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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

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Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 3

Batman #353, “Last Laugh”

The Joker walks into his hideout at the abandoned Tatch Hotel, where his goons are gambling. He promptly kills one of them by snakebite for disrespecting him.

Batman scares a corrupt city council member into revealing that the doctored photos that “revealed” Batman as a crime boss came from real crime boss Rupert Thorne. Apparently, Thorne ensured that Reeves would lose the election...meaning that he wanted Hamilton Hill to be mayor for some reason.

Also, Gordon is currently not the Commissioner---someone named Commissioner Pauling is, and Batman suspects both he and the new mayor are corrupt.

The next day, as Bruce Wayne, he accompanies Vicki Vale to the destruction of Gotham Central Station. Apparently, Vicki was witness to an interaction between Rupert Thorne and Morton Monroe that culminated in the latter’s suicide.

The computer being used to manage the explosions that will preserve the landmark while still clearing space for new development malfunctions has been stolen...by the Joker!

Because Batman and the new police commissioner are on the outs, Batman hadn’t known about the Joker’s escape from Arkham, and he’s not happy about that. He does, however, quickly work out that the Joker has bought some land in the Palisades under the pseudonym of Mr. Harlan Quinn. (No...seriously!)

Batman heads to the location in question...only to be caught off-guard by the Joker, who shoots a drugged arrow at him. When he wakes up, he’s tied to some rocks and surrounded by dynamite.

Joker is upset that Gotham is constructing a statue for a Broadway star and not for him, so he’s going to use the dynamite and the computer he stole to create a monument of himself (and kill Batman).

Batman manages to break free and jams the computer signal by way of a device he brought with him for that purpose.

The story is then interrupted for a weird He-Man comic! Hi there, He-Man, Teela, Man-at-Arms, Battle Cat, Sorceress, Mer-man, Beast Man, and Skeletor! And, uh, Superman, too, I guess! Why not?

I can honestly say I did not expect this Batman comic to contain a Superman/Masters of the Universe crossover where Superman fought Skeletor.

And now back to Batman, who’s fighting Joker’s goons. While this is going on, the Joker shoots at Batman while his back is turned-only for the explosions to go off. It temporarily creates Joker’s memorial of himself, but it lasts for only a few seconds before collapsing. The issue ends with Joker frowning and Batman smiling in a really unsettling manner.

The issue also has a backup story, starring Robin and Batman, the latter of whom is undercover as Matches Malone. They work together to defeat some con-men, and Dick uses an inflatable suit to dress up as Batman. It’s pretty amusing.

Batman #355, “Never Scratch a Cat”

Why does Catwoman own what appears to be a pet panther?

Apparently, she’s not happy abut the fact that Vicky Vale is also romantically interested in Bruce Wayne. We then cut to the latter two on a date.

Their date is suddenly interrupted when Catwoman uses her car to send their car off a cliff and into a river. She immediately regrets it and dives into the water after them to save them.

Bruce fights her off and makes it to the surface with Vicki himself. Two days later, she wakes up in the hospital.

The police have been staking out Selina’s house, but so far, there hasn’t been any sign of her.

That night, Batman leaves to track down Catwoman, telling Dick not to come with him as Robin. They have a fairly heartwarming conversation, and then Batman zooms off, leaving Dick and Alfred worried about how angry he seems.

Batman breaks into Selina’s house...and is promptly attacked by her pet panther. They fight, and he defeats the panther. He then discovers that Selina hasn’t been home for at least 2 days.

Batman looks through her bills and discovers that she’s rented an apartment somewhere.

Ex-Commissioner Gordon talks politics with Mayor Hamilton Hill. There’s a petition to remove the latter from his position, since he’s connected to Thorne and Thorne was arrested for murdering his own appointee for police commissioner. Also, Hill makes him commissioner again.

Batman tracks Catwoman to her new apartment and the two fight, verbally and physically. Eventually, though, they make up and hug each other. It’s kind of weird, but I guess it works.

Flash #324, “The Slayer and the Slain”

The Reverse-Flash is dead! But the real horror of this issue isn’t that he’s dead or that he died attempting to murder Fiona Webb...it’s the fact that this issue will kick off the Trial of the Flash arc; otherwise known as the Arc That Never Ends!

Some really weird nurse tells a baby the story of her favorite soap opera...only to lose her grip on the carriage, which goes hurtling towards a pane of glass! Kid Flash manages to save the baby, but not the glass.

Kid Flash then rushes to what he believes will be the wedding of his uncle to Fiona Webb, changing into a tuxedo along the way.

Unfortunately, when Wally arrives at the church, there’s no sign of Barry. Dexter Miles, Barry’s friend Mack Nathan, Mack’s son Troy, and Ralph Dibney, the Elongated Man, are at the church, though, as are Barry’s parents and Fiona herself.

Before Barry’s first name was Bartholomew, it was Barrence. No, seriously.

Fiona is naturally very upset, believing Barry stood her up at the alter. Henry Allen is less than sympathetic. “Nora and I aren’t ready to give up on our boy just yet, Fiona. And if you really love him...you’re not about to either!” Way to guilt-trip her, Henry. No wonder Barry got along better with Roscoe-pretending-to-be-you than he did with you.

Barry and the Reverse-Flash have a fight/race around the world, Eobard yelling about how mad he is about Barry trapping him at the end of time for four years.

Officer Frye and Frank Curtis are also at the wedding.

Apparently the Guardians of the Universe stopped Wally from helping Barry fight Eobard for some reason. Okay...

Eobard, being Eobard, makes a giant ice sculpture of Iris in the Himalayas just so he can troll Barry. Then they fight some more as all the wedding guests wonder where the bridegroom is.

While the two are fighting/racing, Eobard creates a big wave at Miami Beach, which Barry has to stop to rescue some swimmers from.

Captain Frye is starting to believe that Barry’s been murdered.

Eobard and Barry end up in Cape Carneval and take a rocket into outer space. After they return to Earth, Eobard taunts Barry by writing “Guess who’s going to kill your wife again” in the sand. This naturally makes Barry very, very unhappy.

Equally unhappy is Fiona, who is now completely convinced she’s been stood up and is leaving the church.

The wedding photographer pops up over thirty-five minutes after the wedding is supposed to start; conveniently already filming with his camera.

Eobard runs towards Fiona, murder on his mind...only for Barry to grab him from behind by the neck as he shouts “NO! Not again!”

Barry tries to comfort Fiona to no avail as Frye discovers that Eobard is dead.

And on that grim note, the issue ends.

Batman #362, “When Riddled By the Riddler...”

Why was Riddler working at a winery? Is it just because one of the processes involved in making wine is called riddling it? Whatever the reason, the appearance of a film crew at the winery apparently gives Riddler an idea for his next crime spree.

Batman is summoned to police headquarters, where Harvey Bullock is arguing with Commissoner Gordon. Apparently, Bullock’s working with Mayor Hill, and the Riddler has been sending Gordon puzzle boxes.

This puzzle box prompts Bullock to ask about the Riddler, which in turn prompts Gordon to tell Bullock and the reader about the Riddler’s M.O. and backstory.

When he finishes the story, Batman finally arrives and kicks Bullock out. He and Gordon proceed to try to solve Riddler’s latest riddle as Bullock eavesdrops on them both from outside the door. The riddle seems to point in the direction of the Mother Goose Amusement Park, but Batman tells Gordon to keep thinking of other possible meanings just in case.

Bullock plans to outwit Gordon, Batman, and the Riddler, showing an impressive degree of self-confidence (or self-delusion).

Batman goes to the park and is promptly ambushed by a machine-gun wielding Riddler.

Then they fight, Riddler escapes, and Batman learns that the amusement park has been closed all season, so it would have no money around to steal.

Gordon, Bullock, and Batman reconvene to do some Bat Deducting in order to figure out the Riddler’s real plan. Because Batman’s true superpower is his ability to understand the insane ways in which the Riddler uses riddles to plot his crimes.

Apparently, Riddler is going to steal the loot of a game show being filmed in Paradise Theater. The show in question is called “Enigma”, which is a terrible name for a show filmed in Gotham. It’s beggining the Riddler to show up.

The Riddler actually wears a suit in this issue! That’s unusual for Riddler at this point, and it looks really good. Of course, he immediately takes it off a few panels later, but still.

Apparently, the game show consists of getting contestants to answer riddles and...seriously, who decided it was a good idea to film this in Gotham?

Then the Riddler pops himself out of the riddle drum used in the game show. It’s hilarious. He steals the money and walks out the door, gloating.

Batman then appears and starts chasing Riddler, who hijacks a bus. Batman follows him and uses gas to force the bus to stop.

Then Batman literally kicks him off the bus and captures him.

The issue ends with Bullock deciding to drop the charges he’s managed to get raised against Gordon (after Gordon uses a riddle to threaten him). Hill is not happy about this.

Batman #373, “The Frequency of Fear”

The issue opens with Jason Todd having a freaky nightmare about his parents’ deaths (since this is pre-Crisis, the deaths happened at the hands of Killer Croc).

A really stupid psychologist wants to meet Jonathan Crane so that he can analyze the effects of fear on the human mind. Unfortunately for him, Crane has been released from Arkham, because everyone in Gotham is stupid. Even the stupid psychologist thinks so!

Meanwhile, a couple of people at Gotham University wonder if they really did see the Scarecrow heading for the old Marston House where Crane once lived.

Julia Pennyworth, Alfred’s daughter, asks Vicki Vale for a position at Picture News (is this different than the Picture News where Iris West-Allen works?) Vicki is opposed to the idea until Julia insists she’s not interested in Bruce Wayne.

Apparently, in an earlier issue a number of Batman’s Rogues dragged Scarecrow around while he was mostly incapacitated by fear. He’s not happy about the fact that they did this and is plotting revenge against all of them.

A guard at the courthouse demands to know why he’s there. In response, Scarecrow uses a skull to emit his fear frequency, and the guard predictably starts hallucinating. He then continues to use the frequency to get the location of the lock-up. He’s then lead the the solitary cell of the Joker.....and then Batman shows up.

Scarecrow proceeds to use the fear frequency on both him and on Robin, when the latter shows up. Batman manages to fight off the worst of it, but when Jason chases the Scarecrow out of the building and onto the rope Scarecrow was using to escape, the frequency overcomes him, he loses his balance, and he starts falling.

Batman manages to rescue him, though.

On an unrelated note, Child Services are worried about the fact that Jason keeps falling asleep in class.

Gordon and Bullock go out for dinner and have a little chat; Mayor Hill hires a hit out on Bullock.

Meanwhile, Batman tells Crane’s backstory to Robin, who suggests that Crane might be hanging out at his old house. Batman dismisses this, which is unfortunate, since Crane is, in fact, hanging out there.

Crane is reading his psychology textbook to his little skull head. The man is really weird. I’ll also note that his textbook does actually contain a few words I’m not familiar with, which is impressive.

Crane then determines that he’ll have to get rid of Batman first if he wants to kill off all the other villains, and goes out to do just that.

Commissioner Gordon calls in Batman and Robin and tells them that the Scarecrow is attacking a zoo. Batman tells Robin to go home; he thinks the case is too dangerous for Jason.

Batman goes to the zoo, and is increasingly affected by fear. When he reaches the crocodile pit, the fear is so overwhelming that he loses his balance and starts to fall in.

Meanwhile, Jason has disobeyed orders and gone to Crane’s old house. The Scarecrow promptly attacks him as Batman falls into the crocodile exhibit....and the issue ends on a cliffhanger. Ooof.

Flash 2021 Annual

SPOILERS!

Man, Wally West makes the weirdest faces in this confessional.

Barry, Ollie, and Mr. Terrific talk technobabble.

Good news! It turns out Wally’s not a murderer anymore! HURRAH!

Roy is alive again! YAY!

Barry and Ollie are also making weird faces.

Ollie really wants to save Roy from the speed force explosion that will kill everybody at Sanctuary, but Barry says there’s nothing they can do. Ollie doesn’t like this explanation.

Also, Barry’s powers suddenly start fading.

Wally makes another weird face as he and Roy talk.

Hey, Savitar’s back! And looking a lot more attractive than the last time I saw him.

Turns out that he’s been causing all the weird problems with the Speed Force in this arc. It’s appropriate for him, I think.

Roy and Wally team up to fight Savitar, who goes on a villainous monologue about how he’s going to eat the speed force so he can become it.

There’s some more technobabble about the Speed Force. Apparently, if they don’t cause the explosion that kills everyone at Sanctuary, Savitar’s plan to eat the Speed Force will destroy the Omniverse.

Roy ends up setting up the necessary explosion to save the Omniverse. Good work, Roy!

Aww, Roy and all the heroes are dead again....:(

Oh, well. At least Wally still isn’t a murderer now.

Wally and Savitar arrive in the present, Wally decides to continue being the Flash, he and Savitar have a fight/race, Wally wins, and Savitar disappears.

After Wally takes a nap, he and Barry have a cute talk, and Barry gives poor Ollie, who’s been through a lot, a hug.

Wally goes home and reunites with his family. HURRAH!!!!

Heat Wave’s going to be in the next arc. It’ll be interesting to see how that goes.

#flash comics #batman comics #dc comics

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

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Hey,hey,hey. *Drops this post from my pocket and stumbles down stairs*

[ R a p t u r e d ]

A Twisted Wonderland Yandere Short Fic.

Summary: Your brother, obsessed with making a name for himself as a huntsman slaughters the beast in the Nostorne Forest, an olden land rumoured to be where the Faefolk reside with their Mother Goddess Gaia and her seven sons. But the rumours are true, and the price for having a fool brother is a heavy one.

Chapter One: Rage

"When was the last time you had the sun on you?" Idia asked this with a gentle smile curling on his lips. His blue flamed eyes glistening with a fondness too endearing to be let off as friendly.

The cuffs on your hand bit into your skin. Bruised and calloused, you balled your hands into fists yet your lips didn't part open for any of your anger to manifest into words.

Idia frowned. Guilt lingering on his features. The tower you were in was dark with nothing but a single window and a door only magic could make visible. In Idia's mind your refusal to speak to him was from a lack of comfort. Of course,anyone would be as frustrated as you were.

Perhaps,he could help with that.

His hand went up to unlatch the lock on the window and as he pushed the wooden frames back, a simmering sunlight entered the room through streaks of warmness you haven't felt in months. In your dreary state, you almost wanted to swoon from it, but then you caught the smile in Idia's eyes and your anger flared once more. You clenched your jaw and turn away from the window.

Idia's frown returned and this time with a painful jab to his heart.

"What are you doing?" Came another familiar voice you dreaded to hear, and it was from Riddle who had just materialised in front of you, his usual condescending gaze glowering at your cuffed form.

Idia furrowed his brows.

"The sun was out, I thought it'll be good for them."

Riddle scoffed,his high and mighty stance crushing your pride as he strode pass you and towards the window, where he glanced out briefly before slamming it shut. The moment darkness engulfed you once more, the regret of not facing the heat of the morning came to slap you in the face, and your shoulders slumped.

Idia looked to Riddle disapprovingly, but said nothing. Though he did glanced at you with pity. He knew you liked the sun even when you acted like you didn't, and being one of your captors, you weren't sure whether to be disgusted or grateful for his efforts to understand you.

"They're not a plant" Riddle drawled, "And with that scornful look in their eyes, you shouldn't be treating them to something so pleasant,brother."

"Humans need their sun" Idia argued "They'll get sick if you keep them locked up like this"

Riddle cocked one brow, his glowering glare seeping into your very bones when he stared down at you. When he began taking strides towards you,the sound of his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards made you flinch. For such a petite looking male, he walked with a confidence of a king marching with his army.

"Look at them,Idia" He said, softly, as if attempting to coerce his brother onto his side. "Just us standing nearby makes them sick."

When Riddle turned to face him,Idia wore a painful look on his face as if he was pleading for the words to not escape Riddle.

The red haired turned back to you, leaning down to push back the bangs obscuring your eyes from meeting his. The gentle scent of floral emitting from him matched well with the softness of his delicate fingers running through your hair, and yet both greatly contrasted the bitter grey in his gaze.

"You're fortunate I dislike seeing my brother displeased,human." He cooed, mockingly. "I'd have you collared and hung otherwise."

Riddle pulled away swiftly when the flames on Idia's hair flickered lightly, a sign of annoyance.

Mean while, you tried swallowing the immense fear in your throat to make way for the words you've wanted to pour out ever since you were captured. Alas, it seemed as if someone had sewn your own will too tightly.

"You're going too soft on it" Riddle said after going to Idia's side,the slight aggression in his voice earning a scowl from blue haired male.

"Them. Not it. And if you keep treating them like that they'll refuse to eat"

"If it's not eating, it's barely my fault."

"They'll die,Riddle. And I thought we were supposed to keep them well and alive until their brother gets back with his homage."

"Alive." Riddle said firmly, "The well part is only because you like them."

The accusation brought colour to his cheeks and Idia found his tongue betraying him when it refused to utter proper words. Riddle looked to the hunched over form of the unfortunate human they were responsible for looking after and sighed. Bringing up his index finger to rub the side of his temple.

"It's decaying. How could you even stand near it? Let alone find it pleasing to watch over?"

"You don't know." Idia said simply, and though he was frowning, Riddle caught the nostalgic look in his eyes.

Years together, and Riddle still couldn't really figure his brother out. He was closer to Idia than he was with the rest of his brothers,but the way Idia held certain things with such sentiment gave Riddle a headache. To think someone of nobility like his brother would go soft for something as meager as a human...He was going to have tea after this, that would clear his head.

But that was later. Now, he needed to make sure, as Idia had stated multiple times, that their human wouldn't die.

***

The cold water that splashed ontop of your head and trailed down the rest of your body made you shiver and flinch as the wounds on your wrist hissed at the sudden exposure.

The small, encircling, faeries dusted in the pale colour of blue giggled at your reaction, never once stopping to ask you if the water bothered you. Water Fairies... You've only ever heard of them in stories your mother told you before you slept, but now for the past two months, they were the ones keeping your body clean.

Your gaze dropped to your bare feet soaked in the wooden basin you bathed in, and the memories of when you were free brought tears to your eyes. Before you actually realized it, you were crying. Tears uncontrollably slipping through your eyes like rain dripping in-between the creaks of a broken roof. Your body trembled and despite the soreness of your limbs, you hunched over to hug your knees. The water Fairies, continued their job, carelessly oblivious to your sorrows.

You didn't even noticed Idia entering the room until his panicked voice broke through the silence and a pair of his hands gripped your shoulders.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" He sounded worried, hasty even. The water Fairies giggled, splashing the water from your bath playfully as if to greet the young male but when he lifted his gaze towards them, the gold in his eyes flared like fire and within seconds you heard the small cries of pain elicited by the water Fairies before, one by one, Idia's fire engulfed them all.

"They're gone now" He said, cupping your tear stained face clumsily in his hands. "They won't hurt you again. I swear."

He wasn't expecting a 'Thank you' or a grateful smile or even your body welcoming him in an embrace, even if he did craved those things from you, but Idia also didn't expect for your hands to push him away so vigorously. As if by his touch alone he had made you feel disgusted.

His gaze was wide when it met yours,a tinge of hurt lingering in them but when Riddle entered the room then, it vanished and Idia looked away from you.

"What happened here? Why are you on the floor—" Riddle let common sense piece up the scenes together and when it did, the annoyance In his demeanor shifted to anger.

"Get up,Idia. You'll need a change of clothes,Azul is already downstairs,have him help you."

Idia got up without a word and when the door vanished the moment he went through it, dread settled into the room like a plague.

"I don't know how many times I've said it" Riddle started,looming over your bared body still sitting in the basin.

"But you should consider yourself lucky I'm neither Leona or Azul. They would've given you nothing to wear and tossed you out naked."

You didn't dare meet his gaze then but Riddle made you to by placing his thumb underneath your chin and slowly lifting it up.

"I wanted you dead,you know. After all, what your foolish brother did was unforgivable. Mindlessly slaughtering the creature our mother raised on her own as the family's protector..." He jerked your chin back with a flick, his every action a sting of aggression. "I've always felt my own brothers were a handful" Riddle looked you right in the eyes then before he laughed, "But now that I've seen yours,I'm grateful. Very unfortunate for you though"

"Why are keeping me like this?" The words came in a whisper but Riddle caught it and he arched both his brows as if he was impressed you could actually talk.

"You're not an idiot" He said "You heard me perfectly well."

"Yes,I heard you...but why? I don't understand." Slowly, your eyes began to burn with an ignition of life, and for once, Riddle did find it pleasing to look at you.

"What difference does it make if you did? The situation here is very clear. Your brother,an arrogant hunter, thought he'd be doing the world a favour by intruding into my family's ancient lands and arousing the beast that protects it,killing it in the end. I'll admit,it's no small feat, and he does have an ounce of talent in his veins but he's done wrong by us," Riddle's voice shifted into a drawl, gaze darkening, "And perhaps he should've think twice before angering us Faefolk."

"But why am I the captive?" You were almost screaming, your throat coarse and dry it hurt to even utter the words, but it was unfair. Why was it you had to pay for the fault of a man you weren't even related to by blood. With the little energy you had left, you stood on your trembling legs, not caring that your naked body was in full display to the red haired who all but stared at you in bewilderment.

"I'm not to blame. I take no responsibility for the death of your creature. If it's vengeance you want then maybe giving me a sword would suit better."

Riddle's rage glimmered in his eyes.

"You're challenging me?"

"No." You said. "I'm offering to give you the head of the man who dishonoured your family, Fae."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst mc #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #twst riddle x reader #twst idia x reader #twst Wonderland au #twisted wonderland yandere #twst yandere #twst yandere riddle #twst yandere idia

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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It’s a privilege earned over 68 years, as the oldest and longest-serving juvenile lifer in the country. He’s been imprisoned since 1953, when he was just 15 years old.

“I guess you accumulate a lot of stuff in 68 years,” said Bradley Bridge, a lawyer with the Defender Association of Philadelphia who’s represented Ligon since 2006. Having taken on the mission of getting Ligon home — first legally, then logistically — he had to scramble to fit the materials into his car, commandeering a reporter’s trunk for the overflow.

Ligon, now 82, received his life term for taking part in a spree of robbery and assaults in which two people died. Ligon admits participating in the crime with a group of drunk teens, but denies killing anyone.

After the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that automatic life terms for kids are cruel and unusual, he was one of more than 500 Pennsylvania prisoners all resentenced to terms contingent on lifetime parole.

But Ligon, resentenced to 35 years to life in 2017, rejected the very idea of parole after nearly seven decades in prison.

“I like to be free,” he said. “With parole, you got to see the parole people every so often. You can’t leave the city without permission from parole. That’s part of freedom for me.”

Other prisoners tried to coax him out into the free world. John Pace, a former juvenile lifer and now a re-entry coordinator for the Youth Sentencing & Reentry Project (YSRP), recalled a fruitless visit to the prison with a group of other ex-lifers. “If you want to fight, fight it when you get out,” he counseled Ligon at the time.

But Ligon refused to apply for parole, let alone take any required programs.

So Bridge fought three more years to get him released with time served — and won a victory that has given hope to hundreds of other juvenile lifers still on parole.

In federal court, he argued that Ligon’s mandatory maximum sentence of life was unconstitutional.

“The constitution requires that the entire sentence, both the minimum and maximum terms imposed on a juvenile, be individualized — and a one size fits all cannot pass constitutional muster,” he wrote. The Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office agreed. And, on Nov. 13, 2020, Anita B. Brody, Senior U.S. District Judge for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, ordered Ligon resentenced or released within 90 days.

“That was no sad day for me,” Ligon said. He only wished his mother, his father, and his brother could have been there to see it.

The 90-day clock expired Thursday. So, for the first time, Ligon left behind prison walls and visited the public defenders’ Center City office, where files on his case take up an entire room. He seemed unfazed as he placed his face close to a high-tech temperature scanner, then cruised by elevator up to the eighth floor.

Peering out the window, he saw a city transformed.

“I’m looking at all the tall buildings,” he said. “This is all new to me. This never existed.”

He found it unsettling that Eastern State Penitentiary, where he was once imprisoned, is now a museum and Halloween attraction. “That don’t suit my tastes,” he said. He had declined to be included in an exhibit. He feared it would imply “that I’m such a dangerous man, which I’m not.”

He grew up in a different world: a farm in Alabama, where he abandoned school in the third or fourth grade — he said he couldn’t stand being in big groups — much as he would reject educational offerings in prison.

“I’m just a stubborn type of person,” Ligon said. “I was born that way.”

His parents enrolled him in school in Philadelphia when he was 13, but he couldn’t keep up. He was still illiterate when he was arrested at age 15. He believes he was scapegoated as the new kid, the outsider.

A loner, he grew to pride himself on his janitorial skills. In Graterford prison, he learned to read and write. He trained as a boxer there, developing a military-style workout regimen he continues to this day, despite his arthritis.

He never applied for commutation, though he could have had a strong chance at clemency in the 1970s, when hundreds of Pennsylvania lifers were released. Instead, he put his faith in Bridge and waited for the day he’d be released. To prepare himself for modern society, he watched world news on a small TV in his cell.

“I like my chances,” he said Thursday. “I really like my chances in terms of surviving.”

His road to release, though, was riddled with obstacles. After the U.S. Supreme Court banned mandatory life terms for minors in 2012, Pennsylvania refused to apply the ruling retroactively. Another ruling in 2016 ordered the state and others to do so.

Then, mitigation specialists had to prepare for his resentencing, tracking down school transcripts and prison records spanning more than half a century. “Every infraction, every transfer, that was the way to put his [biography] together,” said Billi Charron, who was tasked with compiling his history and a home plan.

Ligon’s aversion to parole kept him locked up for years after that, until the November ruling set the 90-day deadline for his release.

That left Ligon’s supporters scrambling to line up everything he’d need to come home.

Charron, Pace and Eleanor Myers, a senior advisor at YSRP, volunteered to assist — a process that ultimately included support from 10 city agencies, the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, and various nonprofit organizations. Philadelphia’s Reentry Coalition directed Myers to Philadelphia Corporation for Aging, which found Ligon a place in domiciliary care, a foster-care-like accommodation with a family in Philadelphia.

“Then we had to figure out how to pay for it,” said Myers. The Philadelphia Office of Homeless Services agreed to cover the first year, while a benefits specialist is helping to get Social Security lined up after that. A modest crowdfunding campaign helped cover incidentals.

“We have this extraordinary community that has rallied to make this happen,” Myers said.

Pace, meanwhile, picked out sweaters and socks he thought Ligon would like. He found a phone with no data plan, figuring Ligon won’t need it. He drove around the neighborhood where Ligon will be staying, checking out the parks and other attractions so he can show Ligon around. And, he solicited advice from other long-serving former lifers. “Just take it slow with Joe,” they advised.

When Pace, 52, first came home nearly four years ago, he felt physically ill from the overstimulation — a sort of emotional equivalent of the bends. “Let’s say mine was on a two, his is going to be on a 10,” Pace said. “He’s been locked up so long, everything changed.”

At the back of his mind, for now, is whether the legal victory in Ligon’s case could be his own pathway off of lifetime parole.

The ruling does not set binding precedent. Nonetheless, Bridge said he’s already been contacted by numerous juvenile lifers hoping to challenge their lifetime parole terms as well. So far, he said, he’s filed similar petitions for three juvenile lifers.

To Bridge, Ligon’s case is a powerful example of punishment taken to senseless extremes.

“We waste people’s lives by over-incarcerating and we waste money by over-incarcerating. His case graphically demonstrates the absurdity of wasting each,” Bridge said Thursday, before dropping Ligon off at his new home. “Hopefully his release, and the release of the juvenile lifers in general, will cause a reevaluation of the way we incarcerate people.”

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xxrainbow-princessxx · 4 years

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Line of Succession - TRR AU

Will Maxwell and Bertrand reveal Barthelemy’s plans? With their divorce coming to fruition, will taking up Lord Devereaux’s offer of legal counsel be in Isabella’s favour?

Chapter list:

Chapter 1: Enough

Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

Chapter 3: Band of Brothers

Chapter 4 Dearest Sympathies

Chapter 5: No Expectations

Tag list: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @desireepow-1986 @rainbowsinthestorm @lorircreates @itslaniquelove @liam-rhys @hopefulmoonobject @speedyoperarascalparty @kimmiedoo5 @rafasgirl23415 @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @the-everlasting-dream

Trigger warning: Violence, death, premonition of death, sexual innuendo, swearing

“If you don’t fucking stop talking in riddles Beaumont...” Drake barked, “What opportunity...” Maxwell spat the pooled blood in his mouth towards Liam, “To make a better Cordonia you fucking idiot...” Maxwell smiled, his teeth stained from the blood as it caught the side of his cheek but Bertrand continued, “Leo was too unpredictable... he had the taste for violence, the taste for war but that wasn’t enough... Liam on the other hand...” Bertrand’s sly smile slowly creeped across his face, “Liam could be manipulated, he did as he was told. Unsuspecting, polite little Liam....” he teased, “... like his father...with the right encouragement...” Bertrand’s brow raised with a cruel chuckle, “The Sons of Earth could have done more than put an Nevrakis on the throne...

Cordonia could have been unstoppable... until your pathetic mother scuppered our plans...” Bertrand turned his nose upwards in disgust, his face reddening in hatred, “that Auvernese bitch ruined everything!” Liam leapt forward but Drake stopped him, pulling back his arms before he could do any further damage, “Li... not yet...” Bertrand laughed spitefully as it took all of Drake’s strength to keep the King in check, “Look at you... as pathetic as your mother!!” Leo pulled the dagger from Bertrand’s hand as he screamed and writhed in pain, Maxwell’s nostrils flared, “Now the next generation are here... they can lead and move us forward and will not disappoint...”

Maxwell’s eyes darkened as he tilted his head towards Leo raising his brow, “You may kill us... but the Sons of Earth are everywhere you turn; no matter where you go - we won’t be far behind!” Maxwell’s glare returned to a furious Liam goading him further with a look of disgust across his face, “Camille will despise you and all you stand for... She will lead us into the new world!!” Liam mustered all of his strength to break from Drake’s hold, his blood boiled with hatred and anger as he began to punch Maxwell like a rag doll. With his fist and jaw clenched, Liam didn’t hold back; an almighty roar escaped his throat as his fist connected with Maxwell’s jaw. Leo grinned as he held the dagger across Bertrand’s throat, “So where is daddy dearest hiding?” Bertrand chuckled, “You stupid, ignorant oaf, he’s been under your nose the whole time; the Rys line is gone... but it doesn’t matter... father will be replaced, the Sons of Earth will rise...” Leo had heard enough poison and toxicity for one day as he gritted his teeth, driving the dagger into Bertrand’s throat before punching him as hard as he could watching mercilessly as the blood poured from his mouth. Leo turned his head towards Liam and Drake, his chest heaving, “They’re no use to us now...” before reaching into his blazer jacket removing a revolver and aimed for each of their heads. The first shot was quickly followed by the second echoing through the dark Catacombs of the Valtorian Estate.

“Leo!” Liam gasped, “What?! You... you can’t...” returning the revolver to his blazer jacket, Leo chuckled, “Dear brother...” his sea green eyes glistened, “I still have diplomatic immunity...” his lips curled upwards as he chuckled, “Isabella cannot execute our divorce for another two months...” Drake and Liam looked at each other extremely confused, “What the fuck Leo?!” Drake exclaimed, “How the hell are you going to tell Sánchez the Beaumont’s are dead...” Leo snorted, “It’s good riddance, they’re collateral damage...” shaking his head, Leo continued, “I need a fucking drink...” as the three men returned to the library, Leo poured himself a large drink, throwing it back immediately wincing as the liquid quelled his conscious. “Leo...” Liam sighed heavily, “What is going on?” Leo ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair sucking in his cheeks, “I found something in correspondence between Constantine and Felipe. Felipe was worried that he was too easily swayed by the Royal Council and he suspected foul play after your mother was murdered... but Constantine being the pig ignorant fucker he was...” Leo clenched his jaw kicking a nearby table, “He never listened...” Leo turned to Liam glaring, “Even in death, he still manages to fuck with our lives!” Liam tilted his head slightly, “But what did you mean the divorce...?”

Drake raised a brow as Leo remained silent, the cogs in his head turning as Leo poured another glass, “You sick son of a bitch!” Drake reached out taking Leo by the throat, his face reddening with anger, “You’re fucking with her aren’t you?! You orchestrated all of this! Is she collateral damage too?!” Leo pushed Drake off of him grunting, “It was to protect her... she knows nothing about any of this other than Camille was taken by Barthelemy!” Drake turned up his nose, shaking his head in disgust, “Sánchez fucking deserves better and you know that!” Leo’s eyes narrowed as he brushed off Drake’s comments as Liam interjected, “Isabella’s still a Beaumont Drake... it’s best she’s kept at arms length...” Drake took a deep breath, his dark piercing eyes stared down both the brother’s who stood in front of him, “I really fucking hope you know what you’re doing Leo, because it’s not a case of if she finds out, she will and I don’t want to be there when she does...” Liam nodded in agreement as Leo thought for a second brushing his stubble with his hand, “That’ll be a bridge to cross when it comes but for now... we have still a lot of work to do...” Drake looked behind him where the hidden door slipped back into place, “What about those two?” Liam patted Drake’s shoulder, “I’ll sort it, don’t worry...”

“Lord Devereaux...” Jimena smiled as she announced Isabella’s guest, Matthew’s serene, calming blue eyes warmed Isabella’s heart and when he spoke she began to melt, “I believe you requested by presence?” he began to smile as her dark chocolate brown eyes lit up, “Good afternoon...” Isabella stood before walking towards him. Matthew’s eyes were drawn to the young monarch as she approached him. Dressed in a white and black Chanel tuxedo dress and her black heels, the Queen’s long raven hued curls tumbled over her shoulders. Matthew felt his breath hitch as her bright, dazzling smile met him, “Yes... there’s something I would like to share with you...” nodding, Lord Devereaux smiled, “I’m glad for the invitation...” Isabella’s hair bounced as she took Matthew’s arm, linking his with her own, “Follow me...” It took her a few days, but she wanted to repay Lord Devereaux’s kindness as she brought him to the library. Spread across the large Laurentian Oak table that graced the middle of the library, it had been adorned with open books and photographs. Isabella grinned as she looked up at Matthew sweetly, “There were a few things in the Royal archive regarding your grandparents, I thought it might be nice before you decided to head back to London to share these with you...”

Matthew picked up one of the photographs showing his grandmother and grandfather posing with Royalty at a Laurentian state function, another was a photograph of her with Queen Thérèse on the day of the Queen’s wedding. “I...” Lord Devereaux glanced at the petite brunette in amazement, “I...” he began to smile warmly, “Thank you...” Isabella nodded before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “It was the least I could do Señor... I must admit that my evening at the state dinner was rather dull until we spoke... and this...” Isabella gestured to the literature and photography laid out, “Is for you to do as you wish... you can take it all...” Matthew ran this fingers through his blonde feathered hair with a chuckle, “Isabella... I... I cannot thank you enough... my grandmother raised me, so for me to even see her past life in this way, is amazing...” Isabella fluttered her long dark eyelashes, “I do have one thing I would like your expertise on... if you wouldn’t mind to discuss over dinner this evening?” Lord Devereaux nodded in agreement, “Anything... of course...” Isabella blushed slightly as she slowly turned on her heel, looking over her shoulder at him, “I’ll leave you be and someone will be with you soon to let you know when dinner is served...”

Between courses, Isabella and Matthew spoke at length as they got to know each other a little better, “Your Majesty... as much as I am happy to be in your company, I believe you had requested me to review something for you?” Isabella nodded, “Of course...” as she passed him as sealed envelope, “I know you do not deal with divorce but I would appreciate if you could review this prenuptial agreement to ascertain whether there are any legal implications outside of this that may impact the constitution...” Matthew removed the document, scanning through the wording as Isabella waited patiently. Matthew’s brow raised slightly in question as his stunning blue eyes met Isabella’s, “Is there a page missing?” as he quickly flicked through the document again. Isabella shook her head, “No... I don’t believe so Señor... why?” Lord Devereaux took a deep breath, his lips were pursed, “Your Majesty... Isabella... I...” The petite brunette’s smile slowly faded as she tilted her head slightly to the left, “What is it?” Matthew nodded as he continued, “Legally, this as a prenuptial agreement is sound... but it is constitutionally invalid... there is a very old, unused clause in the constitution...” Matthew looked around to ensure that no one else was in the room, “There is an enforceable law hidden in the context of the ‘El matrimonio constitucional entre el rey y la reina debe ser igual y equilibrado’ clause...” Isabella’s eyes narrowed as she tried to understand but the sadness that filled Matthew’s eyes was a give away, “Isabella... I don’t know why there has been no provision in your prenuptial agreement to counterbalance or why this was overlooked in the Constitution but essentially it means that with a divorce or any death, the Monarch cannot rule alone... and any of the legal heirs can claim right to the throne... your children are still young but this can be any living relative...”

“This is why all Monarch’s were essentially betrothed at such a young age to ensure that they were classified as a legitimate heir; I was always confused why your father lifted the betrothal element but not the marriage element... this clause comes into effect two months after the decree absolute or death but an eligible heir can come forward at any time to claim the throne... unfortunately it’s well hidden, but in there...” Isabella bit down on her lip quietly, her chest tightened as she tried to hold back her tears; not only was Leo wanting to destroy her, he wanted to destroy their family - everything she had worked so hard for, gone. The only consolation was that he gave her a head start for forward dating the divorce papers. Matthew softly placed his hand onto Isabella’s as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes immediately locked into his, her long dark eyelashes fluttered as she listened to him whisper to her, “I promise I will help you as much as I can...

You don’t deserve this...” As he brushed his thumb against her olive, sun kissed skin, Isabella felt a rush like no other, staring into his hauntingly pale blue eyes as if she could see into his very soul. He was kind, charming and she felt a comfort that she hadn’t felt in a long time. As Matthew’s phone began to vibrate, he let go of Isabella’s hand, “Sorry Your Majesty... unfortunately the Duke of Lorien has passed, I must meet with the executor...” Isabella nodded, “Yes...” she cleared her throat bringing her back into her reality, “Yes of course...” As Lord Devereaux left Isabella sitting at the table alone, she stared at her engagement and wedding ring she still wore before her dark chocolate brown eyes latched onto the empty seat beside her. Swallowing hard, the petite brunette stood tall, removing her rings from her perfectly manicured finger placing them on the dining table and without a second glance, she walked out closing the door behind her.

#choices #the royal romance #leo x isabella #King Liam #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #prince leo #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance #queen isabella #royal romance au #playchoices fanfiction

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ay I have an ikesen matchup, please? I’m an asexual cis girl who leans to boys. Yet, shy around them. Lacking some experience with general things. So I tend to be obvious. Sometimes sarcastic and bold, but with an innocent mindset. Since most dirty jokes fly over my head and I think some people mean well. Though being a little sensitive and may cry.

I’ve been told I can get lost in my own world. I’m a tan brown girl with dark brown curly hair. A petite figure, 5'6. I have a girly, pastel free attire. I love vintage things, post-rock, jazz songs. I love to draw and express myself through art. My dream is to become an illustrator or cartoonist. Including my love for stuff animals, Grimm brother tales.

Hi hi Love! 🌻❤Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy it and i hope you have the best day! Also sorry for taking soooooo long! ❤❤🌻

So I match you with…………. Hideyoshi

The first time you arrived at the castle, Hideyoshi did not trust you one bit. He watched you like a hawk from day one. He didn’t like it when strangers got so close to his lord.

You kept your head down and worked hard, and all the maids and castle staff really adored you. You were so sweet and kind, like a little rabbit. Even Nobunaga had taken a liking to you, and as classic standard procedure for him, he invited you up to his room that night. When Mamabear heard that Nobunaga has called you to his room, Hidemama, was on high alert. He and Mitsuhide had followed you as you made your way to Nobunaga’s room. They hid in the shadows, and when you finally entered their lord’s room, they placed their ears against the door ready to burst into the room at a seconds notice.

You shyly made your way up the stairs into Nobu’s room, you hadn’t seen him since he named you as, princess. It wasn't even 3 second into the conversations when he, made a pass at you, about wanting you to warm his bed for the night. A comment which mind you, flew right over your head. Your mind was so innocent and pure, and this boy legit had to explain his intentions to you, which left you blushing. You very kindly told him that you were not that kind of girl, “Fine then fireball, but I still expect you to entertain me somehow.” You were curious as to why someone so busy was still awake so late, and that’s when he told you that he struggles to fall asleep. You gave him a gentle smile and said that you knew a few tips and tricks that could help.

You told him to lay down in his futon, he did as you asked with the most amused glint in his crimson eyes. You then tucked him in and started playing with his hair. “You are treating me like a child, fireball.” You gave him another one of your gentle smiles, you couldn’t help but make a sarcastic comeback to his comment. Nobunaga simply smirked up at you, especially after you mentioned that you were going to tell him a bedtime story. You knew so many stories thanks to your love of the brothers Grimm tales. By the end of your story, Nobunaga’s breath had evened out, and he was now fast asleep.

Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide knew that if you were to do something, now would be the ideal opportunity. They strained their ears to hear what you were saying. You looked down at the sleeping man’s face and smiled, “Here is one more thing to make sure you sleep soundly.” When Hideyoshi heard you say those words, he opened the door to peek inside the room, it sounded like you were going to kill him. He was shook when you kissed the man’s forehead and stood up, extinguishing the candles. Hideyoshi is that moment realized he had majorly misjudged you, you weren’t an assassin, you were just an extremely kind sweet girl.

The next morning you woke up to your room that was filled to the brim with clothes, flowers and little trinkets. You were super confused, even more so when Hideyoshi had entered into your room carrying a tray of breakfast and a sunshine smile. You had to do a bit of a double-take cause you have never seen anything other than a scowl coming from Hideyoshi. “Oooh good you're awake, I brought you some breakfast, and I came to apologize for the horrible way I’ve been treating you.” He then bowed down super low to you. Honestly, it all felt like one big dream.

Hideyoshi then invited you out to the markets where he absolutely insisted on buying you even more gifts, to make up for his mistakes. You had come to really enjoy this new side of Yoshi, he was super sweet and kind, like a protective older brother

Since then every spare moment he got, he would spend with you. The two of you loved going out for tea together or just browsing the markets. When Hideyoshi had discovered that you enjoyed jazz music he would take you to any and every jazz performance he could find. He would usually make up a picnic basket, filled with delicious snacks and then surprise you with an outdoor picnic concert. The two of you would then sit and enjoy some good food, and music together.

Hideyoshi loved spending time with you, and the more time the two of you spent together, the more and more he found himself falling hopelessly in love with you. He loved your sweet, pure, innocent mind. You were honestly like the female version of his sweet angelic vassal. Who like you was blissfully unaware of Mitsuhide and Masamune’s dirty jokes and minds.

He also enjoyed watching your bold, sarcastic side come out. It would usually happen when he would confront Mitsuhide. In the midst of his arguments with the snek, you would be right there by Hideyoshi’s side, backing him up. Firing sarcastic comebacks at Mitsuhide whenever he gets on Hideyoshi’s nerves, or evades Hidemama’s questions with sarcastic remarks.

Hideyoshi also loves that you love animals. This boys heart melts into a puddle of goo whenever he sees you playing with Uri, his pet monkey. He will stand in the doorway, beaming with pure happiness at the sight of his two beloved girls spending time together. It was then when Hideyoshi started to make plans to confess his love for you. This doting mother is a hopeless romantic so its, go big or go home when it comes to love.

That morning you woke up to a little not resting next to your pillow, the note contained instructions to a game. You smiled as you solved the small riddle at the bottom of the page leading you to the next clue. After running around the castle solving all sorts of little puzzles, the final note led you to Hideyoshi’s manor. You open the main door to see a path of rose petals leading you outside. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, Hideyoshi standing in front of a candlelit dinner in the middle of his garden. Honestly, the best part was that he had dressed little Uri up like a waiter, who gave you a single red rose and the final note with the words sprawled across the page, “I love you.”

The two of you made the sweetest couple. Hideyoshi loved everything about you from your loving, kind heart to your sarcastic, bold side. He loved it when you would doodle small cartoon pictures on the napkins during your tea dates. He loved the beautiful art pieces that you would create, they expressed so much emotion and always left him breathless. He would proudly display all your art around the manor.

When you had told him your dream of becoming a cartoonist and illustrator, he was ecstatic and was determined to help you make that dream come true, even though you were now stuck in the past. Yoshi introduced some of your drawings to Nobunaga, who loved your illustrations so much that he commissioned you to start writing children’s books, to inspire the young minds to follow their dreams. And although Nobunaga would never admit it, he loves reading your children’s books at night, as they to help calm his cluttered mind enough for him to fall asleep.

Hideyoshi knows what a soft sensitive soul you are, and is always by your side to protect you against anyone or anything. If you are feeling low or sad, he would gather you in his strong arms and whispers words of love in your ears. Honestly, this man will shower you with love and affection from dusk to dawn. He absolutely loves to dote on you so, expect to be pampered like the sweet princess you are, cause this man WILL spoil you.

Yoshi loves to sit behind you with his arms circled around your waist and his chin propped up resting on your shoulder, as you draw your latest illustrations. He could spend hours just watching you bring the most beautiful and creative drawings and cartoons to life.

Don’t be surprised if he occasionally drops a few sweet kisses on your shoulder or cheek as you work. He will 100% brag about your work to everyone in the castle after you are done. He is your biggest cheerleader, and he loves everything you do.

Often the two of you cuties can be found simply holding hands in the teahouse, chatting away about everything and anything.

Other potential matches………….. Kennyo

I hope you enjoyed it and i hope you have a super good day! 🌻😳🐇@daydreamerneko123

#matchups #match ups #ikesen matchup #matches #hideyoshi toyotomi #toyotomi hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi #hideyoshi matchup #submission

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project-ohagi · 4 years

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Kyoka Jirou x Reader {Monster AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

The wind ruffled your tails as you stalked further and further into the night. Your breathing was laboured and crimson cuts littered your body. You couldn't understand why they were pursuing you; it wasn't as though you had been doing anything wrong. In fact - you were simply undertaking your daily routine, when, quite suddenly, you felt something graze your glorious fur. It prickled, and you snarled, turning around to check your surroundings. You failed to see the snipers, the smaller guns, the silver bullets and the other objects gleaming with malice. You started backwards. Your ears twitched.

Another shell skirted past your neck. You whimpered. This wasn't supposed to happen; your forest was a peaceful place, riddled with multicoloured fairies, large lakes which sheltered a variety of creatures, including Kappa, magnificent trees that were also home to a few different species, and of course, your family. You lived in a clearing, far from where you were now, flanked by trees and foliage, bodies of water and special barriers. You refused to lead these intruders to your comfortable habitat. You cared too deeply for your fellow Kitsune.

You could have transformed right in front of these malignant individuals, yet you didn't. You wouldn't give them any more reason to follow, to hunt, to kill. Your nine, flowing tails were prime targets though, and very sensitive. You obtained your final tail a mere two weeks ago, when you finally turned one thousand years of age. It would bring shame on your family if you were to die now, at the hands of these evil humans. You bounded further into the thick forest, attempting to lose your pursuers at every twist and turn. However, for some reason, they always seemed capable of finding you. Perhaps it was the distinct scent you gave off, that was different from all the other forest-dwelling beings, or maybe it was simply because your natural form was far too difficult to hide. You decided that it would be in your best interest to find a safe spot, transform, and get out as fast as possible. You didn't quite know why these people were here, intruding on sacred land, but they were both annoying and frightening. You also weren't sure why they were using such primitive weapons - surely humans these days had powers? You could attest to having seen as much with your own eyes.

As you were pondering this, you spotted an opening - a little space beyond some shrubbery, with a forbidding river cutting off the path. Thankfully, you were friendly with all the water spirits and monsters, so getting across wasn't going to be a problem. You glanced back, not seeing your attackers, although you could still hear the chinks of their metal boots on the lush forest floor. Your heart was racing.

There was a familiar face beside the river; it was a Kappa with whom you were close. You signalled the forthcoming danger. Your friend nodded, not seeming fazed in the least - they were very good with deception, and had a hard head. They could cover for you until you were across the river. You thanked the stars that you were able to swim.

You crossed with ease, emerging on the other side with a dripping coat. Throwing one final, grateful look at the Kappa, you turned and bolted. You ran for around another twenty minutes, making sure to put as much distance between yourself and the intruders as you could. However, your legs grew increasingly tired, and soon enough, they buckled. You fell to the ground with a thud. The earth shook, causing all the loose leaves and creatures to jump and scurry away. Your breaths were shallower now, as you could finally focus on regulating them. You were breathing through your nose, still reluctant to trust the peaceful atmosphere. Once you had regained most of your strength, you adorned your human form. You forgot to do it earlier, but your other plan had worked like a charm. (H/c) locks flowed from atop your head, caressing your face like a silk handkerchief. Your eyelashes fluttered, revealing bright (e/c) eyes. On your body was a simple, snowy-white dress. You couldn't exactly control what sort of clothing materialised - you hadn't yet mastered this ability. You knew your mother could do that; she was a very experienced Kitsune, after all (at least, that's what she wanted you to tell people).

There was another river in this place, but this one had a cascading waterfall and a bunch of giant rocks, perfect for sitting on. You wandered over to the biggest one, which was located directly underneath the waterfall. You perched there, feeling the water seep into your hair and roll down on to your dress.

"Hello?"

You cracked one eye open; the voice didn't seem threatening. In fact - whoever it was sounded lost. It was the voice of a young woman, not one of those hunters. She probably didn't even know they were also in the forest. You gazed at her, scanning her petite figure with an air of caution. She was beautiful, with choppy, purple hair and what looked like earphone jacks? You had seen those before, you remembered, somewhere in the city. Apparently humans plugged them into electronic devices in order to listen to things privately.

"Yes?" You asked, turning her full attention towards you.

A crimson blush appeared on her cheeks. "Hi, um...I'm kinda lost. Do you know how to get out of this forest?"

You slipped off the rock. "Why did you come here?"

She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "I was here with my friends, but we got separated. I've been walking around for ages." She paused, looking at you in confusion. "Why are you here?"

"I was being followed, so I came here for sanctuary." You responded, circling her.

"Followed by who? Are they here now? Are you okay?" She became more frantic when she saw your wounds. "Oh my god, what happened? Did you get shot? You need to see a doctor or something! If you come with me, I can take you to Recovery Gir-"

You shook your head, pointing to the waterfall. "The water in this place is good for healing."

She didn't look convinced. "You're covered in blood and wounds!"

"You interrupted me."

She winced. "Sorry, but really, you should see someone about those."

"You should leave. You said you were lost?"

She expressed embarrassment again. "Yeah..."

"Then come. I can show you the way."

With an appreciative nod, she allowed you to lead her out of the clearing. You weren't quite certain what had compelled you to help this lost stranger, but she wasn't anything to be afraid of, and she was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. Just remembering her words and tone was enough to make you shiver. It was something different and exciting - something you hadn't done before. Normally, you tried to stay far away from humans and the city. Your family didn't want anything to do with that lifestyle. Some beasts did opt to blend in with the humans, and actually, that included a lot of Kitsune. You had interacted with humans before, but it was never for very long. You weren't sure how long you could keep your human form. This girl was one of the first people you had met since gaining your ninth tail.

It seemed as though she wanted to say something; perhaps she would thank you again, or perhaps she thought the silence stifling. Either way, she was mumbling a lot, but your senses were more enhanced than a human's, and you picked up on every single word, despite how incoherent it might have sounded to one of her own kind. You halted, turning your head to glance at the girl. She hadn't noticed that you stopped, and you didn't move out of her way. She bumped into you, and her face immediately fell. She jumped backwards, waving her arms around. Her cheeks were even more flushed than earlier.

"Do you not like the silence?" You questioned, tilting your head.

She blinked twice. "No, t-that's not it."

You said nothing.

"Who are you...exactly?" She suddenly asked, cautiously.

There was another round of silence, and she figured that might have been something you didn't want to ask. She panicked - that could be seriously misconstrued. Here you were, trying to help her, and she was just being rude. However, after a few minutes of humiliating her, she saw a smile creep on to your features. It was the smallest thing, and had she not been paying attention, she definitely would have missed it.

"My name is (Y/n)." Your voice was soft, sweet, and she could almost hear the faintest giggle.

"O-Oh, cool." She gulped, extending a hand. "Kyoka Jirou."

You nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. Uh...are you about my age? What school do you go to?" She asked.

Humming, you wondered if you should lie - she would never know any different. Although, for some reason, you didn't really want to do that. It was a complicated thing to mull over. Humans could be so frail, yet so conniving, but you were convinced that this girl was pure. She looked like she would make a good mate, despite her genetics.

Eventually, you made a decision: "I'm afraid I don't attend a 'school'. We learn culture and the ways of life here, in the forest. I suppose this form does resemble your age, but in reality, I am a lot older."

"No way." She breathed. "Are you, like, a fairy or something?"

An amused sound caught in your throat. "Not quite."

"...What are you then?" She questioned, interest piqued.

"A Kitsune." You replied, trailing a hand across your back.

For less than a second, she saw a total of nine (h/c) tails, freely flowing in the crisp breeze. When you swiped your hand across them, they disappeared, and she was left wondering whether they had even been there in the first place, or if it was simply an illusion. Nevertheless, she found it really cool. She briefly thought that it might have been a quirk, but you mentioned being taught in the forest. Plus, the vibe you gave was otherworldly - like you weren't supposed to exist on this plane of reality. You were a fantastic beast; no wonder you were being followed.

She grinned. "Can you show me some tricks, then?"

[Word Count: 1738]

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #mha kyoka #kyoka jiro #kitsune #monster au #kyoka jiro x reader #female reader

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ballerinaroy · 4 years

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her plan

The plan was simple. Travel back in time before the Death Eaters, before the Horcruxes, before Tom Riddle ever had a chance to shed his muggle father’s name and kill him. There was only one problem, the same problem that had caused their side to lose. Having morals.

A Tom/Ginny novel I’ll never write.

Ginny hadn’t been chosen she had chosen herself. It had been her plan, after all. She knew him, had seen him. Knew what he was capable of. He’d been her induction into the wizarding world. The subject of her nightmares ever since.

A refugee, only eighteen but starved and skinny enough to pass for younger.

“Except for the eyes,” George had told her when they’d prepared. “You look ancient.”

“And you look so much better,” Ginny chided. “At least I managed to keep both my ears.”

It had only been them left. Everyone else picked off one by one. Left with no other choice.

“Ginny,” George said helplessly. He hugged her, tight. The way their mother had when she was frightened. The way their father had when he’d restrained her from running at Harry’s body, limp in Hagrid’s arms.

“I know,” she told him, unwilling to let their last memory of him be full of tears. And then came the promise neither of them could make. “It’ll all be okay.”

Only neither of them knew. There was no way of knowing. Even the smallest changes had ripple effects and this…

Survival wasn’t the question. It was wether she’d exist at all. Part of her—the very small part that she’d discovered that she’d been conceived just weeks after her uncle’s deaths—hoped that she wouldn’t. That her parents would never have so much grief as to need a whole broad of children. Would not fear losing one so much that they needed to make another. That they might live in a world so happy that it wouldn’t take so many children to feel like the world was complete.

End the war before it began. Make it so she’d never have to know.

George released her at last. He appraised her one final time, lip trembling ever so slightly and told her in a falsely cheerful tone. “You’d better be Gryffindor again.”

The laugh that escaped her was strange, hurt her throat. It had been so long since she’d last laughed.

“You should go,” she told him, wiping her eyes. “This amount of magic, it’s bound to attract attention.”

“Well, if we’re right about this, it won’t matter at all.”

The thought gave her a strange comfort. “Well, wish me luck. Just going to go kill You-Know-Who.”

George looked as though he wanted to embrace her again, come up with an excuse for her to stay. Ginny knew if she didn’t do it now she never would.

“Good luck.” He said, carefully stepping back.

Her last sight was of the tears streaming down his cheeks as the whole world spun away from her.

Ginny had never used a time turner before and found the process to be utterly revolting. Her first few moments of 1942 in fact were spent spewing what little contents her stomach held and it took her perhaps half an hour to orient herself enough to get off of the forest ground.

They’d chosen the area, miles from Hogsmeade for it’s relative reassurance that no one would stumble upon her. Scotland, weeks before the Hogwarts term started again. Enough time to scrounge some gold and a cover before she’d be expected to start at Hogwarts.

“Homeschooled?” Dippit asked as she petitioned for her admittance into Hogwarts.

“My father, I believe you knew him, Gerold Weasley?”

Dipit nodded, looking at her over the papers she’d presented him with.

“Well, after my mother’s death, he didn’t think it safe for me. Or, I think he rather wanted to keep me close. He was lonely, knew his time would come.

Dippit peered over the top of the papers he was examining, interest in his eyes.

“Dragon pox,” she said, a carefully placed hitch in her voice. “He didn’t suffer long.”

The headmaster looked away uncomfortably as she dried her eyes.

“I know it’s unorthodox but, I wanted to come to Hogwarts, and now that my father has passed I have nowhere else to go.”

Ginny goes back in time to Riddle’s fifth year. She confounds her way into Hogwarts with the intention of killing off Riddle before he ever gets the chance to become Voldemort. Poison, they’d decided, because of it’s relative access if she knew the right potions—which she did—and because a killing curse didn’t seem plausible, no matter how much hate she held for him.

Only, Tom isn’t the person she knew. Or rather he’s the Tom she’d forgotten. After all she’d known his soul. He was quiet, calculating. But not cruel. Always asking insightful questions, charming. And no matter how many times Harry had told her of his handsomeness she wasn’t prepared for him to really be so very attractive. It takes several weeks to gain his trust, not confidence, but enough confidence in her that he was lazy around her.

Finally as they’re about to break for Christmas, Ginny starts the process of poisoning him. Small doses, wrecking his insides. He will suffer, just as all the people she loved would one day, but as he grows weak he begins to confide in her. About how his mother abandoned him, about how his father never sought him out. Of how his whole life had been tainted by the act he’d started before even drawing his first breath.

“My first act in life was killing my mother.

“You should recognize her sacrifice, be who she wanted you to be.”

“I’ll never know what she wanted for me.”

It’s this small confession that makes Ginny reevaluate what she’s done. He’s no monster, misguided sure, but he’s never known better. Ginny thinks, perhaps, that she could guide him into the light. Show him that he matters, that life is worth living. There are discoveries to be made.

After all she knows him. And Ginny’s always had a soft spot for the orphan who is reckless with their life.

She halts the plan and dedicates herself to saving him. No one in her mind is above redemption. And who would she be if she were to kill someone before they had the chance to do something good? Tom grows warmer to her, begins confiding in her. He tells her how afraid he is of death.

“It haunts me. I wake at night, I hear it around every corner. It’s coming for me.”

“Death’s not coming for you.”

“You think I’m mad. Just like all the others. Whenever I speak about it scares people away. I thought you were different.”

“I’m not frightened, I just think you’re obsessing over something that isn’t a possibility.”

“And how should you know? Have you ever known death like I have?”

Ginny bit her tongue as image after image flashed through her mind. Fred, Tonks and Lupin. Harry. Harry. The rest were too painful to name.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He said, turning away from her. “Forget I said anything.”

So she said the only thing she could. “You’re right, I couldn’t understand. So help me to.”

It’s a slippery slope from going back in time to kill him to deciding to save him to thinking that perhaps one Horcrux can’t harm anything. Just one. Not seven. She’ll never let it get act far. And who is she to pass judgement? Her hands are not clean.

The chamber opens and all of the trauma from her first year at Hogwarts comes back with a vengeance. Paralyzes her. The professors take concern. Ask her those same questions as they did.

You look ill, are you sure you’re alright?

Then others regard her with suspicion. The transfer student, gifted, quiet. They don’t say it, but she can see it in their eyes.

The longer she’s in the past, the longer she’s around him, the easier it is to understand why he’s so frightened by his own mortality. And it’s a ripple effect. She’ll only have to change one thing really to make sure the world she wants won’t happen.

Besides, Tom doesn’t seem that cruel. Doesn’t talk about blood purity or eradicating muggles. All he cares for is ensuring he won’t die before he has a chance to live.

There’s talks of closing the school. Ginny feels sick with guilt. She doesn’t know when but knows it’ll happen soon and she’s failed. She falls asleep to dreams of her family rejecting her, shunning her for failing.

“There was nothing else I could do!”

“Yes there was Ginny.”

Ginny awakes from the dream sobbing, knowing she only has one chance. She goes to comfort him and finds him dressed, slipping from the common room. Ginny follows him from the dungeons, up the stairs and into the girls lavatory.

She’s seconds too late and shuts her eyes just in time as a horrible scream is cut off abruptly. The scraping of a passage opening, the slither of the snake disappearing.

Ginny knows what to do. She has to stop him, now, before he has a chance to perform the ritual. Before he takes the first step towards his immortality. It’s just like when she was a child. Opening the sink, sliding down the grimy passage, emerging in a vast chamber.

Tom is standing at the end of the passage, staring up at the statue of Slytherin.

She raises her wand and, without turning, he addresses her.

“Ginny, I was wondering when you’d come.”

She stopped, still at the end of the passage and stared at him. When he turned he’s as cool as ever. No sign of what’s about to come.

“Or perhaps the more accurate statement was I was wondering if you would come. Perhaps there is some Gryffindor in you yet-“

“What are you-?”

“There’s no need to lie to me Ginny. I know.”

Her mouth felt very dry as she stared at him.

“I’ve known from the start. From the moment our eyes met I knew you were special.

“You’ve already learned legilimency.”

Tom’s features turned into a nasty smirk. “Yes. Rather advanced magic that. It didn’t help that you were always trying to look over my shoulder but I managed to master the basics of it. And you gave me motivation to keep practicing.”

Ginny didn’t say anything as another cold wave of failure rushed over her. But he didn’t need motivation to keep going, spilling his secrets to her.

“So much more than meets the eye. Traveled back in time to kill me? Only you couldn’t go through with it. All I had to do was show you a shred of humanity. Anything you would have run with. And all the while you couldn’t stop noticing the similarities between me and the boy that I will kill.

“To think I might not have ever stumbled across the magic if I hadn’t first heard the whisper in your thoughts. Horcruxes. What an obscure little piece of magic. It might have taken me years to find it and yet here you are, a living diary of all I will ever do. Well, what I might have done. But thanks to you I won’t make the same mistakes.”

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” He drawls and a smile split his face as though it was a very clever thing to have said.

Ginny tries fighting off the curse that has her paralyzed, tries to gain control of her body but it’s no use. She’s powerless to him. There’s nothing to be done.

Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever. Ginny should have known it was a prophecy.

#roywrites #Ginny Weasley #tom riddle

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konigindernachtsblog · 4 years

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Bring me to life.

Se réveiller fut pour Maximus comme sortir la tête de l’eau après avoir craint la noyade. A ceci près que c’était la noyade dans le vide qu’il avait redouté. Mais le vide n’était jamais venu l’enlacer, pour une raison qu’il ignorait encore. Pourtant, il se souvenait encore clairement de la douleur qu’il avait ressentit dans la poitrine et des larmes de sa mère, face à lui, mais aussi de la voix de sa soeur criant son nom. Puis plus rien. Tout c’était arrêté. Le jeune Riddle avait lentement ouvert les yeux et fut d’abord aveuglé un court instant par une lumière claire. Il distinguait un mur de pierre, une fenêtre en vitrail encadrée de rideaux mais surtout, il aperçu une silhouette féminine vêtue de noir.

« Stay calm, dear, your body needs still to recover, as much as your mind. - Mother, souffla Maximus. Am I in the limbos… - No, love, répondit Mara doucement en venant passer sa main sur le front de son fils. You are in our new home. - What happened… ? »

Mara Riddle sourit tristement en passant tendrement la main dans les cheveux de son fils. Il se réveillait après des semaines de coma. Mina et sa mère avaient eu le temps d’organiser les obsèques de Maximus et leur fuite de Caer Oswin pour un petit Coven de sorcières. Elles n’y étaient pas restées longtemps, à cause d’Erchomai qui menaçait. Mina venait tout juste de fonder son propre Coven en Transylvanie. Elles avaient élu domicile dans un vieux château aux allures de cathédrale gothique et veillaient sur Maximus.

« As the crown was hunting you for your experiences to find and recover your father, I thought that the best alternative we had to save you was to leave Caer Oswin. To do so, I simulated your death. For everybody in the city but us, you are dead and buried near your father. - But if I am here… the tomb is empty, isn’t it ? - I made a glamour with a corpse. As soon as we buried you, we disappeared with Mina for Earth. No one knew, but Minos. - What about our manor… ? - It got emptied and burned by Minos on my orders. »

Cela faisait beaucoup à assimiler d’un coup. Maximus avait fermé les yeux au cimetière de Caer Oswin, la main de sa mère lui transperçant le torse, prête à lui broyer le coeur et il se retrouvait sur terre avec sa mère lui expliquant que tout ceci n’avait été qu’un coup monté dans l’espoir de le sauver des soupçons de la couronne. D’un côté, pourtant, ça ne l’étonnait pas. En peu de temps, lui et sa soeur en avaient beaucoup appris sur l’histoire de leurs parents avant leur naissance et avec cela, tous les stratagèmes et les cachoteries que leur mère avait dû mettre au point pour protéger leur père de sa soif de pouvoir et de ses dérives. Le jeune hybride baissa les yeux et poussa un soupir.

« You didn’t find the strength to kill me, don’t you ? Or was it just mercy ? - In my part of the family, we call it « love », Maximus. - I thought you had this word only for Minos. - Obviously not! Rétorqua Mara avant de baisser les yeux. You deserved better than the life we had in Caer Oswin, Maximus. A life where your only accomplishment would be a wedding and feeling guilty all your life for being watched by the crown on any occasion. You deserve better than running after a dead loved one… - That’s why you saved me then ? A new start. - You need time to process all of that, dear. Your sister will be relieved to hear you’re now awaken. - How is Mina… ? »

Un court silence s’installa dans la chambre où se trouvait la mère et son fils. Maximus ne savait pas pour Mina et Tristan. Ou si, du moins, sûrement s’en doutait-il fortement. Après tout, l’amour que Mina portait à Tristan depuis son jeune âge n’était pas un secret pour lui. Il n’ignorait pas non plus de l’intérêt de Tristan pour Mina, manifesté il n’y avait pas si longtemps. Ce n’était d’ailleurs pas le seul prince à convoiter la jeune Riddle.

« She is… heartbroken. But relieved that we left Caer Oswin, she was incredibly worried about the both of us, Maximus. She is now ruling a small coven, that, I am sure, will grow up quickly. She keeps learning a lot. She waited so long for you to open your eyes… It felt for her as losing her half… »

Maximus sembla d’un coup plus touché par les mots de sa mère, quand elle fit mention de sa soeur et de son possible état psychologique. Il avait été inconscient si longtemps et s’était tant perdu dans sa quête de retrouver leur père dans le vide, qu’il craignait ne plus avoir ce lien avec elle, qui faisait qu’il arrivait à ressentir les mêmes choses que sa soeur. Mina avait toujours réussi à apporter à Maximus un peu de douceur et son cours moment de retour à la raison avant sa « mort » en avait été la preuve.

« Mother… - Yes, dear ? - Do you think I can do it ? - Your father always told you you could do whatever you want and on that, I cannot disagree. You have the abilities to do what you want and to become who you want to be. The only thing I ask you Maximus, is to act with your eyes and your mind fully open. Care about the loved one you still have, use your abilities for the better. Power is attractive but is a vain fulfilment. I can bet your father hasn’t been really happy in his life and on that, I can take a part of the responsibility… - That’s what Minos understood and I didn’t… ? - Nor Minos or I would never wish you the same sad story that he got through to reach his actual level of power and wisdom, love. We all have our suffering, we all learn different things from it. The only thing I can tell you, Maximus, is I wish you could reach the same greatness as your father, without making us pay the price for it as he did. »

Il fallut quelques jours de plus pour que le jeune Riddle retrouve ses forces après avoir frôlé la mort. Mina n’avait pas encore pu le revoir, puisqu’elle avait quitté le Coven pour récupérer de nouvelles recrues. Quand finalement, elle arriva dans l’aile la plus intime de la famille au château et ôta sa capuche avant de voir son frère sur pieds, elle se hâta de le rejoindre et de le serrer dans ses bras. Maximus la rattrapa aussitôt et l’enlaça de ses bras avec force, dissimulant son visage dans ses longs cheveux doux et couleur jais. À cet instant, l’héritier Riddle sembla soulagé et triste à la fois. Il ressentait toujours les émotions de sa soeur. Maximus embrassa la tempe de Mina et s’éloigna légèrement pour prendre doucement son visage dans ses mains. De son pouce, il essuya une larme qui roulait sur sa joue.

« Maximus, souffla-t-elle encore sous l’émotion. - There is no word to describe how much I missed you… and how deeply sorry I am for what I did to you, chuchota Maximus avant de déposer un baiser sur son front. I wasn’t here to protect you when you needed me, I’ve been so blind I am ashamed… »

Il était temps de se reconstruire à l’abris des regards, libérés d’une partie de la culpabilité et d’un petit fardeau. Il restait encore beaucoup à accomplir pour souder ce qu’il restait de la famille, mais l’espoir pouvait renaître. À Caer Oswin, seul Minos Riddle savait. Pour le reste du monde, Maximus Riddle était mort et enterré, le manoir Riddle entier vidé et en cendres. Mara et Mina Riddle avaient disparu du jour au lendemain sans laisser de traces. Le dernier à avoir vu Mina était le Prince Tristan. Le temps passait et Minos Riddle devenait de plus en plus solitaire et son humeur, de plus en plus exécrable. Il perdait patience, avait davantage de mal à cacher sa rage. Il ne trouvait un peu de calme qu’au temple de la Pythie et pourtant, il s’y sentait davantage prisonnier que gardien. Sa mère et sa sœur lui manquaient. Aussi étonnant que ça puisse paraître, on l’avait vu sincèrement regretter son frère Maximus. Avec les années qui passaient, on commençait à entendre des rumeurs comme quoi la veuve et la fille de Vaine Riddle avaient certainement perdu la vie aussi, sûrement de chagrin. Pourtant, Minos Riddle était toujours là. En réalité, il disparaissait plusieurs fois dans l’année, le temps de quelques heures. Il rendait visite à sa mère et les jumeaux, que seul lui savaient encore en vie. Il avait plusieurs fois pensé à quitter son rôle et peut-être Caer Oswin, mais il n’osait pas. À Caer Oswin, il avait encore Lucrezia et Killian. Aussi, il avait promis à la Pythie quand elle n’était encore qu’une enfant, qu’il serait là pour la protéger. Or, s’il y avait bien une qualité que l’on pouvait accorder à Minos Riddle, c’était sa droiture, il ne brisait pas une promesse.

Le Coven de Mina, dans le même temps, prenait de l’ampleur. Miss Riddle était connue chez les sorcières et même respectée. On l’avait appelé « the black maiden », en raison de tous les hommes qu’elle avait gentiment rejeté. On donnait plusieurs raisons à cela. Certains disaient qu’elle dédiait sa vie à Satan et les arts occultes, d’autres, que son coeur était attaché à un amour maudit, certains, que son amant n’était autre que son propre frère. L’héritière Riddle ne prenait pas le temps de répondre aux spéculations. En quelques années, elle avait sauvé des humaines, des nécromanciennes abandonnées, sans le sou, désavouée. Cette petite ville dans les montagnes n’était pas visible par n’importe qui. Comme Gresit, il fallait avoir le désir profond de la trouver pour y parvenir. Mina était un exemple pour ces jeunes disciples, les plus jeunes qui étaient encore des enfants, la comparaient à une princesse. Les adolescentes venaient la consulter et l’admiraient.

« Why didn’t you get married ever ? Demanda une jeune amoureuse. - Sometimes the heart is a heavy burden, avait-elle répondu simplement. »

Miss Riddle n’avait pas changé physiquement, depuis son départ de la cité nécromancienne. Sa voix était toujours aussi douce, comme son regard. Sa beauté n’avait pas faibli non plus. Mais son aura manifestait davantage de sa puissance et imposait davantage, elle se limitait plus par crainte de représailles. Cependant, à l’instar de sa mère, Mara Riddle, à qui elle ressemblait énormément, elle dégageait une certaine mélancolie. Celle que Mara avait elle-même ressentit en revenant à Caer Oswin après le départ de Vaine Riddle. La douleur de l’être aimé qui ne faisait plus partie de notre vie.

« You never told me what happened, dit Maximus. »

L’héritier Riddle était assis sur un fauteuil, près de la grande cheminée où crépitait un feu. La lune était pleine et sa lumière reflétait dans les vitraux violets. Mina était assise sur le fauteuil d’à côté, le regard sur les flammes dansantes qui léchaient le bois, mais l’esprit ailleurs. Maximus entendu sa soeur poussait un soupir alors qu’elle sortait de ses pensées.

« I had a very short « intercourse » with Tristan, while we were trying to help Sin, avoua Mina. - An intercourse ? Demanda-t-il en arquant un sourcil, un peu surpris. Wasn’t he the love you wanted for life ? Your… soulmate ? - I guess I was wrong, souffla-t-elle. At least, nothing was the same when… he started to hunt you on behalf of his mother. How could I trust him ? He is, more than any other Caer Oswin’s citizen, an extension of the Queen’s eyes and hands. And then… »

Maximus pu sentir que la voix de Mina se brisa quand elle voulu poursuivre. Il tendit alors la main pour la poser sur celle de sa soeur, qui se trouvait sur l’accoudoir de son fauteuil. Cette main fine et pâle tremblait légèrement, froide comme de la porcelaine. Finalement les doigts de Mina se resserrèrent sur l’accoudoir alors qu’elle se redressait et qu’elle s’éclaircit la voix.

« You died. I didn’t know you didn’t, at that time. Mother kept it a secret until we left Caer Oswin for good. So, I was mourning the loss of my twin brother, the other half of myself… And Tristan asked me to be the witness of himself, breaking the law, to bring another necromancer back from the Void. He said that he wouldn’t be a good prince if he didn’t reunite this family and that she was a test that was full, so he couldn’t let this soul stay where she was. Now, when I think about it, I should have refused ! I could have been condemned for such an act, at least for complicity ! But I accepted, with one condition, that he wouldn’t enter in the Void ever again. I am sure he broke this promise… He couldn’t spend a day without going there, he was losing himself in it. Anyway… when he did bring back this soul… my heart shattered and I left. At this very moment, I wanted to leave him, it did hurt me deeply to see this family… while I lost so many loved ones… - Mina… - But he insisted, so I stayed… Then, mother and I left Caer Oswin, we took care of you and… we dream walked maybe once or two before I said stop. I left… Because it didn’t bring anything good to us… We couldn’t be together, I couldn’t trust him, I was suffering and it’s not the purpose of love. However, I can’t help myself but hoping that I could be still in his thoughts…When Minos come to visit us, I always hope he could have a word from him for me, but no… never… As if, nothing ever happened. I guess it is better that way… »

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therealcalicali · 5 years

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PREVIEW: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Chapter 8

CURRENTLY IN EDIT MODE

______________________

Elizabeth shot you an annoyed look. For whatever reason, bringing up her estranged husband seemed to trigger a response. And not a good one.

"Are you my keeper now?" She hissed.

"No, of course not." You replied as you placed the baby over your shoulder. "I was just trying to give you some advice.

"Well, sister, I get plenty from mother already. And since when did you become so concerned about my marriage anyway?"

You continued to pat Dahlia's back gently as you tried not to lose your temper. Elizabeth was being very rude, however, you held your tongue.

_____________________

Before you could reply, Prince Sven straightened up from the pillar he was leaning against. Like the gentleman he was, he strode to your side, clasping his hands behind him.

"With all due respect, Jarl Borg, it is not your place to question the Princess in her own land. Or have you forgotten that we are merely here as guests?"

"She is only a wife. It gives her no rights to hold court."

"Says whom?" Sven asked matter-of-factly.

"Says I. And I am sure that the other Jarls will feel the same."

"Oh? I had no clue that you gave orders in Kleifar as well as Kattegat. Has Ivar made you his Royal Proxy?"

The Jarl eyed Sven with barely concealed disdain. It was apparent that he had no answer for the question put to him. Most likely, he had expected to intimidate you by his title alone. However, he was taken by surprise when Prince Sven came to your aid.

______________________

When you stood and began walking toward Ivar, his brow raised.

"What are you doing?"

"I am taking the baby."

"No! My daughter stays with me." He practically growled. "I will send her along with the Wet-Nurse when it is time."

"But she is sleeping."

"So what? Now go! You are irritating me."

Despite his mood, you patted his shoulder which only made Ivar glare at you. As you left, he looked out the cell window, plotting his next moves once his trial was over.

___________________________

"Y/N, this opportunity may never come again." Hvitserk insisted. "Ivar's allies are dwindling as we speak. Perhaps the only people who still side with him are King Harald, Halfdan and Queen Astrid. If we play things correctly, he is finished."

"And what of me and my daughter?" You asked as you attempted to fish for information. "If he loses all, what happens to us?"

"I will ensure that you are taken care of. The two of you will live with me until it is safe for you to petition for a divorce. I doubt it will be denied after Ivar's fall from grace."

You feigned gullibility as you allowed Hvitserk to finish his thoughts. He made everything sound simple, however, you knew it was the furthest thing from the truth.

_________________________

Giving you a pleased smirk, Hvitserk leaned over and kissed your cheek. As he lingered there, you whispered that he shouldn’t show you affection in the open.

"Why?"

"Because, Hvitty." You replied as you looked around cautiously. "We have no idea who could be spying. There is too much uncertainty. The last thing we need is more tongues wagging."

"You are being paranoid. There is no one here." Hvitserk said. "And I doubt anyone followed us. I would know."

"Though you say that, I prefer to err on the side of caution." You steadfastly replied. "Besides, I think Ivar suspects something already. He…….he says things."

"Things like what?"

"You know how your brother is. He speaks in riddles. Ivar will never betray what is in his heart until he makes his move. By then, it is too late." You said as you tapped your heels into the horse's sides. "So you see, though I have missed you terribly, I cannot be so brazen. It would do neither of us any good."

________________________

Now, as he sat across the small table looking at Elizabeth, Ivar wanted every detail. If he was going to exact revenge, he had to know how deep the treachery ran. Not that he was keen on your sister for providing the information.

Quite the contrary. Ivar had come to hate her for relishing in his misery.

"Well, as I told you, I only found out from mother not long ago."

"I recall." Ivar concurred. "But if possible, tell me every detail as she told it. And please, do not leave anything out to spare my feelings."

_____________________

You couldn't believe what you had heard. As you stood with the small vial in your hand, your body trembled. Though you tried, you couldn't keep from doing so.

"I know it is alarming. The thought of killing someone." King Solmund said with understanding. "But imagine how many people you will save by ridding us of Ivar. The needs of the many, outweigh this one vicious act. The Gods will look down on you favorably."

To hell with his Gods. He was asking you to murder the father of your child. There were many things you hated about Ivar, but the thought of pouring poison into his ear sickened you.

"But I……….I…thought you are his ally."

"We are." Sven’s father replied. "Until the trial is over. Once he is found innocent…" He added before pointing to his two Jarl companions. "and all agreements are safe, him dying unexpectedly is ideal. You will likely inherit all his holdings and things will be peaceable. As they should be."

_____________________

"I think you may be right. We should have been at the town square long ago." The Queen admitted. "My man must have lost his way."

After shouting out of the window for him to halt the carriage, Astrid opened the door.

"Come Lizzy. Let us at least stretch our legs while he sorts things out."

As the two women exited, the stern looking driver also dismounted. While Queen Astrid and Elizabeth took in the fresh air of the forest, he removed a jagged dagger from its sheath.

"I really hope your servant figures things out quickly, your Majesty. I have a great deal to do in town."

"As do I." Astrid replied with a smirk.

While the ladies continued chatting, the carriage driver approached them from behind.

________________________

#ivar x reader #reader x ivar #Ivar I have something to tell you #ivar fanfic #ivar fic #ivars heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless #vikings #the vikings #fanfiction vikings #fan fiction vikings #ivar fanfiction

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fantasyandromancelover · 5 years

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The Tale of Tales Chapter 31

Lucy woke up really early the next morning. It was still dark out and the sun had not yet risen. She saw that while Erza was still sound asleep Natsu was awake also. He was sitting by a fire he had started staring at that golden slipper he always kept with him.

"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" She asked him.

"And what if I am?"

"You really think that you're actually going to find her?"

"I know I'm going to find her."

"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if she only came to that ball to have a fun time. Not seek out a husband or gain your admiration?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't want to be found and maybe she doesn't return my feelings. But I have to find her, I have to know her name, I have to tell her how I feel."

"Are you even sure that you love her? You don't even know her. You can't love someone you don't know."

"Why are you so against my love for her?"

"Because I don't think what you feel for her is real love. Pardon my boldness your highness but I think you're delusional. You need to forget this mystery dream girl and move on to a girl who actually exists."

"Oh now I see what's going on. You're jealous."

"What?!"

"Can't say I blame you for falling for me. I am a dashing prince."

"Ugh! You're more delusional than I thought. As if I would ever have feelings for an arrogant, conceited, spoiled little rich boy like you!"

"Hey you're no picnic either sweet heart! You're bossy, demanding, and difficult! I don't think I've ever met a more insufferable woman!"

"Insufferable?! How dare you!" She took some mud into her hands and flung it into his face. "Honestly how on Earth were you born a prince?! You have no manners, no humility, no respect, and no-"

But she was silenced by Natsu throwing mud straight back into her face.

"You had that coming doe eyes." He said.

She only threw more mud at him, soon the two were in an all mud slinging war that went on for hours and eventually their anger was forgotten and they ended up having fun. By the time sun rise had come they were both covered head to toe in mud and dirt. Before continuing with their journey they took separate turns bathing in the spring.

At last they reached the end of the astral line. At the end of it was a large oak tree that had no leaves and looked as if it was ready to wither away and die.

"So end of the line huh?" Natsu said.

"Levy must be around here somewhere." Lucy said.

She began to search around the tree for any indication that could lead her to Levy. She then spotted a marking on the tree that resembled a key hole. She leaned over and placed her fingers on to the mark, as soon as she touched it the gold key in her pocket started glowing. She pulled the key out and looked at the mark on the tree that looked like a key hole. She brought the end of the key toward the mark and to her surprise it went right through it. She stuck the key further in, turned it three times, and the tree opened like a door.

At once something flew out from inside and took the form of a petite but pretty lady with shimmering wings on her back. Her short blue hair was decorated with daisies and she wore a dress that appeared to made from gold and silver leaves. For a moment she stood perfectly still as if she was trying to make sure that she was actually here. She then turned to Lucy, gave her a big smile, and flew in to hug her.

"Oh Lucy look at you!" She cried cheerfully. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. My how you've grown, you're the image of your dear mother."

"So you're Levy? You're my fairy godmother?" Lucy asked.

"Yes and I can't thank you enough for freeing me. Oh how I've waited for this day. At last it's here. I'm finally free!...Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Now that I've been freed it's only a matter of time before it finds out."

"It? It who? Or what?"

"I'll explain later but right now we need to go somewhere it's eyes can't see. Hurry now!"

"Wait what about my friends?"

"Oh you didn't come alone?"

"Hi we're friends of hers." Natsu said.

"Excuse me Levy was it? What's going on? Why do you look so frightened?" Erza asked.

"I haven't the time to explain it now. All of you follow me quickly." Levy's wings started to flutter as she levitated off the ground. "Oh I've missed flying so much."

Lucy, Natsu, and Erza followed Levy as she flew toward a cave and inside was a tiny house.

"Alright now everyone in." Levy said.

"You want us to go in there?" Erza said skeptically.

"Yes."

"But it's so small." Lucy said.

"Of course, it makes it harder for that horrid thing to see it that way."

"But aren't we a little too big?" Natsu said. "I mean how are we supposed to get in?"

"Oh sorry! I forgot!" She stuck her hand in her dress pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and silver dust which she blew on to them, causing them to shrink and be transported into the tiny house. She then dropped some of the dust on to herself and came in after them. "There we go. I apologise for it being so snug in here, I normally don't have that many people in here."

The house was very small and it was loaded with mountains and mountains of books.

"There certainly are a lot of books in here." Erza observed.

"It's like you have your own library." Lucy said.

"I'm a bit of book worm." Levy said.

"A bit?" Natsu said.

"So Levy who or what was this it you were referring to?" Lucy asked her.

"The evil spirit in the mirror." Levy said. "It knows everything and it sees everything. There a very few things in this world that are unknown to it and very few places where it's eyes do not see."

"What exactly is this thing? And what does it want?"

"Years ago an evil spirit somehow managed to escape from the depths of hell and enter our world." Levy said. "Twisted, vile, and cruel it was. It's soul purpose was to spread chaos, misery, and despair wherever it went. My fellow fairies and I tried to send it back to hell but fairies can only do good magic so with the help of a group of wise men we were able to seal the spirit inside of a magic mirror. Unfortunately, though the spirit was trapped it still had it's evil powers and could use them to manipulate it's way to freedom."

"How?" Erza asked.

"Your aunt Minerva is a prime example Lucy. Queen Minerva did not always look as she does now. She started out as a hideous creature and her own father despised her with every fiber of his being. But her sister, your mother Layla saw past her repulsive appearance and loved her. They were inseparable those two, always together laughing and playing and Minerva despite looking the way she did was a sweet and caring girl."

"Are we talking about the same Minerva?" Natsu asked.

"Yes. Believe it or not she was once very kind and good."

"Why did she change?" Lucy said.

"It happened on your parents's wedding day. Originally your father had been arranged to marry Minerva, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and she was the daughter of a land owner. The marriage would have led to incredible wealth but your father was smitten with your mother's beauty and his infatuation turned to love so he married her instead. Minerva was devastated, in tears she fled into the forest where she stumbled on to the mirror. The mirror promised to make her the most beautiful woman in the world and it did but it came at an awful price. The mirror will grant you what you desire but once it's power touches you everything you see becomes cold and ugly and you only see the worst in people. As the years passed Minerva grew more beautiful but she also grew to resent and envy her sister, forgetting all the love and compassion Layla had given her. The mirror was slowly but surely darkening her heart, but then the kind and good King Hector married her and her envy was briefly silenced until that day."

"What day?"

"Seventeen years ago a child was born into the world, a child who would one day grow up to be more beautiful than even her. Seven years after the girl's birth, Minerva sensed that another was destined to surpass her and her jealousy was reawakened. She seeked out of forbidden book of dark magic and witchcraft which I was planning to destroy but she caught me, stole the book, and trapped me for ten years."

"What exactly is going to happen to her?"

"As her hatred and jealousy grows so does the mirror's control over her. Soon the spirit will be able to escape it's prison and take over her body, using it to once again cause destruction to our world."

"But it can be stopped right?" Natsu said.

"If the mirror is shattered by the only weapon that can destroy it then the spirit will be banished back to hell."

"Okay so what is this weapon?"

"I do not know it's exact name. No one does, all we know about it is that it's of ash and cinder on the outside but of the purest gold on the inside."

"What the hell does that mean?" Natsu asked.

"I don't know. It's a riddle that we've been trying to figure out for years but I do know this. The child is now a woman with beauty that far outshines Minerva and if she successfully kills her then that will complete the mirror's corruption. With each evil act she commits it brings her closer to becoming no more than the mirror's puppet and if she carries out that final act it will cement her end and our own as well."

"Who is this woman that she's trying to kill?" Erza asked.

"I don't know her by name, I only know that she has hair as blue rain, cheeks blush as the rose, and skin white as snow."

"Juvia!" Lucy gasped in realization.

"Huh?" Natsu said.

"It's Juvia! She's the one Minerva wants to kill!"

"The princess of Fiore? Are you sure?"

"Yes! Minerva's always been jealous of her! She's the only person she hates more than me! Oh my God we have to find her!"

"I've met her." Erza said. "I know where she is."

"Where is she?"

"Last time I saw her she said she was living in a cottage with three dwarfs."

"We have to get back and find her right away!"

#fairy tail #fairy tail au #fairy tales #brothers grimm #cinderella #snow white #little red riding hood #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #natsu x lucy #fairy tail nalu #nalu #erza scarlet #levy mcgarden #fanfiction #fanfic

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kuriquinn · 5 years

Text

An Inch of Gold [32/34]

Blanket Disclaimer

Author’s Note: Updating now because I have a headache and might not have the energy to do it at 9. As usual, unedited until I can get to it, and you can read the whole fic from the beginning on FFnet, Ao3 or wattpad.

Also, I’m not saying you should be familiar with my story Samsara for this chapter, but it will offer some perspective/Easter eggs.

When Sarada wakes, she is floating.

It takes longer than she would like to force her eyes open, and when she does she feels only confusion. The world around her is lit by a dim violet light, but everything beyond it is a black, overwhelming darkness.

Am I…am I dead…?

She remembers a knife and then falling, and then…nothing.

I must have hit the ground. I have to be dead.

Slowly, she sits up, frowning at the water surrounding her, rippling outward. Somehow, it doesn’t soak her skin or clothes, almost like it’s not really water but someone’s abstract concept of it. As she gets to her feet, it falls away from her, leaving no trace of it beyond the sensation of silken sheet sliding away.

The air suddenly feels heavy, and she tenses. Whirling around, she is shocked to see Teisōko standing beside her, also looking utterly unharmed.

No! She should be dead! I felt her die…!

The other girl looks as if she is as confused as Sarada, but it lasts less time.

“You!” she hisses, and lunges, eyes narrowed and palm flat for a blow to the throat.

Sarada braces her feet in the ankle length water, hoping she won’t slip, and prepares for the incoming blow. Which is why she is shocked as the other girl is suddenly stumbling into the water behind her with an ungainly splash.

Did she…miss? No, that’s not it. She went right through!

“What?” Sarada whispers, staring down at her hands. They seem solid enough to her, but…

“Fighting one another is useless,” a cool voice says, echoing within the vast expanse of distant black. “Your minds and souls are beyond your physical bodies.”

Sarada whips around to face the owner of the voice, and Teisōko jumps to her feet as well, as if expecting an attack. Neither of them is quiet expecting the sight before them.

A woman and a man stand before them, having appeared out of nowhere. The woman is petite, with grey eyes and dark skin, dressed in pale colours but for a blood red obi tied in the front. Sloe black hair is arranged in a complicated headpiece, and a pink cherry blossom kanzashi that look very similar to one that Sarada’s mother has.

Maybe my mind is compensating? Sarada wonders, but when she studies the man, she decides she would never have been able to imagine him.

Beside the woman, he is much taller, and unsmiling beneath dark, wild hair. Somehow, he looms like a shadow even though he wears all white. Six magatama border his robe, reminding her of giant versions of a Sharingan’s tomoe. And speaking of a Sharingan…

He has it! And it looks exactly like Papa’s!

“Who are you?” Teisōko demands, getting to her feet to face the strangers. Sarada would like to ask the same thing, but something stops her.

There’s something…about these two…

The man looks down his nose at Teisōko. “I was, I am, I will be the grasping, devouring shadow of despair.”

“I was, I am, I will be the given sacrifice to bring about hope,” the woman intones.

“We are the avatars of time and space, though the faces we have chosen are borrowed.”

“We have taken forms you can grasp so that we can speak, though it limits us.”

“We can no longer see the consequences of what it to come and can only offer counsel.”

“But that…” Sarada begins, “that doesn’t answer. Who are you?”

“Don’t you know, little one?” the woman asks her with a motherly smile. “Did your Papa never tell you our story?”

Sarada tenses, and a memory surfaces from so long ago she had forgotten until now, her father’s voice washing over her.

“…Indra was wounded in battle and used the last of his strength to bring himself far away from Asura and his father. He found himself lying on a shore in a distant land, weakened and unable to heal himself. It seemed, for a time, that he was meant to die.”

“Did he die, Papa?”

“No. He was found one day by a very young girl with a kind heart, who took pity on him.”

“What was her name?”

“…Shachi.”

Sarada’s eyes widen. “Then you’re…!”

“The progenitors of the Uchiha,” Teisōko says, her fists clenching. Rage and hatred spark in her eyes, but being insubstantial, there is nothing she can do about it.

Not that she could, anyway, Sarada thinks vaguely, staring up at the tall man with renewed unease. The stories about him are terrifying, and she can see why when he levels a cold glance at Teisōko.

“By your actions, you have destabilized time,” he says flatly. “It ought to have corrected itself, the way most time loops do, however your battle broke through many times and caused more damage than expected.”

“Everything is unravelling,” the female avatar—or, Shachi—laments. “All of time and space will soon cease to exist, if not for you two. The forces of Hope—"

“—and Despair.”

“I don’t understand,” Sarada says. It’s the second time they’ve used those words, giving them some reverence that she can’t parse.

“Every living creature has a destiny that contains infinite possibilities. Those have been all but erased now.”

“Your presence outside of your time frayed the web of time; travelling through so many, you might as well have cut the threads completely,” Indra continues. “You must both make a choice, which will determine the fate of this world and where you go from here.”

“You mean we’re not dead yet?” Sarada questions, something like hope flaring in her stomach.

“You are beyond the state of life or death,” Shachi tells her. “For now. But your choices may change that.”

“Choices?”

“Will you walk the Path of Needles, or the Path of Thorns?” Indra asks.

Teisōko sneers. “Is that meant to be a riddle?”

“These are the paths that remain to you both,” Shachi explains. “But know that even if you choose to walk the same path, your eventual fate will not necessarily be the same.”

“You may also abstain,” Indra says, “but then you will remain in this realm for eternity, never able to move on.” He frowns. “I do not recommend that option.”

Shachi’s expression is sad and she bows her head.

“This is nonsense,” Teisōko spits out. “I will not remain a prisoner here! Death or no, I intend to be free.” She takes a step forward, bearing her teeth at them. “I have suffered under too many needles in my life. A thorn’s pain is fleeting.”

Indra studies her. “Is that your choice?”

“Yes,” she says, resolute. “I will walk the Path of Thorns.”

“So be it,” Shachi says gravely.

Indra approaches Teisōko, his face unreadable, while she glares up at him. Then, he nods.

“You will gain what you desire,” he tells her. “The pain you have lived with for so long will be at an end.”

Then, he suddenly reaches out, and his hand goes right through her forehead. Unlike earlier, when Teisōko passed through Sarada harmlessly, his action brings with it pain. Teisōko’s eyes go wide and she screams, a shrill, agonized sounds that has Sarada clapping her hands over her ears.

Indra appears unmoved by her distress, because he only draws back after several long drawn out seconds, his movements unconcerned and languid. In his hand, he cups something gleaming, red and insubstantial. It looks a little like a Sharingan, but Sarada can’t be sure.

As soon as Indra steps back, Teisōko—empty-eyed and limp—falls to her knees. An instant later, she vanishes completely.

“What just happened?!” Sarada demands. She doesn’t care about the other woman—she’s been trying the entire day to kill her—but her fate suggests Sarada’s future might not fare much better.

“She went on,” Shachi tells her gravely.

“Went on? Where is ‘went on’?”

“This we cannot say,” Indra tells her, studying his hand; whatever he took from Teisōko gleams from within his fingers. “Our knowledge is limited by these forms.”

“Her suffering was momentary,” Shachi tells her. “Will you choose the same?”

Chills reverberate up Sarada’s spine, and she takes a step back.

Choose the same? And end up…just disappearing?

The avatars are watching her expectantly, and she swallows nervously. If only she could have more time to think about it. Of course, she could always choose to stay here, then she will have an eternity of time to think.

“Can you…can you give me a hint about my choices?” she asks tentatively.

Shachi looks almost amused. “There is not much that we can see. These forms are limited.”

“But is there’s anything you can tell me?”

“The other one was not given a choice,” Indra points out.

“The other one did not think to ask,” Shachi replies serenely. “Impulsive decisions are a quality the Uchiha have always had. Too often it has been the source of their undoing.”

This time something like guilt flashes across Indra’s face, but it happens so fast that Sarada isn’t sure if that’s what she actually saw.

“Hn.” The man folds his arms, but he doesn’t argue. Then he closes his eyes, and concentrates. After a beat, he says, “The timeline remains clouded. I see stone faces sundered and only the Wielder of the Pure Eye standing between salvation and the end of an era.”

“Two pillars crumble,” Shachi adds. “Sun and Moon vanish, and the Earth is shrouded in darkness.”

Sarada’s mouth goes dry.

That didn’t answer my question at all! It’s just vague words and ambiguous forecasting!

“You’re not going to tell me which path leads to all that, I’m guessing?” she manages with a pained smile.

“We do not know,” Shachi says. “We are—”

“Limited, I know,” Sarada sighs. She thinks it might have been better not to have gotten that hint. At least she would have felt less pressure.

Alright, so…Path of Needles or Path of Thorns…

As painful as Teisoko’s end looked, it might be a relief after everything Sarada has gone through today. It’s a tempting thought, to just be finished. As Teisōko said, a prick of a thorn is nothing.

Then again, the avatars said she might not end up with the same fate as Teisōko even if she chose the same option. What if her fate is destined to be worse? What if instead of ‘going on’, she’s just erased from everything completely? What if ‘going on’ means being erased from everything?

And beyond that—though she’s exhausted to her very soul, her decision cannot just be about her. It concerns time. Either everything will become completely unravelled and vanish, or there’s something bad coming in the future.

Assuming their predictions are literal and not just speculation, Sarada muses. They said themselves they can’t see everything. That could be part of a larger picture. Think! Path of Needles or Path of Thorns!

Neither sound like pleasant options. It’s natural to think only of the damage they might both do, but what if she considers other qualities?

Thorns protect, Sarada thinks. They keep flowers from being eaten or destroyed. And needles…well, needles can be used as weapons. So, one of them defends, the other attacks? No. Wait, needles have another function!

She is the daughter of a medic, after all, and has seen first hand the good that needles can do. They are used to give people life-saving cures, to transfer blood or chakra, to mend flesh as well as fabric.

Like maybe…the fabric of time? Sarada wonders. It can’t be that easy!

She wants nothing more than to heal the timeline from the damage that’s been caused, and it’s tempting to choose the option that is in line with the metaphor. But then again…

Needles are as bad as thorns, because once they’ve punched a hole in something, the hole stays there. At least in terms of fabric. If it’s skin, I suppose the skin heals over. But then, the same can be said for a wound from thorns—

“Ugh!”

Her eyes clench shut, and her hands ball into fists, frustration and fear surging through her.

With every further thought, she gets drawn further into a study of riddle and wordplay. Trying to see beyond the meaning of the two words is paralysing her here. Perhaps she is destined to stay her forever after all…

No! Sarada decides, her eyes snapping open. No, I will not stay here! If there’s even a chance of making sure Mama and Papa, and their past selves, and everyone have a future, I have to make a choice.

It seems she is going to have to take a page out of Boruto’s book and just go with instinct.

“Alright,” she says, squaring her shoulders and taking a step forward. She fixes Indra with a defiant look, not quite as fierce as Teisoko’s, but still somewhat insolent. “I’ve made my choice.”

“Speak it, then.”

“I choose—”

ナルト

There is nothing but white in Sarada’s field of vision, and a splitting pain in her forehead. Someone’s voice—someone she should recognise—echoes in her mind.

You walk with gods, little one. Mind your step.

Awareness returns to her then, the feel of air rushing past her and her eyes spring open. She stares up in dismay at the cliff that is getting steadily further away from her, her right hand clawing at it in futile desperation.

Her body begins to flip in the air, and she’s already been here before, hasn’t she? Only this time, her reactions are dulled from the lingering unconsciousness, and the ground is getting closer and closer.

“Sarada!”

Almost the instant she hears her name, something seizes her hand in a strong hold.

Blinking up in shock, she stares at the swirling portal in front of her, the violet chakra mingling with orange and green fire. She’s hanging below the rip in the sky and can’t see beyond the portal, but the hand holding hers is unquestionably her father’s.

“Papa!” she calls in amazement and relief.

“You have to…haul yourself up,” he shouts to her, and she hears a strain in his voice. It’s as if he is in great pain. “We’re already using…everything we have…to keep the portal open.”

Her eyes flick to the swirling flame, and notes with concern that it seems to pulsate, growing smaller one minute, before widening again. Each time it happens, the diameter shrinks.

“I’ll…I’ll try!” Sarada says, although even as she does, she feels weakness disperse over her entire body. She’s already put her body through so much today, she doesn’t know if she has the strength for this. With her other arm hanging uselessly by her side, and the kunai still buried in her gut, pulling herself up the length of his arm seems impossible.

“Hold on, Sarada!” she hears Boruto yell from somewhere beyond the rushing sound of the portal.

A half-second later, his father’s past-self adds, “Come on, Sarada! You can do it!”

“Yeah, Sarada! Come on!” the past Sakura calls.

“Don’t you dare give up!”

Her head snaps upward at the order from the young Sasuke Uchiha—the repressed, stubborn boy who has been avoiding acknowledging any connection to her all day—and resolve floods through her.

I won’t give up!

Gritting her teeth, she strains upward, throwing her energy into the most difficult one-handed pull-up ever. Her joints scream, and her bones shake, and she concentrates all of her chakra to her hand. She has to be careful, not wanting to accidentally shatter the bones in her father’s arm or disintegrate her own muscles from the force.

There’s no time to inch her way up with her fingers and so, with a final wordless scream, she swings herself until she can get the momentum to throw herself up.

Flying upward, she has a vague sense of colours and shapes before her, coalescing into familiar figures.

Papa with his arm out to her, Mama and Uncle Naruto on either side of him, their Byakugō and Senjutsu respectively activated, and their hands on his shoulders. In the background, their past selves and Sarada’s team watch anxiously.

The portal is closing faster now, and Sarada lingers for a moment in the air, weightless and completely conscious that if she doesn’t grab hold of her father’s upper arm at just the right moment, she’s done for—a stain on the ground, left to rot somewhere in the past.

She reaches out—

And misses.

Sarada inhales in disbelieving desperation, sensing the exact moment when her body begins to shift from its upward current to the pressure of gravity. There are cries of disbelief from her loved ones—

And then, out of nowhere, two arms thrust through the portal and wrap around her—several times over.

I know these arms! Sarada thinks with giddy relief, eyes snapping through the portal to stare at her teammate.

Sarada doesn’t have long to take notice of him—expression of concentration on his face, and a strange blue chakra crackling over the surface of his skin—before she is being pulled forward into the swirling, violet vortex.

She is back in the dank underground cavern again.

“Now!” she hears Uncle Naruto yell, and then her mother gives a snarl of effort.

The portal snaps shut behind Sarada just as she clears the threshold, slicing neatly through the heel of her sandal. She is dizzy and has the confusing sense of falling into a heap of bodies—Boruto is shouting her name, Mitsuki’s arms retract—and then suddenly Aunt Hinata calls out, “It’s coming!”

Sarada becomes aware of a growing roar, and a suffocating wave of energy moving forward.

Before she can regain her wits, someone—Konohamaru—grabs a hold of her. The past versions of Team 7 are urging their future selves to their feet, Kakashi ushers Boruto and Mitsuki back, and Papa is opening another portal just behind them. A vast sea of sand appears beyond the barrier, and he snaps, “Everyone, go!”

Genin and jōnin, past and present, make a beeline for the opening. Carried carefully by her instructor, she stares in wide-eyed horror over his shoulder as an explosion of golden chakra barrels toward them.

Only in the instant just before it hits them does the portal snap closed.

Silence hangs over them, feeling abrupt and uncomfortable in the wake of the roaring noise, like a thread suddenly snapped off in the middle. It lingers for several moments, like a breath being held in at the highest point of its inhalation.

Sands swirls around them, an endless desert stretching out upon every horizon.

Then the reality of things sets in.

“Phew!” Uncle Naruto exhales, falling to one knee.

Papa staggers backward, looking like he’s about to pass out, but Mama catches hold of him, her arm scooped around his shoulders. Both of them have blood on their faces, she notices with concern, but despite radiating exhaustion, there’s an instant of that nameless something passing through them.

Warmth floods through her.

They’re okay. Everyone’s okay.

On the heels of that relief, awareness of her body returns to her. Along with the searing pain in her abdomen. She coughs then, blood slipping over her lips, and the world tilts to on side.

“Sarada!” Konohamaru sets her down on the ground. Instantly Mama is by her side, a little slower than normal, a little paler; Papa also tries to stagger toward her, but his legs give out beneath him. Boruto and Mitsuki try approach, but Kakashi and Aunt Hinata hold them and her parents past squad back.

A warm hand rests on Sarada’s front, and the tingling sensation of her mother’s healing chakra radiates through her. Mama is straining more than usual, as if eking out every last shred of healing chakra. Sarada can barely see the diamond-shaped marking on her forehead anhymore.

“Mama…don’t worry about me…” she mumbles nonsensically, but her mother just mutter something under her breath as she carefully removes the kunai.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, and your chakra is completely tapped out,” she tells her in a quiet, soothing voice. “But you’ll be alright.” She looks up at Papa. “She’ll be alright.”

Loud cheering breaks out then; squinting beyond her mother’s body, Sarada watches Boruto and the young Naruto high-five each other.

“She did it! We did it!”

They clap each other on the back, and young Sakura squeals with glee and hugs young Sasuke around the neck, while he gasps for breath. He doesn’t push her away though, Sarada notices. Aunt Hinata hurries over to Uncle Naruto, and he kisses her in front of everyone, earning a raised eyebrow from Kakashi and an embarrassed chuckle from Konohamaru.

Then Sarada, the once mortal wound in her belly, still tender but mostly healed, is pulled up and into Mama’s arms. Relieved and exhausted, tears gathering in her eyes, and Sarada presses her face into her mother’s soft curves. Papa finally manages to get to them and falls into a sitting position beside them, breathing hard. His eyes remain rivetted on Sarada, however, like he’s evaluating every bruise and scratch that hasn’t yet been healed.

“Your arm,” he says, a statement and a question.

She shrugs her left shoulder, barely feeling that movement anywhere below her elbow. She knows she won’t get anymore use out of it until Mama has the strength back to fix it. “Now we match.”

His mouth quirks a bit upward at that.

“—did it! We did it! We did i—wait,” Boruto cuts off, and then frowns. “We did do it, right? We won’t stop existing when we portal back to our own times?”

“Will we even be able to get back to our times?” young Naruto wants to know, looking suddenly worried.

“Well, there’s one way to check,” Kakashi says.

He bites into his thumb, pulling out a scroll with the other, and pressing it to the ground. “Kuchioyse no jutsu!”

There’s an explosion of dust, and when it clears, Pakkun the Ninja Hound sits in front of them.

He squints up at Kakashi. “Well, boss, this looks…um…slightly better than where you were before.” His eyes linger on the barren wasteland. “Not much better, though.”

“Of course!” Sakura cries. “They’re linked in our present! So, Pakkun should be able to get us back to our time, which means it’s still there!”

“And once he gets his second wind, Sasuke can bring us back to where we belong,” Uncle Naruto says as he and Aunt Hinata stand up. Boruto has thrown himself at his mother, wrapping an arm around her waist, and then moving aside so that she can offer Mitsuki a hug as well. Uncle Naruto puts a hand on either boy’s head.

“Honestly, Sarada, how many times am I going to have to fix your arms today,” Mama scolds lightly, but there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Hopefully no more,” she replies gamely, and grins up at her teammates. “Mitsuki…you saved me.”

“Well, you and Boruto and Konohamaru-sensei had an eventful day,” he replies mildly. “I felt it was my turn.”

“Don’t act like it’s nothing!” Boruto guffaws.

“And here I thought it was only Boruto you would risk your life for,” Sarada teases, survival and adrenaline making her giddy.

“Well, you are one of my teammates.”

“Such a fine display of comradery,” Konohamaru murmurs, eyes teary and a fist clenched. “It makes your sensei proud.”

“What happened before we found you?” Papa wants to know, and it’s obvious he’s asking about Teisōko, and whether she’s still wandering around somewhere in the past.

Everyone, including the dog, is watching her now with expectation.

With the adults recovering themselves, there’s not much else to do but tell them. Slowly, and pausing every now and then to allow for outraged exclamations or questions, she explains about following Teisōko through different time periods, and their long battle. All the while, the adults fan out amongst one another, checking wounds and healing one another—or at least trying to.

Mama appears to be tapped out after whatever she did earlier, and fixing Sarada as well as she could, but between Aunt Hinata and Uncle Kakashi’s basic healing abilities, they help stabilize her. Colour returns to her face, but the Byakugo doesn’t, and Sarada thinks Mama might be a little weak for the next few days.

Sarada finally ends her story with her last desperate vault towards Teisōko, before trailing off. Her mind feels like it’s garbled somehow, a snarl in a thread.

“That’s the last thing I remember,” she says, frowning. She has the distinct feeling that time passed between her last attack on Teisoko and being rescued from her fall off the cliff but can’t call it up despite every effort.

Mama squints at her. “Well, you definitely have a concussion. That could explain you blacking out for a bit. It will be a while before I can check for sure, but we should be safe if we treat it as that.”

“You must have done something badass,” Boruto says, punching his fist in the air. “You came back, but that Teisōko chick didn’t.”

“That might not be a good thing,” Mitsuki points out. “If she’s somewhere in the past, she could still cause damage.”

“No, she’s dead,” Sarada says, earning surprised looks. “I don’t…I don’t remember how, but I’m sure she is.”

“I bet you took her out, huh?” young Naruto says. “You gave her the old one-two, right?”

He mimes boxing motions, and Boruto shoots him a disparaging look. “You’re so lame.”

“Is it possible she’s been placed under a genjutsu?” Sakura wants to know, inching a little closer to the Uchiha family.

Papa gets up, shaking his head at Mama when she makes a motion to help him, and studies Sarada. “If there is, it’s not one that I can sense. Most likely my wife is right—it’s a concussion.”

Sakura gasps a little, gazing up at Papa with shining eyes.

“Did you hear that?” she whispers to Sasuke, whose face has gone furiously red. “He said ‘my wife’.”

“Tch.”

“Speaking of genjutsu, though,” Papa says, eyes focussing on the two genin in front of him, showing no sign of having noticed the interaction, “if it wasn’t, it means someone else might have gotten involved in matters.”

He takes a few steps toward the past version of him and his wife, until he is gazing down at Sakura. Sasuke glares at his adult self, and Sarada gets the distinct impression he doesn’t like his future self. Papa either doesn’t notice the look, or doesn’t care, because his attention is on Sakura.

“When I was trapped in the time barrier, I saw how Jikken was defeated. That was no ordinary crow. There was no time to speak of it before, but…there is something I need to know.”

Sakura’s eyes widen at being addressed so seriously by any version of Sasuke, and then when he kneels down in front of her so that they are at eye-level, her face goes as red as her tunic and her eyes flick away from his.

“I…I…”

“If you’ll allow it,” he adds. “Please.”

At which point, Sakura promptly faints.

As her teammates hurry to catch her before she hits the ground, Mama sighs. “Darling, it’s really not fair of you to do that...”

Papa has the decency to look confused.

つづく

Yeah, I totally pulled a Kishimoto and brought in the Mysterious Other Worldly Figure Meeting. That happened. And yet another Uchiha is undone by their impulsive, ask-no-questions personality...arrogance has a cost :P

And for those of you freaking out that the scene cut off just before Sarada made her choice...that’s done on purpose. The two choices she is given lead to two story branches, the canonverse (Path of Thorns) which will follow the Boruto: Next Generations canon, and my headcanon verse (Path of Needles). I might write an introduction to both of those where you actually get to see the choice, but for this fic, I left it ambiguous so the reader could decide which path she chose.

(Full list/chronology of both series will be updated on 'Series Chronologie’ page, as I'm in the process of making sure all the stories that should be there are there.)

Yosh! One more chapter and an epilogue!

栗

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beyondmistland · 6 years

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Westerosi Worldbuilding Wednesday: Hidden History of Dorne: Lost Lore (Part II)

Ø Letter #8: The Daynes tried to seize Oldtown because its harbor was superior to theirs. The Fowlers tried to seize Starpike and Horn Hill, which would give them access to the Cockleswent. The Yronwoods tried to seize all of Dorne. (They were attacked by House Dayne, House Fowler, House Dryland, House Condor, House Drinkwater, House Wyl, and the High King of the Greenblood*.) (*The first time they tried to do this.) The Yronwoods tried to conquer the Dornish Marches, which would give them access to the river Slayne. (They were aided by the Vulture Kings of House Condor.) (They were opposed by the Vulture Kings of House Condor.)

Ø Letter #9: The Kingdom of the Western Marches was brought down by Yronwood aggression and infighting.

Ø Letter #10: House Yronwood was founded by an adventurer who claimed to be half-divine. That did not save him from Vermithrax's wrath*. His son searched for the Old Man of the Mountain. Together they slew Vermithrax. The bones were used to build a throne**. It was known as the Wyrmbone Chair. (*Vermithrax was the last dragon in Westeros.) (*He stole from the dragon's treasure horde.) (**The bones were gilded.) (**He was offered the dragon's heart. He refused it***.) (***"There is power in dragon's blood. Dangerous power.")

Ø Letter #11: House Wyl was the Bloodroyal's first major vassal. (Edmund IV was the last of the Adder Kings.) (He was called by his enemies Black Edmund.) (His mother was the warrior-maid, Wylla of Wyl.)

Ø Letter #12: House Greenblood was brought down by an alliance between House Shell, House Shore, House Wade, House Briar, House Brook, House Bay, House Brownhill, House Holt, House Hull, and House Lake. (House Greenblood was brought down because of its many cruel deeds.) (They ruled a third of Dorne.) (They owned the only dam.) (When they fell from power it was destroyed.) (The riverine houses banned hereditary succession.) (It took two thousand years for the riverine realm to collapse.) (That same year House Yronwood achieved an amazing victory at the Godspring*.) (*This made them the most powerful house in Dorne.) (*House Drinkwater became the Bloodroyal's second major vassal.)

Ø Letter #13: The riverine realm collapsed due to a disputed election. (It was decided by a single vote.) (The single vote belonged to a simpleton.) (House Yronwood funneled gold and supplies to whichever side looked to be losing.) (They then tried to conquer the riverine realm. House Fowler allied with House Dayne. House Dayne betrayed House Fowler*. House Fowler allied with House Manwoody, House Dryland, House Shell, and House Wade. House Yronwood allied with House Lake, House Briar, House Brook, and House Blackmont. House Gargalen formed a third alliance with House Brownhill, House Bay, House Dalt, House Shore, and House Ladybright. House Condor attacked House Wyl. High Hermitage betrayed Starfall. House Dryland betrayed House Fowler by joining Salt Shore's alliance. House Blackmont betrayed House Yronwood**. Garth V invaded Dorne. Slavers from the Stepstones sailed up the Greenblood. Yronwood was besieged by slavers out of the Broken Arm. Vulture's Roost was sacked by Stormlanders***.) (The war ended with no border changes****.) (*House Yronwood agreed to fund a ruinous scheme to divert the Torrentine.) (**The order of Deinochys I.) (***Vulture's Roost was rebuilt*****.) (****This time closer to Blackmont.) (****House Holt was wiped out******.) (****House Hull was wiped out******.) (****House Bay was wiped out******.) (******Their lands were taken up by House Wade.) (******Their lands were taken up by House Shell.) (******Their lands were taken up by House Ladybright.)

Ø Letter #14: The title of "high king" fell out of use once the riverine realm collapsed.

Ø Letter #15: House Yronwood's greatest champion was undoubtedly Yoren V. A boy of rare genius he unified almost all of Dorne. A few houses were won by grants of land, water, or silver*. Some were brought together through marriage or treaty**. Still more by conquest***. By the age of twenty, he ruled half of Dorne. By the age of two and twenty, he ruled two-thirds of it. By the age of five and twenty, four-fifths. At the age of six and twenty his luck ran out. Four families**** still defied him: House Martell. House Santagar. House Dalt. House Toland. They were outnumbered six to one. Yoren V was expelled from the Faith by the new High Septon*****. Gyles IX allied with House Caron, House Swann, House Selmy, and House Dondarrion. House Allyrion abandoned his cause. He was betrayed by House Dryland. Some stayed loyal: House Condor. House Blackmont. House Dayne. House Manwoody. House Jordayne. House Qorgyle. House Wells. House Drinkwater. House Wyl. Together they could field thirty thousand men. The alliance against them could muster forty-five thousand men. Thus, Yoren V was forced to make his most difficult decision yet: He could complete his conquest. He could save Dorne. He could not do both. "A true king defends his people" Yoren V told his war council three days later. "Even if they refuse to acknowledge him" asked the leader of the Moon Eaters. "Yes" replied the young hero, a single tear falling from his eye. Battle was joined at Summerfield and though Yoren V died so did Gyles IX******. (*Petty lords. Landed knights.) (**He wooed Starfall's queen.) (**He had seven sisters.) (**He put an end to the quarrel between House Condor and House Blackmont.) (**His honeyed tongue won House Yronwood the allegiance of many clansmen.) (***At the Battle of the First Alliance, he defeated House Fowler and House Manwoody.) (***At the Battle of the Second Alliance, he defeated House Uller and House Dryland.) (***At the Battle of the Third Alliance, he defeated House Allyrion and House Vaith.) (***He stormed Salt Shore and the Tor.) (***He put down two rebellions.) (***He survived a dozen assassination attempts.) (***He sacked Stonehelm and burned Blackhaven.) (****House Ladybright was ruled by a newborn child.) (****They were known as "the Dauntless Few".) (*****He accidently ordered his men to kill a Septon.) (******Ten thousand men died that day. Twice that many were wounded.)

Ø Letter #16: The King of Many Colors was under attack*. He hired sellswords from the mainland to defend his holdings. They turned on him. His wife's kin were outraged. The sellswords appealed to Yronwood and Storm's End for protection. Archibald I and Gowen V both responded. This led to war between House Yronwood and House Durrandon**. When Gowen V died, his favorite daughter seized the throne. Once her little brother reached the age of sixteen, she abdicated. (*He ruled a dozen islands.) (*His capital was known as the Arkenstone.) (*The Sea of Dorne was full of slavers.) (**Over time, half of Dorne was dragged into it***.) (**It took a hundred years for the war to end.) (**The Wyrmbone Chair was destroyed during the Second Siege of Yronwood.) (**Singers dubbed it the Black Grudge.) (**Six Storm Kings were killed***.) (***The Reach was dragged into it as well.) (***Gowen V. Steffon VI. Robar II. Boremund V. Davos III. Joffrey V.)

Ø Letter #17: Yorick I won the allegiance of House Jordayne, House Allyrion, and House Qorgyle. (He placed satraps in each of his major vassals' holdings.) (Satraps were charged with dispensing justice and aiding the people with local issues*.) (*Repairing canals and ditches along the Greenblood. Building watchtowers in the Boneway. Fortifying wells throughout Dorne.) (As Yorick I grew older his heir was gradually given more rights and responsibilities**.) (**His heir was named co-king.) (**One of his major duties was to hear petitions concerning the seven satraps.) (**One of his major duties was to confirm the accuracy of the annual census.) (Yorick I grew pious as he aged***.) (***He sponsored a dozen translations of The Seven-Pointed Star.) (***He built the Royal Sept****.) (****He was inspired by his heir's prophetic dream.) (He won the allegiance of House Jordayne by solving an ancient riddle. He won the allegiance of House Qorgyle by dicing with Quentyn III*****. He won the allegiance of House Allyrion by reciting all seven of Hugor's Parables.) (*****Some say the Bloodroyal cheated.) (As a prince, he escaped from House Dryland's dungeon.) (He deposed his half-sister, Lilith Sand.) (Yorick I was married to a member of House Wyl.) (He had four sisters. They were wed to House Jordayne, House Allyrion, House Qorgyle, and House Martell.) (His heir was wed to a cousin.) (His second son****** married Uly Drinkwater.) (******He was charged with guarding caravans.) (******He was named Protector of Dorne.) (******He was named co-king by his brother*******.) (*******This tradition was ended by Yorick II's predecessor, Edgar (IX) the Egregious.)

As always, share, comment, and critique.

#hidden history #asoiaf #worldbuilding #dorne #house yronwood #lost lore #Westerosi Worldbuilding Wednesday

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ink-splotch · 6 years

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Have you ever written about all the little moments that Ron realized he was falling in love with Hermione? Love your writing!

Probably the closest I’ve come to that is this excerpt from my “Ron as the Chosen One” fic (which I love quite a lot– Ron’s not any more or less loyal, tetchy, insecure, or brilliant as the Boy Who Lived and the youngest boy of the seven Weasley orphans than he was as Harry Potter’s sidekick. And he is a delight to write.).

This is Ron’s version of that bit in the seventh book, the bit in the Great Hall, and then the Stone in the forest, the walking out to die, and what came after– with Dumbledore and the train station. But for Ron it’s not Dumbledore and the train station, and it, among other things, ends up being about Hermione.

Er, warnings for spoilers about who I decided to kill v. not kill to match it up with a different protagonist’s emotional journey.

Ron did not see Bill go down. He wasn’t sure who did, or how it happened, or when– while Harry was racing up the stairs to find the diadem? While Ron was hissing open the passage to the Chamber? While he was kissing Hermione in an ankle-deep puddle of slimy water and dropped basilisk fangs?

Ron didn’t see Bill go down, he just stepped into the Great Hall and found him there, laid out and peaceful.

It had always been easy to pick his family out of a crowd– the hair, the sort of volume that Fred and George and Ginny had always carried with them, Charlie’s big friendly smile. It was easy to pick his family out of this crowd– the hair, the hands grasping hands grasping shoulders grasping elbows, the way George cried quiet and hard and familiarly.

Ron thought dully, At least this time we’ll have something to bury.

He stepped forward, past rushing young soldiers and past the tired teachers who watched their students go by, breathless, desperate. His family– and there was Fleur, laid out beside Bill, their hands almost touching. Her hair was long and mussed from the fight, the fall. Her face was pale. Ron tried to take another step forward.

Closer, and he could see them better. Closer, and he could ask how, and when, and why. Closer, and he could forget how to stand up at all.

A hand on his elbow stopped him in tracks. It was easy. He wasn’t sure he was touching the ground, except everything also felt so heavy, pulling his wrists down and down. He turned and Hermione was standing there.

Fred was gone, and now Bill was dead, and Fleur, and Hermione was standing there. Her hair was untamed, as it had been every day except for a ball once upon a time. She had put her wand away.

She had put her wand away and she was crying, and he always forgot how brave that looked on her. Hermione was crying, nose snotty and cheeks shiny, and she was going to save the world, this girl. She already had, and she was going to keep on doing it– waving petitions in peoples’ faces, and pulling things out of her magic bag like Mary Poppins, and never giving up, not even when things were impossible, not even on him.

When she reached out, Ron folded in, burying his face in her hair and crying until he stopped. Then he pulled back and scrubbed at dirty cheeks. He still had his wand fisted in his other hand. “We have work to do,” he said. “C'mon, let’s–” He scrubbed at his eyes with his fist again. “Let’s find Harry.”

Voldemort had already given his ultimatum– the Boy Who Lived, for all of you. Pansy had been all for it, and then Ron had let Hogwarts defend him.

Ron remembered Ginny’s dark robes and bright hair, lying on the Chamber floor, discarded like so much refuse. Tom Riddle had been young, translucent, and he had smirked over that barely breathing body, knowing exactly who would come for her.

Bill had cleaned all the picture frames hanging around the Burrow. He had hung up new ones, from the years spent bouncing from house to house, but he had kept up all their old ones. Their parents had danced above the mantle, Molly in gingham, and Arthur in a tux that didn’t fix him. They had held hands, beamed, and waved in the polaroid tacked up in the kitchen beside Bill’s postcards. Ron had heard their last words, echoing in his skull, dredged up by nightmares. He couldn’t even remember seeing the way they looked, fallen, the shape of their cooling bodies on the nursery room floor.

Which room had been the nursery, even? Which– Bill would know, but Bill was dead. Bill was another body strewn between Ron and the end of this. Charlie would know, or Percy, maybe, but Ron wasn’t going to have a chance to ask them.

George had stopped crying, mostly, talking quietly to Ginny. Charlie was laying wards down and down around the Hall with McGonagall. Harry and Hermione were with Neville, leaning over the Marauder’s Map rolled out over a bench at the Hufflepuff table, making battle plans. Ron went out through a side door and headed toward the Forest.

The trees were tall. The wind was cold. There were things that lived out here, spiders and nightmares, but he knew where he was going. If he was frightened, it didn’t matter.

Ron turned the Stone three times in his hand. Harry had the Cloak, and Hermione had won rights to the Elder Wand, disarming Draco in a skirmish– but Dumbledore had left Ron the Stone. He turned it three times and his ghosts stepped into view.

“Ron,” Molly Weasley said, squeezing insubstantial hands together, and Ron looked at her standing there. She was plump and short, with flushed cheeks and a wand shoved through her bunned-up hair. He had seen her in a dozen pictures, beaming and scolding and napping, and he wasn’t sure if this felt worse because it was just another picture, or because it wasn’t.

“Hi, Mum,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Molly said hotly, like she was Percy in a temper, and Ron almost smiled. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

Her hair– Arthur’s, Bill’s, Fred’s– it should have been red, but it was a listless silver. He could see the trees through them, the drooping pine needles and whispering leaves. Ginny could always tell Fred and George apart, but Ron never could– except that now Fred looked so young. George had been growing and growing, outliving him, and he would go on outgrowing him forever.

“He’s alright,” said Fred. “Isn’t he?” And Ron nodded, because he was bad at lying aloud.

“Take care of Art,” said Bill. The earring Fleur had talked him into getting glittered in his earlobe, the brightest thing in eyesight. “You will take care of him, won’t you?”

“You named him after me?” said Arthur. “Oh goodness. Dear,” he said, patting at Molly’s hand. “We have a grandchild.”

“We’ll take care of him,” said Ron. “He’s got so much family,” he said and his voice broke. “They’ll be there.”

“Chin up,” said Fred, a little wetly. “You’ve got work to do, little brother.”

“We love you,” said Bill. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Ron knew how to care more about what he needed to do than what he wanted. He dropped the Stone, round and grey and anonymous, to the Forest floor and he moved on.

When he reached the clearing, Ron did raise his wand. There was no old friend of his mother’s to tell him about the Horcruxes, about the way Dumbledore had been raising and raising him to die. But Ron had walked out into the Forest to die for his friends, his family, and that was enough for the magic. He raised his wand because if he could take out a few of them before he went, all the better.

Ron shot out an Avada Kedavra with all he had in him, but Voldemort’s hit first, and the Boy Who Lived fell down dead.

When Ron opened his eyes, the clearing was empty. The trees, which had been towering and grasping and dark, were peaceful. The Death Eaters were gone, Hagrid, flushed and sobbing, was gone. Starlight dripped down through the leaves. The shadows of the Forest circled round and round him, calm, all-encompassing. There was something twisted and bloody, tucked in the curve of some old roots across the leaf-strewn ground.

A Killing Curse must kill something, said a voice. But there were two lives in you. That is a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul.

Wind ran through the branches and it wasn’t cold. “This is a weird dream,” said Ron. “Am I dead?”

Not yet.

He blinked and he was standing in Ginny’s shed. It was all spare parts and clutter. The door of the Ford Anglia was unlatched, hanging open.

You do not have to stay, said the voice, and Ron thought about that. He thought about what he wanted.

He closed his eyes and the white queen stood over Harry, crumpled on the cold chessboard, eleven years old.

Ron opened his eyes and it was summer behind the Burrow. Ginny was balancing a box of tools on the edge of the Ford’s open hood, looking inside. He was fifteen, a Triwizard champion. She was thirteen, bare years away from the cold sludgy water of the Chamber floor. She startled at the noise of his step behind her and the tool box fell, shining wrenches going bouncing and banging all over the dirty floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. The sound reverberated through his skull, clashing and clinging, metal on metal on wood. His heart beat in his ears.

Ron wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He was done losing brothers. He was done watching Hermione cry. He didn’t want to see that ever again. Hermione looked so brave, even when she cried, especially when she cried, and he wanted to run away to some place where no one had to be brave.

What did he want? Ginny was fierce and terrible, but she was so scared when there was no one looking, and so Ron didn’t look. Harry had hung, bloated, in the cold water under the Lake, and it had been a game, just a game, Ron knew how to play games. George had cried out, Ron had reached out, when Fred fell softly backward through that archway into whispering veils. Ron had reached out, and now he could catch him, catch up to a fate he’d been chasing for years.

You do not have to stay.

But Hermione was going to save the world. Harry was going to tug at his already messy hair on late nights, studying to be an Auror like his mother, like his uncle, and he was going to help people. George was going to torment a whole new generation of Hogwarts teachers with the trinkets and tricks he’d sell to the schoolchildren. Charlie would burn pot roasts for dinners, years and years of them, and Percy, muttering, would fix them all as best he could.

Hermione was going to save the world, and Ron wanted to be there to see it.

They were going to lose things they had wanted to keep. He never wanted to see Hermione cry again, but he would, because he wanted to hear her correct his spelling, and to see her roll her eyes and to call giant old tomes “some light bedtime reading.”

He wanted to hear about all of the hazings Lily would gleefully concoct for Harry when he joined the Aurors. He wanted to teach Bill’s kid how to play wizard’s chess, and to see Charlie go back to school, and to argue with Ginny about comics. He wanted to know what Hermione looked like in the morning, sleep-mussed and soft, smiling.

Ron opened his eyes.

–excerpt from the last son by dirgewithoutmusic

#so this is really long and i apologize #but i really did want to put all of it down #i almost included the bit about draco that comes right after this #but i resisted #undiscoveredshades

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 6 years

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Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: Based on events in BTVS 7.19 “Empty Places.” Some gore and death. Major feels. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 37: The Bodies

Giles thought his heart would explode with happiness and turn to ash all at once. The smell of the ocean blew in through Buffy’s open window as they buzzed down the highway. The sun blazed above them turning the grass and water painfully bright.

When she’d asked to come with him to pick up a couple of Potentials in LA, Giles couldn’t suppress his smile. He’d taken the scenic route to give them more time together. Family time.

Despite all of his attempts at conversation, Buffy had been silent for the first hour.

“Would you like some music?” he asked.

She nodded.

Giles pushed a few buttons, but these rental cars always confused him, every company wanting to make their radio more distinct and impossible. Smiling faintly, Buffy leaned forward and pressed a button. The radio came to life with Led Zeppelin. Buffy punched the button so hard, it popped off.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Maybe not music.”

He nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as Buffy pulled her sweatshirt tighter and sank into the seat. “At least the damnable insurance will be used this time.”

Buffy reached out, taking his hand in hers. Giles wanted to slam on the brakes. To sit in this moment in the sun with his surprise daughter for maybe the last time and just enjoy life. He drove on, fingers entwined with Buffy’s.

After a few minutes, she sighed. “I don’t want to fake smile. I don’t want to lie. Not with you.”

He was happy to hear it, and gave her fingers a quick squeeze.

“But I can’t talk about it now.” She stared out at the highway ahead of them in silence.

As they entered city limits, still far from the airport, Buffy asked, “Would you wait for me?”

“Wait for you?”

“I was going to catch a bus from the airport. I, uh, need to see someone.”

Of course. This quiet trip hadn’t been about family time at all. She wanted to see Angel; for what purpose, Giles didn’t dare guess. “I am sure I can busy the Potentials with lunch.”

He glanced at her quickly, her shoulders slumped with the weight of the world, her eyes without spark. “Buffy, I hope seeing him helps.”

Karen swerved but still hit the pothole squarely, causing her old Neon to spit out her CD in protest. “Fine,” she sighed, tossing the disc in the passenger seat. She wasn’t in the mood for N*SYNC anymore. Not since she had hit Sunnydale.

Sunnydale was abandoned. Not a graffiti-riddled, broken glass, run down sort of abandoned. Rather a ghost town, like one of those stories about robots carrying on after a nuclear explosion. The sprinklers went off on the overgrown lawns. The lights were on in the abandoned stores. The traffic signals blinked between red and green, though no one was around to stop or go.

For years, her Watcher, Penny Seaward, had told her the Slayer was in prison. “Uncontrollable, that girl. Faith murdered a man in cold blood. Now we all must pay the price.” But Karen wasn’t going to sit back and let people get hurt because the Slayer was an idiot. After all, she was a Potential, so she had every right to keep San Francisco safe from vampires. In the last two years, she’d killed two dozen vampires and one demon all while balancing school and work.

Truth was, Karen often thought of herself as The Slayer.

Four days ago, she went out to patrol Golden Gate Park, where she ran into four...creatures. Manlike beings with their eyes branded shut, yet still able to see, dressed as monks and carrying curved daggers. She ran, got the drop on two of them and ran again. Her muscles were burning by the time she ran into a cute mounted police officer who was more than happy to give her a slightly surreal ride home.

After Officer Cutey McHorserider dropped her off at her apartment, she found a letter from her Watcher. “Karen, Run. Something old and evil has risen up, and it’s trying to wipe out the Slayer line. You need to get to Sunnydale. Buffy Summers is there. She can help you. I will try to distract these demons, then rejoin you in Sunnydale. Love always, Penny.”

The letter told her so little, yet spun her world upside down. Had the monsters in the park killed Penny? If Buffy Summers, the previous Slayer, was still alive, who was Faith? And how could Buffy, a rebel Slayer who’d shirked her duties to run off with her vampire boyfriend possibly be of any help?

After a tense morning of driving, Karen finally pulled up in front of the small white bungalow. With its windows and doors covered in weird graffiti it was lively compared to the rest of the town. At least, it was loud enough inside that Karen had to knock a few times before a small girl with short curly hair framing her face opened the door.

“Buffy Summers?”

The girl scoffed like someone had just confused her for Sharon Osbourne. “God no. I’m Ju. Who are you?”

Karen peeked inside, where a tangle of girls stared back at her. Many were too young to be roommates, and they clearly weren’t related. They must be -- “Karen Zhào. Potential.”

“Andrew! Dawn! We got another one!” Ju shouted back into the house. “Welcome to the lunatic asylum,” she grumbled before going back to the girls sitting on the living room floor.

Karen steeled herself and walked inside. Her fellow Potentials draped themselves across the floor as if sitting required an excruciating amount of energy. Every one of them had dark circles under their eyes and bruises on their arms. One girl held an icepack against her head.

A petite blonde in her early twenties, dressed in flares and a trendy slashed tee, trotted down the stairs. She looked like she ate worry for breakfast. “Giles didn’t bring you. Who are you?”

“Uh, Karen Zhào. I drove down --”

“You drove?!” she said with obvious delight.

“From San Francisco. My Watcher told me to get to Sunnydale because Buffy Summers was here, but I’m kind of confused because she had also told me Buffy died two years ago.”

“I’m Buffy, and she wasn’t lying,” the blonde replied, nonchalantly.

While Karen tried to process that this slip of person was the dead rebel Slayer, two tall, handsome men in their late twenties arrived with crates of apples and oranges.

“Eat up, girls!” cheered the shorter one. He smiled at Buffy while the Potentials mobbed the food.

He looked at Buffy with an adoring radiance undercut by pleading desperation. Buffy barely acknowledged him. Karen wasn’t sure if the man was in the doghouse, or if the doghouse would be an improvement.

“Fresh fruit?” Buffy said to the taller one. “Where’d you find that unicorn?”

“I’m resourceful,” replied the shorter one, smiling like he wasn’t being ignored.

“Hey! Hey! Bringers!” shouted a girl by the window.

In a flash, the whole crew flooded out of the front door. Across the street, four of those strange monks Karen had fought back home were -- Oh God -- they were dropping bodies on the sidewalk. Then in a flash of metal -- CRACK! SLASH! CRUNCH! -- the Potentials killed three of the monks. The fourth ran down the street with a Potential in pursuit. Thwack! Thwack! She landed two throwing stars in its back before it rounded the corner.

“Lara! Come back!” shouted an African girl who seemed a little older than the rest of the teenagers.

The Potential with the throwing stars, Lara, glared back at them, then up the street before slowly returning to the crowd.

A stone-faced girl with blue hair and a sweet-looking girl with large blue eyes pulled their blades from the bodies.

“You guys are pretty good,” Karen said. “I fought some of these guys the other day. Not easy.”

Blue Hair raised an eyebrow. “And you lived? At least you’re not green.”

“Mine were armed, too,” said Karen with a shrug. She wasn’t about to let any of these amateurs condescend to her. But why weren’t these monks armed?

Buffy and the two men pushed through the crowd. “Move or you’re helping with body duty!” snapped the shorter one. The crowd parted.

“We should go after them,” said Lara with a thick Russian accent. “How many have we killed these last two weeks?”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Buffy said. “First, the bodies.”

Under the scarred Bringer corpses lay two bodies. Both had their throats slit. A mother and her young daughter.

The shorter man drew a sharp breath at the sight of the two blonde bodies. “Jo?”

“Caleb,” corrected Buffy.

The first body had arrived two weeks prior, delivered at night by some vampires. It was a teenage boy. Throat cut, but no sign of a vampire bite. The next morning, Bringers brought an old woman in the same condition. They weren’t food; they were calling cards.

Through a combination of beating up vampires for information and the Winchester’s detective skills, they had learned that the priest who Cloé claimed had killed the girls at St. Agnes’ was Father Caleb Mitchum. Shockingly, he was a real priest. Less surprising, he’d been moved from parish to parish for over a decade, never lasting anywhere longer than a year.

After the first day, the Potentials, itching for a fight, started to pick off the messengers. They burned the Bringers’ bodies. The victims, they buried, which was more dignity than Caleb’s victims had gotten in the past.

Every town he’d moved to, girls went missing. Sometimes their bodies were discovered months later. Sometimes only pieces turned up. No suspect was ever named.

Without a word between them, Buffy and Dean had set off alone to bury the latest pair of bodies. She didn't particularly want to be alone with Dean, but she needed her hands to help lay these victims to rest. Buffy tried to avoid thinking about the smallest body wrapped in a sheet in the trunk of the Impala, but she couldn’t stop seeing her anyway. Maybe two years old. A mop of golden curls. This was the first child Caleb had delivered, and Buffy suspected neither of the victims were local. He’d killed that woman for a reason.

“Who was Jo?” Buffy asked.

“Another hunter.” Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“To you,” Buffy clarified. She knew that Jo back in Dean’s world had died. She was one of the names memorialized in a tattoo of those he blamed himself for. The dead he couldn’t let go of.

“Another hunter,” he replied.

“Did you--?” Her throat seized up as she pictured the blonde girl again. Did you have a child with her? But no. Couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have kept that from her.

“No, we weren’t together,” he said. “Not at all. Family friend. Ambitious kid. Died on my watch.”

This was always his story. Maybe it was true. But if it was, why would Lucifer tell Caleb to find her doppelganger? Buffy wouldn’t ask again. After all, she had her own secrets to keep.

They had recently discovered that Caleb was holed up in an old monastery turned winery on the edge of town. With its thick walls and narrow windows, it was the perfect place for hiding Bringers and vampires. But they’d been slashing and staking Caleb’s minions for weeks. How many could be left?

Buffy knew the Potentials weren’t ready. They’d gotten pretty good, but there would be casualties. But if they, the Chosen and Near-Chosen, did nothing, more people would die anyway. Innocent people.

She couldn’t sit around while Caleb was still alive.

It was morning when Buffy and her rag tag army -- Potentials, hunters, a Watcher, a witch, a construction worker, an ex-demon, an ex-vampire, an unemployed principal, and Buffy’s baby sister -- descended on the winery. The front doors were already open -- waiting. It was dark inside, and she suddenly thought of those deep sea fish with dead eyes and nightmare teeth that lured smaller fish into their mouths with a small, bobbing light. She felt like a small fish.

Willow and Ella quickly began setting up a field to keep any demon reinforcements from joining the fray. Everyone watched the two redheads work. Some muttered prayers as they mentally counted down the seconds until they’d enter Caleb’s lair.

Cas, now would be a great time to make an appearance, Buffy offered the air before steeling her nerves.

Buffy entered first. The Potentials followed her closely. Racks of massive wine barrels -- one rack straight down the middle -- forced them to split up. Buffy motioned to the shotgun-toting Winchesters to each take a side.

Her crew divided, squeezed in a narrow space, with objects to hide behind at every turn. Her brain screamed Trap! But another night at home meant more bodies in the morning.

A high pitched wzzzz! Bianka dropped her crossbow, smacking her bloody neck and the small knife buried inside. As she fell, a gunshot rang out.

“Bringers!” Dean shouted.

The room exploded in a whirl of fangs and blades, flying bolts, vampire dust, and blood splatter. With one swift blow, Buffy decapitated two vampires. A bolt whizzed over her head, nailing a third.

Two cries peeled from the back of the room. Vampires had circled behind them and were preparing to feast on Ju and Nitika cowering by the door.

“Grace! Sophia! Spike! Cover the front!” Buffy commanded as she swung up on the racks, cutting her way through Bringers on her way to the back of the group.

With a swift kick, she knocked three barrels off the stack, their BOOM startling the vampires into letting the girls go. She kicked another barrel, pinning a vamp. Ju, bloody and furious, staked the trapped one. Buffy killed the other. Ju shook Nitika, and the girl slumped, lifeless.

“Get moving!” Buffy barked. She scurried to the top of the dividing row and found a Bringer. She waited as he whirled and flared his blades, watching the rhythm, and gutted him when he bared his stomach mid-display.

Below, on the other side, Dean shielded Maya, her face covered in blood. He put a bullet in a Bringer’s skull.

Sam had switched to an ax, and he and Betje worked through the crowd of vampires with berserker fury.

In the back, one vampire had Mio’s arms pinned behind her while the other went in for a bite. The girl headbutted him and kicked the biter back. Before Buffy could jump into the fray, Xander and Dawn swept in and helped Mio kill both vampires.

Buffy ran down the stack of barrels and leapt off at the front of the room where Caleb stood smirking at the bloodshed. Next to him stood Buffy’s mother.

“You know,” said her Not-Mother in a disapproving tone, “had I arrived in any other town, met any demon before I met Spike, I wouldn’t have cared about you at all. After all, what can one girl do against the onslaught of Hell? You’re not that special, my dear.”

“Did you run out of fingers to count on, Lucifer?” Buffy retorted over the clatter of weapons.

The Potentials started to break free from the confines of the aisle. They flooded the open space at the back of the building, cutting down everything in their path.

Buffy’s mother morphed into Angel. Buffy bit her tongue.

A scream rang out and was cut short. Buffy kept her eyes on Caleb.

The priest prowled towards her with an oily confidence. “The slut thinks she can win this.”

“She thinks Dean can win this.” The First corrected.

“Are we going to fight or patronize each other?” Buffy asked as she and Caleb slowly circled each other. “Because I am itching to break in these ass-kicking boots.”

Again, Lucifer changed his visage, this time turning into a familiar blonde. She had a narrow chin and big brown eyes, long, shiny hair like Buffy’s. Jo. Her grey t-shirt was soaked in blood, her guts spilling out.

“This fight is a rerun of one the Winchesters already lost. It’s when Dean lost her,” Lucifer said, pointing to the face of the girl he was wearing. “You won’t die as quickly. You are familiar with the definition of insanity, aren’t you, Buffy?

“Slayer or not, your bodies are blood and bone. So fragile, oxygen rusts you out if you don’t kill yourself with fast food first. But you’re a blowfly compared to most humans. Buzzing. Stinging. Nagging.”

“Slappable,” added Caleb.

“Short lived.”

“Then I’ll get to the point,” Buffy said, plunging her sword through Caleb’s heart.

He did not fall. He did not bleed. He smiled, pleased, and pulled it out by the blade.

Buffy tried to sweep Caleb’s legs out from under him, but he was too fast, skipping over her with delight. “Weaponless and alone,” he scoffed. “But why would I kill you when I could, say, kill her?”

Two Bringers stepped forward with Grace pinned between them. She squirmed, stomped his feet and tried to headbutt him, but he slit her throat.

Buffy lunged at him. A crowd of Bringers blocked her path. She elbowed one in the face, snatching its blade and hacking through the monks.

Caleb sank deeper into the crowd.

I don’t want to kill you yet. Jo’s voice twisted through Buffy’s head like whispers in a quiet room.

Dozens of vampires streamed in from grates in the floor. Some of the barrels popped open to reveal more Bringers. The girls were bloody, lagging. Someone screamed.

I want you to watch. To suffer.

Caleb wrapped his hands around Vi’s head and snapped her neck.

You’ll die in the end. Everyone Dean Winchester loves dies. He will abandon you as God abandoned me.

Buffy plunged a stake into a vampire as she worked her way back through the crowd. “Turn back!” she cried. “Get out!”

Have you ever wondered why God doesn’t help you, of all people?

Dawn was directing Potentials back toward the entrance when Caleb grabbed her by the throat.

Buffy’s heart stopped. She pushed through the crowd, now a writhing wall of blood and steel. Dawn kicked the priest. She couldn’t scream. Buffy pulled a short knife from a Bringer’s body and hurled it at Caleb. It sank into his neck, but he did not flinch. He smiled back at her through the throng of bodies and plunged his thumb into Dawn’s eye.

You can’t protect anyone.

A muzzle flash and Caleb reeled back, one side of his face covered in buckshot. Sam wrapped his arm around Dawn and helped her toward the door.

Buffy dusted three more vampires blocking her path before jumping on top of the barrels again. A knot of girls was stuck at the end of the row. They were blocked by bodies and barrels. Buffy ran to the end of the row and shouted, “I’ll hold them off! You climb!” Sophia, twirling her double axes with deadly precision, refused to leave her side. They cut through one, two, five vampires while Shakti, Kate and Wook climbed to safety.

“Buffy? Buffy!” Dean shouted somewhere behind her.

She turned for a second -- only a second -- to answer him and in that second, Sophia screamed. A vampire had gotten ahold of her. She chopped off its hand, but two more grabbed her. Then three. A hoard dragged her back into the building. Then they began to feast.

Buffy couldn’t save her. Couldn’t save any of them. She ran out to the crowd of bloody Potentials, a few dead Bringers at their feet. Willow, Giles and the others were busy attending the injured and loading Robin’s school bus. “Is this everyone?” she asked Spike.

“Sophia?”

“Dead.”

“Then these are your survivors.”

“Fuck this!” shouted Dean, storming toward his car. Moments later, he returned with two gas cans. He splashed the fuel all over the base of the building and doors. He flicked his lighter and set the trap ablaze.

Buffy sat unblinking, staring at the wall of the hospital, seeing nothing. She was crusted with blood, none of it hers. All of it hers.

Dawn did not want to see her.

Bianka, Grace, Violet, Nitika, Leticia, and Sophia -- all dead. Over half of the Potentials bleeding from knife wounds or bite marks. A few broken and dislocated bones. Kimberly was missing part of a finger. Rachel had taken a blade so deep to her leg, the bone showed.

Then there was Dawn. Dean, Xander and Giles had driven the more severely injured to the hospital. With only five nurses, one doctor, and a janitor working as an orderly, understaffed was an understatement. They said they wouldn’t leave town until everyone else did.

Buffy told them to leave tonight.

Xander and Giles were visiting Dawn, trying to calm her down, leaving Buffy and Dean alone for only the second time in weeks, the first being when they had buried the bodies the day before.

Dean couldn’t believe that she wanted to attack Caleb. “You think you can just waltz in there and stab stab, the big bad wolf is dead? That’s suicide! Caleb will eat these girls alive.”

“Then tell me your brilliant plan,” she had said coldly.

He didn’t have one. What he had were two dead bodies in his trunk -- a child and a woman unfortunate enough to look like Jo Harvelle.

“If we don’t move soon, the girls will go after him on their own. Hell, Lara’s already tried! Besides, Caleb is just a man. A totally creepy serial killer, yes, but still human. And the only play we have right now is knocking down Lucifer’s lieutenants.”

Dean had considered the chasm between them, widening exponentially each day since Cloe’s suicide, and wondered if he could make the jump. “You’re gonna kill him? Kinda out of line with your code, isn’t it? Sure you’re ready for that?”

“Don't talk to me like I’m some up-and-coming new kid! We can’t wait this out!”

He would have gladly killed Caleb for her. “I wasn’t--”

“You have no idea what I’m going through right now!”

Didn’t he? For nearly a year, angels had been moving him through time, threatening the people he loved -- hell -- giving him advanced stomach cancer. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy trying to keep Michael, God’s number one groupie, from crawlin’ up my ass to get a feel for what it’s like to be a fucking Girl Scout troop leader!”

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his lips, but she was already lost to him. He could see it in the tension in her body as she turned away from him, looking at her ruined city flashing by the Impala. As they fought their way into the winery, he kept wondering if those would be their last words. But now they were in the same quiet, dim room.

His voice was soft, pleading. “Dawn will be --”

“Don’t.” She didn’t even look at him.

“I was just --”

“You can’t make this better, Dean. You can’t fix this. People are dead. Dawn’s lost an eye. Anything you say will only make it worse.”

Dean understood. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to suck other people into this angelic pissing contest. And because of him, because he’d been selfish and stayed, Dawn had lost an eye. Because of him, the women he loved would lose more people she loved. As always, his love brought destruction.

The evening sun lit up the city at a sharp angle, twisting familiar shapes. Everything was bathed in light or shadow. There was no middle. As Giles drove the Summerses home, the stop lights and flickering neon of the businesses shut off.

Sunnydale was lost.

The moment they pulled up to the house, girls started streaming out the front door.

Buffy said in a tired, resigned voice, “Get back inside! Sunset is --” Someone shoved her and she fell to the driveway, tiny pebbles stinging her palms. Buffy looked up and saw Betje, her clothes covered in dried blood, her usually stoic face wild with rage.

“What the fuck was that?” Betje shouted.

“That was losing,” Buffy said, getting back up.

“That was slaughter! Why did we not burn the place to begin with? Maybe then Sophia would still be alive!”

“I’m sorry about your friend --”

“I do not want your pity. I fought with that girl across Europe trying to get to safety, and because of you, she is dead!” Betje spit in Buffy’s face.

Buffy slapped her, the blood on her palms smearing over Betje’s cheeks. Sophia’s death wasn’t her fault. Was it? Betje lunged at her, her hands around Buffy’s throat as they tumbled on the lawn. Buffy kicked her off, sending her flying and knocking over several other girls.

Buffy felt arms around her stomach. Hands on her arms. Dean voice growling in her ear, “You are better than this.” She could have broken his and Sam’s hold easily, bloody noses as parting gifts, but she didn’t want to hurt him. That was part of the problem.

Some of the girls had circled around Betje, whispering and casting sharp glares Buffy’s way. Willow, Xander, Anya and Robin stayed on the porch looking relieved to not be involved. Dawn stood by the car; her one good eye fixated on the lawn as if considering whether or not it needed a mow. Giles looked annoyed.

Keisha stepped forward, her eyes only briefly resting on Buffy. Normally quietly confident, she’d never been so wary, so tentative in the months they’d known each other. “We were talking while you were at the hospital and --”

“You screwed up, Buffy!” blurted Dani, gleefully.

They could hate her all they wanted, but they were in over their heads if they thought they could do better. “What was your big play against Lucifer, huh, Dani? Wow me.”

“It is not about beating Lucifer. It is about staying alive,” said Betje. “Something you do not seem concerned with.”

“Not concerned?!” Buffy dug her nails into her bleeding palms to keep from slapping the girl again. “Do you think I let fifty girls into my home because I was lonely? Do you think this is summer camp? Staying alive is the entire reason you’re here!”

“And you can’t wait to get us out, can you?” sneered Kate. She had a black eye and split lip. “Always shoutin’ at us. Tellin’ us when to sleep an’ what to eat an’ where we can’t go. We’re only allowed to be safe if we stay lock step with you.” Several girls nodded in agreement.

“She hides in her room!” shouted a voice from the back.

“She disappeared for a whole day!” added another.

“It was not a good plan, Buffy. You know that.” Lara’s arm was in a makeshift sling.

Buffy did know. Dean and Sam had been unable to stop Lucifer. She could do nothing but knock off each second-in-command as they rose up. Her fingers were turning blue in the dyke.

“Bad plan or not, you weren’t even helping,” sniped Dani.

Buffy felt as if she’d been slapped. “You’re joking.”

“I saw you up on top a those barrels like you was ‘managing,’” said Rona, using a nasally voice for managing. “Fightin’ off fuckin’ vampire on my own while fearless leader fails to lead.”

Buffy drew a sharp breath to respond, but Ju, her neck bandaged from the vampire bite jumped in first. “Nitika died crawling over the pile of rubble you made blocking the door.” Her face was pale and slick with tears. “She could have gotten out, waited for us to finish, but those barrels were blocking the path.”

“You say you’re saving us,” began Karen, “but if I hadn’t nailed that vampire with the crossbow, you’d be dead and one of us would be the Slayer.”

“That would be better,” said Dani, darkly.

“Whoa!” shouted Dean, getting between Buffy and the Potentials. “You talk a big game kid, but you’ve had your ass in class all this time. You ain’t got no idea what hell she’s going through.”

Neither do you.

“Maybe not, but Faith Lehane does,” said Karen.

Buffy was stunned by the out-of-nowhere suggestion that she and Faith were on the same level. She would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying.

“Who’s Faith?” asked Maya.

The gossip made Dani look like a child hopped up on candy. “She’s the real Slayer. Buffy did die, after all.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the girls, and Dean, who she’d never told about Faith, gaped at her in disbelief.

If they wanted to think she wasn’t the real deal, fine. “Sorry, but she’s in prison for murder. You brats are stuck with me.”

The girls exchanged knowing glances, some with tears, others with smirks. Keisha was pushed forward again.

“Buffy, I don’t know you, and you’re probably a different person without all this Lucifer stuff going on, but...we decided you have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out of my house?”

“It’s my house too,” said Dawn. “They’re right. You’re not yourself.”

Bile rose in her throat. Her sister, too?

Giles added, “Perhaps the stress is getting to you. You wouldn’t have made those mistakes even a few weeks ago.”

Even Giles. Giles who believed in her more than anyone else. Giles who she’d trusted with one of her most stressful experiences. He thought she was broken.

“You can’t be serious.” But she knew they were. “What, are you going to put Dani in charge?”

“No,” said Betje. “Dean.”

Dean’s face was a mixture of shock and indignation. “No, no, no. This ain’t my circus.”

“You set the building on fire!” Betje encouraged. “We should have done that in the first place.”

Buffy didn’t want to hear him defend her again. She didn’t need defending or a highlights reel of her failures. She needed sleep. While they argued, she sneaked into the house.

Throwing some clothes in a backpack, she uncovered a purple bag and three books, long forgotten Slayer gifts from Robin Wood. The same Robin Wood on her front lawn nodding along to the idea that she was a failure.

Maybe she was. Even so, she was the only Slayer there. She tossed the bag and books into her duffel and left out the backdoor.

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