#the moments he is shown in gray are him letting his guard down and starting to let Lucy and George in and see the real him

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

Not me psycho analyzing all of the characters colors in lockwood and co again

[therealvinelle]

for experiments sake, let's say Aro DOES have a vampire who can blow people up. how would twilight go then? (that ask was hilarious btw, thank you!)

(Anon is referring to this post.)

Oh my god I'm so glad you asked.

So, since you refer to a post where I used a random generator to determine who would be blown up, I'm going to go ahead and make that Aro's new guy's power.

He can kill anyone within an instant, remotely, and he can't be blocked. His is Death and he will not be stopped. Let's call him Torgrim, it's appropriately badass.

The drawback being that he has no way of determining who gets blown up. It's completely random. Though for the sake of having my character list be relevant, we'll say that his power only works on vampires.

Aro doesn't have any real use for him, but he didn't want the guy runninng around on his own either so, sure. He can join the guard.

SO. I have a list of 53 vampire characters who are alive during the Breaking Dawn confrontation. All of them are named, as I did not feel serious adding "Volturi witness #1" or "Maria's newborn army recruit #1" when I don't know that the already named characters in the appendix aren't witnessing for the Volturi, or that Maria actually has a newborn army at the time of the Breaking Dawn trial.

Also, for the record, I didn't prewrite who gets blown up, I get to find out as I write this post.

Irina is off the list, as Caius just killed her. Torgrim is on the list.

Alec, Jane, and Chelsea try their gifts, each of them fail. The Cullen side is starting to get their hopes up.

Never fear, Caius has an ace up his sleeve.

A new figure, a man cloaked in vantablack (Aro wanted to give him light gray since he can't actually be used for anything, upon second thought he didn't want the guy to get uppity and start using his gift.) steps forward.

No one's seen this guy before.

Everyone turns to Eleazar, and to Edward, wanting to know what this guy can do.

Eleazar stares at Torgrim, squints, tilts his head, squints harder, tilts his head the other way. Finally, he says "He has some kind of offensive power."

Edward doesn't know what the gift is, but he does know that Aro is shitting bricks. He grins, this guy isn't gonna be a problem.

Torgrim grins, theatrically snaps his fingers, and-

Rosalie blows up.

The Cullens and witnesses scream in equal parts shock and terror. Bella can't protect them after all.

Aro, knowing this was extremely lucky and also that they just killed Carlisle's daughter, wants to pack up and get the fuck out, now. They've shown that they have the power to destroy the Cullens, great, let's show them mercy and leave.

There's not going to be a happy ending now, not with Carlisle's daughter dead and Carlisle himself sobbing on the ground, clutching rubble a few hundred meters away, but the Volturi are now in control. There can still be a peaceful ending.

Edward, reading his thoughts, demands that the witnesses hold their positions, Aro isn't in control of this situation after all.

Caius decides to take the gamble. He tells Torgrim to go.

Stefan blows up.

Caius is now cackling loudly, while the Cullen witnesses are closing their eyes in dread. They were fools to believe they could ever stand against the Volturi, or that some newborn girl could possibly protect them from the Volturi.

Aro thinks about how miraculous his luck is, that not only is Torgrim not killing any Volturi, but he is killing the vampires present. This is everything he ever hoped for from Torgrim.

Edward hears all of this.

Being close to panicking, he finds himself incapable of closing his mouth. He tells everybody that Torgrim has no control of his power, and taunts him.

Torgrim has a few issues.

Here he is, so very powerful, he can kill anybody and everybody, he could render Jane, Alec, Felix, and Demetri all redundant, he could singlehandedly rule the world if he so wished.

Except he can't, because his power is randomized.

He possesses such great power, but no way to wield it.

Now, thanks to mathematically improbable luck, the gods have granted him one moment of glory.

And this rebel twerp means to ruin it for him. This rebel twerp dares to mock him.

Torgrim stares down Edward, narrows his eyes, and with every ounce of his being he concentrates on Edward Cullen.

He unleashes his power.

Kebi blows up.

Carlisle begs Edward to stop talking, everyone begs him to stop talking, Bella is losing control of her shield in distress.

Aro is this close to hyperventilating. Torgrim, for the love of god, don't try it again. He doesn't even need to, Alec can take advantage of Bella's inner turmoil now.

Before Torgrim can use his power again, Aro orders him to stop. Point proven, let's be merciful now. (Before Aro himself blows up.)

Edward, desperate for a win in the midst of all this disaster where he just goaded the Volturi into blowing up Stefan and Kebi, decides it's speech time. He starts talking about how the Volturi are tyrants, they're evil and corrupt and will kill just about anybody. Literally, they have a guy who'll kill anybody at all.

Caius starts doing the math on how many vampires Torgrim has to kill before Edward explodes. Sadly for Caius, Marcus was always the one who was good at maths, but Marcus doesn't care anymore. He asks anyway. Marcus, E = {1 ∈ 0 < n }, and P(Edward dies) = 1/E, uh- Marcus, help. MARCUS.

Aro is debating which option makes him look less terrible, to interrupt Edward and start bickering with this seventeen-year-old or wait until he's done before saying anything, or take advantage of Bella's panic and try Alec again, or-

Torgrim uses his power again.

Liam blows up.

Holy fuck, Siobhan should have prevented that. I guess Python is more powerful than she is.

Someone tackles Edward to the ground, the Cullen surrender, and Alice and Jasper arrive just in time to see that they've already lost.

Aro brings Renesmée and Bella with him back to Volterra, not so much out of interest for Renesmée so much as bringing the daughter is a perfect excuse to bring Bella as well. Bella is too dangerous to be left alone out there. In time, she will either come to see the Volturi as friends, or be executed.

This timeline is the nail in the coffin for his friendship with Carlisle, as he killed his daughter and then kidnapped Bella and Renesmée, but it's a sacrifice he can make.

(Though should the opportunity arise...)

A few months later, wanting to prove to the world that this wasn't just a one-off, that Torgrim is indeed a mighty man who can somewhat direct his power in the right direction and should be allowed to do things within the Volturi, Torgrim uses his power again.

Emmett blows up.

... this program is just refusing to harm the Volturi, huh.

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[mangekyuou]

                                             SOUL ━ﾞ

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           kujo jotaro           fem!reader

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           au           angst           fluff           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           the orphaned vampire prince of the           joestar kingdom, jotaro spends his           days alone in the castle that used           to belong to the family that was taken           away from him in his youth by humans.           but one day he meets a human woman           who will change him forever.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           mentions of death ‘ a bit of ooc jotaro tbh

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           2.5k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           this wasn’t the request word for word           per say but i started writing and i couldn’t           stop. so i really hope you enjoy this one.

A light nightly wind slipped through the dark green leaves of the tall trees of the forest. The wind’s whisper was soft and distant, but it could be heard many miles away through the heightened sense of hearing of one being.

Through the chilly winds was another being that interrupted its flow. Its flight was as silent as the dead, as it inched closer and closer to the castle that sat in the middle of the dark forest. Its bright yellow eyes were all that could be seen.

The lanterns placed at the entrance of the castle had revealed the creature. A gray-brown great horned owl flying up to one of the high balconies, perching itself on the shoulder of a dark-haired man who had leaned against the railing.

The man took a long drag from the oddly-colored pipe in his hand, letting the smoke out through his mouth, partially revealing sharp fangs. He opened his eyes, revealing the irises. His irises were blue-green, blood-red had glossed over them in the moonlight from above.

He hummed lowly, staring at the moon.

Tomorrow was the day.

The night the moon would be its fullest.

The night he would bind his immortal dark soul, to the mortal, pure soul of the woman he had come to love.

If you had told him he would be marrying a mortal woman one day, he'd probably kill you where you stood. But when she washed up on the gates of his castle two years ago, bruised and battered with no place to go, his life changed forever.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” The young maiden’s voice’s reached his ears from across the room. She stood, terrified in the corner of the cold room with a glass shard in her hand dressed in old linen he could not fit anymore, as opposed to the bloodied rags she showed up on his doorstep with.

He gave her the change of clothes to not only protect her but to control his vampiric urges.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew who he was, rather what he was. It had dawned on her the moment she found what she assumed abandoned castle in the middle of the forest.

It was clear as night. She had heard the many tales of what lurked deep in the unexplored forest. Ferocious beasts that were taller than man, demon children of the devil, witches of the elements, and bloodthirsty vampires. The red irises that pierced through the darkness of the night he took her by the throat did not fool anybody.

He was a vampire. But not just any vampire.

Prince Kujo Jotaro, the last prince of the Joestar bloodline.

She had heard the tale over and over again through her childhood of the tragedy of the Joestar bloodline and their kingdom from almost a millennium ago. How the kingdom had fallen apart. How its citizens and the Joestars themselves had met their end. How only one remained. Or at least that is what she believed the story had been.

“Would you have preferred me to?” He answered her question with another question.

It was the first time she heard him speak since she had taken shelter unwillingly in his abode. His voice was monotone, uncaring of anything.

Though the truth was, he was unsure. He had been asking himself the same question since he brought her in, checking up on her the past few days, controlling his bloodlust to tend to her wounds and care for them the best he could.

She was a walking blood bank for the taking. She practically plopped down at his feet. Her intoxicating humanly scent, the blood rushing through her veins, her pounding heart. She was just the perfect catch to sink his fangs into and drain the precious life she clung so dearly to as she struggled in his grasp as he had done other victims.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Though she feared him, she stood her ground. She wasn’t going down without a fight, made apparent by the glass shard she held in her hand toward him. Even if she had no chance, she still wanted to attempt to make it out of here alive.

“What is your name?”

She didn’t say, rather firing out an insult.

Her words had begun to irritate him. With a blink of an eye, he stood in front of her. With no time to react, he removed the glass shard she held pushed her further into the corner, entrapping her with the weight of his body. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

Had this been the end?

Jotaro had leaned down, near the shell of her ear. He whispered, “Do you fear me?” He lowered his head further, as she gulped shallowly preparing for her end. She could feel his lips ghosting over the skin of her neck, breath sending chills down her spine.

“N-n-no!” She stuttered out, lying to both herself and him.

He pulled himself away from her as if nothing happened, leaving her out of breath and confused. With that, he had left her. The door was wide open for her to escape, to which she had done. She didn’t spare him a second glance she ran out of his castle back into the forest.

She had nowhere to call her home, but she couldn’t stick around and be the meal of a vampire.

But alas her escape was cut short. Tripping over a large tree root, right into the clutches of a tall blonde man who had lurked in the shadows with those similar red eyes to Jotaro’s. Just her luck to run from one vampire into the hands of another one.

He had done this on purpose. He set her up!

( y/n ) backed into the tree, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“A young, beautiful maiden all alone in these parts of the forest? It’s dangerous out here. Are you lost, little one?” He grinned.

The pet name sent chills down her spine, but not in the way Jotaro’s breath did. This was viler, more disgusting. She hated this feeling, this gross feeling he had on her.

She took in his face, he was quite breath-taking. He was sculpted by the devil himself, dressed in the finest fabrics.

He inched closer to her, as she scooted back further.

“Don’t fear me, little one. I just would—”

She backed into a figure, one that did not feel like a tree. One that felt like strong legs.

“Dio.”

That voice. He had come back, standing right above her.

Jotaro.

“Oh come on, Jotaro. I’m sure you can share your company. Only for a little bite,” The one named Dio suggested with a wink followed by him licking his lips.

Jotaro had reached down, pulling ( y/n ) up to her feet by the back of the shirt she wore. He ushered her behind him, a protective hand placed high on her waist. His touch startled and confused her. Did he not send her to her own death by this man? Was he really trying to save her? Why?

“Jotaro, protecting a mere human?” Dio laughed hysterically. “You Joestars with your human affairs. You would think you’d hate every last one of them after what happened to your poor family before your young eyes, Jotaro. Humans are not our friends. They lie about us, they harm us, they hate us, they fear us.”

“She does not fear me,” He defended. His voice was still flat, void of emotion, but his hand had seemed too tight on her waist for a brief moment as if he was giving her a reassuring squeeze.

A squeeze that was meant to put her at ease and let go of the worries that clouded her mind. A squeeze that was meant to make her trust his words. A squeeze that was meant to show this was his fight. The sudden squeeze was different from earlier when he towered over her in his castle. She did not feel like a helpless doe, rather protected and guarded by the vampire of tall stature.

But his touch was as gone as fast as it had come. He removed his hand from her waist, returning it to his side. It left her with an emptiness that was unexplainable.

“Run,” He whispered to her.

“W-What? But I—”

His eyes hardened, as he looked over his shoulder to her, “If you don’t have a damn soul you care about in this world, then stay here and die! So be it! But if there is one soul, just one soul you want to see again, then you run and you don’t look back.”

One soul?

Not a single one had come to mind. She was alone, without anyone to care for. When she landed at his doorstep, she had been abandoned, left to die.

Those bruises she wore were nothing done by the forest or any beast known to man. Those bruises were caused by the hands of other humans. By the souls who were supposed to be her family.

So there was not a single mortal soul she cared about in this earth, this harsh realm that spared no one. She barely found the strength to care about her own. But there had been a new soul she wondered about.

The immortal, impure soul of the man that stood in between her and her fate.

An evil that stood in the way of another evil.

“What about you?” The words tumbled out of her mouth. He was a strong man, she was sure he could take care of him. Not that she even cared, at least she believed so. But he was the only soul who had shown her such kindness through his own harsh way. But it was kindness nevertheless.

He hadn’t answered her question with words, leaving her with a telling silence.

He didn’t plan on seeing her again. Not that he even believed he would if she made it out of there in time. Nor did he believe he deserved to see her again. He didn’t plan on making it out of this battle alive.

This was his judgment day and he embraced it with open arms.

“I’m sorry...” She muttered out. She turned on her heel, running away from the scene. Her mind has called her a coward. There wasn’t much she could do now. She was mortal, she couldn’t stop a fight between the supernatural even if she wanted.

Her feet came to a sudden halt as a loud groan, followed by a hard thump among the commotion behind her sounded.

She had done what she told him she wouldn’t do. The action that would change her life forever.

She looked back.

Her ( e/c ) eyes had met a scene she could barely make out from her distance, but it was clear who the current winner had been.

Dio held a battered Jotaro up by his throat. He did not struggle, he did not fight, he had just accepted his loss. Though another competitor had made itself apparent before her unbeknownst to the two other fighters.

The sunlight.

Her feet had moved on their own, right back to them. She had no clear plan, but her goal was clear. To save Jotaro from perishing in the sunlight. Even he didn’t understand what her plan was at first, until she collided with him roughly, shielding his body the best she could from the bright rays of the morning.

“What are you—! You…harlot!”

A horrific screech filled their ears until it faded into nothingness.

“You came back and…saved me. Why?”

“The same reason you didn’t kill me the night you found me.”

He didn’t understand what he had done to earn her care. After the battle, she shielded him from the light, making it back into the darkness of his castle where light could not shine through. The wounds he sustained were life-threatening, making it hard for him to move.

He expected his sins had caught up to him, expecting he had finally reached the end of his days. Jotaro closed his eyes for what he believed would be the last time and drifted into a deep slumber.

Alas, his slumber did not last forever. He arose in a cool sweat, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as he looked around the familiar bedroom he had spent his entire life in.

He lived? He was alive?

He stared down at his arms and exposed chest, his wounds were almost completely healed. How long had it been?

A calmly beating heart filled his ears, sounding from just at his bedside. There she said asleep, ( y/n ). She sat in a chair with her head resting on the side of the featherbed. She had been worn out, skinnier than he remembered, dressed in some more old clothes of his, bandages covered her hands. She looked peaceful as she slept, he thought. An involuntary smile had come to his face.

She was the reason he was alive. She took care of him. She...she didn’t leave him alone. He remembered how he reached a hand out to stroke her cheek. Instead of moving away from him as anyone else had, she relaxed under his touch. “Thank you,” He recalled whispering to her.

“Can’t sleep?” That same melodic voice reached his ears from behind him. He could hear the sound of her calm heart beating in her chest from where he stood on the balcony. It put him at ease.

The owl resting on his shoulder had flown away into the night. The light shuffle of her feet grew louder and louder until they came to a sudden halt.

( y/n ) wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, letting her head rest on his broad back, "Having doubts about tomorrow?"

He relaxed under her gentle touch. She had always been so gentle with him. "Why would I?"

"You always answer my questions with questions, why is it?" She pointed out.

"I suppose it's a habit of mine. Now answer this question," He turned around in her embrace, now face to face with the mortal. Not just many mortal, the woman who changed his view of the cruel world that took his family away from him. She changed his view of humans, she wasn't the monster the others had been. She gave him a new reason to live.

Love.

He continued, "Why are you awake, ( y/n )? It's awfully late."

"I couldn't fall asleep. So I thought a late-night stroll around the castle would help me feel tired, and I found you here," She answered, pushing a loose of his hair behind his ear. "We're not supposed to see each other until the ceremony tomorrow when our souls are finally bound as one."

The corners of his mouth curled into a grin, "When have you ever been one to follow the law set in place?"

"You are right about that. If I did follow the law set in place we wouldn't have met one another. I don't know where I would be without you."

"And you'll never have to think about being without me. For the rest of our days, however long that may be, I'll be yours, heart and soul."

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION …

[arandompostarchive]

Inure Ch. 5

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

Since Loki was not allowed to return to Asgard, he had to send Thor to get any books on telepathy. Thor wasn’t the best at that though and hadn’t returned with much of anything. So, with his limited resources he relied on you for help. Which wasn’t going well.

Tony was busy trying to tell Hastings’ blood apart from a normal person, though you doubt he was having any luck. Most likely, he and Bruce were doing more research on the skin and blood samples you gave them. You hadn’t had a proper lab to research yourself in, so you weren’t complaining.

You and Loki decided to meet in your room instead of downstairs. Neither of you wanted to have the entire team staring at you.

He made good company. He was on the more quiet side, even when you were alone. Not that you minded. Sometimes reading in each other’s company was exactly what you needed. But now you were attempting to teach him telepathy. Key word ‘attempting’.

“It’s fairly simple. You just focus on someone and sort of… let yourself into their head.” You were doing your best to explain, but you’d never really had to teach someone before. “The more willing they are, the easier it gets. Or if they don’t know, that’ makes it easy too.” Loki was doing his best to listen, but you could tell you weren’t helping much.

“Sorry, I’m not used to teaching someone else. I’m not used to ‘magic’ either.”

He laughed a bit. “I understand. But you’ve clearly been using magic for a long time, just look at your eyes.”

You were confused for a moment. Was he joking? Maybe you were supposed to laugh… “I’ve never used magic in my life.”

He seemed confused at your statement. “What do you mean? You read minds and there is clearly an illusion over your eyes.”

You understood a bit more now. Since you died, your eyes seemed to be the one thing that didn’t come back properly. To be honest, you hadn’t looked at them in years, so you didn’t remember much. You just knew it wasn’t a pretty picture, but they still worked just fine so you didn’t care. You hadn’t even realized you were using an illusion.

“There is? Are you sure it’s magic?”

Loki seemed to consider your words. “Well, I suppose not, but I’ve never seen a non-magic user cast illusions.”

“Well, my eyes are less than pretty. And I have used illusions to camouflage myself before. I just didn’t realize I was doing it subconsciously.”

Loki and you had come to an unspoken agreement to be friends. You had seen him around the tower. When he attacked New York, he earned a status as the villain, and he hadn’t yet broken out of it. You and him were in similar situations. It started with reading the same books and talking about it, then watching TV together in silence. Neither of you understood the references or some of the jokes, but it was more about being in the presence of another person. A judgement free zone. Both of you had pasts you’d rather not talking about, and being together was a silent agreement to not speak about it. You were thankful to have someone accepting.

Your mind drifted to Bucky. Another accepting person in the tower. He was a bit of a different story. He was once a ‘villain’, yes, but that wasn’t really him. You on the other hand have made all of your own decisions since the beginning. He did seem to understand your reasoning and neither of you talked about the fact that you’re probably on several FBI lists, which was exactly the way you liked it. You didn’t have to talk about all the blood and death.

“I’m sure your eyes look beautiful.” The small compliment made you smile. Loki didn’t seem to notice how kind he was being to you, or he probably would’ve dialed it down a bit. But you weren’t complaining about seeing Loki’s softer side. From what you knew about him, it was a side he hadn’t shown in years.

He was probably just happy that you weren’t eager to show up on any hero’s radar, so he was likely never to see you again after all this had calmed down. He could say whatever he liked and could be certain no one would ever hear anything about it. Who were you going to tell? The rats living in your old apartment?

He was still focused on your eyes and whatever subconscious illusion you had projected over them. When you died, they looked like gray, rotten messes. It was the one part of you that hadn’t completely regenerated. Maybe you needed a few more years in the ground.

“They make me look weird. Not exactly disgusting, but just… off-putting. I haven’t thought about it in a while, really. I never met someone who could see through my illusions.”

Loki pressed his hand to your cheek in a comforting manner. It had been a good 70 years since you’d had any normal human contact besides a handshake or the occasional victim grabbing at you in an attempt to ask for mercy. Normally, you’d shy away from any human contact, but the feeling of his cool skin against your cheek was calming.

If you really focused, you could see a blue tint to his skin. It looked odd, like some sort of false projection. It made you wonder if he was using an illusion too. So, you took a shot in the dark.

“You’re using one too, right?” You were hoping you were right, otherwise you were in for an awkward explanation.

“What?” He said, pulling his arm down. You inwardly frowned at the loss of contact. His cold skin was cooling down your face. It was an odd sensation that you somewhat enjoyed.

“Illusions. You’re using one too, right?” You asked again. You could see him stiffen a bit. To most people, it looked like a simple flinch. But you had been dealing with liars and criminals for decades, you knew how to spot mannerisms. “I’m right then.” You said.

“Yes, you are.”

He seemed to have pulled back. You hit some kind of nerve. His stance stiffened and he seemed more guarded. Not that you blamed him. You decided to shift the topic a bit, maybe distract him from whatever thoughts he was having.

“Well, I say I’d actually teach you. Might as well give it another go.” He quietly agreed and went to sit down on your couch. You joined him and faced him, ready to give teaching another go. You walked toward the couch, crossing your legs and waiting for Loki to join you. He walked over and did the same, facing you.

“Alright, let’s try again. It’s sort of like creating a doorway into someone’s mind and then letting yourself in. I’m not really sure how else to explain.” You tried to think of ways to make this easier, but nothing was coming up. You had learned when you were young. It was a skill that had come naturally, no one had ever taught you.

“Perhaps a demonstration?” He asked, looking toward you.

“On who?” You responded. He didn’t seem like the type to want you rooting around in his head.

“Me. Trial by fire, I suppose.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus. It wasn’t difficult to read Loki’s mind, especially since he was willing to let you. “Like this” You said, hoping it would help. You opened your eyes to see Loki nodding before you backed out of his head. You hadn’t seen anything and you expected that he’d want to keep it that way.

“It’s a lot easier with a willing subject, so go ahead.” He took a breath before closing his eyes.

A minute or two passed before you felt anything. A small tingling sensation at the back of your head. Was this what it was like for everyone when you read their minds? Weird. Suddenly, you felt your surroundings change. You inhaled deeply, confused by your new surroundings.

It was dark. You swore you could feel mud beneath your shoes and the rain on your skin. Looking around, you recognized the place. A graveyard. More specifically, your graveyard.

You could see yourself a little ways away. Lifting three men up over a grave. You could barely hear one of them say, “Your eyes. What the hell happened to your eyes?” You took a few steps closer, hoping to see yourself. Once you got a better view, you could see them for yourself.

You got closer to the group. You could see the pile of bodies next to them and you could spot your grave just behind them.

Your eyes looked gray, almost like they were rotting out of your head. The sight repulsed you. It looked disgusting and you couldn’t focus on the conversation Old You was having with the murderers.

“Where are we?” You heard a voice from beside you and you flinched, forgetting about Loki and training. Right. Training.

“My mind, I assume.” You sounded distracted. “Looks like you went in too far. I think it’s time to get out of my head.” You said quickly, hoping to leave before Loki would witness you murder people 20 years ago. The list of weird things happening to you just seems to get longer by the day.

“Right, I’m just not certain how to,” Loki said. You turned to look at him. The rain had plastered his hair to his forehead, the shoulder-length locks blocking his vision. Every so often he’d have to move the hair aside to see. There was something sweet about the image. If you weren’t stuck in your memories about to witness your first triple murder, you might’ve cared more.

Your own hair was getting in your eyes as the rain poured down hard. You didn’t remember it raining this much. “Okay, take a deep breath and do the same thing you did before, but now you’re leaving. It’s just exiting through that door you made.” You were anxious to leave as you could see your conversation wrapping up. You inwardly cursed when you saw Loki looking too.

Then, you heard gurgled screaming and choking, the sound of you killing the men. Shit. You thought, hoping Loki might not understand what just happened. Old You straightened out the women’s bodies before walking away. The blood almost reached the two of you as it was slowly washed away by the rain. You tried to step away with Loki. The rain turned the nice black dress Old You was wearing into a darker shade.

“What was that?” Loki asked, seeming surprised. Admittedly, you expected a stronger reaction than the one you were getting, but if it meant he’d forget this ever happened, you’d go with it.

“We need to leave. Close your eyes and take a breath, then walk out through the door.” Loki looked back over to Old You who was now walking toward the two of you, staring straight ahead. He allowed the subject to change and closed his eyes. The room once again changed and you both were back on the couch, legs crossed and eyes closed.

“Well, not bad.” You started, feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden invasion. “You might not want to dig that far, though. People don’t tend to appreciate when others go through their thoughts.” You were slightly frustrated. He had gone looking through things he had no business seeing. But on the other hand, he was new at this and you said you were alright with being his subject. He didn’t mean to go through your head. Hopefully.

“I apologize. I need to work on this. But…” He paused for a second. “What was that?”

“A memory. You know what I do to criminals. Those were criminals.” You weren’t ashamed of what you did, though the heroes would find it disgusting. You didn’t want your temporary friend to see you murder people. He would find it a lot less admirable than you would.

Loki nodded. “All criminals?” He asked. You heard the unspoken question. You considered yourself a good judge of character. After all, it became your job to know people. You understood how they worked and you knew bad people. In the time you spent with Loki, he didn’t act the same as them.

“I wouldn’t kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You said, your expression calm. He nodded again, accepting your answer. “Let’s try again. This time, try a little more restraint.” You said jokingly, closing your eyes once again.

By the end of your training session, Loki had improved. He was hardly an expert and even Wanda’s abilities were far more advanced than his. He’d get better with time, but that was something you didn’t have. And you certainly weren’t the best teacher out there.

***

Unfortunately for Fury and the Avengers, they forgot to make you promise not to find targets during your stay and the tower and you had managed to find a new one in New York. You were fully expecting the Captain to send someone over once they realized you were missing, but you could finish off a target before then. It was a fairly straightforward one. A low-level criminal who had been responsible for a string of murders.

You had heard about him from the news. The police weren’t recognizing it as a serial killer to keep the public from panicking, but you decided to do your own research. It was easy to connect him to all of them and find some evidence that he was guilty. Sadly, you had gotten all of this information illegally, so you decided to take care of him yourself. Just because you were sleeping somewhere else didn’t mean you’d let someone get away with murder.

It also helped that he had connections to your last target. In your (illegal) research, you had found one of the SPECTR files in his house. Though you were sure he wasn’t your shapeshifting mastermind, he might’ve known something, making him a perfect target.

***

“Yeah, she’s here.” Bucky said through the com. He heard Steve sigh on the other side.

“Well, try to stop her, but don’t anger her too badly. Without her helping, I don’t know if we’re going to find our guy.” Bucky nodded, though Steve wasn’t able to see him. Loki responded for him.

“The Sergeant is nodding. May I ask, why exactly are you sending us?” Loki was well aware that the team viewed him as untrustworthy, and he understood why. That, and he was still technically on ‘house arrest’ in Midgard, so the team rarely let him out of the tower.

In all fairness, they had sent both Bucky and Natasha with him, so he was still heavily guarded. Over time, he had come to respect the power each team member held, though he was certain he could beat most of them in hand to hand combat.

“She’s actually become friends with you three. If we were to send Tony in there, it’d be a whole different story.” Steve said. A faint “hey!” was heard in the background, but the small team paid no mind to it.

“We’ll be back out soon.” Natasha said.

“The car is ready when you are.” Steve said. He stopped talking and the group walked into the rundown apartment. It certainly wasn’t the cleanest of places and it looked like the perfect hideout for a serial killer. Eventually, they came to a long hall that branched out in different ways.

“Split up. If anyone finds her, don’t piss her off, it won’t go well. I’m pretty sure that woman can take a shot to the head, so she won’t care what weapons you have. She’s essential to saving who knows how many people so don’t get her mad.” The two men nodded before taking a different way and separating.

Loki traveled further down the hallway, doing his best to find you. Then, a thought crossed his mind. He had spent a good few hours in your mind, it couldn’t be that hard to find you, right?

He tried reopening the same door from earlier. He wasn’t a fan of learning analogies, but it seemed to be working so he didn’t question it.

“Spectr?”

He tried to find you in the building. He heard a sigh echo in his head, “This way.” You said, and he started walking forward. He wasn’t entirely certain where he was going, but he assumed you were leading him.

Soon enough, he ended up in one of the rooms. It was dusty and he could see how cobwebs coated the corners of the room. There was one dim light on the other side of the room. It was barely enough to see and the long shadows it cast across the room weren’t helping.

“We can go now anyway. I’m done.” You said, wiping a small knife on something below you. As he got closer, he could see it was the body of a… man? At least he thought it was. There wasn’t much to go off of since almost everything looked mangled. He was completely silent.

He had killed in his life. Plenty of times, actually. He’d fought beside his brother and his friends for hundreds of years and had destroyed a good part of New York not too long ago. But this felt different. And despite the mangled dead body right in front of him, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were okay.

“If you think this is bad, you should see his victims. Poor girls can’t even be identified with teeth.” You mistook his silence for disgust. Not to say he wasn’t unsettled.

“Are you alright?” He asked slowly, trying to spot any wounds on you. It was hard in the light, but you caught the glimpse of a gun in the dead man’s hands, so he was worried.

You stared at him. “You’re worried about me?” Loki nodded. In all honesty, he didn’t know why either. He hadn’t met you all that long ago and most of your time was spent silently reading books. But that’s what was fun. There were so few people who would sit and enjoy their time with him. Most people only put up with him, or spent the entire time trying to drag him out of his room. With you, it was quiet. But the good kind of quiet.

The kind of quiet that two friends can enjoy together. And it was that moment where he felt the tiniest spark. A small voice in the back of his mind that said “can we be more than that?”

And he wasn’t really sure what to think. Love had never gone well for him. On Asgard, he was an outcast. Anyone he fell for found him off-putting. And the people who did spend time with him only did so because they were friends with Thor or because he was royalty. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a real friend. And now, he’d known you for barely two weeks and he only wanted to spend more time with you.

He wouldn’t call it love. Not yet. Even if it was, he was far from ready for something like that. This was more of a deep admiration. And a need to find out how soft your lips were.

So, he stared at you. There was blood on your chin. Only a small amount. You were standing over a corpse holding a knife and looking a bit malicious. But he didn’t care much.

“Well, the bastard got a few shots in, that’s for sure. You guys have a medical wing, right? I’m gonna need some tools. My wounds are already healing and I’m pretty sure there’s a few bullets still stuck.” You laughed. He reached up to his com, alerting the others that he had found you before escorting you outside.

You were more than uncomfortable. You were certain you had a few bullets in your arm, or maybe your stomach. You knew he hit you, but you weren’t really certain where.

“Spectr, you can’t do that.” Steve said from inside the car. Bucky was driving the group back with Loki in the front seat. Tony and Natasha had taken a different car.

“Actually, you never made me promise not to. And to be honest, even if I had promised, I still would’ve done it. He killed people Steve. Eight people actually. Only two have been identified. That’s how bad he left them.” You said, trying to get him to understand. “I’m letting someone like that walk free.” He didn’t say anything the rest of the ride.

He wasn’t happy with you. And he definitely wasn’t happy that a man was dead. But he knew the kind of people you targeted. However low-level, these weren’t good people.

Before you went to the medical wing, escorted by Bucky, you shoved a folder in his hand. He didn’t immediately recognize the language on the front, but upon opening it he saw pictures of you and Peggy. He smiled, tracing the image. They were old pictures. She looked the same as when he met her, and judging by the dates scribbled under some of the images, it was only a month or two before then. There were a few pictures of Howard there as well. One of the pictures was in a lab-like area and he could spot a few different shields in the background. It almost made him laugh. He was so close to meeting you and he never even knew you existed. Life was funny that way.

He read over the few pages that were in English. Whatever language it was, he certainly didn’t speak it. He’d have to ask Friday to translate. He didn’t notice something pop up repeatedly, even on the foreign pages. It looked like a signature, “Alter”.

With you in the medical wing, he figured it’d be best if he asked Tony about it first. He didn’t recognize the name at all, and Bucky was with you in the medical wing. He doubted Bucky would knew either.

“Friday?” He called.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Call a team meeting. Don’t Bucky and Spectr though, the sooner she finishes up with her wounds the better.”

“They’re on their way now.”

He nodded and began walking toward the meeting room. He passed by the medical ward quickly, just to make sure you weren’t severely hurt. He could see you stitching up your own wounds and he cringed a bit, not liking the thought of doing that for himself. He concluded that you were fine with Bucky.

The two of you were laughing actually. He headed back up to the briefing room, leaving Bucky to look after you instead.

***

[ask-the-riders]

His Only Warning

Diamondback doesn't appreciate Othni touching anyone or anything that he cares for, and one day, he decides to confront him. Othni isn't receptive to any of his threats, so he makes sure to give Othni a warning that he's sure to remember for a very long time

((Slight warning; The beginning portion of this is a little suggestive, but I did my best to keep it as vague as possible. There's also some violence since Othni gets his ass kicked the two demons fight, too))

The demon donned a charming grin, idly stretching his arms and resting them along the backrest of the sofa. Val would be out for a while, but he wasn’t complaining; Not when he got to spend some time alone with his host’s adorable little date mate. The female skeleton cuddled up to him and he sighed softly, content as he wrapped an arm around her. Val had given him the green light to temporarily “borrow” his appearance, so right now, his date mate was under the impression that she was with her partner. 

She was oblivious to the fact that he was someone entirely different, and he intended to keep it that way.

Lifting a hand, he gently caught her jaw, prompting her to meet his gaze. Once her golden-orange eye lights met his false multicolored ones, he continued to offer her the same charming grin from before and murmured, “I’m happy that you chose to come see me again, Chimera. There really aren’t any words that could help me express how much I love being with you like this.” The female skeleton offered him a small, sheepish smile in return, her cheekbones flushing a soft shade of orange, “Of course, Val. I really love spending time with you, too.” Despite the way irritation fluttered in his chest at hearing her say his host’s name instead of his, Othni continued smiling, tilting his head as he looked at her. He brushed his thumb over her teeth and her blush darkened ever so slightly. Noticing this, his expression softened and he purred, “You’re beautiful, you know that? Truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” 

Her blush darkened again and she hummed, “I’m… I’m really happy you think so. You’re not so bad looking, yourself.” Still grinning, the demon’s cheeks flushed with a soft cyan blush, “Thanks, Gorgeous. I’m glad to hear that.” The pair gazed at each other for another moment before he slid his hand back along her jaw, still gently holding it as he closed the distance between them, capturing her in a kiss. As he expected, Chimera was quick to reciprocate, happily kissing him back. It wasn’t long before she found herself on his lap, one arm wound around his neck while her hand rested on his chest, weakly gripping his shirt. Othni began to purr softly, his hands absentmindedly caressing her thighs as he allowed himself to become drunk off of the kiss.

Chimera pulled away after a moment, her blush noticeably brighter as she pressed closer to him. Chuckling softly, he held her close, playfully arching a brow bone, “Well goodness me. It sure seems like you were missing me quite a bit, Beautiful.” Noting the way his accent thickened and gained a husky tone, Chimera shivered, smiling shyly and shrugging, “Yeah, I guess I was. Have you been missing me too, Handsome?” Already knowing what it usually meant when she referred to him as anything other than his host’s name, his purr grew louder and he smirked, “Of course. I’ve been missing you dearly.” Chimera shivered again, unconsciously squirming as her blush became even brighter than before. Just as he was preparing to kiss her again, the scent of something warm and musky that was reminiscent of cucumbers flooded his senses, and he stopped. Breathing in deeply and taking a moment to process the scent, he made a face; Ah. It would appear that they had a visitor.

The female skeleton tilted her head, her brow bones furrowing, “Val?… Is everything ok?” The demon made a sound of confirmation, smiling at her and lightly squeezing one of her thighs, “Everything’s fine, Gorgeous. I do believe our time together is coming to a close, though.” Also beginning to pick up the scent, Chimera let out a deep sigh, “So it would seem.” There was a knock on the front door and Chimera slid off of the demon’s lap, following his lead as he stood. He made his way to the door, the skeleton close behind him; Damn it. Everything was going so well, and if the snake-loving prick hadn’t shown up, they could be going even better.

Answering the door, Othni felt himself immediately become tense as the ever analytic green stare of the demon outside settled on him. Chimera cleared her false throat, drawing the other demon’s attention away from Othni as she spoke, “Do you need something, Soren?” Diamondback arched a brow, briefly considering the question before he hummed, “Yes, actually. I need you to head home now. You have company, and he’s becoming rather antsy to see you again.” She let out a deep sigh, “Of course he is. Cobalt, I’m assuming?” Diamondback shook his head, “Skink.” A grin slowly stretched across her face upon hearing her guest’s name and she looked up at Othni, “I’m sorry for the interruption and for leaving so suddenly… If you’d let me, I’d like to make it up to you tomorrow.” 

He nodded, gently taking one of her hands and raising it to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It’s alright, Chimera. If you’d like to see me again tomorrow, I’d love to have you.” Her cheekbones gained a soft orange blush again and she leaned up to steal a kiss from him, murmuring playfully, “Sweet… So it’s a date, then?” He made a sound of confirmation, “It’s a date.” He reluctantly released her hand and she looked up at Diamondback, “Are you heading back with me, Soren?” The demon in question offered her a tiny smile, “I’d like a few words with Val, first. If you’d like to start heading back, I’ll catch up with you.” Already well aware that his statement wasn’t up for debate, she nodded and chirped, “Ok! I’ll see you at the house then, I guess.” Diamondback tilted his head, “You’ll see me before you even get there, and that’s a promise.” 

Chimera made a sound in acknowledgment, smiling up at him again and lightly nudging him as she slipped out of the front door. Diamondback waited for her to be a full block away before he shifted his attention to the other demon, his grin fading as his voice took on a deadly serious tone, “You are to keep your disgusting mitts off of her, Othni. Tell me you understand that, so I may leave.” Othni was momentarily taken aback, shifting back to his normal form and looking down at Diamondback as if to challenge him; There might have been no more than a three inch height difference between them, but Othni was more than willing to take full advantage of it whenever the chance presented itself. Regarding Diamondback with clear indifference, he shrugged, “I’ll do whatever I want, Soren. You seem to have forgotten that I don’t take orders from the likes of you.” The snake demon felt one of his eyes twitch and he hissed, “Only my friends are allowed to call me that. You’re not my friend. Never have been, and never will be. Unless you’d like me to shove my foot up your ass, you’ll watch yourself. Surely you’re smart enough to know your place by now.” 

Othni let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes, “Fine, fine. Diamondback to your face, egotistical jackass to your back. How’s that sound?” Diamondback narrowed his eyes at the other demon, “As long as you keep your hands off of Chimera, then I don’t care what you call me behind my back.” The tiger demon pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh, this again. If the thought of me touching her bothers you so much, then why don’t you just mind your own damn business?” Diamondback lashed out, a hand shooting forward to snag the collar of Othni’s shirt, and before Othni could process what was happening, he’d already found himself being thrown back into the house. He collided with a wall, letting out a startled yelp, and catching him off guard a second time, Diamondback appeared before him again. One hand latched onto Othni’s face, slamming his head back into the wall at full force and cracking both the drywall and the wood beneath it, earning another shocked cry. 

Opening his mouth and baring his fangs, he hissed, “I wonder… If I bit you and injected my venom, how long would it take for you to drop dead? How long would it take for you to shrivel up and rot?” Othni began to struggle, clawing at his arm, and Diamondback scoffed, slamming his head back into the wall again. A faint rattling sound began to echo around them, and as Diamondback’s fangs could be felt pressing into one of his arms the smallest bit, Othni let out a pathetic squeak, his eyes widening. The rattlesnake demon growled, and then proceeded to sink his teeth into the other’s arm. His eyes began to glow softly as he began to inject a small amount of venom, releasing Othni’s arm after a few seconds and stepping back away from him. He released his face as well, watching blankly as Othni cried out, his body twitching and his face becoming flushed. Diamondback watched as the other demon’s grayed skin began to darken and turn black around the bite, and he took note of the way he began to gasp for air, nearly gulping it down. 

Even as Othni toppled to the ground and began to dry-heave, he appeared unimpressed. Spitting out the tiny bit of blood that was in his mouth and wiping off his face, he lightly nudged Othni with his foot, gaining his attention before speaking, “I didn’t inject enough to kill you, but I did, however, inject enough to make you wish you were dead. It’ll hurt for a while and you’ll be paralyzed soon enough, but you’ll live. This is the only warning I’ll give you. Unless you want to die, then stay away from Chimera.” Othni wordlessly nodded, before his body lurched and he finally emptied the contents of his stomach onto the wood floor. Without any further conversation between them, Diamondback turned and began to head for the door; He had places to be, friends to visit with, and a mate to entertain. He didn’t want to linger here even a single second longer. 

[fallingappleshurt]

Could you possibly write a SBI FD AU of all of the boys at Christmas. Could be at Christmas or any other time during the winter. Genuinely all I want to read right now. <3

Ty, Anon

Snowy Boys Incorporated (Part 1/2)

Sorry y’all, apparently word limits are a thing but anyways here it is!

Sorry if the flow of this was weird, it jumps from Phil to Tommy to Techno back to Tommy then to Wilbur, I have no excuse

This AU was made my the wonderful @antarctic-bay go check her out! And please keep in mind my writing isn’t canon!

Also the two times French is mentioned I used google translate because I am tired

Anyways hope you enjoy!

Phil parked the car and texted Techno and Wilbur to come help him and Tommy with the tree and ornaments. He turned off the engine and pocketed his phone, hoping Techno and Wilbur had actually moved the furniture to make room for the tree while him and Tommy had actually got the tree and ornaments from a storage unit.

“Phil- Phil! The tree is stuck!” Tommy said, Phil could hear him yanking at the box.

“Hang on, watch the ice,” Phil came around to the trunk of the car, ignoring the snowflakes fluttering down, he saw Tommy trying to shake the box from it’s jammed position.

“How did you manage this?”

“I don’t know!”

“Let me try,” Phil grabbed the sides of the box, trying to slowly wedge it out, but to no avail. “How did you do this?”

“Wh- How is this my fault?” Tommy cried, starting to pull at the box again.

“You’re the one that packed it!”

“What are you guys doing?” Phil looked over to see Techno standing by the car, eyebrow raised.

“Tommy’s shit at packing and got the tree stuck.”

“That sounds like him-”

“Hey!”

“You’re just mad-” Techno was caught off guard by Wilbur coming up behind him, slipping, and knocking them both to the ground.

“Wilbur what the fuck!”

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me!” Phil cackled as Tommy laughed loudly, wheezing at the end.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole! Instant karma!”

Techno responded by grabbing a fist full of snow and throwing it at Tommy, it landed on his chest and he yelped.

“It got in my shirt!”

“Good.”

After Techno and Wilbur had untangled themselves and dusted the snow from their clothes, they started to help them with the tree. They ended up having Techno climb into the car and lower one of the backseats and after much more struggling and wiggling the box they managed to free the tree from its very old, silver chamber.

Wilbur grabbed the boxes of ornaments and started up the stairs while Tommy and Techno followed with the tree and Phil locked up the car, listening to his brother's banter and hoping they actually wouldn’t try to race up the stairs.

He was glad to see his brothers more relaxed, they had all been stressed with finals right before break, he had come home from work many nights seeing them with books and papers spread out across the table, empty cups of coffee and energy drink cans littered around.

It was nice to see them fooling around.

Phil entered the apartment and slipped off his shoes, throwing them in the pile, to see Techno dragging the tree out of it’s box while Tommy and Wilbur pulled cobwebs off of ornaments.

They set up the tree in the corner of the room by a window and started to mess with the cords to plug in the lights, after unplugging and replugging every cord they managed to fit the tree lights in.

They started decorating, adding on colorful glass balls and a few candy canes just to be extra even though they knew Wilbur would eat them later.

Phil grabbed his personal favorite ornament, a wooden one with Snoopy and Woodstalk wearing santa hats in the snow, and hung it on the tree. They each had a favorite ornament, Techno’s was a mini violin, Wilbur’s an ornate snowflake, Tommy’s was a glass pickle. They were all hung on the front of the tree where they were easily seen.

They still had some of the little foam ornaments, the kind that are made in elementary school and kept for nostalgia and nostalgia only. Some still had pictures, Phil with an old striped bucket hat that they only let him keep for the first day of school. He missed that hat, it had been lost in a move.

Pulling more from the box, he found a snowman with a picture of Techno, glasses too big for his face, smiling shyly at the camera with paint on his hands. A baby blue foam mitten had a picture of Wilbur, who wasn’t facing the camera, with wild hair and a huge grin on his face as he slapped at a toy keyboard. A fading gingerbread man had a picture of Tommy grinning, eyes squeezed shut with colorful band aids across his face.

He took pictures with his phone and hung them up on the tree, much to his younger brother's annoyance.

Wilbur scrapped old tinsel out of the bottom of the boxes and put a few strands on the tree. Tommy grabbed the bundles of old lights and proceeded to strong them along the walls of the apartment.

“These are the next best things to LED lights,” He said, almost matter-of- factly, Phil just laughed as Tommy attempted to tape some of the wire to the wall. He was eventually able to pull it off after continually yelling at Techno to bring him duct tape and ‘fucking help him or he’d shake the bunk’.

After they had finished setting it up, they turned off all the lights except for the tree and strung ones on the wall. The colorful candy ones shown in the window by the tree and the golden light showed nicely against their white walls.

“The yellow lights kind of look like fireflies,” Techno mused, rubbing at his eyes.

“Maybe in video games, but this is the real world,” Tommy scoffed.

“Aww, are you tired?” Wilbur teased voice raising multiple octaves, “Little Blade need a na-”

Techno shoved Wilbur’s face away, “Shut up Wilbur,” He grumbled.

“When was the last time you slept?” Phil asked.

“Uh,” Techno paused for much longer then necessary, “Can’t remember.”

“Huh, that’s definitely not concerning-”

“I think this looks great!” Tommy interrupted, “Considering half of this stuff was covered in cobwebs!”

Phil nodded, “Oh wait, we forgot the star!” He started digging through one the boxes, his brothers left him to it and sat down on the couch. The star was always Phil’s thing, it was never a spoken rule, just something they had agreed on. Once he found it, Phil placed it on the tree then sat down next to his brothers.

He asked Wilbur about his day and Wilbur told him about finals hell and how every student looked dead or was trying to sleep in the cafeteria.

He turned to the others only to find that Techno and Tommy had already passed out, leaning on each other. Phil nudged Wilbur with his elbow, nodding towards the sleeping pair. They both pulled out their phones, taking pictures.

“Blackmail?” Phil asked, a grin pulling at his lips. Wilbur nodded.

“Blackmail.”

Phil took Techno’s glasses off of his face and set them on the coffee table and Wilbur covered them with a blanket.

The next morning Tommy sat up groggily, his first thought being that he was really hungry, so after untangling his and Techno’s limbs he padded into the kitchen. He started making a bowl of cereal and scrambled eggs, he made them in the lazy way, whisking the eggs with a fork then putting them in the microwave.

Then he remembered that it had been snowing the day before and rushed over to the window. A thick white blanket covered the terrain, sparkling white with soft gray clouds coating the sky. He opened the window and poked at the snow. He squished a fistful in his palm, it was packed, heavy snow.

Perfect for snowball fights.

He was going to destroy his brothers.

He closed the window then went to grab his food and sat at the table. A few minutes later he saw Techno sit up and rub at his eyes, Tommy watched him look around for a moment.

“Glasses are on the coffee table,” He supplied, taking a bite of cereal, Techno gave him a thumbs up then headed into the kitchen, starting to make a cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you eat breakfast?” Tommy asked, Techno looked over at him, glaring at his food.

“Why do you eat breakfast? It’s too early for food,”

“But not too early for coffee?”

“It’s never too early for coffee Tommy.”

Techno sat down across from him, obviously still trying to wake up fully. Just as Tommy was finishing his food Phil emerged from the hallway.

“You guys ready for today?”

“Heh?”

“What’s happening today?”

Phil raised an eyebrow, “Did you forget? We are helping down at the St Francis soup kitchen- my friend is low on people-I told you about this a week ago.”

“I completely forget,” Techno’s response was muffled by the coffee cup.

“Well we gotta be there in like an hour, get moving!”

Tommy put his dishes in the sink and saw Wilbur standing in the hall, staring him down.

“Hey Tommy, didn’t you wanna shower this morning?” He asked, eyes drifting towards the bathroom.

“Wilbur don’t-”

“Tommy-”

“Wilbur don’t-” Tommy’s begging was cut off as Wilbur shot to the side, dove into the bathroom and slammed the door. Tommy rushed over, pounding on the flimsy wood.

“Damn it Wilbur! Open the door!”

He heard the shower start and pounded harder.

“Wilbur you bitch!”

“Tommy it is too early for you to be this loud-” Techno said from the table.

“I’ll be quieter sooner if you help me open the door!”

Techno considered it for a moment then stood up, “Where is that bent coat hanger-”

“For fucks sake-” Phil put a hand on Tommy’s chest then knocked on the door, “Wilbur! You got ten minutes!”

Wilbur’s ‘okay’ was muffled from the door, Tommy sighed, leaning on the door, deciding he would absolutely beat the shit out of his brothers later.

They were running late because of course they were, between the fight for the bathroom, getting the car cleaned off and getting to the soup kitchen in the day before Christmas traffic was not the easier task, at least for the Pandels.

They finally pulled up to the soup kitchen and parked in the back, heading inside. They had barely managed to take off their coats before an employee pulled them into the kitchen.

Tommy was barely able to process what the man said, something about being understaffed, and shoved Tommy next to another boy who was sorting out juice boxes and fruit cups onto trays.

His brothers were being pulled aside to do actual cooking, they had done it before once when Tommy was sick and had to stay home.

After sorting and setting out all of the food along a conveyor belt type thing, Tommy wasn’t really sure what it was, they pulled up a metal covering so people could come get food.

Each person had to pass out different foods to people, Tommy was put at the end of the conveyor belt, handing out christmas cookies. Wilbur was next to him, offering different drinks.

Multiple different people came down the line, filling their plates with food and sitting down in the cafeteria. There was a TV in the corner and a bookshelf, other people milled about, soft chatter against the pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

Two kids walked through the line with their parents, the girl looked at Wilbur and wrinkled her nose.

“Your hat looks weird,”

Tommy cackled and gave her an extra cookie.

Eventually they shut the windows and started to clean up the kitchen, putting plates and trays into a huge dishwasher, boxing things up in a walk in freezer and handing out non perishables to people as they left.

Tommy leaned against the counter, Techno and Phil were taking off aprons and putting them in a laundry pile, his shoulders loosened. They had helped people, it felt good;

“Just helped some people- feeling good-”

“Just killed a woman, feeling good!” Wilbur cut in, elbowing Tommy in the ribs, he elbowed him back. “Dickhead,”

“Hey! We’re gonna be heading out soon!” Phil called across the kitchen.

“Is there anything else we have planned?” He asked Wilbur.

“We’re making cookies,”

“Why?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Cause Techno got some new recipes from that gang of Lesbians at school.”

Tommy shuttered, “Oh I remember them, they scare me-”

“I thought you said they were cool,” Wilbur interjected, starting to follow Phil out the door.

“They are! But they also scare the shit out of me!”

Wilbur laughed, “As they should.”

Techno was watching Tommy slide around the kitchen in his socks when Phil asked; “Techno, you said you had some new recipes?”

He nodded, “Yeah, the Lesbian group chat gave me some,”

He remembered getting them was an interesting process, he asked them if they knew of any good cookie recipes and they had all started spamming for one girl to get online. When she did get online he asked the question again. She responded in all caps ‘You fucking fuck! Of course I have some! I am a cottagecore lesbian! What do you take me for!’ Then sent him 7 different recipes.

Wilbur snorted, “I still can’t believe you got taken in by a group of lesbians.”

Techno rolled his eyes and sent two of the recipes to Phil, who was preheating the oven.

“Why are we making so many?” Tommy asked, grabbing the baking sheets from the cabinets.

“They are for the neighbors,” Phil said.

“As a gift?”

“As an apology, you guys are fucking loud.”

Techno smiled, getting out the measuring cups and starting to put ingredients into the bowl. One was a recipe for sugar cookies, which is what he and Wilbur were doing, and the other were snickerdoodles which Phil and Tommy were in charge of.

Techno and Wilbur always worked well together, they flowed around each other, passing ingredients and helping each other out. Meanwhile Phil and Tommy had spilled half of the things they were trying to get into the bowl.

As Wilbur and Techno put their cookies in the oven, Phil nudged Tommy.

“Tommy, where is the rest of the butter, you said you grabbed more,”

“I did, I grabbed-”

“Then give it to me,”

Tommy didn’t move, “Hey Phil, remember when I said I had the butter-well- I lied.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry Phil, We still have some over here,” Wilbur passed a stick of butter behind him.

“Do you guys want some help-” Techno asked, biting his tongue, Tommy pushed him away.

“No! We got this!”

So Wilbur and Techno hung out in the living room while Phil and Tommy tried not to kill each other over cookies. It turned out to be for the best though because when they were ready to put their cookies in, Wilbur and Techno’s were done.

The two decorated their cookies with colored sprinkles, the recipe said it was optional but Wilbur had made the excellent point that sprinkles should never be optional.

Once Phil and Tommy’s cookies were done and left out too cool, Techno’s phone buzzed.

[godkilller]

@shirenui144

A more sombre question, but had me wondering... Has Gin ever cried / what would it take to make him cry? I imagine it would be verse dependent, but could a man this guarded ever visibly show such emotional hurt?

          out of character.  Why must you hurt me.

          But it’s an excellent question, and as you say too -- Gin has become such a guarded, numbed, and twisted man. He has, for lack of better wording, killed off that part of himself long ago. He is also one of the topmost guarded characters in Bleach, even Ichigo’s little trick of ‘reading his opponent’s heart’ during battle did not work on Gin. Gin was empty. Gin wasn’t even ‘looking at Ichigo’ with his heart when fighting. They did not reach each other. Gin is so utterly closed off from others and himself that there’s an eerie absence of self present in him, a swallowing abyss, intimidating and oppressive. Gin has also spent his entire existence isolated, he joined Aizen extremely young and thus his centuries-long otherness began. He cannot show emotions akin to Toshiro, who is often used in ways alongside Gin to show what happens if one shows emotions and weakness to Aizen Sousuke via childhood friends. Renji and Rukia, too, are used in ways that contrast Gin and Rangiku subtly in the background. Gin’s interactions with Rukia about Renji, and his interactions with Toshiro about Momo are to make Gin more of an other. He is removed, unlike them.

          So Gin does not despair openly like they do. He doesn’t shout or cry for the audience to see. He’s a villainous cold-hearted bastard.

          This is on top of the potent sense of cultural toxic masculinity and military way of avoiding / “dealing with” emotionally charged moments, not speaking of trauma, and the whole nine yards of suppression which channels into self-worth issues and a tendency for violence. Most characters in Bleach, and especially male characters, aren’t allowed to really stop and think about what they’re feeling, doing -- Ichigo being able to do a decent amount of that, yes, with his protagonist badge, but even then ?  It’s pathetically insufficient, barely a taste of what Ichigo actually should be experiencing, and no other characters are allowed to mourn losses or suffer long-lasting consequences for their actions, for injuries, for mistakes, for harmful words or acts. It’s an action / fighting series, the audience is here for big flashy swordfights and cool abilities, not emotions. Certainly not darker topics of PTSD and the like.

          You can slice it any which way, but Gin grew up as a child soldier. It can be contrasted by the fact that the majority of the Gotei 13 / Shinigami characters are shown, in flashbacks, as entering the Academy whilst in adulthood, becoming Shinigami once adults, with the exception of people like Toshiro, Momo, Hiyori, who all look / are perpetually young.

          Gin is a little older than Toshiro, for context, by the way -- and he is younger than Byakuya. Because Tite doesn’t know how the ages of his own characters work, it can be argued that Gin and Hiyori are possibly within the same ballpark in terms of ages. But like. Look at her. What the fuck. ANYWAYS, the point is ?  Gin’s young, and his trauma is fairly fresh. From the Winter War -- and then 110 years into the past to the Turn Back the Pendulum arc -- Gin spends the majority of his childhood either playing caretaker for Rangiku, who is actually a little older than him, and then killing; first, the three Shinigami that attacked Rangiku, then the Third Seat of the Fifth Division, and then many more likely during his career of observing failed projects at Aizen’s side, witnessing horrific Hollowification experimentations, and many more things. The crucial period of development for things like higher level empathy  ( Gin showcases it by sharing his food with Rangiku, a stranger, and then we see the absolute absence of it from then on )  and Gin swiftly enters into the midst of Erikson’s industry vs. inferiority stage of development; what does he have to offer the world ?  What can he become ?  Will he be good enough ?  This is the stage in which Gin makes the connection as well as makes peace with becoming a monster; this is what I’m offering, this is what I’m becoming, this will be good enough.

          He flipped a switch. It’s questionable whether or not Gin has the ability to cry once he’s an established Third Seat. It’s gone, it’s been swallowed down a hole so deep and dark Gin doesn’t want to go searching for it. He doesn’t want to cry. Gin already has a negative connotation connected to crying given his quote “I’m gonna become a Shinigami, change things for ya, so that you don’t have to cry anymore, Rangiku.” Not crying = good. Not crying means better. Rangiku crying over what was done to her was what embedded into Gin that he needed to be stronger. No crying allowed. None. In his mind, obviously, Gin doesn’t actually make that connection that ‘because Rangiku did this, I’ll do this’ no, he’s not so meticulously aware yet, but there’s certainly an imprint left on him from those earlier years in the Rukongai, dreading her tears, hating them, hating those men, and so crying = murderous intent. Crying = anger.

          If Gin cried as a child, he didn’t realize he was doing so. I can see him crying in his sleep from a dream, a nightmare, a jam-packed series of emotions hitting him whilst vulnerable, whilst unable to smile and swallow it all down. I can see him waking from it and wiping at his face, feeling utter detachment like an ache in his chest, an otherness, like that wasn’t even him crying, that wasn’t him. Gin wouldn’t think more of it, he wouldn’t dare linger on the thoughts. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.mp4 and all that jazz.

          Gin is more likely to lash out in anger than let himself cry. I have a headcanon / drabble somewhere of Gin screaming into his inner world, clutching at his hair, feeling so terribly close to crying but he can’t, it literally will not happen. He’s too bottled up and frustrated from that that when he actually has an opportunity to cry and it doesn’t naturally happen because he’s become so suppressed, it just outright angers him. Because he has latched everything up, lock and key, by the time Gin’s an adult -- if he were to cry as an adult, it’d be during a flurry of explosive emotions. He cannot just casually let loose, no, that door’s jammed shut, it’s been coiled tight in him. A pit of despair by the time the Winter War rolls by. Gin admits to feeling anxiety, dread, during that conflict -- a sign of slowly coming undone, no longer able to keep himself from hesitance, doubt, insecurity, and anticipation hovering around him like a dark cloud. Gin cannot cry, though, not now. Not when he’s so close to making all the pain worth something...

          So it’s no surprise that Gin really only starts getting the actual opening to properly cry in my canon divergent verses. But the catch !!!!  Gin has failed so thoroughly and so brutally that he feels he doesn’t deserve to weep about it. That this is merely a fraction of the karma he deserves. He experiences suicidal ideation, daydreaming of how it’d simply be easier if he hadn’t survived at all. He feels too hollow to cry, then, at the start. He feels too heavy, too much, it’s too much to cry about. He ruined himself and Rangiku for nothing. He did all of this for nothing. And now Rangiku wants answers, still waiting, watching him, and he can’t cry in front of her. IT’S STILL INGRAINED IN HIM FROM CHILDHOOD: she’s the one who cries and he’s the one who comforts. The audacity of him to cry in front of her after everything he put her through, as though he were the victim and her the one needing to comfort him. Gin may be morally gray, but at times he truly sees the world in black and white. No moderation, no give and take.

          It’d hit him later, when he’s learning to become more vulnerable. When he’s trying to open up to Rangiku about something he has to rip from himself, his heart holding onto this sorrow for so long Gin has to surgically remove the truth from himself. AS A CHILD, WITNESSING WHAT HAPPENED TO RANGIKU COUNTS AS A TRAUMATIC EVENT. Not talking about it for 110+ years does a number or two on you when you at last, FINALLY, tell her the fucking scoop. Gin repressed what happened to Rangiku because he recognized that Rangiku did not fully and properly remember, recollect, what happened to her. He knew. Gin saw.

          Compartmentalizing her trauma on top of his own, as though a keeper of it, a sin-eater, Gin would feel absolute despairing relief at finally telling her. Despairing because he’ll be inflicting upon her something he’s been holding back, holding that door shut, for the entirety of their knowing of one another, and to finally let go of the door and let that beast of trauma go charging at her undeterred ?  There’s immense guilt attached to this entire affair. Gin feels childlike guilt; why her, and not me ?  I wish it could’ve been me, we could’ve traded places and I’d be fine, I’d live, we could live happy together.  Akin to survivor’s guilt, Gin wishes those men had found him and taken a piece of his soul rather than Rangiku’s. The ‘why’ of it haunts him. Why her. Why didn’t I stop them. Why didn’t I show up sooner. I could’ve bitten at them, kicked and hit, we could have escaped together -- or at least you could have. Gin also feels guilt at a base adult level: why am I keeping this from her ? No, it’s too late to tell her, she’s happier now, there will never be a good time to tell her.

          There are so many things, feelings, thoughts, that Gin has never shared with Rangiku due to it all being tied to the unspoken secret he’s let fester inside of him.

          SO WHEN GIN FINALLY TELLS RANGIKU WHY HE JOINED AIZEN, WHY HE TRIED TO KILL AIZEN, WHY HE SAID THOSE WORDS TO HER DURING THAT BLIZZARD AND BECAME A SHINIGAMI ... GIN’S GOING TO BREAK DOWN.

          The truth is tied to vulnerability in Gin’s mind. Telling it means ripping himself apart at the seams. Everything he crafted himself out to be was made around this secret. It’s going to be bloody, it’s going to hit him like a fucking train. Gin’s going to feel it coming, rumbling on the tracks, he’ll hear it even, that approaching storm, he’ll know by the prickle at his eyes and the closing of his throat, but still nothing’s ever prepared him for the absolute choked finality of the truth, and he’s going to do his best to hold it back -- it’s instinctive, it’s in his blood by now to mask it, stop it, divert and drawl his way out of it. But this time he can’t just stop halfway and distract her, talk about something else. No, Gin’s cornered himself and it’s high time Rangiku got the truth from him, he can’t run away any more. He’ll have to grit his teeth and talk through it, swallow it back just enough to speak, to tell her what he’s done to them both and for what, for why, it’s the worst possible conversation they could ever have, but one they need. And Gin’s going to find himself incapable of holding back a sob the more he discloses, the more that slips out and escapes him the more the emotions tied to that sunken anchor come up too. He will feel simultaneously lighter and heavier for it.

          There are numerous ways Gin’s thought about wording it. He’s thought about the numbed approach, MISSION REPORT style: Aizen Sousuke harvested souls from the 64th Rukongai District, they took a piece from you. Perhaps not, no, not like that. Maybe... back when y’were a kid, there were three Shinigami assigned to the 64th District to collect souls to fuel Aizen Sousuke’s Hogyoku. They took somethin’ from you. I saw it. I saw them hoverin’ over you, I saw it in their hands. I saw’em offer it up to Aizen in the forest, collectin’ firewood. I saw him.

          WHY DIDN’T I STOP HIM, WHY DIDN’T I ATTACK THOSE THREE MEN THEN AND THERE IN BROAD DAYLIGHT WITH YOUR COLLAPSED FORM A FEW FEET AWAY, MAYBE I COULD HAVE TAKEN THEM ON AFTER ALL. I COULD HAVE CRUSHED A SKULL IN WITH STONE, I COULD’VE STOLEN HIS SWORD BEFORE THE LIFE FULLY FADED FROM HIM AND MADE IT VANISH, I COULD’VE CARVED THROUGH THE SECOND, SLICE THE TENDON AT THE THIRD’S ANKLE AS HE ATTEMPTED TO FLEE, WARN OTHERS. SLIT HIS THROAT AS HE CRAWLED AWAY. YOU’D HEAR IT, OFF TO THE SIDE. YOU’D SEE ME COME UP TO YOU WITH BLOOD SPLATTERS. YOU’D SEE ME LEAN OVER YOU WITH NOT A PERSIMMON OFFERED, NO, YOUR OWN FUCKING SOUL THEY PLUCKED FROM YOU. SHAKY HAND. BLOODIED HAND. TAKE IT, TAKE IT BACK. I FIXED IT --

          Just tell her. JUST TELL HER.

          DO YOU REMEMBER THE DAY WE MET, RANGIKU ... ?

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Strangers (Pt.6)

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

As usual, Virgil hadnt slept very well, he'd been plagued throughout the night by memories that werent his, and this only worsened when he walked into the living room to see six silver necklaces on the table, each shaped as a different animal.

"JANUS- PATTON-" Virgil stood as far from the table as he could manage, backing against the wall.

"Virgil? What's wrong?-" Patton was the first to speak, rushing to Virgil's side.

"What are- what are those doing here-" Virgil whispered, pointing a shakey hand toward the necklaces.

"Relax Virgil- we're just researching them, you're still wearing the spider necklace are you not?" Janus said as he entered the room.

"I cant take it off. . ." Virgil said softly.

"We'll find a way, eventually, for now we need to research," Patton said, before walking over to the table, followed by Janus. Virgil waited a few seconds before sitting down as well.

"So what do you know so far?" Virgil said, scanning the necklaces.

Aside from the purple-eyed spider around his neck, and the red-eyed wolf Romulus possessed, he counted six other colors on the table in front of him.

A blue-eyed frog, an indigo-eyed unicorn, a yellow-eyed snake, a green-eyed kraken, a pink-eyed dear, and a black-eyed fox.

"Other than the fact that the color schemes bare a frightening resemblance to the color-coded friend group we maintain, not much," said Janus.

"So you brought more potentially cursed necklaces into the house without any idea of their relation to us." Virgil said monotonously.

"Well- we cant be sure all of them are cursed- I mean Roman's the only one acting different-" said Patton.

"That thing isnt Roman. I refuse to associate the two." Virgil growled. Patton flinched slightly and Virgil felt a guilt well up in his chest.

"Well- they all involve specific animals and colors obviously, and Romulus keeps calling me. . . Princess. . . And the girl in my dreams was slated to be royalty last I checked, so. . ." Virgil said, trying not to vomit as the word princess swam in his head in that condescending tone of Romulus'.

"The could be part of a royal court or guard! Virgil you genius!" Patton said excitedly. Virgil blushed slightly and moved to cover his face.

"I think this would be better resolved at the library," said Janus.

After an hour or two of deliberation and subsequent preparation for leaving the house, the trio found themselves huddled up in separate corners of the library.

Which, reflecting back, wasnt the best decision.

"Princess! I didnt see you home last night! I thought you promised you'd be back for dinner. . ." Virgil froze as he heard Romulus speak, he could move or think or breath or talk. All he could do was stare ahead of him and feel the tears running down his face as Romulus pulled him closer, as he felt Romulus' breath on his neck.

"You're breaking my heart again princess, I thought you loved me," Romulus whispered, he didnt sound upset.

"Let's get home, you obviously havent taken your meds," and Romulus was pulling him away from the library. It took several steps and almost reaching the door for Virgil to find his voice.

"How dare you touch me. How dare you try to act as though you missed anything more than a pretty little toy you can mock and stare at to make yourself feel better." That got the libraries attention, and, to Virgil's satisfaction, a frightened expression on Romulus' face. But something in his gut told him he hadnt been the only one speaking those words.

Soon enough Janus and Patton had emerged from their corners of the library, Patton almost toppling from the amount of books he was carrying, and Janus yet again brandishing his cane as though it were a great sword.

"I believe I told you that you werent to approach Virgil again. Was I not clear enough the first time." Janus snarled as he pulled Romulus back by the shirt.

"How many times must I tell you you have no right to keep me from my husband." Romulus snarled back.

"I am no spouse of yours." Virgil said, before storming out of the library.

He wasnt really sure where he was going, only that he was angry and tired of hiding.

And lucky for him, his affinity for shiny objects had managed to lead him to a different kind of bookshop, and a book with eight different colored gems built into the front.

"How much for this?" Virgil said, pointing to the book.

The girl behind the counter turned to look at him, white hair falling over her face.

"$250 and a free visit from the excorcist," she said, eyes slightly wide despite the vague expression of apathy.

Virgil stared for a moment before finally handing over the money. He took the book out of its case, bid the cashier goodbye, and walked away.

Now his only problem was finding a decent place to read.

"Virgil! What are you doing out here!" Virgil heard a call from none other than Remus.

"Reading-" Virgil said, he wasnt necessarily lying in that case.

"Jan! Pat! I found him!" Remus called inside before motioning for Virgil to follow. So Virgil did, and sat between Logan and Patton on the couch.

"What'd you find?" Said Janus, motioning to the book Virgil had placed on the table.

"Call Em and Remy, I think I just found our solution," Virgil said.

"Pat- you have the necklaces right?" He continued. Patton noddes and placed each on the table.

Soon enough they were joined by Emile and Remy, and they could begin to dissect the book itself.

"The Order of Terra, an elite squad originally compromised of six members, later joined by the Prince and Princess of Eirthanas, and disbanded when the Prince betrayed them all for power," Virgil started, tracing over the photo accompanying the description, though he couldnt quite make out the details.

"The leader of the order was Lord Larion Terraval, who's last name gifted the order its official title, Larion took up the unicorn necklace, which gave control of the stars, and the ability to communicate across any barrier," Virgil continued, the rest of the group gave a quick glance in Logan's direction. Which was expected, given the striking resemblance between the two, from deep blue eyes to the slight quirk of their eyebrows, it was almost as if they were twins.

"The second to join was the sister of the Prince, Duchess Remona Octavia, who took up the octopus necklace, granting control of the oceans and all their creatures," the girl shown in this picture had the same red-eyed manic expression as Remus, and even a streak of white through her hair, the only thing missing seemed to be the mustache.

"The third was a local mage, Remington Insolia, who took up the fox necklace, which granted control over sleep and disease," this man was identical to Remy in everything except the gray and white robes.

"The fourth was Jamillan Serpentes, who took up the snake necklace, and gained the abilities of hypnosis," this description was attached to a photo of a gaunt man, who looked much to stuffy to be Janus, but bared an all to familiar resemblance.

"The fifth was Emalei Primrose, a faun who took up the necklace of the deer, and gained the ability to cause mania, as well as psychic capabilities," the faun in the photo had the same pink and white heterochromia as Emile, the same broad smile, and the same curly brown and pink hair, albeit much longer.

"The sixth was Pamela Adbentes, who took up the frog necklace, and a variety of healing abilities," this was connected to a picture of a woman who looked as though she'd quite like to reach through the paper and pinch Virgil's cheek while asking if he wanted homemade cookies, which told him all he needed to know about her similarities to Patton.

Virgil felt his breath hitch as his eyes trailed over the next two entries.

"The Prince, Romulus, was meant to be the last to join, and had attempted to take up the spider necklace, only to be denied, and gifted the wolf necklace, as well as a vast knowledge of potions, poisons, and flattery," Virgil's hand went to his throat, he felt tears in his eyes as they ran over the all to familiar, all be it much less muscular, and much less huggable frame of the real Romulus.

"The final member of the Order of Terra was the most unwilling, Princess Viviana, the true bearer of the spider necklace, enforcer of nightmares, controller of the afterlife, she disappeared mere weeks before the Order of Terra was disbanded," and there she was. The lilac eyes, the long black hair. Nearly identical to the form Virgil had long since left behind.

Virgil had gotten the book to find answers, but now, now all he had was questions.

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

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[goodlucktai]

it’s a better place since you came along

the adventure zone taako & angus mcdonald 7k words

read on ao3

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

***

In which Taako answers a general “help wanted” ad that actually changes his entire stupid life.

x

There’s a baby crying somewhere.

Taako, left waiting in the foyer by a harried maid, has nothing else to do but tap a foot, twist one of the rings on one of his fingers, and count the long seconds that the plaintive wail continues to echo through the cavernous house.

Listen, he may not be a very good dude, just in general, and for a healthy plethora of reasons—but there’s a prickling sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, as one minute passes into two, and the sounds of distress go unheeded.

What in the fresh fuck, he thinks, when another member of the house staff drifts through the room without any sense of urgency. If he knew shit about magic beyond a few travel-handy tricks and the occasional intuitive transmutation, he’d assume this was some sort of elaborate illusion. Maybe a sort of test played on unsuspecting hopefuls who came to answer the help-wanted ad.

Unfortunately for Taako, he remembers all-too well what it feels like to be an unwanted child, outcast and always alone. As it turns out, he has a very particular Achilles’ heel and he’s not overly thrilled to discover it.

“Well, I didn’t need the job that bad,” he tells himself, as he gets up to single-mindedly fail this stupid test. And nevermind that he kind of really did.

‘Confidence is key’ and ‘fake it till you make it’ are two mantras that Taako could live and die by, so it’s with long, unchecked strides that he crosses the grand foyer and chases the miserable cries up some stairs, down a long corridor, and finally into an out-of-the-way bedchamber at what must have been the back of the house.

The cries stutter when the door clicks open, and Taako gets a glimpse of a tiny round face peering at him through the bars of an ancient-looking crib. The sudden appearance of this strange elf in his nursery seems to have surprised the little human, but not for long. After about two seconds, he screws his face up and screams with renewed vindication.

Taako winces, his sensitive ears twitching back at the onslaught. This is way above his paygrade, but he used to babysit younger kids in the caravans while their parents were busy or drunk, in exchange for a hot meal or a few coins. He’s not totally out of his depth here.

“Hey, little man,” he says by way of hello. “Trying to bring the roof down, huh? No, I dig that. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but this house of yours is ugly as hell.”

Taako doesn’t raise his voice, because what the hell would be the point? There’s no way he’s winning that contest of wills, and nobody wants some lunatic shouting at them when they’re this fucking distraught, anyway. He just crosses his arms on the side of the crib and leans down to get a good look at the kid.

The baby’s face is tacky and snotty, dusky skin flushed darker with exertion, curly hair a tangled mop. But he’s a cute little guy despite himself, probably a year old or thereabouts, not that Taako is in any way a decent judge of that sort of thing. As Taako talks to him in a conversational tone, his awful, heaving sobs peter out.

The tearful gulps are better. The way he lifts pudgy arms up to be held, not so much.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taako says, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I’m not even supposed to be in here. You have no idea how culturally insensitive people are when it comes to elves and babies. Your mama walks in and sees me holding you, and then she’s calling the guard, and I’m getting hauled off for attempting to spirit her little heir away, and we both perpetuate an archaic myth that all elves are equally capable of and greedy for voluntary childcare. Let me just say—from personal experience—that is not the fuckin' case.”

But he reaches a hand into the crib and lets the little human clutch at it. Tiny, clumsy fingers wrap around Taako’s much bigger ones and hold tight. The baby’s eyes are wide and curious now, soaking up Taako’s every word without a damn clue what any of them mean.

Taako almost forgot he knew how to do this. It’s been months since Glamour Springs, since Sazed ditched him on the road. Taako’s been living a half-life, made up of odd jobs and never staying for too long in any one place, and for all that it’s absurdly one-sided, this is the longest conversation he’s had since then, too.

“One of us is pretty fucking pathetic,” he confides. “And it’s not the screamy baby.”

“Ah, this is where you’ve gone,” a voice from the doorway says.

Taako jumps in alarm, and looks around in time to watch a man step into the nursery. He bears a striking resemblance to the baby in the crib, though he’s graying at the temples and his face is lined with too much age for him to be an immediate parent. Grandparent, probably. Distinguished, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than the entire cumulative worth of everything Taako currently owns, leaning heavily on a walking cane.

He doesn’t look as though he’s about to ring the alarm, but Taako is still a little keyed up. Given the way he’s been living, the feeling of getting caught, even for a moment, activates his fight or flight response.

“Sorry,” Taako says lamely. “I heard him crying.”

“I don’t doubt it. His parents, my daughter and her husband, died recently. An accident on the road,” the man says. There’s some sorrow there, but it’s pushed back and away. Compartmentalized. “He came to live with me, but the transition hasn’t been an easy one. It seems as though all he’s done is cry.”

Taako doesn’t melt even slightly for the poor kid, because he’s made of sterner stuff than that. But he does let him hold onto his hand for a little while longer. It’s not hurting anything.

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

It wasn’t a nanny ad. It was just a ‘general help wanted in exchange for room and board’ type of deal. He wouldn’t have shown up to take the job in the first place if it had specified providing 1) cooking, 2) companionship, or 3) childcare, and that’s for damn sure. He believes in playing to his strengths, and while vapid charm is certainly one of them, being personable and likable for any extended period of time is not.

And Taako absolutely doesn’t know what to think of this old rich guy who seems to be operating under the illusion that thirty seconds is plenty of time to get enough of a read on some rando to then trust your child to them. For real, and from the bottom of Taako's heart, what the fuck?

He’s only been acquainted with this particular child for about five minutes, but his ears go back and his hackles go up at the idea of someone just walking in off the street to take charge of him.

Maybe there’s some crucial insanity element to parenthood that Taako just isn’t fucking picking up. Maybe total and complete willingness to just ditch your kid at a moment’s notice is part of the package. Sure would explain a few things about Taako’s childhood.

But… this old manor house is clearly in the middle of nowhere. Two hours from the nearest settlement, where the job posting was hiding beneath other flyers on the board in the square. Taako wandered the woods all afternoon and almost gave up finding the place before the chimney smoke tipped him off.

It’s remote. Safe. And, at a glance, more comfortable than any of the inns and caravans Taako has lived out of since his auntie died.

He’s not qualified for this position, but since when has that ever stopped him? It’s not like he went to culinary school, either, and for awhile he was one of the most famous chefs on the continent. A baby can't be that much work.

Fake it till you make it, he thinks, and then faces the old man with a smile.

“Hell, I’m already here. Might as well start now.”

#

Aside from Taako, there are three other members of staff on the books, and none of them are full-time. The maids come in every other day to do the cleaning and the laundry and bring in groceries, that sort of thing. The groundskeeper only works the weekends.

They like Mr McDonald well enough, the girls confide in Taako over tea on his first night there, and the pay isn’t bad, but he’s forgetful. Doesn’t think to eat until he feels hunger pains, that sort of thing. Don’t be surprised if you get paid twice some weeks, or not at all others.

“He’s just not interested in running a household, I think,” the older of the two imparts, ancient at seventeen for all the weariness in her eyes. “I’m glad he finally found someone to take care of the baby. I felt bad about him crying all the time.”

Baby Angus had seemed to surprise both teens by being agreeable and downright adorable, perfectly content to be tucked into the crook of Taako’s arm and soothed to sleep by the rumble of his voice.

Did any of you try, like, holding him? Taako wants to ask acidly. Seems a little fucked up that Taako, of all people, is more on top of this than anyone else. But the maids are little more than kids themselves, and it seems as though grandpa isn’t completely with it.

About a month after Taako first wandered in, grandpa proves it.

“It was before Angus was born,” Mr McDonald says, digging through the many drawers in his study, looking for some expensive rich person thing he’d acquired at auction four years ago. There’s an empty crystal tumbler sitting on the liquor cabinet, next to a half-empty decanter of whiskey. “We went to Goldcliff for a charity fundraiser. Marquis proposed to my daughter that night. You remember, Taako?”

Taako, halfheartedly poking through stuff on the desk while Angus chews on the end of his braid, replies, “Sure do, homie. Hell of a party.”

He finds a photo in a stack of letters and pauses. Two humans are pictured with their arms around each other, handsome smiles on their faces for the camera, a baby cradled tenderly between them.

At the bottom, in looping handwriting, someone wrote ‘Marquis, Angela, and Angus.’ There’s a little heart drawn under the names with such care that it, in itself, is something of a revelation.

Angus’ parents wouldn’t have let him cry himself sick in a faraway room. They wouldn’t have let some stranger be holding him now. They abandoned him, but not on purpose. Not the same way Taako’s family did.

This kid was loved. He’s due love. And all he has is an absent grandpa and a shitty elf looking after him.

“Check it out, Ango,” Taako says quietly, holding the photo up so the baby can see, carefully out of reach of those sticky fingers. “Your genes are killer. You’re gonna outshine the whole damn world.”

He pockets the photo with a sleight of hand he perfected at ten years old, and then guts some ugly painting in the service hallway in the name of repurposing the frame, and then he and Angus stage a tactical retreat.

The nursery was too depressing, just in general, so one of Taako’s first acts as nanny was to move all the baby stuff in with his. He had his pick of any of the second floor bedchambers, and he chose one overlooking the overgrown gardens, with a pretty bay window that it only took like two hours and a handful of stubborn Prestidigitations to scrub clean.

He enlarges the photo, slides it into the frame, transmutes it to look like a more professional job, and then sets it in place of pride on one of the empty shelves.

“Gang’s all here,” he says. He bounces Angus a few times, eliciting a toothy smile from the kid.

Lordy, Taako thinks, she’d be laughing her ass off if she could see me right now.

The thought comes out of absolutely nowhere and disappears just as quickly, sliding right out of his mind like water through a sieve. Then Angus makes a sudden dive to grab one of the charms hanging off the brim of Taako’s hat, and he has more immediate things to worry about.  

#

Living in a house is weird. Having the run of the place is even weirder.

Taako is certainly not the type to sign up for extra responsibility, and he’d be the first to say as much to literally anyone who asked. Keeping himself alive has always been trouble enough, and now he has a whole ass extra person he’s in charge of, too.

But as time drags on, he realizes he’s been pretty solidly assimilated.

When McDonald forgets to give Catherine the grocery allowance before he fucks off on one of his bi-monthly business trips to Neverwinter, Taako forks over his own gold without feeling the sting of it too badly. He practically writes his own checks around here, anyway. He can make up the difference whenever.

When crotchety old Boniface came in from the gardens looking for an answer about the freshly broken fountain, he bypasses McDonald’s closed office door entirely to demand guidance out of Taako instead. Taako is in the library, laying on his stomach to supervise Angus’ painstaking and artistic destruction of a probably priceless but unfortunately racist oral history Taako found on one of the shelves, and gives Boniface the go-ahead to gut the old eyesore.

“If it dies, it dies,” Taako says plainly, passing Angus a new red crayon. Boniface, pleased that he’s allowed to demolish something, makes it a point to ask Taako about these things first from then on.

When Ezra shows up in Taako’s suite one morning with tearful eyes and an ugly burn from the temperamental furnace in the basement, neither of them stop to question why she ran all the way up here. They’re both reasonably intelligent people, after all, and Taako is quick to cast a nonverbal Helping Hand. He doesn’t need to overthink it. The burned skin on Ezra’s arm is shiny and red, but repaired.

The girl surges forward to hug him, visibly rethinks it, and then changes course and scoops Angus up for a hug and a noisy kiss on the cheek instead. Angus shrieks in bald delight, and Taako finds himself smiling.

So, yeah. It’s weird, the whole thing is weird, but he wouldn’t say it’s bad.

McDonald is a kind but largely absent presence in their lives. When he’s home, he’s shut up in his study. Angus hardly seems to recognize the man anymore, only watching him with solemn brown eyes from the comforting circle of Taako’s arms. It doesn’t really sit well with Taako—he didn’t take this job to upstage any relatives or be a replacement parent—but he’s already nanny to a precocious two-year-old, he can’t also be nanny to a seventy-something-year-old retired scholar. If McDonald wants to be a part of Angus’ life, that’s on him. It can’t possibly fall on Taako’s shoulders.

“And even if it did, I have a bad back,” Taako informs Angus. “You’ll have to do the heavy-lifting for me, sweetpea. How’s that sound?���

“Okay, Taako,” Angus says gravely. If there’s a tiny part of Taako that’s fucking delighted every time this tiny miracle says his name, he squashes it down good and hard and no one is the wiser.

It feels a little bit like nothing exists outside this spacious manor house. The extensive grounds might as well be a magic barrier between Taako and the rest of the world. It won’t last—nothing good ever does—but for now he allows himself to pretend that it will.

#

Taako and his little shadow swing into the kitchen around noon one day to find Catherine in tears.

This is so far from the norm that Taako actually draws up short in the doorway. Angus toddles right into the back of his leg, loses his balance, and plops down hard on his padded bottom.

“What’s this all about, darling?” Taako asks warily.

Catherine is sharp in all the places Ezra is soft, and while it makes her much easier to understand—a girl after Taako’s own black, shriveled heart—it also makes her approximately one million times more difficult to comfort, as likely to bite at a helping hand as accept one.

At the first sign of her vicious temper, he’s gonna grab his kid and bail. There’s fruit and bread in the larder that’ll see them through to dinner, and if not, he's not above bribing Ezra to run interference.

But Catherine just lifts her head out of her hands and says, “I burnt the stupid soup!”

Taako blinks. He stands still so Angus can use one of his legs as leverage to pull himself back upright, and cups the back of the boy's head in silent praise when he manages it on his own.

“Okay,” Taako says slowly. He can piece this shit together. “The soup is burnt. And you’re cheesed about it because…you feel really strongly about soup.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps, but it’s without any real heat. “I just. I can’t get anything right today.”

Ah. Okay. So it’s one of those.

He hesitates for a moment, and then leans down to scoop Angus up and balances him on a hip. Angus knows not to toddle into the kitchen unsupervised, and rarely gets to toddle in at all when there’s cookery going on.

Taako himself rarely goes in. It feels too much like tempting fate. But his feet carry him forward, and he leans over the pot of thick and creamy chicken and dumplings, and right away he can smell the problem. It caught on the bottom of the pot and scorched.

He’s never worked in this kitchen—and he never will—but he remembers the steps. It’s mise en place. He reaches into the spice cabinet and withdraws a small tin shaker.

“Cinnamon,” he says at length, offering the tin to Catherine.

She stares at him, losing some of her steel for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Taako says, and firmly steps back. The six-second exchange has left him feeling tense and sick, his appetite fully and completely fucking out of the picture.

Angus is a perceptive little monster, and settles more heavily into Taako’s arms. He heaves a very pointed sigh, something he started doing to communicate that he’s feeling particularly safe and content. It makes Taako’s chest hurt in a much different way than impending panic attacks tend to, and he presses a kiss to the kid’s curly head.

“Thanks, angel,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Holy shit, Taako,” Catherine says, looking up from the soup with awe in her eyes. As he watches, she tries another spoonful, and then she actually laughs out loud. “It worked!”

He finds himself searching her face for—sickness. Shortness of breath. Something.

It’s stupid. The people he killed in Glamour Springs didn’t show signs of death for days.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Catherine goes on. “Could you teach me?”

“I don’t,” Taako blurts. It comes out sharper than he meant for it to, sudden and a little bit too loud. Catherine’s smile tapers. Angus lifts his head off Taako’s shoulder. Breathe, idiot, Taako tells himself. Be a fucking person for two seconds. “Cook, I mean. I don’t cook. Or, uh, teach. I’m kind of useless. Pretty, though.”

He flips his hair. It makes Angus giggle, but Catherine isn’t an easily-amused toddler, and she’s not buying it.

Her eyes are sharp, and seem to peel through layers of Taako’s bullshit like a knife. And then she scoffs, and mimics his hair flip with her wrist even though her hair is only about two inches long, and the tension drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug in the floor.

“You’ve been teaching Mango to read,” she says dryly. “And Elvish. And magic. But okay, Mr I Don’t Teach.”

“He’s my fucking protege. That shit’s different!”

“Shit!” Angus agrees cheerfully.

“Whatever. Now that I know you’re secretly a fountain of knowledge, I’m dragging you in here the next time I fuck up a recipe.” She studies him for a moment, and adds, “You don’t have to cook, Teach. If it bothers you. I just…I need help sometimes.

Taako feels himself relenting. This house is turning him into a fucking pushover.

“I know, Cat,” he sighs. “Try to find one person who doesn’t.”

#

“Alright, little man,” Taako says, tugging Angus’ collar straight. “What are the rules?”

“Hold your hand, don’t talk to strangers, aim for the eyes if I can reach them, knees if I can’t,” his boy recites gravely.

Next to him, Ezra stifles a snort of laughter. Boniface, waiting by the loaded carriage, looks reluctantly amused. Catherine says, “Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give you a kid?”

“Uh, your boss,” Taako says without looking at her. He stands up from his crouch as the front door closes, and they all turn as McDonald comes down the steps to join them in the crumbly courtyard.

“Are we ready, boys?” he asks with a smile. “Neverwinter is waiting.”

Honestly, Taako has been sick with dread over this trip for the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t know how to go about explaining that. And he sure as hell isn’t sending Angus off alone with his absent-minded grandfather. The kid probably wouldn’t make it home.

It’s not as though Taako has been sequestered in the manor house for the last five years. He’s ambled into the settlement with the girls now and then, has gone farther up the road to buy from caravans for Candlenights gifts, has let himself be bullied, cajoled, blackmailed and bribed into helping Boniface lug imported plants home from the train station.

But this is fucking Neverwinter. The Jewel of the North.

“Taako? You okay?” Angus says from somewhere near his elbow.

“Just dreading three hours on the road playing I, Spy with you, boychik,” he lies smoothly. “Go pet the horses so we can get that out of the way.”

Angus looks mulish for a moment, but he does insist on petting the carthorses before they take the carriage literally anywhere, so he lifts his head and crosses the courtyard with great dignity. Taako watches sharply until Boniface rolls his eyes so hard Taako can practically hear it and hefts Agnus up in one huge arm to better reach the giant creatures without running the risk of getting fucking trampled.

“I’m making the salmon at home tonight,” Catherine says abruptly, a non-sequitur that takes Taako by surprise. “If I don’t fuck it up, I’m gonna cook it here, too. So don’t be late, Teach.”

“I’ll a hundred percent eat your share if you’re late,” Ezra adds. Her smile looks a little strained.

Taako has not been subtle. He’s been freaking out right out loud where anybody could see it. Get it together, asshole, he coaches himself helpfully.

“Cat,” he says earnestly, “your salmon is literally the only thing I have to live for.”

She groans and pushes him away from her. Angus has finished with the horses and returns to Taako at a run, even though they’re all going to be walking back across the courtyard to the carriage in like one minute anyway. 

McDonald is handing out a few last minute instructions. They’re mostly things that have already been taken care of, errands that have already been run, the ushe. The girls nod along politely, but there’s a level of uncertainty lingering above them like a cloud. They look as nervous about Taako leaving as Taako feels.

Now, Taako is many things—an elf, a failed chef, a murderer, a dime-store wizard, and one lucky nanny—but he is not some mercurial fairy tale creature. He’s not going to vanish from their lives the second they lose sight of him. He could if he wanted to, and he will if he has to, but he doesn’t want to. For now, he doesn’t have to.

So he lifts a hand and says, “Back soon.”

But for some reason, it fucking hurts.

#

The trip is about everything he expected it would be: long and boring. Angus gets bored with I, Spy within about ten minutes, the interior of the carriage is a little too tight to practice his cantrips, and Boniface seems to be aiming for the roughest parts of the road on purpose. Taako tries reading aloud from one of the Caleb Cleveland books, but McDonald keeps interrupting every time they get to the good, mysterious parts, so Angus and Taako trade a loaded glance and wordlessly agree to save it for later.

Still, it’s not awful. Angus at six years old is bright-eyed and relentlessly clever. He wants to be a detective like Caleb, and has taken to solving little mysteries around the manor house, like who left the jam out on the counter (Taako, and what are you going to do about it, pumpkin?) and who tracked the mud inside the undercroft (Boniface, obviously, that’s where all the booze is, and he literally works in mud all day. You didn’t have to put on your detective cap for that one).

Needless to say, Taako would burn the whole world down for this kid.  

With no choice but to spend time in his grandson’s company, Taako can see Angus’ innate charm going to work on McDonald. There’s something wistful in the old man’s eyes, affectionate and more than a little bittersweet. He stops interrupting as Angus starts to describe his latest case in great detail—the mystery of the missing tarts!

The tarts are wrapped up and waiting in Taako’s bag for when they inevitably get snacky during the trip, but he's not going to tell. He kinda wants to see how far the kid takes this one.

By the time they board the train, Angus is tuckered out. The excitement of a trip so far from home is wearing off after hours in a carriage, and Taako ends up carrying him into their sleeper car and putting him to bed in one of the bunks.

McDonald takes a seat at the small table and watches without commentary as Taako extracts the boy’s hat and glasses and wand without waking him, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. And then, out of habit more than anything else, he murmurs the only Elven blessing he remembers, quite literally ‘sweet dreams.’ He remembers Auntie saying it to him, and…someone else, maybe? He remembers that it always made him feel loved to hear it.

“Hiring you was the best thing I could have done for him,” McDonald says suddenly.

Taako turns with a trademark smile on his face, only as charming as it needs to be. “Hiring me was the best thing you ever did, period.”

His boss smiles back, but there’s an edge to it that Taako can’t translate. This is the most present and aware he’s looked in the last five years. Taako isn’t sure he’s ever had this much of McDonald’s attention.

“There’s another reason I wanted to take the two of you with me this week,” he says. 

It’s ominous as fuck, and as the train lurches into motion, pulling away from the station, Taako realizes that he’s effectively trapped here, in a way he never was at the manor house. Some of his thoughts must show on his face, because McDonald’s smile warms a bit, and he gestures at the other chair. 

“It’s a good thing, son. No need to be nervous.”

Taako sits in an irreverent collapsing of limbs to prove that he isn’t nervous, actually. McDonald pulls a bunch of papers out of his briefcase and sets them on the table. They look official as fuck. McDonald’s signature at the bottom draws Taako’s eye—huh, so that’s his first name. After this long, it would have felt a little awkward to ask. Beneath that is the signature and seal of a notary.

“What am I looking at here, Charlie?”

McDonald’s lips twitch. He probably cottoned onto the name thing. 

“Well, this isn’t an easy conversation to have, and I probably could have picked a better time for it, but.” He glances over Taako’s shoulder at where Angus is sleeping. “It’s probably better if the boy doesn’t overhear until it’s sorted.”

“I hear ya. That little bugbear is all up in everyone’s business all the time,” Taako says proudly. “Just the worst.”

“He’s amazing,” McDonald says. That sorrow swims into his eyes now, an ancient, ruinous thing. “He reminds me of my daughter every time I look at him.” Oh. “It’s been…hard to look at him sometimes.” Oh.

Taako carefully reevaluates his opinion of Angus’ absent grandfather. Not too much, because the dude still should have been around, but, you know. Some.

Taako tries to imagine losing somebody, how much it must hurt. He tries to imagine looking like somebody, a family resemblance, a belonging at face-value. He’s never experienced either, but there’s still a bitter pit in his throat, a feeling like if he swallows too hard he’ll start to cry. So he sits very still instead.

“But still, he’s my only grandson, and I want him to be taken care of when I’m gone,” the man goes on. “I’m getting on in years, and I probably don’t have much longer left—oh, Taako. It’s alright.”

Taako is certain he didn’t move. He’s still doing the sitting-very-still thing. Then he realizes his ears betrayed him, pressed back flat against his head. Goddamn things.

“No, it’s uh. Taako’s good, don’t. Just.”

It’s the human age thing. He doesn’t want to think about it. He waves McDonald on, a tight rolling gesture. They really need to power through the rest of this conversation while Taako still has enough self-control left to not do something really embarrassing in front of his boss, like have a whole emotion.

McDonald takes pity. Thank fuck.

“It’s normal to want to get your ducks in a row,” he says. “I’m not planning on kicking the bucket any time soon.”

“Alright, let’s organize these ducks,” Taako says with unwarranted enthusiasm. He’s trying to trick himself into it. “Fucking ducks, am I right?”

“Angus is my heir. When he’s of age, he’ll get the estate and everything that goes with it, as well as his parents’ properties,” McDonald says, once again reminding Taako that he’s a rich old fuck. Istus. “But that’s still more than a decade away. If something should happen to me, I don’t want him to end up a ward of the state.”

Taako blinks. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he has become one of those elves that would one-thousand-percent kidnap a human baby if it came down to it. Leave Agnes in an orphanage? His Agnes? It would literally have never occurred to him.

“Custody cases can be so long-winded. The easiest way to circumvent the whole mess would be to adopt you into the family,” McDonald says, super nonchalant about flipping the world upside down. “That way Angus has an immediate next of kin that no one would question.”

He looks up when Taako doesn’t say anything and frowns at whatever Taako’s face must look like.

“You don’t have to use the surname if you don’t want to. It’s mostly just for the sake of paperwork.”

“I can’t,” Taako blurts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t insist that you change your family name if it’s important to you—”

“Not—not that, who gives a fuck about my family name,” Taako says too loudly. Angus shifts around for a second, like he might wake up, and Taako snaps his mouth closed so hard it hurts his teeth. In a whisper, because it’s all he can manage without giving into the urge to scream, Taako forces out, “I—I’m—I can’t.”

In the nightmare scenarios that still sometimes plague him in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep and he’s alone with the voice in his brain that fucking hates him, the choices always boiled down to either leaving Angus behind or taking him on the run. Both choices were fucking awful for a myriad of different reasons, and left Taako pacing his room tirelessly trying to think his way out of an unsolvable problem.

The idea that he could become a legal part of Angus’ family as simply as signing a piece of paper is so far-fetched and ridiculous that he can’t wrap his mind around it.

But bringing all his shit into Angus’ life? Signing up for this only to get snatched away the second the paperwork goes through and the militia finally finds him? Leaving his dirty laundry all over the front yard like the worst fucking house guest imaginable, and then peacing out to spend the rest of his long-ass fucking elf life in jail, while Angus was left to just…deal with that?

He couldn’t. He can’t. Every single option is bad. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have known he would fall in love with that baby on day one. It’s really fucking stupid that he stayed.

“—aako. Taako.”

Taako jerks his head up. His ears are twitching and his hands are shaking and McDonald has probably been saying his name for awhile.

The man’s eyes are bright and steely. They look exactly like Angus’ do sometimes, when he wakes Taako up from a miserable meditation, when it’s just the two of them in a huge house surrounded by a crumbling garden.

“Tell me,” the man says sternly.

At a fucking complete loss, Taako just…does.

When he’s finished, McDonald looks at him really hard for what feels like a long time. Then he pulls a pair of reading glasses out of an inner pocket of his coat, poises the business end of a fountain pen against a fresh sheet of paper, and starts asking questions.

It’s a business-like, no-nonsense exchange. Taako is wiped out, emotionally he is the equivalent of a damp rag wrung out to dry, and he has no wherewithal left to lie or deny or deflect.

When they’re done, McDonald has filled three notebook pages of blocky handwriting, and Taako is swaying in his seat. He watches somewhat vacantly as McDonald nods to himself and rummages in his briefcase for a stone of farspeech.

“We won’t reach Neverwinter until morning. Get some sleep,” he says, and his voice is kindly again, the way it was before. Taako stares at him. “And don’t tell me elves don’t need it, please. I wasn’t born yesterday, and you nap twice as much as my grandson ever did.”

Well, it would be nice to get one last unnecessary snooze in as a free man, Taako supposes, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb into Angus’ bunk. It’s a familiar ritual. The kid squirms to accommodate him without fully waking. Taako tucks an arm around him and buries his nose in that riot of curly hair.

He hears McDonald say, “You’re not much more than a kid yourself, are you?” but that might have just been part of a dream.

He hears someone else say, “That can’t be broken or lost or taken away, it’s always going to be so important,” but Taako thinks that, whoever that was, they were very clearly wrong.

#

Taako wakes up to a six-year-old’s warm brown eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners in an urchin sort of way, and it’s the only tell Taako needs. His kid has been up to some mischief.  

“Grandpa said you were tired and I should let you sleep,” Angus reports cheerfully. “He also said that there was a nice lady selling flowers a few cars down, and I ought to go buy a few!”

Ah. Taako glances down at the ruin of his hair. It looks like about a hundred snowberry blossoms were worked into the thick flaxen braid. It’s going to be an absolute pain to brush out later. He’ll probably find bits of plant in his hair for days. He loves it.

He risks a glance in McDonald’s direction.

The man looks amused by their whole general existence, which is fair. He also doesn't look like he's about to summon the guard to have Taako hauled into the brig, which is a fucking relief and a half.

“The world changed while you were asleep,” he says significantly. “Would you like to sign the papers now or with your pardon?”

Angus says, all in one breath, “You should sign the papers first! Grandpa says then you’ll be my family! I mean, you already are, so I’m not sure what the point is, but it must be important. Look at how official they are!”

Taako feels about four cups of coffee behind this conversation. He scoots off the bed, spilling into one of the chairs at the table, and folds his hands.

“Charlie. Buddy.”

“I stepped out for two minutes,” McDonald says defensively, “and I thought he was asleep!”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Taako mutters. His heart is doing something really complicated and largely unnecessary, fucking backflipping in his chest, at Angus’ thoughtless ‘you already are.’ Like it was a given. What the fuck. “Can you go back to, uh—the world changing? A pardon? What’s up with that?”  

“An old friend of mine is a cleric,” he says pushing a steaming cup in Taako’s direction. “Level nine, or thereabouts. She owed me a favor from when we were in school together, when I—well, that’s not important. What is important is that she was happy to cast Discern Location to find your old stage manager.”

Taako fumbles the cup, almost drops it. He sets it down hard.

“What the fuck? No, hold that thought. Angus, I love you. Get lost.”

He’s really banking on the kid being more stir-crazy than curious, and sure enough, Angus hops right off the bunk and sprints for the door.

“Okay, I’ll be in the dining car! You’re not s’posed to take food back with you, but I’m gonna see how many pastries I can fit in my pockets so you won’t be hungry when you sign the papers that make you my family! Love you, bye!”

“A three-hour carriage ride followed by six hours on a train was the worst fucking idea,” Taako says severely. “He’s gonna be on eleven when we roll up to Neverwinter. They might not let us in.”

“He’s just excited,” the old man says, with the tranquility of someone who isn’t going to have to child-wrangle all day long. “I told him I had good news for you.”

Taako is fidgeting, turning the cup of coffee around and around in his hands. It’s leaving a ring of condensation on the table.

“You found Sazed?” he asks, and hates how small his voice sounds.

“We did.”

“He probably hates me,” Taako mutters. “I ruined his life.”

McDonald takes the cup from him and sets it down on the other side of the table with a firm clunk. 

“Pardon my language, but you didn’t ruin crud.” Taako mouths ‘crud’ in bewilderment, but McDonald isn’t finished. “I was suspicious of your story when you described the way those people died. Those aren’t the typical symptoms of deadly nightshade, and I’d never heard of a transmutation spell failing in that way before. So I looked into it. Or, I should say, I had a few friends look into it.”

“Are you in a cult?” Taako asks. He can’t help it. He’s one part genuinely curious and two parts hardwired to deflect any time someone tricks him into having a serious conversation. “We frown on cults in this family. Mysterious shadow organizations are never a good thing, no matter what greater-good shit they’re peddling.”

“I’m very rich and belong to very elite social circles,” McDonald says dryly. He’s unmoved by Taako’s general everything. “This whole thing took about three calls. I wish you would have told me about this five years ago, but I do understand why you didn’t.”

Taako doesn’t have a cup to fuck around with anymore. He stopped wearing jewelry when Angus was a baby and literally everything smaller than an apple was a choking hazard, and he never really got into the habit of it again, so he doesn’t have rings to twist around his fingers, either. He wrings his hands instead.

“If it wasn’t the elderberries,” he chokes out, and doesn’t make it any farther.

“It was arsenic,” McDonald says. His voice is kind again, but not so much so that it’s painful to hear. “Sazed was questioned within a Zone of Truth. He admitted to—okay,” he cuts himself off, putting a hand on Taako’s shoulder. “We’re done talking about it for now. Just take it easy.”

Taako doesn’t uncurl from his chair until the door rattles open and Angus’ voice fills the room. He’s found a dozen things to talk about in the ten minutes he’s been gone, and is very proud of himself for all the contraband pastries he managed to make off with. There’s a cheese danish wrapped very carefully in a napkin, only slightly squished, that he presents to Taako with a showy flourish that he really only could have picked up from too much time around one particular idiot.

Taako accepts the danish, and then hauls Angus up onto his lap, and then says, “Charlie, baby. Pass me that fancy pen.”

#

For the first time in almost eight years, Taako is cooking for an audience again. His hands are shaking, but as long as everyone else is politely pretending like they don’t notice, he can do himself the same favor.

I fed those people their death, but it wasn’t on me, he recites inwardly for the seven millionth time, a nervous mantra. My magic was good. My cooking was good. I was good. It wasn’t on me.

He looks up from the counter where all his tools are laid out and his ingredients are arranged. Ezra is bouncing in her seat, Boniface is lingering in the doorway like he doesn’t care but he also isn’t leaving, and Catherine’s eyes are wide and moonlike and younger than Taako has ever seen them. Angus has place of pride, a seat on the counter by the sink with the best view in the house.

“Okay,” he says. “What are the rules, pumpkin?”

“No swiping ingredients, no magic in the kitchen, and no taste-testing until you say it’s okay,” Angus rattles off promptly. “Autographs at the end of the show are three gold apiece, photos are ten, and the overall experience is absolutely priceless.”

Over the sweet sound of the rest of his audience groaning at him, Taako goes on blithely, “And what are we cooking today?”

“Macarons!”

“And who’s your dude?” Taako asks, pointing a whisk at him. Angus giggles, and Taako’s hands aren’t shaking anymore.

In a month, Angus is going off to a summer camp out past Rockport. It’s Caleb Cleveland-themed, and the whole thing sounds extremely nerdy and book-cluby, and Angus is desperately excited. He’s also desperately nervous about being away from his family for three whole weeks but he’s trying to keep that on the down-low. He’s very grown up at nearly ten years old.

Taako can respect that. He also bought the kid a stone of farspeech, because actually fuck that.

And while Angus is off having his first away-from-home adventure—since the girls think that Taako’s just going to be useless and mopey the whole time, and Boniface already threatened to bury him in a flowerbed the first time he whines about literally anything—Taako is going to go do something cool, too. There’s always some interesting jobs posted on Craig's List up in Neverwinter. He’ll be able to find something to occupy his time.  

But for now, he’s gonna make some goddamn desserts.

“Come on, Ango,” Taako wheedles, “who’s your dude?”

“You, papa.”

I’m good, Taako reminds himself. He looks at his kid, who only deserves the best this piece of shit world has to offer, and thinks, I can be good.

[carewyncromwell]

“When the cold of winter comes, Starless night will cover day... In the veiling of the sun, We will walk in bitter rain. But in dreams, (But in dreams) I can hear your name, And in dreams, (And in dreams) We will meet again...”

~“In Dreams (cover) by Peter Hollens

x~x~x~x

Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier​ and Robert Bellamy were confident the night before their presentation for History of Magic. The two had spent a good two hours at the Three Broomsticks organizing everything -- not only did they keep finding helpful information to add to their presentation in the books Madame Pince provided, but they also couldn’t help but keep taking light, amiable jabs at both the material and each other the entire time. Atticus honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun doing homework, aside from perhaps the essay he’d done earlier that year for Professor Lupin on banshees. Lupin had actually gone so far as to say Atticus would make a fine Defense Against the Dark Arts professor himself someday, which made Atticus feel very proud indeed.

The night before the fifth year class’s History of Magic presentations also happened to be Halloween, so Atticus allowed himself to indulge in a few more sweets than he might have otherwise. His father always tried to curtail his sweet tooth whenever possible, but it was a little harder for him to do that at school, and after how good of a weekend he’d had, Atticus couldn’t resist spoiling himself a little. He noticed Robert and Cecelia Crouch sitting with Barty Gilbert over at the neighboring Gryffindor table instead of their own tables -- Barty was gesturing animatedly as he spoke, but his voice was too soft for him to tell what the three were talking about. Atticus did, however, briefly meet Robert’s eye, and the curly-haired Chaser smirked and gave him a short, offhand wave. Atticus gave a weak wave in return: as soon as Cecelia and Barty turned around, though, Atticus found himself averting his eyes again, unable to look at Robert’s best friend. He felt a little guilty thinking about how Barty had apparently worried he might be lonely...but that, strangely, also made him feel rather sour. Barty Gilbert was the only son of a wealthy Pureblood family -- he would know full well what Atticus’s life was like, if he actually bothered to care about his family’s expectations of him...if his parents didn’t spoil him and let him do whatever he wanted...

As fate would have it, however, that Halloween night -- October 31, 1993 -- did not go the way any student or teacher at Hogwarts had thought...all because of the escaped convict, Sirius Black.

The boys of the Ravenclaw fifth-year dorm were abruptly woken up by their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, who informed them that everyone would be heading down to the Great Hall immediately. Atticus noticed Robert dawdle slightly behind the others -- the Chaser had had to pull on an old, slightly-too-small white undershirt with some holes around the neck, since he generally only wore pajama pants to bed.

When the Ravenclaws all arrived in the Great Hall, they found everyone else from the remaining dorms there too, and the news soon spread -- Sirius Black had actually made it inside the castle and had attacked the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower trying to get inside. While the teachers searched the school and grounds, the students would remain in the Great Hall and sleep in comfy purple sleeping bags on the floor.

Atticus had never been a very good sleeper -- he���d had insomnia since before he arrived at Hogwarts, but the stressors at school only seemed to make it worse. This was why he noticed right away when -- after the teachers were out of earshot and view -- Barty and Cecelia crept past his sleeping bag, toward the open doors of the entrance hall.

“And where do you think you two are going?” said Atticus very coolly under his breath without getting up.

Part of Atticus cynically thought they might be sneaking out for some sort of late-night tryst...but Cecelia was Hufflepuff Prefect, so Atticus thought, she really should know better, especially with a wanted criminal loose somewhere in the school.

Both Barty and Cecelia gave a start. Upon realizing who had spoken, however, their faces suddenly became much more serious.

“Atticus,” said Barty, his soft voice oddly urgent, “have you seen Robert? Did he come down to the Hall, with you?”

Atticus blinked, taken aback. “Yes -- that is, he did come down with us...”

He looked around. Sure enough, he didn’t see Robert anywhere in the Great Hall.

Despite himself, Atticus felt concern prickling at the inside of his chest. It must’ve shown on his face, since Cecelia said anxiously,

“Will you help us look for him? I mean, you’re a Prefect too...if we get caught out of bed, you can help me vouch for Barty and Robert...”

In that moment Atticus couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than cover up for Barty Gilbert breaking the rules and putting himself and others in danger...but at the same time, he was only doing it because he was worried about his best friend. And Atticus had to admit, with Sirius Black on the loose, he was a bit worried about Robert being out there, too.

Barty wasn’t about to wait around for Atticus’s answer -- the taller boy had already darted across the rest of the Hall toward the double doors, determined to find Robert. Exchanging a look with Cecelia, Atticus exhaled heavily and nodded, shuffling quickly out of his sleeping bag and putting his muted blue slippers back on so that he could follow Cecelia after Barty.

Barty barrelled down the hallway, overtaking the other two with his much longer strides. It took Atticus at one point dashing forward and grabbing the back of Barty’s gray Weird Sisters T-shirt to pull him behind a column, just to keep a patrolling Professor Sinistra from seeing him.

“You’re going to get all three of us caught, if you do that,” hissed Atticus.

Barty shot a guilty look over his shoulder at Atticus. “Sorry...guess I’m just a little tense...”

Cecelia caught up with them, bringing a hand on the back of each of their shoulders.

“Any ideas of where he might have gone?” she whispered, her hazel eyes full of concern.

Atticus contemplated the matter. “...Maybe he went back up to our dorm. The shirt he threw on did look a bit too small...he could’ve wanted to go get his robe...”

“He wouldn’t have a robe that fits either,” said Cecelia with a shake of her head. “Rob outgrew a lot of his clothes over the summer -- he’s just too stubborn and proud to let either of us buy him larger robes and such. I reckon it’s only because the school pays for everyone’s Quidditch robes that Rob’s Chaser robes still fit...”

Atticus blinked in surprise. “...So that’s why he’s always wearing his Quidditch robes, instead of his usual school robes?”

Noticing Atticus’s expression, Barty actually fixed him with an unusually sharp look. “Rob isn’t the sort to want pity -- and I hope you’ll agree that he also doesn’t deserve any condescension.”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed. “I would never condescend to him for that! I merely...never considered that his family was that bad-off, is all...”

Robert’s rather disheveled appearance did make a lot more sense, though.

Barty’s expression softened visibly at Atticus’s reassurance, instantly becoming much more patient again. He peeked around the statue, watching as Sinistra talked to Professor Sprout.

“I wish I’d thought to bring my Cloak,” he muttered under his breath to Cecelia.

Atticus frowned deeply. “Your Cloak?”

Cecelia shook her head dismissively. “How do you get up to Ravenclaw Tower from here, Atticus? Maybe Rob still headed up that way, even if it wasn’t for a robe...”

Still frowning, Atticus nonetheless pointed. “Up the grand staircase, to the left. It’s not very far from Gryffindor Tower actually, if I’m not mistaken...it’s by the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

“That is close,” said Barty.

Cecelia peeked around the statue and gave the two boys a very pretty, broad smile. “Brilliant, they’ve moved on. Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long for the three to find Robert, fortunately. Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser hadn’t gone all the way back up to Ravenclaw Tower -- instead he’d merely snatched up his sleeping bag and stowed it underneath one of the smaller staircases on the second floor so he could sit on it by himself in the dark. He was very surprised to see that Cecelia, Barty, and Atticus had come after him, and not exactly happily so.

“I’m all right, Barty,” said Robert lowly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do!” said Barty. His quiet, charming voice was oddly hard as he towered over his best friend sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Rob, that madman Black ended up just outside my dormitory not too long ago -- sure, I never saw him myself, but he’s still out there somewhere! You think I could’ve lived with myself, if he hurt you?”

“I think I can more than take out a man without a wand,” Robert said coolly. “Reckon Black wouldn’t be expecting anyone to try punching him straight in the mug.”

“That’s not funny, Robert!” said Cecelia, looking very upset.

Barty looked almost more upset, to the point that it was bordering on anger.

“Rob, you know the dreams I’ve had!” he said lowly under his breath. “You know how scared they’ve always made me -- for you to disappear without a word, when you know that -- you have to know that hurts me!”

Atticus glanced at Barty out the side of his eye, confused. Dreams?

Robert suddenly looked very guilty. His dark eyes had fallen to the floor.

“...Barty, I...”

He swallowed.

“...I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I -- I wasn’t trying to disappear. I just...needed to be alone. That’s all.”

Atticus fixed Robert with a very reproachful look. “Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s the last thing you need.”

Robert looked at Atticus as his dormmate bent down to get down on his level.

"Black is dangerous,” said Atticus. “I realize rules have never been sacred to you, Bellamy, but you’re not invincible. I cannot believe you’re really dumb enough to think you could handle Black single-handed -- you’re no show-off Gryffindor -- ”

Barty raised his eyebrows.

“Excuse me,” Atticus muttered, before moving on. “I just mean that you better have a good reason, to want to hide away from everyone else.”

Robert’s dark eyes on Atticus’s were narrowed, but not angry. He looped his arms around one of his knees absently, interlacing the fingers.

“...I just didn’t want to disrupt anyone else sleeping,” he muttered uncomfortably. 

Atticus raised his eyebrows. “Why would you think you’d do that?”

“I can’t cast Muffliato on fat air. It works on bed curtains and walls, but if I’m in a sleeping bag in a wide open room, I don’t have anything I can cast it on. I figured I could at least use it on the bottom of the stairs, sleeping under here.”

Cecelia suddenly looked shocked and dismayed as she bent down on her knees next to Robert. “Rob, have your nightmares come back? Is that what this is about?”

Robert avoided her gaze. Atticus looked from Robert to Cecelia, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. “You mean like the kind you used to have in first year, when you claimed you were homesick?”

Robert kept his eyes locked on the floor. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.

Barty, however, looked from Atticus to Robert and got down on his own knees, wrapping his arms around his friends’ shoulders.

“We’ve...always had weird dreams -- all three of us,” the tall Gryffindor admitted softly. "Sometimes they’re bad, but most of the time, they just don’t make sense. And sometimes, when we meet or interact with certain people...with each other...the dreams become clearer.”

Atticus felt a chill run down his spine. The description sounded scarily familiar. His own dreams where he woke up sobbing in the middle of the night -- that bizarre feeling of deja vu that he experienced around Barty and Robert -- sank their claws into his brain.

“Cecelia thinks that they might be some kind of premonition,” said Barty. “She’s got some Seer blood in her family. But my family doesn’t have any, and Rob’s family obviously doesn’t either. And...well, again, the dreams are weird. We’re often older in our dreams, but the scenarios we’re in don’t make any sense...and even if some people and places appear the same, something’s always off about them. And that’s not even counting the dreams where nothing’s clear at all and you don’t remember any details, except how it made you feel...”

Atticus's face had lost most of its color.

“You’ve...all had these dreams?” he whispered.

His blue eyes darted from Barty to Cecelia to Robert. Robert once again avoided Atticus’s eye.

“Do you...see anyone else in them, besides just each other?” Atticus couldn’t help but ask. His heart felt like it was stuck in his throat.

Barty glanced at Robert, whose shoulders had tensed visibly. He squeezed his best friend’s shoulder in an attempt to show support.

“...Sometimes,” said Barty lowly.

“Who?” Atticus asked, his voice a little more insistent than he’d intended.

Atticus didn’t even realize that his hands were shaking until Cecelia reached out to rest a comforting hand on top of them.

“Atticus,” said Cecelia, her eyebrows knitting together over her eyes in concern, “...have you...had strange dreams too?”

Robert looked up for the first time in minutes, his dark eyes flying up to Atticus’s face and searching his expression. Atticus felt himself swallowing back a lump in his throat -- he couldn’t hold eye contact with Robert too long, and soon his gaze fell down to Robert’s purple sleeping bag.

“...Yes,” he said at last, very softly. “They’re...not that clear, most of the time. I forget most of the details when I wake up...but I remember the feelings. And...when I’m awake, I remember pieces of them again, sometimes, in random situations. Sometimes people seem familiar, or something about them seems familiar...even when we don’t even know each other at all. Sometimes they’ll seem so familiar, and yet one little thing will just be...wrong, somehow...and I can hardly explain why.”

Both Barty and Cecelia looked at Robert. Robert squeezed his knee a bit closer to his chest, his dark eyes locked on Atticus’s face and rippling deeply. He was clearly thinking hard.

“...Have you seen us?” Robert murmured. “In your dreams?”

Atticus winced. He couldn’t look at Barty, so he kept his eyes downcast.

“...I’ve seen Gilbert,” he muttered. “At least, I think so -- it looks a lot like him.”

Barty looked taken aback. “You’ve seen me?”

He shot Robert another covert look.

“...That’s weird,” he murmured.

"I’d say this whole situation could be considered a touch weird, Barty,” said Cecelia a light, but crisp voice that seemed to put an end to the current line of conversation.

She too shot another quick look at Robert before looking around at all of them.

“It’s getting late. We should try to get some sleep...especially with our presentations for Binns due later today.”

Although his brain was still whirling so fast he doubted that he’d be able to sleep a wink, Atticus nonetheless nodded.

“...Yes...we should be at our best.” He tried to offer Robert a smile. “...We are supposed to be Professors Lestrange and Bellamy, in about nine hours.”

Robert despite himself couldn’t help but smile. “...Right.”

“‘Professor Bellamy?’” repeated Cecelia, and her hazel eyes sparkled in delight. “Oh, I’d love to see that -- you’d look awfully handsome in a pair of spectacles, Robert.”

“Maybe I’ll try to borrow Percy Weasley’s,” joked Robert.

Neither Barty nor Atticus could bite back a laugh.

“Rob, lay off,” said Barty in soft amusement. “Just because Percy’s Head Boy doesn’t mean you have to tease him...”

“No, but it does put a lovely target on his back,” said Robert rather cheekily. “Or rather, on his lapel.”

Atticus shook his head, even while grinning from ear to ear. “I take back everything I said before -- you’d make a horrible professor.”

Robert laughed loudly as Atticus used the Geminio charm to duplicate Robert’s sleeping bag three times, so that all four of them could settle themselves down under the staircase together. Once all of them got tucked in, Robert used the Muffliato Charm on the stairs so that any sounds they might made were deadened, and soon they all fell asleep. Even Atticus, tucked into the corner closest to Robert, found himself nodding off.

Amazingly, although Robert had suffered from nightmares constantly for almost five years, he ended up sleeping peacefully until after daybreak. Even more amazingly, Atticus -- who never slept well -- woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time...all thanks to a dream he only half-remembered upon waking up that included a soothing male singing voice and a pair of oddly gentle scarlet eyes watching over him.

[imjustkindafloating]

Starry Eyed Boy, Part 4

Summary: Virgil settles into his room. Roman joins the picture. Logan and Roman have a conversation.

Pairings:  Pre-Romantic Analogical / Eventual Analogical, Established Royality (if you squint)

Word Count: 1,055

Warnings:  Anxiety over small things, dissociation, if i need to add, lmk.

Notes:  Sorry that this took so long, family things happened.  I had a death in the family and i dont really have much motivation to do much.  thank you for sticking around <3.

Taglist: @shitpost-sides @gothybubby @rainbowbowtie @hikarisakurariver @singularthoughtofstatic @supersoftsupersleep @gabrieldoesstuff @justthatamount 

     Emile was nice and somehow knew too much about cartoons from earth.  Once Virgil has asked his questions and only sometimes got his answers, he was shown to his room.  As the guard that escorted him to his chambers and he opened the door, Virgil let out a loud gasp.  

    “Is everything okay, sir?”  The guard asked.  The guard had ginger hair down to his shoulders emerald green eyes.  He was slightly tan and had markings on his face that seemed to glow red.  Virgil nodded and the taller man led Virgil into the room.  As Virgil looked around he mumbled, “Whats your name?” to the guard.

    “Mine?  Oh, my name is Roman P. Kingsleigh.  My purpose here is to make sure you and Logan are protected and safe as you adjust to Arteska.  Not that the kingdom is dangerous.  I am one of the head guards here, you see.  I’m positive that is why Emile appointed me this position.”

    “I thought Logan said he could protect us?”

    “He can, but that’s not his purpose as your tutor.  Emile didn’t think it fair for Logan to do multiple jobs when his first motivation should be your education on the planet, among other things.”  

    “Oh...”  Virgil said, as his eyes drooped slightly.  He didn’t have anything worthwhile to say and he felt a bit too sluggish to respond.  Roman seemed to understand, though.  

     “I’ll leave you be now, sir.  Please, get some sleep.  Tomorrow, you will get the tour of the palace and city.”  Roman said as he turned to the door and with one more, “Fairfarren!” he left the room and slowly closed the door. 

     Virgil only started to actually focus on how tired he was after he heard the click of the door shutting.  He thought it surprising how simplistic the castle was.  Maybe it was just old or maybe Emile liked the simpler things.  Virgil probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was excited about the tour tomorrow.  Whether it was because he knew it would be Logan showing him the wonders or because of the actual city, he’ll never say.  

     Virgil found his luggage on the end of his bed.  He grabbed his suitcase and moved it to the dresser opposite his bed.  The dresser had a large, what Virgil assumed, TV on it.  The TV was paper thin and seemingly made of glass.  As Virgil opened the door, he found clothes already inside.  A thought shot through his skull.  What if Roman showed you to the wrong room?  Virgil quickly shut it down as he flicked through the clothes.  They seemed brand new, and Virgil found himself smiling at the colors of the clothes.  Purple, black, purple, black, gray, black and so on and so on.  Virgil assumed Logan had sent some sort of message to Emile on Virgil’s fashion choices.

     He decided to leave his other clothes in his bag and pulled out some pajamas from his suitcase, not willing to risk wearing something he wasn’t 100% was his.  He was 95% sure but not completely and he didn’t want to risk it.  The t-shirt had a few holes in it and the pants felt too small, but they were familiar.  They smelt like coconut and coffee body wash he used before he got onto the ship.  As he climbed into the too big bed, he thought of how odd it felt here.  It felt like home, and he hasn’t felt that since he was a kid.

-----

     Logan stirred the drink in his hand around the glass.  A knock on the door.  Confirmation to enter.  Red and white sitting in front of him.  Two snaps.

     Wait.  Two?  He blinked twice and his eyes focused again.  Roman was sitting in front of him with his head slightly tilted.  

    “--gan.  Hey, hi.  Are you back?”  Roman asked, his eyebrows furrowed together.  Logan nodded once and slowly took a drink of his tea.  Roman leaned back against the chair and nodded as his eyes drifted around the room.

    “Well... how was it?  Earth?  Is it like Sir Emile says?”  Roman asked quietly, a glint in his eye, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards.  Logan smirked and said, “There were golden fields, the trains puffed out smoke from their engines and the city lights looked like artificial stars.  Before me and Virgil left, he showed me around his city.  It started to rain and we were making our way back to his living quarters.  The cars on the road made the puddles splash onto the sidewalk and when one splashed my shoe, I looked away from him.  When I looked back up, he had his arms out and he smiled at the sky.  I’m sure I looked strange, standing in the rain with sunglasses on.  He--” looked at me strange.  Logan coughed, and Romans eyes glinted with something other than curiosity.  “Earthlings are quite strange.  I’d love for you and Patton to go one day.”  

     “Logan, I’ve known you for years.  He is quite...”  Roman leaned forward, settling his elbows on his knees and holding his hands together.  “Cute?  Is he not?”

     Logan paused for a moment.  He blinked.  Virgil had once compared this to a ‘blue screen’.  He still didn’t understand what he had in common with a screen.  He blinked once more.

    “Oh.  That’s what that is.”  Logan mumbled.  He slumped into his sofa more.  He heard Romans deep chuckling but ignored it.  The corner of his smile quirked upwards.  He took a drink.  

     “Now, that’s quite the development.”  He spoke, as he pushed himself into a healthier sitting position.  Roman huffed out a laugh once more and nodded.  

    “Only two weeks, it took, to woo you.  Fate, perhaps.”

    “You know I don’t believe in your silly little work arounds to pure chance.  I will admit, maybe he did woo me... but fate doesn’t exist.”  Logan sipped at his drink.  Roman shrugged.

     “So what are you going to do about it?”  Roman inquired.  Logan took another, longer drink from his cup.

    “If he shows signs that he reciprocates feelings, I will let it be known how I feel, but I’d hate to force anything on him.  He’s already so worried about everything.  I don’t want to overwhelm him.”  Logan said, matter-of-factly.  Roman nodded.  

    “Still seems to me that it is fate.”

    “It’s not fate, you oaf.”

     Roman laughed.

[pinkykitten]

oc - felicity ivy jones bio (peaky blinders)

Faceclaim: Keira Knightley (looks like mostly vera from the edge of love)

Character Profile

Full name: FELICITY IVY JONES

Nicknames or Aliases: Red, Ms. Red, Big Red, Scarlet

History of Nicknames: Her favorite color is red and that is what she named the love of her life, her club, Red. She also loves wearing red. She has long sharp red nails that she fancies and she is always wearing her red lipstick and occasionally wears her red clawed gloves, shoes or her favorite, her red suits. She doesn’t like anyone or wants anyone to know her true name and people are intimidated by this head gangster gal and very scared of her. She will hurt you if you show her disrespect by calling her her real name. She is also deep down terrified of people digging into her personal life.

Age: 30 or thirties

She is from London but she resides in Birmingham, England

Personality: sarcastic, flirtatious, teasing, annoyed 99% of the time, she acts a lot like helga from alantis the lost empire, Jessica rabbit and meg from Hercules, to the public and her crew she is a tough bad a*s that can handle herself but at home she is wreck and is falling apart, depressed, and has a tiny bit of ocd, she cries most days and has bags under her eyes which she covers up with makeup and she takes tokyo, prescription drugs, and drinks heavily. at home she lets her guard down and is a mess having breakdowns.

Likes: dancing and singing (she does this not all the time but whenever she wants she sings at her club), suits suits suits that is all she wears people, good expensive suits and shoes and hats, food and alcohol, cooking, loves her club thats like her child, money, boxing, guns and weapons, fighting, tokyo, jewelry, makeup, womens rights, and her girls

Family: Arlo Jones (father, deceased)

Seren Jones (little sister)

Relationship with characters:

Tommy Shelby - She met Tommy when her father and little sister moved to Birmingham to manufacture cars and start a new life. Through her father she met Tommy and they quickly became good friends. She didn’t mind anything about him she just took him as he was. They grew very close but ww1 came and unfortunately Felicity didn’t keep in connection with Tommy. Her letters to him dying until they were no more. They both went their separate ways until when Tommy came back he saw that Felicity had made a name for herself and started doing business with her and seeing her as a business partner. Another gang he could trust. They still do have a really close relationship and its like they never had lost contact but their business lifestyle and differences makes them not go further than friends. They are now good friends and Felicity looks up to Tommy and trusts him with everything she has. Also she is the one where Tommy gets his most amount of tokyo. Tommy is also a regular at her club and his men and whoever is friends with him or family is a friend to her. They are very sarcastic with each other and playful and very flirty. Tommy tells Felicity everything and Tommy is one of the very few people who knows the real Felicity and all her demons. He is the only one she allows to call her real name and he doesn’t call her red. They protect each other and are like thick as thieves. He has a lot of respect for her.

Luca Changretta - Everybody in Birmingham and in London know about Red and her men. Luca knew she had connections with Tommy and invited her to his office to talk about setting a plan to get back at the peaky blinders. She would never do Tom dirty like that so she over and over again tried to disagree and leave but Luca sat her on his desk (knowing she was lonely after just having broken up with red’s ex) and the two had sex, only that one time as Felicity was lonely and the moment was heated. Luca flirts with her and teases her which she hates as she doesn’t like to be taken advantage of. He comes to her club and she sings to flirtatiously to him. Luca find Felicity invigorating and captivating, liking a woman in charge. Where as Felicity finds Luca an annoyance and a pain.

Alfie Solomons - That is her ride or die boy. She and Alfie are like two peas in a pod and she is also very flirtatious towards him. she loves alfie and spends a lot of time with him. since red doesn’t believe in love she is always trying to pick out a girl for alfie to go with or to bang (unknown to her alfie wants felicity) red is like one of the men. They are also business partners. alfies rum is sold and given at the club red and felicity is one of alfies buyers. They a lot of times act like a married couple. Alfie sometimes gets cheesy with his who charming personality or charming with red but she gets very annoyed. alfie thinks felicity is cute but he doesn’t want to admit it but he is very afraid of red. he knows not to get on her bad side. Alfie along with tommy is also a person that knows about her past and inner demons but because of word and rumors and sometimes her depression slips out making alfie worry for her and care about her. also they get a long very well because felicity is a jewish convert and is more devoted to the religion than Alfie. She partakes in all the jewish holidays and traditions and yes dinners.

Michael Gray - he has a major crush on red. he is intrigued by her and honestly felicity finds it kinda cute. he is sorta shy around her but when he gets cocky with the gang business he then starts to be more forward with red. he may not know it but she respects michael and finds him attractive. he tries really hard with her. he finds her unique and cool. she is very protective of michael. she would also visit him a lot of times, cooking for him when he was at the hospital. they get close.

Harriet Gould - her ex. before the luca incident with his arrival and everything of him felicity was with a writer for the papers. he was a shy, and timid man. at first red didn’t want anything to do with him as he was asking questions about her success based on the club as he wanted to write an article about her. she didn’t want more news spread about her but with his begging and her finding him attractive and liking his determination she finally agreed. she also thought maybe by harriet spreading the news about her club her club would gain popularity. tommy of course did not like him and found him very suspicious and sketchy. red treated him kindly and good and soon the two became close. he had a peak into her life and also she opened up to him about her past telling him the truth and wanting him to write it down. he was her favorite person. unfortunately it was shown later harritet’s true intentions. the coppers obey and listen to red much like they do to tommy but a group of coppers were planning to go against red and needed someone to know insight things to steal the money in red’s club. like tommy has a vault for the money so does red except hers is red lol. she found at night they had broken in and stole all the money. furious she found out it was harriet and the coppers and killed the coppers, hanging their bloody beaten bodies upside down in their homes and thankfully she retrieved the money she lost. she tried to kill harriet but she couldn’t find herself to do the deed as she still loved him even though he stole from her and went against her. harriet played with red’s mind and made her trust him again and take him back. he also begged for his life and told red that he would publish the article about her club and her. thinking it was over and thinking he still loved her red allowed him to live with her. she then though caught him cheating and making love to another woman on her bed. feeling anger and having enough she shot both the woman and harriet in the head. she broke down and now is more mentally unstable then before. having more trust issues and not believing in love.

Arthur Shelby - he loves her cause she gives him the light of day and she is usually on arthur’s side and loves him. she gets arthur a lot. they have kissed once but because they both were drunk and high as a kite. arthur is very protective of felicity and she jokes a lot with him. she barely ever gets angry with him and he seeks her to find good advice and comfort.

John Shelby - when she can she acts like a total dweeb and idiot when she is with john. she likes to rile him up as she likes it when he fights and gets angry. they like to gush over guns and who has more bde. he is also kinda scared of felicity but she would never hurt him. plus one of his daughter wants to be like red and he doesn’t know how he feels about it but red is like the worst with kids so she like tries her hardest with his million children. since she is very rich and wealthy she buys the kids gifts every time she visits john. john can’t even keep up with it.

Finn Shelby - boi put your pee wee back in your pants. finn sees felicity as an old lady and jokes with her saying she is old. she usually is seen smacking him upside the head. she was the first one to buy him a gun and teach him how to shoot. oops. also one of red’s girls likes him and he loves coming to the club red to not only have a smoke, tokyo, and a drink but also he loves the girls and usually he gets some action there. but felicity checks the girl first before she has sex with the tommy shelby’s brother.

Ada Shelby - red looks up to ada actually. she wishes she could be as strong as her and could have that affection and life that ada has. she loves hanging out with ada. they are like sisters. they go shopping all the time and eat every where. felicity loves to buy ada things such as purses, dresses, makeup, jewelry and red is always playing matchmaker with ada. getting her men to take ada out to dinner. red likes to take ada’s son to races and unknown to ada red lets karl make bets. red is always there for ada and if ever ada should call or ask for red felicity would be there in a flash in a minute. ada is her girl and she is always there for her especially with freddie’s death and just through tough times in ada’s life.

Polly Gray - where to start. red sees polly as her idol, her goddess. red wants to be like her when she grows up heck now. she listens to polly and takes her advice because polly is usually correct in things. thats why is was odd to polly and out of the box behavior for red when red got annoyed and stood up for michael. as much as she loves polly she loves this gangster life more and feels michael is old enough to decide what he wants for himself. she feels michael was born for this life. polly saw red in the beginning as a threat and suspicious but quickly red proved herself to her that she was true and was a friend to the peaky blinders.

Grace Burgess - red doesn’t mind her. she sees her as someone who is kind and sweet yet can handle herself. what she doesn’t like is when grace starts asking questions and trying to interfere and mess up everything red built. red is a friend of tommy and to see him happy and love someone makes red happy for him and more at ease. red even sang for them at their wedding.

Lizzie Stark - red likes how blunt lizzie is and sometimes feels bad for her. red is sometimes annoyed by her and feels that tommy shouldn’t give signs or do something for lizzie if its not genuine.

Linda Shelby - OH MY GOD RED HATES HER AND HAS NEVER LIKED AGHHHHH

Arlo Jones - red and her father had a good relationship. it was like any father and daughter duo. arlo loved his girls and was very serious. he also loved cars. he passed away being war because he was drafted in the british army during world war 1. he taught red to stick up for herself and to work hard and when you work hard you get money and booze.

Seren Jones - red always took care of her baby sister. seren was always quiet but was always laughing and having a smile on her face. she would always love to play with her older sister. because of the war, her father’s death, and recent trauma seren was not mentally stable and was sent to an asylum. red takes care of her still and checks on her to which nobody knows about this (until later tommy knows, alfie and then red tells ada and harriet) red cares deeply for seren and will do anything to protect her sister.

BACKSTORY:

red was mostly raised by her father as red’s mother left the family when seren was a baby. red only remembers some things of her mother but not that much. through hard work arlo went to birmingham small heath to pursue his car manufacturing (this was around the time where in a couple of years tommy would be drafted). red had a good time in small heath yes it was dark and gloomy but she liked it. when she was at small heath she was goofy and silly always making jokes. she became friends with the shelby’s and all their friendships grew. in that time life was more lighthearted and red was more innocent not really caring or giving two thoughts about the darkest places. also in this time she wore dresses.

the day before tommy was to be drafted along with arlo and others, seren and felicity were out. red bought tommy a pin as a gift as she saw it in a store and liked it. they were walking by a group of worker men and the men called out to red and seren. the men were gross and dirty and were trying to take advantage of seren and red. they got a hold of the “pretty one” seren first but red fought them off of her and yelled at seren to leave and go far away. seren, horrified and scarred for life saw the men grabbing felicity and ripping her clothes off. seren fled as red protected her sister. the men took advantage of her in a stables and left red in the dirt like trash. from then on red was never the same. she wanted to tell tommy but tommy had so much going on his plate and he was going to war. red never told anyone the only person who knew was seren but red tried not to worry seren and said that it was nothing. that moment on red didn’t trust men and never wanted to be humiliated like that again. if this was a mans world she was going to become THE man (thats why her attitude she changed she now wore suits, she also wears suits because she thinks if she looks more masculine men won’t be attracted to her and what happened to her won’t happen again). red vowed to never be taken advantage like that again. from that moment on though the men spread rumors of felicity that she was a whore and that she had sex with every man in small heath. people didn’t like red which she grew to not care. she rather people were scared of her for what she could do. red wanted to make a name for herself so she started getting to work in creating her club RED.

her father went to war and felicity had to watch her sister and deal with her club and she learned how dirty this world really could be. she wanted money the clothes the men everything she wanted that lavish lifestyle. word came in that arlo had died in the war and that made seren go into deep depression. so from the war, the father’s death and what happened to red seren became mentally unstable and was forced into an asylum. red visits her everyday and vows to get her out someday.

because of what happened in red’s life, and all the responsibilities such as her men, her girls (the girls that work for red at the club), her sister, her father, everything, red has nightmares and she is addicted to drugs, cocaine, and an alcoholic. but her house and club are always in ship shape and so are her outfits because she has ocd which occurred after what happened to her. nobody knows her dark side and her inner demons and what she is really going through and that she is struggling.

now she has her lavish club RED (idk why but i always envision it looks like gusteau’s resturant)

she has a jazz band that plays at RED every night. anybody can sing there you just have to put your name, there are dance girls and singers. they sing whatever. the dirty part of the club, at day its a normal everyday club but by night you can do drugs there, illegal alcohol if you ask and the woman agrees and she gets paid there are rooms in the back or there to have sex. at night you can do whatever you want its a party city there. red could care less just as long as you don’t mess with the club and that she gets paid. red also does bets and racing as well like the shelbys and she does jewelry.

HER OUTFITS:

OC FOREVER TAGLIST: @witchofinterest, @chlobenet​, @abbysarcane​, @myocmultiverse​, @nkskywalker​, @whctsherncme​, lmk if you want to be on my permanet tag list or red’s tag list!

[sheron-c]

XiSang: Awakening

(The Untamed/MDZS, ~2.2k, XiSang post-canon, sometime in the future, and mostly just pining) The solemn stone alleyways of the Unclean Realm seemed deserted as Lan Xichen made his way through one familiar turn followed by another, in search of the one man he wanted to see before his departure.

Huaisang had disappeared from sight over an hour ago, coinciding with the start of the groups of cultivators setting off for a hunt in the areas surrounding Qinghe. With the late afternoon sun shining on the final day of the cultivator conference in the Unclean Realm, and most cultivators enjoying themselves outside of the sect proper, Xichen had only encountered some servants on his way to the gardens. They bowed and let him pass undisturbed.

As he quietly approached the garden entrance in the innermost space of the Nie sect, a tall shadow separated from the nearby stone gray wall. The bearded man uncrossed his arms and bowed a respectful greeting, but his stare at Xichen was direct and questioning his presence here. Xichen instantly placed him as Yan Ming, a man most loyal to the Nie sect, and a leader of the group of disciples who accompanied Huaisang to official events. Xichen tended to think of him as Huaisang's bodyguard, whether or not the role was formal.

Xichen bowed his head in greeting before asking after his query. "Huaisang wasn't with the hunting party. I thought I might find him here."

This garden was secluded and most outsiders would not have been allowed into the private areas. Huaisang however had made a point of mentioning that Xichen was welcome to treat the Unclean Realm as his home during the week's stay. Huaisang had, in fact, looked quite pleased with each new freedom Xichen allowed himself as his guest. And thus compelled by the obvious warm regard shown his way, Xichen had visited the sect's library and browsed the lengthy tomes there, and stopped by the training grounds and observed a portion of the new training regiment conducted by one of the saber-wielding sect elders.

Busy with the duties of the conference host, Huaisang had not accompanied him, but every once in a while Xichen would catch glimpses of him in the periphery, always speaking with this servant or that about arrangements, and yet always having an encouraging nod for Xichen when their paths crossed, spurring him on to be welcome, to feel at ease.

Making sure the event ran smoothly was an obvious goal, but Xichen felt a personal touch in the way he was being treated. No detail was too unimportant. Nothing was out of place in his elegant quarters, adorned with landscape tapestries and his favourite jasmine incense, nor in the meals that were served throughout the day, not in the evening entertainment. Some of the music performed by the entertainers even held common roots with the melodies from Gusu, and Xichen found it very pleasing to the ear. Huaisang had tried very hard to please him.

If Xichen had been a different man, he might have read it as an attempt to get in his good graces after a difficult year. As it was, he saw only the effort to show that Huaisang was capable, and that he still held Xichen in high regard. Not everything was resolved between them since the events of the Guanyin Temple, but they had moved past the worst of it after some tearful conversations. Xichen chose to trust Huaisang's intentions now and made as much clear upon arrival to Qinghe. His good will was subsequently rewarded by being welcomed more as a beloved family member than a visitor from another sect.

Xichen-ge flowed well off Huaisang's lips and Xichen once more smiled to hear it.

Although no cultivator conference ever went down without heated arguing, somehow they had gotten through this turn with decorum. With a little bit of ingenious planning, Huaisang had satisfied even the grumbling old men used to far more opulence than the austere spaces of Qinghe. So when the conference had wound down and the willing cultivators were offered the opportunity to hunt in the areas surrounding Qinghe, it was a perfect finishing stroke to a brilliant week in which Nie Huaisang had shown the cultivation world what he was capable off in the diplomatic sphere.

Now the man himself was nowhere to be found, and Xichen had a hunch he would be hiding from his guests in one place in particular. As a visitor in days long past, Xichen would often hear complains from Mingjue that the young brother had once more escaped to the gardens and his birds. How much of that young boy remained in the man he knew now, Xichen had yet to see.

He waited while Yan Ming assessed his trustworthiness, before allowing him through an alcove into the exquisite lush garden warded of behind the wall. Teeming with a variety of plants, it seemed at first at odds with the restraint of the surrounding grey stone, before the unity and order made itself apparent. The large rectangular space was full of greenery, tall shrubs harmoniously giving way to picturesque rock formations, and several birds adding a chirping melody from overhead in the branches of a tall tea tree in the center that gave shade to the entire garden.

But the scenery wasn't what drew Xichen's eye. In the very middle of the garden was a human-sized wooden swing, suspended from a sturdy branch of the tea tree. In the garden swing, the young leader of the Nie sect lay innocently sleeping. His head lay on one bent elbow and his fan had nearly fallen out of the other slack hand.

Affection seized Xichen's chest so powerfully that for a moment he couldn't move.

Yan Ming made as if to wake his sect leader, but Xichen quickly motioned for him to stay behind, pressing a finger to his own lips to signal silence. The man gave him a dubious look, but their relative positions in the cultivation world were such that he allowed Xichen to do as he liked, in the absence of any threat to Huaisang.

Xichen approached the bench with silent steps, observing the man laying there carefully. Huaisang had indeed worked hard to make this cultivator conference a success, and he'd planned it almost entirely on his own. It was no wonder he found himself without energy after such a draining week. Even when Xichen stood right next to him, Huaisang didn't wake.

Xichen smiled, as an idea came to him. Crouching in front of the swing, he went to take the boots off first. One boot, then the other, he freed Huaisang's feet from the confinement, then very carefully and slowly pulled his legs up to the swing so he could rest more comfortably. Huaisang shifted slightly in his sleep, which had Xichen freeze in his movements, but in the end did not wake up. Xichen then took the wrist of the one hand that had slid down and tucked it in closer to the man's chest.

He admired his own handiwork, studying the other man. Asleep, Huaisang looked younger, though Xichen could never again see him as that carefree boy that used to get in trouble at the Cloud Recesses along with Wei Wuxian. Too much time had come and gone, and they'd both gone through a great deal. Still, as he looked into that familiar face, eyes tracing the elegant features, the sweeping dark lashes and delicate mouth, he couldn't help reaching out with a hand and brushing his hair once, tenderly moving the stray dark strands back from Huaisang's face.

Afterwards, Xichen rose briskly. His heart beat rapidly. He walked back to where Yan Ming observed the scene with an inscrutable look, and motioned for the man to follow. They left the garden courtyard in silence.

"Let him sleep," Xichen requested when they wouldn't be overheard. "There's no need to disturb him. I can wait in the study until Huaisang wakes on his own." Finding the path back would be easy, he had spent plenty of time in Qinghe to know his way around the Unclean Realm. He would of course delay his departure until they had a chance to say their goodbyes. It seemed impossible to leave without speaking with Huaisang at least once more.

After a moment, Yan Ming nodded. "Zewu-jun, do you require anything brought to you?"

"Just a brush with ink, and paper would be good," Xichen said. "I will write some letters."

Before departing the peaceful gardens, he couldn't help one last look back to where Huaisang slept on, in the tree shade. The moment seemed to stretch with delicious languor until he pulled himself away.

***

Nie Huaisang found himself needlessly straightening his hair and clothing one more time as he strode briskly towards the private study where, after asking around, he expected Xichen to be waiting for him.

Falling asleep the way he had was bad enough on its own, let alone when it meant that his most important guest had to wait around. He'd been so tired after the sleepless night that he had simply lay down on the garden swing for a moment to shut his eyes, not even thinking to let the servants know to wake him, and it had turned into several wasted hours. Someone had removed his shoes while he'd been asleep.

His steps slowed as he approached the study. Yan Ming was leaning against one of the columns outside the door, arms crossed, ostensibly guarding the entrance. He nodded to his sect leader when Huaisang indicated with a motion of the head and a raised eyebrow his silent question of whether his guest was inside. The door to the study was open to let the humid summer air circulate, and Huaisang paused on the threshold.

Xichen was sitting at one of the wooden tables, a brush in hand and his attention on the papers before him. Leaning one hand against the door frame, Huaisang studied his profile. His back was straight and the way he inclined his head held the kind of elegance that Huaisang would envy in another man. In Xichen it just made him sigh. The movements of his fan slowed to a halt as he simply observed the man in silence for several drawn out moments, as if to memorize him.

Xichen was writing something, possibly a letter, and his mouth moved a little as he mouthed the occasional word to himself, lost in thought. Huaisang sighed wistfully again, unconscious he was doing it until he heard a quiet snort behind him. His eyes flickered to Yan Ming and found the man watching him, arms crossed and a knowing look on his face. Face growing unexpectedly hot, Huaisang resumed fanning himself, eyes cutting away to Xichen again. Thankfully, the man hadn't heard their near-silent exchange.

Huaisang motioned for Yan Ming to follow him around the corner, and only then spoke low enough not to be overheard. "Can you check with the kitchen, see if there is any of that loose-leaf tea from Gusu left?" He hesitated, adding, "And maybe those biscuits we got as a gift from Lanling the other day? Have those brought as well."

The man nodded and left, and Huaisang appreciated his quiet discretion. Yan Ming may have had things he wanted to say, but he obeyed all the same, which was all Huaisang asked. He thought back to his cherished guest, enjoying a quiet moment in the study. During the conference, Xichen had been a steady voice of reason. He had to be at least as tired as Huaisang felt himself, and he had seemed relaxed and peaceful just then, as he sat writing his letters; it would be a shame to disturb him. By the time Yan Ming returned with a tray of a steaming tea pot and two small tea cups, as well as the biscuits laid out on a plate, Huaisang had thoroughly convinced himself not to intrude on the peaceful atmosphere in the study.

He picked off the second cup and set it aside on the nearby stone railing. It wouldn't be needed. "Bring that to him, please," he nodded towards the rest of the tray.

Yan Ming gave him an odd look. "You won't be taking tea with Zewu-jun?"

Huaisang sighed, and almost startled at what emotion had spurred it, amazed to recognize it within himself. It seemed his foolish heart still held on to such things; he could not deny the longing nature of that sigh. "Best not to disturb him when he is so peaceful, isn't it?"

"I am sure the Lan sect leader would appreciate the company," Yan Ming argued, looking at him with great significance in his expression.

"Oh, just bring him the tea!" Huaisang motioned for him to go with the closed fan. The last thing he needed was his sect members gossiping about Xichen. It would affect his reputation. Huaisang's reputation wasn't anything remarkable these days, but he was ever so conscious of how highly regarded Zewu-jun was, and how he didn't want to jeopardize that among his own men. He turned to leave. "I'll be in my rooms. Bring him only when he asks about me." If he even would.

Yan Ming looked ready to protest, and so Huaisang left before he would get a chance to be convinced otherwise. He'd brought so much trouble to Xichen that leaving him be in a peaceful moment was the least he could do.

If his unrepentant eyes cut away for one final look at Xichen and another wistful sigh betrayed him, nobody had to know.

***************** TBC? To be honest, I did write half of the second part to this, where they actually get to the kissing, but for now, I think this can be read self-contained.

[zombiekillerky]

{Abrupt Awakening} -Sleepyboisinc Fanfic

.The blonde adventurer sighed as he fixed the position of his hat back up straight as he stood up from the wooden floor. The unsettling sound of his back popping was heard shortly after as his hands rested on his hips. He was finally done organizing the mess of things in the chests on the bottom floor of the house. Usually Techno was one to keep things clean and organized from what Phil had remembered. But seeing this mess just activated his OCD and it had to be fixed whether he liked it or not. He knew the warrior he shared the house with wouldn't mind it either. Recalling the times in the past where he has done the same charade if things got to messy for his liking. The blonde took out his small watch out of his front pocket that laid with his compass. A annoyed expression rose on to his face as he watched the big hand land on 4. It took him an hour and a half to organize everything to a somewhat normal arrangement. When he should have been getting ready for his mining trip he wanted to go out on before.

"At least that's done and over with for now... until Tommy starts going through everything when he comes back from his little mission in L'manburg he didn't go in to detail about......*sigh* he's going to dig himself a deeper grave one of these days I swear....that and make me grow gray hair at a faster rate" Philza muttered to himself as he brushed off the dust on his knees from the floor boards. Talking to himself was a small habit he picked up after being left in his own Hardcore world alone for some time. Keeping himself busy as he worked, it started with small tunes and grew in to talking to himself about ideas and other plans. It wasn't as close to Techno's voices though which he prayed would go away for him. But at this rate he prayed his habit wouldn't get that bad.

The blonde adventurer smiled at his work, brushing some hair out of his face before he pushed the last chest back where it belonged with the rest. There was still some day time left that he could work with, doing nothing wasn't something he liked most of the time. Even after Wilbur saying he wanted him to take breaks every now and then before and after his death. Phil couldn't seem to bring himself to do it, always having something to keep his hands busy. It didn't help that Techno always instigated him to do whatever he wanted anyway. Caring but also not stopping him from working at times, it seemed like he couldn't bring himself to tell Phil what to do anyway.

Philza soon raised his head in suspicion, realizing he hasn't heard not one peep from the Blood God himself up stairs. From what he could remember he came in around half the way when Phil was working. Setting down some food for him before heading up stairs, muttering something about potions before he disappeared.

"Maybe he would want to go out on a mining trip, I know he has been wanting some extra xp levels for his enchantments.....But didn't he need netherite as well?...we can figure that out later I'm sure he would want to" Phil said to himself as he sat his watch back in to his pocket. Hearing the metal clink against the compass with the pocket. The blonde shook his head as he slowly made his way to the stairs, climbing them slowly to try and hear if Techno was working. The only way he could tell was if he could hear the annoyed muttering of him as he walked closer like usual when he worked on potions. But the sound of the potions being brewed was all that was heard. Every time Phil stopped on the squeaky steps that's all he could hear as he continued upwards.

But what Philza didn't expect was the soft snores coming from the hybrid. As soon as he came up the stairs he found him, his crown on the table and the red cloak rested on the back of his chair. Head on his forearms which rested on the table in front of the potions. His hair was quite messy and tossed behind him then in the usual spot over his shoulder. A small smirk formed on the blondes face as he took a step forward. He has never seen Techno fallen asleep while working before, the man was so stubborn he forced himself to stay awake while working. The phrase "sleep is for the weak" has always been said when Phil or the others told him to go rest. So much for making any more potions like the hybrid wanted to. The mining trip with Phil would be postponed for a little while until his waking as well.

As Phil walked a couple steps closer he watched Techno's expression change suddenly as he stirred in his sleep. An unfamiliar pained expression appeared as he moved his head to the side. Tossing and turning in his spot as he sat there, muttering things in his sleep. From what the concerned blonde could make out he was saying things like "Blood", "Stay back", "Hurt", "monster". His words made the hairs on Phil's forearms stand as he heard them escape from Techno's mouth. His expressions changed from worried, anger and misery with in seconds. At this rate the blonde had had enough of this act, scaring him and concerning him completely. Wondering what the hybrid might have been dreaming this whole time to make him act like this.

"techno.......techno, mate wake up" Phil softly muttered, not sure if he should wake him or not. The rules were don't wake up a person if they are sleep walking and having a bad dream right? But to no avail Techno did not wake, only a small grunts and a whimpers escaped from his lips as his fists clenched tightly. Showing the muscles in his forearm and bicep from how strong he was clenching. At that rate his nails could cut in to his skin and draw blood. Phil couldn't stand seeing him like this, he couldn't stand any of his sons being scared and in pain like this. It pained him to watch entirely, raising fear within him. Technoblade was one never to show fear or weakness, never to take pity ones give him. He barely ever let Phil take care of him once he got to the age where he could himself. Whatever was wrong he most likely had never said anything nor will he say anything about it once he wakes.

"Techno please mate.....you have to wake up come on now.....you're starting to worry me" Phil said again with his voice louder and shakier then before. Technoblade only stirred some more as he sat there, forcing Phil to come even closer. Right by his side, he could see the sweat on his brow, his jaw clenched. His sharp canines could cut in to his upper lip if they were pressed any tighter then they were at the moment. He hasn't seen this look in forever from what it seemed like, he didn't even look like this when the butcher gang came to get him and bring him back to L'manburg. Phil swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth, his hand reached out toward his best friend and his son sitting there. So many things running through his mind as to why this was happening and what started this. But more questions then answers came as he thought about it more.

"Techno..." His name left Phil's mouth, his hand touched Techno's shoulder softly with a caring touch. With one shake the hybrid's blue and gray eyes flashed open with shock. His left hand ripped off Phil's grasp, his right swung forward and grabbed a hold of his neck. Almost like one of his fighting moves that they have trained before, but Phil has never seen this one.  Technoblade stood up, his figure had always towered over Phil with the couple inches of height he had on him. His actions were quick, making Phil unable to move out of the way as his body was slammed up against the wall. Technoblade's breath was shaky, Phil could see his eyes glazed over with blood lust, fear and rage. Technoblade held him tightly up against the wall with no chance of escape, it was like he didn't even recognize him at the moment. Phil was terrified, this side of Techno has never been shown to him before. Yet it was almost like the real him was trapped, his body was still shaking in fear and confusion. Techno had no idea what was going on and Phil had only frightened him. Something you shouldn't do to a Blood God in the first place.

"Techno! Mate it's me! it's Phil....Philza...please mate calm down.....come on this isn't you and you know it.....it's me!" Phil managed to say, feeling the grip loosen upon him after a couple of seconds. Techno shook his head, the blood lust was settling down with in him as he held his father tightly. Technoblade locked eyes with him as he pinned him up against the wall, seeing the worry and fear with in his icy blue orbs he was amazed by. Technoblade’s grip was dropped, leaving Phil up against the wall in shock. Techno's scarred hands reached up through his messy hair, covering his ears as he heard the voices getting louder and louder. Every step he took back they seemed to get louder and louder with in. What was even going on, what happened, why did he do that!

"Stay on Guard!"

"Danger!"

"Monster!"

"Dadza......you hurt Dadza"

"What did you do"

"Hurt.....monster"

“Dadza....”

Technoblade gripped his head even tighter as he listened to the voices, his breath was shaky as his anxiety flew through the roof. What had he just done, he hurt the one true person he could fully rely on. The one person that could actual trust him, that actually loved him. His true fear was coming true and it terrified him. He truly was a monster.

"I-I......I'm....sorry.....I'm sorry" Techno muttered in shock of himself as he stood there, he needed to leave before he did anything else he would regret. The hybrid's hands were shaking as he turned his body toward the stairs. Planning on making his escape from the house to try and calm himself down. To be alone like he was supposed to this whole time in retirement, to let the voices haunt him like they always do. But before he could even take a couple of steps, the warrior felt two hands on his shoulders. Turning him back around, he couldn't look Phil in the eye. Embarrassment and shame filled him to the brim with anxiety as the cherry on top. What did he want, he could have hurt him badly. He could have done so many things to him when he wasn't thinking. That dream still haunted his memories as he stood there, he wasn't thinking straight and he knew that for a fact. Besides the voices he had always been hearing that is.

"Techno look at me....hey don't be scared, I’m alright" Phil said calmly, his patience with him was something Techno questioned quite often. Feeling like he never deserved his patience in the first place, he never deserved to have Phil by his side either. Technoblade found a small bit of courage to finally face him. Looking back at the icy blue eyes that tended to study him for his emotion he was feeling at the moment. The Icy blue eyes to gave him comfort and a sense that he was concerned and wanted to help him, the eyes that were filled with care and love. The hybrid felt so bad for what he had done, he couldn't understand why he did that in the first place. Why did he lash out when it was only a nightmare, a really bad nightmare at that. What if he had hurt him worse, what if Tommy and Ghostbur was there to see him like that. What if he had hurt them? They were both on one life and technically Ghostbur had none but Phil could handle himself against Techno better then anyone he knew. Beside the green blob homeless man the pig hybrid bullied for not having a specific home to call his

"What's wrong mate?"

"What's wrong Phil?......I don't know I just attacked you and you did nothing wrong....what's wrong Phil is that my worst fear has come true. Why aren't you AFRAID, why aren't you scared of me! I could have hurt you, I could have killed you if I-I didn't stop myself Phil that's what's wrong.... And you ask about me over yourself?" Techno broke down, showing actual raw emotion in his voice as it cracked. His walls breaking down in the moment he has spent so long building up. Phil could tell in his voice he was afraid of many things, he could tell in his eyes and his body language. This was a side he thought he would never see again after the last time many years ago.

"Techno.....I know you wouldn't hurt me......I know you wouldn't have and you should know you wouldn't have either.....are you okay?" Phil asked as he watched his eyes dart around the room, staring at him in confusion. Techno noticed the emphasis in the You specifically as the blonde talked. But the truth was the pig hybrid wasn't even sure about anything at the moment. He seemed to know what to do all the time but truthfully he wasn't sure.

"yeah.....yeah"

"Are you sure.....mate you were talking and stirring in your sleep, what's the matter? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to right now....but you really worried me" Phil asked, showing his true parenting side. Techno watched him, there was no fear in his expression what's so ever. He wasn't even fazed by what happened it seemed like. Techno envied him for that aspect so much yet in no way could he be like that. As Techno looked away he felt himself be pulled closer, Phil's arms wrapped around him slowly, the hug was loose and Phil made sure he wasn't making him uncomfortable. But the fact that Technoblade returned the hug surprised them both. Phil smiled softly as he held on to him, making sure that Techno was alright and felt actually safe.

"Night terror?"

"mmmh"

"Mate you're alright.....I'm here for you whatever it is alright. I'm not going anywhere just so you know.....if you need to talk about it I'm here"

"I know Phil.......thank you" Technoblade muttered as he took a step back, getting a pat on the shoulder from Phil before they parted ways a little bit. Phil smiled softly as he watched him settle down some. Seeming to now be in thought as he stood there, quickly making his way over toward the potions that have been boiling for forever from what it seemed like.

"Did you need me for something by the way Phil, you came up here for a reason right?" Techno suddenly asked as he removed the bottles from the stand and exchanged them for new water bottles. Breaking Phil from his trance as he stood there on the other side of the room almost. He then realized his question after replaying his words in his head. Watching him grab some golden carrots from the chest for the new set of potions he was making.

"Oh a yeah I was wondering if you wanted to go on a mining trip since it's still daylight out....but since you were asleep I'm not sure if you should be going if you need rest mate"

"nah nah nah I'm fine, I'm fine we can go if you want to Phil it's no problem"

"You sure?"

"Yeah.....I don't think I'm going to be able to go back to sleep any way" Techno replied as he sat the new potions in to his chest to the side. turning back to find Phil staring at him with a small bit of concern written on his face. Techno only smiled as he walked back over, placing his scarred hand on his shoulder to show reassurance.

"Don't worry about me to much.....come on we don't have much daylight left anyway" Technoblade said with a small smile on his face as he started to walk towards the stairs.

"Nah mate I'll always worry about you whether you like it or not, it's a dad thing"

"Yeah I know, now come on I need those xp levels!" Technoblade said as he raced down the stairs, making Phil laugh loudly as he walked to follow him down. Shaking his head slightly as he watched him dig out of the weapons chest his silk better picaxe he owned. Sometimes the pig hybrid did worry him a bit to much. But he didn't want to push his boundaries with him. Knowing Technoblade didn't want him to worry about him anyway.

[fantasyoverreality98]

Prince of Shadow

Pairing: Aerin x F! MC

Summary: Aerin reflects on why he chose a path of darkness and receives a visit while imprisoned in the dungeons.

Author’s Note: I’m back at it again with the clownery! Can’t help myself but write about some villains. I will not rest until I get redemption arcs. Anyway, this takes place after the finale of Blades Book 1, and the only warning I have is that it is angst and contains talk of abuse. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it, I really appreciate you.

Word Count: 2,671

-----

Water splashed against the hard stone, the sound echoing in the silent dungeon.

Prince Aerin Valleros sat in the corner, listening to the scurrying rats on the other side of his cell. One ventured closer and withdrew when it felt the dark energy radiating off him. His lips curved up in a smile as he watched the creature disappear into the shadows.

With a sigh, Aerin cast his gaze to the cell door.

“What are you looking at, prince?” the guard sneered.

The prince shook his head and looked away. Two weeks had passed since he woke up in this cell. Only once had his father bothered to visit; first to beg that his precious son come back to him, and then to curse him for killing Baldur. As if his father had ever cared about him.

No, he had never felt loved by his family.

They were weak. Pathetic. Worthless.

All his life, Aerin had been abused by his brother, while his father stood by and watched. Life as a prince meant nothing when he spent every moment wishing that someone, anyone would care for him. Love him.

He’d thought he may have found that in the adventurer. Raine had convinced him that she cared. But like everyone else, she had deceived him and let him down.

And now you are alone.

Foolishly, he briefly allowed himself to believe that she would visit him in the dungeons. Perhaps those feelings were mutual.

But she had never appeared.

“Have you heard word from my father?” Aerin asked, tired of spending his days wondering what came next.

The guard took a moment to respond, and even then, refused to look at the prince. “No. King Arlan has been trying to—”

“And just what do you think you’re doing? Our orders were to watch Prince Aerin. Not engage in a conversation with him.” Another guard sauntered up to the cell, sneering when he glanced at Aerin. “Ignore this traitor.”

Someday, he would make that guard pay for all the mistreatment he had faced in this cell.

Footsteps filled the air, and for a brief moment, hope flared in Aerin’s chest. The excitement vanished when he saw that it was simply another guard. Of course it wasn’t Raine. He was foolish to believe even for a moment it might be.

“But why, Aerin? Why would you do this?”

“What life did I have before? Forever trapped in the shadow of my fool of a brother, doomed to a life of pathetic obscurity? Bullied. Doubted. Mocked. I hated it here. My only reprieve was in my dreams.”

No one understood how it felt to live life as a constant afterthought. Baldur had spent every possible moment torturing him, making him feel insignificant, while their father stood by and encouraged it.

Aerin may regret some of his decisions now that the Dreadlord had been defeated, but he would never regret ending his brother’s life. Baldur got what he deserved. He had been the truly evil one.

“Have you heard word of the heroes?” Aerin’s voice echoed in the cell, and he tried to mask the desperation he felt.

If Raine would appear, just once, he might allow himself to believe that things could change. Despite all that happened, he still wanted her. He wanted to be with her. If she would have him.

“Who said you could speak?” The guard who had arrived last glanced at him with a look of disgust. “King Arlan has been inconsolable these past two weeks. The crown prince’s death has devastated the kingdom.���

Unable to help himself, Aerin snorted. “Of course.” Bitterness wrapped around his heart once more. “Poor, poor Baldur.”

Pain burned throughout his body, the Nerada Stone still fused to his chest. It had grown worse since he awoke here, in this dark cell, his only companions the rats that shrank back in fear whenever they wandered too close.

“How dare you speak his name. You tarnish the good reputation of Morella through your very existence.”

Those words may have hurt once, but Aerin no longer cared. Morella was not a great kingdom. Humans, elves, orcs, they were all weak. Any goodness that may have remained had long been corrupted, and the world didn’t need his help for that to happen.

“Please, do tell me more of how much of a traitor I am.” He was growing tired of this daily routine. It seemed many of the guards felt it necessary to remind Aerin of his sins, as if he wasn’t already aware.

The guards ignored him, chatting amongst themselves while Aerin stared at the wall across from him. It was damp, water gliding down the stones, staining them a dark gray. Outside, the sounds of life raged on.

This was the way things had always been. For as long as he could remember, he had been cast aside. Forgotten. Treated like a foolish child. No one pitied the younger prince.

Resentment bloomed inside his chest.

“Some of the heroes left, but others remain.” The whisper was so low, he believe he may have imagined it.

Aerin looked up, locking eyes with the one guard who often gave him snippets of information. To his surprise, the guard gave him a smile, even if it was a weak one.

Perhaps kindness wasn’t completely lost in this cursed world.

“Do you know who remains?” he whispered back, directing his attention on the two other guards, who were engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

The guard glanced at his companions briefly before turning back to Aerin. “The two siblings, I believe. And the priestess.”

The two siblings. Those were the only three words he needed to hear.

Raine was still here. She had not yet left. Maybe—

“Alright, let’s go! I doubt the little prince can do much anyway. Someone can stand guard nearby.” The rudest of the men walked past the cell, pounding a fist against the bars before he disappeared from sight.

Not much later, the other two followed, leaving Aerin in silence once more.

Tears started to well in his eyes, and he wiped them before they could fall. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. He had failed. The Shadow Court was in pieces. Now, he would spend the rest of whatever life he may have left trapped in this cell.

Alone. Hated. Abandoned.

Memories of his first encounter with Raine and her friends in the Deadwood haunted him. He remembered their first kiss. In those fleeting moments, he had allowed himself to believe that people might value him more than Baldur. For the first time in his life, he had been shown kindness.

---

Everything about the situation felt like magic. The air came alive, and Aerin could forget for a moment about the pain that burned throughout his body when Raine looked at him.

She gave his hands a tight squeeze, shifting closer until her lips brushed against his.

Wow. He was sure he said something without realizing it, a flicker of joy igniting deep within as she kissed him again. Aerin never wanted it to end.

When Raine said that she was glad they understood each other, even more hope worked its way into his heart. Perhaps he was not as alone as he had thought. Perhaps someone truly could understand him. The thoughts stayed with him until they parted ways. Then, the pain returned.

Do not forget the objective. The words hissed inside his mind, and he glanced back at Raine’s tent, narrowing his eyes.

How was it that this young woman could cast doubt on him?

“Growing quite fond of the peasant, are you, pipsqueak?” Baldur’s voice induced rage that Aerin had to try his best to ignore. “Can’t say it surprises me. Of course you would associate with those scum.”

Aerin tried to walk away, but Baldur grabbed him by the back of his tunic and yanked him backward.

“When your future king speaks to you, you are expected to answer. Or shall we visit the good old days, brother?” Baldur stared into his eyes, malice reflected in them.

One day, Aerin would make Baldur pay. But today was not that day.

He tried not to retaliate when his brother shoved him so hard, he fell to the ground. Ever since childhood, things had always been this way. And no one cared.

No one cared that the younger prince was bullied by the crown prince. King Arlan even encouraged Baldur at times, brushing the abuse off as child’s play. No one could see him for what he truly was. A coward. An imbecile. A fool.

“They saved our lives,” Aerin said, brushing the dirt off his tunic as he rose to his feet. “How else should I treat them?”

Baldur started to approach, his face twisted into a sneer. “Just you wait until we return home. I—”

“Is there a problem here?”

Both princes turned their heads in the direction of the voice. The orc watched them, a scowl on her face when she looked at Baldur.

“N-no—” His brother fumbled over his words, his eyes wide.

Aerin hid a smirk when Baldur scurried away, the terror giving him amusement. “Thank you,” he said to Imtura, who grunted in response and focused her attention elsewhere.

Once he was alone, the smile dropped, and he leaned against a tree, trying to steady his breathing. The Stone fused to his chest caused constant pain. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it would not go away.

But it was a price he was willing to pay to become the King of Shadow.

The Dreadlord was his one friend. Before this, Aerin had no purpose. He’d been little more than his older brother’s punching bag, forever ignored by the rest of the court.

Soon enough, he would have all he needed. The shards would help him to return the Shadow Court to glory. Finally, people would bow to him. He would no longer live in his brother’s shadow, forced to endure endless torment and abuse.

His time was coming.

---

The people above ground continued going on with their lives while Aerin sat in darkness.

Time lost all meaning in the dungeons. Sunlight could no longer reach him here.

“You have a visitor.”

Aerin looked up at the sound of the guard’s voice, trying to conceal the surprise he felt at that statement. “Who?”

Without answering the question, the guard craned his neck back and called out down the dark hallway. “He’s ready to see you!”

“What? You didn’t answer my question! I—” Aerin paused mid-sentence when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, her lips set in a hard line. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, speaking her name in a breathy tone. “Raine.”

Her hair was in its usual low bun, parted down the middle. The last signs of her injuries from the fight were fading, the bruises just visible in the dim lighting.

“Aerin.” For a moment, emotion flickered across her face, but she composed herself so fast he may have imagined it. “How are you?”

He grinned, looking around the cell. “Well, I’m alive. How are you?”

“Listen, I—” There it was again. The conflict. Raine cleared her throat, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It is not too late to change. The Dreadlord is gone. You don’t have to worry about your brother anymore. We—”

“You have five minutes. That is all we can give you.” Aerin focused his attention on the guard, sending him a glare that was enough to make the man retreat. “Ten minutes,” he said as he hurried down the hallway.

As soon as they were alone, he looked at Raine again. “You lied to me. You said you’d still have me, even as I am. And you lied.”

She uncrossed her arms, and the stony expression fell away. “I didn’t lie. Aerin, I do care about you. That moment we shared in the forest was real. But what you were doing was wrong. We couldn’t let you win.”

“You’re just like the rest of them. No one understands me.” He turned away, regretting that he had spent the past two weeks awaiting her visit.

Raine watched him without speaking a word. The water continued to drip onto the stone floor, creating a quiet melody.

“I know that the Aerin I fell for is still in there.”

The words made him inhale sharply, and he turned to look at her. Had they crossed paths sooner, perhaps everything would be different.

She made him forget about his terrible childhood, of the abuse he’d faced at the hands of Baldur. Only Raine had shown him true affection. She almost made him want to believe in the Light. That things could get better, if only he had the courage to fight off the fragments of corruption and evil that were intertwined with his soul.

“That Aerin wasn’t real. I stopped believing in the goodness of the world a long time ago.” He wanted her to leave. To let him live out what little time he had left in silence.

Raine stepped closer, wrapping her hands around the cell bars. “Your father sent me here to try and talk some sense into you. He told me that none of what happened was your fault, that the Onyx Shard—”

“Do you have any idea how it felt to spend my entire childhood beaten by my brother as my father stood by and did nothing?” Aerin refused to look her in the eye. “All I ever dreamt about was having someone who loved me. I found that in the Dreadlord. He promised me power. He told me that I would no longer be weak, that I could find a family who cared about me when the people of Morella did not. How could you possibly understand how that feels?”

“I—” Raine shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip as she searched for the words to say. She remained just outside the cell, watching him. After some time had passed, she opened her mouth to answer. “I don’t understand how that feels, you’re right. But you’re wrong when you say no one loves you. Or that the Shadow Court was a family that cared about you. I’m here to help you. You don’t have to live in fear anymore.”

They both tensed when footsteps pounded on the stone toward them. Raine turned to look, frowning as the guard approached.

He spared Aerin a quick glance before returning his attention to Raine. “Time’s up. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Wait! Just—hey!” The guard grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her away, but she elbowed him in the side, flinging herself against the cell door. “Aerin, I believe in you, okay? I know that—”

The guard grabbed her again, and she once more fought him off.

“I’ll come back to see you again. You aren’t alone. I—”

This time, the guard grabbed her around the waist and heaved her back. Raine tried to fight him some more, but he called for backup. Together, three guards dragged her away from the cell, all the while she continued to yell promises.

“I’ll return!” Her final words echoed throughout the dungeon, followed by the sounds of a struggle as the guards carried her off.

Once silence rushed back in, Aerin struggled to his feet, crossing the cell to the door. He peeked outside, unsurprised to see the dungeon empty. If he listened close enough, he thought he might hear the sounds of a continuing fight overhead.

You aren’t alone.

It was too good to be true. Part of him didn’t believe her words. And yet, he wanted to take consolation in that statement. Perhaps Raine really did mean it when she said she cared.

Aerin shook his head and started to laugh. His laughter rang out in the cell, and for the first time in years, he felt hopeful.