#she watched him die a horrible gruesome death and was never the same

[dannybobany]

Really old oc of mine I decided to draw (because he kinda looks like Basil omori)

He’s so old in fact I was never a good enough artist to draw him how I wanted when I still used him so. Here’s a gift for my younger self :}

[st4rbe0m]

SUMMARY ▸ 20 years ago, a gruesome murder shook the town hard. A type of murder that should've never happen, much less in their quaint town. A lovely family killed in cold blood with an unforgiving axe wielding maniac - a mother, a father and a little girl. It's been 20 years down the road, hasn't it? Then why are these 11 teenagers stuck in a loop of the same day, being haunted by a little girl who died 20 years ago?

PAIRING ▸ Park Jongseong (Jay) x reader ; additional pairings between characters as well , multi chapter story

TAG LIST ▸ open!! send an ask to be added

WC ▸ 2.5K

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THE BODY SEARCH ?

▊ yes -> CHAPTER 4

▊ no -> CHAPTER 2

BODY SEARCH MASTERLIST

A/N: happy enha comeback day!! i absolutely loved XO lmfao I really needed that fresh cute enha concept after all the vampires and blood. Moonstruck is just INSANE I'm so glad it isn't an intro LOL. Also the insane bf looks they served in the MV like !!! I too would like to go on a rooftop date with Heesung maybe 😞

Jake’s pupils are blown wide as he stares directly into the black abyss of where a normal girl’s eyes would be. A girl who wasn’t covered in blood maybe. A girl who didn’t possess superhuman strength and didn’t want to kill them in the most creative ways possible. It’s also the only thing he sees as the bloodied hand of the Red Girl, as the group had imaginatively named her, clutched his white school shirt. The fingers easily lifted him with dexterity, and casually flung him across the art classroom where he hid, his neck brutally impaled by the wood of the easel. 2 down, 8 more to go. 8 out of the 10 people who had been, against their will, sucked into this sick game. The Body Search.

The Day before as the Same Day : 10AM

Jungwon is nervously pulling his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks at each of the members of this little horror club, none of them meeting his eyes. He can’t really blame them, watching how their foreheads creased in worry and concentration as they scanned through all the evidence and information Jungwon had presented spread across the library table - newspaper articles, old books and heavy paperbacks all laid out for them. 

“So you’re telling me, that this little girl is using us because the cops never found her body when she was murdered? What does that have to do with us? Why do we have to find her body?”. Sunoo is exasperated, but mostly filled with concern. How many nights would they have to continue dying, only to wake up in the same day? “The parts are stashed across the school you say?”. It’s Giselle who interrupts, Heesung beside her rubbing her arm up and down in an attempt to comfort his girlfriend. But how could you comfort someone knowing that they were gonna die a painful death in a few hours time? 

“Why can’t we find them now?”, the deeper voice of Riki asks, and Jungwon just sighs when he explains, “That’s the game. It’s only at night. And you have to run from her. Honestly, even I don’t know more. Based on the books, that's how it’s done. And based on the news reports, she’s the only victim that checks out.” 

“It’s quite horrid though, what happened to her, is it not?”. Y/N’s voice is sort of shaky when she says this, the girl slightly worried about all the people surrounding her. “To be dismembered this horribly after that man kills your entire family, only to have your corpse go missing? She must not be able to rest peacefully.” Humming along, Jay added, “That’s true for sure. It’s quite tragic what happened to her”, making eye contact with Y/N as he did, his chocolate eyes gleaming with pity for the little girl. “But what I also don’t get is why she’s trying to kill us, when we’re just helping her rest easy?”.

“That’s what confuses me as well!” Jungwon added enthusiastically, and he just gestured at the books around him. “That’s the one thing I couldn’t find in here. Why is she trying to kill us?”

“Point is then, that we have to find her body parts right. Okay then.” As Park Sunghoon had disinterestedly made his entrance, he left the same way, hands shoved deep into his pockets and a scowl adorning his handsome features. Jake and Jay sprinted behind him, the two walking beside him, harsh discussion being whispered between them. Soon after the group adjourned, jarred by the discoveries Jungwon had brought forward. Sunoo and Riki went off towards their respectful classes, while Jungwon and Y/N walked together on their own. After contemplating it for a while, Y/N cracked open, and spilled what she saw to Jungwon - the well by the chapel and the hands. The flower pot. Jungwon nodded along, clearly disturbed by what she told him - and confessed to a similar vision he saw in the washroom, of a bloody hand reaching at his foot from under a stall. 

“Why do you think it’s only the ten of us who were chosen? We have dozens of students here, and yet all ten of us have nothing in common.” Jungwon asked inquisitively. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s the objective. Finding the most different people to put into this game. To slow us down maybe.” 

Jake had his lips pursed tightly as he continued witnessing the heated debate between Jay and Sunghoon. “We’re your fucking friends, dipshit! You can tell us anything man! But ghosting us for days on end, cutting off all ties? That’s low.” Jay spat out in anger towards Sunghoon, who’s forehead displayed a vein visibly ticking in annoyance. “I can’t fucking do anything okay!” Sunghoon just shouts back, the walls he built cracking down in the face of the confrontation of the friends he’s had since elementary school. “Ice skating and basketball. This and that. I’m fucking sick. I’m sick of the coach pushing this competition on us. It always ends up with me compromising one over the other, only because of how greedy he is for the medals, for the medals he never won. I’m a tool! A tool he projects on and I hate it! And most of all, I’m sick of the way I'm starting to hate both of them.” Sunghoon heaves a large breath after the last sentence, crumbling down to his knees as he does, while Jake and Jay stand there in shock, and sadness. It’s always been this trio of theirs. Ever since elementary, arms linked. The three could take over the world. Slowly inching towards Sunghoon, Jake ran his hand soothingly over Sunghoon’s back, and soon Jay joined, letting the silence and the weight of Hoon’s confession settle over them.

1AM : Current Day which is the Same Day

Jay and Y/N found themselves together in a classroom again. However, this time it seemed deliberate, and it was. Jay wanted to keep an eye on Y/N. To keep the girl close to him so he could keep her away from harm’s way - even though that was quite impossible here, in this twisted game they found themselves in. The lights were turned on in every classroom they could find on that floor, and the pair crouched around shelves trying to find any clues about the whereabouts of the dead girl’s missing body parts. “You know Y/N, for someone who declared themselves queen of tag when we were five, you don’t seem that good at your job”. The time the two spent in that classroom had opened up to a conversation and light hearted jokes, which blossomed to a budding interest as the two conversed, with Y/N not treating it as a conversation with her crush that would usually leave her as a blushing, stuttering mess, but rather, as a catch up with an old friend. An old friend whom she’d liked since middle school, with the kindest smile and the most wonderful humor. “Aw Jay, do you want to steal some of my Princess Pony bandaids again, just in case you get hurt again?”, Y/N teasingly jabbed back, to which Jay gave a genuine laugh and said, “Not my fault the bandaids looked good. Smelled good too.” The lights above them blinked once. Then again. Sensing danger, the two ran after sharing the same look of horror, and went into the storage room that was often used to keep supplementary books. Flicking the light switch inside the room that seemed to fail to light up, the two could only use the light from the illuminated fish tank in the room. That’s when Y/N let out a rather loud gasp, startling Jay who asked her fervently, “What happened?”. Pointing at the fishtank, they both saw the single forearm, tinged brown and covered in decaying bruises and yellowish veins, floating in the water. The lights in the main classroom seemed to flicker even more aggressively now, blinking angrily as the feet of the Red Girl came into view. Both of them knew what they had to do. Reaching into the fishtank and grabbing the severed arm, Y/N and Jay ran into the classroom, the Red Girl running towards them at the same time. “Chapel Y/N, now!”. Wielding a chair Jay had picked up, he madly swung it at the Red Girl just before she could reach Y/N, pinning her down against the wall, exerting all his might to make sure Y/N got away with enough safe distance. Turning slightly back, he looked to double check. Immediately, the Red Girl used this opportunity to jam the metal leg of the chair right through Jay, blood gurgling and spilling out of his mouth, as his eyes watered and went slack, falling completely to the floor. 

Y/N ran and ran, determined to get to the chapel. That’s when she saw the faces of NingNing and Giselle, sweaty and looking towards her, with an urgency in their eyes when they spotted the arm with Y/N. But as quickly as the look appeared, a look of fear washed over their faces. The Red Girl. Taunting Y/N as she took a few steps, smiling madly. Then, she began sprinting, sporting the same blood-curdling grin. Giselle jumped to action, pressing down hard on the button that began pulling down the shutters and gate of that hallway. “Are you mad, Y/N is out there!” NingNing screamed. “So what, do you want to die too?” Giselle retaliated. “Come on Y/N!!” NingNing urged, holding her hand out for Y/N, as the gate kept lowering, its mechanical groaning deafening against the quiet of the night. Sliding against the smooth floor, Y/N made it in the nick of time, with the hand in tow, gate dropping just before the Red Girl could cross over. Standing up, with Giselle’s back facing the gate she looked to the two girls and explained, “We need to get this arm into the coffin.” Grudges for how the two were ready to leave her out there could be settled later. This was more important. Nodding, Giselle said, “Yeah, for sure, let’s go.”. The metal of the gate moved up, metal bending unnaturally as a red hand appeared underneath it, grabbing Giselle by the ankle and pulling her down. The entire thing happening before Ning Ning and Y/N could even register it. A pool of blood appeared immediately, spreading down from under the floor, as the hand reached out again to grab Y/N this time, screaming as she went under, the hand flying into the air and landing onto the floor as it happened. Not wasting a second, NingNing grabbed the arm like hell. The coffin right in front of her as she reached the chapel, she frantically searched which arm it was that fit the cream colored molding. As soon as she placed the arm down on the coffin’s bedding, the Red Girl launched herself on NingNing’s shoulders, deftly snapping her neck in two, NingNing’s vision going immediately black, as the last thing she was a rotten hand lying on white cushions. 

The four are gathered again by the stairwell. “Sunoo and I didn’t make it quite far the second time. She seemed to find us quite immediately.” “Yeah, neither did I. I handled the Red Girl so Gi could escape”, a sheepish Heesung admitted, rubbing nis neck with one hand while Giselle clasped the other, squeezing it in appreciation. “Same, I stalled her so that Y/N could- hey did you get the arm in?”, Jay asked, spinning to face Y/N, startled by the spotlight on her. “Uh, I got killed right after Giselle.” “I got the arm in, don’t worry.” NingNing reassured the rest. “We’re one arm in guys. One body part down.”

“We can’t keep doing this blindly guys. We’re gonna need a plan” Sunghoon said. “I’d much rather go into this with a structure than just get gutted all the time.” A plan was required, that was true. And with the same idea, all nine of them turned their heads to look at Jungwon, who’s eyes widened. “Right, so now everyone needs me. Come to the library at lunch. I have a plan.”, the boy with glasses assured with a confident smirk on his face.

The scene felt almost familiar, with the way they were all huddled around the library table. This time, Jungwon had a blueprint map of their school spread out, and two markers in his hand. Enthusiastically the boy presented, "I give you the Rocker Mix Plan!", as he gestured with jazz hands on the map. Blankly the group just tilted their heads at him, failing to understand what the boy was talking about. Clearing his throat from the awkwardness, with a single red marker, he colored in the room Jay and Y/N had found the arm in. "Okay guys, look. Jay and Y/N found the arm in this room right. So this room is cleared. I've also noticed that the Red Girl also seems to be attracted to sound and lights. And we just have to use that to our advantage." "The PA system", NingNing said with a gasp, eyes widening in realisation as she slowly understood Jungwon's plan. Snapping his fingers at NingNing in joy, glad to have found someone who has caught on to his plan, he exclaimed, "Exactly! We play whatever music or something through the PA systems to distract her, or confuse her. That way we can search the rooms more easily. And then we report back on which rooms we've searched and cleared." "Jungwon you freaking Einstein genius. Have you registered for the Mensa? I think you should", Jake said with a laugh and awe, slapping the boy on his back in praise, which made Jungwon beam in pride. "Let's start off with this first, and adapt as we go."

Deciding to boost the morale up, Riki just cheered, "What's a creepy little girl to us, bro? We got this! Lets fucking do this!", he hollered, which was met with a harsh shushing from the librarian paired with a stern glare that made Riki just cower away.

The group giggled at this youngest's antics. They weren't going to go into this blindsided anymore. This time, they were gonna be prepared.

[stgroversfire]

long rant about yu furen

i haven't been able to put into words how i feel about her character so here's a long ass high ass rant

i think the reason i love yu furen/jiang cheng/jing ling so much is that i can see their insecurities and the complexes they developed and think yea, that would probably fuck me up too. but the younger each of them are, the more room for growth they have- yu furen is detested in fandom because she did objectively horrible things. she had gut wrenching circumstances that led to it, and ultimately (and <i>maybe</i> arguably) was never able to make the morally correct choice from it. jiang cheng is younger, he is filled with anger and hate, but he still has room to come back from it. he's on the cusp of being unforgivable, almost evil, but the story leaves a bit of hope for him to come back from it. (i am a yunmeng bros conciliation superfan). jin ling is objectively the most lovable, because he had awful circumstances, has taken on the personality of the uncle that raised him, and is so, so angry. but he's young enough that he hasn't harmed anyone or done things that cant be forgiven

like do not get me wrong. to me, yu furen is a bad person. when she made wei ying believe his life was worth less, when she blamed him for the destruction of lotus pier, when she whipped him, that solidly put her in shitty person territory.

but at the same time. i see her trying to protect her family. i see her watching her husband dote on the son of a woman he loved, neglecting their own children because they reminded him of her. that is a pain I cannot fathom. i truly hate jiang fengmian for how he treated jiang cheng and jiang yanli. i see yu furen doing everything for her children only for wei ying to take the spotlight and (inadvertently) cause trouble for the whole clan.

and while i think the actions she takes are wrong because of it, her character is one i can at the very least respect. she decided to slap the shit out of wang lingjiao at the suggestion of permanently disabling wei ying (which i can't say for sure wasn't entirely a product of her pride/thinking he had use for jiang cheng, but i want to read it as at least having the slightest care for a child she watched grow up, detested though he was).

when she tells wei ying to protect jiang cheng with his life... she obviously would not bat an eye if wei ying died a gruesome death, but at the very least, i don't think she <i>wanted</i> him to die, so much as get the hell away from her husband who doesn't love her and her kids that will never measure up in jiang fengmian's eyes. (wei ying leaving would never fix this, but i don't think she was raised to think about emotions like that.) she still saves wei ying along with jiang cheng, and even if it was more for jiang cheng's benefit, i can at least say that she didn't hold such hatred in her heart that she truly attempted to cause his death.

which. yes. low fucking bar. but i see a complexity to her character that entices me more any other character (except maybe nie huaisang, the motherfucker.)

i was gonna also talk about jiang cheng and jin ling but i think ill save it for another day

[helie-brain]

Troy (2004)

I recently watched Troy again, and I have to say that I really love the film. I understand that it’s not the greatest film and that a lot of people hate it because it is a horrible adaptation from the Iliad. But does it deserve all of the hate. I mean if you take away the aspect that it is supposed to be BASED OFF of the Iliad, its a great movie. 

The sets are beautiful and impressive.  You feel, or in my opinion, like you are in the city of Troy. Even when it is being sacked, you still get a feeling of how large the city is. Talking about the sacking,  the movie, the directors cut version, did not shy away of depicting how violent the sacking of the city can be; children being burned, women being raped, people hanging and much more. The costumes, even if they may not be accurate, are very beautiful and looks like a lot of work was put into them. Same can be said about the weapons being used. 

The fighting scenes are gruesome, realistic, thrilling and well choreographed. Especially when it came to Hector and to Achilles, it definitely shows why they are the greatest fighters of their time. Without dumbing down the other fighters. For example Hector vs A-Jax, it was a really close fight, with both getting some good punches, but in the end Hector won. And while they were fighting, the rest of the soldiers were fighting and not watching them with amazement. But the greatest fight scene would have to be Achilles vs Hector, no cgi, no stunt men, just two men fighting to the death. 

The characters/cast themselves were great and memorable. You cannot think of Hector without thinking Eric Bana. He played him so well, whenever he talked it felt like an actual leader was talking. Brian Cox was perfect for the role of Agamemnon, at times he was the best part of the film. His outburst were never played as a joke and were never overly emotional. He was not a dumb villain who only had one goal, his moves were calculated and there was always another reason at play. Even Orlando Bloom did a great job at playing a naïve, entitled, most punchable face, which is what Paris was; a prince who stole another man’s wife and started a war that resulted in countless deaths. 

My favorite character would have to be Briseis, played by Rose Byrne. She is a stubborn, fearless, family oriented, somewhat entitled person, who doesn’t want people to die; Greeks or Trojans. And is willing to put herself at risk so others won’t risk there lives saving her. Not to mention I love her dynamic with Achilles. Speaking of which, Brad Pitt did amazing job at playing an annoying, arrogant, childish, warrior with a cheeky heart of gold. Yes I know that in the Iliad or other related books, he has a romantic relationship with Patroclous, but honestly I like the idea that he his cousin that he must watch over. In my opinion it adds more pain to Patrclous’s death; not only did Achilles lose someone he loved but he failed as a guardian. 

I liked that they didn’t add Gods to the film, even though they were a big part in the books. The reason is that the movie would then be more about the gods than the warriors. Meaning that the choices and actions the humans did would not be so impactful since it didn’t come from them fully but were swayed by the gods. Also we the audience would not have much a connection with the humans if we constantly had to go back and forth between the humans and the gods. 

But again nothing is perfect, there are things in the film that I have trouble with. The main one being pacing, I understand that showing 10 years would be somewhat difficult. But make the war last longer than a few days, that way you can flesh out more the relationships and the characters.  Also how passive Helen was through out the film; I mean Hector’s wife was taking care of her child, dealing with the lose of her husband and in the end saving Troy. Briseis was trying to stay alive in the enemy camp. Helen just seemed to be sitting there and only making small attempts to flee back. 

But in the end it’s a film that is BASED ON the Iliad. And the primary purpose of a film is to entertain. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 

[yandere-ac]

Can you write a little bit Mondo x Girly! Reader?

Yandere Mondo Owada X Girly Reader

Promise

⚠️ Spoilers for chapter 2 ⚠️

Ever since Mondo was little he’d have one thing drilled into his brain. When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it, even if it kills him. That is what his brother Daiya had taught him and that was something he was never going to forget. And he never did, no matter how difficult it could get he never ever broke any of the promises he made. So when it finally happened, the shame hit him hard.

He had remembered his utter confusion when he first woke up at hopes peak academy. He had rested on a desk in some classroom all by himself, which only confused him more. Why was he here? He was just walking into the school and now he was sleeping on a desk? Had he just...slept through a lesson or something? As he gazed around the room he saw a big clock hanging above the big blackboard. Nope, he couldn’t have slept through any lesson. There was still 15 minutes left before the school started. So why was he here? Never mind, he had to get to the entrance.

Walking out of the classroom he felt a sudden shiver up his spine as dread crept up his back. He didn’t know why, but something about this place was freaking him out. But he hadn’t had any time to process this new uneasiness as he heard the faint sounds of footsteps running towards him. Immediately he tensed up and got ready to defend himself in case anything happened. But he hadn’t gotten any time to process this new threat as something, or rather, someone ran into him. They had turned a corner in the hallway and didn’t seem to see him before it was too late. As they crashed into him they fell backwards and landed on the floor. Mondo was pushed back slightly by the crash but unlike the person before him, he didn’t fall. It only took him a few seconds before he regained his posture. Letting out a grunt he turned to the person still on the floor.

"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING DUMBASS!" He could now see the other person more clearly. They wore a puffy white blouse which they tucked into a pink skirt. They had pastel pink knee high socks that reached their thighs and they had a small bow in their hair. They were rubbing their head as they groaned slightly. After a couple of seconds they looked at him and their face immediately turned from dazed to panicked. "Oh my god I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you like that!" They apologised to him profusely as they put their hands together, still on the floor. Mondo rolled his eyes and extended his hand to them. "Quit fussing. I’m not gonna hit you or anything. Just get up." Their face turned slightly pink as they realised they had been rambling. "Oh, yes of course." As they grabbed his hand Mondo could feel something in his chest for a split second. But he quickly brushed it off as he pulled them up off the ground. As soon as they stood up, they let go of his hand and brushed off their skirt. And that for some reason made Mondo a little bit irritated, but he didn’t understand why.

"Well, since first impressions are out the window," the person began as they smiled at Mondo. "Hi! My name is Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you!" As you introduced yourself to him you gave him a little bow. Mondo had eyed you up and down. You looked to be about his age, but you seemed nothing like him at all. You were like the personification of the colour pink, cute, polite, feminine. It wasn’t his style at all. And yet, something about you, it intrigued him. "Names Mondo Owada." He stated bluntly while putting his hands in his pockets. "So I’m guessing you’re a student here. What class do you belong to?" You gave him a slight smirk while you asked this. Something about it seemed almost endearing to Mondo. "Yeah, Class 78th. I was just heading to the entrance ceremony." This made you perk up. "Oh? Me too! I was just going there actually. That’s why I was running before. Sorry about that again." You flashed him a smile as the two of you continued. So you were his classmate huh? He didn’t know if that was good or bad. You sure seemed to like chatting, that’s for sure.

And that’s what you two did on your walk to the entrance. During said walk he learned that you were the ultimate makeup artist. And it really showed, you’re face was full of makeup. And Mondo would be lying if he said that it didn’t look good. But he would never admit something like that out loud. Still, you had given him a compliment about his makeup, the eyeliner he wore specially. Which made him kinda happy, it was good to know he was doing it right. But sooner or later, you came to the entrance. The two of you weren’t the first ones to arrive. There were about 8 other students there, standing around and waiting for something to happen. But what was weird about said entrance was that the door had been replaced by a giant vault door. Suspicion was rising in Mondo as everyone started talking to you both.

The way you two met was...less than optimal. But you hadn’t let it get in your way at all. You hung out with Mondo a lot. You kept reaching out to him, which he appreciated. You made him feel strong. From little things like grabbing his arm whenever you felt uneasy or uncomfortable to telling him you felt safe with him. He felt good around you. Like he was actually as strong as you beloved him to be. But the one thing that you ever did that made him feel good was after the Sayaka trial.

He remembered it clear as day. It was nighttime, a couple of hours after the first ever class trial. And it had hit him hard. That Sayaka was dead, that she had tried to kill Leon and blame it on Makoto, that Leon had been executed in such a horrible and gruesome manner. It fucked him up. He sat up in bed, just staring at the floor while he rested his head in his palms. Sayaka had always seemed so nice, so sweet. She and Makoto very obviously had a thing going on. So to know that someone like her would blame it all on him in order to escape, it made him question who he could trust. Sayaka had been the first to attempt something like this, now that you had gone over the line of comfort anyone could be next. He couldn’t die now, not after years of maintaining the Crazy Diamonds. He couldn’t fail Daiya! He couldn’t-

Knock knock

Someone had knocked on his door. No, he was not answering that. He wasn’t gonna become a victim like Sayaka and Leon. But the knocking continued, and continued, and continued, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked up to his door, and opened it slightly. Through the small crack in the door he could see it was you. And you saw him. You’re eyes were glossy and your nose was red. "Could you let me in? I’m not armed I promise." Mondo hesitated for a few seconds, should he? He knew you. You would never hurt someone, let alone him. But...he thought the same about Sayaka. Mondo looked at you once again. You were hugging your sides and wiping your tears off your cheeks. You didn’t have any makeup on, which was unusual for you. But most of all, you just looked so small. You were pretty much cowering together as you waited for him to open the door. You couldn’t be here to kill him. He refused to believe it and mentally cursed himself out for even thinking about the possibility. With a swift move, he opened the door and let you inside. You thanked him as you walked into his dorm.

"Are you okay?" That was the first thing he asked you after he closed the door. You sat down on his bed, clutching your hands together as your eyes fastened to the floor. You didn’t give him an answer, you just stared at the floor, just like he was a couple of minutes ago. After a couple of seconds of silence, Mondo sat down next to you. He let out a sigh and used his hand to stroke your back. "Hey it’s okay, or well- it’s not okay right now but uh..." Damn it. He wasn’t very good at this was he? "Hey, look at me." He cupped the side of your face in his hand as he turned it towards him. "It’s gonna be okay, I promise. This shit sucks, it’s fucking insane. But you’re going to be okay." You let out a sniffle and a sob as he stroked your cheek. "But how can you say that? Two of our classmates are dead! How can I, how can any of us be safe when two of us has died!" You cried out, and as your voice cracked under pressure Mondo could feel his heart break. "...Y/N, do you wanna know the one thing that my brother made sure to teach me? When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it, even if it kills him." Mondo told you, now letting go of your face and grabbing your hands. "It’s something I’ve always told myself, every single time I ever make a promise, I think of that. And I have never in my life broken a promise. So when I tell you this I want you to listen. You’re going to be okay. You’re gonna survive this shit, no matter what. I promise you will Y/N. Do you wanna know why?" You looked at him as you let out another sob. "Why?"

"Because you have me."

You spent that night with Mondo. The two of you keeping each other company and keeping each other calm. That night Mondo not only made a promise to you, but to himself. He had to protect you. It didn’t matter if he thought he could or couldn’t, he had to. He wasn’t gonna loose someone like you.

And for the most part, he was able to keep that promise. There hadn’t been any other deaths until then and Mondo was happy about that. What he was also happy about was that you and Taka got along well. After all, it would be a little awkward if his best friend didn’t get along with his...partner? Friend? He didn’t know. You two hadn’t made anything official or put any labels on your relationship but it was obvious that it wasn’t strictly platonic. You and him have shared a bed multiple times, much to Takas dismay. But it didn’t matter, because you and Taka got along. He wasn’t sure why, but Taka was the only guy that he felt comfortable with you being around. But anytime you hung out with any of the other guys he felt this burning sensation in his chest. He didn’t blame you or anything, he knew you weren’t gonna get with one of them, but it still felt bad. Like they were trying to take you away from him. He wasn’t so sure about the girls since he didn’t know if you were into that, but you were into him, which meant you were into boys. He hadn’t told you about this, he knew that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. So he just kept all his feelings inside of him. Which also wasn’t a smart thing to do. He already struggled with a lot of self worth issues, so mixing in the paranoia about the other guys only made it worse. What if one of them convinced you to leave Mondo? And what if you realised that he wasn’t as strong and tough as he made himself out to be? What if you left him? He couldn’t loose you. Not now. Not ever.

But strangely, you didn’t spend much time with a lot of the guys. You mostly spent time with the girls. Him and Taka were the only guys you seemed to hang out with most of the time, but most of the time, it was with the girls. The one you spent most of your time with was none other than Chihiro Fujisaki, the ultimate programmer. You and her talked a lot, which at first annoyed Mondo slightly. An annoyance which you noticed pretty quickly. So when you asked him about it and he answered, you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Which only made him madder. With a quick peck on the cheek, you explained to Mondo that you and Chihiro were like best friends. "Don’t worry Mondo. Chihiro is like my Taka." Chihiro was like your Taka. Once you had put it like that Mondo felt better. He started to wonder why he was even worried in the first place.

But then came the accident.

It had been a rough evening for Mondo. Monokuma had given all of you new motives in order to get you all to kill. This time it was embarrassing or scandalous secrets. If a murder didn’t happen within the next 24 hours he was gonna reveal them all to the outside world. He had wished his motive was just one of the embarrassing things he had done when he was little. But no. His secret was the murder of his big brother, Daiya. He remembered the pit that had formed in his stomach as he read his motive. Everyone in The Crazy Diamonds were gonna find out. After keeping the gang together for so long it was all gonna be ruined. He felt shitty, he felt MORE than just shitty. And he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. So when you had asked him what was wrong he simply stated that he wanted to be left alone. Maybe a bit more aggressively then he wanted to. And he beat himself up over it. Why couldn’t he just talk to you! Why did he have to be so stupid! That day he spent hours in the gym, working out and releasing his anger. But it wasn’t working. His thoughts kept flowing back to Daiya, and you, and his secret. What would you think of him after you found out? What if you started to hate him? He couldn’t let the last conversation you had with him before you find out be the one you had before. The one when he snapped at you and stormed off when the only thing you did was ask if he was okay. What had he done?! He had to find you!

But right as he opened the door to the gym he was met with Chihiro. She let out a slight yelp as Mondo had opened the door rather violently. "O-Oh! Mondo. There you are. Is this where you’ve been all day?" She asked him. "Yeah, what’s it fucking to ya?" Mondo answered, once again getting more aggressive then he wanted to. Chihiro frowned slightly as he raised his voice at her. Damn it, he knows he shouldn’t yell at Chihiro. "...I’m...did you want something or what?" Mondo asked, his voice a little lower then before. "Huh? O-Oh yes! I wanted to ask you...could I train with you?" This question caught Mondo completely off guard. "...train with me? Can’t you just train with Sakura and Aoi instead? How would you even get into my training room?" Mondo asked. Chihiro looked a little uncertain for a moment before taking in a deep breath. "Because..." she grabbed the door to the men’s room and closed it. Then she pulled out her tablet and pressed it against the automatic door lock. And with a small click, the door opened. Mondos eyes widened as he saw this. Soon he looked down at Chihiro. "I wouldn’t be able to get into the girls room..."

Chihiro told Mondo about her secret, or rather, his secret. How he’s been dressing up as a girl his whole life. How he’s always thought of himself as too weak. How he...how he wanted to change. He told Mondo about how he’s tired of hiding, tired of living a lie. He wanted to be like Mondo. He wanted to be strong like him. He told him that he admired Mondo. Admired him and his strength. As Mondo listened to him, he couldn’t help but think how, how did he have this much courage?! How could he face his flaws like it was nothing? He was so strong...and it just showed how much weaker Mondo was. Chihiro was strong, he faced his problems and wanted to change. But Mondo, Mondo was the opposite. He had hid away the entire day, working out just to distract himself. He had kept it all inside of him and refused to work on himself in any way at all. He had lashed out at one of the people he cared about simply because he didn’t want to be vulnerable around them...he was nothing like Chihiro...Chihiro Fuji-fucking-saki. That bastard. How dared he sit there and act like Mondo was as strong as him. As if he was anything but a coward.

"Are you making fun of me?! I’m strong? Are you fucking with me right now?" Mondo raised his voice slightly as anger seemingly seeped through him. "I’m not making fun of you. You really are strong Mondo." Chihiro tried to explain himself, thinking that Mondo got the wrong idea. "What do you want me to do? What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to just sit back, let my secret get revealed and ruin everything? Let my best friend and partner know I’m a murderer!?" Now Mondo started to shout. "Wh-Whats wrong?" Chihiros voice became fearful and worried as he tried to approach Mondo. But Mondo quickly snapped at him, turning his whole body towards him rather violently as he looked Chihiro dead in the eyes. "Why did you have to tell me all that? Are you trying to rub my failure in my face!? Huh?! Is that it!?" Mondo started to approach him as more and more fury built up inside of him. "N-No, I just- I really admire you! I admire your strength! I promise Mondo, I just want to become as strong as you are!" Chihiro backed up, but for every step he took, Mondo took one as well. And soon enough, Chihiro was backed up against the wall. He was shaking. Tears spilled out of his eyes as the taller male towered above him. "That’s right, I am strong...I’m strong! I’m strong! Stronger than you ever will be! You hear me?! I’M STRONG!" As Mondo shouted this, he bent down and picked up the object closest to him. A dumbbell. "Mondo you’re scaring-"

THUNK!

Chihiro didn’t get to finish his sentence as Mondo struck him with the dumbbell. With one hit, Chihiro fell down. With one hit, blood started to pour from his head. With one hit, the ultimate programmer known as Chihiro Fujisaki was dead. Dead and gone forever. One hit. That’s all it took. And with that one hit, Mondo came back to reality.

"....o-oh...oh fuck. Fuck! FUCK! CHIHIRO!" He fell down to his knees as he grabbed ahold of Chihiros shoulders. He started to shake him slightly. "Chihiro? Chihiro get up man! This isn’t funny! Wake up!" But his pleads fell on deaf ears. Because Chihiro wasn’t there. Chihiro was dead. He was dead because of Mondo. Chihiro trusted Mondo enough to tell him his secret and ask for help, and Mondo had killed him. Tears started to prickle Mondos eyes very soon. He let out one last breathy "fuck" and brought Chihiro close to him as he realised what he had done. He used to be the one that feared what someone might do to him. He used to wonder who he could trust, who might betray him. But in the end it was him, him who betrayed someone. Someone who could barely defend themselves. Someone who trusted him. And he betrayed that trust. "Chihiro...I’m so sorry..."

•••

And that brings us to where you all were right now. Mondo hadn’t said much during the trial. As everyone was discussing who might have killed Chihiro, the guilt was eating at him. He was a monster. He had killed someone who looked up to him and wanted to be like him. Every time he would try to focus on something else his mind just repeated what Chihiro had told him. Chihiro was strong. Strong enough to not hide away from himself. Unlike Mondo. Mondo did it when he was informed about the motives and he was doing it now...he couldn’t do this. As he looked around the room he saw that everyone was deep in their discussion. He looked at you, you had a frown on your face, he remembered the scream of pain you let out once you found your best friend tied up in the girls gym, blood pouring from his head. And even if this case clearly hurt you, you had to focus. You were gonna find out who did this. Your eyes were intense with raw emotion. That is, until you felt Mondo staring at you. You turned your gaze over to him, and as your eyes met his, they softened slightly. And that broke Mondo. He promised to protect you. And here he was, trying to get away with murder. If he got away with this, you would be executed. But if he spoke up...he would be the one dying. And as his hands started to shake he remembered what Daiya used to tell him. When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it. Even if it kills him. "Even if it kills him...." he said to himself in a very low voice. He had promised to protect you, that you would make it out alive. So even if he had to die, he had to do this. "Hey. Hey!" He said loudly, quickly getting everyone’s attention. Even if it kills him. "I have something to say..." for the first time in his life, for the last time in his life, he was gonna be strong. He was gonna be strong, like Daiya.

Like Chihiro.

Even if it kills him.

“WHY MONDO!? WHY WHY WHY?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?! HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM!" As his best friend shouted at him he felt like curling up and hiding away. His words cut deep into Mondos heart, even if all the words were true and justified. But what hurt the most were the words he didn’t hear. Taka was screaming at him, but you, you just stared at him in silence. You looked at him with hurt and betrayal in your eyes, and yet, not a word left your mouth. Tears were running down the sides of your face, tears that he was responsible for. “It would seem like you’re all ready to vote!” Monokuma said gleefully, much to Kiyotakas horror. “W-Wait! No! Hold on!” Taka cried out as he wanted to get answers from his best friend. “No more waiting! No more holding on!” Monokuma trailed on. But Mondo didn’t listen. He knew what was going to happen. He was going to die. But at least he died for the people he loved. He looked at you. You had tear filled eyes and a big frown. Suddenly, the levers you were all supposed to pull appeared. As everyone pulled their levers, only you, Mondo and Kiyotaka had been yet to vote. “Y/N! This can’t be happening! Tell me this isn’t happening! We’re not...WE’RE NOT VOTING FOR MONDO!” He yelled out as sobs escaped his throat. “Hey...Taka...Y/N...” Mondos voice rang through the trial room. You both turned to him. “It’s okay...vote for me...be safe...” and so, he grabbed his lever and placed his vote. “No! Don’t do this Mondo! Don’t do this!” Mondo gave the lever a big yank. Finalising the vote. He looked at you, you looked at him. Through your tears you saw him nod at you. And so, you pulled your lever.

•••

Taka was violently sobbing into the long coat that you had placed on his shoulders, Mondos coat that flew off him during his execution. It was the night after the trial. And Taka was completely destroyed. He was hysterically crying, letting out a sob in between every single breath he took. You stroked him on his back while trying to calm him down. “Hey...shh...shh...it’s...it’s not okay right now. I know that. But it’s going to be okay. We’re gonna get through this Taka. You and me. For Mondo. For Chihiro. He looked at you for a second before pulling you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay. You and me, we’re gonna get out of this alive. Because...” you trailed off for a second. “....because you have me.” Kiyotaka only started to sob more after you told him this. And you just kept stroking his back. “And I have you. We have each other. And we’re gonna be okay....”

“I promise you...”

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Break me w/the Tarron sibs?

Send me characters and a prompt: Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble fic.

I've gotta admit, I am very surprised by how the fic requests just keep on coming. Thanks, you know how to make a demigal feel appreciated.

This has major RotT spoilers (sort of. I refuse to watch the movie, and let's just say that Steve's entire subplot doesn't exist) as well as blood and self harm/suicidal imagery (no suicide happens, though). No, seriously, this is Rated M for that sort of stuff on AO3 and FFN. Also, sorry to fellow Jim fans, I hated his decision at the end of the movie so I treat him like trash in this.

Also, fun fact: despite Jim not learning his lesson from Unbecoming, I use a lyric from Starset's "Unbecoming" song for the title on AO3 and FFN.

AO3

FFN

Everyone stared at Jim in disbelief and horror as he finished his explanation.

"Jimbo, just how many times have you lived this day?" Toby asked. How many times have you watched me die was his unspoken question.

How many of us have died in Toby's place, Aja couldn't help but think as well.

"I... I'm not sure," Jim said, and he almost sounded like he had in the group video calls she'd spoken to him in a week ago. Given the looks on their friends faces, Aja could tell that everyone else was thinking the same thing: Jim sounded so much younger, and not like the jaded time traveler who had taken his place. But, just as quickly, the tone of Jim's voice changed back. "I lost count given all the times I reset the timeline early."

Out of the corner of her eye, Aja saw her brother's brow furrow.

"In all honesty, I don't know how or why I managed to end up in the original timeline."

"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Krel asked with an incredulous tone. No, not just incredulous. There was a venom to his voice, one that Aja only ever remembered him using once on Varvatos. "You don't have a plan, and I bet you're just going to leave us when everything starts to go wrong. That's what you did before, isn't it?"

The look that Jim gave to Krel was a little too kind, no, pitying to be complete and utter disdain for Krel's outburst.

"You're just going to let the..." Krel turned his head in Nari's direction, and his gaze managed to somehow become both softer and more poisonous. Krel slammed all four of his hands on the table. "Let the two of them get tortured, again, in a few horvaths, aren't you?"

Jim stayed silent in what Aja hoped was disbelief and not agreement with Krel's words.

"Fine, then. I guess I have to do everything myself." Krel pushed away from the table, spinning himself to walk away.

"Krel, what are you going to do?" Toby asked right before Krel could walk through the doorway. Krel looked at the rest of them over his shoulder, and there was a manic gleam to his eyes that Aja was uncomfortable with.

"Ask Jim," Krel said, and Aja was really uncomfortable with the way Krel sneered. "If he doesn't know, then this might work."

And then he exited the room, and conversation resumed. Aja wanted to go back after her brother, but she knew him. He wouldn't do anything too drastic; he just needed to work on an engineering project and try to calm down. She was queen, and she had to plan.

~

Being queen was frustrating. There had too many meetings with her extended family and other, lesser royals that had made Aja head to her room and scream into a pillow.

No meeting in the past two keltons had been nearly as exhausting as the one she had just exited. They were barely any closer to having a plan.

Aja walked the halls of one of the floating castle, looking for her brother. Claire had told her where his back-up lab was, but Aja was finding herself questioning if he was really there. There were none of the usual noises of her brother engineering.

Aja tripped, rolled, and looked back to see what she tripped on.

It was a canister, made of Akiridion technology with arcane runes along the rim. It would have been able to contain something powerful, like a highly radioactive substance. A grim feeling wrapped its way around her core, and Aja looked up to see a pair of open doors. She ran through them and stopped upon seeing her brother.

It wasn't that she wanted to stop, of course. Oh, no, she wanted to run to her brother and knock the horrible thing he was holding out of his hands. She couldn't, though. Her horror made it so that she couldn't do anything but remain rooted to her spot, unable to even scream.

What was he thinking? That thing had meant the death of their parents; what was he thinking?

Krel lined up Gaylen's core with his own, so that they were perpendicular to each other.

He closed his eyes as he brought the core away from his chest. His lips moved like he was saying something, but Aja couldn't make out the words.

Krel stabbed Gaylen's core into his chest, gasping as he did so.

Too late, Aja was finally able to scream.

Krel turned to her. Gaylen's core stuck gruesomely out of his chest, cyan blood seeping out of the wound, and there was something wrong with his eyes.

"Aja, what are you -" He coughed up blood that was now a little too azure to be cyan. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I-? What are, what were you thinking?"

"I'm at a location of the castle that isn't integral to the-" Krel coughed again and made a gurgling noise as pale electric purple blood exited his lips. "The structure, so if I become a giant then it, it won't..."

He slumped against the wall, and Aja ran to him. He raised up an arm in front of himself and Aja was thrown away from him by a wall of force. She pulled out her serrator and stopped herself. There was a horrified expression on his face and in his eyes were -

His eyes were -

His eyes were wrong. They were electric purple and neon red in a way that no Akiridion's eyes were, even half-Akiridions had solid colored eyes and the two rings of Krel's eyes were different colors in a way that stabbed dread into Aja's core.

"I... 'm sorry," Krel said, and he sounded so tired. "Didn't want to hurt... not you. Just wanted to save the people I love."

Krel's eyes slipped closed, and along the stab wound his body began to fracture. Aja screamed and ran to him, because she saw this happen to their parents and she wouldn't let this happen to her brother.

Not even if Jim could reset everything again and make it so this never happened.

Before Krel could be reverted to his core, before Aja could make it to her brother, Gaylen's core glowed with red light, and that same red light formed an opaque dome around Krel's body.

Aja banged her fists against it. "You can't have him! You already took my parents; you can't have my brother!"

Aja pressed her forehead against the domed shell keeping her from her brother.

It made sense, she supposed. Akiridions were born from eggs, and so Krel would be reborn from one. But why did he have to be reborn at all? Why did he have to do something drastic? And why hadn't she recognized that he would take a drastic route?

Aja didn't leave her brother's side, not even when Nari started screaming.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

(submission) The Undertow

(tws for temporary death, drowning, and separation)

    The tide washes out.

    False opens her eyes to a brand-new world, filled with life and color. Around her, a coral reef stretches as far as she can see. Fish dart between the branches of the reef and through the pitted rocks underfoot.

    What’s odd, though, is that she’s stuck.

    Something, she thinks, is very wrong. She glances down at her body, which is wrapped in the rough branches of some sort of calciferous red growth, and as much as she struggles, she can’t move, the surface rubbing against her skin.

    Behind her, she hears a frenzied splashing. She can’t turn around all the way, so she shouts to whatever’s behind her.

    “Get away from me!” she yells. If it’s a drowned, maybe she can scare it away. If it’s something worse...well. She wasn’t expecting a death this early in the season, but it had to happen at some point.

    Luckily, it’s just a human that calls back. 

    “False? Where are we?” asks Stress, her distinctive voice putting False back at ease. What passes for ease when you’re stuck in a coral reef, anyways.

    “I...don’t know,” False says, enunciating each syllable with careful precision, considering the options. “This is glitched, I suppose.”

    False can almost see Stress’s face brighten. “Oh, shame. Well, our dear admin will have it fixed in no time, then.”

    “Yeah, I’ll send him a message. Maybe he can teleport us out real quick.” She sighs. “We’re going to have to restart the world, probably. That’s annoying.” Taking out her communicator, which is only slightly waterlogged, she swipes it open and types out a quick chat to Xisuma. 

<FalseSymmetry> o/ 

<FalseSymmetry> x we’re stuck in coral. tp please?

    The two women wait. Five minutes.

    “Might as well start trying to get out of here!” Stress says, her voice a note cheerier than usual. It’s forced.

    False snaps out of her thoughts. “Sure.” She takes her fist and slams it down on their colorful prison. “Oof, that hurt,” she says, peering down at the spot where it made contact. “And barely a dent!”

    “Guess we better get working, then,” replies Stress, who’s trying her best not to sound too downhearted.

    They do. It’s not going great when Stress notices a bit of a change in their environment. “Falsie...do you think it’s possible the water might be getting the teensiest bit higher?”

    False nods grimly. “Yep.”

    Stress grimaces. “Oh boy. And Xisuma still hasn’t replied?”

    “Nope.”

    “Ah.”

    A moment passes in a nervous silence while the duo continue to chip away at the coral.

    “You don’t think he’s ignoring us, do you?” Stress says, a small quaver creeping its way into her quiet words.

    “Of course not. He’s probably just...busy.” False stops and cocks her head. “You know. I bet if our spawn is glitched, other peoples’ might be as well.”

    “That makes sense, I suppose.”

    A small wave washes over them. When they reemerge, coughing from the salty water, they find that Stress can no longer keep her chest above the ocean.

    “This isn’t going to be a pleasant way to die, is it?” asks Stress, hands bleeding from the abrasive reef. 

    False shakes her head. “No. It isn’t.”

        The ocean is not a kind place. It never pretended to be. The two Hermits just happened to be in its way, and that was not the ocean’s fault. 

    The tide rolls in, just as False’s hand finds Stress’s.

    The tide washes out.

    Their newly-respawned heads break the surface of the water, gasping for air. This time, they’re face-to-face, and the coral is yellow. False wonders if it’s slightly softer than the previous kind, or if she’s just imagining it. Either way. Small blessings.

     Their eyes meet, and they pick up where they left off, only a touch sore. They don’t talk much this time around, except for Stress’s question about the message to Xisuma. And yes, False double-checked it was to the right person. She sends it again in the main chat.

 <FalseSymmetry> anyone there lol?

    Silence. On all fronts. Stress is making good progress on this new coral, until they both have to stop to fight an inquisitive drowned. Not an easy feat, but they manage, though the duo lose more hearts than False would like.

    Stress manages to get a leg free and starts kicking with renewed vigor, until she’s finally out. The water is lapping at their mouths now, as Stress frantically tugs at False’s cage.

    “C’mon,” Stress mutters. “We’re almost there…”

    A wave knocks them both underwater, and by the time Stress resurfaces, further away from False, the blond Hermit is completely submerged. 

    Stress thinks that she has never swum faster in her life as she races toward False, hoping against hope that there’s somehow still time to save her.

    She dives down to False, who is wriggling around frantically. She tugs against the coral, but she knows it’s too late. False lets out a scream, bubbles escaping to the surface, but points to Stress’s left. She’s confused, but she looks anyways--and the trident from the dead drowned is sitting placidly on a piece of sponge, unseen by both of them until now.

    Stress pushes off the battered coral, so close to breaking, but too far, all at the same time. She scoops up the trident and swims back to False, who’s starting to slow, eyes rolling up in the back of her head. With a mighty swipe, she clears the rest of the prison, and drags the unconscious False to the shore.

    Stress retches, the ocean coming out of her lungs in short bursts as she collapses on the warm sand. Next to her, False lies prone. She doesn’t know what to do. Should she put her on her side? Wait, isn’t that for drunk people?

    Hopefully, False will sort it out on her own. Hopefully. In the meantime, Stress realizes that the sun is setting. She needs to get them in a shelter, ASAP. There’s no time for even wood--she just digs out a small hole in a nearby hillside, and, breathing heavily, brings False’s body into it. It just barely fits both of them, but she’s grateful to have it.

    Stress can’t even think about dying again, if it means having to get out of that ocean. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to; False stirs to wakefulness sometime in the middle of the night, greeted with a motley chorus of zombie groans and drowned gurgles, plus a few others that neither of them want to try to name.

    They huddle together in the small chamber, wet dirt and cold stone stealing precious body heat. When morning comes, they stay there for a little while. Neither one wants to be the first one out, but eventually False stands up, the joints in her spine cracking like fireworks. She peeks her head out, but there seems to be no imminent danger at the moment, so she cautiously ventures onto the beach from their escape. A spider lies perched in a small tree nearby, but she leaves it be. As she looks out over the glimmering water, alight with the sun’s first rays, she sees the broken branches of the coral that trapped her and Stress, waves gently carrying away the scattered shards. She watches them for a second, and as she does, the tide washes out.

    The tide rolls in.

    They’re so careful. Neither one of them wants to go back to the awful enclosure of stony coral and risk having to repeat the experience. Monsters are run away from, shelters are dotted around the map like flowers, and their armor has never been more prized. The duo have awful luck mining, though. They barely get enough for decent gear, but Stress reminds False that they’re lucky. Judging by the death messages that scroll through the chat like clockwork, not everyone has been as fortunate as them. And at least they have each other.

    Or they did, before Stress falls into a soft bed of bone-chilling powder snow, along with a few creeper friends.

    False doesn’t ever want to see that same look on Stress’s face ever again. It’s imprinted into her mind now, a mix of surprise and awful resignation.

    She types out a frantic message on her communicator. It doesn’t work. It hasn’t worked for weeks now. She knows it doesn’t work, and Stress does as well. But it doesn’t stop her from imagining where her only companion is right now, sending her chat after chat, begging her to come help her escape from the watery grave.

    False considers respawning. Back where Stress is. She could help her then.

    False would consider herself a practical person at heart, but she has never before been in a situation like this. Hermitcraft has never had a situation like this. She considers her options, falling back against the rough trunk of an oak tree, leaves raining down on her impassive face.

<StressMonster101> drowned.

    She’s taking too much time. There’s no more room for error. Only action. Rustling through her pack, stuffed to the brim now with the remains of Stress’s inventory, she realizes that she has to find a way to get these items back to Stress. If she manages to escape on her own, they can meet up halfway there, and if she doesn’t, then False will have her work cut out for her. 

    It’s a backtrack of nearly two weeks. False does it in four days, not stopping to rest. She wishes desperately for a saddle, but when she happens upon a meadow full of horses, she grabs the nearest one, swinging herself upward onto the back of a very unwilling participant. False doesn’t care. The horse accustoms itself to her surprisingly quickly, and though False’s legs ache from the non-stop bareback ride, she knows she’ll get to Stress sooner with it. Turns out, golden apples can make a horse go through the night.

    She names the horse Salvation. Sal, for short.

    The journey gives her brain too much time to think, so she doesn’t, just hangs on to the death messages in the chat. It’s gruesome, but they reassure her that Stress is even still in this horrible world. 

    Sometimes, there’ll be a lull in the terrible rhythm, but those never last for long.

    During a quick break, she gets bored and puts a braid in Sal’s mane, then uses a few of the nearby flowers to decorate it. She doesn’t realize until she re-mounts him that they’re alliums.

    The tide washes out.

    When False finally arrives at their old beach, she nearly cries in relief. Instead, she screams out Stress’s name as she jumps off of Sal’s back. Stumbling into the waves, she repeats her cry, voice already starting to go hoarse.

    “Stress! I’m here!” False shouts. “Stress!”

    She’s up to her neck now and there’s no sign of her. Maybe she made it out. Maybe False would believe that if she hadn’t just seen her death message on her communicator.

    False treads water, weaving between the elaborate natural structures that make up the reef. She’s almost about to give up when she hears a weak cough, and rounds the corner to find an emaciated Stress, hanging from the coral wrapping her body like an exoskeleton.

    “Stress, Stress, I’m here,” says False, wrapping her arms around the other Hermit’s body as tears start to stream down her face. “Oh my g-d. We need to get you out of here.”

    Stress looks up at her, the first sign of movement she’s shown since False laid eyes on the woman. “You came for me,” she whispers. “You really came.” Her eyes flutter shut.

   The tide rolls in.

    Stress wakes to a gently crying False, who’s sitting beside her on the beach. Attempting a smile, she nudges the other Hermit. “Doing alright?”

    False smiles at her. “Never better.”

    She lets out a whistle. “Ok, so, correct me if I’m wrong, but you managed to get here quite quickly, if you came all the way from where I left?”

    “Sure did.”

    “How?”

    “Well, meet Sal,” False says, pointing towards the forest behind them. “He was a big help.”

    Stress squeals, and she thinks she can almost feel her eyes getting bigger. “Are those flowers?” She hobbles over to the horse, latching onto his neck. “I love him!” 

    False laughs, and Stress thinks she’s never been gladder to hear someone do so.

    “But seriously, though.” False pauses for a second. “I think he’s going to be pretty important if we’re heading towards spawn.”

    Stress nods. “Yeah, I think that’s a good plan. Bound to be a bigger concentration of Hermits there, right?”

    “Exactly. Listen, this time we’re going to be super careful about beds. I’ll make sure we upgrade our armor as much as possible. I’ll do better--”

    Stress puts a finger up to False’s lips, startling her into silence. “Nope. You did the best you absolutely could. I will have absolutely no self-blaming on this road trip.”

    “Road trip?” False asks, nose crinkling.

    “Absolutely.” Stress responds. “This is Hermitcraft! We’re here to have fun and make friends. And I see only one direction for that.”

    “To spawn, then!” False laughs, mounting Sal and hauling Stress up after her. 

    “To spawn!”

    The ocean watches the two ride off with mild interest. They’ll be back, after all. Sooner or later, they’ll always be back. No one can leave for long. But for now, it has other...friends to take care of, and the tide, as always, washes out.

[thechaoticfanartist]

The Screams Of Empire Day

Words: 3800

Summary: It is Empire Day, marking the twelve year anniversary of the rise of the Empire. Or for Grim the twelve year anniversary of the day the screaming began. To distract herself from the screaming of a long dead friend Grim decides to give the Empire a nice gift, only things go wrong and Grim is captured by the Empire, leaving her wife Ahsoka Tano to save her.

Pairings: Ahsoka Tano/Grim (OC)

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Death, Post Order 66

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mandomydad @mildy-radioactive @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @milf-luminara @milfphasma @zeldaiscool19 @touchstarvedasclones @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin

Read On A03

His screams echoed in her head. It did not matter that those screams were from years ago, she still heard them, and she could never be rid of them. Years and years of hearing those screams, the horrible wails of agony haunting her, and the sinking guilt of knowing she could have prevented them. Grim had people for her now, she was never alone, she had her wife who would always stay by her side no matter what, still Grim feared to tell her what went on in her mind everyday, the screams that she could never escape. Today the screams were even louder than normal, today she couldn’t escape the screams, as today was the day that the screams occurred. Twelve years today Grim saw such gruesome things, things that as a teenager she never should have seen, but by then she had seen many things a child should not have seen. Today was Empire Day, the day where people celebrated the rise of the glorious Empire, and though Grim knew that the people who celebrated it weren’t aware of the horrible crimes that had happened that day she couldn’t help but feel angry at them. They could celebrate while all she could do was hear screams and mourn the horrible day it all happened. The day Grim witnessed more death than she should have ever seen, nay more death than anyone should have ever seen.

Grim got out of her bed, she gave Ahsoka a glance and kissed her on her forehead before heading outside their home. They lived on a quiet world, well it was quiet until several months ago when the Empire arrived. They had considered leaving but they had decided against it, perhaps they could help the people on it. The wives had yet to do anything heroic though, and for the most part they stayed off the Empire’s radar, though Grim was a suspect for criminal activities by them after she had blown up one of their tanks. She had gotten yelled at by her wife afterwords, having placed the two Jedi at risk, and Grim had no excuse, she was only doing that to vent out some anger at the Empire. Grim sat down in a field not far from their house at the edge of the town they lived in, and looked up at the sky. The sky was littered with stars, and distant planets, and had three very beautiful moons. Moons that Grim still wasn’t used to, it was funny, Grim had been in Star Wars for fifteen years and still wasn’t used to seeing multiple moons in the night sky, and for the three years she had spent staying with Obi-Wan on Tantooine she hadn’t gotten used to seeing two suns in the morning sky either. Grim had only ever been in one place that reminded her of her old home from her universe, yes universe, that was one of the many things special about the Jedi, that she wasn’t even from the universe she lived in, but from the one we are from. Grim continued to watch the early morning sky that still shared the qualities of night, she would not be able to lay back in bed with her wife, nor sleep again later, for the screams echoed in her head.

Yes we arrive back at the screams, to whom do the screams that haunt the Jedi belong to? Well it changes all the time, but mainly the screams belonged to that of Anakin Skywalker. Grim had been there on Mustafar for that fateful battle on that day, though she did not fight in it, for before that battle had begun she had lost an arm to Skywalker, having rushed to Mustafar without her master to help. After seeing that recording, watching as her friend cut down innocent children, and the masters that had tried vainly to protect them, Grim was filled with such an anger and hatred and rage that she had never felt before towards the man she considered her brother that she wanted to see him dead, and Grim knew her master would not be able to strike him down. Oh if Ahsoka knew of this, Grim was sure Ahsoka would despise her and Grim would not blame her, as Grim despised herself after all. When Grim had arrived on that hellscape of a world, she had marched towards Anakin, her lightsaber already ignited, the purple standing out against the reds,oranges,browns,and yellows of the planet’s surface. Grim had the full intent to strike down the fallen Jedi, but Anakin had stopped that with a swift slice of his own blade, severing the arm from the girl. Grim had been moments away from losing her head as well if it weren’t for the arrival of Padme Amidala. When Skywalker had noticed her ship arrive he pushed Grim back, as well as her arm and ran to greet his wife. Grim hadn’t bothered to watch, she could only stare at the arm that used to be attached to her, and stare at the scorch mark that was on the shoulder, where the blade had met flesh. It was not until she heard the ignition of a lightsaber that she looked away from the arm, only to see to her horror a duel began between Anakin and Obi-Wan. Grim had wanted to join, and had even pried open the hand that was no longer attached to her in order to retrieve her lightsaber. It was hard to do as she only had one arm left and it was her right arm, which was not the one she used, but she did manage in the end to pry her hand open. It was lucky that she had designed her saber to be curved as that was how she removed it from the hand, by using it as a lever and prying open the fingers. Once Grim had done that though she was already too late to stop the Jedi, and when she caught sight of them again Kenobi had already reached the high ground. He had warned Anakin to not do anything foolish but the fallen Jedi was too wrapped up in the dark that he did not heed his former master’s warning and Kenobi had sliced off Skywalker’s remaining limbs where he then fell into the lava and set ablaze, leading to him screaming. The same scream that haunted Grim now in the present as she watched the moons set and the sun rise on this awful day.

Such an awful day it was, to others it meant the day a horrible war ended in victory, the day the bloodshed ended, and the day peace once again ruled. That was a nice idea, one Grim wish was true, for if it was she could enjoy this day, and perhaps even ignore the scream that grew ever louder. It was the scream that reminded the Jedi what today really represented, This day was the day an entire people were massacred, leaving very few left. This was the day that children were slaughtered without mercy in their own home, a place that they thought safe, a sanctuary from the war that burned across the galaxy. This was the day that men who had grown to be more than the soldiers they were bred for lost their identities, their minds wiped clear of their emotions, leaving them only a faceless army as they butchered their friends, family, lovers, without remorse and only because they could not feel, not after the Sith had taken away their minds, their lives. Yes, Grim was aware that it wasn’t only the Jedi that suffered horribly that day, she knew the clones did too, and now just like Jedi very few clones remained. Today was the day that the light went out in the galaxy replaced by the dark masquerading as a friend. Grim laughed hollowly, despite the atrocities people still believed the dark really was the same as the light’s embrace, but in reality the darkness suffocated people, and they choked on it believing it to be the warm hug of the light. Empire Day was not a day to be celebrated but a day to mourn the many who suffered on that day and the years that came after. If you were a Jedi who survived the atrocity of Order 66, you would still be hunted and killed, or worse, you would be captured, tortured, broken until you became a tool for the people who killed your family and sent to do the same, a shell of the person you used to be. If you were a clone you would live a shadow of the man you were until the Empire lost its use for you and then you would be discarded like garbage and left to rot and die all alone, for no one cares for a clone. The Jedi cared for them, but the Jedi now lay as corpses, many dead by their own bullets.

The sun was now fully in the sky and Grim noticed as the early risers began to wake and make their daily routines in life, sighing knowing that this meant her time of silent mourning was over Grim stood up and headed back to her home. Ahsoka would still be asleep and so Grim considered trying and getting some rest but she knew it would be pointless, after all Grim could not sleep with the awful day that had begun. What was worse was Grim knew she had to go along to the festivities, though she found comfort in the fact that she would not be alone, Ahsoka would be by her side. Still Grim was angry today, because as the scream reminded her, today was the day people suffered horrible fates. Grim decided she was going to get some revenge today, even if revenge was not the Jedi way, there were no Jedi left to stop her. Upon reaching her home Grim began to plan to sabotage the parade that would go through the town today. When it would start it would end, for Grim planned to rig it to explode when it powered on. The crime was not as big as one that fit the Empire after what it did but she felt it would suffice. Grim checked the time once she had finished her plans, she still had another hour before Ahsoka would wake up, and so Grim left the house again.

The town was full of stormtroopers paroling the streets for anyone who might try and sabotage, so it was a good thing Grim wasn’t on the streets. Grim leaped from the roofs, careful to avoid being spotted by the troopers. She enjoyed the rush of bounding from roof to roof, the wind flying through her hair, the energy that pumped through her, the pounding of her heart, and if she closed her eyes she could almost feel like she was a padawan again. A young and reckless child unaware of the horrors she would face, yet untouched by the darkness that would tear away her innocence. A smile came across Grim’s face as she remembered her silly game with Cody, all because of Obi-Wan’s reckless habit of dropping his lightsaber, the smile fell when Grim realized they never did count that final point, and see who won the game of who could pick up Obi-Wan’s lightsaber more. Though Grim’s sadness did not last long as she continued to imagine the better days, the friendship she built with Anakin, dealing with silly rumors that she was the daughter of Obi-Wan because of their similar features, though Grim only felt they shared the same color of hair, and his was more red while hers more blonde, she never did get what other features they shared that made people jump to the idea that she was his secret daughter. Suddenly Grim felt a very sharp pain in her legs and she shot open her eyes, she hadn’t even realized they had closed while being lost in memory. There was screaming and at first she thought it was the same scream that echoed in her head but then she realized the screams were coming from her, realizing this Grim covered her mouth, but it was too late several stormtroopers had heard her cries and ran to investigate. “Um, hello there,” she greeted awkwardly, the pain in her legs caused her ears to ring and her vision was blurry from unshed tears of pain. Though her vision wasn’t so blurry for her to not see the stormtrooper look at her bag. The black bag had fallen off her during her tumble from the roof and it had opened the contents having spilled out, revealing several objects that were enough to turn her in for treason, the most prominent of those objects however was a black lightsaber hilt with a red curved end. The stormtroopers pointed their blasters at her and Grim raised her arms in surrender, there was no escaping this.

Grim was led to the imperial base, and she did not fight back, unable to do so in her condition. She noticed that the trooper in front of her was looking at her lightsaber with much curiosity, “what, never seen a Jedi’s lightsaber before?” she asked him. “I’m not surprised, after all twelve years ago today your Empire killed all of us, not even sparing the children,” she added, her tone calm, hiding her fury well.

“Shut up, you scum,” the stormtrooper shot back, clipping her lightsaber to his belt.

“ Scum ?” replied Grim, offended. “It was the scum of the Empire that eradicated my family and friends, slaughtered children, and still does so without much care. Tell me, trooper who truly is the scum?” she asked, fury seeping into her voice.

The stormtrooper did not reply, and Grim held her head high as she was taken into the compound and led to the holding cells. The entire time she was being led, Grim observed the area, mentally taking notes of every small detail, any openings she could use in an escape, cover in case of a shoot out, and that seemed inevitable with her escape, subtly had never been her specialty, as her master would always tell her. Every tiny detail that she could use Grim would note for later, creating a mental map of the facility. When they reached her cell the troopers violently shoved her inside and closed the metal door, locking her inside. Now Grim was alone with only her thoughts to keep her company, her thoughts and the screams. Empire Day was never a good day but it really wasn’t a good day today. Grim could only hope the Empire did not recognize her, she could not deal with Vader on top of everything else. Though Grim would not mind being tortured right about now, she knew it would happen and right now she could not stand being alone with his screams. Perhaps that was her torture to hear the screams of her brother, though she knew the Empire did not know of what haunted her, today more than any other day. The cell door opened and a man dressed in the dull grey of the empire came in, Grim looked up at him, “come to question me?” she asked the man, once the door closed behind him leaving the two alone, except for the two stormtroopers that stood at either side of the man.

The man stood directly in front of the Jedi, “perspective little Jedi aren’t you?” he remarked calmly.

“Perhaps I am,” Grim spat back, trying to maintain what little dignity she had left.

The imperial chuckled, “and feisty too.” His expression turned stern as he stared directly into Grim’s green eyes, this made her uncomfortable and she shifted slightly to avoid his gaze. “Now Jedi, what is your name?” he asked.

“Something that doesn’t belong to you,” she spat. “Very few can speak it, thanks to your Empire’s genocide of my family, I will not have an enemy know.”

“Well I need something to call you, Jedi.” he retorted.

“Call me Jedi just as you have,” Grim shot back. “It’s a nice reminder that we’re not all gone.”

“Enough with your games, Jedi, what is your name?”

Grim stopped her smirk dropping. Messing with this man was dangerous, she could tell. Taking a deep breath Grim considered all her options, she still had the force, and she could probably take out the two guards in the cell with her simply by banging their heads together with enough force to knock them unconscious and then she could take one of the blasters, and with that she could threaten the man that was questioning her, causing the two guards outside her cell to rush in, and she could use that opening to escape the cell. She could make the rest of the plan on the go. “My name is…” Grim reached out into the force and grabbed hold of both troopers and banged them together, causing them to drop their blasters and go down. Then with the force she called one of the blasters to her, “Jedi.” Grim pointed the blaster at the man, and then said loud enough for the other guards to hear, “open this cell or he dies!” The man began to reach for the other blaster but Grim kicked it out of the way, “don’t think about it,” she told him sternly. The other two troopers rushed in and Grim fired the blaster, the bolts hitting them in the heart, killing them both instantly, then Grim ran out and locked the cell door, leaving the man trapped.

Grim began running as fast as she could towards the exit, but halfway there she remembered she needed her lightsaber. “Lightsaber is my life, I can’t lose it,” she muttered. Grim changed course, she didn’t know where her lightsaber was being kept but she trusted that the force would lead her to it. “Oh force, I’ve turned into my master,” she realized much to her own horror. Just then the alarms started the blare, “kark,” she said, “they’ve realized.” Grim started to take off even faster, stormtroopers began to shoot at her and Grim shot back, rolling behind a crate for cover. “Heh, look at me now, using a blaster, how uncivilized,” she joked to herself.

There was the sound of lightsabers igniting and Grim turned around to see Ahsoka standing over her, her white lightsabers standing out against the dull grey of the Empire’s design. Ahsoka tossed Grim her lightsaber, “well if you need a more civilized weapon.”

Grim grinned, and ignited her purple saber, and stood up joining Ahsoka in deflecting the shots. “Thanks for the save, babe, but I think I had it under control,” Grim told her.

“The alarms, and blasterfire say differently,” Ahsoka replied, getting in front of Grim and redirecting a shot that almost hit her. “Not to mention you were going the wrong way for your lightsaber,” she added.

Grim rolled her eyes and positioned herself to be back to back with Ahsoka. The two Jedi fought off the stormtroopers together, the troopers dropping dead like flies as the wives overpowered them. “Just like old times, huh?” Grim asked as she deflected another shot. “Except instead of droids it’s stormtroopers.”

“And instead of having backup it’s just us,” Ahsoka retorted as the two turned around, switching spots. “Seriously, Grim what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could give the Empire a gift for Empire Day!” replied Grim, sending a shot directly at a stormtrooper’s head. The two switched around again, “force! Where are all these troopers coming from?!”

“Where do you think , Grim?” Ahsoka retorted.

Grim looked around confused before realizing Ahsoka was talking about how they were in the only imperial building in town. “Oh.” Again the two switched, fighting perfectly together, “when are we gonna get out of here?” Grim asked.

“You didn’t have a plan?” Ahsoka asked, shocked.

“Have I ever?” Grim retorted, sending a kick to a stormtrooper's stomach causing him to tumble to the ground.

Ahsoka sighed, sometimes her wife could be really tiring, “not really, okay follow me,” she deactivated her blades and Grim turned around and followed, deflecting any stray shots. The two Jedi reached the exit and ran out into the streets, where Grim instantly collapsed into Ahsoka.

“Looks like I’ve fallen for you,” Grim joked lightly.

“Not the time!” Ahsoka shouted.

“You’re right,” agreed Grim, “but seriously my leg is injured I can’t run anymore.”

Ahsoka sighed and picked Grim up, carrying her like a bride, Ahsoka looked down and saw Grim’s face. “Don’t,” she pleaded.

“Just like our wedding.”

“Yes, because I remember running away from the Empire while having to carry my injured wife on our wedding day,” Ahsoka remarked.

Eventually the two reached their home, and upon doing so Ahsoka dropped Grim on the couch and locked all the doors in the house. Once she was sure they were safe Ahsoka turned on her wife, “Grim, what were you even thinking?!”

“I’m sorry, Ash, It’s just it’s Empire Day and I….I couldn’t stand the idea of people celebrating today when today is also the day…” Grim trailed off and bowed her head. “The day....” tears filled her eyes.

Ahsoka’s face softened and she sat down next to Grim and held her gently. “The day we lost everything,” she finished for her. Ahsoka sighed and brushed her fingers through Grim’s hair and Grim allowed herself to cry for the first time today. The two of them just sat there on the couch in silence, save for Grim’s sobs for the longest time.

“I-I was there,” Grim choked out after about half an hour. “At the temple I mean, I saw it, saw what happened to it,” she explained. “The younglings ...oh force, Ahsoka the younglings , they had been slaughtered without mercy, it was horrible,” Grim began to sob again. “Their faces still haunt me, the betrayal etched on them, killed by those they trusted. T-then Anakin. ..his screams , I hear his screams everyday, oh Ahsoka I am so sorry , they’re all dead because of me, will you ever forgive me?”

Ahsoka held Grim even tighter and kissed her on her forehead, “Grim,” she whispered softly, she brushed away some of the hair away from Grim’s face, “of course I forgive you,” Ahsoka put her face closer to Grim’s. The two Jedi stared into their eyes, green and blue, then slowly Ahsoka brushed her lips against Grim’s. “It was never your fault, and never will be,” Ahsoka kissed Grim, closing her eyes. Grim smiled against the kiss and kissed Ahsoka back. Maybe Empire Day wasn’t all bad.

[lailannajacobs]

Good Intentions & Broken Promises | Prologue

Pairing: fey!Loki x fem!reader 

Chapter Summary: You’re summoned before Odin while Loki learns there’s a storm coming. 

Warnings: None! 

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This little chapter is a set up for what’s to come so it’s not the most exciting, but I hope you enjoy all the same! I’m really excited about this fic and I’d love to know what you think! <3 

There was never anything good about being summoned before Odin. Not the first time it had happened and not any time since. The only difference between then and now was that you knew what to expect, and unfortunately for you, it was never anything good. You jut up your chin, the anger thrumming through your veins keeping you warm.

Every step you took down the pristine, snow-white hallways to the throne room felt like a march toward death; only the death you were walking toward wasn’t your own. You couldn’t explain why this time felt different, but you knew deep in your bones that it was. You could handle it if it was your life on the line. You’d been trained to accept that your life would always be second. What you couldn’t handle was knowing that if he asked you for the impossible, you would lose the only person you cared about — the one person that was alive, not only because you loved her, but because she was too important to be killed by the tyrant sitting on the throne. Your only mission was to keep your sister alive. Everything else, including revenge, came second.

Your escorts pushed open the doors, freezing air rushing out into the hall to greet you. The king, like most people in this realm, thrived in the cold, their powers akin to the everlasting winter that was Niflheim. All the Frost creatures had varying degrees of power, but none that match that of the king. Sitting on a throne carved from ice, the palace was almost as cold and cruel as he was, the cold biting through your thin sweater. For the average human, the palace was practically unbearable, but you were neither human nor a Frost creature. Your ability to blend in with humans was the only reason he had never found out who you were — the reason both of you were still alive.

King Odin brushed back his white hair, tiny flurries of snow bursting at the movement. He appeared uninterested by your arrival, half asleep on the throne, but the slip in control of his magic spoke otherwise. Something had pissed him off and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what it was. His icy blue eyes narrowed and you were afraid he could sense that you were itching to find your sister somewhere in the palace so you could grab her and run so far he’d never reach you. The day he had captured you, Odin had made her a part of his court as collateral for your good behaviour — a decision he’d only made after torturing her so that I would agree to work for him. It was nothing more than a glorified prison, but at least she wasn’t in the dungeon.

Making sure your face was nothing more than emotionless mask, you waited, refusing to speak before he did.

“Vojak,” he used the native term for soldier. He’d never once spoken your name and you seriously doubted he could figure it out to save his life.

You bowed deeply, “I am yours to command.”

The words tasted like acid in your mouth and you fought the urge to straighten and wreak havoc on the palace, knowing you were far too outnumbered, even with your abilities, for both of you to make it out alive. For now, you had to play the obedient soldier until you thought of a way to get you and your sister out, and you held the bow until he told you to rise. Even now, after decades of ruling, Odin never tired of watching his subjects bow to his power. You could only dream of wiping the sneer from his face.

“Enter Natasha,” he barked.

Your sister walked into the throne room, head down, with two guards flanking her. Her face was paler than usual, with dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. It didn’t mean you could breath any easier. The fancy dress and meticulously braided hair was a poor attempt to hide the fact that he hated humans and was biding his time before he could revive the war on purity.

Nat refused to look at you. You didn’t want her to either. Any shared look could mean either of your deaths, no matter how innocent. Her fingers tapped twice at her side, somewhat easing the pressure on your chest. Two taps: I’m okay. Your own tapped three times on your pant leg: I love you.

“I have need of a book,” King Odin boomed, jolting everyone to attention.

Your heart dropped in your chest, dreading what he would say next. There was no doubt in your mind which book he was referring to. After all, there had only ever been one book worth having for a power-hungry narcissist. Only the book was a myth; it didn’t exist. You rolled back your shoulders, counting the massive icicles dripping from the vaulted ceiling to keep from crying out or attempting to kill him before your failure brought his wrath down on Nat. You tried not to let your emotions carry you away. He hadn’t asked for the impossible yet. He could be talking about any book. You didn’t need to get riled up and do something stupid.

“The Hand of Damnation,” the words, spoken so casually, sucked the air from your lungs and you couldn’t breathe, “I have word that it’s in Asgard. I need it. Retrieve it before the Orange Moon.”

He didn’t need to threaten you; the words went unspoken. If you didn’t get the book — the most infamous artefact in the nine realms — then your sister would die, but not before a long and torturous session to remind you of your failures. It didn’t matter that he was asking for the impossible. It didn’t matter that Asgard was an island with nothing other than rumour coming out of it. It didn’t matter that since the war, the magic-welding Fey had closed their borders except for their port town. All you knew for sure was that anyone who got past that town didn’t come back out, all you had were six moons to get in, get the book, and get out.

A guard stepped away form the king’s side and handed you a black pendant, no bigger than an apricot seed hanging off a thin, black rope. There was no design on it, and to anyone else it wouldn’t look like anything other than a simple gemstone, but you knew different. You’d been handed the horrible thing too many times before. When it turned white and freezing , your time was up. You slipped it around your neck, already feeling like it was strangling you — another gruesome reminder of what would happen if you failed.

You lifted your chin, surprised by the sound of your voice when you said, “consider it done.”

Gamora walked into the courtyard, an expression on her face that Loki couldn’t decipher — not that he’d ever had much luck knowing what she was thinking. All he knew for sure was that whatever she was coming to tell him couldn’t be good.

“Found anything?” he asked by way of greeting.

She stopped a foot away, the gentle breeze ruffling her long, dark hair, “nothing of concern to me.”

A sense of dread gripped his stomach and he jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Whenever Gamora wasn’t needed in Asgard, she was gone, searching the other realms for a way to break her curse. She shouldn’t have been here today. She should have been in Alfheim, which could only mean that whatever she’d seen had been too important to ignore. Loki wasn’t sure he wasn’t to know what it was.

Still, he found himself asking, “how bad?”

She fixed her gaze on him, her dark soulless eyes the only indication of what she truly was, and confirmed what he’d already guessed at, “enough death to have brought me back.”

“Can I stop it?”

She was already here so his question was in vain, but he’d needed to ask it anyways.

“Not all of it,” she stated with absolute certainty.

Loki shivered, though he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. He wanted to ask her how to stop it, but the how was a question she’d always refused to answer. Loki didn’t know if she refused because she couldn’t tell him or because she didn’t want to, but he knew there were other questions she would answer that were worth almost as much.

“What causes it?” he asked.

Her lips puckered in disgust, the most emotion he’d seen on her face in a long time, “your sister is coming. Hella intends to take back the throne.”

[that-good-trash]

Please Don’t Go

Bakugou x reader / Kirishima x reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, self harm, angst, heartbreak

Word count: 8.3K

Summary: Sometimes things happen that you wish you could change,fix, but you can’t. Instead you are left suffering with broken pieces and suffering worse than you’ve ever dealt with. The person you wish was helping you keeps hurting you while the person you didn’t know you needed is holding you together.

Comment: I just really like angst since it seems to be the only thing I can write recently. I guess I’m kinda stuck in a sad rut myself. I hope you all enjoy it. 

PS. Also thank you all for 100 followers! I love all of you and you all matter!

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“It is 3 in THE GOD DAMN MORNING, WHAT THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT FROM ME!”

“Morning Katsu, have you ever thought about the stars and how they always exist but we can only see them at night.”

“…”

“Katsu…”

The sound of a single click could be heard. You stare at your phone for a moment knowing that he had hung up on you. You sigh laying your head back down on your pillow. You knew that you should have told him the real reason you had called but couldn’t find the strength to do so. Your ‘boyfriend’ if you could actually call him wasn’t the type to listen to your nonsense. You didn’t mean to beat around the bush, you wanted to get to the point when it came to conversation. It was hard for you to tell people what was really going on inside your brain. Bakugou Katsuki had a way of letting you know when he was irritated with your run around way of speaking.

You can’t fall asleep because of the thoughts swirling around in your head. You had the pressure of millions of gallons of water on your chest and head. You wondered if this is what a submarine feels as it dives deeper into the darkness of the ocean. Your eyes were still red and hadn’t gotten a chance to fully dry. Crying was something that you tended to do a lot prior to recent events that lead to your current state. Now your tears hurt more than usual. You couldn’t figure out if they hurt because you had been rubbing your eyes frantically or because of the circumstance in which they were there to begin with. A sniffle followed by the sound of your own choked sob breaks the silence of the room. Your crying again, alone. You alone crying holding so much pain and loss.

***********

“Y/n will not be in class today, again.”

My Aizawa gave class 1A the heads up before turning back toward the board to talk about today’s itinerary. The class wouldn’t have had any reason to worry had this been the first absence. However, this was absence number three and you hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts. Actually, the only person who has actually claimed to have seen you was their teacher. No one had seen or heard from you in the days you had been missing. Over the weekend you had left the dorms to return to your actual home because of reasons that escaped everyone’s knowledge and you hadn’t returned yet. It was beginning to worry everyone especially those that had grown to fond and close to you. Midoriya was twiddling with his fingers and mumbling words of worry under his breath. Your name had passed through everyone’s lips as they questioned your lack of presence in school.

“Hey Bakugou, what’s going on with Y/n?”

Kaminari, whose voice is lacking its usual cheer, chimes in behind the angry blonde. Bakugou growls in response but doesn’t actually say anything. Kaminari puts his tray of food down on the table next to Kirishima who looks a mix between angry and tired. Before Kaminari had walked up Kirishima had been trying to get information out of Bakugou as well. Bakugou had snapped at the red head that he ‘DIDN’T KNOW SHIT’. Kirishima was having a hard time believing his best friend but at the same time he knew how little Bakugou actually tried to be in your life so it made sense if the agitated boy was telling the truth.

“Dude, for real though, Y/n has missed a lot of school. I hope she’s okay.”

Kaminari was just trying to give his honest feelings but that didn’t sit well with Bakugou who slammed his hands down in frustration. He never got the chance to speak since Mina and Sero had come to the table restating the previous concerns that everyone in class had been having. Bakugou, in a fit of anger, throws his uneaten food away before storming out of the cafeteria.

“What the heck crawled up his ass and died.” Sero looks at Mina who spoke up with her own irritation. She and you were really close. She loved you like you were her own sibling and wanted so badly for you to answer her messages. She was not as understanding as the boys in the squad and found Bakugou’s behavior childish. She sits down with a sigh trying to calm herself down. Sero squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

**********

While, your concerned classmates continued their school day, you laid on the couch of your empty home. The only thing keeping you from breaking down for the hundredth time was the purring cat curled up against your lap. Your fingers trailed along her fur as the familiar warmth tried to keep you stable. Your mother had told you, before she left to work, that you couldn’t miss any more days of school and tomorrow you would return to the loud energetic halls of UA. Just the idea of going back in this state made you sick to your stomach. You have to swallow down the acid rising out of your throat.

As you lay on the couch your phone chimes again. They are a persistent class but you are spiraling into a hard depression. You already struggle with depression but never made it obvious so people wouldn’t be bothered or feel like they have to ‘help’ you. Now you were gone, in a world different from everyone else. You had wondered if you had the fare if you would find the ferrymen Charon and request, he take you away. You’d rather be whisked away by a mythological Grim then face another day with this horrible pain. You had never felt more alone than you did now. You didn’t care about the messages that came to your cellphone because none of them were from the person you needed it to be from. You let your eyes close and the moment that brought you to these horrid thoughts and feelings beginnings replaying.

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

“Hey mom I was just about to go watch a movie with some classmates, what’s up.” You hadn’t expected a call from your mother. She usually just texted you. A call meant something serious usually so you were already on edge before her words put you over the edge.

“You need to come home.” Those are never good words unless they come from a parent who just misses her child which definitely wasn’t your mother.

“What? Why?”

“Something has happened, I’d rather tell you in person.”

You had never heard you mother sound so blank and yet had concern laced in her voice. You had grown worried with what could have had happened. You would never had imagined what really did transpire. You had left the dorms with permission from Aizawa seeing as it was already late. You heart was racing as you said goodbye to your friends before leaving. The way home felt longer than usual but you eventually made it home. Your mother and you sat in silence for ages before she told you. No beating around the bush, she was always blunt and straight to the point.

“Your friend from middle school, F/n. She’s dead.”

The words hadn’t even settled into your mind before the tears came rushing out of your eyes. Your own body reacted before you could. This was something you fought mentally. There was no way that she was dead. You couldn’t imagine her gone. This was all wrong and you were waiting for your mother to admit this was some sort of sick joke. It wasn’t a joke and she wasn’t laughing. She looked sad, not for the death but for her daughter. She was feeling sadness for you. You shook your head over and over but she nodded to reassure you this was real life. You had indeed lost your middle school best friend. Your mother went on to hand you a box of tissues before giving you the more gruesome parts of the story.

“Your friend didn’t just die. She killed herself. She had gashes going up her arms from a knife that was found near her bathtub. She had used her quirk to weigh her body under the water and essentially, she drown herself before she could bleed to death. Her mother found her and was announced DOA. I’m sorry Y/n. I realize this is more than you’d like to hear but it is good to help you understand that she was sick. I told you this before that she…”

The words your mother spoke faded away. You couldn’t hear her over the sound of your screams that had begun to come out of your mouth. Your body shook violently and you ran to the bathroom to throw up. The taste of tears and bile lingered on your tongue long after you had stopped vomiting. Your mother brought you water and a towel as you sat on the bathroom floor. You kept picturing your dead friend with blood down her arms and water surrounding her. Had she cried? Did it hurt. Why the hell didn’t she reach out to you. You know you couldn’t say those things because middle school held you both together. You struggled with your physic and social anxiety while she struggled with everything about herself. You both were each other’s rock. You always complimented her and she beat up your bullies. After middle school you had gone to UA and she didn’t make the cut. You cried but she smiled and told you everything would be okay. Now she was dead and you couldn’t breathe. You mother was now on the floor holding you trying to get you to use your lungs which were betraying you. You just kept thinking about her bleeding to death in a hot bath while drowning at the same time. You had always expected to go to her graduation or her wedding one day, not her funeral. What didn’t help this situation was you had no one to talk to about her because she was a loner. You were alone with this pain even though you knew you had people you could seek comfort from. You didn’t feel like you deserved comfort while your former best friend was lying in a cold box at the hospital. You eventually had fallen asleep on the floor and your mother attempted to carry you to your bed. You woke up to the feeling of all the emotions hitting you all at once. As another panic attack came you reached for your phone hoping that your boyfriend had messaged asking if you were okay. He hadn’t. He hadn’t messaged at all. You called despite the time being close to two in the morning. After six rings he answered.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP. WHATEVER IT IS CAN FUCKING WAIT.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond before he hung up leaving you in a worse broken lonely state. This news, this night had begun your spiral that lead to your current state of barely existing on your couch waiting for any form of death to take you.  

***********

“Are you fucking serious!!!” Kirishima was yelling uncharacteristically at his best friend who was now wide eyed at the red heads lashing.

“You really haven’t tried talking to her? What kind of boyfriend, HELL what kind of friend does that? You told me she called you the nights he went home. Why the hell didn’t you let her speak!”

“MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!”

Bakugou was now pissed, his quirk activating to prove just how upset he is. Kirishima doesn’t flinch when the first blast hits him. He’s already was one step ahead being used to having to use his quirk to defend against his friend’s attacks. He wasn’t going to hit back but found himself grabbing Bakugou’s wrist and throwing his arm down telling him to stop. Bakugou doesn’t like that and goes to attack once more but doesn’t get a chance before Kirishima’s fist makes contact with his face sending him backward with scrapes against his cheek due to the first having been hardened.

“You’re a lot of things Bakugou but I didn’t know you were so fucking heartless man. Y/n needs someone and you have chosen to ignore her. It doesn’t matter if she called you at ungodly times, she deserves your attention and respect.”

Bakugou is left with Kirishima’s words and disappointed look. Kirishima isn’t going to stand around. He had gotten your address from Mina who begged him to let her know how you were doing. She was too afraid to see you in case you were avoiding everyone on purpose. Kirishima was going to see you no matter what because that is the manly hero thing to do, hell that’s just the right thing to do.

***********

Your front door had never looked so menacing till Kirishima felt like he was intruding and felt panicked that he might have crossed a line. He had to shake the thoughts away, he couldn’t run away now. He was already here and he needed to make sure you were okay. A deep breath in and a knock on the door. He waited before knocking again. You opened your eyes and for a moment you thought that maybe Bakugou came over. Only a few select people knew your address and you knew it wasn’t going to be Mina or Midoriya since they had texting you telling you they’d give you space and not come by without your permission. That left one option. You threw open the door with tears already clouding your vision. It wasn’t what you expected or wanted; it was what you needed. Kirishima couldn’t even speak when he looked at you. His chest tightened and he wanted to cry. Your face had gotten thinner and you had bags under your eyes that were darker than Mr. Aizawa’s. Your hair was messy and your clothing was obviously pajamas. Your eyes were blood shot and he could see scratch marks all over your arms from your panic attacks. Kirishima wanted to do and say so many things in the moment but instead he did the one thing he thought you needed. He opened his arms and gave you a look of comfort. A sob escapes your lips as you run into Kirishima’s arms. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling into the darkness, and maybe he was. Your tears soaked his shirt but he didn’t scold you like Bakugou would have. Bakugou was weak to tears he hated them, while Kirishima wasn’t weak to them, he was standing here crying with you. He was sharing your sadness when he didn’t even know why you were sad. His arms held you tightly afraid that if he lets go your collapse. He waits till you’re ready to pull away. Eventually the tears run dry and you’re just standing there engulfed in Kirishima’s warmth. His body feels safe and you are thankful for his presence. You shuffle backward slightly causing his hold to loosen to let you move away.

“Would you like to come inside?”

You would have started with asking him why he was here but that was a stupid question. Anyone would be worried if their friend was MIA for almost five days. Kirishima smiles and your heart beats. You almost forgot that you had one of those. You walk inside and Kirishima shyly follows after you. He looks around the living room while standing in your doorway. It seems cold but he can’t decipher if that’s due to actual temperature or because he can tell this is where you’ve spent a lot of your time crying. Tissues and a garbage can sit next to the couch which has two large blankets thrown over the side of it. There is a golden-brown furred cat stretching out before curling back into the abandoned warm spot left by you.

“Shoes.”

“What?”

Kirishima had been so focused on assessing his surroundings he hadn’t caught the first half of your words.

“You gotta take off your shoes.”

Duh, shoes. Kirishima wasn’t ill-mannered but in a situation where he is in an unfamiliar place with someone, he is very worried about he forgets the simplest things like removing your shoes. Once his shoes are off and guest slippers on his feet, he makes his way over to your side. You’ve now sat down on the couch pulling a large blanket over your shoulders while your fingers brush along the content looking cats’ fur. Kirishima doesn’t want to intrude so he chooses to stand, he waits for the right moment to ask why you are in such a state of disarray. He doesn’t want to be the one that speaks first. The silence is very heartbreaking since he knew that you, even when shy, were very charismatic. You always shined when you spoke about things you cared about. You also had a hidden spit fire personality that he was lucky enough to have witnessed a few times.

While waiting for you to speak he realizes that your head has dropped down more and he can hear the slightest hiccupping coming from you. He doesn’t hesitate to sit down and wrap an arm around your blanketed shoulder. He pulls you closer to himself letting your head hit his chest while his hand moves comforting circling into your arm. The blanket is thick but it doesn’t completely prevent you from feeling the gesture. You are torn between enjoying this and crying even harder. He is so patient with you and that makes your crying worsen since this wasn’t who you wanted to see which made you regret wanting Bakugou. Kirishima was always a good guy but now you had him holding you while you sobbed. Now he was the ultimate good guy, someone who has reached the highest level, a god tier of good.

“Kirishima, why are you here?”

You had originally avoided asking the stupid question but you had to. You had to know why Kirishima was wasting his time on you, even if he would tell you that you weren’t. Your words had come out broken because of your crying.

“Y/n, are you serious? I’m here because you need someone. You have missed class for three days causing everyone to go into a worried frenzy. I couldn’t take leaving you alone when I know that you are the kind to separate yourself from everyone to suffer alone. I’m here for you, to be here for whatever reason you need.”

You had begun crying worse because of Kirishima’s words. His eyes widen before he begins to internally panicking. He pulls away from you before gripping your shoulders and looking into your tear-filled eyes.

“Y/n did I say something wrong. I just don’t want you to be in pain because of me. I’d never come here with the intention of causing you more issues.”

You didn’t mean for it to happen but a laugh escapes your lips. You can’t help your sobs turning into giggles because Kirishima truly looked like he had hurt you. He looks even more concerned. You have to shake your head to try and prevent him from beating himself over your newfound insanity.

“No Kiri, you didn’t say anything wrong. You actually said what I needed to hear. I need someone with me right now but I also wanted to suffer alone. I caused myself more pain and anxiety by forcing myself to choose between isolation and comfort. You went ahead and made that decision for me. I’m crying because of your kindness and laughing because you honestly think you had done something wrong when you have never done anything bad to me. If anything, I noticed that whenever I need someone or something you are there to help or comfort me.”

Kirishima was relieved to hear that he hadn’t done anything to upset you. He would have kicked his own ass for hurting you since that was unmanly. Your laughter had made him confused but your explanation cleared it up. He now didn’t look confused but instead had a slight smile. He wasn’t happy but content. It was nice to be something you needed. A deep inner part of himself cursed Bakugou for not being here for you. However, another deep part of him was glad that it was him instead that was here with you. He knew how Bakugou was with emotions and tears, he didn’t do well with them. You were better off with Kirishima. This was a thought you both had shared without letting the other know.

While Kirishima is lost in thought about how to ask you what’s been troubling you, your body shifts on the couch getting more comfortable against him. He blushes slightly but let’s that fade because this is no time for unrequited love or crushes. This was about the pain you were suffering through. Your eyes close as a tiny yawn can be heard. You are once again exhausted and since you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sleep earlier you hadn’t gotten any rest. Kirishima brought a feeling of safety and warmth you hadn’t felt since even before the horrid news. While your breathing began to steady you fell asleep. Kirishima gently moved his arm around your back to hold you closer to his chest. His hand behind your back began to rub gentle circles into your side. His other hand reached up and stroked your hair. The left side of your hair had a more course feeling to it and he knew why.

He had heard the story of how Bakugou had been calm enough holding you against him while stroking your hair. Though some classmates had come back to early and witnessed Bakugou being kind. They teased him not knowing the consequence you’d suffer. Bakugou had ignited his quirk without pulling his hand away which caused your hair to burn and the side of your face to erupt into hot excruciating pain. You had cried but also tried to tell Bakugou it was okay and not his fault which was stupid. He of course loudly agreed because it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so close to him. The pain of his words was almost worse than the physical pain you had felt. You had to be rushed to recovery girl who was able to treat the burns to a certain extent. You had to shave the side of your hair to help keep the burn covered in ointment. You knew that despite his words Bakugou felt bed because every time he looked at you when he didn’t know you knew; he’d have a sad face full of regret. You’d remind him that it was okay and that you liked your hair shaved. He’d just tsk like he always did but you knew it meant something to know you didn’t blame or fear him.

Even knowing that his best friend hadn’t meant to hurt you he couldn’t help but hate him for it. Why couldn’t he just see you for the great wonder that you were. He could imagine your smile when he closed his eyes, his hand still rubbing your side. Your smile that glistened like stars, that laugh that would usual follow was interstellar. You were a celestial child too good for this world and mostly too good for Bakugou. You were suffering alone while the blonde wallowed in self-pity. Kirishima still had no idea what had happened to you but he was here no matter what it was. If you asked him to leave, he would because he cared about what you wanted. He was here for you and yet he still felt selfish. How could he pretend to know what you were going through? Except he wasn’t pretending, your exhausted demeaner and tear stained face gave away something bad had happened. He didn’t need to know why he just needed to hold you till you slept away the dark circles, till your eyes were no longer bloodshot but gleamed their gorgeous color.

“Katsuki.” The words were spoken in such a small broken voice with the slightest hint of hope. Maybe you wanted him to be someone else and maybe he would be just for you. Though Kirishima wouldn’t be him, anyone but the boy who chose training over his girlfriend. He held you tightly while using his free hand to catch a few of his own tears.

“I got you Y/n. I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

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

“Kirishima…Kiri…Eijiro.” Kirishima smiled in his sleep, you were calling his name and he thought it was in his dream. A huge smile spread across his face while he rested. You were awake now, fully awake. When your eyes first opened you swore you were dreaming because Kirishima was holding you against himself while sleeping. You almost panicked when you realized you were awake and this was your actual classmate. You tried to pull away but his grip tightened. His hot breath against your face made you embarrassed, made your already warm body hotter.

“Y/n.” Feeling your name spoken against your ear drove you out of his grasp and onto the floor with a loud thud. The sound of you hitting the floor caught his attention, waking him up. You looked up from your spot on the ground and he looked down at you confused. Your face was red and your eyes avoid contact. A quick realization and Kirishima’s cheeks matched your own. He was quick to sit up off the couch, hands reaching down to help you up. You both looked away as you were pulled back into a standing position. You could feel your heart pounding and his hand was a little wet from sweat. He was still holding your hand. That changed when you both heard someone clear their throat. Your mom was standing in the doorway, she was obviously confused by the stranger in her living room. You pulled your hand away and looked down. Your mom wasn’t mean or judgmental, she was realistic and blunt. You expected her to comment about seeming fine or asking about your boyfriend. She remained quiet before switched shoes. She walked toward the two of you. Kirishima held out his hand after bowing in respect. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. L/n, I’m a classmate of your daughters, Eijiro Kirishima.”

“Y/n.” She shook Kirishima’s hand before looking at you. Your body was stiff. You had drifted into a painless sleep, actually got some rest, hadn’t thought about HER. Till now, you were almost numb and could breathe but looking at your mom you remembered the pain that had plagued you. Your chest was tight and you wanted the floor to swallow you up. Kirishima wasn’t dense, he felt the shift in the room. You were in excruciating mental pain when he came by earlier and now you were reverting back to that. His hand reached out grabbing yours again. Your mother looked between you both before directly at you.

“I spoke to F/n’s mom. They are having a service and I think it would be good for you to go.” Kirishima had no idea who she was talking about but the way your body stiffened before shaking this was a sensitive topic. What happened that made you like this? Your mother left you in the confused hands of the red head, who wished he had more to work with.

“Y/n… What happened.” You collapsed so fast that Kirishima almost couldn’t catch you. He was fast but not fast enough as your legs buckled and your whole top half crumbled onto the ground. Your face was red enough to match his eyes and your eyes were red enough to match his hair. You looked like a fish out of water gasping for hair while trying to find a way out of this. Desperation crossed your features. Anything was better than this pain, this loss. Your hiccupping drove Kirishima to his knees. His hands turned you gently till you were on your back. The sounds of your choked sobs, the way tears drift down your cheeks and into your splayed-out hair, the sporadic moment of your chest, it was all harrowing to witness. How could someone who always kept a smile on everyone’s face be so broken. He found himself crying with you, for you. His own tears falling onto your face before mixing in with your own and slipping down. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted too. You tried to speak but lacked oxygen enough to do so. Kirishima pulled your body upward holding you against him. Your chest pressed against his as he rubbed your back. He felt the wet pools against his shirt. He didn’t care that you cried on him. You hiccupped out an apology but it wasn’t necessary. You both stayed like this even as the sky outside darkened. Even when your mother yelled about dinner being ready. You still remained in Kirishima’s safe hold. He had his own dried tears and his hands never stopped soothing you. Eventually your words could slip out.

“My childhood friend committed suicide.” Kirishima stiffened. You spoke the words with so little emotion. Like you had cried away your sadness and was left numb again. He pulled you away so he could look into your bloodshot eyes. There were distant, like you were physically here but mental gone. You looked into his own bloodshot ones. He held all the sadness that you thought you lost. He held your pain for you and he had no idea what you were dealing with, he was truly empathetic. “She hurt herself and then she… she… she used her quirk to drown herself.”

The details didn’t matter because a dead girl was still a dead girl. Hell, a dead anyone was still someone who was dead and that itself was sad. The circumstances were cruel. It was like saying someone died fighting an awful fight, except they had fought themselves. A truly cruel disease depression is. Kirishima didn’t know what it felt like to want to die but he would never think less of someone who did. How could the world have such a negative sigma toward depression, maybe if it was normal then your friend would still be here. He blamed a cruel society and you blamed yourself. He realized looking at you that you felt responsible and for a moment he wished he could have told you how people are responsible for their own decisions but that wasn’t his place to comment. This wasn’t about him it was about your crumbling state of mind and your dead friend. You needed support and to hurt. This was necessary to heal.

“Tell me about her.” Your own mother wanted you to get over the pain like it hadn’t happened but here someone was, someone who owed you nothing, validating your loss wanting to know about your lonely friend. You smiled and yet the tears came back. You cried like a child who needed affection. You cried for your friend and her story. You were ready to tell him about her and you did. You spoke through sobs and Kirishima was patient. He listened to every painful part and every happy moment. He laughed at your inside jokes and cried at the painful abuse self-inflicted and household. Your friend was becoming a part of Kirishima’s thoughts as he filled it with your memories. He couldn’t believe that you were suffering alone with all this. Your own boyfriend not caring to listen or even check up on you.

“She sounds like a wonderful person and I’m so sorry that she is gone. I’m sorry that she left the way she did and I am sorry that you believe you contributed to this. Y/n, I know it won’t change anything but you didn’t do this. You can’t blame yourself or think about all the things that could have been done. Right now, you can only mourn and remember her for who she was and not who you could have made her. I didn’t know her but I know you and I don’t want to lose you because you waste away from guilt. Go to the service and say goodbye because she deserves that, but also live your life for her.” If words could truly heal people than Kirishima would have mended all these mental wounds for you. You would have smiled and thanked him but that isn’t how the real world worked. Pain, grief, any feeling between doesn’t go away with a few strong words but it does help. His words make everything more real; they make your feelings valid but also through you into a position where you have to face the truth. He isn’t wrong, you have to let blame dissipate. The thing with grieving was it takes time to help, to let go. You weren’t even half way there but you felt better knowing someone was in your court, someone hurt with you but also helped you hurt in the right way. Isolation is painful but being with him was restoration. You felt more like you now than you did hours ago.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” The way you looked at Kirishima with shy eyes made him smile. “I’d love to.”

The two of you collected a plate of food and sat quietly at the table, Eventually Kirishima couldn’t take the quiet and started telling you about school. You weren’t opposed to the conversation especially since all you had to do was listen. He talked about things that had happened in class avoiding talking about Bakugou and how everyone was sick with worry. You laughed at a story he told about Kaminari and Mineta getting chased down by a flock of girls they spied on. You laugh was genuine, like a gentle chiming of bells. Kirishima wanted to hear more but wouldn’t force anything to soon. A knock at the door brought attention away from the meal and conversation and to the living room. Your mother wasn’t expecting guests nor were you. Fear bubbled up again. Who could it be now? Kirishima was a blessing but another classmate might upset the balance. Kirishima shared your worry as he followed you to the door. Opening it you were both shocked to find your homeroom teacher. Mr. Aizawa looked unamused as he watched Kirishima try to move out of sight. His hand thrusted out pushing the door all the way open. Kirishima looked at him with a half grin hoping he wasn’t in to much trouble. You giggled at the red heads guilty demeanor. Your attention returned to your teacher as he looked at you. The two of you shared a look. His face wasn’t hard and stoic like usual. It held a twinge of sorrow.

“I am here to receive Kirishima seeing as he left without permission and stayed out past curfew. I’m also here to give you my condolences. L/n, I’m sorry for your loss. Losing a friend is hard.” You had cried for days straight and for the first time today you didn’t cry. You nodded accepting his condolences and understand that as an adult pro hero he has dealt with a lot of loss. You thanked him in a small voice which he acknowledged with his own nod. Kirishima didn’t want to leave you, he needed to know you’d be okay. That feeling came in the form of you hugging him.

“Thank you Kirishima. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” The smile you gave him matched the star above and he would remember it. Your still red eyes and stained cheeks were brokenly beautiful under the moonlight the slipped in through the open door. Kirishima bid you good night before you shut the door. You were exhausted and wanted to sleep. Maybe this night would be peaceful, you could only hope. With less pain in your chest you put away the food, turned off the lights, and headed to bed.

Elsewhere, heading back to the dorms Kirishima kept thinking about you. Aizawa stood next to him as the walked back to the large building. Kirishima turned to his teacher finally curious on how he knew that he had been at your house.

“Mr. Aizawa. How did you know that I was at Y/n’s?”

“Bakugou told me.” When the doors opened to the common room of the dorm building Kirishima made direct eye contact with a conflicted Bakugou. He looked furious and concerned. His fist clenched with intent to harm, or maybe to prevent himself from wanting to do so. Mr. Aizawa left the two boys alone reminding them they needed to go to bed. Bakugou never acknowledged their teacher, while Kirishima let out a quick yeah. Once they were alone Bakugou stepped forward. Kirishima watched his friend with caution. He waited for an explosion or yelling that never came. Instead he sighed, unclenching his fist. He looked at Kirishima with a look the red head had never seen before, remorse.

“How is she?” Kirishima could feel the tables turn. He wanted to be anger, to tell his friend to fuck off because he had the chance to find out but didn’t. He wanted to be aggressive and anger but it wasn’t in his blood. He had to let that anger disappear and be replaced with weariness.

“How is she? She’s tired bro. She’s dealing with stuff that someone shouldn’t have to deal with alone and yet she has been. She’s a fucking wreck!” He couldn’t suppress all the anger. He hadn’t meant to yell but it was needed. He couldn’t understand why Bakugou had just let you waste away on your own. How could anyone do that to the person they loved. He would have never let you go this long suffering alone. “She lost someone close to her. Y/n’s leaving a nightmare, becoming friends with demons of blame. She needed you!”

“She didn’t need me.” Kirishima slammed his hardened fist into the wall not caring about the damage he caused. The sound made Bakugou flinch and lift his hand as an act of defense in case he would get hit next. When he looked at his friend, Bakugou expected to see extreme detestation. Instead he was wide eyed while staring at Kirishima crying. Tears came down the mixed emotion boy, he was struggling with how to feel. He was crying for you having to have a boyfriend who thought you didn’t need him. He cried because he would never let you go if he had you. Bakugou watched Kirishima drop his arms to his sides before leaving. He pushed his shoulder into Bakugou’s as he left toward the elevator.

“She needed you… You are just so full of yourself you won’t admit you messed up.” Kirishima didn’t even try to make his words sound powerful, even in their whispered state they hit Bakugou worse than any punch. Once he was alone in the dark room Bakugou let a tear fall. He looked down at his clenched fist. He felt pathetic. He couldn’t hate Kirishima because he was right. Pride was all that Bakugou had and he held it higher than you. He cared more about his image, about himself than you. Time and time again he hurt you and now he had truly fucked up.

“She didn’t need me when she had you. You’re better than me.” Bakugou spoke to the empty room letting more tears fall before going up to his own room. He didn’t spare Kirishima’s room a glance as he walked by. His heart hurt because he had to do something horrible to you in your already crumbling state.

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

The morning came and you woke up with your alarm. For the first time in days you slept the whole night. You dreamt of her but it was good. You were both happy and laughing and that was okay. It was okay to think about happy times and not bad things. Negative feelings still lingered but you tried to think positively. You got ready for school and before you left you grabbed a photo of you and F/n from middle school. She was flipping off the camera while you laughed with your eyes closed. It was bittersweet. The photo was tucked away into your pocket and you left.

“Y/N!!!!” You were tackled by so many different people that you couldn’t even figure out exactly who yelled your name. Mina was holding you left side, Kaminari on your right. Midoriya was standing in front of you concerned as Uraraka hugged your front. Sero was wrapped around your back. Iida was scolding them for not giving you space. A laugh escaped and everyone awed. You were bombarded by questions; it was overwhelming and you wanted to run but then Kirishima walked into the room. He made eye contact with you and smiled. It filled you with content and confidence to be here. You heart was still heavy and everything seemed surreal but you could make it through a day. You could tell her story to everyone so more people could mourn with you. It was a plan you’d follow through after class. Bakugou walked in a saw you smiling at Momo who commented on your swollen eyes. Your smile wasn’t sad, it was something he couldn’t figure out. He looked away as you turned toward him. His hair was wild, more so than usual. His hands tucked away into his pockets. He seemed like normal Bakugou but something was wrong. He wasn’t standing as tall, metaphorically. There was less fight in him. You grew concerned but that faded to wanting. You missed him, you truly missed him. His warm arms wrapped around you protectively, the way he smelled sweet like caramel. You wanted him to look at you with the loving gaze he saved for private moments. He found himself making eye contact with you and god did he yearn to run to you. To apologize, to hold you and kiss your swollen eyes. You were his happiness; it just took him so long to realize how bad he was for you. His eyes looked away and you looked down. A large gap filled with talkative students filled the space between you both. Except there was a different gap, one that needed to be filled by talking which he was scared to do. One that only you two could see, well maybe not, maybe Kirishima could too.

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

“Bakugou!” He cringed at the sound of his last name which was ironic since he was the one that told you to call him it when in public. This was self-sabotage, torture he was inflicting on himself. Your voice called his name with concern. He had been avoiding you all day and after training he left first making sure you couldn’t catch up. Obviously, he was wrong. You caught up and when he stopped you were breathing heavily. He wanted to scream at himself for being such an asshole but instead he waited for you to speak.

“Um I’m sorry for bothering you with my calls. I was having a hard time but I shouldn’t have woken you up. It was selfish of me.” How could you stand there and blame yourself, apologize for something that needed no apology? He did this to you, made you feel like you were a bother, like you had wronged him. He was to blame, he wished you would yell at him, that you would cry. He hated your tears because he was weak emotionally but right now, he wanted nothing more than for you to cry and he could hold you. Except he wouldn’t he would be scared and that would turn to anger and you’d be hurt again. “Bakugou?”

“Shut up.” He had to break your heart so you could be happy. He had to hurt you so someone could heal you. Shattering glass was easy but shattering a person’s heart. That was truly fucked up. “You always apologize for shit that you didn’t do, its annoying. I know you lost some friend; I know you’ve been suffering and yet I didn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t there for you. You needed me and the fucked-up part was that I didn’t care. I left you to suffer alone, I only realized I cared when I felt guilty, after everyone shamed me for hurting you, for letting you isolate yourself. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this to you anymore.”

You are frozen in a moment where your friend killed herself and your boyfriend leaves you. A moment where you broken heart turns to ash. You can taste iron and realize you had bit your lip so hard it started bleeding. The weight of his words pushed down like a pallet of bricks. You were struggling to stay standing, your knees wobbled as you attempted to step forward, to reach for him. He moved just out of your reach. You were afraid of him leaving and he was afraid if you grabbed him, he would stay and do more damage. His own fire that burned in his heart felt dim. His chest was tight and he apologized to anyone he ever made fun of for having their heartbroken. This was worse than damage received during training. You tried to speak but found the same issue you had with Kirishima the day prior. The words were drowned out by hiccups. You let the streams of tears flush down your cheeks. You looked pathetic but who cared. Your heart wasn’t breaking. It was ceasing to exist.

“Please, please don’t leave me. Don’t do this Katsuki, you love me, I love you. I’ll try harder, you aren’t a problem. You don’t hurt me. I love you please don’t leave me alone again.” He could have swept you into his arms but by the time he turned to face you again someone else was on their way to do just that. Bakugou smiled sadly as Kirishima rushed forward. He didn’t want to let you go but he needed you to be loved properly and he didn’t deserve you. Little did he know what he was doing. He was destroying your already fragile state. You weren’t breaking, you were already fragments scattered at his feet. Your legs moved trying to stop him from walking away. Kirishima was faster. He wrapped an arm around you face covering your eyes with his hand. His other arms wrapped protectively around your middle. Your back was flush against his chest and you didn’t want this. You cried against the hand. Your tears smearing onto the rough appendage. Kirishima’s heart broken for you. “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE, don’t leave me too.”

“You aren’t alone. You have him.” Bakugou walked away his own tears hidden from you but Kirishima had seen them. Kirishima swore he would protect you and love you but his own heart stopped when you yelled after Bakugou.

“I WANT YOU NOT HIM!” A sad shameful thing love is. These two boys loved you and you loved them. It was much more complicated than that. You fell back against Kirishima who was stiff, his own heart hurting. He knew that this wasn’t about his love for you but instead the pain you felt. You needed someone to catch you since you were falling. He held tightly onto you as Bakugou fought the urge to take it all back. He had heard his classmates talk about your friend and how sad you were when you told them about her. You were dealing with enough and you didn’t need him. Maybe one day if life isn’t always cruel you will find love in the form of an angry blonde again but right now you needed someone else. Someone who could put emotions away to help you with your own. Bakugou walked out of your life leaving a gap that Kirishima couldn’t fill. Your friend had left you forever but this didn’t have to be forever right? Bakugou would still be in your life. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. You wanted to disappear. To go back to that dream where you laughed and danced with your friend. You wanted to go somewhere that boys didn’t break your heart and friends didn’t kill themselves. That place didn’t exist but you found that Kirishima’s hold would have to do for now. You clung to his arm as he whispered encouragement and apologies into your ear. His hand moved off your eyes and you grabbed it. Your fingers entangled with his as you both cried for life’s difficult decisions, for a girl who thought life was to hard to live, for a boy who destroyed his own happiness, for a red haired boy who wanted you to know how much he loved you, and you both cried for you. For you having no happy ending, just a lot of pieces that Kirishima was trying so hard to hold onto for you while other pieces broke away never to be reattached.

Sometimes life doesn’t go perfectly, sometimes people dies and they don’t come back, people break your heart and leave you with open wounds, sometimes you can’t make the pain go away. You have to learn to live with it. Maybe one day you’ll find Bakugou and he’ll tell you how much he fucked up and you’ll tell him you still love him. Or maybe one day you’ll let Kirishima give you his heart and you’ll slowly give him what’s left of yours. Though there is a possibility that you never fall for anyone again because love sucked and you had none left to give. Your friend would tell you to kick Bakugou’s ass, to get ice cream, watch a movie, break something and then you’d laugh because you’d feel better. She isn’t here. Instead it’s you sobbing into Kirishima’s arm in an empty hallway but it won’t always be this.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I know Kiri.”

“One day it won’t hurt so bad.”

“I hope so.”

[eloarei]

A little rambling: on grief; and grieving a dog, a cat, an unborn child, and pieces of me that got hurt along the way. 

2300 words under the cut. 

It’s a very gloomy day today. I don’t usually mind; I like rain. But on a bad day, or a bad week, it only seems to insulate me in my own dark thoughts. That’s what today seems to be. I’ll work on fixing it later-- getting some exercise, sunlight if the clouds clear, making some tea. Should’ve done that already, but I forgot. Ate half a banana, at least. 

As I’ve complained about a few times lately, I’ve just not been doing especially well. When and why did it all start? It’s hard to say, but this ‘unwellness’ spell seems most potent starting April 11th (my anniversary, unfortunately, which is why I can remember it), when I came down with a gruesome stomach bug. Really haven’t been feeling right since. I’m really bad about being sick; it scares me and I handle it badly. I assume that’s part of what has messed me up. 

But grief is the other part, I think. Grief, and my being scared and worried that what caused it could strike again at any minute. Look, I’m... 32 now, and I’m sure that most people by this age have experienced profound loss. I’m probably not unusual, and I’m certainly not alone, but I think all the loss I’ve experienced is just piling up on me now, like there wasn’t enough time to process the new fresh ones before newer fresher ones came on, and so now even the old tough scars are aching. 

When I was a teenager, my parents died. They were old, and it was health problems. It was not a surprise, but that didn’t make it easier to deal with in freshman year of high school. (What made it easier to deal with? Rabidly cleaning out the fridge and watching Lord of the Rings tapes the neighbors lent me. That’s all I did for three days after my mom died.) It’s been a long time-- more than half my life ago-- and I do feel like I’m ‘over it’, but sometimes it just wells up, tears from nowhere. Maybe that’s just how grief is. 

A certainly had a good decade of my 20′s. I got married at 19, and had a pretty uneventful set of years. That felt normal to me. I do think, though, that the loss of my parents haunted me in that time, quietly. It influenced everything I did; it probably still does, if only because it changed the person I have become. But other than that, things were good, I think.  My dog Roxy died two years ago, when I was 30, not long after I got back from seeing my siblings for the first time in ages. She was violently ill, and died right in front of us as we were getting ready to take her to the vet. I think I’ve written about it. In fact, the next day I wrote a depressing fanfic piece, certainly as a coping mechanism. (It made people cry, so, mission accomplished, I guess.) I think that helped a lot. A few months later, my in-laws’ dog died too, while mom-in-law was on vacation, and that was rough as well. I wrote another sad fanfic about death. I really like both of these pieces, because they mean something, and they’re very raw. Furthermore, I’ll always have them, as tokens for Roxy, Ginger, and the little pieces of me they crushed when they died. I don’t know if the exchange is worth it, but it’s what I have. 

My grief over Roxy was gentle, as time went on. It didn’t bother me. I think I’d processed it well. I’d written out my feelings. I held her body in numb arms as my husband dug her grave. It was okay. 

In early 2020, basically on my 31st birthday (and right as Covid was happening), I found I was pregnant. Long story short, those were the densest two months of my life, where everything seemed to change so quickly. My thoughts and feelings could fill so very many pages; this is not the place I’ll leave them. The point of this particular story is that it didn’t work out. The baby ‘died’ not terribly unlike Roxy had-- violently ill, in front of me, with far too much blood. I passed out three times-- the real start of this current fearful nature, because I cannot overstate how very much I felt like I was going to die. I went to the ER; it was miserable, an ordeal I could say quite a lot about. I won’t, though. I have before, and I likely will again, elsewhere. 

This... This grief... I think I still don’t know what to do with it. I don’t think I ever will. Months later, I started writing a fic to deal with my feelings, though it took 90k words and many months before I got to the part where I could really delve into my trauma. And it has helped, I’m sure. I’m really sure. And I care about this fic so much, because like the others it is raw and real and it’s something I’d never have if not for my experience. Again, it may not be a fair trade, but it’s what I have. 

I don’t grieve for the baby. It didn’t make it far enough to even have a heartbeat. It doesn’t have a name, a gender. It doesn’t have a grave. We let the hospital take care of it. But I still grieve. I’m sad. Wrecked. I grieve what it could have been. I grieve the hope that was spent and lost on it, a precious resource that will take a long time to grow back, if ever. I grieve over not only my own disappointment, but my husband’s, and my in-laws. They’ve never pressured us to have kids, but they’re in their 60′s now, with no grandchildren. I think they feel... lacking, in a way. I understand. I feel the same (though different). I wanted to give them that. I wanted to have that. 

I still....?

I can’t say. I don’t know what I want. The event complicated my already complex emotions. I’m still waiting for them to simplify. Maybe they will, or maybe they won’t. 

I was alright for a while. Stressed enough because of Covid and family’s declining health. Then in early April 2021, just a year after the miscarriage, I got badly sick. Gross, but not what most people would call a real issue. But only a year after the miscarriage, when my body betrayed me and I was at its horrid mercy, this felt like too much. Again I felt like I was going to die. A week of near delirious fever and nausea; I’d have handled it badly enough in any other circumstance. 

As expected, I got through it. A horrible week, but just a week (or so). And then my dog Tobi died, just days later. 

This is it. This is the one I... I’m speechless about. The one I... maybe haven’t processed enough. I was just back from the edge of being badly, violently ill. I didn’t have the energy to write, physically or emotionally. And that just made it worse. I love writing. It’s my outlet (surprising, I’m sure). I wanted to write. I thought I ought to write. I needed to write. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t muster the words. I still... can’t. 

Tobi was... my baby. Not literally, of course. I didn’t conflate him with my lost child or anything. Tobi was 14. I’d had him since I graduated high school and got an apartment. Adopting him was one of the first things my husband and I did as an established adult couple, before we were even married. He was there, at my wedding. The photographer took a cute picture of me holding him before the ceremony. He was 11 months old at the time. Still had all his brown spots before they turned tan, then later white. He was there; he was always there. He was my entire adult life. And now I’ve lost him, the pup I had longer than my marriage (though soon we will outlast him). He was the big brother to all my other pets. He practically raised all the cats, and they adored him. (Tobi was a chihuahua, so they might have thought he was just another cat.) 

He was a sweet boy, who loved his mom and dad first and foremost. When he was little, he was scared of everyone else. Eventually he warmed up to strangers and friends, and in his old age he mostly liked to nap somewhere on his own. He was silly and playful; he always chased the cats when they wanted to be chased. It was a game they all loved. 

The vet... well, we took him in when he started to cough badly. He’d had a cough for a few months, but it wasn’t constant and didn’t seem to be affecting his quality of life much. But that day it was bad, so we took him. (We can’t afford frequent vet visits, so this was clearly desperate.) The vet took him and put him on oxygen. We had to stay in the car because they weren’t open for human guests. Then she came and told us a scan had revealed cancer, marbled through his lungs. He was suffocating. In fact, he wouldn’t likely even make it home, not even the two mile drive. We had to put him down. My husband and I cried like babies. We’d never put an animal down before. Generally speaking, we don’t really ‘believe in it’, if that makes sense. But faced with this situation, we had no choice. 

I didn’t see him again. I think that’s the worst part, though it would have been equally bad to see him, I think. And it was all so sudden. He was playing and chasing the cats the day before. Begging for treats of human food. Barking at the Roomba. And then I had to pay hundreds of dollars to say goodbye to him. It felt so unfair. I cried all day. My husband and I, we just went home and laid down and wept. 

But I still haven’t written about it, not in the way that I wrote about the others. For all that I wrote here, it doesn’t begin to encompass my deeper feelings on what it means that he is gone, and how I felt to have to make that decision. I have ideas. I think I know what I would write, if I could, but writing... still mostly eludes me. I may try. I probably should. 

I take a deep breath. I know I should sum this up and take care of myself, but there’s yet a little more to say. 

I think Tobi’s death is a large part of what affects me still, but several weeks ago I had what I could only call a panic attack. In the middle of the night I awoke, my heart beating rapidly, a horrible feeling of dread like certainty that all I could possibly do was die. It took over two days for me to feel mostly normal again, and then I still felt vaguely nauseous for two weeks. Then, just a few days ago, it happened again, but this time before bed. I could feel it rising in me, this indescribable sickness. It took several days ago before I felt normal. And this is where I am now. 

Sadly, a little while after the first panic attack, my husband and I failed to save a malnourished feral kitten. It was not a surprise, but yet one more reminder of the fragility of life, and how little I can do to keep death away from those I care about. This poor thing, it was so desperate to live, but nothing we could do could save it. I could have poured all my time into trying, could have scrounged up money to take it to the vet (when I should take my own cats, who all have colds), but I know better. I know... so much of the time, there’s nothing you can do. And now I’m trying to help what might be its siblings, a few cute feral kittens nearby. My favorite seems... a little lethargic, and not very interested in eating the wet food and meat scraps I sometimes bring by. I don’t think there’s anything I can do, if it ends up being sick, if it ends up being malnourished. I can’t bring it inside when it could infect my own cats. I have to care for them first. 

But knowing that it could die... it bothers me. 

And knowing that I could die. I could die. I’m too aware of that, on top of everything else. I hate doctors, so I never go. (Also I’m poor.) This toothache? Could be a terrible abscess. My brother went to the ER for sepsis from an abscess tooth recently! That’s probably what caused the panic, to be honest. But then... why have I felt so week? Is there a problem with my blood? Am I sicker than I know? Do I have breast cancer? My grandma did, and I know I should get it checked out, but it’s just ONE MORE THING. It’s always like that. 

And that’s... how I feel right now. Covered in ‘one more thing’s on rainy days and night-work schedules. Trying to take care of myself but not always knowing what that means. Lacking the inspiration to do the things I know I enjoy, because worry and apathy holds me back from everything. 

I’m okay. Really. No day of mine is ever entirely without merit, and I have plans to do most of the things that should keep me healthy. But the day is short when my needs and long, and the day is long when I’m paralyzed by apathy. 

So. I’ll just take it a moment at a time. And when I can, I’ll try to keep writing. 

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 24: Gildeory Lockhart

The dull morning light cast just the tiniest specks of a rainbow in each little drop of dew hanging on the leaf in front of her face. She pulled back quickly to further inspect the pot, and then her proper surroundings of Greenhouse Three. Lily looked around swiftly, but in total ease of being in one of her favorite parts of the castle. The mist casting everything with a more mystical glow than any chalkboard filled classroom could, the warm smell of earth and the feel of a garden around her reminding her of her most pleasant childhood memories with her mother.

She noticed instantly the others weren't in quite as good a mood. Clearly being around more plants after yet another had tried to kill them wasn't helping anything.

Alice and Frank immediately backed to the glass-wall upon seeing more greenery around them, and all of the Marauders were now nursing head injuries to boot. She stepped forward at once and identified the foliage as Mandrakes, and spotted the green binding of the book blending in conspicuously with a particularly fat pot.

"Well, I think you're motion theory was just ruined," Alice sighed when they'd gotten their bearings.

"Why's that darling?" He asked, still inspecting the venomous tentacula carefully, which was currently slithering a vine along the ceiling towards anyone.

"We were in a moving car," Alice needlessly reminded, easily pulling his attention from turning on the spot and trying to find that book on Toadstools to follow this new idea. She even tried summoning it to her, but it seemed as no one had kept a conscious decision to keep it on person it had not traveled along. "The car clearly didn't come along with us."

He frowned around her, though it was rather apparent. "You're right, guess we'll have to come up with another idea." He stepped forward and brushed his hand across her forehead, where blood had already dried into her hairline and was still trickling towards her cheek. His thumb gently swiped at it, but when that only smeared it he pulled his wand and gently cast the worst of it off her.

"Thanks," she sighed, taking his outstretched hand.

"I think you were close with that movement idea," Evans offered, sidling up to them with the copy of Harry's life in hand. She was so distracted from her mind spinning at the possibility of all this she hardly noticed who she was speaking to, let alone she'd interrupted the pair. "The book moved with you because we were in motion," she emphasized by waving her arm about this new space. "That car was already in motion when we got there though, maybe that negated the affect."

"I can see that," Frank agreed.

"Well bully for Harry, getting to enjoy the after affects of hitting that tree!" A very loud voice said from right above him. Padfoot was very clearly more sore over the fact this kid had gotten such a reception over his more than any bodily injury Sirius now possessed. Remus didn't feel the same, just groaned and tried to bury himself further into the darkness of the dirt on his face, to avoid the sharp twinge of his rib-cage.

"Why couldn't we have appeared amongst a cheering crowd for surviving the same," another voice agreed. Slightly farther away, but just as familiar.

He was used to his rib-cage breaking. It did so once a month to accommodate another body erupting from his own. So he was quite clear on the fact they were not broken now, and still somehow found it comforting the effect would last much longer than just the night.

"Oi, Moony, quite taking a literal dirt nap and pay attention," Sirius was now nudging him in said rib cage. He sighed restlessly, inhaling some dirt for his effort, but sitting up all the same, holding himself carefully. He saw Sirius' remorse at once, and the swelling along his forehead an accompanying shade of bruise to still match the laceration around his throat. It matched the exact shape of the cars dashboard they'd just been in. He'd been thrown to the floor in the impact, so his sore body was probably the least of the damage.

"You alright?" He spoke quickly, looking around to everyone else to see the worst of the injuries.

Prongs and Alice both had blood still dripping down their faces, but both had already set about healing the injury and now it just left a gruesome affect. Peter was still holding his nose as if in great pain, but that seemed to be the worst of it. Everyone else was simply holding themselves stiffly from their new death experience.

"Sure," Sirius agreed with chipper as he folded himself beside him on the floor.

"Then clearly that impact didn't knock any sense into you," Remus said good-naturedly.

Sirius' eyes gleamed now, a teasing light so familiar he swore Sirius alone possessed it, had perfected it just for him. "I know I'm the only one you've kissed, so it must be torture, you going so long in between. You could always do so now, make it better." He unnecessarily indicated the dark shadowing at his right temple. "I'm sure that'll put something in me, eventually," he finished with a not so subtle shifting closer to him.

Remus snorted lightly and again looked very obviously around. The only obstruction was the long table before them holding many pots. He cared not enough to get up and investigate what they were, but even under normal circumstances this was not the place for such talk. Sirius' brazen whisper meant he must have hit his head harder than he'd thought, perhaps his ears were still ringing. It didn't mean he certainly wouldn't mind- "You're not the first person I kissed you know." He said swiftly, being sure to ruin his presumption, though it wasn't doing anything to put his mind elsewhere. He couldn't help but admit to himself he wasn't really trying.

"Really?" He sounded genuinely surprised, and perhaps even a trifle something else Remus wasn't sure of. Certainly not jealous, he'd made that clear. Hadn't he? He'd certainly thought so, but they hadn't really discussed this since back before the mess began, and they hadn't really started all this in the best circumstances... "Hmm," Remus hummed in agreement, deciding to think on this later when it was bound to come up again. "Ersa Melano."

"The Gryffindor Prefect! Moony, you sly dog," Sirius must be really pleased to use such a phrase on him, he noted bitterly.

"Prongs had been driving me crazy, insisting I was going to die alone because I was of age and hadn't kissed anyone like you three had. You know he kept setting me up, so finally I gave in. Don't know where he thinks he's got room to talk, considering the only person he's been with is Heather Valson and that lasted what, three months?"

"Two and a half," Sirius happily corrected.

Remus rolled his eyes but kept going, "anyways, so yeah, tried it out with her, and it wasn't bad." He kept going loudly before Sirius could interrupt to ask when exactly. No need to answer it had been after patrolling on the Fourth Floor, in the Prefects bathroom, when he'd been angrier at Sirius than he'd ever been in his life... "I certainly enjoyed myself, but it was only the one time, honestly I'm not even sure what all we did should count as a date," he trailed off with a far away gleam in his eyes. "She broke it off right afterwards though because I wouldn't tell her why I kept getting sick all the time and missing classes, she seemed to convince herself I'd given her something contagious." He finished with an awkward smile he only reserved for the werewolf humor he used on them.

Sirius' smile was nothing but sympathetic now, so Remus was sure he was overthinking the first reaction.

Peter watched restlessly as Remus and Sirius sat whispering in the farthest corner and James had eyes only on Evans. The chapter title was of no consequence to anyone, that pompous idiot would get one named after him. Evans had already dug right past that right into Harry's first day back at school, which started out quite eventful with a Howler of all things. He listened without much care as Ron's mother had a go at them. Frank was going through all the plants around them kindly and patiently with Alice. He spotted Regulus from the corner of his eye pacing restlessly near the back trestle table where all the earmuffs were stacked and waiting, eyeing the venomous-tentacula as he passed every sweep.

This was certainly nothing new, he wasn't even sure why it was hitting him so hard lately, but he couldn't deny the more frequently it was happening, the more it grated on his nerves he was once again left standing here without any of his friends taking notice, or trying to draw him into the conversation. He couldn't help blaming it on Sirius and Remus, a vicious edge to his thoughts as he glared at the two comfortably close together, smirking and laughing along at the door.

Things had been fine before their stupid spat, but when it had been going on both James and Remus had been so mopey he'd barely gotten a laugh out of any of them, yet he was still the one trying at least, and he'd thought they'd appreciated that. He'd missed Sirius of course too, but what he'd done had been horrible, and then he'd gone and acted like he hadn't even cared, treating them like they'd had the overreaction when he'd barely had one at all. Peter had even, foolishly he now realized, started to hope James and he could even do something together more often without Sirius always hanging around. It had never happened, and things had just gone right back to normal now without so much as a thank you to him for trying to keep it that way all along.

Lily couldn't help but smile with pride at Harry's guilt over what he'd caused the Weasley's. She wished he'd thought of that before he'd pulled such a stupid stunt, but it was such a good thing it occurred to him at all she'd have given him a hug if she could.

James was watching her smile, he always loved watching that the most as she rarely did it near him, but couldn't grasp why as he huffed in annoyance at Hermione's 'you deserved it,' air. He didn't dislike her, being the loyal friend she was, but he wished she wasn't so high and mighty about such a stupid thing as rules. It didn't help she was clearly so deluded by that idiot Lockhart, constantly trying to make a fool of his kid.

"Ouch," Frank winced in sympathy for Sprout having to tend to that mad tree. "Why would she put that tree in a sling at all? Surely the branches would grow back?"

"She'd no sooner make its regrowth harder than Flitwick would insult a student," Alice said with a kind smile as she glanced out through the glass window to see it set up just like that now.

"Lockhart's quite the idiot, thinking he knows better than Sprout about anything," James snorted enthusiastically, causing all three of them to jump, none of them had realized how close he'd gotten.

Lily sniffed and walked quickly away, intent now on the lesson about Mandrakes even if she knew plenty about them now.

James sighed in disappointment, but took it with his usual good grace and meandered back to his friends. Sirius and Remus were happily chatting away, but to his surprise, so was Peter with Regulus of all people, again.

James paused to access this for a moment. The first time he'd excused, trying to get Sirius' kid brother involved in a prank was quite brilliant, but seeing him do it now was just odd, what reason did he have? He'd never been one to postulate around, so he went over to find them in a conversation comparing the most pompous people they'd met. Not unreasonable, considering Lockhart was being one to Harry right now, lecturing him of all things on that flying car stunt.

"Really? I'd have thought Sirius was the worst in your family," Peter insisted good naturedly. "How can any Uncle be worse?"

"Don't ever take Sirius up on his offer of a family dinner, or you'll have to find out," Regulus chuckled. "This prattle Lockhart's going on about has nothing on Uncle Cygnus' stories about how he bested the worlds deadliest creatures. Man won't shut up about this Iron Belly he captured and put down in our vault."

James groaned as he jumped in by saying, "I'll bet Sirius hates that story in particular. "

"He does, as a matter of fact," Regulus' animated face dropped slightly as he eyed Potter wearily. It hadn't bothered him talking to Pettigrew, he'd made himself easily enough available over here muttering to himself, and he'd honestly just grown bored standing in the corner when nothing of interest was going on. Even now, Professor Sprout was going over the lesson on Mandrakes, something they were all well aware of. Now that Potter arrived however, he became much more aware of what his impulsive decision had lead him to doing. He didn't even know Pettigrews blood-status, how would this look to his friends, his parents?

It should have been even easier with Potter, Regulus tried to tell himself, he knew his blood status. He couldn't make the easy words keep coming though, now shifting guilty as if caught red handed.

James didn't seem to notice a thing, he had his head cocked to the side and was watching Evans again as some idiotic kid named Justin tried praising Lockhart's book, his Wanderings with Werewolves one in particular. He'd only skimmed a few sections and found it ridiculous, how could anyone fall for that?

Peter tried to reengage Regulus, mostly for revenge in James deciding to come over long after the fact when he'd actually had a conversation going. He was now being ignored by both.

Regulus couldn't help but be intrigued at Ron's broken wand and all the problems it was causing him. He remembered this redhead saying it was his elder brothers wand at some point, and so this one being on its lasts legs and not cooperating more than ever was fascinating to listen to. He'd interrogated Ollivander for ages on the properties of these when he'd first gone to him, pleasing his father immeasurably as he'd assured his son as they'd left the shop the wand-maker would likely make him his assistant in no time.

He and Frank were actually of the same mind. Frank had not forgotten what Ron had done for his son last year, and he wished he could do something for Ron now to return the favor.

Lily snorted violently at a kid with a camera appearing around a Potter. She was sure the one in here would actually pop from over-inflation, she still couldn't help picturing him instead of young Harry half the time.

Malfoy of course didn't help anything, and she really did wonder about that kid. He reminded her a bit of Sev, and she wondered what his story was, if he still acted around his friends or if he was a sweet, kind kid who listened to all of their problems. She sighed heavily as she realized she was projecting, how much she just missed her friend and wished she wasn't so alone on this journey, unlike everyone else who had someone to connect with.

James scoffed and got all huffy when Lockhart entered the scene and only made things worse, grabbing Peter and hauling him over to his other two friends.

"Do we know a Lockhart," he demanded of all three of them, "because we are soon. I'm sick of him singling my kid out."

"Not that I'm aware of," Remus shrugged without concern.

"They haven't said how old he is, so there's really no telling," Sirius shrugged, though his expression was a bit more miffed, briefly making James wonder what he'd interrupted them talking about. James pressed on anyways in a much quieter voice, "think I've got a new idea for Moony."

"Oh?" Peter said, finally looking like he was trying to be invested in this instead of making faces at them all. James also briefly considered asking what his problem was, but he had more important matters.

"Yeah, it'll only work if it's on Hogwarts grounds, but-"

He cut off, and all three of them understood why. Evans had continued all through their whispering, going on about Lockharts big-headed prattling and that stupid useless thing called a quiz that they all would have ignored anyways. Then the moron had let pixies loose in the class.

"Now see, why couldn't we ever get a teacher as mad as that," Sirius said at normal volume and then some, laughing like crazy.

"I don't believe that man's ever had anything to do with, any magical creature," Remus said slowly, for surely if he'd dealt with half the things he'd said he wouldn't be using such an obvious fake spell.

"What a fraud," Peter agreed impatiently, he'd already turned away from ignoring this and wanted to hear Prongs' plan, but all three of them were laughing now and concocting ways of doing this school wide in the castle.

When Lockhart vamoosed from the classroom leaving the kids in place and everyone else was just laughing at all these antics, Regulus again wondered if he was the only one wondering at the mystery at the beginning. Dobby had not made another appearance, though he was still sure his guess was right about it being the house-elf trying to keep the Potter kid out of school. The first day of classes had come and gone without a real incident, so those 'terrible and unspeakable,' things hadn't started up right away. Was anything at all going on, or was that house-elf as mad as his brother claimed this teacher was.

[chiefnooniensingh]

I find a light of my own (a joe x nicky one-shot)

Rating: T Warnings: None, just some good old fashioned fluff. Summary:  After every mission, Joe and Nicky have a ritual. So, too, after the whole Merrick debacle. A/n:  Pure fluff because the angst in my last two fics was killing me. Also on: ao3

They stumble into the nearest safe house they can find. The team is exhausted, bloodied (but not bruised), and everyone is still reeling from the revelation that Andy is mortal now. Nicky, ever the mother hen, immediately takes hold of Andy’s arm as they enter the kitchen, sits her ass down on a chair and warns her not to get up while he gets some bandages and whatnot. Andy sighs exasperatedly, but Joe sees her smile. Her bond with Nicky is something special, Joe realizes again. Joe, knowing that his and Nicky’s usual ritual will have to wait, takes over Nicky’s task of finding some food. Booker retreats into a bedroom, knowing he will probably face a lot of anger when he comes back out. Joe is seething, boiling, hurt like hell over the betrayal of the man he used to call his brother and the fact that Joe never knew Booker was hurting so much…but he hasn’t got the energy to focus on that mess of feelings now. As he gathers some supplies and goes to warm up several cans of soup, the only thing that runs through his mind over and over and over again is that horrible image of his Nicky, staring blankly at the ceiling, a too large hole in the back of his head.

God, but Joe had wondered for a second if this had been it. With the reveal of Andy’s mortality still fresh on his mind, Joe had feared that Nicky had lost his mortality as well. Had feared he would have to brave this world alone. The relief that had swept through him when Nicky woke up gasping, the hole in his throat not even fully closed as he took a renewed breath, had been near overwhelming to Joe. Watching his Nicky die was always a challenge, filled him with a pain and grief that never truly seemed to lessen, but this time had been more intense than it had been in a long while. Andy’s mortality had brought their own long, but not immortal, lives to the forefront.

Nile comes to join him, helps him recover some plates, even as she continues to flex her fingers, obviously still remembering how her bones had been shattered and reset after that terrible plunge she took. She took that dive for all of them, Joe realizes, and he feels a sudden rush of affection for the new, young immortal. “Are you okay, Joe?” Nile asks, standing next to him and startling him out of his racing thoughts. He nearly spills the soup he’s stirring, but Nile rescues the pan with her lightning quick reflexes.

“I’m fine, Nile,” he says with a smile, as he pours the soup into a large bowl.

“You know, you guys sometimes seem to speak in a whole different language with your vague-ass references, but I can tell when someone is off. You’re not a subtle man, Joe.”

From the kitchen table, Nicky snorts and Joe shoots him a look. “You, shut up,” he says warmly, and Nicky winks at him, before continuing the task of cleaning and dressing Andy’s wounds. “I was just thinking how lucky we are to have you part of the family,” he continues to Nile, whose eyes widen as she breaks into a smile. “You jumped from a penthouse into a car to save Andy, to save all of us, without even thinking.” Joe let out an impressed whistle. “Not many of us who would do that in their first week of figuring out they’re immortal.”

“You and Nicky killed each other at least a dozen times in your first week, as I recall,” Andy says dryly, and Joe rolls his eyes hard. Andy winces when Nicky wraps a tight bandage around her middle. “Sonuvabitch!” she mutters, before looking back up at Nile with a smile. “But Joe’s right, Nile. That was a badass thing to do, and I owe you my life.”

Nile shrugs, as if it had been nothing, even though it clearly had been something. “That’s what we do, right?” She looks around at all of them in turn, Nicky, Joe, and Andy last. “Protect each other?”

Joe smiles and wraps one arm around her shoulders to hug her. It should feel weird, but it doesn’t, and Nile shoots him a warm smile. “That’s right. Dinner’s ready, by the way.”

They all shoot looks at Booker’s bedroom door, but nobody has the urge to bring him out. In the end, it’s Nile who brings him a bowl of soup, taking pity on the Frenchman at last.

Joe knows they’ll have to deal with Booker eventually, but right now, he has different priorities. After making sure Nicky has finished his soup, he reaches over to take his hand. They look at each other, and Joe can see the same haunted look in Nicky’s eyes that is probably quite visible in his own as well. They nod, then get up and wish the others good night. Clutching each other’s hands tightly, they make their way to their own bedroom, with its en suite bathroom, and before they close the door, they hear Nile ask, “Is that how they usually communicate?”

They hear Andy’s amused chuckle, “Yes. It’s annoying. You get used to their tooth-aching cuteness.”

Nicky lets out a small laugh before pulling the door closed and leaning against it, watching Joe watching him. Joe looks at him, really looks, because even after nearly a thousand years, he still cannot get enough of his Nicky’s face. Those kind, green eyes shining brightly even as exhaustion blooms, that soft mouth that is simply perfect for kissing at any point (even in an armoured van. Joe knows where his priorities lie), and that god damn fucking freckle on his chin. The love of his life remains as perfect as he was the day they met. Nicky seems to be drinking him in just as intensely.

“Come on, my heart,” Joe says gently, pulling Nicky along as the other man stumbles slightly from exhaustion. But they are covered in blood, their own and others’, and it is their ritual to wash a tough mission off before going to sleep. Like washing away all the bad memories.

In the bathroom, he turns on the shower, then gently takes Nicky by his hands and pulls him closer. Their lips meet in a soft kiss, without any heat, but with a tenderness that could melt both their hearts and Joe slowly starts to undo Nicky’s pants, then his own. They break the kiss, but keep their foreheads connected, breathing in the same air. They pull of their shirts, their shoes, their socks, and their pants, throwing it all in a pile to be thrown away tomorrow. Neither of them ever needs to see or wear those clothes again.

Meanwhile, the water has turned hot, and Joe puts Nicky under it first, aching to get the blood out of his hair, off the back of his head, washing away the terrible memory of a gruesome death. Nicky smiles knowingly, indulges Joe in his need to do this, but pulls him closer, nonetheless. Joe knows Nicky needs this as much as he does. They don’t talk, but they don’t have to. Just basking in each other’s presence, helping each other clean up, is enough after what they’d been through. Nicky allows Joe to shampoo his hair thoroughly, and Joe pays special attention to the back of his head, ignoring the nausea that threatens to come up every time he feels some brain matter come away. When he is sure that every part of his love’s hair has been cleansed completely, he wraps his arms around Nicky from behind and presses a kiss to the back of his head. Nicky interlaces his fingers with Joe’s, and they stand together under the shower for a while, holding each other, revelling in the fact that they are still alive, together.

Then it’s Nicky’s turn, and Joe stands underneath the shower as Nicky spends a good long while shampooing his hair and his beard, then takes a sponge and washes all the evidence of Dr. Kozak’s cruelty off Joe’s body. Joe can feel her touch beginning to fade under the gentle and loving touches of his Nicky. When they’re done, they stand under the spray some more, holding each other, running their hands over the other’s body, as if to make sure they’re really here, still together.

“Bed?” Joe murmurs at last, when they’ve been standing under the spray, doing nothing more than holding each other and swaying to a rhythm only they can hear, for at least ten minutes.

“Please,” Nicky says, and Joe turns the water off. And because they’re just like that, they dry each other off, taking a break once for a kiss that turns a little more heated than either of them intended, but they ignore that heat. There’s time enough for that later. Right now their needs are for something else.

They dress in pyjamas, which smell a little musty after having gone unused for at least 5 years, and drop onto their bed, utterly exhausted. For a long while, they lie face to face, holding hands and exchanging kisses and soft words, whispered between them. “I thought for a second I’d – ” Joe says, before trailing off with a hard swallow.

Nicky kisses the frown on his forehead. “I’m here, Yusuf,” he says gently, running his fingers through Joe’s hair. “But yeah, getting shot in the mouth is definitely not one of my favourite ways to go.”

Joe has to chuckle, despite himself, despite the gruesome image still swimming in front of his eyes. “You have favourite ways?”

“I have a top ten list,” Nicky deadpans and Joe lets out another laugh, because of course Nicky has a top ten list. Even after a millennium the man can still surprise him sometimes. “I do!”

“What’s number one, then?”

“The last time you killed me,” Nicky says with a grin, and then he waits for Joe to catch up.

Joe lets out a surprised laugh. “You know, if you want to go back to Malta so badly, please just take me there, instead of tempting me with the memories.”

Nicky kisses Joe softly and for a while they don’t speak anymore. Then Nicky leans his forehead against Joe’s. “I was glad you weren’t awake for most of the testing that woman did on me.”

“I’m not,” Joe says, grinding his teeth. “I would’ve broken free and murdered her myself.”

“Exactly,” Nicky says, squeezing Joe’s fingers. “It would’ve just resulted in more pain for the both of us. Listening to her do her ridiculous tests on you…it nearly killed me.” Nicky swallows thickly, tears threatening in the back of his throat.

Joe’s anger disappears at once, choosing instead to comfort his Nicky. “I am here, Nicolò. We are alive.”

Nicky nods, and he leans in to kiss Joe. They kiss until they’re satisfied that the other is alive, safe, and calmed down. Joe feels the calm settle over him like a warm blanket, and the exhaustion creeps into his bones. Nicky looks like he’s about to plummet into sleep as well. After a last, gentle kiss, Nicky turns around to face the door, as he always does, and Joe wraps his arms around him from behind, as he always does. They lock their fingers together, as they always do, and Joe presses a kiss to the back of Nicky’s neck.

“Te amo, my heart,” Joe whispers, hugging Nicky close to him, and pressing his nose against Nicky’s warm skin. This was, without a doubt, his favourite way to exist. Holding his Nicky close to his heart, breathing in his scent, feeling him fall asleep.

“uHibbuka, my life,” Nicky murmurs back, and as always, those little phrases in Arabic Nicky says, just for them, send a thrill through Joe’s body. Tomorrow, he thinks, tomorrow he might ravish his Nicky thoroughly. But now, all Joe wants, all he needs, is this. Them, together.

Just like it’s supposed to be.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 19

Elena pats me on the back again and I raise a shaky hand to my mouth, wipe my lips on the back of my wrist. The suit tastes rubbery and horrible and the cloying plastic aftertaste of it mixes with the bile on my tongue in a truly awful way.

She looks a little green herself but she’s holding it together better than I am, at least. None of the others on the team, even Euler, lost their lunch.

“You okay?” she asks softly, but I don’t trust myself to speak, not yet. I shake my head narrowly, trying to avoid any sort of quick motions, trusting the roiling feeling in my gut. I don’t think there’s anything left for me to yak up, really, but just the quick convulsive retching motion is enough for me to want to die.

Thank goodness Elena had seen what was going to happen and hit the quick-release catch on my helmet first and shoved me outside. I shuddered there on my knees puking my guts up, the indelible image of the mangled body there in the station burned in the backs of my eyelids, the terrified face, the marks as though something had taken a great ice-cream scoop to the man’s neck and chest, huge welts and suck-marks like he’d been mauled like an octopus. And then, of course…

“I don’t understand it,” I hear Crookshank saying from inside the station. The rest of the team is huddled around the body still, with only myself, Elena, and Klaus still outside. Elena’s laid her rifle down on the floor but Klaus still has his in his hands, low around his hips but ready to bring up and fire at a moment’s notice. I can see his eyes darting around the titanic space we’re in, not panicked but watchful. “I don’t understand it,” Crookshank repeats. “Anything that could have torn a man fucking clean in half would have been too damn big to get in here.”

More voices, Peter says something and the Sergeant mutters a curse, same disgusted tone of voice strained even harsher. “I have to tell Veret something,” I hear him growl.

I blow a breath out and stagger to my feet. Elena takes me under the arm and helps me up and I cling onto her gratefully. I feel a little better now, but I don’t know how I’ll handle seeing that body again. I’d never thought of myself as having a particularly weak stomach, but I guess I’d never seen anything that gruesome up close. Even Rey’s death, just a couple of days ago, was relatively clean from my perspective. He’d been a fair distance away from me and the bullet had entered the back of his head; I’m sure the front would have been ghastly but he fell on his face, and I never saw anything other than that small red pinprick welling with blood before he fell and that was that.

“Was that your first time seeing a dead body?” Elena asks me softly, and I shake my head.

“No,” I tell her. My voice is shaky and I cough, feel the coating of bile at the back of my throat shift, and then I swallow hard. The taste of it surfaces again and I make a face. “No,” I repeat, a little more clearly. “The other day when Rey – well, you’d know him as the guy who tried to rush the Pit –“

“Wait,” Elena says, frowning. “You were there? I heard that they picked up a couple of people who’d gotten in somehow and one of them got shot, but I didn’t know you –“

“Yeah,” I say. I realize belatedly that I’d sort of skimmed over this part when I’d told Elena how I’d arrived at the Pit. “Peter got me in and –“

“What?”

I look at her and frown. “What?”

“Peter got you in?”

“Uh, yeah, he – wait, you didn’t know he was doing that?”

Elena is staring at the station. There’s something smoldering at the depth of her gaze and I realize with an immediate stab of trepidation that I may have just fucked up. Inside I can hear Peter’s voice. “- I’m telling you, a shamble wouldn’t have been able to do this –“ he says, all I can hear before Crookshank’s rough baritone drowns him out.

“Are you telling me,” Elena says, “that Peter’s the one that has been letting all those people in all these years?”

“I thought you knew,” I say quietly. I can feel the anger pouring off of her and it makes me nervous, like I’m eyeing a very large dog that’s currently in the process of sizing me up. “I thought it was common knowledge, I thought everybody knew –“

“Roan,” Elena says, her voice tight. “I’ve had to kill somebody because of that bastard.”

“What?”

Elena pinches the bridge of her nose. “A couple of years ago,” she says, “someone got in with a bomb. And just like the other night, they were running at the Pit, they were going to chuck the bomb down the orifice. I was on patrol that night, I shot him. I shouldn’t have even been on patrol but someone was fucking sick and they didn’t have anyone else. The entire time I was with the Coast Guard I hadn’t even fired a gun except at the range, I was a damn cave diver. You’re telling me Peter’s the person who’s been letting them in?”

“I thought you knew,” I repeat helplessly. “I thought everybody knew, I didn’t know it was –“

“Does Veret know about this?”

She looks over at me then and goddam it, I flinch. “Yes,” I tell her, my lips barely moving. Elena spits.

“That fucking bitch,” she growls. “Did she know the whole time?”

“Elena, please don’t –“

“Did she fucking know?”

Klaus looks over, a frown on his normally tranquil brow. “Elena,” he starts, but she shoots him a murderous glance and he holds his hands up and takes a few steps further away, shooting me a sympathetic glance as he does.

“Yes,” I tell her, feeling as though I’m stabbing Makado in the back.

“That cunt,” Elena says, very quietly. She gets to her feet then, with purpose, and starts for the station, but I reach out and take her by the wrist. She tries to jerk her hand free of me but I hold on tight. “Let go of me, Roan,” she says.

“Elena, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” she tells me. “This isn’t your fault. This is Peter and Veret, they’re the ones who’ve been letting people in so they can fucking die down here, so they can profit off of fucking thrill-seekers. I am going to blow the lid off this so hard that –“

“Wait,” I say, realizing that she must not know. She must not know about the disease, the fucking – psychic illness or whatever the hell it is. And then I realize that if I try to explain, I’m going to sound like a damn lunatic.

Makado had said it was fairly top-secret. That it’d get me put on a list. So it must be something the regular rangers didn’t know about, except for Peter of course.

Elena’s looking at me expectantly and I don’t know what I’m going to tell her.

“Please don’t,” I go with eventually, knowing how lame it is. Elena’s eyes soften fractionally.

“Roan,” she says, using the same tone one might to explain something difficult to a child, “I know he’s your friend, shit, half this team idolizes him in one way or another, but what he did was not okay. And he deserves –“

“There’s something you don’t know,” I blurt. “Something I can’t tell you, something secret. It wasn’t about the money, he had another reason, he and Makado both had a good reason, but I can’t tell you –“

I can see anger flash across her face for just a moment and knowing that it’s directed at me feels like something is torn inside of me, like some very important piece of tissue just behind my ribs has broken open and is leaking everywhere. “Roan –“ she starts, and then her eyes flicker across my face and I see her bite her lip. “Don’t cry,” she tells me softly, and then I feel the little trickle of moisture making its way down my cheek, and I turn away with a mumbled curse, wiping at my face.

“Goddam it,” I growl, and Elena takes my hand hesitantly, and though my initial instinct is to whip it out of her grasp, I’m able to stop myself.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Hey, hey, stop. It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

“Do you trust me?” I ask her.

“Yeah, of course.” Zero hesitation, as if it shouldn’t even be called into doubt. I smile a little.

Klaus has taken a few steps further away and is minding his own business so obviously he might as well be screaming it. The poor guy is clearly uncomfortable and something about the way it’s so telegraphed is immediately endearing to me. “Okay,” I whisper. I feel Elena lean in behind me. “Then trust me on this. Please.”

She blows out a big breath; I can feel it on the back of my neck and immediately a stream of goosebumps race down both my arms. I take a step backwards, a very small one, and feel her against me. I want her to hold me but she doesn’t.

Elena holds herself very still, and then gradually lets my hand go. I turn and face her. “Please,” I tell her. I put my arms up around her neck and pull her closer to me, touch our foreheads together. She doesn’t want to but she smiles, avoids my eyes. She bites it back down after a moment but I still saw it. “I want to tell you but –“

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it might put you in danger.”

“Why the hell do you know, then?”

“Because Peter and Makado told me.”

Elena snorts. “So they gave you an excuse and you believed them?”

“It wasn’t an excuse,” I say sharply, then soften my tone when Klaus looks around at us. “It wasn’t an excuse. It’s a secret. Nobody’s supposed to know. The kind of thing that gets you on a list, that gets you disappeared if you try to tell someone.”

“Bullshit.”

“Thought you said you trusted me.”

“Wow, ouch.” Elena scrunches up her nose and nuzzles against mine. “I do trust you,” she says. “I trust that you believe what you’re saying. Whether it’s true or not is a different story.”

“I’m not sure that’s the same thing as trusting me.”

“Look,” I tell her, “just don’t do anything – don’t do anything stupid. Not yet. When this is all over we can –“

She barks a laugh, pulls away from me grinning. “Alright, I’ll wait to do stupid things until after the mission.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I just thought it was funny the way you said it,” she tells me. Somehow her hand has found mine again and I can feel myself starting to relax. Then her face grows darker. “Roan, do you know how many bodies I’ve had to retrieve from gastric pits? I’m the only diver on the team, there’s two of us in the entire company. Anytime they find somebody else, it’s either me or him who has to suit up and dive in and grab the remains. How many? Guess.”

“I don’t want to –“

“Guess,” she tells me, more insistent now.

“Since you started?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Ten? Twenty?”

“About a hundred.”

“What?”

“Like one-fifty or one-seventy-five total, cause the other guy got hired a year after me, so for the first year I handled all of them, 24/7. Do you have any idea what it’s like, diving into an acid pool, knowing that if there is a single spot of wear on your suit that you didn’t catch, a single tear somewhere that you didn’t see, you could end up either dead or crippled?”

“Elena, I –“

“Do you have any idea,” she says, her overcast eyes shining, “what it’s like to dive down there and find a puddle of jelly with a dissolving ribcage and skull sticking out of it? What it’s like to see half a face staring at you, with a gastric bristleworm peeking out of the eyesocket and trying to bite you? And you have to gather it all up and bring it back up with you, even if your hands sink into it and it feels like fucking jello?”

“No, I don’t,” I murmur. My stomach’s done an uncomfortable lurch in step with the images she’s putting in my head and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

“I have nightmares sometimes,” she says. “Well, not sometimes, more like most of the time. About those dives, about the things I found down there, about the acid getting into my suit and burning me alive, about drowning in it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

She offers me a little snort, fleeting mirth tempered with something approaching despair. The way she looks at me, I realize, this must have been eating her for – for years. At least. “Deserve,” she says, spitting the word like it’s a curse. “I won’t rock the boat – for now. But there’s going to be a reckoning when we’re done here, and if Veret and Peter can’t give me a very good reason why they let this happen, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

She looks at me menacingly, as if daring me to argue with her, and I bundle up the knot of trepidation lurking in my throat and toss it aside. “Okay,” I tell her. “I’m okay with that.”

“You are?”

I shoot her a skeptical look. “Yeah, duh. This whole trip, this whole time I’ve been down here, you’ve been the only –“

“Merriweather!” the Sergeant roars from within the station. “If you’re quite done puking your guts up out there, I need you inside to take some pictures!”

I pull a face at Elena and turn to go, but she grabs my wrist. “Wait,” she says. “The only what?”

“MERRIWEATHER!”

I roll my eyes. “Tell you later?”

“You better,” she growls, but it’s with an unwilling smile, and then I turn and blow my breath out and walk back into the station, trying not to focus on the way my boots stick in the blood, still wet and glutinous on the floor.

 * * *

 “No,” Peter says again, patiently, “it could not have been a copepod.”

“Goddam it,” Crookshank says, his face growing redder, “what else has the strength to do this?”

“A copepod can’t fit inside the station. Even a small one wouldn’t be able to, it would not be able to get through the door.”

“So it tore him apart outside.”

“And what, threw the body in here?”

I’m still feeling a little queasy but even I chuckle at that, just a little.

“I don’t care what the hell did it,” the Sergeant says, “so stop fucking arguing about it. I just got off the phone with Veret and checked with her, there should have been four other people down here other than this guy. Hughes, you and Sato did a sweep of the entire organ, you didn’t find any trace of them?”

“Nothing at all,” Ellis says. His eyes are wide still. “Like they disappeared.”

“Sato,” the Sergeant says, turning to Fumi. “How many arterioles branch out from Oyster’s Shame?”

“All of them, or just ones a person could reasonably fit through?” he asks. He’s already started tapping at his wristpad and I can see a map of our surroundings, wireframed and ghostly, hovering and rotating there.

“Just the ones a person could get into.”

He taps for a little longer. “There’s eighteen.”

“Alright,” the Sergeant says, looking around at us. His eyes are dark, menacing, purposeful. They settle, eventually, on Euler. “Mister Euler, get Joker set up in the center of the organ. Same defensive characteristics as we went over last night.”

Euler nods and hustles outside, and then we hear the thunderous squelching footsteps as he gets Joker set up. I look around for a panicked moment and then remember I’d left my helmet on the table in the other room – I’ll just grab it before I leave. The radio tag in it is what keeps Joker from thinking I don’t belong.

“Everybody, pair up,” the Sergeant says. “We’ve got eighteen vents to search and not much time to do it in. I want constant radio contact, and if anyone finds anything, get on the horn immediately. Understand?”

The team nods and murmurs assent, and favorite partners join up, slide on helmets, check magazines. I crouch down on my haunches and continue photographing the bent steel on the interior of the doorframe. It looks as though a titan hand had reached in and caught itself there, crunching the metal to oblivion. Then I realize the Sergeant is still standing there, staring at me.

“Uh.”

“Miss Merriweather, ‘everyone’ includes you.”

Behind him, Elena gives me a little wave and a grin. “You want me to go out there?” I ask. “And, you know, search for –“

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m a photographer.”

“You’re a body,” he corrects me. “Do what you’re told. Novak, with me.”

Elena frowns, glancing at me. “But Roan – “

“You girls can have your tea party later. I need you to check a gastric bulb that’s along vent 45-b out of here. Merriweather, you’re with Hughes.”

Ellis and Fumi share a glance, then a shrug, and the groupings rearrange, and with a sigh I rise to my feet, my knee letting out a loud crack that nearly makes me jump. Ellis grins at me and I grin back and for a moment, just a moment, I’m able to forget about the body, or what remains of one, lurking there in the other room.

 * * *

 For the dozenth time since we made our cautious way into our assigned ventricle, Ellis whips around, his slug rifle held in far too shaky hands for my taste. “Did you hear that?” he asks again, and I give a perfunctory and weary glance behind us.

“Nope.”

“You didn’t?” he asks. “I could have sworn…”

“Ellis,” I say gently. “Do you think you might be, I don’t know, a little freaked out right now?”

“Freaked out? Me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not freaked out,” he says. “I’m just, you know.”

“Staying alert?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Exactly.”

There’s an ominous gurgle from ahead and I stop. “Okay,” I say, “this time I heard that one.”

“I did too,” Ellis says, glancing over at me. “But I think that was just the Pit.”

“Just the walls or something?”

“Yeah. You know, contracting.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, and relax a little. “You’d know better than I would,” I say, more for my benefit than his, and he nods.

“I was going to mention,” he says, peeking both his head and his gun around the corner upcoming. “I thought it was really brave of you to, you know, even volunteer to come down here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. Not a lot of people would do that, much less people, you know, without any real training.”

I laugh. “Are you calling me brave or foolish?”

“The two overlap, don’t they?”

“To a certain degree. Are we not going that way?” I ask as Ellis walks back past me the way we came, gesturing for me to follow. He shakes his head.

“No, the passage narrows, we wouldn’t be able to get through. There wasn’t anything down there anyway.”

So we head back. Other than the normal assorted creepy-crawlies all over the place there hasn’t been any sign of the ephemeral monster, big and strong enough to tear a person in half at the waist, ragged splintered spinal cord leaking –

Stop.

We haven’t found any of the other four people who worked at the Deep Listening Station, and judging by the lack of transmissions on the radio, none of the other pairs have either. I’d been a little apprehensive at first, watching Elena and the Sergeant vanish down a cavernous fleshy hole in the pockmarked wall of the chamber, while Ellis and I edged around another one of the vast pearl-like waxy secretions slumped cratering in the spongy floor, but after about half an hour without any radio calls other than routine check-ins, I’d began to relax. Ellis hadn’t, but I’d began to realize that he was just naturally a high-strung, twitchy little bastard, so maybe that’s understandable.

We’ve got two more vents to check, and in all likelihood they’ll be as empty as this one. It seems as though whatever did the deed in there, in the station, just crept in, killed the poor guy in there, and then ran off with his legs. It didn’t seem, in Slate’s expert opinion, quite messy enough in there for it, whatever it was, to have actually eaten the lower body while it was inside the station.

But then, I’d thought to myself, why would it have ran? Most animals I know of prefer to scarf everything down immediately if they’re able to. Harder to get your food stolen if it’s inside your stomach. Maybe that rule doesn’t apply inside the Pit, but it seems logical. Then, another thing – yeah, most animals will run off with food that’s too big or too much to eat right away, but if that was the case, why leave the upper body? Those marks on it certainly seemed like evidence of some kind of consumption, I guess, although not a method I was familiar with, but there was still plenty left to eat on it. I try to keep my mind from wandering onto the terrible expression on what was left of the man’s face but I’m not successful, and I grimace inside my helmet.

It’s pointless. I don’t know any of these creatures, I don’t know what sort of twisted behaviorology evolution has forced on them. Maybe it made perfect sense to run off with the legs without eating them.

But what the hell happened to the other four?

That’s the question eating at me, and I can’t see any way around it, I can’t see any meaningful explanation. They’d left their suits behind so they’d left in a hurry, they didn’t leave any communication, no logs or notes or anything. Ellis had looked through the computer system there and hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. It was like they just…decided to leave. Went for a walk and hadn’t gone back.

I think back through a dozen foggily-remembered spooky stories of similar disappearances, picked up through sort of cultural osmosis, absorbed from clickbait article titles and five-second daytime TV snippets, but I can’t think of anything useful. And then, because there really is nothing else to do, I look over at Ellis. “Alright,” I say. “Tell me what you think happened in there.”

“In the listening station?”

“Yeah.”

He blows a breath out, lets the words fade. All I can hear is squelching footprints and vague writhing from the flesh around us. “I think,” he says finally, “that whatever it was, I think it’s smart.”

“Yeah?”

“Cause, think about it,” he says. “It gets in there, it’s big and tough and strong enough to rip that dude clean in half, you know? What makes it want to leave after that?”

I shrug. “Maybe it was chasing the other four.”

“Nah, nah, nah, see, I bet it didn’t give a fuck about the other four. It knew it was in a place where humans were and even if it managed to kill one, shit, even if it managed to kill all five of them, it knew we were going to get mad and come looking for it.”

“So you think it ran away?”

“I think that it’s hiding somewhere, watching us, waiting for a good moment. You know?”

“Christ,” I mutter, “don’t say things like that.”

“I’m just saying, we have to be realistic.”

“What do you think it was?”

Ellis shrugs. “Copepod, that’s what I figure. I don’t know what else would have been strong enough to tear someone in half like that.”

“Peter thinks a copepod wouldn’t have fit inside the station,” I point out, remembering what I’d heard earlier while I was busy throwing up. Ellis shrugs.

“Who knows, man. All I know is, there’s some bullshit going on here and I don’t want to be anywhere near this place when whatever did it decides to come poking around again.”

We pause back in the main chamber so I can pop another SD card into the camera. I’ve manage to save it from the worst of the wear I was anticipating we’d run into but it’s still slick with gore from hours spent in the Pit. I’ve managed to keep the lenses clean, for the most part, and as far as I can tell the footage I’m getting is decent, but there’s going to be a lot of it.

I’ve been trying not to think of the next steps we have to take. If we’ll even keep going, after what’s happened here, after what we’ve found. Maybe Makado will want to pull us out, send more people down.

Or maybe, I reckon with a little sinking grind at the bottom of my stomach, maybe this is just normal here in the Pit. Maybe it’s normal to have one guy dead and four missing, maybe that’s just – Christ, what day is it? Down here it’s so dark that my mind just registers it as a constant endless night. I don’t even know what time it is, how light it ought to be on the surface. If I look at the time on my camera all it says is 6:54 PM, but I know I never set it properly, I didn’t bother to, so there’s no way that’s accurate. I’d ask Ellis but he’s gone back to jumping at shadows again. He keeps asking me if I saw that shadow down at the end of the vent we’re searching next, and I keep telling him that I was busy fumbling with my camera, I didn’t see anything.

I think he just misses Fumi. The past couple days the two of them have been inseparable, and I assume from how they’ve been acting that that’s the normal state of affairs for missions like these.

Ellis shakes his head finally. “I don’t know, man. I’ve been down here for too long, my eyes are playing tricks on me. You know?”

I can’t help but smile at him. “Yeah, I know,” I agree, slapping my camera closed and booting it up again. We stand there a little longer while it does and then finally I angle it upwards at him. “Smile,” I tell him, and he does, throws up a peace sign as well. “Beautiful.”

“At least you got my good side,” he grins, and I can’t help it, I laugh, even though it’s a dumb joke. Then we let the sound trail off and we make our way into the vent, the ribbed, dripping ceiling closing over us like the roof of a mouth.

We don’t have to wait long before it happens. Screaming, muffled as though it were passing through multiple layers of flesh, and then gunfire, and even though it too is muffled it still makes me and Ellis flinch.

“Sounds like it’s right fuckin’ next to us,” Ellis says, working the action on his rifle. The radio has ignited with voices, calling for status and such, but among them I can’t hear Crookshank’s deep, surly growl. I frown.

“Wait, it’s Crookshank. Crookshank and – who?” I ask. Ellis thinks for a moment, then nods.

“Slate,” he says. “They got paired up.”

We rush our way back to the main chamber, then listen. The screaming and gunshots have died down by now and left in its wake an ominous silence. I don’t see anybody else, although the radio is still squawking down at my belt. Everyone else must still be deep inside their vents, it was just chance that we were at the mouth of ours.

A gunshot sounds again and this time I have a fix on it – I saw the blare of a muzzle-flash reflecting crazily off the sweat-slick walls of a vent on the other end of the chamber. I point to it and look back at Ellis, the words already forming in my mouth, but I can see from his face they aren’t necessary, he saw it too.

Whatever trepidation and nerves he might have felt before are gone now, I can see. His mouth is a thin-set line and I can see determination in his eyes, and without anything more than a nod we both set off sprinting towards the vent. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest but in a good way, in a reckoning sort of way, like I’ve grabbed reins I never knew were hanging just in front of my face.

We don’t even make it to the mouth of the vent, though, before Crookshank blazes out of it as though the devil were chasing him, bowling me over and careening into Ellis. The man’s face is red as a beetroot and his eyes are wide and terrified. Ellis had almost shot him before our headlamps had caught his face and suit and we’d realized that he wasn’t a monster, some prehistoric annelid come back for seconds. Ellis struggles with the larger man’s weight for a moment but finally gets him back on his feet. “John,” Ellis says, “what the fuck –“

“Don’t even fucking go down there!” Crookshank yells. He staggers a little and then breaks into a run again, heading for the station. He knocked the breath out of me and that combined with a heavy landing right on my ass left me dazed for a moment, but I manage to clamber to my feet with a minimum of cursing.

“Where the fuck is Slate?” I shriek after him, trying to keep my voice even, but Crookshank ignores me.

“Goddam it,” Ellis grunts, and then takes off after Crookshank, and then I’m alone.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, dusting myself off – or perhaps ‘wiping’ is a better word in this environment. I thought I heard some sort of crunching noise from the camera when I fell but I don’t think I landed on it, and I spend a moment checking to see if anything is broken – I can’t find anything obviously wrong with it so unless it starts corrupting recordings, I’m fine.

Then I remember that I’ve been huddled here like an idiot tapping at my camera with my back to the vent Crookshank came bursting out of, and I whip around, eyes like dinner plates, half-expecting something horrible and nasty to be right behind me, but of course there’s nothing. I glance back at the station and see some of the other members of the team rushing for it – and there’s Elena too, in her wetsuit, padding along with the Sergeant right behind her.

When I turn my attention back to the vent I think I see something move, down there in the dark, but I can’t make it out. I reach up and angle my headlamp a little downwards but I can’t see anything other than pink flesh, scored by veins and tumors and callouses. “Slate?” I call out after a moment’s hesitation, my voice horribly shaky. I let my lip curl at myself and take a step or two inwards, and then it moves again, further down in the dark, where my light peters out.

I’ve got my camera slung low at my waist but I bring it up to my eye, then reach up further and turn my headlamp off. The night-vision mode isn’t very good but it might actually reach a little further than the headlamp does…

“Where’s Roan?” I can hear Elena asking, back in Oyster’s Shame. She sounds a little panicked. “Ellis, where the hell is –“

I open my mouth to call out that I’m right here, but before I can cold terror seizes my lungs and I can’t make them work, I can’t make my mouth form the sentence. On the camera screen, once the wash of the night-vision had finally clicked over and I could make out something down there at the end of the vent, before it curved over to the right. I made out a mass of writhing, squirming ropes or tentacles, but that was all, it was gone far too quickly for it to really fix in my mind. But in one great ropy appendage I thought it held -

And then Elena’s found me and she’s practically hauling me out of the vent by the collar of my suit. I see a flash of her eyes, wide and worried, staring into mine, before she spins me around and shoves me towards the station with enough force that I stagger. “Go inside,” she tells me, voice low and urgent, in a tone that’ll brook no argument. When I look back I see four of them, her and the Sergeant and Fumi and Peter, all with their guns at the ready, vanishing into the vent, the darkness swallowing them up even as the pale, faltering light of their headlamps stab at it.

“Don’t go down there,” I start to say, “there’s a … a thing,” but Elena has already gone and vanished, and with nothing left to do I turn around and walk back to the station.

It doesn’t take them long to get back, and when I see that they’re all still there, all still intact, my heart does a funny little flip in my chest, doubly so when I see Elena. The rest of us have moved into the station’s kitchen and grabbed seats at the big round table there, and I had the presence of mind to take two, resting my legs on one of them so Elena’d have a spot next to me. She practically throws herself down into it, and when I look at her I can see the tiredness and worry practically radiating off of her like cartoon stink lines. She glances over at me and offers a perfunctory smile but I know her heart isn’t in it.

I start to ask her whether they found anything, but the Sergeant comes in and tosses a helmet onto the table. It must be Slate’s, I assume; everybody else has theirs. The faceplate is shattered and there’s a vividly bright daub of blood down the front of it.

“We found this,” the Sergeant says, staring at Crookshank, “at the end of the tunnel. No Slate, no nothing. Just this, and a trail of blood leading into a compress arteriole that Slate would never have been able to fit into intact.”

For the past fifteen minutes Crookshank has done nothing but sit there at the table with his head in his hands. Now he raises his head and looks up at the Sergeant. I’ve never seen his face this pale. “It was the Leechman,” he says. “I saw it.”

Instant uproar. A dozen mouths shouting disagreement, disbelief, profanity. Elena is on her feet next to me, staring at Crookshank. “Bullshit,” I think I hear her say. “You fat fucking –“

I can hear Peter saying loudly from a few seats down that he’s seen one, that he knows he’s seen one, and I can hear Fumi saying equally loudly that the Leechman is just a myth, man, grow up, this is bullshit. Amid the noise I meet the Sergeant’s eyes; I haven’t seen or heard him say a single word since Crookshank spoke, but I can tell from his face that a Leechman, whatever the hell that is, is capital-letter Bad News.

I think of something, something I should have thought of immediately. I reach down, plonk my camera on the table in front of me. “I got it on video,” I say, looking around. Nobody hears, not even Elena next to me.

The Sergeant is looking at the camera, then he looks back at me. He frowns. I lick my lips, repeat myself a little louder. “I got it on video,” I say, then I close my eyes and stand up and yell it. I have to yell three times before everyone quiets down and looks at me. “I got it on video,” I say. “Here, look.”

And then I tab through the camera’s menu, find the last video I took, and then set it to play, as everyone crowds around me, craning their necks to get a good look at the unfortunately tiny screen, I feel for just a moment like I might actually be useful for something down here.

I look up again, look at all the faces peering at the camera, held tight to my chest, and when again I lock gazes with the Sergeant I try not to burst into flames from the sheer and incongruous spark of joy-at-belonging that I feel when he gives me a short, curt nod.

Elena’s the first to break the silence that settled in after the video ended. She flops into her seat, looks around at all of us, ends the slow sweep of the circle with her eyes on me. “Well,” she says. “Looks like we’re all fuckin’ dead.”

And I can feel a sudden consuming coldness someplace in my chest snuff out that little fuzzy spark of bucolic, ya done did good kid paternal acceptance when I realize that she’s completely serious.

Continue with Part 20

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[izartn]

MDZS JGY fic promt

I’m thinking about Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao and I think I would love to read a fic of him snapping in the opposite direction of his desperate grab for power and respect from his shit father. We know, thanks to JGS gruesome murder that at some point, after already being a shitty human doing murdery things, JGY snapped hard and said: “if i’m gonna do the shitty things of running this sect i’ll do them for myself and fuck you to death”. Quite literally. 

So I’d like to imagine a world where he, like, not necessary becomes a much better person; I dunno about the JZX and WWX kill plot, or about NMJ. I think he’s very set in his auto-preservating self-beneficing ways, and if you don’t really work well with that part of his chara then he’s not JGY anymore. 

But instead of being, I’ll become the highest in the cultivation world, so i will be finally respected and listened to (uhm, didnt’ work especially well did it? they never let him forget his mother profession when it was his father who was the absolute worst) he decides that while cultivation is still something to aspire to -can’t forget about his mother dying dream, also longer life and health benefits + being a hero, doing the decent thing- he realises the cultivation sect system as it is horrible. 

He was in the middle of the war, he saw it from both sides. He then went to low to high but still a servant. And it’s always blood what counts. He sees what happens to his other bastard brothers, to WWX when he decides enough is enough, and how he himself is still treated by his Sect despite his intelligence and abilities. And instead of trying to take refuge in the system, he is a bit more self-aware or inquiring; maybe he is more idealistic in some ways? But still oh so bitter, and decides to destroy the system from within.

You know what? Do it so he still rises to Leader of the Jin Sect (without prostitutes murdering and necrophilia; he is now more on the side of the common, so maybe he gets the help of Sisi or someone he knows to aid him poison his father and after he gets them a nice reward and packs them to a new life in Japan or something. Or he simply uses another subtle method without intermediaries or with unaware ones, he is certainly able of doing that when he isnt being an ironic murderer shit.) because it’ll serve him, and to be the leader responsible of making sure the so estimated Jin blood is disposesed will make him smug pleased. To slowly gain power and bit by bit erase the division between the noble clans and people who learn simply bcs of talent, scouting youngsters witht the excuse of replenishing the clans after the war and quiting the idiots nobles from their spoiled positions. 

Hell you can even make LXC and NMJ (did he died before or after JGY becomes Sect Leader? Well if he is still alive, NHS doesn’t destroy him, but then WWX doesn’t come back. If he dies before, then the vengeance is still in play, but it’ll be even more fraughted bcs now JGY goals and methods are a lot more morally grey and watching WWX and LWJ confront that would be super interesting O-O), you can make them see those policies and be like, oh sure, that’s a good thing you’re doing A-yao. But also conflict with their positions in the nobility system, as time pases and JGY subtly passes more changes and brings to ruin those sect leaders more entrenched in the old ways and abusing of their people.

 Programs for literacy, for the spread of knowledge and the civil use of cultivation techniques with the excuse of avoiding beforehand the formation of ghosts and resentment appealing to the lazy nature of the rich while eliminating bit by bit the necessity of their existence, like boiling a frog, the creation of the watchtowers still fits nicely and we know in canon he faced oppposition there so here it’s more important still, even more so Su She I think, will be elated with this turn of events and even more loyal lmao if JGY sells it well and JGY sells his ideas really well. 

Maybe he helps XXC and SL bcs it’s in his interest they find success although he finds them naive; but JGY has a canon soft spot for people who treat him well regardless of his common born status, so. Maybe he intercedes with XY and convinces him to work with him taking out nobles reasonably (I bet XY will like that), and manages to avoid somehow XY elaborated revenge on SL and XXC? or executes him when he is too much of a wild card, but we know how that ended in canon... The best bet is making XY see on his own best interest to help in JGY vision but that’s well. almost crack fic lmao. 

OH! Maybe he finds XY before the massacre of the Chang clan bcs he is searching for someone to help him above table and gets to him by offering a more subtle but still suitable appropriate revenge with the pro bonus of getting to do the same to others after and access to WWX manuscripts. You know this has a much higher chance of working, let’s go with this scenario. So he keeps XY out of his father reach, when he is searching for someone to gain control of the stygian seal and wen ning. Yeah, this will appeal immensely to JGY xD

You know, and JGY being beloved by the people, and having more than a facade of being just or fair, but proving it although it isn't in the interest of the nobles. And as he is politics savvy, although with more effort he could certainly make it so he avoids assassinations or walking in a minefield like wwx etc. 

Depending on the NMJ situation... You could make it so NMJ doesn’t die and then they enter a stalemate of grudging respect bcs JGY wants more an ally in swaying people for his cause than his revenge, although he sure could make non lethal things to inconvenience NMJ lol. And NHS as sect leader wouldn’t have the same power to his decisions and reach, no matter if he is more manipulable; after all isn’t NHS a pampered noble in JGY eyes? Who could be sure if he even would follow JGY anyways... 

And you could give it different endings depending on the development of JGY: a success where he gets to the point were factually the sects aren’t bloods based anymore, just a few like the lan (those traditionalists lol) resisting an unavoidable wave of change taht comes for everybody, and the money doesn’t flow in their pockets like a river to the ocean but instead it goes back to the people. 

You could make it so it’s a partial success bcs JGY is still himself and does more than a few morally grey things that come to light with the NMJ murder reveal, but his changes linger and the common people plus others of the same ideal now trained and in process of being cultivators won’t let themselves be cowered by the awful nobility -another big conflict breeding, and maybe it won’t be successful but people have long memories and books and the new ideals of equality would spread regardless, so it would start again and again each time a bit better-. I think WWX POV in this case would be delicious omg, LXC conflict even more pointed. This would be, I think the more realistic and interesting to write take on the idea. Iand you now, I’m in favor of a novel setting and characterization, but to make it more painful, use the 16 gap of the show and nothing else (i haven’t see the show beyond the first episodes bcs i couldn’t take it lol)  so JGY has more time to make changes. 

You could make a downer ending (this I wouldn’t like lmao, but it’s there) so that shows the cruelty and inability of making changes to something so integrated and supported by itself, that JGY loses much to his revenge he takes more and more radical actions that come back to bit his ass with NMJ and JGS murder revelation. I think XY in here would be appropriate, in an antagonist role as in MDZS. But it still has an impact; JGY’s life, despite his faults was still more inspirational, made better impact than his canon self. Make it poetically tragic and a comment on the futility of trying to change society by oneself, but find beauty in the attempt itself which has created community, which will in the future do the true work of overthrowing the yokes of the high ups, educating and helping each other in their messy human lives.

All this ending, and JL conflict, who at this point has learnt much at his uncle JGY side, who has decided to (dunno about marrying QS and A-Song’s death. depending on your take and ending it’ll have different impact) go on with his labor bc he sees the good on it and swears to not be like the worst of JGY. A legacy he can reconcile with himself thanks too, to the experience of meeting WWX. JL is in a more fraught position with JC in this verse, I think, bc for one, he is more mature/not so spoiled and that would make JC glad, but his ideas are at the same time understable and anatema to JC who puts so much of his life on honoring the clan on making sure the Jiang carry on and his name isn’t forgotten but who recruited from nothing during the war. Who sees the danger in alienating the powers of the cultivation sects bc he saw what it did to WWX and he believes in protecting his own and to hell with the rest. 

So very interesting!!! 

You could spin so many takes from this, it’d be so fascinating and satisfying. I’d love to see the chara of JGY developed in this direction, bcs he has so much potential to waste it in so petty goals. His ambition is certainly big enough to believe he will damn well do a silent revolution well. 

Just, using the classics to argue for equality and education and a good life even if you’re a peasant, using the cultivation basis and its suppose use to better oneself and the world in making a point of avoiding wars and violent retribution (to the public, he’s still a bit of an hypocrit bcs it serves him well to have a stick with which to beat his enemies lmao) and instead use diplomacy and a sort of rehabilitation or service thing. Because those ideas are there, in the different clasics and schools of thought (not confucianism, not as much) it’s just that the nobles and high scholars were never interested and used them to argue for a sort of natural hierarchy were they’re in top. 

 Let JGY create a new school of thought, and LXC and others seeing the merit on it. JGY has the reach and the intelligence and the ability. 

The best revenge is living well and destroying the system which allowed the other to harm you, the ideas, the means. Create a fantasy fulfillment ^^

[writerfangirlbooks]

A Moment in Time

Death X Reader

Prompt request by @archangelarianna: “Death x pregnant reader.” Specifications: “The reader is his wife, she has curly brown hair and brown eyes and freckles.” 

S/o to @siranck for some great ideas! 

Credit to gif owner! 

Word count: around 1000.

You weren’t surprised by how life ended up. It had never been an easy trek. You were still considered to be young by normal standards. The ring on your finger was never too heavy. It was perfect. Life should have been perfect as well.

But of course, Fate had to come along and mess it up. The most painful part was knowing you would more than likely be alone, forever. You had married the man known as Death, an immortal deity that collected and stored the souls as they parted from earth. You had fallen madly in love and soon enough, you were with child. The pair of you got on surprisingly well.

That was until it was time for your soul to be collected. Despite being a rebel growing up, you were a good person. Truly. You knew you would end up in some sort of heaven. The problem was you didn’t want to go. Not yet. Not while you still had a life ahead of you. Not before your child had the chance to be brought into the world and grow up.

It all happened so fast. Your brown curls fell into your eyes as you walked quickly along the sidewalk. Your back was aching and you needed to sit. Death was a phone call away but you didn’t want to interrupt, you knew how busy he was. You could handle errands by yourself. You were very capable and you both knew that. Your confidence was something that had attracted Death in the first place. Personality always played a large part in who you found exciting in life. Sarcasm, witt, the ability to charm so easily... those were just a few characteristics Death possessed. Despite your natural beauty, it was your kindness towards others that led Death to you.

You were the kind of person that stopped to help anybody and everybody. You attended to injured animals, provided to the homeless, and was a friend to all in need. Your sweet stature was endearing to someone always surrounded by such a gruesome, horrid style. Death took advantage of his abilities, showing you the many wonders of the supernatural world you had known nothing about.

Unfortunately, Death’s skills were not enough to stop the stupid people of the world. When your life ended due to careless mistakes, you were cold and confused. You remained on the sidewalk though the world seemed to have filtered through many bright shades, like you were watching an old film.

“Y/N...” The slow, deep voice that belonged to the person you addressed as your home spoke. It was Death. But Death shouldn’t have been there... he had priorities and was nearly an hour away.

“Death? Love, what’s going on?” You asked.

You felt a stirring in your stomach. You closed a fist and released it, scared to glance down. You and your baby were fine. Maybe this was some strange pregnancy deception you hadn’t read about. Nothing was making sense and you felt horribly sick.

“When I said ‘see you later’ this morning, this isn’t what I meant,” Death said with a sigh.

His eyebrows drew together, clearly upset. His dark eyes finally met your brown ones and you were surprised to see tears had begun to fill them. You reached for Death’s hand.

“Y/N, my dear, you died.”

You laughed.

“Don’t sound so morbid, silly. Of course I didn’t die. I was just grabbing some-“

Death’s hand intertwined yours. He was never one to interrupt you, so when he did, you listened.

“Y/N, look around. There is no one else here, it’s just you and me. I’m... I’m supposed to collect your soul now.” Death’s eyes flickered hesitantly between yours and your stomach, that had grown so much in these last few months.

Okay, so you passed denial. Anger didn’t feel right. But grief? Grief was all that remained. Not only would Death and you be losing one another, the loves of your lives, but you would be losing your baby as well. This child would have had two caring, loving parents. They would have been rambunctious and reserved at the same time, willing to have the goofiness of a lifetime, while still behind hesitant to allow for play dates. You didn’t even know if you were having a boy or a girl.

“There’s nothing that can be done?” You whispered.

You bit down on your lip as if that would keep it from shaking and your eyes from filling with tears. You embraced Death, wrapping your arms as tightly as possible, savoring what moments remained.

“I...” Death paused repeatedly, starting but not finishing sentences, before clearing his throat. “I’ve never been one to break the rules. I guess now is why deities like me aren’t meant to be married. Our human selves get too attached to let go. You’ve had such a short life, my dear. I can’t accept this. I can’t.”

His voice grew quieter into your ear. Your hands gripped his jacket, the only strength left to properly stand. Was this goodbye?

Death pulled you apart, staring into your brown eyes, filled with remorse. You saw a flash of what you were sure was heaven. Death was no longer Death, but a person. There were seconds of your child growing up, from taking first steps to running around, giggling, to dealing with school work, and graduating school. That was pure happiness. You could have that fake fantasy, but in your heart you knew that it was only that. Fake.

“Can’t exceptions be made?” You pleaded.

A tear slipped and Death moved to wipe it away. A kiss was placed gently against your forehead. You felt him nod. You waited for an answer.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing a few blocks down, where you had been twenty minutes ago. You glanced at the clock through a store window.

Time had been reversed.

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