin… Rhemi. I appreciate it.” He mutters as he stands to his feet.

“Anytime, Shawn.” You say, grabbing hold of Muriel’s hand.

After Shawn leaves you just lay on the ground on your back looking up into the hole in the tent where the fire smoke escapes, seeing the snow flurries still coming down. “We need to get that covered soon…”

“You alright?” Muriel mutters to you closing the tent entrance.

You think about if for a moment. “.....I wanna be… I will be... It’s not the first time I was hated for being part Traveler.”

“...What?”

Your face feels a bit flushed all of a sudden. “Oh… I never mentioned that I guess.”

His brow narrows a bit looking frustrated. You stick up your pointer finger at him before he could say anything as he opens his mouth. “Okay—In my defense I just forgot.” He sighs and relaxes slightly, but still looks a bit grumpy at you. “..But when Una said I was a Traveler, I suddenly remembered little glimpses of people screaming and yelling at me to get lost…calling me ‘traveler trash’. I kinda even remember someone kicking me in the gut too.”

“What? When?” Slight concern and anger behind his tone. The thought of anyone hurting you burns him right up.

“That's why I jumped and held my stomach the other day in their tent—”

“—N-no… I meant.. when did that happen?”

“Oh… T-that part I don’t really remember… But I think I was younger. I only remember being smaller than everyone else.”

He relaxes once again. Then softens his gaze. “...You’re not bad Rhemi.”

“I… I know. I know you know….But…. still doesn’t make me feel any better. Your cousin hates me. I wouldn't have cared if it was for any other reason, but… Some assholes really hurt those two. And that blood runs in my veins.”

“It shouldn’t matter. You didn’t hurt them.”

You sit up on your butt and pull your knees into your chest and grab your traveling cloak, covering your head and the rest of your body with it. “...No, but to Shona, I might as well have. I don’t think there isn’t anything I can do to change her mind now.” Your voice is muffled slightly by the fur, making everything dark underneath.

Muriel sighs sharply and you can feel him as he scoots over, sitting in front of you. “If I’m honest... I don’t know what to do about it either...”

You smile a little, lifting up the cloak and inviting him in. He obliges, scooting close to you under your small cloak. It’s no longer dark underneath… But it feels better with him there. “... I would rather you be honest anyways. Sometimes that’s better than being falsely optimistic… like I try to do sometimes.”

“... You just hope. It’s ok to do that. That's what I respect about you. You give people light even in the darkest of places.” He speaks so softly and kisses your temple.

You snuggle closer to him feeling a bit proud of him. Words are so hard for him usually. “That was…. really nice, Muriel. For someone who thinks he’s bad at words, that was rather poetic.”

His face suddenly flushes and he snorts. “—A fluke. Don’t ask for it again. It won’t happen….” You both laugh a little, and you cup his face with your hand feeling his stubble under your fingertips. You both lean into one another, lips inches apart for a kiss.

Suddenly you both hear bubbling water from the tea kettle that’s now off the fire and you both pull away and hastily take off your cloak. “... you don’t think…?” You whisper looking at him pointedly.

Muriel gets off the floor and leans over the kettle, taking off the top and can see the water continue to bubble and you both can feel Asra’s magic. Muriel quickly grabs a nearby bucket and pour the water in so you both can see it better as his image comes through. “Rhemi?... Muriel?”

“...We’re here, Asra.” Muriel smiles a bit wider. He misses him, and so do you. It good to hear his voice.

“Oh, good! So you both are still in one piece I see.”

You smile warily. “Yeah. We are. We have so much to talk abo—”

“Ooo you got through?! Good!!” Julian pushes himself in front of the water and his face comes into full view. “—MURIEL!! You better bring your soon to be wife back to us safely so Pasha and I can dress her up for her big day!!!”

“....Ilya.” Muriel grumbles rolling his eyes out of habit.

Julian just gives you his famous smirk at Muriel. “You miss me! Admit it, Big-guy!!”

“Never!” He sneers annoyingly with pink paint on his face, making you laugh a little. He will won't ever say it, but he does miss the silly doctor... In his own way.

Asra playful pushes Julian’s face with his hand, trying to ignore his interjection. “We were all getting a bit worried. You haven’t checked in at all since you both left…. and I… I miss you both. The shop isn’t the same without you two.”

You feel rather sad when Asra says that. “We miss you too, Asra. And sorry about that….. a ah…. A lot has happened lately.”

“Indeed.” Another voice suddenly chimes in. It's a very familiar woman’s voice; Sophisticated, diplomatic and silky sounding.

You and Muriel shudder a bit. Immediately realizing the voice. “Oh…. H-Heya, Nadia!” You nervously chuckle feeling a small bead of sweet.

Nadia’s beautiful face comes into view. “So…. You both couldn’t just tell me the good news yourselves?”

You both flush a bit and Muriel groans irritatedly. “What… ah….. what exactly did you hear?” You ask trying not to act like you know.

“Oh nothing except my two champions are getting married when they return to us!” Muriel and you exchange a look, feeling a little guiltily. “... When were you two planning on telling me? I was right there that day giving you left. I felt a little left out of the loop...”

“Uggghhh…. Julian, I’m never telling you anything again….” You grumble looking for him as he attempts to hide behind her. “Sorry Nadia. We were not expecting to tell anyone that day.”

“Someone just sticking his nose where it didn’t belong at the time.” Muriel scoffs pointedly looking for Julian too.

Nadia smiles. “Oh, I’m only teasing you two! I understand that you like your privacy. You both are somewhat celebrities now, I know you don’t want the whole city would be knowing about it. But don’t worry, I also know how to keep secrets.” She winks with an eyebrow raised. 

Asra smiles widely and pats Nadia on her shoulder. “So did you two find what you were looking for down at the Steppe? Did those weird dreams go away?”

You both look at each other for a moment, not exactly knowing where to start. “Well.. actually…”

“—Wait up Nana!!” You hear the tent entrance suddenly fly open as Inanna comes trotting in to get close to the fire and Ida following in after. “Oh!…” She steps back out and sheepishly looks at her feet. “....May….May I come in your tent?”

Muriel nods and sees her little hands, they look rather cold. “Come in and get warm, Ida.”

She smiles and darts right in but as soon as he sees the water she stops and looks at it with amazement and sits in between both of you, peering with astonishment into the water. “What’s this??”

“Muriel…. who’s… is this little one?”

Ida shudders and turns away from the water, tucking down her hood tightly and wraps her little arms around Muriel’s bicep attempting to hide. You both smile and laugh at her shyness. “... This is Ida. She’s… uhh… my cousin. One of them at least.”

Asra gasps. “Y-your cousin?? Wait—Muriel!! You have family?!? There are other Kokhuri still alive??” Asra, Julian, and Nadia’s eyes and mouth widen with surprise and excitement.

“Apparently I do... There are about thirty or so.” Muriel continues and explains how you both come to find out about the other Kokhurians and the gathering and why you’ve both been busy.

Asra looks like he almost has tears in his eyes as he looks at you both. “I... I’m speechless, Muriel. I’m so happy for you!!! So how long are you two going to stay? All winter?”

“No. We are staying until the solstice.. Maybe a few days after that. There is a ritual they do every year, and they asked if we would stay until then.”

“Well stay for as long as you need to! Don’t worry about us.” Nadia says cheerily.

“Asra, Jules, are you going to survive without us for a while?” You say with a giggle.

The two of them laugh a little in unison. “We will miss you both, but we’ll make it. As long as you promise to come back that is! Maybe drop into my teacup again every once in a while.”

“... We will.” Muriel snorts. You both wave goodbye as all three of their faces disappear in the water. Ida finally looks back towards the water and sees her own reflection. “...Morning, Ida.”

“M-... Maidin mhaith.” She mumbles.

“What brings you to our tent, Ida?” You ask while moving the bucket of water to the corner of the tent as she continues to warm herself up by the fire.

“Um… I….” Ida sticks her hand in her pocket averting her eyes. She then shakes her head and pulls her hand out with nothing in her hand. “... Nana and I were playing then it got cold. Shawn came out and… and I thought Ava was in here too.”

Muriel exhales hard looking a bit torn about this morning. “...Why are you looking for Ava?”

Ida shrugs sheepishly and her cheeks blanch. “I... I like to watch them spare…” She mumbles, sounding like she’s half fibbing.

“The sparring session was… cancelled last minute. Sorry, Ida.”

Ida looks a bit disappointed as she looks into the fire and stands back to her little feet. “Oh….”

“But you can stay until you get warm.”

“T-.. Thank you.” Ida pets Inanna on her head “...But I am warm now.” She dashes out of the tent. “Bye, Nana! Bye, Cousin and not-Cousin!”

Muriel and you can't help but giggle a bit at Ida's sudden exit and wrap your arms around your hermit, continuing the cuddling before being interrupted. After you’re finally done sulking from things that are out of your control, you have a feeling you need to go and find Ava and talk to them. Begrudgingly untangling yourself from Muriel’s arms, you place your cloak back on and go out into camp to hunt them down.

You quietly search, but are getting nowhere quickly.  But you try not to ask anyone where Ava is. As you nearly give up and consider asking someone, you then remember a searching spell that you read about, but you haven't tried before, but you need an object that was the person you're looking for. Luckily, you still have Ava’s pencil and you pull it out of your bag. Clearing your mind, you lift your right hand with the pencil laying flat in your palm. You focus solely on locating Ava while magic rushes to your palm and the pencil starts to float, spinning in circles for a moment. It then finally stops with the sharp end pointing like a needle of a compass towards the graveyard. The snow flurries still won’t make up their mind to actually start to snow or to stop as you make your way over to the tombstones. It’s still pretty cold, even with your extra layers underneath. You can’t imagine how cold it would be in the middle of winter as your hand starts to feel a little numb.

It takes you nearly twenty minutes, but finally you see someone with dark hair and a thick fur cloak sitting on a small hill overlooking the tombstones. Their knees drawn up into their chest, looking lost in thought. The magic recedes from your hand and the pencil falls back into your palm. “Hey, Ava…” They start a little, surprised to see that you have found them. The blink a few times confused. You must say it is a good hiding spot. You quickly show them the spell with the pencil and they nod a little before looking very solemnly back at the graveyard. You make your way up the hill and sit next to them. Despite how cold and bleak it is being in a graveyard on an icy tundra, it is still somehow beautiful as ever. Silence takes root for a few minutes, but then you break it reluctantly. “I… I’m really sorry about you and your sister. I.. knew you were hurt, but… I had no idea about her.”

They shake their head and look at you sadly and slowly speak their hands you can understand. “No, I’m sorry. Nothing to do with you…. ”

“Something I don’t understand is why are you keeping this all a secret, Ava? Your sister was rather hurt over it. She was very suspicious and thought we were doing something bad.”

They sink into their shoulders before moving their legs and cross them. They pull out the small notebook you gave them out of their cloak and you hand them back their pencil. Once they are done writing they hand the notebook to you. “... ‘Shona and I had a little conversation about it. I told her that you were just teaching me magic and it wasn’t a big deal. She’ll leave you alone now. I still don’t want anyone to know about the Illuminator thing… It was a dumb idea anyway.’... ”

An instinctive sigh escapes your mouth and you stop reading halfway after you see that. “But why, Ava?—”

They give you a slightly annoyed look and tap the notebook, cuing you to continue. “... ‘Papa will never admit it, but I know that he was disappointed that I wasn’t able to become a Master Speaker, and so was I. If he dies, most of our history goes with him. I wanted nothing more than to be like him and he knows it, it kills him to see me like this, a fraction of the person I was… I know you're going to ask me ‘why’, so before you do—I don’t want anyone to know that I want to be an Illuminator because what if I can’t do it? It would make everyone disappointed in me again. And I can’t bear that. I rather no one know, and I only let down myself then disappoint my people once more..’.”

Have they ever spoken with Gilbert about all of this?... Maybe he doesn’t feel that way at all. You sigh heavily as you put the notebook down on your lap, thinking about how much you want to say your thoughts out loud. But maybe now isn’t the time. You don’t agree with Ava’s logic, but you do empathize with it. “... Alright, Ava.” You huff reluctantly. A small shiver runs down your spine when a gust of cold wind blows over, making you close the opening of your cloak to keep you warm. “.... I… I know it’s not my place… But is your sister… better?... She was…. really upset.”

Ava looks towards the cloudy sky for a moment before answering in the notebook with a slow nod. “... ‘I’m sorry about that. She calmed down now, but won’t come out of the tent, but I needed to get some air. That discussion was a long time coming I suppose. She’s right, we never speak of that day… It was one of the worst days of our lives. But I had no idea she blamed herself all this time. I feel guilty that we never spoke about it before now. I guess we’re both still broken.’ ” They tried to scratch out that last sentence, but you can see it if you squint.

I knew Ava was hurt. But I had no idea Shona was hurt too. But some scars aren't visible. “...Is that why you didn’t like me either when you first met me? Not because I was an outsider, but because I am part Traveler?” Ava sharply glances to you and stares for a moment before slowly looking back towards the tombstones again, seeming to feel ashamed. Finally they sigh heavily and nod. Your gaze drops to the forget-me-nots that are next to you, it amazes you how they can survive these cold icy conditions while the other wildflowers are already starting to wither. No wonder Muriel likes them. “.... I understand why no one ever told me the truth… Do you really cry at night after Gilbert tells the old tales?”

They close their eyes for half a minute before they answer in the notebook.“.. ‘I used to every night, and sometimes I still do… I still have a voice. It's just a silent one, and I will be heard. But I won’t lie, it still hurts.. I miss talking. I miss singing. I miss telling stories’..”

Your heart aches when finished reading. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Ava.”

Ava brow furrows a bit and they exhale hard out their nostrils. “...It wasn’t Shona’s fault. Not your fault either. It was those assholes. Don’t be sorry.” They say with their hands very slowly, but their face is filled with such somber emotion.

The thought of a knife slicing your throat makes you shudder as the imagery creeps unwantedly into your head. Instinctively you clutch your throat and gulp audibly and you ask before you could stop yourself. “... Weren’t you afraid? I mean didn’t it hurt?—” You shake your head realizing what came out of your mouth. “-Geez! I’m sorry, Ava, I shouldn’t have asked that. It just came out...”

Surprisingly they shake their head slowly, and don’t seem to mind that you asked. They grab the notebook back, turn to a fresh page and start writing again, this time it takes them a while and what they write fills up an entire page and a half. “... ‘At the time I just wanted them to leave Shona alone and my family alone. She fought them all back as much as she could, she never gave up. She apparently kicked one in the balls really hard, and pissed him off. But he started to kick and hit her relentlessly. Once I started to attack them, I really didn't have time to be scared. I was just full of rage, and all I could think about getting those assholes off of her. I fought them, I even stabbed one with my spear, and cut one guy’s ear off, but unfortunately I didn’t kill them. I was young, around fifteenth at the time. I wasn’t nearly as strong or skilled as I am now and a few finally wrestled the spear from out of my hands. I tried to pull out my knife to defend myself, but before I could, the highwaymen all pinned me down on the ground. The leader stomped on my hand until I let go of it, then turned my own knife on me. But they at least let Shona finally go, she wouldn’t have lasted much longer. The leader looked me in the eyes and said. “You stupid fuck, you just killed yourself.”

When he cut my throat, I didn’t hurt. But it stung. My chest and neck felt warm and wet, then I felt cold. Immediately after he cut me, Papa and the other fighters came. The leader was still looking at me, smiling at me with his evil grin showing me my own bloody knife. Then he suddenly had an arrow through his skull. The rest started to run off, but they all cut down. No one escaped that night. I was laying there in the cool grass, I looked up into Father Sky and gazed at the stars. The next thing I know, Shona is there holding my throat with her hands trying to stop the bleeding. I saw her trying to talk to me, but for some reason I couldn’t hear her. Everything became very slow around me… It was strange really, it wasn’t what I expected. In that movement I wasn’t afraid—I never felt so peaceful before then. With those thugs gone, I knew Shona and my family were alright. So I started to let go and I slipped into dark unconsciousness…’..”

It's so hard to read all of this, but you shallow the large lump in your throat and push out a heavy exhale and continue onto the next page. “...The healer could only do so much, she used magic like you do. From what I understand, she could only stop the bleeding, but there was much damage that she couldn’t fix and I lost a lot of blood. When I woke up, that's when it all became painful. Very painful. I could barely pick up my head by myself, let alone sit up or function normally. Despite all of Shona’s injuries, she never left my side. My family had to help me like a damn infant. I couldn’t eat solid foods for a while and I lost a significant amount of weight in a short amount of time. Momma and Papa feared I would still die despite everything. My family and the other people from the band we travel with worked so hard to keep me alive. I knew I had to try to survive for them…

‘...I never told anyone this before.  But sometimes I still feel like I was better off dying there in the grass that night. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad I am alive… but I think it’s more painful for my family to see me like this than for me to be dead. I can’t tell anyone else that, especially my folks. Even Shona or Shawn. It would break their hearts to know that entire time I was recovering, deep down I just wanted them to let me go..’.”

You hold the notebook for a while and read the last line over and over. It hits you so hard. “Do…. Do you still feel like that, Ava?” They huff thoughtfully and shrug, not seeming to be very sure. You exhale hard through your nose. “I… I can understand actually.” Ava looks at you a little confused and you blow out a cloud of air and watch it in amusement. Then you decide to use a little magic to make a little cloud into a form of a small bird, making it flutter and you both watch as it whisks away before you continue. “.... I got sick from a plague back at home five years ago and…. and… I wasn’t afraid of death either. But I regretted that I didn’t get to say goodbye to my best friend before they left...”

Their eyes suddenly widen in disbelief. And write in the notebook, “... ‘But I heard you say that you don’t have memories after four years ago. Did your friend die?..’.”

You ponder on this for a moment, think whether to lie or to just tell the truth. Only your close friends back at home know the truth…. you haven't made really any new ones since. Maybe it’s time to take a step. “...You wanna know the truth, Ava?” You mutter under your breath. They nod warily looking a little suspicious. “I was me.” Ava just looks even more confused and asks you to repeat with their hands, thinking that they might not have heard you correctly. “...My friend just left the city I was in…. But I didn’t recover.... Five years ago… I died from that plague.” Ava bright green eyes are burning a hole through you as they beam at you completely unconvinced. Attempting to see any deception behind your expression, but once they can’t find any, they start to breathe a little more heavily in astonishment. “...My friends Asra, Julian, Nadia and even Muriel helped bring me back to life. That was before Muirel really knew me—The other realms that are mentioned in your people’s old stories are true. The Arcana are in them, ancient magical beings not of this world. Muriel and I even travelled through those realms—We fought the devil. Ha... We even saw Khamgalai there… it's strange... because shedidn’tmentionanyofyouforsomereasonnowthatIthinkaboutit…” Your eyes dart over to Ava whose face is blank, catch your breath and clear your throat, realizing you're getting off topic and ranting. “Anyways—My friends all had to pay a price to bring me back to this plane of existence.”

“...Why are you telling me this?” They finally ask with their hands.

“.... Because, you're my friend, Ava. You feel like you can tell me things. I feel like I can tell you things about me. And…. I just want you to know you're not alone. I felt that way in the end too. I wasn’t afraid, I was fine with dying. There is this moment when I knew it was going to happen, that there was no fighting it. Instead of being scared, instead of rejecting the idea, it was almost…. relieving…. My Aunt Athena used to tell me all the time, ‘Life is a cycle. Things are born, things live, then things die. New life comes after’… but… I went against the cycle. In a way you did as well. No other human would have survived that injury, yet you did. I’m not…. natural… Neither of us are I guess. And I’m still coming to terms with being alive and I think you are too… I guess what I’m trying to say is, dying was the easy part, but living is… difficult. I feel like I was better off still dead some days too. It’s… hard… really hard… And that feeling… doesn’t go away completely. Especially living with the guilt.” You smile a little and reach out for their bicep and pat it gently. “... You’re not weak for feeling like you wanted to give up, Ava. Because despite it, you still keep going, and that is what makes you strong.”

Ava looks out to the tundra and there is a long silence. Finally they take the notebook and write a short question. “... ‘Do you remember anything…. after?’”

“No. Not really—Khamgalai said there wasn’t really an afterlife… life just changes and takes new form…” Once you finish, you then think about it hard, that was the most obscure time and there was something. It actually makes you grin a little. “...Actually… I do kinda think I remember one thing… Flying. But like a bird…. or maybe it was just part of a dream. I’m not sure… But whichever it was… It wasn’t bad.”

Cool silence takes over once again as you both watch the snow flurries cease from falling down and the heavy cold snowy clouds start to move along down the tundra, revealing clear sky’s.

A tear falls down Ava’s cheek as they take the notebook again and write down something. “.. ‘I just feel like ever since they save me, I’ve just been a disappointment now.’ ”

You scoot a little closer to Ava just wanting to hug them, but know it is rather inappropriate and may send a wrong message. It sucks being such an affectionate person sometimes… What's worse is that you understand what they mean. You often think about Asra and how he must miss the old you, the you before you died. He still cares and loves you regardless, he always will, but there is no denying that you're a little different now, you sometimes feel like you disappoint him too. He tells you all the time that it's just your head talking too much. Maybe it's true, but then again…You’ll never know what in his head. But with Ava it's different. You know that isn’t true… “You’re not a disappointment, Ava. Your family and kin loves you so much. I can see it and I can feel it. Not just because you wanted to be a Master Speaker, but because you're you. You’re strong, competitive, responsible, kind but fierce, an incredibly fast learner, a fantastic older sibling, and just a plain badass!!” They flush a bit when you say that and a hint of a small grin curls in the left corner of their mouth. “...But… you still have your life to live. And you should make what you want out of it. You’re allowed to want things for yourself. Whether you like it or not, you're alive… you should make the most of it.”

Ava sniffles and they wipe away the stray tears. They nod slowly, lips pressed tightly together and start to move their hands. “Thank you,” They then made a new gesture you don’t really know. They flick their wrist back over their left shoulder like they were flipping back an imaginary ponytail.

You tilt your head a little in confusion. “What's that one?” Ava sticks out their bottom lip a bit and slightly looks embarrassed and points to you, then it makes you realize that's what you do when you put your hair into a ponytail. You did it before you went up against them in the games. You flip it back, just like they gestured. I guess that's their way to say my name like how Ida’s is a hood and Shona’s long braid. That's really sweet actually…. You wipe away a stray tear as well and you can feel a large smile dance across your lips as you quickly stand up to your feet. “So, Ava…. you still wanna be an Illuminator or what?” Ava stares at you perplexed. “Well? What are your plans, Ava? How do we get you to be one?” They just flutter their eyes for a moment, baffled by your sudden encouragement and you reach out your hand to help them back up to their feet. “What? Did you really think I was going to give up on my pupil just because their twin sister told me to get lost? PFFT!! It takes a lot more than telling me to go away to get rid of me!” They snort at your enthusiasm and wipe their nose with their sleeve. Finally smile back at you and grab your hands and you help pull them to their feet.

Once vertical, they take back the notebook once more. “.. ‘I am not sure about the trials for an Illuminator. Like I said yesterday, that practice was lost over a hundred years ago. But to become an Apprentice Speaker, you have to train under a teacher for five years, which I have obviously done with my father already. Next, you have to know the songs of Old, but I can’t sing anymore. I don’t think it would matter for an Illuminator. After that, an Apprentice Speaker must perform a story during the gathering in front of all the clan elders and Master Speakers for approval. You earn the title ‘Master’ when your teacher thinks you’re ready. It takes many years to become one. Sometimes a decade...’”

“Ok. So you can do this any time during the gathering? No sweat! You have all winter—” Ava looks at you blankly for a moment then slowly shakes their head. “...Oh… Okay... How long do we have?” They huff anxiously a cloud of hot air and stick three of their fingers up. You tilt your head to the side for a moment. “...Three?... Three weeks?” They shake their head again, eyes looking more warily and start to turn a bit flush. Your left eyebrow twitch slightly. “You…You don’t mean three days do you? That's the solstice.” You snort a little, thinking you're wrong but Ava just looks at you desperately and you hold your breath for a second, but keep an almost fake smile. “Oooooooooooh… Ooooookay.” You start to breathe again and you nod a little to yourself, thinking everything over. Ava is a very fast learner… They pretty much got the hang of the practice.. “Three days….. T-..That’s… Fine!—Alright then! Three days! Plenty of time!! We can do this!!!… Do you know what story it will be?”

Quickly they jot down the answer and hand you back the notebook. “..‘The night of the solstice is the last of ancient Stories of Old that we tell during this time. The closing ceremony always ends with the story of creation. It’s actually one of my favorites.’..” When you look up at Ava they blush a little, but look a little more optimistic and a hint of excitement.

“Okay! The creation story!” You have them back the notebook and then grab both of their shoulders suddenly, making them radiate heat off their face and jolt as you stare deeply into their green eyes with determination behind your gaze. “Ava! I swear to you, we’re going to make you an Illuminator, or I’ll be damned!”

They smile for a moment then it falls when they realize what you said, “We?” They say with their hands. “Me and you only, right??”

“Yeah… well… the winter solstice is only three days away… And we’ll make it happen—... But I’m going to have to tell Muriel about this.” Ava shakes their head vigorously and takes a step backwards folding their arms tightly. “—Hey-hey-hey! Look, someone else needs to be in the know so we can have some more help. I’m awesome, but not that awesome… Muriel wouldn’t mind, and he knows how to keep secrets. Trust me.” Ava looks very unsure about it, but doesn’t disagree or argue anymore. “Well, let's go! What are we waiting for? We’ve got a lot to work on!” You say finally brushing off the dirt and tugging their wrist along towards camp.

They grab your shoulder with the opposite hand so you face them and they ask, “Where are we going?”  With their hands.

“To my tent of course! You need to do this in a space like the great gather tent, right? And we need to make sure everything goes flawlessly!” They shrug with a sheepish grin and seem to understand.

Both of you return back to camp and hunt down Muriel. You explain everything to him and that you both need his help to make this work in such a short amount of time. After you are done explaining everything, he just stares and smiles cutely at you. Giving you this particular look, just like he did after he heard you sing in Una and Gilbert’s tent for Ava’s younger brother. You flush under this look. Strangely something about it is kind of a turn on today. For fuck sakes you are so weird, Rhemi.

That night at dinner, you see Shona from across the tent where she normally sits. She appears to have reverted back to completely ignoring your existence. You want to make things better… but there isn’t anything you can really do. You can’t forcibly change someone’s mind… I mean with magic, sure… but let's be honest, that's fucked up—I want her to accept me on her own terms.

As Gilbert tells another tale, you see Ava as they play the drums, looking like they have a spark in their eyes, like there is hope that hasn’t been there for a long time. It makes you feel happy for them.

For the next few days, Muriel took over part of the patrol for Ava during the morning so you could couch them while they practiced your tent. Ava rehearsed the story over and over again. They added amazing effects such as smoke and even stars on the canopy of the tent that you also taught them the other day. It was actually becoming beautiful, making you wonder why they lost this practice after a while. Perhaps the last Illuminator passed on before they could teach it. Ava would use a considerable amount of magic, and you had to nearly force them to take a break every once in a while and eat something so they wouldn't pass out. They’re strong, but no one can keep up magic going all day. Muriel was, unsurprisingly, very helpful (he always is). He would wake up before dawn, take patrol over for Ava until almost noon, and even brought you both food and water after the patrol was over. He watched some of it to give a different perspective. The idea is that Gilbert will be telling the tale, but the illuminator brought the visuals, but how Ava told the story, it was actually very easy to follow even without spoken word. It was another bittersweet story, but you can see why Ava liked it so much. The two days have already come and gone before you know it and by the day before the solstice, the night of the Midnight celebration, they were ready, and you couldn’t be more proud.

Today was a strange day. Instead of the games, dancing, and dinner at the unusual times, mostly everyone was resting up for the Midnight celebration. Dinner was reportedly going to be served a few hours before around ten at night. In the meantime, mostly ritualistic songs were sung and prayers to Father Sky and Mother Earth were completed. Some even people revisited the graveyard at this time. Gilbert said that the solstice was a time that all the other realms are at their closest to this one. Even the sprites sometimes come to visit. And people wanted to be closer with their loved one that passed on.

As you meet up with Muriel on the outskirts of the camp, little Ida comes rushing over with Inanna trotting behind her and makes her way over as he finishes patrol. Ida sheepishly comes and stands next to him. “Hey Ida. You and Inanna chasing each other again today?” Muriel says once he notices her a small grin naturally blooms on his lips. She takes down the hood of her parka and her little cheeks are bright red as she looks to the ground, seeming to have something on her mind. Muriel snorts, smiles and kneels down to her level to pet Inanna until Ida works up the courage. Inanna very gently nudges her, finally Ida reaches into her pocket and hands Muriel a trinket of some kind. “...What’s this?” Muriel takes the little trinket in his large hands and marvels at it. It is actually very well done and has pretty colored beads and smooth stones strung on a sturdy string. “It’s really pretty… You make this?”

Ida nods her head and rubs her nose. She shyly mumbles while looking at the ground and twiddles her little thumbs. “...It’s a friendship bracelet… Momma said that once you give it to your friend you’ll connect together forever.” You try your best not to make a face, she made the ‘bracelet’ too big, which is rather precious. It can almost be a necklace for her. God! She’s adorable!! Muriel nor you don’t have the heart to tell her it’s too big.

Muriel smiles a bit wider at her kindly. “Thats nice. Who’s the friend you're giving it to?” He hands it back to her.

Ida finally looks up from the ground after being nudged by Inanna’s snout again, her little cheeks even brighter red, “....Y-..You…” she mutters.

“W-wha-...m- me???” Muriel suddenly flushes a hot red and you smile controllably and looks back at the bracelet. It wasn’t a mistake, Ida made it big enough for him to wear around his large wrist. It has to be large, if it was made for him. Muriel shakes his head and is lost for words for a moment. “...W-W-...Why do you give this to someone who’s a better friend, Ida? Why me?”

“... Because... I- … I didn’t want to give it to anyone else. You’re my friend. You helped Ava. And you're always really nice to me. And I already made one for Inanna.” Both you and Muriel peer over to the large wolf and she almost struts her right paw with a smaller bracelet.

All of the visible flesh on Muriel’s body turns some shade of red, complexly flabbergasted at this. You can’t help but smile. This is just too sweet to witness. Muriel is completely lost for words and he opens and closes his mouth a few times trying to find the right ones to say. But before he could protest it anymore, she took it and tied the bracelet onto his left wrist. He doesn’t make any attempt to stop her as he badly attempts to hide a grin. It actually fits perfectly. Once it is tied on Muriel turns his wrist a few times and his smile becomes a little larger. “T...Thanks, Ida—”

Ida then surprised him once again by wrapping her little arms around his neck, making him jump a little. “Thank you for being my friend, Cousin.” She whispers loudly.

Muriel pats her little head and gently hugs her back. “Thanks for being mine.” He mutters back. 

She then quickly releases him and darts off into the other direction. “BYE!”

Inanna then stands next to you and “awos” at Muriel, making him sneer a little and grumble, “Yeah, well your one to talk…” But his smile doesn’t fall even when he looks up at you.

You loop your arm through his, and place a quick kiss on his cheek. “You are really good with kids, love~”

Muriel stands back up to his feet and scratches the back of his head, refusing to look you in the eye now and shrugs. “I have no idea why…”

You take his hand and lead him back to the tent. “Come on. The midnight celebration is tonight, we’re apparently going to be up most of the night. We should get some rest.”

As you both strole back to the tent, you can’t shake off the thoughts about how much you love how Muriel is with all the little ones, especially Ida. The thought of what your children might look like also clouds your mind, making you almost gitty. He is so gentle and patient with them. Is he honestly a family man at heart? “...Do you like kids, Muri?” You finally ask as he closes the tent. You both haven't talked about things like that before, not really directly at least. You hope he wants children, but you don’t really concretely know for sure.

Muriel doesn’t actually hesitate to answer like you expected and a small grin washes over him. “I… I guess….Having a few would be ni—...” Muriel suddenly flushes, stiffens like a board, and stops himself before he could finish that. “...I … I mean… You’d….You would be a g-good—…. I- I mean…P-p-perhaps ….I thought maybe o-one day...” He flounders for words adorably and your heart feels fluttery in your chest.  

“Muriel—“ Your eyes feel warm as you grab his large left hand with both of yours. He darts his eyes back to you, with an unsure look on his very red face. You look at him sweetly and rub your thumbs on his palm to soothe him.“...I told you when you asked me to marry you…. I want to have little ones too.” Muriel's mossy green eyes light up brightly, his face relaxes and a large smile takes over his face. “I… I want to make you a father someday, Love—AH!!” A startled laugh emanates from your lungs as he wraps his arms around you, picking you off your feet you kissing you intimately. You wrap your arms around his neck and lace your fingers through his dark hair and kiss him back.

Once you both part for air he holds your jawline with one hand and looks deeply into your eyes. “...I don’t know how I managed…. this.” He mumbles a little.

“Managed what, Mur?”

“... To…to have someone... like you…” He mumbles.

Pressing your forehead together with his, a large almost goofy smile takes over your mouth. “I love you, Muri. I’m the one that is luck.”

“Hmpf... Whatever...” He snorts softly, placing you back down to your feet.

Once back on the ground you both get a bit more comfortable and lay down on the bedding. After you both get comfortable, he pushes your long bangs out of the way and firmly kisses your forehead. “...You’d make a great mother. I know that.” He whispers with an uncontrollably smile still on his mouth.

“And you’ll be an excellent father.” You whisper back and lace your fingers through his hair. It takes a few minutes, but both of you somehow get to sleep. Its going to be a very long night after all…..

To be continued~

Sorry this is a shorter chapter again, but the next part I think will make better since with a chapter of its own which should be completed soon! =D

Sorry it was a lot of fluff and dialogue this time around again, but it's kind of necessary. This was also a particularly difficult chapter emotionally so it took a while.

But, HEY! Thanks for reading my hot trash! 

Stay tuned for more!!~

[cinnamonrollorder]

It Spreads

(This is the 1st prompt that the lovely @annikatti proposed to have done!)

The second everyone got on Angel Island, Sonic started running. Save a brief greeting to Knuckles, of course. He could practically feel the virus trying to latch itself on his mind, ripping away every little bit of himself. He was tired of running, but things like that wouldn’t let him rest.

So he kept running.

He kept running for a good 30 minutes, maybe an hour. Sonic wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was tired, and the virus receeded back under his skin. It was gone for now. He slowed to a stop and took a deep breath.

He’d been running around the perimeter of the island, knowing everyone else was in the middle. He didn’t want to run into anyone. While he would be fine, they certainly wouldn’t. Force was damage enough; Sonic didn’t even want to think about the virus.

When had he last touched someone? Oh, right, Tangle. It had felt so good, then, yet so sad. He wanted to help people, but he was just a liability. A guilty, faulty liability. He didn’t stop Eggman. He didn’t stop Metal. He didn’t stop anything, and now he was just a walking time bomb that could turn other people into theoretical time bombs.

He’d avoided it for so long. He almost messed up a few times at first, but he didn’t. He hadn’t gotten anyone hurt. Sonic’s breathing quickened. He’d done something right, hadn’t he? Amy, Espio, Emerl, Cream, Whisper, Rouge, Silver, Tails… they were all OK for now. Not to mention the handful of civilians they still had. They were still OK. Sonic hadn’t touched them.

He was in the carrier and the room was too crowded. Too crowded, too crowded. Sonic, move, move you’re gonna HIT someone and they’ll all hate you-

Nope. No. Not thinking about it. Sonic didn’t realize how lightheaded he was. Was he breathing? Did he want to start again? Not really. He could stay there for a little, and everyone would be fine. They didn’t need him. They didn’t-

Sonic staggered and pitched forward onto the grass.

----

Tails was worried.

There were many things for Tails to worry about. The apocalypse, no cure for the apocalypse, losing his friends to the apocalypse, and almost losing his brother to the apocalypse. Turns out, the end of the world is quite worrying. He was trying, though. He was helping Amy whenever he could. He’d sent her to bed at least three times the past two days, just trying to let her get some peace for once. He had to fly the carrier here because she fell asleep doing it. It was worrying.

What was more worrying was that Sonic was nowhere to be seen. He knew the blue hero ran off about an hour ago, for good reason. Everyone was on edge with Sonic being that close. He had been clean when he got in, save for a patch or two. It just… got worse. And he couldn’t run off like normal. Everyone was tired and wanted to rest, so Sonic didn’t even try to run in place. He sat down, curled up as tight as he could, and waited. Tails watched him.

The virus seemed to start in multiple spots. The right side of Sonic’s head, his left hand, and his mouth. It even creeped into Sonic’s mouth, grossly enough. Or, it seemed to. Sonic only opened his mouth a few times. He wasn’t asleep, that was for sure, but he wasn’t moving. To Tails, that was a level of disturbing only rivalled by the virus. Sonic shouldn’t be still. That wasn’t his thing, and it never should be. Sonic was always moving, always smiling. To see him so cold and unmoving felt… wrong.

Yet Tails said nothing, and neither did Sonic. He left him to go check on Amy and when he saw him again, he…

Tails ran out of the pilot’s area and towards Sonic. “Hey, Sonic, we’ve-“ he never finished that thought, because the first thing he saw was one red eye. It seemed to stare into him, as if Tails didn’t exist, but something else. Then he saw the pale, metallic blue sheen. He was too late, he was too late, too late too late-

Wasn’t prepared for that level of infection. He didn’t want to be able to imagine what Sonic the Zombot looked like. Didn’t want to know just how wrong it would feel to look Sonic in the eyes, and know that part of Sonic didn’t recognize him right then. But it was OK, Sonic left and started running.

He just hadn’t come back yet.

Tails told Espio, the closest nearby, he was going to look for Sonic. He wanted someone to know where he was. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel safer. Sonic didn’t have to be feared, though. They were safe. This was a safe place.

He decided to look in the most barren places he could. Knowing Sonic, he’d pick the spot with the least amount of danger from himself. And so he searched. For… about 30 minutes. As luck would have it, or, perhaps more aptly, as luck would unfortunately have it, he found Sonic.

Sonic limp and lifeless on the ground, with a pale blue metallic coat.

Tails ran for him, yelling his name. He wasn’t moving, so he wasn’t turned yet. There was still a chance.

But Sonic didn’t respond.

Tails got close enough to realize that Sonic wasn’t just lying down; he was unconscious. Flying around the hedgehog slowly and carefully revealed a few things to Tails.

Sonic had bigger bags than Mary Poppin’s under his eyes, his position was unnatural, like he’d fallen, and he was far, far too skinny to be healthy. Come to think of it, Tails hadn’t seen Sonic sleep or eat in days. They had food, of course, but whenever it was handed out, Sonic was nowhere to be seen. Tails realized that even if Sonic had eaten, it wouldn’t have mattered. Sonic was running too much, and there was no way they could afford to have kept up with the amount of calories Sonic was burning through.

No wonder he fainted. The problem was the virus, now. It was almost to the point it was earlier. Sonic’s face was clean, so was a bit of his upper arm. It was spreading, though, slowly but surely. He had to wake Sonic up.

“Sonic, you have to get up,” normal voice, no response. “Please,” a little bit louder. “Sonic, get up!” He shouted this time, panicked. Nothing. No response. He didn’t have time to find something to poke Sonic with. A tree branch would only get infected. Tails stared at the uninfected parts of Sonic. It was just the face. Tails moved as quick as he could and smacked his brother. He pulled back as if Sonic was on fire. Hit him hard and hit him fast.

Sonic’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a yelp. “What the- Tails?” concerned green eyes met scared blue, and Tails didn’t have anything to say, suddenly.

He was just very aware of the coldness of his finger. Both pairs of eyes slowly drifted down to that shaking hand, to that shaking finger. The shiny pale yellow-orange slowly spreading down it to the rest of his body.

“Tails? Buddy?” And Sonic was up, hands hovering close, wanting to comfort but afraid of causing more damage. “I-I’m so sorry, Tails, I…” it hurt to hear the emotion in that voice. Tails knew Sonic was trying to be strong, trying to be there for him.

Sonic could survive being infected.

Tails could not.

But yet, he just found himself smiling. “I knew the risks. They need you, Sonic. As long as you’re there, it’ll end up alright. I let you leave once, Sonic, I’m not doing it again,” he said.

“You didn’t leave me, I failed you then, Tails, and I can’t-“

“It’s not a matter of can and can not. You have to. They need some hope.” Tails stepped forward and hugged his brother. Sonic stood there, unresponsive, until he returned the hug suddenly. “Now I have to get out of here.”

“Tails, maybe we can-“

“We can’t cage me. I can’t fight this.” Tails moved past Sonic, ignoring the heartbreak and tears on the hedgehog’s face, and moved towards the ledge. Everything that could fly could still fly as a zombot. He’d be OK. He hoped.

“I’m sorry.” It was so quiet, so broken. Tails looked back at his brother. Half of his own body was gone to the virus. He tried to smile, but it was only a faint smirk.

“S’ not your fault, Sonic. Just save us like always, alright?”

And he stepped off.

----

Everyone was worried when they heard the scream.

It wasn’t even really a scream, it was more of a wail. If it had been anywhere else but Angel Island, they would’ve expected it. But this was the one safe place they had left.

No one had heard that sound before, it was foreign and unfamiliar. It was filled with pain and anguish and anger that was all mixed together.

It was 10 minutes till they found the source.

Or, more precisely, the source found them. Sonic appeared, somehow appearing more beaten-down than anyone there. He was sparsely patched with the virus, but what truly alarmed everyone was the tears pouring down the hero’s face. The heavy sobs that wracked his body.

Espio, the only one who had the information required to figure it out, paled.

“He’s gone.” It was all Sonic said. “He’s gone.”

[duker42]

I got inspired by Family Matters! how about where Levi and s/o noticed how sad Marc has been lately and they confront him about it. he said that Rachel is going out with this guy and they knew how much he loved her. Marc also said that he got bad vibes from him too, but didn't say anything to her or else it'd look like he was trying to break them up. they try to comfort him as best as possible. one night they heard banging at the door and they opened to see Rachel all beat up. they quickly-

💜Bad Vibes💜

Levi watched as Marc poked at his dinner, pushing the meal around his plate. The frown on his son’s face wasn’t normal and he looked at Y/N to see that she noticed his unusual behavior as well.

Liam had already finished his plate and had asked to be excused, excited for extra time in the tub to play with the new bath toys he had picked out the other day. Levi smiled for a moment as he heard the ruckus coming from his bathroom, knowing that before going to bed, they would have to dry the floor from the extensive pirate battle that was currently being waged from the bubble filled sea.

Marc sighed as he stabbed a carrot viciously, like the vegetable had wronged him. Levi saw Y/N’s subtle nod and decided it was time to pull whatever had been bothering the boy for the few weeks out of him.

“The carrot didn’t hurt you, why are you so angry at it?” Levi asked, arching an eyebrow as the boy was ripped from his thoughts to look up at his dad.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Marc mumbled, looking back down at his plate.

“Marc, honey, what’s wrong?” Y/N prodded gently.

Marc looked up at his mom. “It’s stupid.”

Y/N gave him a level look. “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. What’s going on?”

Marc sighed again, resigned and somewhat happy to get it off his chest. “Rachel, she started seeing this one guy, Tim.”

Levi and Y/N looked at each other, they knew the boy had feelings for his friend. He just hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her about it yet.

“Thing is, this guy...I don’t like him at all. Not because she’s dating him. Well, not just because of that. He....I get bad vibes from him. He’s not good for her. But if I say anything, I’m just going to look like a jerk who’s trying to break them up. I don’t want Rachel mad at me or thinking I’m like that.” He looked back and forth between his parents. He had a slight blush on his face, admitting that Rachel dating someone bothered him, but he knew his parents would understand where he was coming from.

Levi sat back and looked at the young man who care about his friend. “You should always listen to those feelings.” He said finally.

He held up a hand. “But....I wouldn’t say anything to Rachel about it right now. You’re right in that.”

Y/N gave a small nod of agreement. “Honey, we both know you care about Rachel a lot. I’m sure she’s figured out you like her a bit more as a friend. But, I think you’re right for not saying anything to her without some sort of proof other than bad vibes.” She added.

Levi cautioned his son. “That’s not to say that you don’t keep an eye on this guy. If he gives you that feeling, don’t be rude. He will make a mistake soon enough. Then you go to Rachel with your impressions of the boy. But remember that she is in that first stage of infatuation most likely, don’t let your jealously get in between your friendship with her.”

Marc nodded and sighed again. “I’m trying, mom, dad. It’s just so hard not to pull her away from this guy every time he’s around. But I don’t want her to be upset at me.”

He down at his plate, happier now that he had told them what was going on. He brought the carrot back up to his mouth, chewing and swallowing before addressing them again. “Thanks, you always know what to say.”

~~~~~

A few days had passed, Marc had looked a bit happier. The boy’s natural good mood showing back up and he had reported that his friendship with Rachel was still going strong, despite the other boy’s attempts to monopolize her time.

They were in the living room, Liam already in bed because of the late hour when they heard someone beating on the front door.

Levi got up to open to door and gasped when he found Rachel on their doorstep, her face was bruised and swollen, her lip busted and a gash above her right eye.

“Marc!” He called as he pulled Rachel inside and wrapped his arm around her waist to support her as she sagged against him.

Her words were slightly slurred from the bruises. “Mr. Levi...”

“Hold on, kid. Marc’s coming. Let’s get you inside.” Levi murmured as he flipped the door lock and started gingerly walking her towards the living room.

Y/N and Marc were wide eyed when they rounded the corner and saw Rachel. Marc rushing up to the pair and scooping Rachel up into his arms.

“I’ll get the first aid kit.” Y/N rushed upstairs to get the medical supplies while Levi headed to the kitchen to get some rags and an ice pack.

By the time his parents had come back into the living room, Marc had Rachel’s jacket off, revealing a number of bruises up and down her arms. Hand prints were someone had grabbed her, marring her pale skin.

Levi’s eyes narrowed on the marks as he moved over to help Marc set Rachel down on the sofa, being careful to avoid hurting her further.

“What happened?” Marc demanded as he pulled Rachel against him gently.

Y/N came back into the room with the medical kit and immediately took over, sitting down on the coffee in front of the battered girl and setting out the supplies.

Rachel winced as Y/N dabbed at her cut lip before answering. “Tim....I broke things off with him. He’s been pushing me to.....do things that I wasn’t ready for. Getting really angry about it.”

Levi’s scowl intensified as he shared a look with Y/N. He knew exactly what kind of things she was talking about and the idea of someone laying hands on the loving girl because she wasn’t ready for intimacy pissed him off beyond belief. He never approved of hitting a woman, let alone because wanting to wait.

He never could have imagined putting a bruise on Y/N when they were starting out because she hadn’t been willing to jump into bed with him. Even at his most ruthless, he always respected women and treated them with respect. This Tim shit needed to be taught some manners.

“Where did he do this?” Levi asked, his voice low and intimidating.

“My mom is out of town. He came over tonight. It was just supposed to be to watch a movie.” Rachel started crying, her voice breaking. “He got so angry, yelling at me that I was a tease, that I deserved this because everyone knew what coming over to watch a movie really meant.”

Marc’s face was a picture of anguish and rage, mirroring what his parents were feeling. It could have gotten so much worse, the results even more traumatizing for Rachel. Getting beaten by her boyfriend was going to be bad enough to overcome.

“I got away and ran here. It was the only place I could think of. I knew I would be safe here.” Rachel whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Levi and Y/N glared at the poor girl when she said that. When she shrank back under the hot glances, they both sighed and tried to relax their expressions. Y/N beating Levi to the punch.

“Don’t you dare apologize Rachel!” Y/N scolded as she put a butterfly bandage over the now cleaned cut.

“We are happy you came to us. We are angry at this jackass that thought it was alright to hurt you, not you.” She said.

“He just....he kept hitting me, screaming that I tricked him.” Rachel sobbed, leaning against Marc as he held her close with shaking hands.

Levi felt the familiar burn of rage swell up inside him. “Marc, you and your mother take care of Rachel. I’ll be back.”

He turned and walked to the front door. He grabbed his keys and slipped on his leather jacket. The door slammed shut and the three people awake in the house heard the squealing of tires as Levi shot out of the driveway.

~~~~~

The house was quiet when Levi opened the front door again. The living room light was still on. He shut and locked the door, and slipped the coat from his shoulders. Removing his shoes, he hung up his keys and padded silently into the room where he had left wife and son in charge of a battered Rachel.

The grim satisfaction on his face melted away when he saw the occupants of the couch. Marc was laying on his back, his arms around Rachel as she practically laid on top of him. She was still bruised and injured, but seemed to be at peace as she slept on his son’s chest.

He smiled at the sight of the slumbering teenagers. The night had taken it’s toll on them, and he moved over to grab a large throw to cover them. They might be a bit awkward in the morning, but for now, holding each other was both of them needed. He brushed the hair that fallen into Rachel’s face away as he looked down at the girl that he considered a daughter. She was safe with Marc, and from the expression on his son’s face tonight, he was going to let her know exactly how he felt as soon as she recovered.

A small sound from the doorway made him look up. Y/N was staring at him with an appraising look. He saw her eyes float down to the battered and bloodied knuckles of his hand. She gave him a nod and jerked her head towards the kitchen. She didn’t say a word, just turned and walked away, confident he would follow her.

There was a cup of tea sitting on the kitchen island when he walked in. Her own cup beside the opened medical kit. She didn’t comment on the wounds on his hand, she knew where they came from. What had caused the marks adorning his skin.

“He was still there?” She asked, surprise in her voice.

“Motherfucker was waiting for her to come back.” Levi spat out. The boy was older than he had realized, putting Levi completely at ease with kicking the shit out of him.

“You didn’t...?” Y/N asked, knowing that Levi had been beyond furious when he left.

Levi gave a scowl that put her at ease. “He was still conscious when I left him. Broken nose, ribs and perhaps a few broken fingers. It was a hell of a tumble down the stairs.”

Y/N hummed as she cleaned the cuts and applied the antibiotic cream to his hand. When she was done, she moved and laid her hand against his cheek lovingly. “I called Kristie. I told her what happened and convinced her not to try to come back tonight.”

Levi nodded, knowing that the girl was going to stay here, wanted her to stay here. He had grabbed her phone and locked up the condo where Kristie and her daughter lived after kicking the shithead out.

“She had gone on a spa retreat with her sister. I told her to stay, that we had her and that when Rachel woke up, I would have her call her.” Y/N said.

Levi pulled Rachel’s phone out of his pocket and set it on the island. He looked at his wife and saw her move a bit closer to him. He draped his arms around her lower back and tugged her forward, bringing her in between his knees as he set his head against the curve of her neck.

He sighed as he felt her lean her head against his. Y/N knew what he had done, approved of it even. He was protecting his family and that included Kristie and Rachel. His words were muffled against her skin as he commented. “I hate that those bad vibes Marc had turned out to be right, but I’m glad Rachel knows she can come to us.”

Y/N smiled as she pulled back slightly to look at her husband. ”Ackerman men are loving and protective. She knew that, just like I know that.”

Levi pulled Y/N against him for a kiss. He would always protect those he loved.

**All other stories in this AU are labeled Modern AU -Levi Family**

Mobile MasterList

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 18

The REDEMPTION

@imherefortheforthefanart​ @probablyclever​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​

Of Heaven and Fire 

Part 18

It was like he finally woke up from a coma or he had kicked out a demon from possessing him and he finally got full control of himself again and he sat up and gasped for air before it all came back in a rush and all he could feel was absolute shame and mortification for his behavior since his rebirth. 

“Oh Gods, what did I do?! What have I done?!” Brock sobbed as he held his head which hurt like it had been bashed with a club as his body hurt all over as if he had just been beaten by a mob. So much so that he puked and cried out in anguish and sobbed and looked at all of the betrothal gifts as if he was seeing them for the first time and the depths of his hurt and shame at refusing such perfection, much less finding fault with them- were immeasurable as his abdomen hurt like he had gotten kicked in the gut by a draft horse. 

How had you not strangled him? How had anyone not hunted him down and put his head on a spike for such barbaric and disrespectful behavior? 

He wanted to throw himself off a cliff! His stomach lurched and his lower abdomen felt like it was shuddering and he felt like he was about to shit himself before he realized- he was feeling phantom labor pains. One of the spells the Shaman had cast is that you would feel what the other felt to a degree. If he felt labor pains, that meant...

“Oh fuck! Fuck! Yana!” Brock yelled and quickly took all your gifts off the walls and he put them all on and it was like he could feel all the emotions you were feeling as you had these made for him or when you made them yourself, all the worry yet all the care and love and adoration and respect and even though the clothing and the armor was hanging off of him because he had shrunk lately and it was particularly heavy because his strength had been depleting ever since he left the clan- he knew he had to fly to you, immediately. He didn’t have any time to lose. He rushed out of the house as he looked up into the sky as a huge storm gathered around him. But he was undeterred if anything, his courage and determination rose to the occasion. 

He transformed into a mighty eagle, all his weapons and armor turning into armored feathers as his talons were particularly sharp and he flew as fast and as hard as he could and it was somehow a snow thunderstorm with freezing rain, hail and snow coming from the direction of Suchi and he dodged lighting bolts and the super heavy precipitation that beat him up even with special armor but he flew like his life depended on it and in record time despite the storm, he flew all over Suchi in an effort to find your house which he could not remember what it looked like. And in the colony, everything looked alike and he finally found your parent’s house, having remembered where that was at least but it was empty and so he went into the streets and banged on every door he could find until one finally opened up to him. 

“Where’s Benyana Auksa’s house? I need to get to her as fast as possible.” Brock pleaded desperately as his gut continued to shudder and constrict in time with what he intuitively felt were your contractions, he panted for air before he got directions to your house and he flew straight to it and when he saw it, it was like he’s finally remembered all the memories he had of of it came back to him and his tears blurred his vision but now it felt like his heart and soul were leading him to you because even if he went blind in this instant, he would still find his way to you and he came to your doorstep and banged on the door before his father answered the door, Drad and his family only arriving moments before he did. 

“You finally came!” Drad cheered in relief as he let him in and hugged his son so tight his back cracked as the two were already crying at being reunited. 

“Oh fuck no! He’s not getting anywhere near Yana, especially not now! Not ever!” Rhen thundered himself as he charged Brock and went to hack off Brock’s head but Brock blocked the attack with all his strength. 

“It’s me! It’s really me! The Brock before the rebirth in fire, I need to see Yana, I need to apologize to her. Look, I know I was the worst asshole the world had ever seen for the last six months and it was like I was possessed by a demon or something but I’m cured! One of Yana’s gifts to me cured me! It was an orb she got from the water dragons. When I took her out to sea back in the spring back when she was tethered to me which is a sin that will never be repeated for all time and one that I can never be forgiven for and I know I’m the last person in the world who has any right to be here and I will spend every waking moment for the rest of my life making it up to Yana and everyone else.” Brock pleaded as all he did was block your dad’s attacks and did his best to evade them but made no attacking motions himself even when his strength was waning to its last as his gut shuddered again as Brock heard the unmistakable sound that you were in labor and he heard midwives and your mother and his mother coaching you through it and he dropped his weapons on the floor and fled, flying through the house trying to find where you were as Rhen was pursuing him through the house before he found the room and broke the damn door getting in and he saw you in a birthing tub surrounded by his mom, your mom, Matae and the midwives and he flew to your side. 

“Brock?” You asked, barely recognizing him. 

“Yana!” Brock called out as he rushed over to you. 

“Matae, that’s my spot, out of my way.” Brock tried to push him out of the way which made Matae start giggling after he waived his hand over the top of Brock’s head before he withdrew with a proud and relieved smile as everyone gasped at Brock’s appearance as he got on his knees next to the tub.

“Yana Baby, I’m so so so so sorry for everything I put you through, I’m so sorry I’m an asshole and an idiot and the worst person ever. I had no right to treat you the way I did and I swear it’s like I’ve been possessed by a demon for like, the last 6 months, ever since my rebirth in the ashes, like something reached out and attached itself to me when that happened. Like I had a choice to learn to love you all over again or reject you the first time you hugged me when I came back and when I rejected you because it felt weird- not that it felt wrong, but that it felt too right, I know that sounds crazy and insane but it’s the truth, it was like the worst parts of myself took over and I couldn’t stop myself and I was in constant pain and agony the closer to you I got and the more I fought it, the worse it got- so much so that I tried to drown it all out with alcohol because none of the doctors and healers could explain why I was in pain, even the Shaman couldn’t figure it out and couldn’t cure it which made no sense and every memory and every piece of feeling I had for you tried to come through anyway but I kept misunderstanding it all and I mistook the feelings of love and adoration and respect and awe for hatred and it only built from there and you were absolutely right, everyone was right, it was like you symbolized slavery to my soul somehow and usually my honor would have pushed me to accept you anyway but I just...couldn’t. It was like my whole soul revolted at the very idea and it was all my fault.” Brock spewed out as quickly as he could as the biggest benar anyone had ever seen flowed from his eyes at yours as he grabbed and held your hand in both of his as he got as close as he could without actually getting in the tub with you. 

“And you gave me every chance to come to peace with it and you were so unbelievably patient, thank you,  you were more patient with me than I ever was with you and the gods themselves can testify that you worked so hard. You tried so hard to be the perfect warchieftess and you succeeded Baby, you did, I was so proud of you but my own pride and jealousy and pettiness wouldn’t let me admit that to anyone especially myself. And I swear on my life that I will spend every waking moment from this moment on making it up to you.” Brock vowed as you just stared at him, barely breathing because you didn’t know if this was a trick or what. 

“Remember when you first started to get the nightmares about what was to come when we went to Suchi together for the first time? And you woke up screaming your head off and sobbing and you were inconsolable and I just held you and pet your beautiful hair and rubbed your back and your arms and I swore to you by every god we both believed in- combined- that even if the council put me to death and even if I had to be reincarnated or reborn that I would find you, no matter what. No matter what form I would take, be it a raven or a dove or a horse or a mule or even a stray dog, I would come for you and that nothing would separate me from you and if anything or anyone did- the worst curses known to the living kinds would befall them or if I rejected you that the worst curses would befall myself and the clan? That if I came back and rejected you that my family should reject me, my clan should reject me and the very land should reject me and that monsters would hatch and eat up all the fish in the estuary and that I would forever wander and be lost forever. That I would be so alone that not even an animal would be my friend and that Stormbreaker would only be known as a place of whores before it would be no more? That my manhood would never work with anyone else but you and that my old weapons would shatter and my old armor would fall apart and that my clothes would even fall apart at the seams off my body so that I would roam naked and afraid and that no birth would ever happen in Stormbreaker until the day our child would come back and reclaim the land as their natural and proper birthright and then the curse would reverse and turn back into the blessing only it would double for their sake and my name would never be said again but their name would be known for times indefinite no matter what?” Brock prompted and all you could do is cry in relief and nod your head yes. 

“And it made you laugh your tears away because of how silly and preposterous it was but I made you swear that you were never to tell anyone this vow, especially me because even if I didn’t remember you, I would remember this vow because the gods would never let me ever forget? And what happened? Everything!” Brock started to laugh through his own tears as his mother hit him over the head angrily for cursing the clan like that. 

“Next time leave the clan out of it!” Rhos chastised. 

“Sorry, yeah, I deserved that and so much more.” Brock admitted but wouldn’t take his eyes off of you as he kissed your hand as he held your hand tightly as you squeezed back just as tightly. 

“Everything I vowed, came true. Monstrous eels were born under the crater that our house left behind, a house that we built together out of clouds that was supposed to be the perfect place to birth a great nation under our child’s name. And that when we had children, our first born son would be named Brive, and our first born daughter would be named Brelani. Remember?” He recalled as you started sobbing happy tears because you had not mentioned those names and wouldn’t say those names until the baby was born but he was back. He had told you that in the greatest of privacy and there had been no other witnesses to that as you hugged him as he hugged you as tight as he could. 

“What brought your memory back?” You asked when he pulled back to kiss every inch of you he could reach and repeat the words ‘l love you’ with every one as you returned his kisses emphatically. So happy and relieved he came to his senses and came back to you. 

“The orb! The orb that the water dragons gave you that you gave me as a parting gift, my mom invited me to watch the house while they were away here and I got so drunk off of the ale they left and Binga was waiting on me and she kicked my ass, which may the gods bless her for that, and I was in such a rage when she left that I took that orb and I threw it as hard as I could against the wall and what came out of it was this shining shimmering thing and it attacked me and I swear to the 9 heavens that it acted like a mob beating me up in every sense before it just unlocked everything and sobered me up and when I came too, it was like the “demon” was kicked out and I had full control over myself and my mind and my actions again and everything came back in a rush and I came to my senses and all I could do is throw up and cry and wallow in regret, embarrassment, shame and remorse and it was all I had to put everything on and fly as fast as I could here and the elements I swear were against me every step of the way and I got absolutely pelted by the storm’s hail but none of it hurt bad enough for me to stop and I knew I couldn’t stop until I was here.” Brock insisted. 

“Well, that’s because all the heavenly moura who have been after her were throwing the hail at you from the clouds themselves.” Matae finally piped up sheepishly before everyone looked at him which got yourself to giggle in amusement as Brock wiped the tears from your eyes as you did the same to him and so happy when he leaned into your touch. 

“Really?” Brock asked as he frowned which got everyone else to snicker in amusement. 

“Well I mean, I totally deserved it.” Brock admitted with a nod as Matae nodded in agreement as did everyone else.  

“And the elves totally drove away all the fawna.” Matae admitted. “Because the elves were upset that you rejected her.” Matae admitted. 

“And the council did totally curse you with a demon right before I got the chance to kill them myself and that the demon would torment you forever but I was powerless to do anything about it or tell anyone about it until either it pushed you to kill yourself to escape the pain and agony and agitation, or drove you to act in such a way that others would kill you. It was revenge for the council who themselves were powerless to harm you before your rebirth but in your rebirth process it was possible for the demon to attach itself to you since as their final revenge against you and your family and your clan, using your own vow against you and against Benyana especially for exposing them. And of course all the gods that you vowed to were obviously listening.” Matae revealed as everyone seemed to nod in understanding.

“But you should be grateful to Yana for protecting you, she even sent for me to deliver some game, being squirrels and trash pandas since that’s all I could carry as a raven as all the forest berries and mushrooms magically vanished whenever you were near, again, thanks to the elves, in particular Siressa who’s now the queen of the elves.” Matae explained since your sister Siressa married Railitor. 

“I thought that was weird.” Brock realized. “Wait that raven was you?” Brock asked as he remembered seeing it as Matae nodded in confirmation.  

“Who was the dove?” Brock asked. 

“More or less me, I was able to see you through the dove’s eyes since I physically couldn’t change into a bird form. Matae helped me. I started to fear that you weren’t completely yourself when your behavior didn’t match up perfectly to the way you were before the new year and while Matae couldn’t tell me about it, he couldn’t deny it either and I spent over a week playing the guessing game with him to come to that conclusion. That’s why I begged the gods to let you keep fighting no matter what, because the way I saw it, if you were fighting, then you would be alive and give me time to figure out a way to break it and kick the demon’s ass after I give birth to Brive since I couldn’t do so while pregnant, it was too risky. When surprise surprise, I already had the solution from Yingshen, long before there was ever a problem. But even I couldn’t know what was in that sphere.” You confessed.

“It was a Kydri, think of it as genie but a spirit of light who’s sworn enemies are demons and harmful and malicious curses. It attacked the demon in you and killed it. which- as bonded to you as that demon was because it was reborn with you, you felt the pain of it in your physical being. The particular kind of demon that it was- was particularly crafty, it liked to hide in plain sight as a person’s greatest faults so that when any healer or any other magic practicing person tried to examine you, it was like it wasn’t there at all and the only ways to get rid of it was either by a Kydri or other spirit of light, which are few and far between, how Yingshen had one, is a mystery to me.” Matae explained before another contraction hit you and you braced yourself in the waters and whimpered in pain as Brock did the same as you widened your eyes. 

“We still have our connection I see. Sharing the burden huh?” You teased breathlessly. 

“Aways, alright, I gotta get closer, I’ve spent the entire pregnancy either not knowing you were pregnant or possessed by a demon who kept me away from you. I’m back baby, so unless you yourself send me away, I’m getting as close as possible.” Brock insisted as he stood and started stripping down to his underwear as your mother laughed as she shielded her eyes as Rhos laughed and helped take his clothes and put them to the side as he got in the birthing tub and hugged you and kissed you the best he could before he got behind you and had you sit on his lap and legs so there was room between his legs for the baby to come through as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tight and kissed your neck and your shoulder and buried his face into the crux of your neck and shoulder and inhaled your heavenly scent, so happy to be reunited with you and happily felt every kick he could while Brive was still in your womb so that at least he didn’t get to miss out on the experience entirely as Brive suddenly became really active in hearing his father’s voice as the labor evened out. 

“My mom said you almost lost Brive several times, what happened?” Brock murmured quietly after you settled in. 

“Once we left, he stopped moving, except to roll in his sleep. No kicks, nothing. Only when your dad came and visited since his voice was closest to yours would he kick.” You explained. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine the burden of worry that put on you.” Brock murmured sorrowfully. 

“It’s not a burden anymore, now that you’re back and you’re here, that’s all that matters to me now.” You reassured him. 

“But if you threw up and just flew here, you need to get some strength and keep it up. Mom, could you see if anyone could make Brock a preflight meal?” You requested. 

“Of course.” Your mother nodded before she and Rhos left to cook up a storm as they revealed the truth of the matter to everyone else. 

Brock spent all night holding you and comforting you and massaging you and doing everything in his power to ease you through labor all night, even as exhausted as he was, but he knew you were even worse off than he was and he dug deep for the strength to persevere which helped with the food everyone else was making for him and you as his moura light marks lit up and intertwined with yours and your son’s as you laid back against him, so happy and relieved to have him fully back with you as the storm raged on outside but it all felt so far off now that he was near and he would be with you and supporting you for the birth. 

It was when you puked for the second time that the midwives knew you were in the final stage of labor as you braced yourself on Brock’s arms as you sat forward, trying to let gravity help you as Brock silently prayed to every god you both believed in to help you through this and to give you the strength and stamina to give birth and survive the birth and for Brive to make it through too. Brock had never prayed so hard or so fervently in his life. 

Just before sunrise as the storm died down to a simple rain shower, did you finally give birth to Brive. 

He was, by far- the cutest most handsome baby boy any of you have ever seen in your lives and even your family had to admit that he was perfect and his light mint green skin with blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes and his gold moura mark was gorgeous and Brock waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing to cut it and after you expelled the afterbirth, Brock picked you up as you held your son, once he had been cleaned off and bathed and carried you to bed that had been prepared for you and your son nursed like a piranha. You were just glowing, literally, because you were healing yourself before Brock started to glow too and with help from the midwives and your own mother was able to help heal you from the birthing process and while it would still take time to fully heal, it would cut down the normal healing time by two thirds. 

It was Brock’s first act to heal another as a moura and it was incredibly fitting that it was you and he did great- he was a natural and once everyone saw themselves out, you both finally got the chance to rest together for the first time in months, with you sleeping on your back with Brive in the natural cradle of your chest and Brock on his side spooning you and letting you use his legs to prop up your own as his arm was your pillow and his other arm wrapped around you possessively. Both of you slept so soundly and waking every couple of hours so you could nurse Brive who had a very healthy appetite and it warmed your heart to see Brock be oh so careful and gentle in changing his son’s diapers but keep Brive otherwise naked to maximize the skin to skin contact not only with you but with him as he cradled Brive to his chest like Brive was his greatest treasure and you both cooed at the baby and at each other and of course both of your families continued to cook up a storm together to celebrate everything and brought you all the meals in bed so that you could rest in peace and didn’t have to do much of anything other than get up to go to the bathroom and even then Brock was all too eager to help and if he wasn’t holding Brive he was holding you while you held Brive. 

News traveled quickly and as soon as you were able to get dressed and be seen by more people other than your family, you had many visitors from both Stormbreaker and Hurricane Breaker who all brought gifts and blessings and they all wanted to hear the tale of star crossed lovers, defying curses and spells and even a demon possession to be together and instantly great and fantastic legends were born. 

When it was time, it was Brock’s family’s turn to show him how to move houses made in clouds and fly it back home with you and Brive safely inside. 

Once he settled the house back into where it had been before, the gush of water into the estuary flooded all the silt out into the ocean to restore the beautiful rocks and sand again before you brought Brive out of the house as you and Brock got his feet out of his blankets. 

“Welcome to your rightful home and birthright my son.” Brock said as you both crouched down so you could put Brive’s bare little feet to the ground before you watched as a ripple effect traveled like waves of water over the land. Suddenly the vegetation returned full force. All the crops returning to the land and at the perfect ripeness for harvest as everyone from Stormbreaker left Drauch to immediately harvest all the abundance as quickly as possible as you quickly rewrapped Brive’s legs into the blankets you had him swaddled in and went back inside to rest as Brock then helped his clan gather as much grains and produce as possible before any of it could be lost to frost as one by one then group by group all his former captians and commanders and generals returned to him. Grateful to have their future warchief back. 

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

KAE. So I have a super angsty request. So imagine if Laxui is already married and they have a kid right? Hisui is queen and they all live in the palace together, and Laxus is out on a job but is due back at any time. As LAxus is returning there is an attack on the castle by a dark guild and no one can find the Queen or their child. And its chaos and intense and Arcadios is helping Laxus fight and yes

Katieeeee! <3 Miss you!

This could definitely part of a larger story! I hope you like it! <3 

Protect You

           “You’ve been gone for some time,” Arcadios said. He had been inspecting the outer walls of Crocus when Laxus Dreyar arrived home from his quest. The Prince sometimes went on quests with members from his guild. He had been gone for two weeks this time. “Her majesty will be very relieved to see you home.”

           “This one was too long,” Laxus agreed, running his fingers through his blond hair. “I miss them.” He silently wondered if maybe he should stop making such long trips. He was missing so much. Yuri was only four, and Hisui was expecting their second. So many moments he could be home for—moments that he was missing.

           He would be so relieved to see her smile again, to kiss her and hold both of them close. Just as they were approaching the palace there was a sound of a terrible explosion. Laxus and Arcadios both glanced up where smoke was billowing from the palace.

           “Wh-what?!” Laxus hissed. They both set off running towards the palace gates. There are a guard was just coming to, bruised and beaten.

           “What the hell is happening?!” Arcadios gasped.

           “A dark guild, I think,” the guard murmured, groggy. “Th-they’re here for the prince.”

           “Yuri.” Laxus whispered. The palace was huge—they could be anywhere. Panic was growing within him, paralyzing him. Yuri! Hisui! He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists. He turned to Arcadios. “It’s better if we split up, cover more ground. We have to find them!”

           Arcadios nodded, “Of course! No harm shall come to them, your majesty.”

           Arcadios took the left entrance, and Laxus the right, both damaged from the dark guild. Laxus felt his magic pulsing at his fingertips. No way was he letting anyone touch his son or wife. The hallway beyond the main doors was empty. Laxus dashed towards the staircase. Where would Hisui go if the palace was under attack? They had never really talked about it. And then fear set in like he had never felt before. If this had happened… yesterday, or the day before….? What then? He felt sick to his stomach. What if he had missed this completely?

           First, the offices—King Toma’s office, the old King was on vacation, which Laxus was grateful for. It was better that he was safe. Now Laxus just had to worry about his wife and son. The bedrooms. The bedrooms were on the third story of the Palace. If Hisui wasn’t in her office or her father’s office maybe she was upstairs with Yuri? Laxus took the stairs two at a time, he could hear yelling in the distance. The sound of a fight. Ignore it. Focus. His and his wife’s bedroom was the first door on the right when he at last came to the third floor. The lights were dim, it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Clothes strewn about Hisui’s jewelry box open and empty.

           Yuri’s room. There were two guards passed out in the hallway. Laxus stepped over them, making his way to his son’s room. The voices he heard, the shouting was getting louder. His hands balled into fists, electricity crackling at his fingertips. There, just beyond the door to his son’s room, stood three members of this dark guild, hands raised, terrible smiles on their lips.

           “We’re only going to ask once,” one hissed, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, “Hand over the boy.” Laxus was frozen.

           Standing in the corner of the room was Hisui. She was in her purple dress. It had been two weeks since Laxus had seen her last, and with a sharp intake of breath he realized that she was just beginning to show—a little baby bump. Their second child. On her hip was Yuri—only four. He had his face pressed against her shoulder and he was bawling, one hand holding tight to her hair, the other to her dress. “Mama!” Tears streaming down chubby cheeks. Hisui looked furious, but there was fear in her green eyes. She was shaking.

           “I would rather die.” She whispered, “Then relinquish my son to you.”

           “Fine by us,” another member said. And that was when Laxus snapped. He let out a roar of rage, throwing himself into the room, pummeling the three attackers with his fists—forgetting himself completely. Lightning burst from his arms, crackling and popping, spitting from his teeth, and then yellow turned to red. Red lightning, burning… singeing….

           “Laxus!” Hisui’s voice pulled him back. “They’ve had enough.” she whispered, in the silence that followed. Yuri was still crying. Laxus froze, gritting his teeth, lightning dying away. He gripped the blonde woman’s collar.

           “Hey!” He snapped, “Who the hell sent you?! Who did this?!”

           She laughed, blood in her mouth. “You’re as powerful as they say, Laxus Dreyar….” She licked her lips, blinking through a black eye. “I guess we never really had a chance. He said you wouldn’t be home. Don’t… think he expected you to be back so soon.”

           “Who?!” Laxus demanded, making Yuri cry even harder.

           “Shhh… Baby… shh…”

           “Your father…” The woman spluttered, “Your father… Ivan….” Laxus froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. What? Impossible. His father was out of prison?! How?! He dropped the woman, standing straight. He let out a breath and turned towards his wife and child.

           “Hey…. Hey…” he murmured, pulling them both into his arms. He pressed a kiss to Hisui’s forehead, and then the top of Yuri’s head.

           “Daddy!”

           “Shhh… you’re both safe now…”

           “L-Laxus…” Hisui was still trembling.

           “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, anguished, “Hisui, I’m so sorry, I should have been here.”

           “D-don’t…” she said, “Please, Laxus, you’re here now. Don’t blame yourself.”

           “I’m not leaving,” he whispered, “Not until we figure this out, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

           She rested her head against his chest, and he could tell she was crying, grip tightening on his shirt. Yuri reached out and grabbed his father’s shirt. My father… after his grandson. Rage filled Laxus again. Why?! To do the same things he had done to Laxus? Use him? Abuse the magical power he has? Laxus felt sick. Thinking of his own son going through the same hell he did with his father…. It made him nauseous. I’ll never let that happen. I’m keeping you both safe. From now on.

[stealing-jasons-job]

S1 canon-compliant (mostly) one-shot that recreates the moments right before Clarke had to shut the dropship door with Bellamy on the other side.

Inspired by The Other Side by Ruelle, which is such a Bellarke song it fucking hurts. I highly suggest listening to it while you read! This is the first fic in a series of one-shots all inspired by some of my favorite songs that give me Bellarke feels. <3 

Buckle up ladies and gents, this is going to be a rough one.

Find it on AO3 (or keep reading)

We are buried in broken dreams,

We are knee-deep without a plea

---

“Clarke! They’re taking down the gate,” Miller stumbles into the dropship, where Clarke is leaned over an unconscious Raven. Chaos is raining down around them, with the grounders closing in, Raven close to dying and Bellamy and Finn both outside fighting for their lives.

“Good, because I did it...I think,” Jasper pops up from the hatch that leads down below. If he was right, that meant the dropship was ready for blast off.

At Jasper’s words, Miller nods. “I’m closing that door.”

“Wait!” Clarke jumps up, rushing toward the door with Finn close behind. “We’ve still got people out there. Bellamy’s not back, yet.”

There were only a couple dozen in the dropship, and there was no sign of Bellamy. God, he should have fallen back by now. They had to get as many of the 100 as possible inside before closing the doors.

Gunfire and smoke fill the air. The grenades Raven made as a last resort are thrown as the first grounders breach the gate.

“Alright, everybody get inside now!” Clarke yells as loud as she possibly can, hoping she’s heard above the clashing of metal, war cries, and shots fired.

“Get down!” Finn nearly tackles her as arrows fly by so close she can feel the air whoosh by her hair. They duck behind a makeshift blockade while Miller holds off as many as he can from the doorway.

More grenades are thrown, but it’s impossible to stop the onslaught of grounders. As more of the 100 run out of bullets, they continue to fall back into the relative safety of the dropship. They wouldn’t be able to hold them off for much longer.

Where is he, where is he, where is he? Clarke asks herself, squinting through the darkness and the smoke for that familiar head full of curls.

“There he is!” Finn points to the treeline as Bellamy emerges from the tunnels. They lock eyes, and for a fraction of a second, Clarke thinks everything might be okay. But there’s a grounder-filled battlefield in between him and the dropship doors.

“He’s never going to make it,” she mumbles, more to herself than Finn. “Bellamy run!” she screams, more desperate than she’s willing to admit to herself. Adrenaline is pumping through her body, but her heart is beating wildly for an entirely different reason.

He picks up a gun as Tristan stalks toward him, sword in hand. Bellamy pulls the trigger, only to find it empty. Clarke is stuck watching from afar as Tristan swings at him.

Bellamy dodges the first swing, but can’t avoid the fist to his face that immediately follows. Clarke watches almost in slow motion as Bellamy is beaten down by the larger grounder. A knee to the abdomen, a punch to the jaw, a slash to the shoulder. She feels each hit as if she were being kicked in the gut, tears forming in her eyes.

“They’re killing him,” she whispers, terrified for the man she’d quickly come to depend on since they landed on the ground.

It’s a stark realization to have in the middle of a battle. I don’t want to do this without him.

He may have started off as a thorn in her side, an arrogant prick hell-bent on making her life on the ground even harder than it already was. But they’d quickly realized there was more to each other than meets the eye.

They’d bonded over their will to survive, their need to protect their people at any cost, the burden of leading a group of delinquent teenagers. He’d shared hidden parts of himself with her, and she’d done the same. He is undeniably her partner now, her co-leader… maybe even something more.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll ever get to figure out what that something more might be — his body sags a bit more with each hit.

“Give me that,” Finn’s order breaks her stare, and she watches as she grabs a gun as some kid runs into the dropship. He fires at Tristian, hitting his shoulder. But he doesn’t stop there, running out to help.

“Stop! Finn, no!” Without hesitation, she jumps to follow, but Miller’s hand around her elbow keeps her in place behind the barricade.

Finn rams into Tristian, pushing them both to the ground, and Bellamy wrestles himself on top of the grounder with a blow to the face.

“Clarke, you can’t save everybody!” Miller yells in her ear, but she barely hears him. She’s fixated on where Finn and Bellamy are teaming up to fight Tristan, frozen in horror as she watches the two young men she needed most grow more bloodied with each passing second.

“Let’s go!” Miller tries again, pulling on her arm. She fights to stay put, but he’s persistent.

The last of the grenades fire off, and Clarke looks around at the scene in front of her. Their makeshift home was filled with bodies, both grounder and her own people. She watches as a young girl is stabbed by a grounder, killed instantly. Clarke thinks her name was Penelope, only 14 or 15 years old.

They’re running out of time. If she keeps that door open much longer, she’d be sacrificing the rest of the 100. She’d be condemning more kids to die on the hope that Bellamy and Finn might survive.

She turns again to where Bellamy and Finn are fighting. Finn hits the ground hard, gun coming up just in time to prevent Tristan’s sword from splitting his face in two. Bellamy takes the opportunity to land a harsh blow to the man’s temple, and he falls to the ground unceremoniously.

“Get inside! Bellamy, Finn! Run!” she screams so loud her voice gives out at the end. Let them make it , she prays to a God she doesn’t really believe is listening. She’ll give them another 15 seconds, she owes them both that much.

They both turn to run, and hope surges within her.

But it is ripped away from her as fast as it had arrived. Another grounder tackles Finn to the ground. And as soon as Bellamy realizes Finn is no longer right behind him, he turns back to help him. At that moment, Clarke simultaneously loves him and hates him.

“Now or never, Clarke!” Miller urges. He hasn’t left his place beside her, occasionally firing off bullets. Bellamy was right to advise her to keep him close. She knows what she has to do, but she’s glued to the ground.

She can’t leave them out here to die. She can’t.

Bellamy crashes to the ground from another punch, blood spraying from his mouth. His eyes catch hers and they stay locked on each other’s gaze.

Even from more than 50 feet away, she can see the look on his face. The look telling her to leave him, telling her to go inside and close that door.

She shakes her head, probably too small of a gesture for him to see in the dark. But he reads her, in that annoying way he’s been able to do from day one. He gives her a nod of his own, eyes communicating everything he can’t say out loud.

Do it, they say.

I can’t leave you, her own respond. I don’t want to know the other side of a world without you.

If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. But you have to do it, Princess.  

Tears are streaming down her face, and the entire world is minimized to this moment. Miller is all but dragging her back toward the dropship doors, as she struggles in his arms.

She knows logically that this is the only way to save her people. She knows she has to sacrifice Bellamy and Finn and anyone else remaining outside if she wants to save the kids inside. But everything inside of her is screaming at her to keep that door open, to wait for Bellamy.

“No!” she fights against Miller, but his hold doesn’t falter.

Bellamy gives her one last smirk, mouthing something at her. In the moment, she doesn’t process what he’s saying. But she knows the look in his eyes, the set to his jaw. He might give it readily for closing the door on him, but he would never forgive her for not saving the rest of those kids.

More grounders breach the gate, and she gathers the strength to do what must be done. She tries to find Bellamy or even Finn one last time, but they are both lost in the haze of smoke and fire surrounding the dropship.

She closes her eyes, trying to imprint his face on the back of her eyelids. She can do this, she can do this. For him and for Octavia who was still out there somewhere with Lincoln and for everyone else her mother sent down to die with her, she can do this.

May we meet again.

She runs to the dropship, where Miller is waiting. Once inside, she lifts the lever to shut the doors.

Anya manages to get inside as Jasper tries to get the wiring to cooperate to start the rockets. It’s a mob, everyone trying to get a piece of Anya the second she’s down. Clarke tries to stop them, her anguish momentarily pushed aside.

The Trikru leader is curled in a ball, almost unconscious.

“She deserves to die,” Miller’s voice cuts through, his dagger swinging through the air. But Clarke catches his arm before it can come down.

“No! We are not grounders.” She gets everyone’s attention with that, and the rioting stills.

“Clarke, waiting for your signal,” Jasper says from the ground. All eyes are on her and Jasper, who has two wires ready to jumpstart the rockets. They can all hear the grounders pounding on the outside walls. She closes her eyes, not willing to let any more tears fall. Not when the rest of her people are watching, not when they need her to be strong.

The door has been shut, the decision to leave the rest — to leave Bellamy — outside to die has already been made. But for some reason, the nod she gives Jasper is just as hard as pulling that lever had been.

Her eyes remain closed as the rockets fire, as she feels the momentary lift into the air and hears the corresponding screams outside. She tries unsuccessfully not to think about Bellamy and Finn’s voices being among them.

Silence soon envelopes the dropship. They all look around at one another, unsure what to do or how to feel.

“We did it!” the first cheer erupts, and soon more follow it. The rest of the delinquents whoop and holler, thanking the universe and any gods they believe in for keeping them alive.

But the sounds of their triumphant chants is the breaking point for Clarke. She feels the last of her resolve drain, and she drops the radio she’d been clutching all night.

Her legs fail her, and she stumbles back toward the wall of the dropship before crumpling to the floor. Miller crouches down next to her immediately.

“Clarke, Clarke. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he starts feeling for wounds, and she shakes her head. A sob escapes her, the first of many. She curls up in a ball, her head in her lap and her hands covering her ears.

She can’t listen to them cheering. Not when the cost was hundreds of lives, both grounders and her friends. Not when Finn risked his life to save Bellamy. Not when neither of them made it back in time.

She can’t hear the excited yells and the relieved laughs, not when her mind keeps playing the sounds of those screams on repeat. Not when Bellamy and Finn’s were among them.

Miller slides down beside her, wrapping a hesitant arm around her shoulders. No soothing words, no calming movements. He just sits there — solid presence next to her, silent permission to fall apart.

And that's exactly what she does.

It's not until her eyes are dry, her body is numb, and she's standing outside the dropship doors in the morning sunlight that her mind processes what Bellamy had mouthed to her as Miller dragged her back to the dropship door. She closes her eyes and looks up, silently hoping that there is some universe out there where he still exists, where they might have had a shot at more than war and destruction and death.

I love you, too, Bellamy Blake. I love you, too.

---

I don’t wanna know what it’s like to live without you,  

Don’t wanna know the other side of a world without you

[thinkyoureholy]

Opposites Attract [14]

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Pairing : Park Jimin / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Enemies to Lovers! AU, Fantasy! AU

Words : 2.8k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I looked around the room curiously, “I can’t believe your mother had a separate house…”

Jimin smiled, digging through some drawers, “It belonged to my grandparents, they left it to her when they passed. We didn’t really use it much when she was alive but I’ve kinda turned it into a space to train over the years.”

He pulled out a pair of clothes and handed them to me, “Hopefully they fit...my mom was a bit shorter than you so I don’t know how well the pants will fit your legs…”

I said nothing as I held up a pair of pants that were obviously too short. I held it up, tilting my head to the side, “Is it okay for me to tweak these a little?”

“Yeah...go ahead. I’ll leave you to get dressed then.” 

He turned on his heel and began to walk away but I stopped before he could get too far. I pulled him towards me, capturing his lips in a quick but passionate kiss. The blush that coated his cheeks pulled at my heartstrings, the smile that played on his lips mirrored my own.

"After all this is over...let's--let's talk about us yeah?"

He grinned at my words then placed a chaste kiss on my cheek, nodding his head, "We can talk all you want, love."

And with that he turned to leave. I couldn't fight back the grin that pulled at my lips, looking down at the clothes in my hands. Okay...we just had to get through all of this first then we can start thinking of other trivial things.

-

I pulled on the sleeves of the shirt, pulling them up to my elbows as I walked over to where the guys were waiting. The pants had been turned into shorts, the garment exposing my legs. I could hear them talking as I walked up but as soon as I was right in front of them they went silent. I looked up to see them all staring at me, my brows furrowed at the look on their faces. I looked down at my attire, frowning.

"Does it look weird?" 

"No!" They all shouted in unison...well all but Namjoon who simply rolled his eyes at the others.

"Alright before you all drill holes into her with your staring let's get back to business." Namjoon said, diverting their attention over to him.

I looked over at them curiously before shrugging my shoulders, going to stand in between Namjoon and Gai. I looked down at the map they had laid out on the table, inspecting the formation they had come up with. We knew Seokjin had taken up residence in the Poseidon faction so it makes sense to have all the soldiers we had at our disposal facing Poseidon but the formation felt off. Without a word, I reached out and grabbed two knight pieces they were using to represent the soldiers, having four in total, and moved one facing the Gaia faction and the other facing the Zephyrus faction.

"I don't think we should have our backsides completely open like this. We should have five thousand facing Gaia and another five thousand facing Zephyrus. I know Gaia is against Seokjin but he could easily storm through there with most of their army here...and Zephyrus is siding with him so there's that." 

"I think you're underestimating my people a bit there don't you think?"

I looked up from the table at Namjoon, "You're here Namjoon, you're the strongest one they have-"

"My brothers and Inori are just as strong if not stronger, they can hold their own against him I'm sure of it."

"Your brothers? Namjoon...your two older brothers are considerably weaker than you are, you were put in charge over those two. And your three younger brothers? They're children, the oldest isn't a day over twelve. Inori is the only one that can even be considered to be on par with you and even then she's not enough." I said, turning to face him completely, "I mean no offense with my words but you have to take into consideration that Gaia can fall-"

"Just as easily as Poseidon fell?" He asked sharply, cutting through my sentence.

I set my jaw at his words, glaring into his eyes, "Just as easily as Poseidon fell," I repeated through my teeth, seeing his eyes widen the slightest bit at my response, "I didn't say Gaia would fall to insult you but it's something we must take into account. My own brother was no match for Seokjin...you think yours will fare any better? I'm only trying to cover all of our bases so we have a bigger chance at success."

"Joon...she has a point...just calm down okay? We don't need any of us turning on each other."

"I'm not turning on her. I'm just saying she needs to have a little faith in us, Taehyung. Our factions aren't as weak-"

"Aren't as weak as who? Finish that sentence Namjoon and I'll end you right now," Yoongi cut him off, both him and Hoseok glaring daggers into Namjoon.

Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to keep his composure, "I'm just saying she shouldn't underestimate my people."

"She's not underestimating anyone, she's simply saying that Seokjin's power is just that great." Hoseok said.

"Well how do we know we can't beat him! We don't know until we try and I have hope that my own people won't lose so easily against-"

"Put your damn pride aside Namjoon and open your eyes! It took everything in me to stop two of his attacks, I would have died if he decided to strike another time! He’s not someone we can beat with sheer willpower, we need the strength to back it up! And right now…” I trailed off, my voice breaking as I thought of the ending that could ruin us all, “we are so unbelievably weak…”

Silence fell over us all, every single one of them rendered speechless by the emotion in my voice. I wanted to avoid that ending at all costs and if it meant I had to hurt a few egos along the way then so be it.

“Do you not have an ounce of trust in our power?” Namjoon asked, his voice barely audible but we were able to hear it loud and clear.

“I do...I trust you all with my life…”

“Then why do you not believe we can do this? Why are you assuming that we’ll fall so easily? I’ll admit willpower and spirit doesn’t win wars but sometimes it’s all we have,” He let out, his voice so full of emotion I could hardly bear it, “And it is all we have…”

I bowed my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek as I clenched my hands at my side. I was looking at things all wrong. They weren’t over confident in their strength, on the contrary, they were well aware that they were fighting a war they knew wasn’t in their favor but still they kept fighting. Sheer willpower and spirit was all they had and they were clinging onto it so desperately yet here I was crushing it with my own hands. I thought I was helping them by being so brutally honest but in reality I was making things worse. I was crushing the only thing that was keeping them going. I opened my mouth to try and back track, make them feel better about all this but was stopped before I could get anything out by the ground rumbling beneath our feet. I lost my balance when it got stronger, Gai reaching out to steady me.

“Namjoon are you-”

“No, this isn’t me. The only other person that could do this is…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide before he whispered out her name under his breath, “Inori.”

And just as he said her name we witnessed a wall sprouting out from the ground, the ice covering the wall had my face going pale. Before I could stop myself I took a step in the direction of the wall, breaking out into a run seconds later. I could hear the others following after me, Namjoon running faster than the rest of us but about a block away we stopped in our tracks at what we saw above the wall. Seokjin waltzed out into view with Mana at his side, four of his people coming up behind him. He wore a smirk when his people stopped just at the edge of the wall, dropping the people they were dragging. There was a chill in the air as our eyes met with those of our respective loved ones. Taehyung and Jungkook stumbled forward, their eyes on Taehyung’s father. Namjoon’s knees buckled as he stared up at Inori, his eyes taking in her beaten state. Yoongi, Hoseok, and I  stared up at Levi who was in the worst shape, my eyes filling with tears at seeing the blood stains on his shirt. Jimin...he fell to his knees, Gai trying to keep him up but even he was having a hard time standing on his own two feet as they both looked up at the young boy. I could only assume it was his beloved younger brother and I was right when he called out to him.

“Jimin! I-I’m scared!” 

Jimin got up, his legs still weak but he managed to take a step forward, “I-It’s okay Jisoo...you’re big brother is going to get you down from there okay?!”

Seokjin chuckled under his breath, taking a step forward, “You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“Seokjin you bastard he’s just a child!” Gai yelled out, fire already beginning to emit from his body.

“He wouldn’t be the first child I kill...isn’t that right, Inori?” 

Namjoon let his shoulders sag as he figured out exactly what  Seokjin meant within seconds. He stared up into Inori’s eyes only to have her shake her head, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m s-sorry! I-I couldn’t protect them I tried, N-Namjoon I swear to you I did everything I could...but--but it wasn’t enough!” She cried out, Namjoon falling to his knees, his fingers digging into the ground underneath him.

His shoulders began to shake as he began to cry. His family, his brothers, all five of them were dead, even the youngest one who had just turned six a month ago, all of them were gone. I could feel the anguish coming off of his body, my own heart breaking at the sight but I couldn’t do anything to alleviate his pain, I was too focused on Levi and why he was the only one up there. I stared into his eyes, silently asking the question that was burning in the back of my mind, where was our mother? I got my answer when he shook his head, a single tear cascading down his cheek. My heart completely shattered at his response, the tears falling as I stumbled back into Hoseok as he held me from falling to my knees like the others. Just how far was Seokjin willing to go? How much was he going to take from us? I got my answer as I looked up into his grinning face, watching his eyes light up like they did that day.

-Seokjin’s P.O.V-

“Now who goes first?” I asked aloud, mostly to myself as I looked over the four in front of me.

“S-Seokjin please I agreed to help you. W-Why are you-” 

I cut him off, kicking at his back and forcing him to lay flat on his stomach, “Because that useless son of yours picked the wrong side and when one of you betrays me...you all betray me,” I spat out through clenched teeth.

I looked over at the others, my attention being drawn to Taehyung as he fought against Jungkook's hold. I grinned at the look in his eyes, anger on full display but that desperation of his shined brighter. The only way I was going to get them to bow and become complacent like before is if I forced them into it by taking their loved ones...it's what I did to Levi and boy did it work like a charm. Once his mother was gone he was like putty in the palm of my hand. 

I knelt down beside Taehyung's father, my fingers grasping onto the back of his shirt as I lifted his face off the ground, "I guess your time has finally come. Don't worry though, I'll send your son straight to you once I'm done with him."

Those words must've finally made something within him snap. I couldn’t help but grin at watching him set his jaw, the anger clear in his eyes. My eyes began to glow as I pushed him away, sparks of lightning at my fingertips. I looked at the other three, their eyes on their loved one down below. The kid was crying his eyes out, his words incoherent as he cried out for his brother. Inori had tears streaming down her face as she mumbled out apology after apology and Levi...I stared at him in shock once I saw his expression. The man had the gall to have a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes gazing at his sister warmly. I clenched my fists at the sight. Here they were about to die and all they cared about was the people down below. I felt jealousy bubbling up the longer I looked at them, comparing them to my own family...that is if I can even call those people my family. As much as I hated to admit it I envied them. The only family I had was Mana...and I won't let anyone take her from me. I had to kill them all here to stop the future that I saw from happening. 

Y/N's powers awakening had thrown out the future I had seen out of whack. I knew she was going to be his chosen one but not at this time. She's just as if not more dangerous than the Jimin I saw in my vision. I feared that she'd wipe out my entire faction and I knew she had the power to do so. Truthfully those people could burn for all I cared but Mana...she had to stay alive and I was going to make sure of that even if it cost me my own life.

With that thought my eyes began to glow brighter than ever before. I raised my hand up slowly, my open palm facing the sky, “Screw it you’re all going at the same time.”

-Y/N's P.O.V-

I stumbled forward at seeing his eyes glow like that, watching him raise his hand up to the skies, "Seokjin wait!"

He paused at the sound of my voice, staring down at me with a raised brow.

"W-Wait please. Your problem is with us...let--let them go. T-They have nothing to do with this. Jimin's brother is just a child for fuck's sake…" I trailed off, trying to keep my voice steady but it broke halfway through, "P-Please. Seokjin...Levi is all I have…"

Seokjin smirked, lowering his hand the slightest bit, "You're wrong. They have everything to do with this. This is how I make you all complacent."

And with that he raised his arm up high, the sound of thunder filling our ears seconds before we saw a flash of lightning. I cried out for him to stop, begged him, we all did but our cries fell on deaf ears. I looked to Levi desperately, wanting to save him but I knew I'd never be able to each him in time. The look he had on his face completely shattered my heart. I shook my head as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at me warmly, his love for me as his sister shining through once more before it happened. It happened so quickly. The lightning was so bright I had to look away and shield my eyes but the moment it was gone I wished I didn't look back. What I saw was horrific, a sight I didn't wish upon anyone. A sob wracked my body as a scream of pure agony wormed its way out of my throat. Levi, along with the others were burnt so badly by the lightning they were almost unrecognizable. They stayed kneeling for a second before they fell forward, dead. I cried out, hearing the others' let out wails of sorrow and pain. I stumbled back, tripping over my own two feet as I shook my head not believing the sight before me. But as that disbelief took place in my heart another emotion was starting to build up in my system. I clenched my hands and set my jaw in anger, my whole body shaking with rage as my eyes began to glow. He's going to pay for this…I'll make sure to give him a slow and painful death.

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Tags : @rjsmochii @namflix