#sees a walking corpse following him around and decides to offer her his jacket

[krikeymate]

Fictober 2023: Day 11: “You lost it. Well, we lost it.” - Tara wakes up. For Bailey. Fandom: Scream Rating: T Warnings: Violence.

➖

Sam was supposed to be better than this. A good person, a positive role model for her sister.

Turning out like Billy had been her biggest fear all these years, the paralysis demon stalking her night and day, the devil pushing her to fall.

She tried so hard every damn moment, every second, to keep herself in check, to walk away.

She’d tried to walk away.

But Tara… Tara’s not like her.

Or maybe the problem is that she’s too much like her.

Either way, the end result is the same.

There’s a body between them and a bloody knife.

And Sam had just stood there and let it happen.

There was nothing she could have done. That’s what she tells herself.

It all just… happened so fast. How could she have stopped it?

One moment she has an arm wrapped around Tara’s shoulder, steering her unsteady sister home after one too many drinks at a Blackmore Christmas party, ignoring the jeering asshole behind them, the next…

He should have just shut up. Why didn’t he shut up?

What sort of person sees “a serial killer” on the street and decides to follow them, to shout crude remarks, to scream I know what you are? Only an idiot.

He’d been hoping for a fight, and he got one. Just not the one he was expecting.

Tara had managed to slip from her hands with more grace than Sam had thought her capable of in this state. She’d only managed to catch a glimpse of the fury on her sister’s face before she had turned away to storm up to their stalker of the night.

He had laughed right up to the moment he caught a fist in the crotch and another to the face. Tara was quick and ruthless; he never stood a chance to defend himself. Just like she was taught.

All the while, Sam had stood frozen, unable to move.

“That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Tara spits, grabbing at his jacket and pushing him to the floor.

The venom in Tara’s voice had shocked Sam, keeping her feet pinned to the ground. Tara tells him to have some respect and to mind his tongue with an authority their own mother could only wish to command. It triggers a warmth that spreads through her, fingers tingling and twitching at her side.

Her sister growls at the weeping man on the ground, something menacing in her voice as she tells him to choke on this. The crack of his jaw beneath Tara’s boot sends a shiver down Sam’s spine.

To be defended so vehemently, it cuts through the chill of the Winter air. She feels her heart swell in her chest, feet stepping forward, drawn, Tara’s name falling from her lips.

Her sister turns her head to meet her gaze.

There’s a tantalising look in her eyes, desperate and eager. Hungry. It fills Sam with adrenaline, excitement flooding her veins.

She wants to take hold of the knife Tara slips into her hand from her sleeve. She wants to know what happens next more, to watch.

The man below them is too busy curling into himself crying to notice the silent exchange above him. If he had, it might have saved his life.

Sam’s quick to close the distance under Tara’s stare, the blade offered up to her as she comes to stand beside her. She takes her wrist in one hand, the other curling over Tara’s, closing it tight over the handle of the knife. An answer.

An offer.

The smile Tara looks up at her with is unnatural on her face, it sits like something from a dream, so close to something real and yet not quite right.

Sam finds it captivating.

She’s seen it before in 3am wakeups and in cracked bathroom mirrors. Glassy eyes and bared teeth, half-lost in a world no one else can see.

She never wanted that for Tara, but now it’s here, she finds she’s not strong enough to stop it.

Sam watches, fascinated, at the methodical way Tara plays. It’s designed to hurt, to elongate. To make a mess. There’s something… researched, about it. Deliberate, designed.

She thought she would care more about the corpse choking out at her feet, at watching the life drain from his eyes, but she finds that it isn’t nearly as interesting as the blood splatter on her sister’s face or the flexing of her hands around the blade.

She wonders what that says about her.

She wonders what it means that she lets it happen.

With each minute that passes, Sam watches the way Tara’s enthusiasm fades, anger slipping away to exhaustion, the long night creeping back up on her. She stands, slipping her arms under her sister’s and walking them back until she hits a wall.

She slides down, cradling Tara in her lap like the precious goods she is. They sit there for a while, her hand running through her sister’s hair, eyes roving over the corpse. No matter how hard she tries, Sam finds she can’t wipe the smile from her face. There’s a supernova in her chest and pride in her heart.

It shouldn’t be there. She knows that. She knows.

But it is. And it feels so good.

Sam’s attention is snapped back to reality as Tara mumbles something incoherent, cold nose seeking warmth in her neck.

“Sam?” she whispers.

“I’m here,” she replies. “I’ve got you.”

Tara twists in her grip, eyes roving over the scenery. “You’ve always got me,” she says, blinking at the dead body only several feet away. “What happened?”

Sam muses on the confusion in her sister’s voice. She has mere seconds to figure out how to respond, whether the truth will only hurt her, or if it will set her free.

She wishes the choice she made was because she thought it was the right one.

“You lost it. Well, we lost it.”

The words sit in the air, she can practically hear the gears in Tara’s head spinning round, calculating, analysing, understanding.

“Oh.”

Sam’s mouth goes dry as she waits. It feels like she’s on trial, waiting for a verdict, to be judged.

She should have known better.

“We made a mess.”

Tara would never judge her.

[katierosefun]

when you wind up crushing on your own original characters what then  😔

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Make A Scene

AMHL – Masterlist

Dick immediately noticed when Y/N started getting quieter and quieter as they got closer and closer to the venue.

Bruce had hired a driver to pick them up from their apartment in Gotham. And the car had gone quiet now. 

Dick reached over to gently hold her hand.

“Nervous?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, not really seeing the point in trying to lie to her boyfriend.

“This isn’t your first rodeo, ya know.”

She gave him a look. “You know that wasn’t the same.” Her eyes flickered to the driver. “I wasn’t exactly…myself. And I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

Also, tonight they didn’t have the security and comfort of being at Wayne Manor.

No, instead this particular event was being held at the ballroom of Gotham’s most extravagant five-star hotel. It was a party for Wayne Enterprises, not a personal charity or party of the Wayne family.

Bruce had kindly asked Dick and Y/N to attend when board members and business partners started asking if the whole family would be attending. Jason hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts about it. None of them expected him to show up. Tim had to attend since he worked for Wayne Enterprises. And Damian…Well, Damian was his father’s son and not yet an adult. He basically had to do whatever Bruce asked of him while he lived under his roof.

“I’m not gonna leave your side,” Dick promised.

He squeezed her hand to further emphasize it.

Their car pulled up to the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

There had to be a hundred journalists and photographers, along with random civilians who had nothing better to do than to see Gotham’s elite get out of cars and walk into a hotel.

Dick took in a deep breath.

Thankfully the car’s windows were tinted and protected them from any onlookers.

“Ready?” He asked her.

She nodded.

Dick opened the door and ignored the screams and flashes as he carefully helped Y/N out of the car with his offered hand. He also shielded her from the photographers to give her a moment to get out and adjust herself before they could capture any photos of her.

“Mr. Grayson! Mr. Grayson! Who is your mystery girlfriend?” Someone yelled.

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dick was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham City through association.

It wasn’t like people were asking for selfies everywhere he went. Or that the paparazzi were following his every move.

But in Gotham, people took note of where Dick Grayson went and who he was with.

And everyone noticed he’d had the same woman on his arm for quite some time now.

Even though Y/N and Dick had been dating for over a year, the media still couldn’t figure out Y/N’s identity. 

What they didn’t realize was that she controlled every single piece of information about herself that lived on the internet.

They didn’t stand a chance. 

Dick smiled and waved at people who called his name. But his hand other hand never left Y/N’s as he helped her up the stairs.

“Who are you wearing?” A female journalist yelled at Y/N.

She ignored them and focused on getting up the stairs without tripping and face planting. Not that Dick would ever let that happen.

However, she knew her outfit was going to draw gazes.

Y/N had made a promise to herself that if she was going to be forced to attend events like this with Dick, then she was going make a statement. People were already going to be staring at her, so she figured she might as well give them something good to stare at.

Instead of wearing a typical cocktail and formal dress, Y/N wore a full men’s suit that was tailored to perfection, but with the bowtie undone. It was what the fashion magazines would describe as “androgynous” in the press tomorrow morning.

Y/N wanted to control her own narrative. And she’d rather be judged for her bold decisions than just her trying to blend in.

Bruce insisted on paying for all the boys’ date’s dresses – in this case, suit – if they happened to bring one. He always thought it was more of an incentive for them to attend these terrible events if he encouraged them to bring significant others. And the press always had a field day with it, which only helped throw people of their trail when it came to their secret lives as vigilantes.

Everyone kept screaming Dick’s name as they walked in, and Y/N wondered how he got so good at smiling through the chaos and ignoring them.

Once they were inside, Dick felt the tension leave Y/N’s body a bit.

“Alcohol?” He offered with a smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, knowing it was exactly what she needed.

Quickly, he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing waiter.

They clinked glasses.

Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being my date.”

Y/N smiled at his sincerity.

Dick sighed before he threw back the champagne, “The quicker we find Bruce and prove we were here, the sooner we can leave.”

“Try not to sound so excited,” she laughed darkly.

Suddenly felt a small human wrap around her thighs.

Y/N gasped in excitement, “Dami!”

Dick smiled as he looked down at his 10-year-old brother hugging his girlfriend.

“Dick gave me the drawing you made for us. It’s so beautiful. I’m trying to find the perfect frame for it,” she told the boy.

Damian beamed with pride at that.

Suddenly the boy started asking a million questions about Stoker, one of his kittens that he’d given to them to take care of when Bruce gave a limit to how many cats Damian was allowed to have in the manor.

Then, to Dick’s shock, he saw Jason slowly walk over to them with his hands in his pant pockets.

He was not at all dressed nice enough for the event. No suit jacket. No tie. His white button-up shirt wrinkled, messily tucked into his pants, and with two many buttons undone. The sloppiness of it all clearly wasn’t an issue with the women, seeing as all of them were ogling Jason.

“Todd,” Damian greeted coldly, pausing his conversation with Y/N, who whipped around at the name.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled as she went to greet him.

Jason gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.

“I really didn’t think you were coming,” Dick told his brother.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I got a business engagement.”

Y/N and Dick shared a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked.

“I found my neighbor crying on her fire escape a few nights ago. Apparently… one of the finance bros of Wayne fucking Enterprises was everything but a gentleman to her.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization. “J, I already took care of that.”

“I know,” Jason nodded as his eyes scanned the room. He was clearly on a personal mission tonight. “You deleted the evidence. I am teaching him a lesson.”

Dick slowly put together what they were implying.

“Oh, please don’t make a scene, Jason.” Dick begged him.

Because he knew Bruce wouldn’t be dealing with the aftermath; it would be him.

“Don’t worry!” Jason laughed. "I’m gonna take him outside before I beat the shit out of him. No one here will even notice. It’ll be fine,” Jason assured him as he gave Dick a far too heavy slap on the back.

“Just tell Bruce and he’ll get him fired,” Dick tried to convince him to take the less violent route.

“Oh, we already did,” Y/N muttered.

Dick’s gaze shot to his girlfriend.

“He’s getting fired on Monday,” she clarified sheepishly.

“Since when do the two of you work together behind my back?” Dick accused them.

But he wasn’t actually mad about anything – maybe just a little bit bitter.

Jason opened his mouth.

“I swear to God, Jason, if you say ‘club business,’ I will lose it…” Dick warned.

Y/N tried to hide her smile.

“Got him,” Jason growled as he glared at someone on the other side of the room.

As soon as he left them, Dick gave Y/N his full attention.

“Seriously?” He accused.

“I’m sorry! He asked me for a favor and I was happy to do it once I realized what it was,” Y/N defended.

Dick pouted a little. Mostly because he hated being left out.

“Don’t worry, ya big baby. I’m still your ‘guy in the chair’ and no one else’s,” she teased before giving him a kiss, immediately wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“How come Jason gets to beat up people at events like this, but I’m expected to behave like a well-trained dog?” Damian mumbled.

Dick sighed and shook his head.

“Jason likes to think he’s a lone wolf who doesn’t have to play by the rules,” Y/N tried to comfort the boy.

To distract Damian from getting further into how unfair it was, Y/N asked him to show her more of his drawings.

This seemed to please Damian and he pulled his phone out, flipping through photos and showing Y/N his recent sketches.

With Y/N being entertained by his youngest brother, Dick decided to go to the bar and get the two of them a stronger drink and maybe get a kiddie cocktail for Damian. He’d pretend to be patronized and annoyed by it, but Dick knew better.

He patiently waited for the bartender’s attention. 

“So Gotham’s Golden Boy really has returned…” a husky voice uttered beside him at the bar.

Dick glanced over to see a beautiful woman close to his age eyeing him.

It was clear what she wanted. Dick used tactics like this on countless missions.

“So I have,” he answered.

He was polite, but distant.

Women hitting on him at events like this was nothing new. To Gotham, Dick Grayson was a Bruce Wayne 2.0 – younger, just as charming and handsome as his mentor and stand-in father figure. 

Dick knew how to play the game. But he never had any interest in casual relationships like Bruce did.

“Back for good?” The woman persisted.

“My girlfriend and I are just in town for a few weeks,” he answered before ordering his drinks with the bartender finally.

“Oh, brought up the girlfriend rather quickly,” she laughed.

Dick quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just…my friends and I had a bet going.”

Then she pointed to a group of three young women, who were giggling and smiling, not even trying to pretend like they weren’t watching them closely.

“Oh, yeah?” Dick asked, already tired of this conversation.

--

Jason had already rejoined Y/N and Damian.

Y/N looked down to see his knuckles red with irritation and bruised.

“Please tell me there’s not a corpse in the alley behind this hotel now…” Y/N sighed.

“No,” Jason answered coldly. “Though there fucking should be.”

“What did he do?” Damian asked curiously, clearly he hadn’t been listening to their earlier conversation that closely.

Y/N shifted her weight in discomfort, not sure how to handle the subject with the boy. Yes, Damian was far more mature than many grown men, but he was still just a kid. There were some things Y/N felt like they should at least try to protect him from still. 

“He got my neighbor too drunk to consent, filmed them having sex without her knowing it, and then showed it to a bunch of people at their work,” Jason answered bluntly.

Damian’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking long and hard about what his brother just told him.

After a moment, the boy perked up, “I know where we could hide the body so even father won’t find out.”

“Damian!” Y/N scolded.

But Jason was beaming.

Y/N looked around for Dick, hoping to find another sane person to stop the two boys from actually murdering anyone tonight.

But when she finally spotted him, she saw a woman standing far too close to Dick and pointing to a group of girls who flirtatiously waved and winked at both of them.

“Real cute,” Y/N muttered to herself.

“Vultures,” Damian growled as he followed her gaze.

“Jason, if I leave you alone with Damian, are you going to kill someone?” She asked without taking her eyes off her boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Damian groaned.

“No, I need you to watch Jason to make sure he doesn’t change his mind about keeping that asshole alive.”

“Fine,” Damian whined.

Without any further confirmation, Y/N left them. 

She walked across the party on a mission, never taking her stare off of her boyfriend.

Dick did a double take when he noticed her heading towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted innocently.

Because he was innocent. All he’d done was be polite to a bunch of women who were after him for his name…and maybe his good looks.

“I was wondering where my drink was,” Y/N said with a surprising calmness and smile.

Then she turned to the woman. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be a friend of Dick’s.” 

She held her hand out.

No cattiness. No rudeness.

Y/N said it with the same kindness that drunk women having with other drunk women in bar bathrooms.

“Oh…I’m Irina,” the woman stuttered as she took Y/N’s offered hand, clearly confused by Y/N’s niceness.

Dick held out her drink.

Y/N took it, quickly clinked her glass with both Dick and Irina.

“Cheers,” she sang before tossing it back and chugging the drink that was meant to be slowly sipped.

Dick didn’t know what game his girlfriend was playing, but he was intrigued.

Once Y/N lightly placed her empty glass back on the bar, she turned to Dick and tilted her head to the side. “Could you show me to the bathrooms? I have no idea where they are.”

“Of course,” Dick answered without knowing where this was going.

“It was nice meeting you, Irina,” Y/N told the woman as she linked her fingers with Dick’s and guided him away.

—

Meanwhile, Jason watched the interaction as if he were watching an award-winning movie. Him and Damian were way too far to hear, but everyone in the bat family could read lips more than fluently.

Then Jason smirked as he watched Y/N drag Dick away.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted as he snuck up on the two of them. “What are we staring at?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason hummed with hilarity, “just watching Y/N assert her dominance.”

“Good for her,” Bruce grinned as he realized what was happening.

He moved his attention to his youngest boy. “Alfred is waiting outside with the car. You’re officially released from your duties.”

“Finally,” Damian groaned.

“Don’t you wanna say bye to Y/N?” Jason asked.

“They’re coming to the manor tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce answered for his son. Then he raised a brow at Jason. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Jason’s only response was a shrug.

Bruce tried to hide his disappointment and nodded before he guided Damian away and walked him outside, where Alfred was waiting.

10 minutes later, Jason saw Dick trailing behind Y/N as she walked back to the main area of the event.

Jason burst out laughing at the spectacle. 

Dick’s hair was an absolute mess. Half of his shirt was untucked. His jacket was draped over his forearm. His lips were swollen and pink. Y/N had left lipstick all over his neck and even a bit on the collar of his shirt.

Yet somehow not a single hair was out of place on Y/N and her makeup was still immaculate. Her outfit was just as sleek and clean as when she’d arrived. The only thing different was the proud smirk on her lips.

Clearly Y/N had just had her way with Dick.

But she wanted to make sure the whole party knew about it.

—

Y/N hadn’t said a word to Dick since she dragged him from that woman.

Her body did all the talking.

One second they were at the bathroom doors, the next Y/N had thrown him against the tiled wall after locking the bathroom door.

She gave no verbal explanation, just started kissing him and undoing his pants.

“Not that I’m complaining. Like, at all,” Dick laughed as they rejoined the party. “But wanna to tell me what that was all about?”

Y/N finally stopped walking and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. “I think you know, Richard.”

Y/N only ever used his full first name to provoke and tease him. And he hated that it worked every single time.

Dick glanced around to see that everyone in their vicinity was eyeing them. Well, they were mostly eyeing him and how it was clear he’d just been fucked in the bathroom.

He stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “Ohhh, I see how it is.” His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second. “If a guy does that, he’s jealous and possessive. But if a woman does it, it’s sexy…”

Y/N proudly smiled like the cheshire cat. “Exactly.”

Something over his shoulder caught her attention. “Oh, I see Tim. I’m going to go say hi.”

Without hesitation, she brushed past him.

Dick let his head fall, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

He’d pay her back later tonight. And by ‘pay her back,’ he would just tell her how incredibly hot her behavior had been and basically invite her to do it whenever she damn well pleased.

Dick felt a presence beside him, and he didn’t have to raise his head to know it was Bruce.

“Hey,” Dick greeted him nonchalantly.

“You have lipstick all over your neck,” Bruce told him as he took a sip of his drink and looked around the party. “And your zippers down.”

“Sure is,” Dick sighed.

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

OK. This was way too fun to write. 

Let me know what you think!!!

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

[liquid-luck-00]

Magical Mayhem

Day 16: Magic @maribatmarch-2k21

Ao3 *** Here *** Part 2 *** Part 3

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Marinette may or may not have been messing with the spells in the grimoire. She also may or may not have accidentally reversed the spell binding the kwamii to the miraculous. In honesty that relieved almost all of her stress and weight that was thrust on her.

Unfortunately, the kwamii decided to each placed a blessing on her. That had led her to her current predicament. Sure Hawkmoth had been defeated but that didn't solve the liar Rossi problem. Her previous friends were no more than acquaintances at this point. Her own parents believed the liar over her.

So when her classmates, Lila finally getting her hands dirty, pushed her down the stairs, she let her magic wash over her. A duplicate fell and crumpled at the foot of the stairs. The right leg and left arm were in an unnatural position. Blood pooled from the head, growing ever larger. She herself went invisible and floated above them all.

No one moved, no one said a word. Not until a scoff and footfalls of one Alya Cesaire descended the stairs. "Really girl," she stepped into the pool of blood and grabbed the girl by her hair pulling her up. “Stop faking for attention. No one believes you.”

“Miss Cesaire, please have some respect for the dead!” Madame Mendeleev broke the tension, a sharp breath was heard from the collective in the courtyard.

“She is just faking it.” Again she rolled her eyes. No one noticing the three silvery orbs circling the scene, nor that every phone, computer, tablet, television was streaming this event.

“She is unresponsive, there is no movement of her chest meaning she isn’t breathing, and... and the pool of blood is too big. She is dead.” The teachers voice was no more than a whisper but it didn’t need to be.

"She can't be..." Alya dropped the girl’s corpse she just noticed she was holding up, bloody foot prints retreated with her.

"But I am dead." Marinette said as she floated above the corpse, glowing slightly, transparent, and wispy. "For those of you who don't know me, my name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous jewels. I was the hero of Paris, Ladybug." She smiled sadly around her.

"End Transmission." she blinked out of existence. "oh wait." She returned. "A blessing and a curse." Two of the three silvery orbs descended and landed in each hand. One exploded in green and landed on those who hurt her not only physically, mentally, and emotionally. The other spread red and descended on most of the world's populace. "And freedom." the last orb showered silver and all Kwamii on earth were freed. The spells to bind them erased.

And with that she once again let her magic flow within her body and left Paris behind her.

In hindsight, that might not have been the smartest idea. Magic attracts magic after all. Granted she found that out when she was submerged in glowing green water.

She pulled herself out of the pool. "Okay note to self, don't do that again." she muttered to herself, but her exit was short lived as there was a sword at her neck.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" A boy's voice growled at her.

"Alternate question." She offered, "Where am I and what is that?" was asked while pointing at the pool she just exited.

He didn't respond to her, at least not verbally, instead he pushed her to get up and walk with the sharp end of his blade. She didn't see anyone on the walk, but there were constant auras, it was almost claustrophobic. They got outside and then things clicked.

She was no longer in her world, the fact that the acid green pit was fueled by chaos magic, was an after thought in her mind, to the cliche looking ninjas in front of her.

"Nanda Parbat." slipped from her lips. "The home of the league of Assassins, The Lazarus Pit," turning to the man in front of her, “Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's head," turning back to the boy. "Damian Wayne, the next Robin." The two males hadn't responded to her. "Great I got pulled into a comic book world." she huffed in a muted whisper.

"How do you know that child." was sneered by Ra's finally breaking the silence.

"I apparently know a lot of this world," sass not failing her, she shot back. A vision of an attack that would happen in maybe an hour flashed in her mind. "Have fun with that Ra's." she smirked. "see ya around Wayne." she teleported away.

This time she had a better handle on her powers, granted she never really used her powers before this. She just knew what they where and what they did. How she had so much control may have been because of how magic worked with the miraculous in her world. But here it was completely different, magic had another way of working. Which might be how she had popped into a red cushioned armchair in-front of a roaring fire and two people?

A man had blue eyes, blonde hair and a kept, unshaven looking beard. He wore a long tanned duster jacket, white button down, tie, and slacks. And a woman(?) who had purple skin with darker purple markings. A fin? horn? crest? in a darker purple still. With a magenta cape.

"Um... Hi," she awkwardly. "I'm still trying to figure all this out."

"You are not of this world are you?" The woman asked. Mari shook her head in response. "What world are you from?"

"I have no idea and before this morning I never thought I'd answer that." she chuckled nervously.

"Bloody hell, then how did you get here?" The man decided to cut in.

"Would you believe that tiny pocket gods blessed me with magical powers and now I'm here in a completely different world, which I could have sworn was a comic book world before this morning." she began to ramble.

"Kwamii." The woman spoke. Marinette had looked up and nodded to the question. Was it even a question, it seemed more like a statement. But the woman continued after her nod. "They are present in a few other universes but not in this one."

'Huh' was the answer by both Marinette and the man.

"Your raw capabilities and affinity with magic seems to have been amplified by these blessings." the woman continued.

“Alright why don’t you show us what you can do love," standing, grabbing a cup from next to him, he waved her to follow. "Name's Constantine. Your's?"

"Marinette." she answered swiftly with a small smile.

"That," pointing at the woman, "is Black Orchid, or a bloody pain depending. She is the incarnation of the house itself."

"House?" she mused aloud. “Oh the House of Mysteries. I think I remember a bit but not much on it,” she scrunched her nose and tried to remember. “Ya no apart from the Dark timeline movies I've got nothing."

"What do you mean by that child," Orchid asked from beside her.

"Well in my original world this was all a fictional, a world with several incarnations and timelines." She rambled again.

As they entered a large room, Constantine had her attempt several spells. He then proceeded to lecture her on correct pronunciations, visualizations, and everything in between. Suffice to say that was how her magical training started in this new world, her new start.

She is down one abusive environment. Gained powers she is just learning to control. Got a new drunk uncle who can function like her on just as much caffeine and limited sleep. A sentient home that may be smarter than her phone and even more badass. And the knowledge that an asshole demon head just got his ass kicked. Unfortunately, she knows how this will play out, but just how much can she change without disrupting the timeline too much. Or if this even one of the timelines written out from her world, guess she will just have to live and find that out herself.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Gifts from the Kwamii

Tikki = luck

Plagg = destruction

Trixx = shape-shifting

Pollen + Wayzz + Longg = magical capability

Nooroo + Duusu = flight

Mullo = Languages (understanding + speaking)

Sass = foresight

Roaar = enhanced strength + stamina

Fluff = borrow/time/speed force

Kaalki = teleport/gate

Stompp + Xuppu + Ziggy + Barkk + Orikko + Daizzi = immortality

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 14

A/N An accusation...

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The music played softly through the car as we passed through Las Vegas and headed farther into the desert towards Utah. Vast sprawls of flat land spread out along all sides of us and the shades of mountains rose up in shadows in the far distance. The sky was a bright sunny blue and the few clouds that offered moments of shade were brilliant white. It looked almost picturesque and I suppose I could had admired the scenery more if it wasn’t for the task that was weighing on my chest.

Being the passenger, I was able to spread out all the clues we had collected over the previous twenty-four hours across my lap from my phone to Avalon’s and her mysterious letter she had received as well as my list of suspects I had started the night before.

I spoke my thoughts out loud to Jonah as he drove, going over everything we had been through to as close detail as I could. He listened patiently and quietly, focusing on the straight shot of road ahead of us.

“And you’re sure it wasn’t you?” Jonah tried.

“100% positive. We fought in the kitchen and she left to sleep in the studio on the pull-out. I remember watching her walk out.” I stared ahead at the road too, squinting in the desert sunlight as I took myself back to that night, speaking slowly as the pieces started to fit together even more, “I remember…the security alarm ringing from the monitor on the kitchen.”

I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of the broken glass on the kitchen floor with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera alarm peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

“I remember her scream.” I breathed. “Holy shit, Jo, I remember her scream.”

I pressed my hands over my ears as the sound of her faint agonizing shriek echoed through my mind. How I had managed to forget in the first place was beyond me. I must have followed her out there to have woken up on the floor beside her…if only I could remember enough to piece together who was in there with her. I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes until I saw those little dancing shapes in the blackness of my eyelids, trying to remember anything more.

“Don’t give yourself another headache, bro.” Jonan said gently.

I sighed tiredly and sat back up in my seat, “Yeah. Might need another Aspirin soon at this rate.”

Jonah chuckled lightly and turned up the music a little more as the song switched to one of his favourites. I hummed softly along to the music as I skimmed my social media, being careful not to show any activity in case my accounts were being watched. I was used to seeing my name pop up on my feed from my social status with Jonah but not like this; not with the equivalent of Wanted stamped across my forehead. New accounts had my licence plate numbers everywhere and were asking for any leads for my whereabouts in exchange for a good amount of money. Maybe if I turned myself in after I figured all this out I could turn my millions into a solid billion.

My mother texted me. The message popped down from the top of my screen.

Hey little boy. Give me a call when you can please. Love you x

I swiped the notification away and locked my phone with a sigh.

“Where are the notes you took yesterday in the car?” I asked Jonah flatly.

“Top of my bag in the back seat.” Jonah answered.

I shifted around to grab the corner of the pad of stationary that was peaking out of his bag and I dropped it on my lap. I compared it to my more detailed notes from the hotel paper and copied them over to the larger sheet that Jonah had started. I then added Corbyn to the list and his motives:

-Would do anything for a story/money

-Threatened her a few months ago

-Knows where we live

-Pushes boundaries

-Can talk his way into (or out of) anything

“Leaning towards a lead?” Jonah asked.

“I was thinking Zach but Corbyn seems pretty guilty honestly.” I answered flatly as I skimmed the list, tapping the end of the pen against my lips. “Still want to know how he just found us at that resort though.”

“If he’s with the paps he probably followed us and we didn’t know.”

“Son of a bitch.” I grumbled.

“Yeah.” Jonah exhaled deeply.

“His motives line up but it doesn’t answer the question of the missing security tapes.” I mumbled more to myself than anyone, shuffling the papers to set the letter on the top of the pile on my lap.

Jack’s writing on the jacket didn’t seem to match the penmanship on the letter. The letter was a bit messier and slanted in its print. I tapped the pen against my lips again in thought as I pulled out our original list to lay beside the letter. My tapping slowed to a stop as my eyes flicked between the two matching pieces of lined stationary and similar penmanship on both. The yellowish tinge to the papers and the brand stamp in the bottom corners were identical.

I quickly grabbed Avalon’s phone and went into her text messages, passing by her aggressive messages from Christian and the flat conversations with Jack and I scrolled through her list of threads. What I was looking for wasn’t there. I switched over to contacts and scrolled down to the J’s.

The single J was Jack as I had discovered earlier; then there was Jenna her hair stylist, Jon our finance manager, and Jonah. I clicked Jonah’s contact name to open up his information. His number was filed as ‘blocked’ in her phone. If he needed to contact her for whatever reason but was blocked…the only way would be through mail.

I felt the air drain from my lungs as I looked back down the mysterious letter and list of suspects on the matching page beside it. More questions swirled around in my mind and I mentally added to the list.

Jonah was certainly behind the letter and she obviously had some sort of falling out with him in order to block his number. He knew our address, of course, had a key and everything and knew when we were going to be home. He was in charge of putting the wedding gifts in the studio so he knew exactly where the knives were. And, to top it all off, he knew the code to the security cameras.

Holy shit.

He killed my wife.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 4

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

there's a place between the bank of a river and the actual water where the soil is soft. it's more like silt, leftover grains of earth not yet swept away. they're extremely delicate, made up of minerals and rock.

I love the earth. I love feeling it under my feet and the way it gives into my fingertips when they push through the surface. I love when I can sense the twisted roots of every plant. they reach for moisture, thin tendrils. there's something very pure about all of it.

which is why seeing the faceless corpse of a woman splayed out on the banks causes my stomach to wrench.

I guess it isn't the only reason, but it certainly doesn't help.

"the edges of these cuts are smooth, not torn," Rossi straightens up from his spot by her body. I don't know how he can get so close. when he waits for me to say something, my lips purse.

"so he must have used a sharp instrument to remove her face." I cross my arms over my chest. the water in her lungs makes me wonder how much pain she was in, how much it hurts to drown. unimaginable.

the slightly blue undertones to her skin imprint themselves in my mind, and my only thought is that I'm glad her eyes aren't open; I get nauseous when they are. instead of dwelling on the gaunt nature of her body, I speak to one of the crime scene experts about the time of death. his voice is barely audible over the rush of water against stones.

we spend about half an hour exploring the site, although something about this place in particular puts me off. I keep edging towards the sides of the river.

"we should meet Aaron back at the station. ready to go, kiddo?" Rossi catches my attention, beginning to make the short hike up the incline. he walks carefully to avoid sullying what I'm sure are expensive shoes, his face contorted with mild disgust. the nickname makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"sure." I turn to scramble behind him, my gaze catching on the scene. jewel-toned leaves heavy with rain, tipping to spill weighted drops in a slow, drowsy fall. and it's now filled with police officers and crime scene experts hauling this poor woman's body to somewhere not so public.

what a world.

we get in the car and Rossi turns the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. I sit with my hands folded neatly in my lap; I'm rigid, though grateful, when working with Rossi. it's something I still need to get used to.

"you okay, there?" he asks as we turn out into the street. my eyes turn away from the locust swarm of cop cars that are parked by the crime scene and I take a deep breath.

"yes, why?"

"you're not usually this quiet."

"really?" I deflect. I've never been particularly chatty at times like this. my mind usually gets sucked into what I'm seeing, memorizing every detail against my will for replay later that night.

"I'm a profiler, too, Clea. and a much more seasoned one than you," he glances my way with raised eyebrows. his features are softer than the photos I've seen before this. even the lecture I attended painted him in a different light. I forget how old he is. but his eyes return to the road while he sighs. "I know when something is wrong."

"nothing in particular," I shift in my seat a little. although I'm sure he gives great advice, I'm not ready to share with anyone the dreams that I've been having. "just still getting settled in, I think."

he must notice that I'm lying; I've never been quite good at it, even in front of non-profilers. but Rossi senses the discomfort that I'm trying to hide and nods.

"well, if it helps, I'm going to be having a wine tasting at my mansion once we get back to Quantico. the whole team is invited."

my words get knotted up in my throat as I think on this. "wine tasting?"

"yes. I've got plenty to spare." there's a slight archness to his tone. I smile.

"to be honest, I really don't think I've got the skill set for that," my limbs relax a little. "my experience is pretty limited."

"and you think the others know a lot?" he waves his hand dismissively. we both laugh.

"okay, then." I nod. "thanks, Rossi."

"Prego!" the sudden Italian interjection makes me roll my eyes playfully.

...

our case doesn't take nearly as much time as I expected. with the unsub's narcissism and general lack of intelligence, we catch him rather quickly and are home before the end of the week. there's a collective gratitude for this fact on the plane ride home which takes the form of lively card games and plenty of friendly trash-talking. we also enthusiastically discuss getting together in the evening.

the wine-tasting event that has been so praised by the team turns out to really be just an excuse for everyone to get drunk while draining Rossi's liquor supply. I've had about three different types of alcohol and, beyond the color, I have no idea what kind.

Penelope is pouring more chardonnay in her glass when she offers some to me. I nod, watch the lovely liquid fill up.

"I'd like to make a toast." Rossi announces, much to the feigned chagrin of Prentiss and Hotch. they roll their eyes while the Italian raises a scotch glass into the air. we're in the kitchen, standing around the counter while bantering about our personal lives and past cases.

"keep it short, Dave. I have to head out, soon." Hotch reminds. Rossi gives him a look, but then turns his eyes to me with a paternal affection.

"to Clea," he says, the rest of the team breaking into smiles. "and her hopefully very long career on the team-- if she can stand us."

there's a chuckle that rolls through the group, but then we all clink glasses. even Reid, who has been downing sparkling cider at an alarming rate, taps his flute against mine. I smile at him, at everyone who is now flooding me with questions. I get a happy, bubbly feeling while I drink. Penelope drops her head on my shoulder and mumbles something that I can't quite understand. JJ talks to Spencer about something, his eyes drifting between the contents of his cup and the clock on the wall. he's distracted by something.

"you okay there?" Emily leans against the counter next to me. she's following my line of sight until it lands on JJ and the boy genius. I nod.

"yeah. just thinking."

"about?"

"how it would feel to be this rich." I send her a smirk. she snorts.

"I would love to know."

"how often do you guys have these things?" I peer around at the guests. everyone seems to be accustomed to the behemoth household that Rossi keeps, except for me. and all of it is so clean, too.

"here? only a few times a year. Rossi doesn't like having people over." she says the last part with a laugh, nursing her drink. I cross my arms.

"fair enough."

"I think people are gonna be heading home, soon, though." she checks her watch. I remember how almost everyone here is bound somehow to someone else, a family or significant other or someone who misses them. I'm not tired at all.

"what about you?"

"I have date night plans with Sergio." she grins.

"I didn't know you have a boyfriend." I raise my eyebrows at this knowledge. Emily seems like the type of person to play the field; her settling down with one person is surprising by itself.

"Sergio is my cat," she tells me. "much more cleanly."

"even better." I laugh. we discuss the merits of owning a pet over dating people until JJ decides that she needs to get back to her family. Hotch is heading out, too, and the steady departure stream of guests begins to form. it's not very late and I'd much rather do something else than go home and watch TV, so I survey the room.

"hey, Reid." I find myself standing beside him while he puts on his coat. it's got elbow patches and there's a scarf that he wraps around his neck to accompany it. he peeks at me curiously.

"yes?"

"would you wanna get a coffee or something?" I grab my jacket off the hanger. before he can say no and shy away from my offer, I explain. "I'm just not in the mood to get home right now."

"uh," his eyes dart down to his shoes, then back up at me. "sure. yeah, that would be... fun."

"awesome." I beam. ever since we hung out in that museum in Boston, I've been thinking about how to get to Spencer. maybe it's just because he's been the slowest to warm up to me, but I'm getting more and more curious about him. that moment when he did something playful-- there has to be more of that. and we obviously have some things in common. it might be nice to have a friend like that, someone with whom I can go to art exhibits.

we all thank Rossi for a lovely evening and I'm about to ask if Spencer wants to Uber somewhere when he starts walking purposefully toward a gorgeous yellow car. it's old-- like, 1950's refurbished, old-- and well cared for.

"whoa." I say as he opens the passenger side door for me in a surprisingly courteous move. I slide inside and breathe in the delicious scent of leather and something crisp and sharp. I wait until he gets in on the other side to ask my questions. "is this yours?"

"yes, actually. I got it about a year ago and I don't drive it very often." he runs slender fingers over the wheel, touching it with a quiet admiration. I turn to him in the dark, the glow from his own headlights casting pale shadows over his face as he starts the thing up. it rumbles to life in a charming, old-timey way.

the sounds of the engine defuse the silence between us as we drive into the city. Spencer almost forgets I'm there, the muscles in his wrists and arms relaxing as he handles the steering wheel. I, on the other hand, am painfully aware of his presence.

every time we make a turn, every time his lips part, I start to think he's going to say something. but he never does, and there appears to be no inclination whatsoever. I wonder if I should ask him some random question to get him rambling, but the nervous energy he usually radiates has softened to something more muted.

it's entertaining when he speaks. I think it's also a guard against vulnerability; at least, that's why I speak so much when I'm anxious. I take his silence as a compliment.

finally, he manages to maneuver his way into a parking spot. I glance around the street, not recognizing the place.

"what is this?" I ask curiously. his hand wraps around the stick shift and parks, turns off the vehicle.

"I come here on the weekends." he glances briefly at me before climbing out of the car. I get out and watch him come around to my side. he's only wearing a cardigan over his button-up, which looks surprisingly cozy.

"so, what kind do you usually get?" I ask. we start to walk down the sidewalk, passing streetlamps and small individual trees that are just beginning to go barren with autumn. the restaurants around here are still full of people.

"coffee? black, usually."

"with five or six sugars." I recall, and he turns to me. there's a dimple in his cheek that tells me he's amused by my memory.

"what about you?"

"I like an iced caramel macchiato, or just a latte." I muse. he pulls open the door to a cute corner place with a steaming mug on the logo. it must be exclusive to the neighborhood.

inside, bookshelves are crammed with used titles and people getting a late-night caffeine fix. most of them are glued to laptop screens or flipping through books. it smells warm and delicious.

"do you know what you want?" he asks, drawing me from my observations. I realize that I've been looking everywhere but at the actual menu. it's drawn in curvy chalk.

"yes." I step forward and the barista behind the register smiles at me. I order my favorite drink and am about to ask my co-worker what he wants, but Spencer cuts me off by ordering and then paying for me. I raise my eyebrows as he hands over the crumpled dollar bills, pleasantly surprised.

when we go to wait for our drinks, he shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn't say anything.

"that's not fair." I frown.

"what's not fair?" his voice is distracted.

"I invited you-- I should have paid for both of us."

"it's okay." he gives me a tight-lipped smile. I find myself taking a step close and poking his arm.

"you're so polite."

"thank you." he doesn't know what to do with this information and it partly amuses me.

"so, I know you're from Nevada, but that's pretty much all of my Spencer Reid knowledge." I oh-so-gracefully segue into the topic. our coffees show up on the counter and we grab them before finding an empty table towards the back of the shop. it's in both of our first instincts to seek out the corner spots.

"well, I--" he starts, but then I remember something else.

"and I'm fully aware of your IQ and plethora of degrees, so don't give me that trivia information." I tease. he's looking down at the lid of his coffee. his eyelids are the color of something slightly bruised, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

"what else is there to know?"

"everything." I grin, my elbows resting on the tabletop. it's a small surface, so much so that even leaning forward a little bit gives off an air of intimacy that makes me hesitant. "we're spending a lot of time together, so you might as well tell me about you."

"I'm really not very interesting." it's an easy way to dodge questions and I don't want to push him too hard or scare him away. I just want to be friends, and that can be kind of hard when I don't know the first thing about him.

"I'll start then, if you'd like." I propose with a smirk. he nods and swallows, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing.

"well, I was born in Atlanta, but I grew up in Montana. my family still lives there, though. I'm a big fan of the Real Housewives of Atlanta, I'm a scorpio sun, and I hate mushrooms." I fight a smile as I list random facts about myself in an attempt to get him to relax. I'm not hoping for him to divulge his biggest life traumas; there's no pressure.

it works. his high cheekbones poke out a little as he hides a smile behind his drink. my eyebrow quirks at his reaction.

"okay, now you have to go!" I prod. he puts his coffee down, though he fidgets with the sleeve on the cup.

"I guess I'm technically a Scorpio, too." he concedes.

"what? no." I almost laugh at the prospect. at first take, he doesn't really align.

"yes."

"what's your moon sign?" I narrow my eyes.

"I'm not sure, actually." this seems to frustrate him almost as much as it surprises me.

"you'll need to find that out if you want to understand your chart better." I shrug, leaning back in my seat. he fixes his gaze on my face as he tries to read the seriousness of my words. I'm only partly joking.

"what's your problem with mushrooms?" he asks instead, prompting my eyes to widen.

"don't get me started!" this time, I lean my elbows on the table. "I just don't like the thought of eating a fungus. and the texture--"

"what about milk, though?" he asks suddenly. I pause, mouth still open as I think on this.

"what about it?"

"is it weird to you that people drink cow milk in the same way that it's weird to eat fungi?"

"I suppose not." my brows draw together.

"lots of things humans do are 'weird'." he puts the word in air-quotes and it brings a smile to my lips.

"you're opinionated, aren't you?" I tilt my head a bit. this side of Spencer is new to me.

"mushrooms are rich in various nutrients and have been consistently used across time and cultures for medicinal purposes-- not to mention the burgeoning therapy treatments now in development with micro-dosing psilocybin." he replies. I giggle.

"big on shrooms?"

"what? no, I--" he gets a little flustered, shifting his sitting position and getting a rosy tint to his cheeks.

"I'm just joking, Reid." I set my palm flat against the table, something of a truce between us. he runs a hand through his hair. I move on. "I think the psilocybin research is actually really fascinating."

"isn't it?" Spencer's features appear somewhat ghostly under the café lights. he's got a sort of unusual face, although that isn't a bad thing at all. it's interesting.

he begins to talk about depression treatments that are being developed from shrooms, gesticulating wildly. his watch glints on his sleeve as he speaks. I notice the pretty arch of his eyebrows and the way he speaks through a grin. his voice has got a soothing quality to it, each word an individually selected puzzle piece. it's clear, low, and a bit filled with a childlike passion.

I rest my chin on my palm as he rambles, occasionally drinking my coffee and adding in my own thoughts. I think that Spencer could go for days if I let him, that he could talk enough to fill the pages of those books on the wall.

I'm not sure how long we sit in the café-- it could be an hour or three. we jump from medicine to philosophy to his obsession with Medieval literature. this, being something I know almost nothing about, intrigues me.

"my mom was actually a professor of it, so she read a lot of those books to me as a kid." he tells me, not even stumbling over the word was. either she died when he was young or she isn't dead at all-- there is no loss in the weight of this fact. I don't ask about it, but I pocket the piece away for later.

"explains the chivalry." I joke. he frowns.

"sorry?"

"your manners."

"oh," he blushes slightly. "she's always romanticized it, I think."

the change in tense tells me she must not have passed. I run my fingertip over the rim of my drink.

"does she live back in Vegas?" I hope it isn't too invasive.

"yeah, she does," his eyes flit between the tabletop and my face. "she, um, lives in a sanitarium."

his willingness to confide this almost takes me visibly aback. he seemed so hesitant to share personal details earlier this evening; something in my chest warms.

"oh," my voice is thick in my throat. I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

"it's fine." it's not, but I get not wanting to dive into it.

my intentions really weren't to prod at something that obviously is close to his heart, so I sit a bit straighter in my seat and look around the shop. we're the last people here, the only other sounds from the two baristas and the whir of machinery.

"are you-- do you wanna head out?" I ask. part of me feels no desire to leave. we probably should. it's getting late and I never know how much sleep I'm going to get. the hours for this job aren't steady by any definition of the word.

"sure."

when my head turns back from peering around the café, he's staring at me. I smile, stand up and push my chair in. he follows, both of us throwing our empty cups away before heading out.

it's much colder. a slight shudder runs through my body as we step into the night. involuntary, but Spencer falters a moment on the pavement.

"uh," he clumsily shrugs off his cardigan. "sorry." hands the thing to me.

my cheeks flush in surprise. his awkwardness is contagious, apparently.

nevertheless, I wrap the thing around my shoulders and feel a little better. it's warm. we keep walking in silence back to the car, my head now filling with thoughts that I can't quite sift through.

he's a very nice boy. I start to feel grateful that my craving for caffeine has given me the opportunity to get to know him better. when I glance at him for a second, his head ducking beneath a low-hanging branch of one of the sidewalk trees, he catches me and offers a ghost of a smile.

baby spencer is such a sub I literally can't--

[dearcupidcandy]

My Dear Demon

FEM READER X OVERHAUL

💞Art doesn’t belong to me~ All credit goes to the owners! Just thought they’d help with the visual!💞

AU:

(Takes place in a My Hero Academia x Demon slayer world)

Makes it more complicated but fun :D

Important background for the story before this all goes down:

You decided to go to the store with your boyfriend, Kai, since you started cooking and didn’t have enough ingredients. You forgot you cut your finger with a knife. You turned around in the alley to see your boyfriend who turned into a demon(his bird demon self) he took a huge bite out of the middle of your body and was too overwhelmed to try to think reasonably in his demon form. Someone from the demon slayer corps was called right away without your knowledge.

Warning: CONTAINS A LOT OF BLOOD

He stood above his angel’s corpse. She was bleeding out. But that angel’s last concern as her lover’s demon form hovered above he looked like a giant crow. that had unhinged its jaw at the full potential. His mask still on him with long black strings that stayed outside as blood leaked through them. The scene looked like this demon crown was trying to peck at a worm. His teeth filled with blood as it dripped back onto it’s victim. His amber eyes swelling with tears as his mouth remained open. He had a purple feathery neck while the rest of his body had wings and flowy brown locks that rested on his head. He was disgusted with himself. He was always careful to not let his demon side take control. He had every restraint ready for the moment he needed blood. But was a kiss on their Now last date really how it ends? He cries as his mouth opens wider as his teeth become more visible. Dripping with his angel’s blood.

His teeth grow sharper and the rests of his feathery body around his beloved as demon slayers appear before him. Warned by his neighbors since they had somehow seen it take place in the alleyway. “Your fine, Angel.” I won’t allow anything les-.”He was interrupted by his angel. “Kai.... just live for me....” His eyes widened in shock as he grabbed onto me tighter. Trying not to worry me more with his expression. If he wasn’t tending to you at the moment. He would have killed everyone who even dared try to “save you” from h i m.

Zenitsu Agatsuma. Appeared in front of him. “L-let her go!” He quivered through his words. “I...I- I!!” Ze-Zenitsu Agatsuma will slay y-you!” His sword shook back and forth. Trying to threaten him. But wings wrapped around her bloody body. He held you for a moment. Not letting you say a word. “I love you (Y/n.)” Thank you for always...being with me....”Even though his mouth has sharp teeth. His lips touched yours in a bloody embrace. Due to his demon form. He could consume the blood from your mouth. You both gasped out. His deeper as he placed you back on the soft grass. He stared at the one with the yellow hair and his worried expression made him an easy target. He came at Zenitsu with all his force. Unfortunately he wasn’t alone. A girl with something like a barrier in her mouth smelled like him but she was trying to get her out of his grasp as he grabbed her with his wing and widened his mouth. Ready to take a bite of his own kind. He shook and tightened more but due to the girl’s claws. She was out of his grasp and he had bruises on both wings. Even some blood marks. Nezuko picked you up and jumped over to her other teammates. This enraged Chisaki more, and he chased after her with all his might. “YOU BRAT-!” He called out as hissing echoed. “GIVE HER BACK TO ME!” He reached out angrily and his once calm amber eyes had the intent to kill. “GIVE ME BACK (Y/n)!”

His voice sounded like a mixture of anger and sadness. Like his will was breaking with each parting space he had away from his angel. His anger was at it’s limit as he saw Nezuko caress your (h/c) locks and how your (e/c) eyes seemed to weakened and rest while she ran. How dare you have any comfort in this. How dare you find comfort in anyone other than him.

“Nezuko! Bring her here!” A boy with hanafuda earrings calls out the girl with fangs. Her speed allows her to glide fast and follow the orders. But before she can. Chisaki snaps. He goes into a full rage, and strikes the bright pinked eyed girl right in the back with his wings. Using his quirk to heal the blood wounds and attack at full force. You fell on the ground. Now wide awake. But unable to move. It seems like your bleeding had worsened. Now you were bleeding out more than before. But all you wanted was to go back home with Kai, and figure things out. Nezuko falls to the ground. Followed by the hanafuda earrings guy to rush over. Zenitsu panicked and went to make sure his precious Nezuko was okay.

Overhaul turned back to his darling on the grass. “Y/n.” He spoke. His voice not sounding like his usual self. “My dear...My angel, (Y/n)....” He said. Gently stroking your head. His voice broke into parts and he eventually lost control and took his now claws and held you close to him. Putting you in a tight hug as his demon from fades and you were in his arms once more. Facing his back. He put your head on his shoulders. Making sure you didn’t move. He could heal you. But before he could even take off his gloves. You grabbed his hand. Almost barely missing it, and held his blood covered chin closer to yours. Your (e/c) orbs shined as tears fell. Not for your sake. But for his. Tears fell more from his sullen amber eyes. “All- All you have to do is tell them-.” You open your eyes periodically. You go wide eyed. Unable to move since the pain in your chest and the blood pouring out is too much to bear. He sees your struggle and tightens his grip more. Your eyes meet and he begins to flood his vision once more.”I’m sorry....(Y/n).... I should have controlled myself better.....”

You both looked into each other’s eyes calmly. Admiring how loving you both were. “I love you.....” you spoke. Making his eyes tilt down. Making him remember just how much you were his weakness. The only thing that helped him forget his real form. You both looked at each other and exchanged words of love. “I’ll love you forever...only me....”You nodded in joy as you exchanged kisses and held each other as you both forget about the demon slayers around you.

You started again. Ignoring the chaos around you. ”My love.... He stood up. You still hanging in his arms. “Will you stay with me....even if this happens again?” You were silent. He stared at you. Waiting for his response. “I love you Kai....I always will.” You were heartbroken he’d even have to ask that. You loved Kai, and you always wanted to be with him. Demon or not. Once again. A grin appeared from his face. He wiped the blood forming on your mouth. “I’ll fix you angel....” He used one hand to hold onto you and used his mouth to pull off his glove. “Thank you, Kai- I-“ He reached for your open wound. Before a knife appeared through his chest.

Your love’s eyes widened. He was sliced in the back. He dropped you and fell to the floor. Your bleeding worsened as you dragged yourself towards Kai. Holding onto his bare hand as his shaking pupils didn’t leave yours. You didn’t even have a chance to say your goodbyes. As your boyfriend grabbed onto your hand. His bare hand and just smiled. “Just be happy... Angel...”Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Nezuko. Just stared as he vanished. Not used to how you treated him. You were crying by his side as he faded away. Tears never ending as your screamed out his name. If he was alive. He would have been overjoyed as well. You placed your forehead on his, and your tears went at the same pace as you both said you byes. Nothing you could do now anyways.

“You’ll always be my precious....*cough* angel.” He chuckled. Unable to wipe the tears. You laughed as you put his fading dissinagrating forehead onto yours.

“You dummy.” You laughed through the waterfall appearing on your faave. You’ll always be my dear demon.” Chisaki wishes he could have seen you with a smile for his last moments. But in the end. He knew you would never be the same without him. But he was just happy to get to have you with him while he faded. You both laughed in unison as the demon slayers backed away. It was better this way.... better... this way...

You lied to yourself that day. You may for the rest of your life, as you payed the demon slayers to go away. For their murder. But you couldn’t even began to describe the emotions you felt.

‘I’m f i n e.” You said through gritted teeth before the one named Tanjiro could even offer to help you off as Kai finally faded off. Leaving nothing but his jacket and gloves behind. You put on his jacket and placed his gloves on. Oh how annoyed he would be if he ever had seen you do that. ‘How u n s a n i t a r y angel.’ You mocked his voice in your head before turning back to the ones who had done their jobs. But had hurt their customer in the process.

As you payed them for their service. Just to get them to leave you forever. You faked a smile and watched them off. They smiled back. Not being phased by who they had just killed without asking. The one named Tanjiro patted your back and told you that you can find happiness again. You wound was healed thanks to them. But you just faked a smile and saw them off. Turning back to where the deed was done. Wondering now. What was next for you. While you walked down to the other side of the alley. You couldn’t help but let a few drops leave your eyes and you did nothing but stare down at the concrete and mutter to yourself.

“ I miss you, Kai....” I’d gladly bleed out again for you... just to have you with me...” You felt a breeze go through the jacket and you turned around slightly. Wanting it to be a sign. You saw shoes appear before you in the alley way. Coming out from the door that lead to inside the Shie Hassaikai. A man turned around and dusted off his black suit. He froze as he saw you in a very familiar jacket. You stared at him as he just peered down from the stairs. You saw a smirk under his back face mask as he leaned on the railing. “Very stylish.... wonder who you got it from?”

You paused for a moment. Stiffening in your spot as you looked up at him. Tears suddenly releasing from your eyes faster. Blurring your vision as he got closer to you.

“K-K- K-Kai?”

✨❤️Thank you for reading!!❤️✨

Might make a part 2 :p

[moonsofmars-writes]

The seed of a promise

Fandom: 七つの大罪 - 鈴木央 | Nanatsu no Taizai | The Seven Deadly Sins - Suzuki Nakaba (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Diane & Fairy King Harlequin Characters: Fairy King Harlequin, Diane, Ludociel, Gerheade, Helbram, Elaine Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, War, Death, Blood and Injury, Nothing is graphic, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Hopeful Ending, Pre-Relationship

Summary: In a world where the Holy War didn’t end with Elizabeth and Meliodas, where Mael never became Estarossa, a final battle has just been fought.

The Holy War is finally over.

As the victors gather and the vanquished are chased and finished, the young Fairy King tries to find a way to prevent yet another tragedy - and ends up finding an ally in an unexpected place.

Notes: I've been wondering for a while what would have happened if Gowther's plan hadn't worked and Demons and Goddesses had kept fighting and this is what I managed to come up with! Since it's me, King and Diane are also here - with a whole lot of drama.

Please, enjoy!

There is blood on his hands and his clothes, on his wings and his hair. It makes his jacket heavy and his skin unpleasantly slick. Harlequin can’t bring himself to care right now.

The battle is over, yet he keeps flying over the field, eyes darting from a corpse to the other, studying the survivors as they make their way through the craters and bodies that cover the ground. Most of them walk silently, looking around as if they just woke up from a dream; others are frantic and turn their heads left and right, calling out names and getting no answer.

Harlequin doesn’t call but still searches. The knot in his stomach starts loosening only when he finally catches a glimpse of Elaine on the ground, standing among some human soldiers, alive and apparently unarmed. He is too distant to see her expression when she looks up at him, but he can read her heart as she can read his and what he reads is relief and exhaustion and grief. Later, when they’ll be home, they’ll find each other to whisper words of loss and comfort, or maybe they’ll just rest together, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand, as they did when they were younger. Right now, they both have other matters to take care of.

Minutes later, Helbram waves at him, a tired grin on his face. He is floating over the remains of a burned tree surrounded by a group of Fairies, to whom he soon returns to give orders. Harlequin doesn’t approach them and heads forward, feeling relieved that his best friend is fine. He knows he can leave this part to him; after all, Helbram has been his first in command for years. He knows perfectly how to handle the aftermath of a battle.

Gerheade is the next. His advisor looks tired, there is a cut on her cheek and bruises on her left arm, but the purple blood staining her dress isn’t hers. “We are still not sure about the number,” she says after a quick bow. They have done this countless times before, and she knows exactly what he wants to know. “For now, the reports indicate that more than five hundred have fallen. The wounded we have found are being taken care of by the Goddesses. I’ll personally check how many won’t be able to fly back on their own.”

Harlequin nods, clasping his hands behind his back. More than five hundred have died today. He expected a high number, considering that they have battled for hours; he still feels sick. More than five hundred Fairies won’t return to the Fairy King’s Forest alive, five hundred people who trusted him, followed him, and he failed to protect. Deep down, he knows it could have gone worse. If they had lost this battle, he doubts many would have left the field alive, and their home would have been next. Had they lost here, his entire Clan would have eventually been wiped away by the enemy.

Still. Five hundred. He swallows hard and sighs, “Give the order to gather the bodies. We are taking them home.”

Gerheade frowns, a question on her lips, but she holds it back when she meets his eyes. “As you wish, my king.” They have never collected such a large amount of bodies from the battlefield, and it will take hours to find them all and bring them back to the Fairy King’s Forest. It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t protect them, but this doesn’t mean he will abandon them. They deserve this, at least.

His next task is a little more bothersome but necessary. Tomorrow morning there will be an official meeting for the leaders of Stigma, but he doesn’t want to leave before checking on the Goddesses.

Read on AO3

As he flies, Harlequin’s gaze turns to the east. That’s where the Demons came from, where the Demon King opened a portal from the Demon Realm to bring most of his army to Britannia. He is fairly sure that the portal collapsed when the Demon King died, destroyed by the hand of the Supreme Deity; still, many Demons flew in that direction when they realized the battle was lost as if in a last attempt to save their life. That’s where the Goddesses warriors have followed them, too.

In the distance, Harlequin can see figures battling in the air, he can see smoke rising from the ground and flashes of light against the darkening blue of the sky. Inside, he feels nothing but exhaustion. Driven by the euphoria following their victory, some Fairies have tried to chase after the Demons too, yelling menaces and obscenities. He stopped them, of course. He has no rule over the other Clans, but he does over his people and he decided that today, no other Fairy will die and no other Fairy will kill.

Briefly, he wonders if there are still Giants standing with the Demons. So many kept fighting until the very end, even after their leader Matrona was killed, but it’s hard to believe that not even one gave up to fear and tried to save themselves at last. As he stares at the fight that still consumes in the distance, Harlequin feels as his bowels have turned into stone. Even if they had tried to escape, they are probably being killed right now. And all of that, because the Giant Clan chose to side with the Demons.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, so he decides to push it away and focus on his task. There is nothing he can do for the Giants right now. And at least, even though he knows he is being selfish, he is relieved he doesn’t sense her power over there. Perhaps it’s because she is already dead, but right now, Harlequin allows himself to hope.

He finds Ludociel hovering high in the sky, giving orders to a small group of Goddesses. “Ah, Fairy King,” he welcomes him with his usual smile, gesturing at his soldiers to go. Some bow and fly away, others stay close, hands tight around their weapons, watching carefully their surroundings. Ludociel’s guards. Stigma’s victory has been overwhelming today, but they are obviously not going to let their guard down anytime soon.

Ludociel pays no attention to them as he turns towards Harlequin. There are stains of dirt and dry blood on his feathers, yet his cape is immaculate, so white it hurts his eyes; he probably changed it as soon as the battle was over. “I see your army is preparing to retreat.”

“My people need rest,” Harlequin says, eyes wandering over the few Goddesses around them, over their tattered clothes and bruised skin. “As does yours.”

“We will get to it,” Ludociel dismisses the problem with a wave of his hand. “As soon as our enemies are gone for good.”

There is something in his tone that makes Harlequin’s hands twitch. “Most of the Demon warriors have died today,” he says slowly, “The Demon King is gone. All his Commandments are gone.” He took some of them down himself. Even the Demon King’s son fell, overpowered by the magic of the Archangels. “Isn’t it enough?”

Ludociel hums. “The most of the work is done, undoubtedly. However, we can’t know for sure how many Demons are left in the Demon Realm unless we don’t verify.” His voice is sweet as honey, it clashes unpleasantly with the cold implication of his sentence.

“We both know that the ones left in the Demon Realm are mostly civilians, Ludociel. Will you slaughter them too? Even the ones who cannot fight? Even their children?”

There is a moment of pause, as Ludociel studies him, tilting his head, his expression unchanged. “We will do what’s necessary,” he finally says. “We don’t want anything like this to happen again, don’t we?”

It takes an effort not to react to the veiled threat in his words, but Harlequin knows this game well; he won’t offer Ludociel anything, especially not a sign of weakness. “What about the Giants?” He asks instead.

Ludociel paints regret in his expression like a skilful painter. “They will be taken care of too. They are traitors, and as such they will be considered.” He slightly shakes his head, “Such a shame, don’t you think?”

This time, Harlequin doesn't hold back. “I don’t think it’s wise to pursue them more. They have lost many lives today, and they lost their chief. They will not be a threat anytime soon.”

“Ah, still nostalgic of the times they were our allies, young king?”

“I just believe,” he answers coldly, “that the relationships among our Clans will run more smoothly if they’ll see us show mercy. The Giants they left behind today are but their youngsters and mothers with children - they knew this battle was decisive. Are you truly planning to exterminate them all?”

“What I’m planning to do is to find them and ensure that we won’t get another unpleasant surprise. Stigma will decide about their fate.” The Archangel shakes his head again, and this time a faint smile appears on his lips. “You are too young to remember clearly about their treason, I’m afraid. We won’t show their warriors more mercy than what they showed us, and about the others … there is time, now. The humans will want to have their say too.”

There is no point in discussing this now. Harlequin feels the gaze of the other Goddesses on him, the resolution radiating from Ludociel’s heart, and suddenly, he feels incredibly exhausted. “Very well,” is what he forces out of his mouth, “We will speak about this tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” Ludociel hums before looking away, as to imply that Harlequin is dismissed. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, both physical and emotional, but this time his arrogance doesn’t touch the Fairy King. He leaves without another word and flies down, towards the scarred ground.

Giant, Fairy, Demon and Goddesses’ magic destroyed this plain. Rocky spurs rise wrapped in vines among still fuming craters, and wherever his eyes can reach hundreds, thousands of bodies are scattered. Harlequin would want to look away, for once. He is so tired of death.

And that’s exactly why he forces himself to keep looking. He is tired of death, and he won’t let anyone else die in this war if he can help it. He already looked before, but now he has to make sure that her body isn’t among the fallen. Could have she fled? It hurts to realize that he can’t be sure she didn’t. The person he needs right now, the person who could help him prevent another bloodshed, inhabits his memories as the ghost of a gentle child who offered him friendship when life was easier and Fairies and Giants were allies. Even though he has seen her later, again and again, on too many battlefields, the first image that comes to his mind when he thinks of her is from their past.

Eyes shining in the light of dusk, a finger raised to make a vow.

“We will be friends forever! Like Drole and Gloxinia!”

Warmth tinges his cheeks with red as he raises his finger too.

“We will. I promise!”

He is rewarded with a bright smile that outshines the sun itself.

The smile on Harlequin’s face is now bitter. It didn’t last long, their promise - the promise of two kids from two different clans that thought that war could never harm them. After all, Gloxinia used to tell him that the Fairies and the Giants had been close for centuries, that their bond would have never faded. He also used to smile and tell him not to worry about him when he left for a battle because he was the king of the Fairies and he would have always come back to his people.

Gloxinia had been wrong about many things.

They had died together, he and Drole, the king of Giants, during a battle so dreadful that Fairies and Goddesses still refused to talk about it. They had died and they had left their Clans in chaos, one lost without a guide and the other thrown in the hands of a young Fairy with too little knowledge of the world outside his forest. As new Fairy King, Harlequin had chosen to remain loyal to the Stigma and the Fairies had followed him, while the Giants had forged a new alliance, one with the monster who was able to defeat their king in combat. The Demon King himself. It was usual for the Giants to follow the strongest, but this didn’t make their betrayal less hurtful.

Harlequin had come to terms with it years before, but he had been unable to forget about his promise to the young Giant girl who had been his best friend when their Clans were allies and he was nothing more than a simple Fairy Gloxinia had taken under his wing. When he saw her again, after years of training and clashes, she was a warrior under the direct command of Matrona, and she danced ballets of death and destruction.

He could never bring himself to face her. He focused on other enemies, turning his back on her, hoping that she would do the same. Even though they had been enemies way longer than they had been friends, he couldn’t help but fear the day he would have found her dead body on the battlefield. She was a tie to a past he missed terribly, a tie he simply didn’t want to cut because once gone, it would have been lost forever.

Until now, she survived, and there is a part of him that refuses to give up just yet. It takes effort to use his magic after he used so much for the battle, but he grits his teeth and flies faster, trying to detect any sign of her power. Even a crumble would be enough, to at least tell him that she lives.

Long minutes later, as he flies over a small crater that seems to brim with corpses, he halts in mid-air; it wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known what to look for, but there is a presence - distant, feeble, like a spark among ashes. Harlequin turns his head towards the wood that skirts the battlefield at North. It hasn’t been spared by the battle, not completely, but many trees are still standing. It wouldn’t be a bad place to hide.

After ensuring that no one is watching him, Harlequin flies lower, swerving among the debris, and fastly approaches the wood, following the trace of magic. It becomes stronger as he enters the tree lines, and with it, his heart pounds faster and his bowels knot. That’s when the traces of blood appear, with the obvious signs of someone passing among these branches, breaking the frail wood. From there, it’s not hard to find her.

When he finally sees her, she is lying with her back against a tree, the broken handle of a war hammer in her hand. Her eyes are on him as soon as he emerges from the branches, studying him from under dirty brown hair. Her expression hardens, but she stays still, waiting for him to reach her.

It’s not that bad, he thinks as he examines her injuries while slowly flying towards her. Her left leg seems to be broken and her face is scratched and swollen, and fresh blood soaks her clothes coming from dozens of cuts on her arms and shoulders, but she is a Giant and he saw Giants survive way worse than this. The thought doesn’t stop his heart from sinking in his gut. He can’t leave her like this.

He halts mere feet from her, distant enough not to make her feel threatened - or so he hopes - but close enough to speak with her. But as her violet eyes bury into his soul, he finds himself at a loss of words. Here is the child who used to play tag with him, who smiled when he gave her flowers and danced with him in the bright days of summer. Here is the child who told him she loathed violence so much she would have rather abandoned her own Clan than fight this war. The child who would have wanted to use her dance to build, rather than to destroy. He would have liked to live in a world where her wish had come true.

“Have you come to finish me?”

Her voice, weak but firm, feels cold as ice on his skin. His expression doesn’t change, though - he has been practising his self-control for too long to let it slip, how deep her words wound him.

Not once in the past years, when they saw each other on the battlefield, she has shown a sign of recognizing her childhood friend, and still now that they are finally facing each other, her expression is a mask of stone and mistrust. Has she really forgotten about him? Does she truly believe he would go after her just to kill her?

“I haven’t,” he hurries to answer as he lifts his hand; when the green light of Pollen Garden surrounds her, the Giant hisses and pulls back, pressing her back against the trunk, then freezes and watches with wide eyes as the luminescent pollen rains over her, closing her wounds and welding her bones. When she returns her gaze on him, it’s filled with wonder and confusion.

“The Goddesses are chasing the warriors who fled the battlefield,” Harlequin says, “but they won’t attack the Giants who didn’t participate, not today.” With another movement of his hand, his Spirit Spear disappears. “You should be able to come back to your home before them. Matrona is dead, but you were her second in command. They will follow you, and you have to take them away. Leave Megadozer and hide somewhere until the Goddesses and the Humans’ bloodthirst has quenched. This war lasted far too long and too many have been hurt. Even though I don’t think they all are willing to harm civilians, the situation could easily escalate, and I doubt that I … that anyone would be able to stop it.”

Her eyes darken but she nods. She knows as well they won’t make it easy for the Giants. Slowly, she stands, until her face is at the same level as his, her stare fixed on him. There’s a part of Harlequin that is tempted to use his heart reading powers to know what she is thinking now, but as usual, he suppresses it. Heart reading is as natural as breathing for him and helped him so many times, but it can be a double-edged sword. Besides, they aren’t fighting - it would be rude .

“Why are you doing this?”

He should expect her next question, but it still floors him, leaving him silent and still as he thinks about the right words to use.

“The Giants betrayed you,” she insists. “We killed so many among the Fairies. And yet you are here, helping me, giving me the chance to help my people. I want to know why.”

He hesitates another moment before speaking, staring back into her eyes. “I have never wanted to see the Giants annihilated, and I’m tired of slaughters. Our Clans hurt each other enough and you don’t pose a threat for us anymore. I hope that under your guidance, the Giants will follow a new path, one that will allow them to coexist with the other Clans again, once the wounds this war left will start to heal.”

“My guidance? Have you seen me?” He is taken aback by the bitterness in her voice. “There is so much blood on my hands. I’m no more than a murder, Fairy King. What makes you think that I will make the Giant follow the path of peace?”

“Because you never wanted this.” The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them, and they are met by shock flourishing on her face. With a sigh, Harlequin continues, folding his hands in front of him not to move them nervously. “You don’t take pleasure from fighting and killing, nor you have reasons to continue this war. We all have done what we had to, Diane, and we all will answer to the consequences by ourselves. But I believe that now that you have the chance to do what’s right, you will take it.”

She gasps at the mention of her name and watches him in awe. He expects her to question him now, to yell at him to get out of her head, as they all do when they think he is reading their hearts. But again, she surprises him. “You … you remember me,” she whispers, covering her mouth with a hand. “Don’t you, Harlequin?”

Breath stops in his throat. “I - of course I do, how could have I forgotten? You were my best friend.” He swallows, his hands clenching around each other. “I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“I thought you didn’t remember me!” She shakes her head, “I spent years stuck in Megadozer, training for the war, hoping that when they’d let me out, I could at least see you again. But the first time I met you on the battlefield, you didn’t even look at me. You never even tried to talk to me.”

“I kept my distance because I didn’t want us to be forced to fight. I couldn’t have brought myself to hurt you,” he admits.

“I couldn’t have either, I wouldn’t have. I thought you didn’t recognize me - or you simply didn’t remember me.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “You didn’t say anything either. I thought it had simply been too long since we were friends. Besides, I ... changed quite a bit, since then.”

Diane raises a brown, examining him. “You’ll have to do way more than growing a pair of wings for me not to recognize you.”

Harlequin can’t stop an astounded laugh, “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” she snorts. “Though … I didn’t expect the hair.” For the first time since forever, he sees her lips curve into a smile. It’s surprising, how much he missed it. “No,” she continues, shaking her head, “I was afraid of what would have happened if I had confronted you. It’s not just your appearance, your entire attitude changed since we were kids. I thought that even if I had reminded you about our friendship, I couldn’t be sure about your reaction. You could have not cared about it anyway.”

“Diane, I’m so sorry. If I had known, I …” Truth to be told, he isn’t sure what he would have done. Reconnected with her? While they were on the opposite sides of a war? There was no way it would have worked smoothly.

“I’m sorry too,” she says softly, “I’ve missed you.”

A shiver travels through his body. “And I, you.” There is so much he would want to ask, so much he would want to tell her. She is Diane, his best friend, yet she has changed so much and he thinks he would want to know better the person she became. But there is no time. The sun is going to set soon. “If you want to go home, you should go now,” he says quietly, “Before someone finds us.”

She heaves a sigh and nods, looking down. “I know,” she says as sadness obscures the light in her eyes. “They’ll be waiting for news.”

As are the Fairies he left in the safety of the Fairy King’s Forest. Harlequin will have to do the same himself, later; he will have to look at his people and tell them about the losses they suffered today. There have been so many battles in this bloody war, but this part never got easier. “I’m sorry,” he says again, even though he isn’t sure what he is apologizing for. “If things were different, I’d want you to come with me. I would be able to keep you safe in the Fairy Realm, not even the Supreme Deity can come there without my permission. But …”

“I can’t leave the others behind,” Diane finishes, shaking her head. “I’ll find a way to keep everyone safe. Thank you, Harlequin. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.”

“I do.”

Her stunned expression would be funny if it wasn’t for the way her body tenses and her hand clenches around the remains of her hammer. A few minutes of reconciliation can’t cancel years of war, he bitterly thinks as he hurries to explain, “I want things to change between our Clans. I know it will be difficult and things will probably never be like they were before, but I want us to stop fighting and to be on good terms, at least. And I hope you can help me with this.”

It takes her some moments to answer. “I’d like that, too,” she admits. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to change their minds. Giants are raised to be warriors, and fighting for our honour is supposed to be our reason to live. Some will want revenge. But … I’ll try to - I'll find a way. I won’t let them throw their lives away like this and I won’t let them stain their hands with blood”. Something new shines in her eyes when she looks at him, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” he answers, letting a relieved smile curve his lips. “And I promise you that I’ll do the same. No harm will come to you from my people, as long as I breathe.”

This is so different from the promise they made each other so long ago - for once, they do not seal it with their pinkies - yet he can’t help but feel a little bit nostalgic; there is something in Diane’s expression that makes him believe she feels it too. There is no time to evoke images of a past long gone, though, and so she nods and moves away, her walk as swift as before the battle.

Before she disappears between the trees, she turns around one last time to look at him. It’s hard to read the mix of emotion in her eyes, but despite the curiosity, Harlequin avoids reading her heart. He smiles, instead. And she smiles back, just for a moment.

Then, she is gone.

When Harlequin comes back to the battlefield, his Fairies have been gathered and are working on finding a way to bring the bodies of their fallen back home. Humans are going back to their settlement, and in the distance, he sees a few Goddesses preparing to return to the Celestial Realm. The air is still filled with anguish and mourning, but something else smoulders in the hearts of the survivors, a sense of excitement that Harlequin knows will rise to the surface tonight, when celebrations will be held all around Britannia. If just for a few hours, people will try to forget about what the future holds for them, to finally allow themselves to live free of the shadow of the war.

As he lands among the Fairies, as he solemnly nods to their tired bows, Harlequin wonders when he will be able to do the same. For others, the war is over, but he knows his allies too well to think the peace after this war will be easy. If Diane manages to hide her people away, Ludociel won’t be happy, nor will the human kings. They will want answers and will search the entire country for them.

But there is something that makes the morrow look a little bit easier; it’s the promise of a different future, the seed of an agreement he just planted alongside with a Giant girl.

So Harlequin holds his head up and breathes in deeply, feeling like part of the weight on his shoulders has been finally lifted; then, he gets ready to lead his people home.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 31

Masterlist

----

It takes the Seraphim hours to bury the dead. There is not enough wood for a pyre, so Drakon decides to have the dead buried. A few of his soldiers look at him strangely, but to his knowledge, most humans don`t care about Fae religions or rituals. Hardly any of them believe in gods or an afterlife the way the Fae do, so it makes little difference to them if their bodies get burned or buried.

The hours blend together, as do the faces of the dead. Drakon does his best to memorize them, but it`s a futile task. But there are, of course, the soldiers he knows. Many of them, after spending years together in a camp. Body after body, each mutilated in a different way. Hundreds of corpses lying in a hole in the ground. Just this morning, they were still people – laughing, making plans for a future they would never have.

Drakon has to pause his work thrice to stumble behind a boulder and throw up. His hands are shaking, but he refuses to stop his work. He owes that much to the dead.

When the last body has been cleaned away, the last grave dug, Drakon surveys the burned remains of their camp and decides that, even though the sun has long since set, there is no way they can spent the night here. How could anyone sleep on this burned ground that is still stained with the blood of their dead friends?

So, in spite of the late hour, they pack their things and fly half an hour further west where they set up their camp by a river. Miryam, who looks dead on her feet, sets up a quick perimeter of wards then returns to Jurian, who hasn`t said or done anything since they found him kneeling between his dead soldiers. Drakon wishes he could do anything to help, but as it stands, all he can do is get his soldiers settled.

It is long past midnight when most of them have vanished into the makeshift tents they erected from whatever they could save from their ruined camp. Drakon doesn`t feel like sleeping, so he sits down in front of a lonely camp fire near the centre of the camp. The images of the dead humans keep drifting through his mind. He knows all too well what their last hours must have felt like.

Soft steps sound behind him and Miryam sits down on the ground next to him. Her dark hair is tangled and there`s ash smeared over the left side of her face. She looks completely drained.

“How is he?”, Drakon asks, putting up a sound shield around them.

Miryam shrugs. “I gave him something to help him sleep. He should be out until morning.”

Drakon nods. He knows that sedating Jurian will not stop the pain for him, just delay it. But at least he`ll get a small reprieve.

“And you?”, he asks.

“I can deal with it. It`s worse for Jurian, he knew them longer.”

Drakon has to supress a sigh. That reply is so utterly typical. “You`re allowed to be upset, you know. Just because someone else has is worse doesn`t mean you aren`t allowed to feel the way you do.”

“How do you feel, then?”, Miryam asks, “Since you also knew them.”

Could her diversion be any more obvious? “I can`t close my eyes without seeing their corpses. Whenever I`m not imagining what their last minutes must have felt like, I keep thinking that we might have been able to prevent this if we hadn`t been so stupid.“ He sighs. “I also threw up. Thrice. And I`m scared to go to bed because I know I`ll have nightmares.” He looks at Miryam. “Your turn.”

“I don`t want to talk about it.”

Drakon honestly has no idea how often he`s heard that of her. Usually, he lets her sort it out with Jurian, who is a bit better at getting her to talk. But this time, Jurian is busy and Drakon doesn`t think that letting Miryam stew over her feelings alone is a good idea.

“Talking is important”, he says and hopes that he doesn`t sound overly preachy. “If you always shove your feelings down, you`ll combust eventually.”

Miryam snorts softly. “Who cares?” She picks up a pebble and throws it into the dark. “There`s no way we`re getting out of this alive, anyways.”

Drakon blinks at her. That`s the most pessimistic he ever heard her. “That`s not true”, he says softly and reaches out and puts a hand on her arm.

“Yes, it is!” She jumps to her feet, brushing his hand away as she does. “We`re already dying – bit by bit, every day.” She makes a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Even if we win, even if we don`t all get killed… Do you really think we`ll just ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after when this is over?” She shakes her head. “There`s no getting back from this. Not in a hundred years.”

She lost hope, Drakon realizes. Miryam may still believe in freedom for her people, and be ready to fight for it, but she lost hope for herself. He refuses to accept that.

“Come on”, he says and gets up. “I want to show you something.”

“No, I-“

“Trust me.”

Miryam doesn`t look convinced, but she follows him out of the camp. Unfortunately, his idea to get out of the camp alone runs into difficulties. Namely the three guards trailing them. Normally, their presence hardly bothers Drakon, but in the sleeping camp, their presence stands out and destroys any illusion of privacy.

Drakon stops walking and waves the guards over. All three of them bow, and the leader, a round-faced female named Yani, asks, “How can we help you, your Highness.”

“Lady Miryam and I would like some privacy”, Drakon says. He doesn`t add that he asked her to call him by his name more times than he can count already.

Yani exchanges a look with her colleagues. “Forgive me, your Highness”, she says, “But General Sinna gave us strict orders not to leave you alone.”

Drakon knows. When he first became Prince, it was easy to slip away from his guards – if there were any around – but since his time in the Black Land, Sinna drastically increased security.

“You work for me, though”, he says. “We`ll be back within two hours.”

Drakon pretends he doesn`t notice that his guards have to consider his orders first before they fall back. As soon as they are out of the wards` perimeter, Drakon holds out a hand to Miryam.

When she hesitates, he says, “You set up the wards. If anything happens, we`ll be back within seconds.”

Miryam sighs and takes the offered hand.

----

Drakon winnows them to a field just outside of a medium-sized human city. He tugs his wings tightly to his body and leads Miryam towards the gate. The guards squint suspiciously at Drakon, but relax when they see Miryam`s mostly human features.

“What are we doing here?”, Miryam asks softly when the guards have waved them through.

The village doesn`t seem like anything out of the ordinary. Miryam cannot imagine why Drakon would take her here. She`s too drained to care much, though. It`s like someone cut a tether connecting her to the world. She should be furious, or sad, or desperate, but she just feels empty. Except for the power that keeps thrumming through her, only barely controllable anymore.

“I want to show you something”, Drakon says.

Miryam lets him take her by the arm and lead her through the streets towards the town`s centre. She barely notices where they are going until the sound of music makes her perk up. They round a corner and basically stumble into a street festival. Music and laughter fill the air and in the centre of a square, people are dancing in pairs. Miryam stares at the scene, unable to quite process what she`s seeing.

“Look”, Drakon says and nudges Miryam closer. “There are still people who are alive out there. There are people who are dancing and laughing and living. This is what we`re fighting for and we haven`t lost yet.”

Miryam looks away. She can`t take this. There are cracks forming in her composure and she fears that if she loses control now, she won`t be able to regain control over her powers. Her hands open and close frantically at her side.

“And we are alive as well”, Drakon continues, “We are alive and I promise that when this is all over, you`ll also get to dance on the street, or do whatever else you want for your life.”

Miryam`s shoulders begin to shake and she quickly wipes the tears away. The music still sounds, people are still dancing. Humans living in freedom. Drakon pulls his arms around her and pulls her close to him. Miryam digs her fingers into his jacket. She is crying so hard her entire body shakes now, and she thinks if it wasn`t for Drakon holding her, she might just get swept away.

Eventually, the tears stop. Miryam carefully lets go of Drakon. She wipes her tears away and straightens. Her face feels puffed up and her throat is sore, but the pressure inside of her has become almost bearable.

“Thank you”, she whispers, “I think I needed that.”

“I think we can stay for a bit. If you want to.”

Of course she wants to. She never wants to go back. That is not possible, she knows, but at least they`ll get a small reprieve. Miryam nods and follows Drakon, who keeps his wings tucked in tightly to his body, towards the celebration. Her eyes flicker over the laughing, happy people. They seem surprisingly unbothered by the Fae in their midst.

“How did you know to come here?”, Miryam asks.

“My soldiers like to go here on their days off. They told me.”

Without needing to talk about it, they decide not to join the dancing, so they end up standing next to a small booth that sells drinks. A human man presses two cups into their hands

“Oh, thank you.” Drakon reaches for his pouch to pay for the drinks, but the man waves him off.

“First drink is free for Alliance soldiers”, he says, “Besides, you two look like you could use it.” He vanishes in the crowd, leaving Drakon looking unhappily at his still-full pouch.

Miryam, on the other hand, notices the ash staining their clothes. She sighs. They must look like they crawled straight out of a grave. She tries to brush the ash off her clothes, but only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Hopeless”, she mutters.

“At least that way, we don`t need to worry about being recognized”, Drakon says with eternal optimism.

They find a bench at the edge of the dancing floor and sit down on it. They aren`t part of the celebration, not really, just spectators. They might as well be in a different world as those people.

Drakon drains his cup quickly, then puts it on the ground next to him. Miryam only takes a sip from her cup, then winces. Horrible.

“I hate alcohol.” She takes another sip, winces again and hands the cup to Drakon. “It tastes terrible, and it makes you lose control over yourself.”

“I believe the latter is part of the charm for most people.” Drakon takes a sip from Miryam`s cup.

She snorts. “Like you need to worry about getting drunk from this.”

To be fair, Miryam as a half-Fae doesn`t get drunk very quickly either. But the mere possibility of getting drunk is enough to completely ruin alcohol for her. Losing control is horrifying, she doesn`t understand why anyone would risk it for fun.

“I still can`t believe it”, Drakon whispers.

Miryam nods without taking her eyes off the dancing people. Don`t think about it. Think about these people who never watched their friends get murdered. Next to her, Drakon starts drumming a quick rhythm on the edge of the bank. He looks upset.

“So”, Miryam says, voice shaking slightly. She desperately fumbles for a different subject. Only one thing comes to her mind. “You should probably talk to Sinna. Your soldiers can`t take her word over yours.”

Drakon makes a face at her, but at least his tapping slows. Politics may not be his favourite subject, but Miryam guesses it`s still better than the memories of their dead friends.

“Sinna is over three hundred years old and has been a soldier for most of that time. I`m not even thirty.” He shrugs. “I`d take her word over mine, too. Any smart person would.”

He generally has a point. But - “Not when they are your soldiers.  And most certainly not this publicly.”

Drakon arches an eyebrow. “So, what is it they are saying about me on the Continent that has you so worried about my public appearance? That I`m incompetent?”

“No, not that.” Miryam bites her lip. Normally, she doesn`t tell Drakon about the rumours, but right now, there seems to be no way around it. “With your essays now public, people generally believe you know what you`re talking about. But that doesn`t necessarily mean they also believe that you`re the one making decisions in Erithia. There`s quite a debate to be had on whether it`s your council, your advisors or your military who make the decisions for you, and your aren`t exactly…” She hesitates. “I`m sorry, but things like your conversation with the guards earlier don`t exactly make it seem like they are wrong.”

Drakon changes the rhythm he was drumming. “I`m not making these changes because I`m being manipulated, though”, he says. “I`m not.”

“I know that”, Miryam replies without missing a beat. When Drakon gives her a sceptic look, she adds, “Truly. You may not be very suited to international politics, but you`re brilliant at running a country. You`d notice if anyone was manipulating you about any of that.” She gives him a slight smile. “I`m more worried about your appearance. If you let people say you are being manipulates, you allow them to invalidate all the work you are doing.”

Drakon looks rather relieved at that. “So what should I do?”

“You can still listen to your advisors and generals”, Miryam says, “Believe it or not, but most rulers do. The difference is that they ask for advice quietly and then present it as their decision, while you just let other people make the choices for you.” She frowns. “Although I suggest you talk about this to whoever you pay to advise you on foreign politics, and if the answers he gives don`t match mine, have him replaced – he`s either incompetent or purposefully trying to jeopardize you.”

She supposes he could also use a bit more wariness in general when it comes to the members of his council. But she doesn`t say that. Contrary to popular belief, Drakon isn`t naïve – he`s seen far too much evil for that. He chooses to still see only the best in people, and Miryam personally sees that as a strength. She wouldn`t want him to change that.

“Seems doable”, Drakon says, then gives her a smile that only seems a little bit strained. “You certainly are good at changing the subject.” Which, of course, isn`t an attempt on his part to change the subject at all.

“I`ve got lots of practice”, she mutters, which makes Drakon huff a laugh.

They return their attention to the street festival. Now, most of the participants have taken each other by the hands and are dancing around in a huge circle.

“You ever wish we could trade places with them?”, Miryam asks softly. “Live a normal life.”

“Of course”, Drakon says. “What would you do? If it wasn`t for the war and… everything.”

“I think I`d still like to be a healer. Live in a small village. An ordinary life.” Maybe that`s what she`ll do when the war is over. If she survives. “And you?”

“I`d go back to university”, Drakon says without hesitation, “It`s wonderful there. You would like it.”

Miryam nods quietly. She allows herself to dream of the life she might have had a moment longer. But then, she thinks back to her people and straightens. “We should probably go back.”

Drakon nods and gets up. Miryam looks over her shoulder at the dancing people one last time before turning around to leave.

“I suppose you can`t have it both ways”, Drakon says softly as they walk back towards the gate. “You`re either the person dancing through the night – or you`re the one who fights so that dancing will still be possible tomorrow.”

----

When Jurian wakes up, it takes him a few blissful seconds to remember what happened. But the memories return soon enough, and when they do, he almost wishes he could take more of that sleeping tunic and fall back into oblivion. He nearly asks Miryam, who is sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, for one – after all, what does he need to be awake for now, anyways? – but then, he remembers Amarantha and Clythia. The vow he made.

He sits up too quickly and his head starts to spin. Miryam reaches out to steady him.

“Easy”, she says, “You`re safe.”

“You think I give a shit?”, Jurian snaps. His voice is hoarse and sounds off in his own ears. He pushes her arm away and stands up – with the success that he immediately falls back over.

“Give yourself a moment”, Miryam says. Her tone is still gentle.

Jurian lets himself fall back onto the blanket he was lying on. “Sorry”, he mutters.

Miryam shrugs. “I understand.”

Jurian carefully pulls himself up into a sitting position and Miryam moves closer until they are almost touching. For a while, they sit together in silence.

“When we arrived in the camp”, Miryam finally says, breaking the silence, “when we saw it destroyed, I thought…” She rubs her hands over her face. “Maybe it is selfish to say, since so many died, but I`m still happy you`re alive.”

Jurian can almost hear the questions behind her words. But how? How come you survived while everyone else died. Where were you while your soldiers got murdered?

“I wasn`t in the camp when… it happened”, Jurian says. I was meeting with Clythia behind your back. While our friends were slaughtered, I sat and ate cake with a Hybern commander.

But his tongue won`t form the words. He closes his eyes. Tell her! He needs to tell her the truth now, he owes her that much. As of yet, he hasn`t really done anything wrong in that regard – he always meant to tell her once his meeting with Clythia was over. He needs to tell her now, and everything will be fine. But he keeps imaging the look in her eyes when she hears what he was doing.

“I…”, he begins. How can things between them ever be the same again if he tells her the truth now? “I went one a ride.” The words slip out involuntarily, without his permission. “I needed a moment alone.”

His heart races. There`s no way Miryam will believe him, she is almost impossible to lie to. Why didn`t he tell the truth? She`ll find out anyways, and him trying to lie will just make it worse. He lowers his head.

Miryam gently puts her hand on his. “It wasn`t your fault”, she says, “Even if you had been there, you couldn`t have saved them. You would have just died alongside them.”

Jurian blinks, too stunned to speak. It wasn`t even that good a lie, there`s no way she fell for that. And yet… The realization hits like a knife to the gut. Miryam doesn`t catch his lie because she doesn`t even consider the possibility that he might be telling anything but the truth. After all, he never lied to her before.

He wishes she had doubted his words. That would have made it more bearable.

“I should have been there”, he whispers, voice breaking. That, at least, is true no matter what.

Miryam just wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. Jurian lets her.

He doesn`t know how long they`ve been sitting like this when the door bursts open. “Oh.” Drakon stops in the entrance.

“What do you want?”, Jurian snaps. He doesn`t know why he`s suddenly angry.

“Sorry.” Drakon lifts his hands, like in surrender. “I should have knocked.” He throws Miryam a letter. “The council wants to see you. I`d say they are asking, but it`s more of a summon.” He turns to Jurian and adds more softly, “I`m glad you`re awake. And, well, alive.”

“Because that`s the most important thing, right?” Jurian scoffs.

“I`m sorry”, Drakon repeats. “I can imagine how you must feel.”

“Oh, can you?” Jurian pushes Miryam`s arm off and climbs to his feet. “Because your soldiers didn`t get slaughtered. They weren`t even in the camp, were they?”

“Are you blaming me for what happened?”, Drakon asks softly. He still doesn`t sound angry, which just pisses Jurian off more. Drakon and his eternal kindness – doesn`t he realize that they`re at war?

“Just stating facts. Because somehow, it`s never your people who have to pay the price, is it. And if we lose this war, it won`t be your people who end up enslaved, either. You`ll get out of this perfectly fine, right? They`ll probably even let you keep your title.”

“Jur…”, Miryam whispers.

Drakon just stares at him, lips pressed into a tight line.

Jurian laughs. “Must be fun, to fight a war knowing that the results will never really affect you. One of the advantages of being Fae, I suppose.”

“Stop it!”, Miryam all but shouts and jumps to her feet. “What are you doing?” Shaking her head, she looks between Jurian and Drakon. “Isn`t it bad enough already?” Her voice shakes like she`s about to cry. “Thousands of people are dead. We`re all that`s left, and if we start to argue amongst ourselves…”

Jurian stares down at his feet. His anger evaporates, leaving him feeling drained and terrible. Not only did he lose his soldiers, now he also picked a fight with Drakon and made Miryam upset.

“Sorry”, he mutters.

“I`m sorry, too”, Drakon says, “About what happened to your soldiers – and that we weren`t there to prevent it.”

Jurian nods, and that is that. Argument settled, but not really. Miryam looks between them, frowning.

“You need to go to your meeting”, Jurian reminds her.

“Do you want me to come?”, Drakon offers.

Jurian has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something about how he doubts that would be very helpful. Damnit, what is wrong with him? It`s like all that`s left is anger, and without anywhere for it to go, he lashes out at anyone who happens to be close. He needs something to direct his anger at, or he fears he might combust and take everyone close to him down with him.

“I received intelligence about the possible location of one of Hybern`s training camps”, he says to Drakon, without really looking at him. “If we manage to find the exact location, we might be able to pay those bastards back in kind.”

----

Miryam`s formal dresses burned together with the camp, so she still wears her ash-stained tunic and pants when she goes to meet the council. She is early for the meeting and only a few of the other councilmembers are there, but they all stare at Miryam`s appearance. She ignores the looks.

Not finding a set of change clothes was a somewhat risky choice, but Miryam decides it`s fitting. Appearing in immaculate clothes after what happened in the last hours would have seemed tasteless. Miryam is just about to take her seat when a hand closes around her arm. She stiffens – she hates being touched without permission – but makes herself turn around slowly. He magic stirs, but she shoves it back down.

“My Lord”, she greets the High Lord of the Night Court.

“May I have a word, Lady Miryam?” His voice is tense and he all but drags her out of the room without waiting for a reply.

“I would appreciate”, she hisses and rips her arm out of his grip, “a little more common courtesy.”

He holds open the door to one of the smaller meeting rooms for her and lets her in with a mock bow. Miryam glares and demonstratively rubs her wrist, where his fingers are sure to leave bruises. Still, the High Lord doesn`t apologize as he closes the door behind them and sets up wards with the wave of a hand. Miryam tries very hard not to be nervous.

“We need to talk”, the High Lord says.

“If this is about Keir –“

“I know you`re planning to shift the blame for your failure on him. I would do the same, in your position. Still, I`d suggest you take a different route.”

“No.” Miryam takes back a step so that she no longer has to look up at him quite so obviously. “Over three thousand soldiers got killed in a single night, all because your commander went against Alliance directives to torture a group of enemy soldiers and then presented the information he got as sound intelligence. The blame for this lies with him, and I`ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

“How righteous of you. And how practical that this way, you shift the blame well away from yourself and your friends. Even though it was your fault as well, wasn`t it?”

Yes, it was. But that won`t be the public version. “If Keir hadn`t supplied incorrect information”, she says flatly, “none of this would have happened.”

“And if you make it public, his behaviour will fall back on me.” When Miryam only arches an eyebrow at him, he steps closer. “So don`t make it public.”

Miryam makes herself laugh. “Just like that? You argue against me in almost every meeting, and now, you expect me to do you a huge favour?”

“You don`t want me as your enemy”, he warns.

He`s standing so close now that her every instinct screams at her to run. Instead, she slowly steps back and reaches for the handle of the door. The High Lord`s wards crack under her touch and she pulls the door open.

“So you keep saying”, she says, “but the more I think about it, the more I feel like you are the one who doesn`t want me as your enemy.”

With that, she walks out of the room and towards the council chamber. There, Andromache has arrived by now. She drops all pretence when she sees Miryam and hugs her in front of the entire council.

“Are you okay?”, she asks, “Jurian? Drakon?”

“Yes.” None of them are anywhere near okay, but at least they are alive. “None of us were in the camp when it happened.”

“And I think we`d all like to know the reason for that”, Nakia says from her seat at the table.

“We received faulty information”, Miryam says, taking her seat. Then, she briefly outlines what happened yesterday, making sure to place as much blame of possible on Keir.

By the time she is finished, most of the councilmembers are frowning. Unfortunately, more than one of them seem to direct their ire at Miryam. Zeku softly shakes his head at her.

“Yet I have to wonder”, one of the Fae says, “how none of you noticed the trap.”

“We received the intelligence from the council”, Miryam replies, “We believed it had been verified and followed the orders we`d been given.”

Nakia surprises her by nodding. “No point arguing about it now”, she says gruffly. “The damage is done. I suggest we start dealing with the aftermath.”

In the end, of course, someone still has to get punished – but that someone ends up being Keir, who gets stripped of his army command. His High Lord glares at Miryam. Otherwise, it is decided that Jurian will be put in charge of training new recruits and making them into a new army. After that is settled, they mercifully decide to end the meeting.

Most of the other councilmembers don`t leave immediately, so Miryam also remains sitting for a while. She can`t vanish immediately after each meeting.

Zeku leans against the table next to her. “My condolences”, he says.

“Thank you.”

Zeku remains sitting on the table and watches her. Silently.

“Was there something else?”, Miryam asks when she has enough from his staring.

Zeku seems to consider, then shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… are you sure you know what you`re doing here, Miryam?”

She tenses. She thinks back to the warning he gave her months ago and tries not to make her worry too obvious. She must have made some kind of mistake – maybe she didn`t shift the blame for their away successfully enough. This is bad. Her standing with the council is all that gives her the power to influence where this war is going. She needs to find a way to fix this, and quickly. If she can manage, with her losing control over her magic more and more each day.

“I`m just trying to free my people”, she says softly. “That`s all I want. All I`m fighting for.”

Zeku watches her for a moment longer, then he nods and jumps off the table. “Be careful”, he tells her and walks off to join one of his Fae allies.

Miryam looks after him and tries to ignore the sinking feeling that she completely missed what he was trying to warn her about.

----

A/N: You probably already guessed it, but things are going downhill from here. There will also be another time jump between this chapter and the next. Oh, and Mor will play a larger role again in the next arc. I haven't forgotten about her, her pov just didn't fit into this arc.

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things @clolikescloquetas

[pettyelves]

three’s a crowd

[Hostage Remix]

A trip to the Darkmoon Faire was spent absently watching Aydri and Shaedoril in the beginnings of a love story. In clashing competitions, and sharing of sugar-coated treats, the Kaldorei were a smart match. 

Mirin and Zelphryin did not share romantic competition, little gifts or giggles between them. They shared. Simply. An understanding. He walked a half pace behind her and she a pace behind Aydri and Shaedoril up the path to the sage who gave out slips of paper filled with fortunes.

“To seek a diviner’s advice is to invite another into your mind,” Zelphryin said, when Aydri and Shae persisted that he get a fortune. Mirin found them interesting-- not for magical services, but the way they seemed to know the subtle cues and codes in people’s words and eyes. 

An enemy of your past will soon become an ally. 

Read the fortune given to Mirin’s slender fingers. She had thought this fortune was one steamy shower too late. Zelphryin spent the remainder of his time making subtle remarks aimed at Aydri, propositions meant to ruffle Shaedoril’s feathers as much as her own. Before he left, he’d spent a child up to Mirin with a note that said only: 

Provocation.

In Stormwind, Zelphryin warned Mirin that if he came to finish what they had started two nights before in the bathhouse-- she would have to share. It had surprised him to know that she was open to such a proposition. 

From the top floor of the Astral Rise, Mirin’s balcony was situated just so that she could see across to his door. Even so late at night-- no visitor. She was dressed in a sheer gown, short heels, and stockings that fell mid-thigh and the final item was a coat that covered all of it.

She knocked on the door a single time. Though she guessed that he must have strolled leisurely though the hall to greet her. In her hand, she held up the uneaten truffle. "I had the thought to share," she said, dipping her head back to look up at him. "Miss Mirin," he said with a grin and opened the door wider to allow her in. "How generous, truly, but I am afraid the evenings main event has cold feet. I was just about to head out the Cock and Candle. You are welcome to a accompany, of course. All expenses paid."

The way he called her Miss raked her stomach in a way that she could not decide. It punched her pride, but pulled something much lower in her toward him. Provocation.  "Lady," she corrected and moved forward. "No," she said, "I do not think that is on the agenda for this evening." Tonight, she boldly placed her hand on his chest and pressed him backward. Not hard, but enough so that she might enter and the door left to shut behind her.

 "Take me to your bedroom," it was another even demand.

By the belt of her coat, he walked her backward-- pleased or at the very least intrigued by her boldness. The room itself was modern but largely inconsequential as Mirin’s goal was the bed. A dresser cabinet, a second dresser, a decorative lounge chair, two night stands and a very large framed bed. The particular sheet design was not like anything sold in Dead Sun. It was painstakingly quilted by hand with what looked like small thin beads of actual gold used to embellish its patterning. And so many... many pillows.

“You may want to turn down that very well-crafted cover, Zelphryin,” she said, pulling herself from of her coat. "I assure you Miss Mirin, the ruin of this gold comforter should be the least of concerns," his jacket was abandoned more quickly, hands gripping her flesh-- kisses hard against her lips. When her back hit the bed she hissed out a final correction, “Lady.”

They dove into one another in a manner that was slow and firm, greedy. Another understanding that violent indulgence was most certainly part of whatever their unspoken agreement had become. 

Rounds in, he had just lifted her up into her life and pressed hard kiss against her collar. So distracted, neither heard the first knock at the door.

"Maybe our other participant has had a change of heart,” Zelphryin offered, with slight irritation."Perhaps the first lesson to learn her will be punctuality." She let herself fall back into the many pillows, a smirk at him as he collected himself. 

He withdrew from her slowly, collected his dress pants from off the floor. He used the sweat on his brow to smooth back his hair and hemomancy played its own minor role in aiding to compose himself by the time he reached  his front door to open it.

 Eventually she managed to stand to look in a mirror and clean herself, mostly attending to her hair. From her position, she could stare straight down the hall to the dirty-blonde human woman that shyly offered Zelphryin chocolates.The two of them locked eyes at a distance, but Zelphryin spoke, “I fear your lateness has caused you to miss both appetizer and entree...But it appears that your timing is spot on for dessert."

"L-late? Oh I suppose, I just didn't..want to arrive too early. Who is that?" She asked. Her skin. Her whole body was cold to the touch, emitting none of the heat Zelphryin did. "Shouldn't we..have introductions. W-wine and dessert?" The name given at the registry was Leigh Groves, and Zelphryin led her right too Mirin’s grasp. 

"That,"  The hand on her waist drifted further to the front of her commoner's dress where he tugged loose the thin corded tie that allowed it to fit slightly more figure friendly. "Is my assistant, Miss Mirin. She is going to help you dress appropriately for the occasion while I retrieve you that glass of wine."

"He means Lady," Mirin said, unabashedly leaning to clean the bottom of her lip stain."While I am not his assistant, I will help you dress." She gestured, "I suggest you sew or purchase a black dress. A tight one. It should suit your..budget and black dresses are very easily mistaken for expensive." Mirin's fingers were more delicate than Zelphryin's, when she wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Since you've not brought a dress," she said, leaning to the woman's ear, "Let us hope what is underneath will suffice." Mirin noticed just then, how cold the woman's cheek was against hers. "Did you come in from the snow?" There was silence in the next room. 

Something churned in Mirin’s stomach.Dread. Doubt. A warning?

“You are so lovely," she said, rubbing her freezing face into Mirin's chest. Mirin froze up at this sudden display of clinging. 

"So  I have been told," Mirin said, a raised brow as she watched her place clumsy, cold kisses down to the sigil tattoo on her lower chest bone. "Do you have Lord Shol'Shar's eyes, Lady Mirin?" The blonde asked as she rubbed the skin of her cheek against Mirin's beige skin. Mirin's eyes went wide. A moment where every alarm bell in her body began ringing. The woman's face raised to look at Mirin, eyes milky and skin paling. A single word came from the woman’s lips: 

“Break.”

Almost in tandum, a firm but calm toned Zelphryin said, “Mirin~” She answered, just as calm, “I know.” The truffles within the chocolate box, popped like eggs, hosting slugs from the witch Morrigan. 

In seconds, Zelphryin’s shadows twisted from the ceiling as chains to bind the corpse-proxy in place. Mirin pushed away from the woman, just before the chains descended, but it was not in time to stop the second spell. 

“Swarm,” came a voice that was not Leigh's, out of her mouth-- and immediately followed by a mouth full of swarming flies that crashed into Mirin's face. The chains wrapped up the attacker and her head swung around limply. "Show us. Show us!" She gurgled out. 

Mirin swatted and flailed against the flies that crashed against her face like a wave. So fixed on killing the proxy, Zelphryin had not noticed the slug burrowing into his ankle. He crossed through the room around them and pulled a bone dagger from a box on his dresser and rammed into the corpse’s head. 

Mirin felt the pressure on her mind and she staggered out of her heels toward Zelphryin. The rune on her chest began to pulsate with an old and dark magic. It was likely she was fighting the control.

As Mirin staggered towards him, his face remained mostly shielded from view by a curtain of black hair. In those short seconds it appeared as though he had redeemed control as the hand on the side of his head fell away and reached out to her invitingly. The tips of his fingers walked along and around the bare skin of her waist, drawing her comfortingly towards him and into his side as he peeled himself up into a stand. A sensual touch of his other hand started up her arm and the angle of his head made it seem as though he were inspecting her for injury. Until he looked up at her face.

Amber eyes had been swallowed by a blackness pitcher than a starless night and black veins reached out from around them across his face in a spiderwebbing pattern. As they locked with her's, both hands snapped around her tender throat. Driving his thumbs up into the tender gap of her hollow.He was far stronger than he looked.

Mirin was not hurt physically, so much as she was suffering from a massive migraine in one side of her head. Inside of her head, there was a game of cat and mouse. What her attacker didn't realize, yet was Mirin was a very clever mouse.

Talking wasn't easy, she started with inaudible whispers to ask if he was alright. Her hand fell on his bare skin and she struggled to main her eyes from changing. After all, some secrets were better left between them. She let out a shaking 'mmm' as though his touch relieved her. Relief that was short lived.

When he gripped, Mirin's eyes opened wider than was natural an audible choke. Her instinct was to try and pry his hands from her neck, but physical strength was not her suit. Slowly, her pupils shifted. Black bars that were not unlike the eye's of a goat. "Zelphryin," she mouthed it, but had no air to say it. Her fingers clawed at him, but when she realized that her attacker-- both the proxy, and the one in her head were in position. She snapped her trap.

The rune on her chest ignited with dark magic and practically burned on her skin with shadows. A hand reached clumsily cover his eyes and she threw her shadow at him with the utmost vigor. It was not unlike the connect they had first shared in his kitchen. Mirin's voice spoke a strange spell that came, from her mind to his-- but was likely aimed at the one that pressed on them both.

“Witness the Infinite”

[@kurel-andiel​ for Zelphryin @revthepunchbear​ for Shae @moonbaki​ for Aydri @shaded-hawke​ for Part II ]

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 5

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU Belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A stranger has been found in the forests of Edolas, unconscious and unanswering to the questions the Edolas Hermits have. Who is he, and why does he look like a friend they lost long ago? Why is he so badly wounded? Why does he have a broken clock? 

Why has the ocean stopped taking Zed and Tango’s wishes?

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Part five is my favorite part- I’ll tell you that. Finally reaching edolas, and getting to have fun with the wacky characters that Red has come up with! And, since Edolas is a world of opposite hermits, we decided that yes- Jellie is a dog. A good girl. 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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“Jellie! Come here girl!” Scar whistles, clapping his hands together as he continues along the dirt trail through the forests of Edolas. Tall, cozy spruce trees offer a fresh pine scent, the detritus beneath Scar’s shoes a tangle of soft needles and bark. The dark wood offers a muted, calming sensation for Scar. 

Jellie barks off in the distance, but doesn’t return to her owner’s side. That’s unusual...Jellie almost always comes when called. The only time she doesn’t is when food is on her mind. Scar hops off the path, following the barking through the winding maze of trees. He picks up the pace as Jellie’s barks turn into a whine. 

“What’s wrong, pretty lady?” Scar whispers as soon as he spots the dark coated dog. Scar’s next sentence falters in his throat as he sees the body. Face down in the dirt, surrounded by stones, an unmoving figure lays. White bandages, fraying and bloody, wrap around his arm. Brown, wispy hair is dirty with grass and mud, caking down the remnants of a white buttonup shirt. Black trousers are torn and covered with dirt, one leg bloody both on the fabric and skin. In one hand, a busted clock is still firmly held onto- even with the person obviously not conscious or even alive. Scar sighs. “Xisuma needs to stop dumping bodies in the woods.” 

Scar reaches out to pull Jellie away from the corpse, but she plants her paws into the dirt and refuses to leave the side of the person. It’s not until Scar is forced to get closer that he realizes why- it’s not a corpse. He’s still breathing. Holy shit he’s still alive. Scar begins to panic, unsure who to turn to. This isn’t exactly his expertise, dealing with something like this. Who is? 

Scar calls the only person he can think of at this moment in time. Cub. He starts to pace around the clearing, too afraid to get close to the body. Jellie stays near instead, laying her head gently on the boy’s back. Keeping his body warm, her fur comforting. Finally, after 3 times going to voicemail, Cub picks up the phone. “Is everything alright, buddy?” 

“No, everything isn’t ‘alright’. Things are super fucking weird, Cub.” Scar can’t help but snap, looking back at the form still laying in the dirt. “I...I found something.” 

“Something? What kind of something?” Cub’s voice is calm and soothing, a fatherly tone that Scar has come to rely on so much. 

“I...it’s a person. He’s still alive, but...I dunno, I think this is some sort of cult thing. He’s wearing some really nice trousers and shirt, but they’re torn to hell and back. He’s got bandages, and surrounded by rocks and theres a clock and…” Scar doesn’t know what else to say. This is too odd, too much for him all to take in. 

“Take a deep breath, Scar. I’ll get some others to come out, and we’ll take a look at what you found. Just...make sure he stays alive.” Cub hangs up, leaving Scar to the silence of the forest and the occasional whimper of Jellie. The boy’s chest continues to rise and fall, but Scar doesn’t dare reach out and push him onto his back. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t far from the others. Cub, Keralis, and Bdubs appear in the clearing, all stopping dead as they see the body. Bdubs shrinks behind the others, peeking over Keralis’s shoulder. “Oh my god…” 

Cub stoops low, taking a gentle hold of the boy’s unharmed arm and checking his vitals. His pulse is steady. “Let’s get this kid to the infirmary. Looks like he needs it.”

Keralis helps Cub gather the boy in his arms. Scar can’t help but watch with Bdubs, both a little too shocked as the others roll over the body and see his face. It’s covered in dirt, caked with sweat and a little bit of blood. But it looks exactly like the face of a person they thought was long gone. No, that’s not right. It’s just coincidence, people look the same all the time. Scar won’t entertain that idea any further. They just need to focus on getting to the infirmary.

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

Wind blusters across the sea, white capped waves pounding against Zedaph and Tango’s bare legs. Behind them, sand whips and scratches at anyone who dares to be in it’s path. 

But no amount of wind, not hell or high water will stop the duo from their daily ritual. When even Zed’s beliefs change, this is still constant. A tradition, no matter what else is going on around them. Tango’s elegant, cursive writing is slipped into the clear glass bottle that Zed had brought. Tango opens a single, white feathered wing to protect his friend from the angry sand behind them, daring to blister their skin from the beach. He stays silent as Zed whispers out the same wish every single day. “Please, bring him back.” 

Salty tears fall from Zed’s eyes, mixing with the ocean around them, just another drop in the sea awash with their pain. They’ve been doing this for years, but every time it still feels as fresh as the day they lost him. Zed caps the bottle, and throws it out with all his might. Beyond the angry turmoil of the surf. 

The two remain ankle deep in the ocean, silent and staring. Searching for some sign, any sign that their prayers have been answered. They know it’s impossible, but they still do it. They saw him sink, trapped in the ropes and sails. A gentle smile as he assured them everything would be alright. 

But it’s not alright. Tango and Zed are without their best friend, left with a hole in both their hearts. A bed empty in their shared apartment. Zed rubs his tearstained face into Tango’s shoulder, comforted only by his large white wings as they wrap around Zed. The two are about to return to shore, until Zed feels something brush up against his foot. 

The bottle. It returned to them. Zed picks it back up, and throws the bottle again. Beyond the surf once more. “No, no. You go out to sea.” 

“It’s never done that before.” Tango breathes. He feels sick to his stomach as the bottle returns again, carried on the white waves back to rest at his feet. He stoops low, plucking the bottle as it brushes against his legs. It has to go out to sea. Every single time Impulse showed them this tradition, he said the sea would take their wish. And grant it. He takes off, flying well past the waves, dropping the bottle into the sea. 

But by the time he returns to Zedaph, the bottle is back in his friend’s hands. Zed’s anger grows, grabbing the glass bottle. What was once something the two teased to Impulse, was now their only lifeline, their only way to process and grieve his loss. “Take the fucking wish!” Zed screams, reeling back and throwing the bottle as far as he can. He stumbles into the sea, collapsing to his hands and knees. “Take the god damn wish and give us our friend back!” 

Tango pulls Zed back to his feet, careful to be sure he doesn’t get a mouthful of water and drown. Drown like Impulse did. Zed’s cries turn into quiet prayers, angry curses at the gods who won’t listen and desperate pleas to those that will. Wishing for a miracle they know will never happen, but still desperately beg for. 

The two retreat, grabbing their shoes and rolling their pants back down. Fighting the heavy wind and stinging sand, neither look back. Because they know it’s sitting there again. Spit back out by the ocean. 

It’s a quiet walk back to the guild, back to town. It always is quiet, both lost in thoughts and memories. Of easier days, warmer days. When the sun was warmer and shone through their best friend’s smile. When laughter filled their apartment so loud that their neighbors- even Cleo- would yell back for them to shut up. 

Zed is the first to notice that things are busy with the guild. Joe nearly knocks Tango over, running to the infirmary with a handful of bandages. Zedaph looks at Tango, both sharing confused looks, before following after the mercenary. Inside the infirmary, most of their friends are there too. Talking in small groups, trading information in whispers and passing papers. 

Tango grabs Mumbo as he makes his way towards the exit, fingers wrapping into the leather of Mumbo’s jacket. “Mumbo...what’s going on?” 

Mumbo turns, smoothing out his mustache and hair. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem at all frazzled. “Eh, Scar found a body out in the forest- turns out the body is still working. Now they’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Stuff way beyond my capacity, dude.” 

“A person?” Zed echoes, frowning. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Yeah… though he kinda reminds me of Impulse. Looks exactly like him.” 

Zed and Tango share shocked glances, and Tango immediately lets go of Mumbo as they sprint past the others, ignoring the shouts. Mumbo simply shrugs, walking out and sauntering to the nearest bar. Not the strangest thing to happen to him. 

"Should've known you two would come." Cub states as the two barge into the room. 

"Is it really him?" Zed's voice betrays his disbelief. He wants it to be true, for all those gods he's dedicated himself to finally be answering his prayers. Tango flutters closer, peeking around the blinds to see.

"I...I truly doubt its Impulse. He just looks like him." Cub sighs, watching the hope on the two's faces collapse. They creep closer all the same, getting a good look at the stranger in the hospital bed.

Dark brown hair, wispy and unruly, frames a pale and weak face. Even unconscious, the stranger's brows are furrowed together as if he's thinking through some complex problem. He's wearing a torn up white shirt, the buttons lost or in the wrong hole and the tail of the shirt untucked. His hips and legs disappear under the bed's covers, but one foot has been pulled out. White bandages wrap around his ankle, spots of red slowly growing. 

And then there's his arm. Opposite of the arm that the stranger's IV is protruding from, red and black catch the pair's attention. Underneath a slick coat of medicinal salve, angry red skin and dark burns surround a series of letters and numbers tattooed under the skin. Zed points to the arm opposite of him. "What is all that?"

"We...aren't really sure." Ren whispers, setting his quill down from taking notes. "Scar thinks its some kind of cult thing, Xisuma says maybe an experiment of sorts. But without him awake, we won't be able to tell for sure."

But while Zed is focused on the tattoo, Tango can't take his eyes off of the stranger's neck. Black, blue, and purple marks ring  around the skin, the surrounding area inflamed. The bruises are tight against the person's neck, nestled at the juncture of jaw to spine. Right on his trachea. 

Cub notices Tango’s gaze. "Someone else did that, poor kid. Someone tried to kill him. And nearly succeeded."

For Tango and Zed, its like seeing a ghost. It looks exactly like Impulse, from his hair all the way to the dirt under his fingernails. But it can't be true. This isn't really Impulse. Just someone who looks like him. But how much they both want it to be real.

Tango looks up, seeing fluorescent light glinting off of something on the bed stand. It’s not like anything else in the infirmary- dirty brass against the sterile white and silver of the room. Tango flits over the bed, picking up the item. It’s dented, with the clock face ripped open. Trapped at twilight hour, not quite daylight and not quite nighttime. “Was this with him?” 

Cub nods. “I don’t know why, but he wouldn’t let go of it. Even unconscious, we had to pry his fingers off it.” 

Zed peeks over Tango’s shoulder and wings, violet eyes taking in the damage. It’s quite broken- but not destroyed. The two look at each other, then the stranger, and finally the clock. “We… let’s see if we can do something with this.”

[wherearemyglassesbro]

The DNR au executions in order ✨ Dont read if it’ll make you uncomfortable :)

Murder #1: Alfred Jones is the first to kill. He’s overcome with the feeling of helplessness and can’t mentally handle being there. When Kumakuma gave everyone their first disguised motive, Alfred was pushed over the edge. His ‘motivation tape’ was a video of his parents’ farmhouse burning. It still isn’t clear if it was faked or real but that video hit Alfred like a ton of bricks. He kept up his cheery facade and decided to wait to make his move despite being desperate. He watched his classmates closely, just waiting to see weakness in them. He wouldnt go after a girl or someone bigger than him...He finally decided on Kiku. He was soft spoken and kept to himself so....He’d be easy to get to!! Around 3am, Alfred snuck out of his room and down the hall, knocking on Kiku’s door “Hey buddy uh....Look man I’m having trouble sleeping and I wanted to walk around a bit. Would you come with me? I don’t think it’s safe to walk around alone and I trust you”. Kiku is flattered and he agrees to walk around with Al. Little does he know, Alfred’s got a kitchen knife tucked into his jacket. They walk and walk, Alfreds getting fidgety. Kiku’s confused by his behavior but he understands that this place can make you feel jittery. They arrive at the second floor gate “Ok Alfred-san I think we should head back from here. I’m pretty tired, arent you-?” Alfred throws him against the gate, knocking the wind out of him which gives Al enough time to retrieve his knife and bury it into Kiku’s chest “I-I’m so sorry....I’m so fucking sorry...I don’t want this...I didn’t want to have to do this...But I need to get out of here....” he arranged Kiku’s body to make it look like he stabbed himself and runs away. Halfway back to his room he realizes that his shoes are bloody!! Shit!! So he takes them off to run the rest of the way back in his socks. He washes off his shoes and wears that same pair the next morning when everyone meets up for breakfast. Everyone realized that Kiku was gone way faste than Al expected and they split up into two groups to go find him......”Ding dong dong ding”....”A body has been discovered!!” And it begins.

Execution #1: Cannonball. Alfred Jones has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Gamer, Kiku Honda, is one final stunt! One exclusive show for his classmates! He’s the first to go so everybody buckle up! Alfred is stuffed into a Monokuma cannon! Wowie! The cannon is aimed at a huge target allllll the way across the room. The target is about a football field away. The canon starts to rumble...it gets louder and louder...Everyones freaking out!! And then, the floor opens! And Alfred is shot into a murky pool full of piranhas! Canonball!! His classmates are forced to stand and watch until there’s nothing left of their friend.

Murder #2: Tension rises after Alfred’s trial and execution because that was everyone’s brutal wake up call. This is very real. This is a game theyre forced to play. Kumakuma provides another motive only hours after the trial, calling everyone to the gym to present a stack of money! 20 million dollars to be exact! This is supposed to bribe the greedy ones into killing. Luciana Vargas begins to get cocky. She and Natalya start fighting. And I mean fighting. They scream, throw shit, all that! The others have to intervene most of the time too. It’s getting out of hand. And Nat can’t take it anymore!! Luciana likes to do her laundry at night so Natalya sneaks up on her...very quiet...She’s not wearing shoes, not even breathing as she approaches. And it’s all to easy. She snatched up a scarf and threw it around Luciana’s neck, brutally strangling her and whispering in her ear as she took her final breaths “You bitch...you slimy, nasty, fucking whore...I hate you...I hate you I hate you! I feel no remorse...You snake...You evil, cocky bitch...” The last thing Luciana sees is Natalya’s smiling face. Once she’s dead, Nat stuffs Luciana’s corpse into the washing machine and leaves. It takes three days for her to be discovered....Ding dong dong sing....and when she is, she’s discovered by Michelle of all people. Michelle faints and hits her head super hard on the ground, which makes this an even bigger ordeal. Everyone suspects Nat from the start since the two were fighting so much and the evidence all leads to her anyway. Luciana managed to rip out a few of Nat’s hairs so those were found at the scene....

Execution #2: Eye Of The Beholder. Natalya Braginskya has been found guilty! Time for her punishment! Her punishment for killing The Ultimate Designer, Luciana Vargas, is to face off against 10,000 bees! Natalya is placed in a giant glass bubble which is teetering on a ledge shaped like a hand. Bees are quickly pumped into the sphere! As Natalya struggles while shes being brutally stung, she makes the glass ball shift too much! And in doing so, she and the bees fall to their deaths, the glass ball crashing into the floor 4 stories below! She was beautiful! And her death made sure she would no longer be. Or...no longer...’bee’

Murder #3: it’s almost three weeks after Nat’s trial and none of the motives are working. Kumakuma has presented six motives and everyone has decided to stick to their friedship. That just won’t do. Kumakuma then decides to dig deep into everyone’s pasts, finding their darkest secrets. He slips a folder under everyone’s door...The secrets cause Francis to snap. He can’t take this anymore. Kumakuma is going to release his darkest secrets to the media in 48 hours if someone doesn’t kill. Oh god oh god oh no...Francis’s folder if full of secrets. He slept with a director, gave another actor food poisoning to take his role, drove over a coworker’s leg with a gold cart so they couldn’t perform, all sorts of awful things that he did to secure his career. Things that his poor mother didn’t know. That his sister didn’t know. No one was supposed to know any of this but...him. He couldn’t allow this to get out! This would wreck his family!!! He calmed himself down enough to draft a plan. He wrote out his entire murder plan from start to finish. It was foolproof. (Spoiler alert, it wasn’t). He caught Arthur in the hall as everyone was heading off to their rooms after dinner and guided him away where no one would see, sneaking him into the bath house. It was all coming together...This was going to work...Francis is the ultimate actor of course! He’s been working on Arthur from day one, flirting with him and being nice. He had a feeling that Arthur’s loyalty would come in handy!! Now it was time to put him to use. He and Art stripped and got in the hot tub, Fran made conversation and then offered to wash Art’s hair. Of course Art complied....Then Francis did what he had to do. He shoved Art’s head underwater and held him there. Art put up a good fight, he screamed and fought hard but in the end, Fran was just stronger and heavier so when he finally managed to sit on his head, it was all over for him. Francis didn’t bother arranging the body, he dried himself off and left the scene. He was very stealthy about his exit and he took the long way back to his room just to be sure. His downfall? He smelled like the soap from the bathhouse. That soap is only in the bathhouse. That was the one detail that got him. And when that detail was discovered, his cool facade started breaking, he’d never been so nervous before and even as the ultimate actor, he couldn’t mask his guilt forever.

Execution #3: The Stage Of Kings. Francis Bonnefoy has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Mathlete, Arthur Kirkland, is to put on one final performance! Francis is strapped into a chair in the middle of an ornate stage. He’s dressed as a king with the whole garb and crown. Above him are three chandeliers, one falls and hits the stage on either side of him, scaring the crap outta him and the final one lowers down....lowers down...until it’s right over his chair. And then BOOM!!! In one horrific movement, the chandelier falls on top of him and explodes!! BA BAM!! To signify the end of the performance, black and red rose petals fall from the ceiling and into the viewing area where the other students are and applause plays from the speakers.

Murder #4: Another motive has been presented. This motive is success. ‘If you kill someone and graduate, you’ll be guaranteed even more success than before. Your name will be everywhere, you’ll get many interviews and all kinds of publicity! Media coverage beyond your wildest dreams!!’. This sparked something in Berwald. Berwald has always been the rock of the group. He’s emotionally detached, intelligent and strong. He did very little in the actual trials but if he thought someone was wrong he’d say so. Berwald thought that he’d never be a suspect if he ever did commit something...All he had to do was disguise the crime scene. Plant hair. Contaminate evidence. Move things around. Anything he could to frame someone else! He had a plan. He would kill Matthias, the stupid dancer who he couldn’t stand to be around. Then he’d frame Carmen. He found a pair of the shoes she wore and took them from the supply room, keeping them for himself. It took awhile to get all of the supplies he needed. Tarps, tools from the art room, a bag of blood from the nurses office. Everything was coming together!!! This was going to work!! He could almost taste his freedom! He got too cocky. Berwald followed Matthias, who was blissfully unaware of what was happening, as he wandered around the school. He followed Matthias up to the 3rd floor and cornered him in the red room!!! But Matthias was too fast!! As Berwald went to hit him over the head, Matthias grabbed a Kumakuma bottle and smashed it over his head!! Berwald now had blood running down his face into his eyes! Matthias took this as an opportunity to snatch up another bottle, breaking that one on his head too! BAM!! After a THIRD hit to the head, Berwald fell to the ground and died. Matthias was horrified with what he had done...now he was standing in a puddle of blood, covered in Berwald’s blood...Even though this was technically self defense, he still killed him!! Oh no!!! He rifled though Berwald’s bag and managed to piece together the origional plan! He made bloody footprints with the girls shoes and dumped his own shoes (and the rest of Berwald’s bag’s contents) in hallway garbage can. Jittery and in shock, he made his way back to his room to shower. His biggest mistake was leaving a partial bloody handprint on his own doorknob.

Execution #4: ‘Dance Dance Execution!’. Matthias Kohler has been found guilty! It’s time for his punishment! His punishment for killing Berwald Ox, The Ultimate CEO, is to dance for his life! A ‘dance dance revolution’ machine is set up for everyone to see. Matthias is set up on the machine and must dance at the highest level in order to stay alive. He gets three chances, each misstep makes the machine go faster, demanding that Matthias dances faster. When he messes up the first time, buzzer rings out and strobe lights turn on. Now the his vision is obscured as he dances. The second time he messes up, he’ll hear a buzzer again and the sound of a roaring crowd is pumped into the room, making it harder for him to hear the song the machine is playing. The third time he messes up, the room goes silent, the machine stops and the lights come on all the way to reveal a giant, heavy, metal box dangling from the ceiling. The box then falls, crushing him and the ‘dance dance’ machine too.

“Murder” #5: The students have all been desperate to figure out the mystery of the school. They’ve gone to the bathhouse and student bathrooms countless times to formulate plans to sneak around. They’ve distracted Kumakuma, stolen things from different rooms, found a headmasters key tucked away in the library. They’ve been able to uncover the mystery of why there are 16 trial stands. There are 16 students. What the fuuuck???? They get ahold of Gilbert’s student file and within a day, a body is found. Ding dong dong ding!....Huh??? Everyone rushes to where they hear screams! Up on the 4th floor, slumped against the music room door is Gilbert Beilschmidt!!! The student they just discovered in the files!! His face is mutilated and a chunk of skin on his shoulder is missing. His file indicates that he has a tattoo there to commemorate his first gold medal. Everyone is now rightfully freaking out, everyone suspects eachother!! They go into the trial practically blind.

Execution....#5...?: The trial for Gilbert Beilschmidt’s murder is the most chaotic one yet. No evidence is making sense...But...One little detail. Michelle had gone to the bathroom alone that morning while everyone else was at breakfast at 7:15. And Gilbert’s death was around 7:30 so....She had plenty of time to go kil him and come back before breakfast was over at 9! After that fact came to light, everyone agreed that Michelle was the killer and...she was sentanced! Huh??? Michelle didn’t kill anyone!!! She just barely saved herself by posing the question: ‘Couldnt Gilbert have even killed by the mastermind? Not one of us?’. Everyone then quickly turned on Kumakuma, asking who controlled him. After an hour in the trial room, arguing and yelling, The real Gilbert showed himself in his true, mastermind glory! He admits to being part of the Ultimate Despair. The dead ‘Gilbert’ was just another corpse. A decoy. But the students figured him out. The trial continued long into the night as the students worked through the mysteries of the school, the tragedy, whats outside, all of it. Gilbert laughed and went along with it, encouraging despair to take over the students. “If you convict Michelle, I’ll allow you all to continue living here in peace! But if you convince me~ Well, you have to go. The second I die, the air purifiers will go off! And so will the fridges, air conditioner, water pumps, all of it! You’ll be forced to leave! Go out into that hopeless world you love so much and die there, motherfuckers~”

Execution #5: The Finale. The students all convince Gilbert, they stick together to the very end. Gilbert laughs and laughs, hitting the button to announce his own punishment. He whoops and hollers as he strides into the punishment room, happily straps himself onto a wheel with a target on it. The punishment begins! The wheel starts spinning. Slow at first then faster and faster and faster! Kumakuma robots throw knives at Mach speed, each knife hitting Gil in different places. Throughout his punishment, he laughs and hollers through the whole thing. The students think it’s worse than screams of pain....When hes dead they all get to leave....and see what’s outside...

((I hope this isn’t too rambly lmao alsoooo please don’t think I’m like....fucked up or something lmao aijssjkshdvs))

[may8344]

The Journey of a Forgotten Solider (Levi x OC)

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.1k

---

Chapter 12: Worthless Game

Levi began to move with blind rage. Attaching his hooks onto the murderous Titan’s stomach, he hurled himself forwards. Rotating himself, he sliced through the skin with a clean cut. A limp, bloodied hand fell out of the Titan’s belly.

Quickly, the ravenette firmly placed his feet on both sides of the cut and took a strong hold of the body part, yanking it out. Only half of Furlan remained intact; the other nowhere to be seen. Levi carried his fallen friend to the ground, gently resting him on the dirt. 

The four remaining Titans did not wait for him to grieve. Instead, they started stomping towards the black haired man in an attempt to eat him. The one who had killed Furlan was the first to try and reach out. 

But Levi didn’t hesitate. 

Embedding his wires into the bleeding Titan once more, he swerved around its flailing arm. With a large pump of gas, he spiraled straight towards its face, stabbing his two swords into its eyes. Unlocking his blades from the handles with the push of a switch, he jumped off and applied another pair, leaving the murderous one blinded. Within less than a minute, he took down the remaining four, slicing their napes with ease; the fourth one he killed by cutting up its arm and around its neck. 

Levi landed on the ground, not very affected by the stamina it took to deal with Titans. With a click of his tongue, he turned towards the last Titan, who couldn’t figure out how to remove the blades from its eyes. Walking towards it menacingly, the ravenette bellowed emotionlessly. “Hey. Do humans taste good?” 

With ease, he flew up to its neck and stood his ground on the Titan’s back. “Hm? Were they tasty?” His glare only grew as he shoved a blade directly in its neck. 

“Answer me.” 

[~]

Erwin and Mike made their way over to the steamed area on their horses that surrounded Levi. “It’s the steam from fallen Titans,” Erwin noted. 

“To have defeated so many at one time…” Mike thought out loud, shocked by the sight in front of him. “Was it him?”

Levi stood on top of the recently killed and steaming Titan, slowly making his way down. His blades were dulled down from the cutting, so he pushed the switch once more to release his weapons. As he walked, a small thump was felt on the front of his shoe. With wide eyes, he glanced down on what he bumped. 

It was Isabel’s severed head.

Dropping down to his knees, the ravenette’s shaky hand slowly turned it over, face up. The girl had dirt all over her face; even in her eyes. Dried blood painted her colorless skin and leaked from her neck. Unable to look at the sight, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, carefully sliding the redhead’s eyes closed. Small tears leaked from the stoic man’s eyes at the idea of being alone again. Both Furlan and Isabel had been brutally murdered in front of him, and Alana was nowhere to be found. 

“Hey! Are there any survivors out there?” Erwin’s voice cut through the air from a couple of meters away. 

Levi’s eyes darted towards the noise and his face slowly scrunched up with anger. His target had decided to come to him after all of his friends were gone. Before he knew it, Erwin had already neared him on his brown horse.

“Levi!” He called, now only a small distance away. “Are you the only one left?”

He received nothing but silence and a glare, just like when they originally met in the Underground.

“The corpses of these Titans… You did this alone?”

Not wanting to hear anymore from the blond section commander, Levi jumped up and hurled his small body towards the taller male. Successfully hooking his elbow around his target’s throat, Levi shoved his arm forwards, slamming Erwin into the mud below. Being able to balance on the horse, Levi hadn’t fallen on his face. Instead, he landed on his feet and glared down at his dirtied opponent. 

Mike immediately grabbed his weapons and hopped off of his horse, ready to attack. 

However, he was cut off by the sound of Levi’s newly embedded blade slicing through the air. “Stay back,” he threatened. 

The man complied with his demand, but kept his sword raised in case of any sudden movements. A cold sweat dripped down the side of his face, mixing with the leftover rain droplets that fell from his hair. 

Levi continued his path towards the section commander. “Erwin.” Once he was only a meter or so away, he raised his sword next to blond’s throat. A rough, low shout left his mouth, “I’m going to kill you, you bastard! That’s why I’m here!”

As both of the men stared each other down, a moment of silence was met. Erwin slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, looking down. “So they all died? I see…” Pulling out an envelope, with a red-wax stamp holding the contents inside, Erwin’s eyes met Levi’s once more. “This is what I supposedly have on Nicholas Lovof.”

Levi’s eyebrows snapped together, anger coursing through his veins. “So you knew? You knew we were after you, and yet--” 

“Unfortunately, you were too late.” Ignoring the arguing thug, Erwin continued by tossing the envelope aside. The small stamp opened and small, white papers flooded the ground. There was not a single word written on any of them. 

“Hey, what are you trying to say here?” Levi asked, his hands beginning to tremble.

“It was a bluff.” He answered straightforwardly.

“Huh?”

“I knew that Lovof was embezzling. The military funds left over from the suspension of the Survey Corps these last few years. I spread false information because I wanted definitive proof to back him into a corner.” Erwin explained. “This is Lovof we’re talking about, and he’s cautious. I thought he would make some kind of move first to confirm the existence of the documents. As I expected, he hired you three. 

“If he’d made a move then, there’d surely be some trace. Following those back, it didn’t take much time for the proof to fall into my hands. I was able to pick up on him because he made a move from his end.”

Levi clicked his tongue, losing his patience. “Knowing that much, why did you bring us into the Corps?”

“One reason was your exceptional military prowess. And another… was to use you as partners to throw off Lovof. But there’s no longer any need for that. The real documents are currently in the hands of Commander-in-Chief Zackly. It’s all over for Lovof.”

“It wasn’t… worth throwing away their lives!” Levi screamed at the section commander, anger spilling past his bared teeth. “They were nothing but pawns in your worthless game.” Slowly pulling his sword from the blond’s throat to the side, he prepared to slice down with all the strength he had left. “Well, you lose.” He swung down, hoping to decapitate his enemy.

However, that didn’t happen. Holding the blade in his strong--now bloody--grip, Erwin glared up at Levi, his own teeth clenched as well. “Worthless game? Who’s the one… who killed my subordinates or your friends? Was it me, or was it you?” Pulling the weapon away from his throat, the blond continued. “Do you think that if you had come to attack me together that the three of them would have made it out alive?”

“You’re right,” Levi quietly admitted. “It was my conceit. My damned pride is to blame…”

“No! It was the Titans!” Erwin yanked the ravenette’s sword away behind him as his face got closer and closer to Levi’s. “Where did the Titan’s come from? Why do they exist? Why do they eat people? We don’t know! We are completely ignorant.” To the silver-eyed man’s displeasure, the blond kept inching forward, voice booming. “As long as we stay ignorant, they’ll keep eating us. We’ll never turn the tables on them by staying inside the walls. 

“Look around you!” Pointing behind him, he aimed his finger towards the far, empty horizon. “In this wide open place, there are no walls, no matter how far you go. Here, there might be something to free us from our despair.” Continuing to spread his ideologies onto Levi, Erwin’s voice rose more and more. “But there are people who would keep us from leaving the walls. They stay where danger can’t reach them, obsessively thinking only of their own profits and losses.

“It’s understandable. The clouded eyes of mankind, blocked for a hundred years by the wall… they can’t see the other side. What about you, Levi? Have your eyes remained clouded?” Inevitably inches away from each other's faces, Erwin had a tint of pleading in his powerful voice. “Will you kill me and return back to the dark Underground? We won’t give up on going outside the walls. Fight with the Survey Corps, Levi! Humanity needs your skill!”

The sun was now beginning to shine brightly over the land, the clouds beginning to disperse. At this sight, Levi remembered the first breath of freedom he had shared with his friends the moment he had left the walls. The exhilaration of not being confined had flooded the four of them. The smiles of his friends. 

Levi’s blade fell from his handle, showing he wasn’t a threat, just like he had done in the Underground months prior. 

“From here on out, there’s no deal.”

[~]

“Hurry! We’re heading for the Supply Wagon Team to get dry sound grenades. We’ll reform the Corps using that point as a base.” Erwin said, riding his horse as if nothing had just taken place. 

“The Titans might become more active once the weather clears up better,” Mike added in.

“We’ll meet with the Vanguard leaders before the losses become any greater. And we’ll return alive!” Erwin declared. 

Levi turned a final glance towards where the steaming Titans laid, sprawled over the ground. But more importantly, he looked towards the last place where his friends were, now nothing more than corpses. 

Soon, just as Erwin had suggested, the trio met up with the Supply Team, who had significantly less members. “I’m relieved to see that some of you survived the storm,” he said with a small smile. “If you can, gather any stray squads and rally them here. This will be our meeting point.” The blond commanded as he hopped off of his mare and ran up to one of the wagons, digging through it to find any sound grenades left. Successfully finding a couple, he ran back to his trio and nodded. “Let’s move towards the Vanguard and rally in the rest of the squads.”

The section commander led the other two around the outside squads, trying to group the remaining soldiers back to the wagons. There were many casualties throughout the Corps, but they were successful in securing the safety of the soldiers that still were standing. “Levi,” the blond turned to the smaller male, “there should still be another squad on the right side of the Vanguard. See if you can locate them. If not, head back to the Supply Team.” 

Levi nodded and complied with his order. He led his brown horse towards the right side, where he left his fallen friends, and scanned over the horizon for the remaining squad. Across the distance, he couldn't spot a single living soldier.

Just as he was about to turn back, a distant clomping noise was made behind him. Leading his horse towards the noise, Levi attempted to find what he assumed was the stray horse, hoping there was at least one survivor. 

Nearing closer, the figure was more visible. There was the brown mare and two soldiers riding; one injured and unconscious. "Help!" The awake soldier yelped. "She's injured really badly!"

Levi pulled his horse up next to the survivors. The one who guided the horse was a boy with shaggy brown hair and bright amber colored eyes. Blood stains were present all over his uniform and he looked traumatized. With spare bandages, he had tied a wounded soldier to his back. She had long, black hair and a torn, bloody uniform. Her wounded head was wrapped with bandages along with her torso, arms, and legs. The gear that she wore was smashed against her body. On her left hand was a beaten, silver ring. 

And around her neck was a blue, tear-drop necklace.

"Alana?"

----

Thank you for reading <3

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Toum Perdit (d.s.) - 7

A/N Guilty or generous 

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

One thing my parents always taught us while we were growing up was, when traveling, to never stay at the cheapest hotel. By no means should we break the bank to stay at a five-star resort but there was usually nothing good that came out of the cheapest option. I could see what they meant as Jonah and I climbed the metal stairs of the Lincoln Motel, the white paint peeling from the handrails and the steps creaking with each footfall. Once having been on the cover of Forbes, I no longer really needed to follow that guidance that my parents engrained in us since I could afford all the five-star hotels and resorts I so desired to stay at.

I mean, to be brutally fair, dear reader, my parents also taught us not to murder our spouses; so who knew how many lessons of theirs I had ignored in my lifetime.

I triple checked that my car was locked as we reached the top of the flight of stairs and headed down the carpeted outdoor hallway. Anyone who uses carpet outside should honestly not be trusted. This place already left a bad feeling in my stomach. Would saying it gave me murder house Psycho vibes be in poor taste? Possibly? Then please disregard that statement.

Number nineteen was right in the middle of the hallway. The brass number nine was set slightly crooked on the door. I caught myself tilting my head with its direction as if I were trying to stall. I swear if the person on the other side of the door slept with my wife I…I didn’t know what I would do but the thought of it made me sick.

“Are you going to knock?” Jonah tore me from my thoughts.

I swallowed thickly, “Yeah.”

I raised my fist to the orange painted door and rapped a quick knock before taking a little step back. I habitually glanced over the railing to make sure no one was getting too close to my car.

The sound of the door creaking open had me turning back quickly to see who was on the other side. I expected a man and that’s who I was met with, simply the first glance of him making my jaw clench protectively.

He was short. Brown hair. Brown eyes. His patterned button up was undone halfway. Arms and neck littered in random tattoos. I eyed him up for a moment.

“Can I help you?” he asked, an obvious confused edge to his voice.

“Yeah, do you know an Avalon Seavey?” I pushed back at him strongly. I couldn’t help but straighten up around him just to have those few inches above him.

“Avalon? Yeah, I know her enough. Why?” he looked between Jonah and me.

I took off my sunglasses and tucked them in the collar of my shirt to see him better in the shadow of the motel balcony.

“I’m her husband.”

“Daniel.” he breathed with realization, his eyebrows raising as he stared at me.

“Yeah. Daniel. Who are you?” I asked sharply.

Jonah didn’t intervene through my anger, in fact, he looked just as concerned as I felt. I appreciated his willingness to let me have my moment to interrogate this guy.

“I’m Jack. How did you find me here?”

“I found your address in her phone.” I added.

“Oh, what a nice non-toxic relationship you have.” Jack mumbled.

“Excuse me?” I took a quick step towards him but Jonah grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“I was not sleeping with your wife if that’s what you’re here getting all macho protective douche-bag about.” Jack assured me coolly. “We had nothing more than a professional relationship.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at Jack’s unimpressed flat expression. He didn’t seem to be one to be phased by anything.

“Professional over what?” I pressed.

“Does Avalon know you’re here?” he ignored my question while he peeked around me as if to see her down the hallway or in the parking lot below.

I didn’t flinch as he looked around me. Little did he know that she was in fact right there with us.

“She’s dead.” Jonah answered.

I hadn’t realized I hadn’t replied to him for a few too many seconds but Jonah’s blunt response certainly brought be back to reality. I snapped my head towards him. Since when did we agree we were going to be telling people that?

“Oh.” Jack said flatly. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…well…I wanted to see who you were…so…” I stumbled out ungracefully, rubbing the back of my neck anxiously with one hand. I dropped it with a sigh to my side again, “We’ll be going.”

“Hang on. Come in for a second.” Jack offered, stepping to the side and pushed the door open wider to let us on. “I gotta show you something.”

Jonah and I glanced at each other briefly before silently deciding to follow him into the motel room. I peeked over my shoulder to my car down in the lot once more before stepping over the threshold.

Jack seemed to sense my hesitation as he closed the door behind us, “I won’t keep you long. A nice car like that won’t last long around here unsupervised.”

I swallowed thickly, watching him walk across the messy motel room to the closet. Jonah and I stood just inside the door and the first thing I noticed was the bright teal wallpaper that even covered the ceiling, so bright and neon it was nearly blinding and it did not match the dark red floral print carpet at all. The bed had red bedsheets and a dark mahogany headboard that was more 1960s mirror panel than wood and beside it sat a single small round table with a fold out chair and a rotary phone on top. The bathroom sink and light oak vanity was outside of the bathroom in the main room which right away was another turn off to this already run-down place. I was no decorator, dear reader, but the sight of this motel room was nearly nauseating. And that’s said by someone who had a dead body stashed in their car trunk.

As Jack shuffled through the bi-fold closet for whatever he was looking for, I took a moment to take in my surroundings for more than just the initial shock of colour and pattern vomit that filled the place. The neon 80s themed picture above the bed was of the New York skyline which was strange since we were in Los Angeles, and the fact that there were two more mahogany framed mirrors along the other walls was unsettling. I tried not to meet my own reflection.

Jack had a suitcase laid out beside the mahogany dresser and it was tossed open and clothes were haphazardly thrown about it but the suitcase wasn’t the only spot for fabrics as every other available surface – including the small table in the corner – housed various piles of fabric scraps and scissors and pins and needles. The worst of it was the few bare mannequins laying under the window adjacent to the door.

“So…” I started slowly, turning back to Jack whose back was still turned to us, “How did you know my wife?”

“My business.” Jack answered. He pulled a jacket on a hanger from the back of the closet and dropped it on the table right on top of all the scraps and pins and mess. He grabbed one of the many pairs of scissors that were scattered around and snipped a few things that I couldn’t see from where we stood.

His dry answers to our questions had Jonah and I more suspicious as the time went past but we waited to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

Jack finally turned around with a small smile and picked up the hanger to turn and face the black denim jacket towards us, “I’m a bit of a fashion designer I guess you can say and Avalon found my page on Instagram a few months back and she got in touch with me about making you a custom jacket.”

I didn’t know what to say. In all the words I could use, perfect was the only one that came to my mind as I stared at the jacket in his hand. Someone might see it as a mess of things but it was just my taste; chaos enough to pass as designer even. It housed red x’s painted over the right shoulder and a single white stripe down the left side that matched my surname on the bottom right front panel. He made sure to show each of the denim sleeves, cuffed at the bottom in black and red plaid and the left wrist had ‘honey’ printed in small white font – the nickname I always called her. The other sleeve had matching vertical white font spelling out ‘Only the Beginning’ which was the name of Jonah and my very own record company; the company that always caused the most hostility between Avalon and me. Jack finally turned the jacket around to show the back, the shoulder section sewn over with a lace that looked a hell of a lot like Avalon’s wedding dress and I found myself stunned into shocked silence. It was incredible.

I walked into that motel with no hopes of any sort but what I seemed to find amidst those disgusting teal walls was better than I ever could have expected.

I took a step forward to take the jacket from him, grazing the sleeve ever so gently with my fingers as if it were going to break under my touch. Jack passed it over and helped me slide it on to make sure it fit. He brushed his hands over my shoulders and down my back to smooth it out and directed me to one of the many mirrors that were glued to the motel wall.

“That jacket is fresh.” Jonah said.

“It’s…gorgeous.” I agreed softly, turning slightly to see the back in the mirror.

Jack spoke next as he watched me admire his work, “She worked me into the ground for this one. I kept having to restart because she kept saying it wasn’t perfect enough…I lost a fuck ton of materials and money through that…ended up getting evicted from my place because I wasn’t earning money to pay rent which is why I’m living in this shithole now but…she was adamant. Said it had to be perfect for you. We were going to meet up one last time once you two got back from your trip but…” he faded out with a sigh.

I turned to him, “You were evicted?”

“Oh,” Jack shrugged as if it was no big deal and sat down on the end of the bed, “Yeah. She said she couldn’t pay me right away and I assured her it was no big deal but then when money got tight I felt badly to ask for an advance. She was my only client, ya know? She worked me hard enough anyway to pass as my only customer but…with no pay…landlord ended up kicking me out and this was the cheapest place in the whole county. It’s such an absolute fucking dump here that my daughter isn’t allowed to come visit me until I get back on my feet…court said something about unfit living situations or some bullshit. Not like my ex needs anymore reasons to talk shit.”

“Shit…bro…I’m sorry.” I breathed.

“What can ya do?” Jack shrugged, sucking his teeth with a shake of his head. He stood up from the end of the bed, offering a dry, “She’s dead now anyway so…”

I turned to Jonah who gave me a look as if to just get out of there but I looked back in the mirror at the jacket I wore.

Goddammit.

I spoke to Jack through the mirror, “Do you take PayPal?”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15

[that-winged-rat]

Identity

Identity ~ Part 2

*not my gif*

Summary: A strange case leads the boys to a strange girl with a strange past.

No Pairing

Characters: OC Danielle Saunders, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Minor OCs

Warnings: Language, angst, mentions of death/violence, loss of parents

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Part two of Identity! Enjoy :)

21 Years Later

“What’s with this case again?” Dean asked his brother, who sat in the passenger seat of his beloved Impala.

“So, this couple was found in their home, burnt to a crisp. Nothing else was burned, just them. No signs of forced entry either,” Sam said, reading from his phone.

“You thinking the Thule?” Dean suggested. “Wouldn’t be the first time they deep fried someone.”

“Yeah, could be.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for most of the journey, occasionally engaging in some banterful conversation. The drive wasn’t too far from the bunker so they managed to make it in one trip. They arrived at the motel and both decided it too late to do any work, so they hit the hay.

The next morning, they woke up, got food, got dressed into their fed suits, and headed out to work the case.

“So who are we heading to see first?” Dean asked as he got in his car, Sam doing the same a few seconds after.

“Well, their daughter was the one who found them, so we could probably start with her,” Sam answered, adjusting his tie.

“Sounds good,” Dean said as he stuck his key in the ignition and brought his baby to life.

They pulled up to an apartment building a few minutes later. After finding the correct room number, they knocked and waited.

The door opened a crack and the face of a woman peaked out. “Hello?”

“Miss Saunders?” Sam asked and she nodded lightly. “Hi, I’m agent Goss, this is my partner agent Campbell.” They flashed her their badges and she sighed, knowing why they were here. “Do you mind if we ask you a few question about your parents?”

“Look, agents, I’ve already spoken to the police and the local newspapers–”

“We get that, but we need to conduct our own separate investigation,” Dean said. She sighed and nodded, opening the door to let them in, guiding them into the living room.

“We are very sorry for your loss, Miss Saunders,” Sam said as he and his brother took a seat on her couch.

She scoffed. “Ms. Saunders sounds too fancy. Please, call me Dani,” she requested. “And thanks.” Sam and Dean nodded.

 “Now,” Dean started, “did you notice your parents acting differently recently?”

“Different how?”

“Like, paranoid, anxious, thinking that someone was following them?” Sam explained, leaning forward in his seat.

“They were a little paranoid. Kept asking me to stay with them for a while,” she said shaking her head slightly.

“Did they say why?”

“They just kept saying how they wanted to spend some time with me, but I knew there was something they weren’t telling me,” she started. “I said okay. And when I went over to the house, that’s... that’s when I found them.”

“When you went in the house, did you smell any rotten eggs?” Dean asked and Dani frowned in confusion. “Just some routine questions.”

“If there was anything that smelled like rotten eggs, I couldn’t smell it over the burnt corpses of my parents,” she said, sounding almost sarcastic. Sam sent a sympathetic smile her way.

“One more question: were your parents religious?” Sam asked.

“No, they were atheist.”

“Okay. Well, thank you for your time,” Dean said as the two of them stood up. “Again, we’re very sorry for your loss.” Dani smiled as she opened the door for them.

Sam took a small business card out of his pocket and held it out for Dani. “Here’s our number if you remember anything else.” She nodded, took the card and shut the door once they had left.

“Man, what the hell is this case?” Dean asked, walking down the hallway back to his car, along side his brother.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied. 

“I mean, no hex-bags, sulphur, nothing,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

They got some food at a local diner and headed back to the motel, both nearly having a heart attack when they saw Castiel sitting on one of the beds.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said once his heart rate had lowered. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Danielle Saunders.” Was all he said and the brothers looked at each other.

“The girl who’s parents just got fried?” Sam asked. “What about her?”

“She is being hunted by angels and demons,” he said. “I don’t know why, but I know that she’s powerful.”

“She seemed like a regular grieving human being when we spoke to her,” Dean said, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the bed.

“It’s most likely that she doesn’t know of her capabilities,” Cas explained.

“Do you know of her capabilities?” Sam asked.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t even know what she is. But she needs to be protected.”

“Alright, but what are we gonna tell her? ‘Oh hey, our angel friend says that there are demons and other angels hunting you and that you’re not human’. Yeah, that should go down well,” Dean said sarcastically.

“We could just tell her that whatever killed her parents are after her too. Which isn’t a complete lie,” Sam retorted. Dean agreed after a while and him and Sam headed back to her place.

“Agents. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Danielle said once she found the two men knocking at her door yet again.

“We think that wha–uh, whoever killed your parents might be after you now, so we think it would be safer if you come with us,” Sam told her.

“What? Why–why would they be after me?”

“Uh, we don’t know. But we would be able to protect you if you stayed at the motel with us,” Dean spoke up. “In your own room, of course.”

“Uhm, okay... let me just go pack some stuff. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes,” she said, walking away to her bedroom, leaving Sam and Dean in her doorway. She emerged a few minutes later with a backpack of her belongings.

They got to the motel and ordered another room, right next to theirs. Dani went into her room and unpacked some of her things. 

She scoffed. “What is my life right now?” She muttered to herself. “My parents are dead and apparently whoever killed them, is now trying to kill me.”

A knock sounded at her door, pulling her from her thoughts. She opened the door to see Sam.

“Hey, uh, me and Dean are just heading out to get some food,” he said. “Our buddy Cas is in our room so if you see a guy in a trench coat, it’s just him,” he smiled.

“Okay.” She smiled back. “Thanks for everything you’re doing.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “We’ll be back soon.” He left and she watched as the muscle car roared to life and drove off.

She sat on her bed and looked through some of the pictures on her phone. Pictures of her parents that brought tears to her eyes. It happened four days ago but she still hadn’t processed. Or let herself grieve. She knew that once she allowed herself to mourn, it would be hard for her to stop.

Another knock at her door once again brought her attention back to reality. She wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks and opened the door, a trenchcoated man standing there.

“You must be Cas,” she said with a smile, but didn’t allow him into her room just yet.

“Yes that’s me,” he said in a gruff voice. Dani stepped aside and let him in. She went back to unpacking, while Cas just stared at her.

“Can I help you?” She asked, jokingly, a smile tugging at one side of her mouth.

“What are you?” Cas asked, making Dani’s face drop. She looked up at him, blue eyes staring into her soul.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re not human, but... I’ve never seen anything like you before,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

Dani was silent for a moment, looking to the ground. “I... I don’t know what I am, but... this is probably gonna sound crazy, but, there’s something inside of me,” she said, looking up to him with what Cas could only describe as fear in her eyes. “There's this... force, or whatever. I can feel it. I’ve always felt it and I don’t know what it is... and that scares the shit out of me.” She looked back down to the ground, a rogue tear rolling down her cheek.

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” he said and she lifted her head to look at him. “Whatever you feel inside of you, we can help you. I assure you.”

“How? You’re just FBI, right?” She asked. Cas was about to answer when someone knocked at the door. Dani got up to check who it was when Cas told her that he would do it. He opened the door wider to let in Sam and Dean.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “Food’s in our room if you’re hungry.” Danielle nodded and followed them out of the room and next door, Cas not far behind.

The four of them sat at the small motel table in Sam and Dean’s room, all tucking into food, except for Cas of course.

“So, Dani,” Dean started. “How old are you?”

She scoffed. “Twenty-eight... I think.”

“You think?” Sam asked, his interest piqued.

“Yeah, I don’t actually know how old I am exactly.” The three men furrowed their brows, asking her to continue. “Uh, around twenty years ago, a couple found me on the side of the road. Bloodied and beaten. I don’t remember anything before that; the first thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. People thought I looked around seven, so yeah... I think I’m twenty-eight.”

“What about your records?” Sam asked before taking a bite of his salad.

“There wasn’t any. No birth certificate. No DNA match. No family. Nada,” she said and sipped her drink casually

“So, you’re parents aren’t your birth parents?” Cas asked.

Dani shook her head. “No, they took me in a few months after the couple found me.”

“What about the couple?” Dean questioned, a mouth full of food, muffling his voice a bit.

“Wow this is a fun round of twenty-questions,” she mumbled to herself, chuckling a bit. “Um... I don’t know. Nobody does.”

“Do you know their names? Maybe I can find something,” Sam offered.

“Uh, David and Michelle? I don’t know their last names, but it was near Rochester, New York. June ‘93.”

“Great.” He pushed his food away, making space for his laptop. Dani and Dean continued eating while Sam put his research skills to use and Cas awkwardly sat, doing nothing.

Five minutes later, and Sam found something. “Okay, so, get this, they were in the Hampton Inn the day after they found you. Then...” He trailed off.

“You gonna keep us in suspense? Then what?” Dean asked.

“Then... everyone in the hotel was found dead,” he said. “All burned to a crisp.”

She ran a hand over her mouth, fighting back tears. She could feel the sympathetic eyes of the three men on her. 

Dani furrowed her brows, realisation hitting her. All of those people were dead because of her; people who raised her, people who helped her and people who didn’t even know her. All of them dead. And all of them her fault.

She stood up hastily, drawing all attention to her. “Where you going?” Dean asked.

“Just need some air,” she said quietly, moving to the door.

“I don’t think that’s safe. We still don’t know if–” Cas started before she interrupted him.

“I just need some air, okay? I’m only going outside,” she snapped, leaving the dingy room.

She leaned against the motel wall and bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. It couldn’t be a coincidence that people died wherever she was.

After a few minutes, Dani pulled herself together and walked back to her room, deciding to head to bed. But sleep wouldn’t come that night. She heard someone come into her room and leave; presumably Sam, Dean or Cas, making sure she was okay.

At some point in the night, she heard someone else enter her room. But they didn’t leave, causing Dani to worry. She was listening to the intruder walk around, too scared to move, when she felt a hand grabbed her arm, making her squeal.

She struggled against the man who was a lot stronger than her. She kicked and screamed as well as she could, the man’s hand covering her mouth. Just then, another man came in, assisting with her kidnapping.

She felt a heat building up inside of her. It felt... dangerous. But not to her. A sense of familiarity came with it, but she can’t remember ever feeling it before. She closed her eyes, the heat moving to her outer body. The hold the men had on her dropped and she opened her eyes a few seconds after. 

She stumbled back at the sight of the two corpses; both burnt beyond recognition. Just like her parents.

“Dani?” She heard a voice ask, but it sounded distant. “What the hell happened?” Dean asked, but didn’t get an answer as she just stood there, trembling slightly and staring at the bodies.

Sam stepped forward, placing a cautious hand on her arm, breaking her out of her trance. “Danielle,” he said gently. “What happened?”

“I–I–I don’t–I don’t know,” she stuttered, not taking her eyes off of the men. “They just–they just came in here and–and they tried to take me. I felt this... I dunno. And... And I closed my eyes, and when I opened them...” 

The three men all furrowed their brows and shared confused glances with each other. Sam and Dean having a silent conversation as Cas walked over to her.

“I did this,” she whispered, barely audible.

“These men. Did you notice anything strange about them, or their eyes?” He asked.

“Uh, I couldn’t see their eyes. It was too dark,” she said slowly, still in shock of what happened. “But they were really strong. The first man lifted me up like I was nothing.”

He turned to the brothers. “Demons,” he said quietly, but not quiet enough for Dani to not hear.

“Are you serious? Fucking demons? Is this a joke?”

“You wanna give her the talk?” Dean said to Sam, making the younger Winchester roll his eyes. He walked to her and gestured for her to sit down on the bed.

“Okay, um, there’s no easy way to say this really...” he said, more to himself. “Those men weren’t men, they were demons. And... we’re not FBI.”

“Yeah, I figured,” she said sarcastically.

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. My name is Sam Winchester, that’s Dean, my brother. And demons aren’t the only monsters. There’s vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, and angels... like Cas.”

“Okay, okay,” she started laughing. “Werewolves, vampire and shifters? Maybe with some persuasion and alcohol, I might believe that. But angels and demons? Not a fucking chance.” She stood up.

Dean looked to Cas and gave him a quick nod. His eyes glowed an ethereal blue and the shadow of a pair of wings were projected on the wall behind him. Dani’s eyes widened and her face dropped. She stumbled back and braced herself on the table.

“Okay... I think that... I think that is sufficient proof,” she said slowly. 

“Really? That’s it?” Dean asked, surprised that it didn’t take that long to convince her. Most people would claim that they were crazy. Or go crazy themselves.

“Well, I mean, I just killed two men who are apparently demons by accidentally setting them on fire and you’re friend who you say is an angel just put on a light show with no lights on in the room, so, yeah, that’s it.”

“Wow, that was... easier than I expected,” Dean said and shrugged.

“Okay, well, you should try and get some rest,” Sam said before Dean and Cas followed him out of the room.

She laid back in bed and closed her eyes, her mind racing with thoughts, yet again replacing sleep. Thoughts about what lurked in the dark. Thoughts about what she was, about how she burnt two demons with a feeling. Why were these things happening to her? She was no one.