#then i thought about a human but decided no so... heres this

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[tr1nd2de]

Justice League & Captain Marvel

I was watching some fanfics about Captain Marvel with the league, and I thought what if the captain didn't lie to them?.

Usually this situation between the league and the captain is portrayed in a way where the captain lies to the league.

but what if it was the other way around, what if he decided to tell the truth or at least part of it.

In another end of the league meeting, and in another normal conversation about family and personal life.

Superman: Jon is doing well on the Titans, and is behaving himself after running away on a mission with Damien. Speaking of which, how is your son Bruce?

Batman: As always, not seeing the problem with this, he thinks he executed the mission very well, with some setbacks. But in the midst of all this trouble I'm happy that he's making friends.

Flash: My nephew Wally is doing very well at the science fair and is getting faster and faster, one day he will pass me, but what about you J'onn, how is your niece?

Martian Manhunter: She's doing well, her relationship with Conner is helping her adapt to Earth. But what about you, captain? Is there anything interesting happening in your life?.

Captain Marvel: Oh not really, my best friend has a family now so I'm just kind of lonely.

Green Arrow: Your best friend? You never told us you had a best friend. I mean, you never tell us anything about yourself.

Captain Marvel: I don't say anything about my life because there's nothing interesting to tell.

Green Arrow: Are you sure? Could you tell us where you live?

Captain Marvel: I don't have a house, I live on the streets actually.

wonder woman: on the streets!?, Where do you sleep then, I mean do you need to sleep?

Captain Marvel: I usually sleep in some abandoned building, when I'm not in a building I'm on the Rock. And no, I don't need to sleep, but I like to feel human.

Flash: Wait, do you at least have a job?

Captain Marvel: No, for a long time it was because I wasn't old enough for it, then it was because I had no education, then came the powers and wisdom of Solomon. Finally I could have a job since I know a lot of things now, but I don't wear a mask so it wouldn't work. But hey, the work of a hero and champion doesn't stop so I'm fine.

Aquaman: So you don't have a job or a home, Captain, do you have a family?

Captain Marvel: They died in an accident at work, my father, my mother and sister, they all died I'm only here because at the time my grades were bad and I got sick. I was left with my uncle who stole my parents' inheritance and threw me out onto the streets.

So I went from foster home to foster home, one worse than the other, then I ran away and lived on the streets for a long time, then I started the wizard and he gave me his powers... the end.

Captain Marvel: Anyway, I'm going to Fawcett now, my life story has been told and your curiosities have been satisfied. Have a good day.

Flash: Fuck...

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hate You (Kidding)

Crowley & daughter!reader, Sam and Dean & witch!reader, a little Rowena & granddaughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: your dad abandoned you years ago, but what happens when he finds out you’re still alive?

A/N: just so no one gets confused about this, here’s the background—Crowley found out how powerful demon/human babies can be, so he tried to make one, only it didn’t go the way he planned—the baby (you) were born without powers, and so he abandoned you. (Just because I didn’t want to give this the exact same backstory as Crowley’s son)

The theft was not going well. Your grandmother had made it seem so easy—sneak into the bunker, grab the black spell book, and make it out fast.

She failed to mention the two professional hunters that lived there.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to assume it would be empty—there had to be a reason Rowena wasn’t going herself, after all; she was scared. But you weren’t ready for Sam and Dean Winchester.

They had you in their dungeon basement—which was super creepy—before you’d even managed to find the book, much less grab it.

“What were you looking for, kid? Who sent you here?” The shorter—but no less scary—one had his hands on the sides of your chair, and he was looming over you. You had no doubt that he was willing to hurt you—you did break into his very dangerous house, after all.

You kept quiet, still unsure what the best course of action was. If you told them about the book and Rowena, would they let you go and go after her?

Then again, you didn’t know anything about these guys—maybe once they got their information, they’d just kill you.

You decided to stay quiet.

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand on the arm of your chair, and you flinched. “I said—“

The man stopped yelling when the lights went out. They flickered back on a moment later, only this time they were red.

“Someone’s here,” the tall one said.

“I’ll go check.” The man in front of you pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and turned to leave, saying to the tall one “watch her.”

Then it was just you and the giant—who, surprisingly, seemed a little less scary. He was definitely intimidating, but he also had a sort of “I don’t hurt children” vibe about him.

“This will all be easier if you tell us what you were after,” he broke the silence.

“Right, because you’ll have a reason to keep me alive after I tell you everything,” you scoffed.

“We won’t have a reason to kill you, either,” Sam countered.

“And you need one?” You questioned.

“What makes you think we’d just kill you for no reason?” He asked.

“I mean I did break into your house, and you are hunters.” You shrugged as best you could with your hands cuffed behind you.

“I’m Sam,” the man said, crouching down so he was more on your level—he was trying to look less intimidating, which surprised you. “That other guy is my brother Dean. We are hunters, but we’re not gonna just kill you for no reason. We’re not like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the door opening cut you off.

“Look who came for a visit.” Dean stepped into the room with a man trailing behind him. As soon as the man stepped into the light, every bit of air left your lungs.

“Didn’t know you had a visi—“ Crowley’s sentence froze halfway out of his mouth when he laid eyes on you.

Dean’s suspicious gaze picked up on the awkwardness instantly.

“You two know each other?”

Crowley gained his voice back first. “Used to. Not so much anymore.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” You found the strength to speak after you heard Crowley’s words. “You still look just as pathetic to me, father.”

“Father?” Dean choked. “Wait, that’s not possible.”

“I thought you were dead.” Crowley was now completely ignoring the Winchesters. “After…after that incident I figured the demons would’ve—“

“Incident?!” You all but screamed. “Incident? Is that what you call you abandoning me? Leaving me for dead? An incident?”

“I had no choice,” Crowley argued. “When the other demons found out you were powerless—“

“The other demons? It wasn’t about the other demons, it was about you! You used my mother to make yourself a half demon, and when I didn’t turn out to have any powers you threw me away. You wanted your demon friends to kill me.”

“No.” Crowley was brushing past Sam and Dean now, coming to stand directly in front of you. You squirmed in your chair, but you couldn’t get further away from him. “No I didn’t. I thought if I got rid of you, they’d have no reason to kill you and—“

“Don’t lie to me!” You cried out. “I’m not stupid! You may not have wanted me dead, but you sure didn’t abandon me to try to save me. You did it because I was useless to you. Pretending otherwise is just…it’s just pathetic.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to say—he knew you were right.

“So you’re half demon with no powers?” Dean cut in. “Because I’ve met a half demon who could do anything he wanted just by thinking it.”

“Why do you think he wanted to make me?” You forced your gaze away from your father to look at Dean. “He wanted an all powerful being that was also fully dependent on him. Too bad for him, not all half demons are the same, and he got stuck with the powerless one.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” Sam cut in.

You bit your lip. You should’ve known it would circle back to this.

“Look, we’re not gonna hurt you if you tell us,” Sam promised.

“Fine.” A sly smirk lifted onto your face as your eyes went back to your father. “I’m here to get a book. For my grandmother.”

Crowley was still choking on air while Sam and Dean shared a meaningful glance before turning back to you.

“Rowena? You’re working for the witch?” Dean’s reaction told you that he both knew Rowena and probably hated her.

“She’s the only reason I’m still alive,” you said. “When he—“ you were inclined your head towards Crowley “—left me behind to get killed by demons, she saved my life.”

“My mother knows you’re still alive and she never told me?” Crowley scoffed. “It’s just like her.”

“She didn’t tell you because I told her how much I hated you.” You glared at Crowley as you spoke. “She understood the feeling, and we had a mutual understanding. Anyway, she told me she would teach me to take out demons the way she can—“

“But let me guess—only if you steal a spell book from us and bring it to her,” Dean interrupted.

“She said it was the only way she’d be able to teach me,” you defended yourself.

“She lied,” Crowley butted in. “She always lies—she was using you to get that book.”

“Oh, right, because you’re so trustworthy,” you shot back. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t think it’s a little strange that the first thing she does with you is send you to a place where you could get hurt, just to get something for her?” Sam argued. “You don’t think that that’s using you?”

You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again it was more subdued.

“I didn’t have any other choice. There are still demons out there who want me dead, and I’m totally and completely helpless.”

“You don’t have to be,” Crowley said. “I can help you.”

“Rowena may not be a saint, but I already know I can’t trust you,” you snapped. “I’m not looking to get abandoned again.”

“She had to know you’d get caught.” Sam seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. “So why…”

The Winchesters seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time, sharing a moment of telepathic connection before they turned and ran out the door.

“Do they do that a lot?” You wondered.

“You have no idea,” Crowley huffed. “I suppose I should find out what’s wrong.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The sudden smirk on your face made Crowley nervous. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you fell for that whole ‘totally and completely helpless” thing.” As you spoke, Crowley saw a faint glow coming from your hands, which were still handcuffed behind you. After a moment, he heard a snapping sound, and suddenly both of your hands were free and you were standing up. “Do you really think Rowena sent me here with no knowledge of magic?”

With a single wave of your hand, you sent Crowley flying against the wall. He landed with a thud, and you stepped over his frame on your way out the door.

“See you soon, father.”

…

Rowena had escaped with the book by the time Sam and Dean got to the library—she had waited until everyone was in the dungeon to make her move—and by the time the boys got back to the dungeon, Crowley was on the floor and you were gone.

“Great,” Dean growled. “She tricked us. I hate witches!”

“For once,” Crowley groaned as he slowly sat up. “I agree with you.”

…

“The Winchesters.” Your nervous gaze met your grandmother’s as you watched her flip through the spell book. “It’s them, they caught up. What now?”

“We need to distract them long enough for me to get through this spell,” Rowena insisted. “I won’t even need the book anymore as long as I can get this spell done.”

“I’ll distract them.” You were halfway to the door when Rowena stopped you.

“No, you’re not strong enough, not like this.” The way your grandmother was staring you down made you nervous.

“Like this?” You asked.

The door blasting open after a swift kick from Dean Winchester seemed to make up Rowena’s mind.

“I’m sorry, dear girl, but it’s the only way,” she said. “Impetus be—“

“Not so fast, mother.” You father appeared out of nowhere just behind Rowena, and he snatched up the spell book she was holding and swung it at her—she went down without another word. “I’m the only one that gets to hurt my brat.”

You didn’t say anything—you were still shaking. “Impetus beastiarum”—that’s what Rowena had been trying to say. Your own grandmother was going to turn you into a rabid monster—and ultimately kill you—just so that she could get away.

“The book.” You flinched out of your daze when Sam Winchester brushed past you and held his hand out to your father.

“Of course, moose,” he answered. “What would I need with a witches book?” He passed it over without argument.

“Why did you save me?” You demanded, sidestepping the taller Winchester to get a good look at your father, who merely shrugged.

“I’m the only one that gets to kill you.”

…

The Winchesters, of course, wanted to grab you after the little incident, but you flung them against the wall with your powers—one of the few tricks your grandmother had managed to teach you, and currently your favorite—and left before they got the chance.

You didn’t see them or your father for several more months. When you saw Crowley again, you were running for your life.

Somehow word had gotten around that a great witch had a granddaughter; or maybe it was that the king of hell had a daughter—you didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that an archangel was after you because of it, and you had tried to cut a deal with him.

It hadn’t worked.

Lucifer had wanted you because he thought you’d be useful, and when he found out you weren’t, he of course decided that killing you was proper punishment for wasting his time.

You were in the midst of running for your life when you saw your father.

He was chained to the floor like a dog, watching your exchange with the archangel with peaked interest.

“Conteram hoc cincinno,” you yelled as you ran—it worked, and the chains at Crowley’s wrists snapped; they were warded against demons, not witches.

The freeing of his prisoner was enough of a distraction to get Lucifer off your tail. By the time he remembered you, you were out the door, and when he tried to turn his attention back to Crowley, the demon had already teleported.

…

“What was that?”

You jumped in surprise when your father appeared next to you.

“An escape,” you huffed out.

“You saved me back there.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you demanded. Crowley just grinned at you.

“Maybe witches aren’t so bad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[daydreamerwoah]

Family Tree (Chapter 2)

Adding on to the next story I want to work on :)

Simon x Y/n <3

Taskforce 141 had just gotten back from their usual mission in Al Mazrah. The guys were exhausted but satisfied with the outcome of successfully taking down another terrorist that had stormed the area. Kate Laswell had just finished debriefing the team on everything when Kyle "Gaz" Garrick asked if they wanted to grab drinks with him and his girlfriend. She was getting off work soon and was very much excited that he was back safe - a slight celebration, what she called it. John "Soap" MacTavish immediately agreed because he wasn't about to turn down an offer for a good Scotch. And while John Price would have just gone home and had a cigar before heading to bed, he decided to go as well. 

All that was left was Simon "Ghost" Riley. The mysterious man who liked to be alone... most of the time. But he'd never turn down a chance to get a bourbon. It took a bit of convincing from Soap - Johnny as he usually called him - to get him to tag along, but he finally gave in. A short huff - that was muffled by his balaclava - falling from his mouth as he shook his head at the sergeant's antics. 

Their usual spot was a pub that was on the other side of town. The locals usually cramped the space, but sometimes, a few soldiers from the base would make the drive to grab a drink and some food. Every once in a while, the owner - an older man who was probably in his 70s, would conversate with the team, having been in the SAS many years ago himself. He'd tell stories about his time in war and service, often making people smile or laugh with his jokes that went along with them. It also wouldn't be as busy as it was with the other pubs that were closer to the base or in the center of town; it was also close enough to each of their homes as well. 

"Baby!" a woman's voice somewhat shouted throughout the bar as Ella pranced in the place and hugged Kyle tightly as soon as she greeted him. She was usually a calm person, but whenever she hadn't heard from her boyfriend in over two weeks, she'd always worry. But there he was with his boys, alive and well; tired but well. 

As they settled into their seats and their drink of choice was brought to them, a weight felt like it was lifted off of their soldiers. They were finally able to relax after spending two weeks fighting, shooting, and sleeping on the fucking ground. 

"How's work, Ella?" Price asked after taking a sip. 

"It's good. Have a new girl that started two weeks ago. She's nice.. quiet, but nice," she giggled. 

"So, like L.T., huh?" Johnny teased, making the others laugh. Even somewhat of a chuckle escaped Simon's lips, although it was muffled by the balaclava. 

Everyone knew that Ghost was a quiet man; an intimidating man. If anyone ever got a chance to even be in his presence for more than a minute, they'd say he was a grumpy ass human being, rarely talked, always gave an answer with a hum or a curt nod, and probably was a real ghost since no one had really ever seen his face before. But those who knew Simon well (which was really just 141) would say he was someone who had gone through a lot of shit in his past, he had a good heart and supported his team, and he had incredibly dark humor. Sometimes, making them indulge in one of his awful dad jokes. 

So it was truly was funny that Johnny made the joke about Ella's coworker being like him; quiet. He even knew that he really was. 

"She just moved here from America cause of family. I tried to get her to come have a drink, but she said she had something to do," Ella said, "Maybe next time you guys can meet her."

They all hummed and continued sipping on their drinks, letting the thoughts of the mission slip further and further away from their minds until they had to think about it at a later time. Ella talked about a few things about work, which was always good for them to listen... at least they didn't have to talk about their own work.

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

When Simon made it home, the first thing he did was unpack his duffle bag with his gear in it. From the hard-shell skull mask he wore to his toothbrush, everything was put back in its place before he stripped out of his clothes and turned the water on in the shower. While it needed time to at least get warm, he glanced at his body in the bathroom mirror. The dark purple bruises that covered his left shoulder and the side of his abs made his pale skin look odd. Well, it was definitely odd to anyone else, but for him, he was used to coming back home with cuts and bruises all the time. No bullet at least, he thought, remembering the last time he came home with bandages on the same shoulder from when he caught a stray bullet on the last mission. Being what he was - who he was - came at the cost of injuries and pain. He was lucky that death hadn't caught up to him since the last time he thought he was going to die years ago. But it was the life he chose.

No. It was the life that chose him. 

Sighing, he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water from the shower to encase all over his head, face, and body. It was... peaceful in a way. The only time he ever got to really think about anything in his life was the time he would take a shower after coming back from a mission. Each second he washed the grime and dirt off of his body with the wood-scented soap, he thought about his past. He thought about his family - or the lack thereof. Family. A touchy subject that he tended to stay away from. Hardly anyone knew about what happened to them; their deaths. And he kept it that way. It wasn't because of doing what he did after he found their bodies... it was just something that he had no desire to even bring up... with anyone. 

After his shower, he could have gone to bed, but sleep was never easy for the man. Once he dried off and put on some sweatpants to cover his lower half, he walked outside on his patio and sat in the chair. He tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the small table that he brought out with him before leaning back in the chair and gazing up at the sky. It was a clear, cool, and breezy night. He should have put on a jacket, but for some reason, the temperature didn't faze him. If he squinted just right enough, he thought he could see the stars that shone through the streetlights in the town. It was peaceful, silent, and lonely. But he didn't complain. He liked being alone. There were times when he couldn't understand how Kyle and Ella had been together for as long as they had. Through the tough missions and long deployments, he thought she would have left him a long time ago. But it wasn't like he could really understand either... he had never been in a real relationship before. Choosing to have one night stands - usually while he was on leave - was something he had grown accustomed to. Especially because it didn't muddle things up. No feelings were attached, and he didn't have to worry about seeing the girl again. 

Pulling out a cigarette from the packet, Simon stuck it between his lips and grabbed the lighter, flicking it to light the cig. The nicotine engulfed his lungs immediately as he inhaled, enjoying the feeling of it going straight to his brain. He knew smoking was a bad habit, but it was one he had yet to even attempt to try and break. Between the stress of missions and being a Lieutenant, the only outlet he had outside of work was a cigarette in his mouth with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Sometimes, he'd watch a football game or rugby match, or he'd listen to his collection of music on the turntable he bought from an old man who was getting rid of some junk. But tonight, he just welcomed the quietness of the air, smoking his cigarette until he finished it. It was going to be a challenge, but he eventually made his way to bed, laying down as he stared up at the ceiling. By some miracle, after an hour, rest seemed to fall over him as he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless but deep sleep. 

The next morning, he was refreshed. His morning cup of tea bringing him back to life a little more as he cooked breakfast for himself. It was nothing special, just bacon and eggs, but it was enough for him. And once he finished eating, he showered and got dressed before heading out to buy groceries. He'd be home for at least the next two months, so stocking up the pantry was better than eating out every single day, even if he could afford it. 

He decided to stop in the cafe that was close to his home to pick up another tea to take while he shopped. He enjoyed their take on the simple tea he usually made at home, so he thought, why not? When he stepped inside, the place was somewhat busy, but no one was standing in line, which was great; he could get his drink and leave. But there was one thing that caught his attention. The flustered and in a hurry woman who was shifting her weight on her feet as she waited for her drink to be called out. 

You. 

As always, you were in a hurry to get to work. Flustered because once again you forgot your umbrella. You slightly cursed the invisible weatherman that seemed to have told you it wouldn't rain today just because last night it was clear. Simon was somewhat surprised to see you again, not that he was purposely looking for you, but there definitely was an awkward interaction the last time he saw you. You basically walked backward into him, stepping on his boot by accident. But god, that soft smile you gave him made his eyebrows draw together a bit. Hardly anyone smiled at him the way you did.. mostly out of embarrassment, but he didn't need to know that. 

When he walked up to the cashier, he could have sworn he felt a gaze on him. Your gaze. And once he placed his order and paid, he turned around, confirming his suspicion that you had been staring at him. Your eyes cutting away, embarrassed for even looking at him. When he walked over to you - the same spot where customers waited for their drinks to be finished - you wanted the ground to swallow you up. At first, you weren't sure if that was the same man you bumped into a couple of weeks ago in the cafe, but the moment he turned around and you saw the black surgical mask over the lower half of his face, your face turned so red. His brown eyes locking on to yours for a brief second made your pulse quicken.

Thank god, your latte was called out, making you scurry over to the counter to grab it before rushing out of the cafe, not even being brave enough to look at him again. It wasn't like Simon had plans to talk to you anyway, but he did think it was slightly entertaining. Maybe one day, if he saw you again, he'd tell you there was no need to feel embarrassed about the awkwardness between you.

Wait, why did he think that?  

It wasn't like you two knew each other, but he didn't like the feeling of making you feel super uncomfortable if he could help it. And that was odd. It made his mind draw a blank for a split second before he internally shook his head. Still, his drink order was called out and he grabbed it before heading to the store. 

What do we think about chapter 2? Still not sure about details on how I want to go with this. I have ideas but let me know if yall are still liking this after this chapter lol! This is going to be a SLOW BURN so just know it's gonna take a while for reader and Simon to develop feelings :)

Taglist: @simp-4-masked-men @dayrin085 @jessicab1991 @kylies-love-letter @kalypsoox @brownlee-22 @firefoxkairan

[ceasarslegion]

I am aware of the irony of soap boxing about this but it's entirely possible to soap box too much, and lean into buzzkill territory where it becomes very hard to talk to you and therefore very hard to want to talk to you at all. I saw this happen a few times when I went to a con recently, which turned me off of wanting to go up and ask for the exhibitors tumblr URLs to see if they wanted to hang out more.

Specifically, I went to an anime trivia panel that included a bunch of classics like Cardcaptor Sakura, Ouran High School, Berserk, etc. Whenever one of these shows were mentioned the exhibitors went off on weird tangents to make absolutely sure everybody in the room knew how problematic they thought they were and how they don't support anything that the shows obviously (/s) did, in case you were wondering. They also made weird comments about a lovely artist who had a sign saying she had an nsfw flipbook and had no real limits for commission orders because "what if the kids here saw that??" I was thinking of going to anime karaoke until they said they were hosting that one, and I decided not to because I was put off by the possibility that they would take some kind of moral issue with whatever anime op I tried to sing.

Another one I went to, someone shared that the nanowrimo website had tons of worldbuilding and character resources and one of them INTERRUPTED HER to lean into the mic and make sure everyone in the room knew they didn't support nanowrimo and thought they were really bad and awful and that no one should use them, and the whole room felt really awkward because we were like dude??

And recently I stopped talking to one of my coworkers because he takes some kind of moral issue in every little thing I show him. I told him to watch Madoka Magica and he made it all the way to the op before slamming me about how he thought it was pedophilic and a slippery slope and "how could you watch something like that???" and refused to hear anything about how not all nudity is sexual and human bodies are just human bodies sometimes.

This makes you so freaking hard to talk to man, sometimes I think people should stop being so obsessed with if other people will think they support the worst possible interpretation of something and just chill the fuck out. It's not that deep if someone has fond memories of Ouran High School, it's just an anime. It's not that deep if someone remembers a place to get resources, it's just a website. It's not that deep if a show shows actual human bodies in non-sexual settings. Calm the fuck down.

[emmabirb8]

Bill Cipher really is the funkiest little guy, isn't he?

He's a demon. He had parents. He destroyed his home dimension save for one singular atom. He was born different from the rest of his people and could see in 3D. He's a narcissistic maniac. He misses his mommy. He's a cruel, manipulative asshole. He accidentally got a little too attached and fell in love with a human, then had a drunken meltdown when they broke up. He created a throne of frozen human agony and tried to kill two twelve year olds.

He's incredibly lonely.

Personally, my biggest takeaway from The Book of Bill is the confirmation that my suspicions about him are (most likely) correct. Bill Cipher is miserable. He's been miserable since losing his family and entire home dimension, and everything he's done since then is nothing but one big attempt to distract himself from his mistakes.

Like, okay. I get that Bill is a master manipulator. He's a big fat liar, and everything he says and does is meant to be taken with a grain of salt. He wants readers and viewers to feel bad for him. He wants us to sympathize and woobify and get attached so he can use that to his advantage. BUT ALSO, I think The Book of Bill still sheds light on the fact that he IS broken deep down.

Everything that we know of Bill is almost entirely a meticulously constructed facade. He's a faker. He's all smoke and mirrors. He suffered a massive trauma (whether it happened on purpose or by accident is up for debate since he is nothing if not a horrendously unreliable narrator), and he had to find some way to cope. So he decided to live in denial. Denial of his failures, his true feelings, and, ultimately, everything that he is. He described the "entity" that destroyed his home dimension as a "monster," and, knowing what we know, that's what he believes about himself. He told Ford the answer of who that entity was would "eat [him] alive" and, in actuality, I think that was more of a thinly veiled admission that his deep-seated guilt over what he did eats him alive. Bill buried that guilt, all those negative feelings, all his mistakes deep, DEEP down, and then decided that if he was a monster, he might as well be a damn fierce one.

Bill became great at manipulation because that was the key to making his whole scheme work -- if he could control what everyone thought of him, make people fear him, bend them to his will and squeeze whatever he can out of them, he could be the meanest, nastiest, most cunning monster to ever exist, and he could keep living in denial. They can't make fun of you for your differences, for being weird (something I suspect happened to him in his home dimension) if you're the KING of weird and can kill with the snap of your fingers. If they fear you, they won't look too closely, into the tiny minuscule cracks in your facade, and see the painful truth.

Bill leaned hard into his role as Nightmare Demon to fool himself into believing all of that too.

But like I said, he's lonely. He has no one (besides his "henchmaniacs," but they're no substitute for real connection). I find it SO interesting how he speaks to Ford in The Book of Bill. "We both know you don't really want to be left alone. Admit it, you LOVE how important I make you feel. . . . [N]obody else really gets you, do they? Without me, you'll always feel unseen, surrounded by dolts who don't recognize your true potential. You've always felt alone in a crowd, haven't you? . . . you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?" -- I think he's projecting. Those are all things that are true about himself and his connection to Ford, but he's pinning it on Ford because he can't bring himself to face it head on.

Bill Cipher is a villain. He's evil. He's a demon. He really did ALL OF THAT.

But he is also a pathetic dorky sopping wet meow meow of a character who is constantly desperately trying to run away from himself.

And now, in the Theraprism, he has no access to his usual coping mechanisms. He has no choice but to finally face reality and figure out a way to do what he's been avoiding doing for literal millennia: to just be.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 ... Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk? 

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up! 

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

Divider by: @saradika 

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid

[nekohime19]

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with?

Idk what happened but I just had the funniest idea ever and I just had to write it. So basically it's a reddit post style short story with Wukong's pov. It's an interactive story so the comments will be used as the answers. There will probably be a part two (maybe even a part three) but I don't think I'll write more than that.

Shadowpeach is the end goal and we don't forgive cheaters in this household.

Also sorry Spider Queen, love ya.

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with?

Okay, so I'm not used to this internet madness but my successor once said it could help sometimes so here I am sharing drama.

So I (5000, He/him monkey immortal) have been dating this other person we'll call Venom (??, She/her, spider demon) for quite some time. And I've been quite happy with her. I know I'm not the most… upfront with things and I have issues (like a lot) but she liked me and we worked well together.

But then we got into more arguments when I began to train my successor (21, he/him, human???), we'll call him… Bud, just because.

The thing is, Venom got this whole world domination plan, which is kinda normal for demons. A lot of demons do that. And it never really bothered me because I was retired (for context I'm a retired hero who used to battle demons a lot). Besides, I had some kind of the same phase in my youth so I just thought it would pass when she'd realize it's kind of a stupid plan, and anyway she never did anything to achieve it.

But then I found a successor, Bud, and I began to train him to protect the city and fight demons, all that heroing stuff. Venom, of course, wasn't happy with that and we began to get into arguments. She accused me of betraying her and I just told her I was a hero from the start so she shouldn't have expected me to agree with her view and all.

Things got really bad when Venom decided to pull a end-of-the-world shit show on New Year when we agreed beforehand to go on a date that day. It felt like she was spiting me. Plus, she destroyed more than half of the city and gave Bud a really awful time so I was, understably I think, very angry with her.

We got on our biggest argument and took some time apart to cool off. But then Venom got back all sweet and said to leave that behind us, so I was very happy and just decided to forget our arguments entirely. I thought she just decided to stop her world domination thing. It wasn't weird for us to do that. Not the first time we got into an argument about heroing and usually we just get back together after a little bit and decide to move on.

But then I started to notice some weird stuff about Venom. Like, she was on her phone a lot more (when she always thought those mortal things were lame before) and she was kinda dismissive and distant. She forgot some of our dates and had some lame excuses, like taking weeks of vacation or something??? When she never did that before.

In hindsight maybe I shouldn't have done that but I'm a monkey you know, so I'm naturally curious. So I took her phone and snooped around a bit.

Turns out Venom was cheating on me with another guy (??, he/him, monkey demon) we'll call him Six. She was seeing him behind my back and all, planning date and calling him “darling”, 🤢. I saw red. Like cheating ???? I know we have our ups and downs but to the point of cheating on me? I was really hurt by this.

So, I don't know, to try to calm down I started to investigate on Six. Like what kind of guy he is? Is he better than me? I was kinda surprised to discover he's another celestial monkey, like I always thought I was the only one?? But also it kinda hurt because Venom was cheating with a cheap dark version of me.

So I got petty.

I wanted revenge. And info. I decided I was gonna confront this Six guy first and pull a Monkey Cop, sussing him out to see if he was aware of my existence and to clarify this situation. Maybe I should have just talked to Venom but, idk, I guess some part of me was dreading the confrontation with her.

So I got to Six workplace with a disguise and all (sunglasses and hoodie). He works in the local theater and, okay, he was kind of good on stage. I'm not gonna lie, he's also kinda cute. Just a little bit. So I approached him at the end of the show, praising him for the performance.

One thing led to another and we kinda took dinner together??? I learned he moved in recently and that he got in a relationship with Venom three months ago (which hurt). But he seemed to genuinely like her and had no idea he was the side piece here. Sooo, maybe I took pity on him, like the guy didn't deserve that? I offered him a bottle and we got waisted. In hindsight, a really bad idea, especially since I have a loose mouth when I'm drunk.

We had a fun night, doing stuff together. He admitted my disguise was shit (which, rude 🙄) and was excited to meet another celestial monkey. We talked about our experiences and we really bonded. Annnd, I got to ruin it and spill the beans, saying the truth about how Venom is in fact my girlfriend.

At first he didn't believe me, but then I pulled pictures and, yeah, he was understandably upset. He kinda looks hot when mad. We got even more waisted and cried and cursed Venom and ate ice cream then we got on my mountain, drank some more of my personal celestial wine collection, and watched Monkey Cop… Then I say “You're kinda cute.” and he says “You too”.... One thing led to another and, yeah, we slept together.

And so now I'm in my bed typing this with the worst headache on earth and with very obvious marks of what happened last night on me. Six is sleeping next to me and I'm questioning my life (and my sexuality???)

WHAT DO I DO????

AITA ??

[randomspagetti]

{The End/A Compilation on This Project}

Summary:

I don't really like the climax I came up with at the time so I'll be adding a new version here. So if It differs from the images that's why, I feel like I made the pages during a time where I just wanted to get the comic over with so it kinda feels generic and half baked.

-

Starting from our last point, with the words of encouragement from the Light of Resolution and the steel force will to get his dad back, Choco manages to land a powerful strike, surprising the ancients and phasing Berserk Cacao.

This leaves space for the ancients to also be able to help, Pure Vanilla gives both Choco and Holly buffs while Holly holds the line and protects them from incoming attacks. By doing so they're able to get closer. Finally, a combined attack is hit to where something finally seems to happen. It's powerful and cuts into the indoor wall of the citadel. The smoke dissipates and all that is left is just Cacao.

They're all pretty suprised, but Cacao still has some lingering curse corruption on his body and his breathing is shallow. Hearing the loud crashes from the room the watchers (and Caramel) run in to see the ... interesting situation that had unfolded.

We then cut to Cacao sitting in a hospital room, he had woken up a bit earlier and is trying somewhat to recall the events of the previous day.

Holly and PV soon walk in with mugs, not expecting him to be up. They're caught off guard but soon calm down and get to chatting. Cacao finally admits he's not really doing all so well with both his kingdom and his son over the course of the conversation.

He also sort of opens up about more sensitive issues he's been through, thought he doesn't hold that topic for long given it's just too much for him at the moment. Holly understands where he's coming from and offers some words of encouragement, while PV tells him they're going to look into something for the curse and to actually help Cacao mentally.

Cacao reluctantly agrees.

It ends a bit more open ended with your own interpretation of how Cacao deals with his issues being set, though there would be a few aftermath pages exploring the relationship with the characters shown after the events of the story, this one for example is Cacao and Choco doing pottery painting.

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

Some interesting facts, and stuff I made that didn't make it into the final cut:

-In my discord server berserk Cacao was often referred to as "The enemy spider"

-I often used their hands (so many hand drawings) as a way to show more of their character, Holly has hand scars while PV has a redness around his nails from stress. I like to add a human aspect to each of them so the reader can relate

-Berserk Cacao has had so many iterations before the final one, I just couldn't decide what I wanted him to look like!

-Each character has a different way of showing their thoughts/flashbacks! Caramels are more center focused given her only thought in that flashback was of the loud crash, Choco's are blurry given his eyesight, and Cacao has flashbacks and thinks in grayscale! You can actually notice this more during the dinner scene, this has it's own reasoning but it's bit more darker

-Most of the sketches were 10x more funnier than the finished project but I had to make it realistic

-Affogato was originally going to make it into the comic as a background character, but I felt it was too OOC for him given his devious crimes

Onto the darker stuff-

TW: Implied Abuse, Blood

-Everyone knows about the cut panels but there was actually an entire page scrapped too, originally this would follow along with the Light of Resolution convo (I will now refer to it as the LOR) but I scrapped it for a few reasons.

-Firstly I felt like it didn't add anything and only just re-established something the reader already well knew from both Holly and Cacaos statements, secondly I just felt like it was OOC for how I wrote the LOR. The LOR is in part Cacao. He is Cacao's resolution made physical. This would be his story to tell because he is a part of Cacao. It is Cacao in a way. I also felt revealing his face felt kinda eh and just didn't fit. So for those reasons I chopped it

-Cacao's curse wound was actually bleeding in this scene, though it's a bit hard to see with the shaders

That's all! Thank you everyone for being on this journey with me, I appreciate each and every one of you, you truly helped me expand my art horizons

[draculasfavoritewife]

Idle Hands

Summary: Whenever Tony forgets to go to bed, it's always been up to you to bring him back to your side.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavy on the softness compared to most of my other stuff; I was in a very sentimental (read: sad and touch-starved) mood back when I wrote this lol. Tony Stark is a TEASE both in word and deed -- I have said it is canon therefore it is now. The feral way he makes me feel should be illegal. Also you can read the...implications of my vague wordings towards the end as tame or as smutty as you wish ;)

I feel the need to mention here that Tony Stark has been my most favorite comic book character since I was but a mere 11 years old. He holds the distinction of being my longest-running fictional crush/object of my obsessions and I love him so deeply and for so many little reasons that I could write a PhD dissertation on him. So please enjoy my little love letter to the man that has held my heart for nearly a decade and a half <3

It's that point of the night where you really can't decide if it should be counted as ungodly late or ungodly early. 4:00 am does tend to scramble the thoughts.

You've been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep for what feels like forever, and as you roll away from the digital clock display on the wall with an annoyed sigh, you suddenly see why.

The other side of the bed is utterly untouched.

He hasn't been here with you at all.

You sit up, trying to remember if he had plans tonight. The calendar app on your phone has no record of a gala, awards ceremony, board meeting, or anything else that might have taken up his time.

Which means he's probably down in the lab again.

Briefly, you contemplate trying to call him, but you know from experience that he probably isn't taking calls right now, even if FRIDAY tried to put one through for you. He's in that zone that only designing and building can put him in, the one mindset where his too-busy brain is crystal clear and the world at last makes sense to him.

So you pull yourself out of bed, throw one of his old sweatshirts on over your cami and pajama shorts (he keeps the AC cranked all the way whenever it's warm outside) and pad out of the bedroom and on your way downstairs.

His lab is awe-inspiring as always, no matter how many times you see it. The purring thrum of the generators and the comforting pulse of dimmed lights, the heavy, electric feeling of the air itself -- he's described his workspace to you as having a life of its own before, and you can understand so well why time escapes him down here.

You just hope he's not using it to escape from other things as well.

He's deeply absorbed in his work on something at a station opposite the door, and your heart skips a beat even as you smile fondly at the familiar sight. Clad in sweatpants and a black tank through which you can just barely see the blue glow of his arc reactor, he looks all at once more human than usual and like some being from another world entirely.

It's the Stark curse, he told you once, and you recall the wry slant of his lips as he said so. To know you're a god trapped in a mortal body, an infinite mind with a finite number of years to use it. It's the reason behind all his greatest triumphs -- and all his harshest falls from grace.

And somehow, you were lucky enough to be the one he fell in love with.

It still feels like a dream sometimes.

Realizing he isn't going to look up on his own anytime soon, you stifle a yawn and knock sharply on the doorframe.

"Tony?"

He stiffens as if he's been shocked (always a possibility, when he's rewiring) and shoves the safety glasses high up on his forehead. "That would be yours truly. Everything alright?"

With a laugh, you cross the room, warmth rising in your chest as he immediately sets down his tools and steps out from behind the table to meet you. And damn, he always looks good -- he is Tony Stark, after all -- but there's always something about him when his hair gets all unruly and he has THAT look of intense concentration on his face that really drives home to you all over again just how gorgeous he is.

You cuddle up to him, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Asked you a question, Honey."

"Do you know what time it is, Tony?"

There's a prolonged moment of answering silence as he glances up at one of his nearby monitors. "Crap. Well, why are you up?"

Pulling back slightly so you can tease the protective eyewear off his head, you give him a look. "Can't sleep."

An eyebrow tilts; he's playing dumb.

"And that's my problem why?"

"Jerk." You take your time playing with his glossy dark hair, neatening it back up before raking your fingers through it to mess it up again. "Maybe because you love me...?"

"Oh, so you're down here looking for sympathy, got it." He smirks at you, a well-practiced and infuriatingly handsome look. "In that case, sorry about your insomnia, Beautiful. There's melatonin in the drug cabinet upstairs." He snares the safety glasses from your fingers once more and makes as if to return to his work. "Sympathetic enough for you?"

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, stopping him from going any further, though the smug son of a bitch starts tinkering with his new designs again even through your persistent clinging. It mesmerizes you for a couple seconds, always has, the way his hands work with such delicate precision and dexterity, and you can't help selfishly wishing he would turn them towards other, less...mechanical endeavors at this moment.

He probably would, in all honesty, but Tony Stark is the king of making you work for it. Philanthropic he may be, but some things even you have to earn from him when he's feeling particularly devilish.

"I don't want your pity," you hum, pressing a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. "I was lonely without you."

"Perfectly understandable. I've been told by many that I'm scintillating company. You can, by all means, stay and watch me work, you know. Feeds my humble ego."

You roll your eyes and impatiently reach up under his shirt, feeling his muscles tense at the unexpected coldness of your hands.

That finally gets his attention and makes him turn around. Before you can even fully comprehend it, he's swept his work out of the way and lifted you up onto the worktable instead, restless fingers drawing intricate patterns on your inner thighs, though his eyes never leave yours, crystalline blue pinning your attention to his amused face instead of his very distracting hands.

"That," he grins, "was adorable. Sleepy version of you is so much more demanding. Maybe I should stay down here too long more often."

You try to frown at him, though his sparkling gaze and mischievous touch make that impossible. "How dare you."

"I do a lot of dumb things to see where they get me. You know that." He nods at the thick gray sweatshirt still keeping you warm. "Why don't you take that off for me, Sweetness. You make me cold, I get to return the favor."

Unable to come up with something snarky to say in return with the way his hands are making you shiver now, you do as he suggests with little resistance, the exposed skin of your arms and chest prickling at the much cooler air.

He leans in to tenderly kiss your neck, and your breath leaves in a sigh at the way his facial hair scratches at your throat. He's always been a helluva kisser and the meticulously maintained goatee is just the icing on the cake. Making out on his worktable was not the original plan when you first came down here, but even by his own admission Tony's best plans are usually improvised.

And you're certainly not complaining.

"What did you want from me again?" he murmurs, close to your ear.

The absolute audacity of him.

"Mmmmmmm," seems to be about all you can manage at the moment, and you know very well what's coming next.

He pulls you closer to him, the movements of his fingers turning agonizingly slow and prompting a slight gasp from you.

The smile that gradually spreads its way across his mouth is absolutely wicked.

"What was that, Sweetheart? I didn't quite catch it."

You try to reclaim some semblance of coherence, but his firm hold on you prevents you from escaping his delightfully systematic torture, so instead you grab on to his well-defined shoulders, your forehead resting against his chest. The mechanically-stabilized beat of his heart echoing beneath his skin a brief reminder that he's alive, despite everything he's been through, and he is yours. There's no one else on his mind, no one else he's let this far into his messy and often painful world.

The world may know him as Iron Man, the one who has saved them more times than they could ever count, but how many people really know the Tony that you know?

That same Tony who now raises one hand to tip your head back, whose sharp eyes soften with affection for the slightest of seconds before the anticipated words fall from his tongue, the words he knows will always unravel you.

"You just have to tell me what you want. Come on, Princess. Use your words."

You shudder and lean in to beg for another kiss.

"You, Tony. Always you. Please."

He kisses you back with renewed intensity, leaving you completely breathless.

"There we go...was that so hard?"

[katyspersonal]

God, not to be one of those "hateful anons" but you really need to drop the "holier than thou" type thing on all of your lore posts. As much as I'd love to debunk why half your arguements are overused and don't work, I'll save that because that's not my point.

On almost all of your lore posts you mention at least once how "people aren't ready for stories of this level" or some shit along those lines, and let me ask you this: Why do you think people like you can digest these stories better? You would probably answer something like "Because I can understand these stories unlike these stupid from haters" or something.

You aren't digesting these stories better then anyone else just because you spend 1000 hours looking into what Morgott's moldy toe item description mentions. Like seriously, all this complaining about why the fandom sucks yet youre just like all those "holier than thou" people in the fandom who keep mentioning how THEIR perspective is better then someone else's.

You also keep acting like personal interpretation doesn't exist on some note. Saying how [X] is actually what happened and that people are denying [X].

I looked into your blog because I thought some of your posts were interesting, but it turns out youre literally just like all the other fromsoftware fans you complain so much about. Hopefully this gives you some perspective, I guess.

Nah, it "didn't give me the perspective", because you are the one seriously misunderstanding here. I say that we as a fandom are not ready for Fromsoft stories SPECIFICALLY to criticize fandom behavior.

We as a fandom are not ready for Fromsoft stories because there are people who claim that "Miquella's character was assassinated by bad writing because in the base game he was hyped up to be kind and compassionate", when his arc was a fall from grace. How falling from grace equals writing him to never have had that grace to begin with? We as a fandom are not ready for Fromsoft stories because whenever Fromsoft does not directly state something, fandom splits into two hostile groups each accusing another of media illiteracy or even various -isms and -phobias. (I advice you to ask Gehrman fans from Bloodborne fandom for extra insight on this one) We as a fandom are not ready for Fromsoft stories because when they DO state something directly, the "cool kids" of the fandom decide it was either a bad writing or that they know better, and start to side-eye everyone who prefers canon over their """improved""" fanon. We as a fandom are not ready for Fromsoft stories because Miyazaki's brand of moral ambiguity, admission that there is no clear solution to world's problems and questioning the nature of humanity itself OFTEN falls on the deaf ears.

Like... you do realize that I still consider myself part of the fandom, despite not engaging beyond what is on my feed? That I do not claim that /I/ am ready for Miyazaki's writer genius? Just like everyone else, I can only do my best to TRY to understand him! Nonetheless, I am trying my best to be mature, and encourage maturity in others. It is hard to remain always calm and nice in a fandom that feels like a battlefield, everyone will get a bit rude! The point is to TRY to be better, which most people don't see the need for! I am calling out fandoms bad behavior and refusal to look deeper into story and characters than their habits and preferences, especially because these preferences often lead to conflicts and toxicity, not claiming moral superiority over my headcanons!

Personal interpretations are fair. What is NOT fair is when someone harps on a very well-researched post with easily debunked arguements, basically doing the "your post is nonsense because in my fanfic things are different" on them, and then another person that did not even read the post nor actually researched the lore beyond their preferences passionately agrees.

I'll have you know that I never spent "1000 hours on analyzing". I am autistic, you goddamn coward. I understand some obscure detail in a flash by just looking, or suddenly come up with an insight while busy at work. Sometimes I literally dream a theory or observation! I do not understand where the misconception that everyone needs to spend a lot of time to be hyper-observant about their special interest comes from. However, you believing that about me makes your claim even worse. You seriously just said that analysis of someone who.... well, analysed the lore, is not as valid as analysis of someone who just took scraps of lore they personally enjoyed to create their own thing. How does this make sense, exactly? Again: you'd have SOME point if you spoke against a stuck-up Reddittuber who makes it their daily mission to ruin someone's joy if their headcanon is not 100% accurate to the source, however, so far the inverse has been happening. People who decided something about lore just because it appealed to THEM will go and be rude to people who are trying to be objective. Not only this; I've had my headcanons (!) "corrected" multiple times because they were different from popular fanon!

.........speaking of certain people who think it is okay to harp on someone's lore post to downplay it when they are not even lorediggers themselves.... -_-

The way you glazed through my blog and jumped into an extremely inaccurate conclusion about my personality and attitude reminded me of the same impulsivity when someone took "stop treating Marika as noble hero against Hornsent evil, here are bad things that happened during her reign" as as "just another poorly researched Marika hate 🥺". 🙃 Your obvious vitriol for thorough lore research, your poorly disguised manipulation (you clearly did not think my posts were "interesting" with how much disdain you just expressed FOR them, but you wanted to wound me by faking "disappointment"), and above all, timing. My tone in yesterday's Marika and the fandom rant was in no, NO way different from how I usually speak in my blog! My mutuals (all 8 of them lol) can confirm! Yet I've never received (inaccurate) anon hate for this.. until now. Until recent very unfortunate encounter with extremely shallow individuals that started a debate yet refused to finish it when hypocrisy of the both was pointed out. 🌛

I think I know who you are. :/ 🤔 I'll keep that in mind, and being "prepared" will definitely lessen the effect if you try anything of the sort again, be sure of this.

(At the same time, IF I am wrong and you are just a fan that found me through that interaction, I'll have you know that your lowly cowardice by using anon instead of showing your face has put someone else under suspicion, and it will remain so unless you show yourself. In which case, hope you are proud of yourself. 🤦‍♂️)

[onyichii]

Wakfu x Pokémon Headcanon

I have not played a pokemon game since Pokemon Emerald. I was thinking about Pokemon...then Wakfu...and now here we are!

Now here are our favorite Wakfu characters as Pokémon gym leaders

Amalia the Grass Type Gym Leader of Sadida

Yugo the Dragon Type Gym Leader of Emelka

Percedal the Fighting Type Gym Leader of Sadlygrove

Evangeline the Flying Type Gym Leader of Cra City

Ruel Strud the Normal Type Gym Leader of Bonta (IDK where Ruel is from).

Adamai the Fire Type Gym Leader of Oma Island (I would make Adamai take a human form)

It was hard deciding if Yugo should be a dragon type or not because I can see Adamai also being the dragon type gym leader as well. But I like the idea of Adamai with a fire types as well.

And YES - I have a list of Pokémon I think they would all have. I made a list of 10-ish Pokémon I think they would have as well as their top 5 of that 10.

Am I drawing this? Yes...someday. I'm busy.

I really need to focus on my original characters.

Can you draw this? Yeah, go ahead! If you decide to draw this idea tag me because I wanna see what pokemon you think each character would have!

⭐BONUS: In my Wakfu x Pokemon headcanon, Yugo has a Dragonite that loves Amalia and only tries his best when she is around to impress her.

Back story: When Dragonite was a Dratini, Yugo would often leave him with Amalia to go train his other Pokémon. He felt Dratini was intelligent and strong and didn't need much guidance like his other pokemon. So Dratini was not trained as often. This made Dratini feel neglected by Yugo. Since Dratini is a Dragon type, Amalia would use him to train her grass type pokemon. Even though he was the opponent he got praised and trained under her as well. That is why Dragonite adores Amalia.

I thought that'll be funny and cute to have Yugo's Dragonite burst out of his pokeball when he hears Amalia's voice. 💖

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force • ch 3

Chapter 3 - DARK PREMONITION 

Jake x female reader

Words: 14.1k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

*It's been over a month, and I'm so sorry. Life has been happening fast. Thank you for sticking with me through this one, I hope you're enjoying where this story is going!

Warnings: Dystopian Horror, Cursing, Crying, Suspense, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Violence (& mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Mentions of Forced Beatings, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Lying, Attacks, Deceit, Panic, Mental Anguish

Y/N

Three days, we’ve been in here. Three days since we were all blindfolded and made to sit in the metal-walled room, cold and terrified and confused. Three days since Paps and I had tried to make a run for it, and ended up almost crashing the truck into those black, shadowy creatures.

And three days since I had sat face to face with Jake Kiszka.

They’ve barely let us sleep, let alone see the light of day. On that first night, they’d drug us into a long room lined with cots, not even saying a word to us as we all just assumed we were to lay down and sleep. Luckily I’d found Paps and we were able to get cots beside one another, but the fact that he was able to be close to me still didn’t ease any of the deep, unsettling feelings in my gut about what the hell is going on. 

Paps and I had managed to talk to a few of the other people in the group, and just like us, they were kidnapped by strange, shadowed creatures, too. Everyone described it the same way, like it was out of a horror film. They looked human, sort of, but they didn’t feel it. They were cloaked in hooded robes, and none of us ever saw their faces. They had an aura I couldn’t explain, like they had one foot on earth with us, and one foot somewhere else completely. 

My intuition told me that since they felt so terrifyingly separate from breathing in the same air as me, that maybe they really weren’t of this earth. Fucking outrageous, I thought to myself, but, was it? Honestly, these days, nothing is surprising. 

The men that surround us constantly are dressed in black and armed to their teeth, and they remind me of those scary looking “military” men you’d see on video games, with their night-vision glasses and helmets strapped tightly under their chins. They’re quiet, but they use force at every given chance. I know underneath all of the garb, they’re just men. 

And still yet, I hate them.

They have all of us pushed into this singular room and forced to pretend that everything is normal. I want to scream at them, beg them for answers, be the one who finally lashes out for the rest of the group, but I hold back. I admit, their guns do scare me. 

“Y/N, is that… Jake, over there?” Paps asks me as we sit facing one another on our cots, each of us wrapped in the thin gray blankets they’d supplied us with. “The one that played guitar, right?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah, it is him, Paps. Crazy, right? I can’t even wrap my head around all of this…” The situation we’re in is one that I truly would have never even dreamt up. I find myself thinking I’m crazy, dreaming… or living inside some type of wild mental break from the terror of realizing the world is ending. I feel like I could go to sleep and wake up in my own bed, in my own little cottage back in Cheatham county, and all of this would be a strange and unfond memory. But what little sleep I have gotten the past couple of days has given me no rest at all, only adding to my awful mental state.

“How did he get here, too? I mean, I guess fame doesn’t matter during the apocalypse, but…” Paps is having a hard time understanding, too. I glance over to Jake, seeing him sitting cross-legged on his cot, staring at the floor below him as he’s wrapped in his blanket just as we are. The wounds on his face look better than they did three days ago, but I can still see the scratches and bruises.

A year ago, I’d be starstruck, shaking and giddy with nerves from being in such close quarters with one of my idols. But now, here, we’re on level playing field. We’re all lost and confused, hungry, and terrified. Hostages who can’t decide on our next move. 

“You should go and talk to him,” Paps suggests, his voice gritty. 

“NO!” I almost yell. “I mean, no, I… wouldn’t even know what to say…” I reply, my eyes jumping between Jake and Paps. 

“What do you mean?!” Paps says. 

“I… I don’t know, I mean. The other day when they were taking our blindfolds off, I showed him my tattoos. He recognized them, and he shook his head, telling me no, told me to stay quiet. I dunno, the look in his eye was threatening, like he didn’t–I don’t know. Like he didn’t want to even be associated with me,” I explain to Paps quietly as one of the guards passes by us. 

“What can he even say though, sweetheart? None of us know what is going on, maybe he has some clue? Maybe you could talk to him, he looks…”

It’s true, Jake looks more downtrodden than all of us. He always carried himself with just the right mix of confidence and humbleness, catching the eye of every single person he passed, but now it looks like the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders. He hasn’t spoken to a soul. Has hardly moved from his cot except to visit the one-stall bathroom at the end of the room. I’ll admit, I do feel bad for him, and I have thought about going and speaking to him again, but… the way he looked at me the other day…

“Just go, honey. We’re all just people, here…” Paps urges, reaching his arm out to push my shoulder in Jake’s direction. 

I take a quick deep breath, centering myself as I work up the confidence. This is so strange. I stand up and wrap my arms in the blanket, letting my feet carry me across the cold tile floor. 

I slowly walk to him, approaching him gently, not wanting to startle him from his gaze straight down into the floor. I crane my neck a bit, willing him to look at me. “Jake?” my voice is raspy. 

His eyes, those eyes I stared into for so many years as I watched him on stage, watched him in interviews, watched him fall in love with his instrument over and over again… the warm chocolate brown they used to be are now a sullen, deep black, and I know immediately that the life they once held has started to quickly fade to something else. 

They shoot to look back at me. Fast, while he recognizes me, then back down to the floor. He stirs on his seat. “You shouldn’t speak to me,” he mumbles, and I feel my heart shatter. He’s uneasy again, just like when he saw my tattoos. 

“I—I won’t bother you, if that’s what you want, I… I noticed you haven’t spoken much to everyone else and I just wanted to say hello, not as a, you know… but as a fellow capturee.” 

I don’t even know what I’m saying. Capturee? I’m blabbering. I’m starstruck! Yes, even still in this dark room during the apocalypse I am still…starstruck by him. Captured by his fucking presence, just like I always thought I would be if I ever got the chance to meet him. 

He bites his lips quickly as he avoids me. My hands clench together underneath my blanket, and I realize that what I’d actually said wasn’t that bad, I am truly just trying to reach out. 

After a few seconds, he taps the cot in front of him, inviting me to sit. Though it seems he doesn’t really want me to, I still believe he’s too sweet to turn someone away when they speak to him. 

So I gently sit where his hand was, swallowing hard as my heart rate flies. And within seconds, I’m face to face with him again. But this time, I’m so close, I can see everything that all those photographers over the years just couldn’t capture. He is so fucking…

“I said you shouldn’t speak to me, not that I don’t want to speak back,” he says, gritting out his words as his eyes dart around. 

“I—I’m sorry, I guess I don’t understand—“

Suddenly he grabs my arm in his hand, gripping it from underneath the blanket I hug around myself. He pulls my sleeve back, and quickly takes account of all of my tattoos I’d shown him just two days prior. I let him, his grip fast and sloppy, and I can just barely feel the rough callouses still left behind on his fingertips from all the years of playing his guitar. My stomach falls. 

My arm is resting palm up in his hand as he gazes on it, and I can see his back rise and fall a few times as he takes deep breaths. Then, as quickly as he’d gripped it, he pushes it back to me. I’m speechless. 

“What’s your name?” he whispers, his eyes bouncing to the guards. 

“Y/N,” I reply. 

“You followed us? Back then?”

I nod, “Yeah, I did. Since uh, since Strange Horizons, up until…”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head just a little. I’m off-put by his attitude, and I begin to wonder if he really isn’t as sweet as he’d put on all those years. 

“So it’s safe to assume you’re well-versed with everything we ever made…” he asks, rubbing his hands over his face as the blanket sits over his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’d say I am…I mean, I was one of those people that did the ‘deep-diving’, I’m sure you knew about all that,” I stumble out. 

He nods as he winces at me. A guard walks behind me, and I watch as Jake tenses in his presence, avoiding looking at him, too. 

“Yeah, we knew about that.” His words are clipped, and I’m able to tell, now, that maybe he really doesn’t want to talk to me, even though he invited me to sit on his cot with him. 

“Um, it was…a lot of fun, figuring it all out…when you guys would release something new my friends and I would research and memorize and try and put all the pieces together for the world you’d built. Try to connect the dots, match things up from previous albums and try to project what was going to happen next. I can’t tell you how many theories there were—“

“God…” He scoffs again, rolling his eyes as he leans his head back, huffing an exasperated exhale. The fuck is his problem? He’s kind of starting to piss me off… I didn’t have to come over here and speak…

So I stop where I am, giving him the same sarcastic-ass look he’d just given me, and I begin to stand. “Alright, well it was nice meeting you.”

“No, wait…” his hand is on my elbow. “Sorry, you don’t have to…”

I pause, giving him a questioning look that tells him I don’t feel like my presence is welcome. 

“Please, sit back down,” he says, releasing his touch. I slowly do, wrapping my arms more tightly around myself to match his distant energy. I watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he thinks about what to say next. I’ve never seen him anxious, before. I’m the one that should be anxious. 

“How did they get you?” he asks quietly, this time finally looking me in the eye as he leans in a little closer. 

I push my knotted, unwashed hair behind my ear. “Well, my Paps and I were the only two of my family left, everyone else passed from the rash.” I point my eyes over Jake’s shoulder toward Paps, and he turns to look at him. “We got ahold of someone’s truck, and were heading back toward the city when we ran into these…things….” I try to think back on that experience, really feeling embarrassed that I am about to admit to Jake fucking Kiszka that I think we were abducted by aliens or some shit. Fuck. But, I digress…

“Things?” he asks. 

“Yeah, um. They were like… really tall, shadowy, men? I don’t know, they didn’t feel um. They didn’t feel human, when they captured us. I know that sounds crazy…” I try and awkwardly explain. But, it’s the truth. 

He cocks his head. “They didn’t feel human?”

“No, they felt almost, otherworldly. Like they were only halfway here,” I shake my head, trying to make myself sound like I know I’m crazy. “I dunno.”

But the look he returns to me isn’t what I expected. He doesn’t look at me like I’m insane. He looks at me like he just understood it. Just understood it all. 

“Fuck…” he mutters through his lips, his eyes wide with realization.

“What?” I press. “How about you? Where um, where is everybody else?”

He breaks away from his surprised stare. “I don’t know. Got separated. We were all staying up at some cabins back in Michigan, they came in the middle of the night. We all tried to fight them off, but it was no use. I woke up in the back of a truck, then again in a room like they had us held in when we were blindfolded,” he explains.

I won’t lie, I’m fucking enamored with the way he’s speaking to me right now, even with the heavy subject. I can’t help it. For years, just like every other person as deep in the fandom as I was, I spent my time being enraptured by him and the person he was. Completely taken by him, and possessing a crush unlike any other I’d ever had in my life. We all did. He’s still that man, just a little older, now. A little scruffier, a little more wrinkly. But then again, I’m showing my age, too. 

But I take his words in, picturing the scene and pretending I was there, and the fear he must have felt. How they all must have felt, being kidnapped by those things in the middle of the night.

“Your whole family was there?” I ask.

He nods. “I don’t even know who was kidnapped and who they left behind. But, it was men that took us, just like the fuckers patrolling us right now. They definitely weren’t aliens.” 

Did Jake Kiszka just fucking pick on me?

He smiles just a little bit as he watches me get offended. “I didn’t say they were aliens!” I yelp.

“Shh, shh!” he laughs, pressing his hand gently over my mouth. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly or else you’ll have the whole room freaking out.”

I bite my lips. Hard. Fuck, his hand was just on my mouth. 

I sigh. “I didn’t say they were aliens…” I whisper. “I said that they didn’t feel fucking human, okay?”

He breathes through another little laugh. “I know. I don’t doubt anything at all, these days,” he says. 

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?” I ask, just to clarify.

He takes a breath, looking behind me. “No, Y/N, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

My god, he just said my name. I have got to get my shit together. 

“Good,” I spit. “Because whatever had ahold of me wasn’t a person.”

His face goes white, and I watch his wheels spin. I can tell he believes me and my outlandish description. 

“Everyone up! Single file through the double doors! And stay quiet!” We’re suddenly aroused by the deep voice of one of the guards commanding that we all stand and move toward the doors. They’ve only done this once before, when they fed us what you could describe as a meal of sorts, but the effort it took to choke down would suggest otherwise. My attention is immediately redirected to Paps as I watch him stand and join Jake and I in moving toward the doors. 

“Paps, this is Jake,” I introduce them, and I watch as the slightest bit of a sparkle comes into Paps’ eyes as they shake hands. “Jake, my grandfather, Don.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jake says, and his voice sounds almost normal. 

“Pleasure is mine, son. I uh, quite enjoyed watching you play over the years,” Paps says. 

Jake’s eyes brighten as they look back to me. “Is that right?!”

“I kinda made Paps into a bonafide fan, just like me. He came to a few shows,” I explain, feeling a little shy at admitting this, in this setting.

“Wow, shame we didn’t get to meet before, sir,” Jake says, with a half-smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“Silence!” one of the guards bellows, lifting his baton high in the air before letting it fall directly over Jake’s back. “You weren’t told to speak!” 

I scream out, I can’t help it. Jake falls to the ground in pain and Paps falls to his knees beside him, as they were still holding hands from the handshake. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I yell, falling alongside them as he holds the baton high into the air again, ready for another strike. “Stop!!!”

The baton falls hard onto Jake’s back again before the guard stands back up, moving away from the line and addressing the group. I hear Jake hissing in pain as Paps helps him stand back up. 

“Does anyone else have anything to say?!” the guard yells, and I wish to god I could see his face behind his mask. The group mutters a few quiet no’s. “That’s what I fucking thought! Now move!”

We are all talking, why did they just punish him for it? Paps and I help Jake to stand and follow along with the line, and I feel myself seething with rage. What in the fuck was that even for?! We can’t even speak?

“Are you okay?” I whisper quietly to him. 

“M’fine,” he says, and we nearly carry him down the long, fluorescent-light lit hallway to the next room. It’s strange being around actual electricity again, and I snarl my nose at the fact that they’ve somehow found a way to harness it after the world has suffered so long without it.

After a couple of seconds he pushes our help away and we fall into the single-file line, walking fairly quickly to the room where they fed us before. 

JAKE

They told me they were going to treat me just the same as everyone else, but I never thought they’d be physically harming me out here in front of everyone. If anything, it’s almost as if they’re singling me out instead of blending me in, which kind of defeats the purpose, if they were telling me the truth. I know two of the men on guard with us are the two that spoke with me in the dark room, but I can’t tell if they are the ones using violence against me. Fuck, nothing really makes sense. And all I want is out of this goddamned building so I can find my family.

Now, as they throw us into this room with one singular long table, we gather to eat this sorry excuse of a meal again, all in complete silence. I can’t believe she had the confidence to come and talk to me on the cot earlier after that harsh, wordless look of warning I gave her two days ago when we were unblindfolded. I thought she may have gotten my warning and caught onto my message for her to stay silent, but I guess I have been on the anti-social side of things and probably look like I’ve been hit by a truck. 

Of course I’m locked up in this place with an old fan. Of fucking course. And of course she’s tattooed with all the symbolism we wrote into our music and art over the years, making her an unknown easy fucking target for this shit, if they knew. If they find out that she has just as much knowledge about whatever kind of shit we apparently fucking predicted, then she’s just as much on the road to having that baton over her back as I am. Should I tell her what I know? But even if I did, what would it change? She can’t wipe her tattoos off just as much as I can’t change my name. 

We all sit and eat in silence, all of us eyeing one another as the rest of them look on to me with pity, after having that fucking baton across my back. They don’t know me, I don’t think. None of them, except Y/N, have given me that feeling of being known, yet. 

As I scarf down the bland potatoes and cold canned vegetables, I run over the plethora of thoughts I’ve had for the past couple of days. I scan back to the very last few minutes I had with my family, if there was any detail that I’d forgotten, if there was any inkling I’d heard or missed that could give me any clue as to where they are. But every time I dig, I come up short. 

So then I move along to the conversation I had with those two in the dark room again. All those fucking wild things they told me, making me feel like this all is truly a fucked up dream. Realms? Other worlds? The battle… and the fact that they explicitly explained to me that the ones who live between both of these “worlds” are unlike us, could be the explanation for Y/N saying the ones who captured her felt like they were only halfway here. 

Kinda solidified that for me. She said it perfectly; the ones who captured them must have been the family that exists in both places, the ones who the Two told me were out still capturing immunes. It all adds up. But now, what do I do with all of this? And where the fuck am I gonna find my family?

My heart wrenches everytime I think of them, and how Josh and Sam and Daniel must be being treated exactly the same as I am, about to be pressured for information that we didn’t even know was important outside of our little fantasy music world. All those days Daniel spent locked away in his room, finally understanding that what we’d written was coming true. All of it being tied together… fuck, he was so right. And now we’re being punished for it. Used for it. I can feel my twin’s guilt from here.

I watch as one of the older ladies in the group is forced up by her arm, being pulled into another room. And then the same with the teenage boy. I panic, wondering where they’re taking them, and if we’re all subject to go. The rest of us all glance to one another in fear for a minute or two, until I hear what sounds like rushing water. A shower. Fucking finally. 

I haven’t felt a sense of impending relief like this in weeks. I’m hoping that the water is warm, at least, and they give us a few minutes of privacy to really get the good out of it. I look over to Y/N, and instead of seeing relief on her face, too, I see fear. 

It’s then that I realize there’s the possibility of one of the guards seeing her tattoos. She doesn’t know why, but she knows that based upon my look of warning, maybe they shouldn’t be seen. Now, I’m regretting not telling her. I have to do something. 

I get her attention and place both my elbows on the table, gently pulling my sleeve down with my pointer finger as I point to where her tattoos would rest on her arm. When I’m sure she’s locked in on me, I shake my head side to side, and again I place my pointer finger across my lips. Don’t let them see it, Y/N. Her brows furrow in confusion, and I try my damndest to quietly and secretly make her understand my charade. Finally I watch as realization falls over her, as she nods in return. 

Now I have to explain myself. 

A few minutes later one of the guards pulls me up and walks me to the apparent shower room, thrusting me inside and following me in. It’s even darker in here, which I’m thankful for, and there is a small stall with an old ratted shower curtain in the corner. The rest of the room is all concrete, with a small, cracked mirror on one wall and a tall cabinet on the other. “Undress,” the guard orders as he shoves me behind the curtain. I follow his order, the pull to have fresh water pouring over me more than my want for much else, right now.

The guard stands in the room with me, with his face to the wall. A little awkward, I think to myself as I look around for a shower head. “You gonna join me, or are you just here to make sure I don’t drown?” I ask him sarcastically as I peek from behind the dirty curtain. The water begins pouring from the chrome shower head, and I feel an ecstasy that I didn’t think was even possible, anymore. The water is lukewarm, but I’ll take what I can get.

I spot an old bottle of soap in the corner and help myself, lathering myself up quickly in fear of losing time in this paradise. I wash every crevice and my hair thoroughly, making quick time to rinse so I can spend a few blissful seconds with the water plummeting on my face. “Mmm, sure is nice in here, sure you don’t want to join?” I ask again, trying to egg him on or piss him off. I hum a loud song as if I’m enjoying myself, cocky with it even though I’m terrified of getting hit on the back again. I don’t even know if it was him that did it, I can’t tell any of them apart. 

Suddenly the masked guard is standing right by my shower curtain, tall and overbearing as he can almost see overtop of the pole. “You really don’t ever shut the fuck up, do you, Kiszka?” he blurts. 

I smile. It worked. I immediately recognize his voice as one of the Two. 

I continue rinsing myself off as I try and think of what to say next. “No, everyone always called me the quiet one, until they spent more than five minutes with me. Then they couldn’t get away quick enough,” I joke. “You the one with the baton? Could fucking ease up a little next time, you really make that shit real.”

“No. Isn’t me, it’s my brother,” he answers. The Two, they’re brothers?

Actually now, the more I think about it, the three minutes I spent with them in the dark the other day felt a little familiar. Their voices did mirror one another’s, and they seemed to offset the other’s energy. I could tell that without even seeing them.

“Was that the other one in the room with us two days ago? When you were explaining–”

“Yes. Was both of us,” his answer is clipped.

It’s silent for a second as I wait for him to say something else. Just then, my warm, blissful water supply cuts off, and my skin is already begging for it to come back. I groan at the loss, and begin wringing the water from my hair. “So you gonna give me something else? Any updates? They gonna take me away in the middle of the night again and drag me to a torture chamber to get answers out of me?”

I hear him huff a distasteful breath. “Listen, man, I don’t have much more information for you right now, but just know that yeah, that could probably happen at any minute. They haven’t told us much, lately. And I doubt they torture you…” he trails off. 

I rip the shower curtain open, completely uncaring that he’s seeing me stark naked, right now. Hell, this man has shared forbidden secrets with me, and I’ve never even seen his face. Fuck it. 

“Got a towel?”

He steps to the side and whips a door to the cabinet open, pulling out a thin white towel and tossing it across my torso. “Thanks,” I mumble. He then throws another set of thick fabric at me and I catch it before it falls. A pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt, both the same ugly gray color that look like they belong in a prison laundromat. Actually, maybe at one point, they did. 

I finish drying off and get dressed, and the man stands in front of the door with his back to me again. “That girl you were talking to, do you know her?” he asks. 

“No, not really,” I respond, “why?”

He shakes his helmeted head. “Just wondering, I do know that they’re going to take that old man that she sits with and sleeps beside.”

“Take him? Why? To where?” I’m suddenly panicked with worry, and I barely just met the man.

“He’s old, man. His time is limited. I don’t know much, but I’ve heard that they do some type of experimentation on the older immunes, see how much they can use them to their own advantage before their time is up,” he explains. 

“What the fuck? Experiments?!” I try and stay quiet when all I want to do is scream. “What is this, the fucking 1900’s?”

“I dunno Jake, all I’m saying is I heard they’re going to be taking the oldest from each of the pods here in the next few days and transferring them–”

“Pods? What are pods?” Now, I’m in his face, staring directly up into the dark glasses covering his eyes. 

“Eh, nothing, I can’t–”

“You can’t what, you can’t tell me? You’ve already given me all this fucking information and now you want to stop? I thought you said if I played my cards right, you’d be my best fucking friend… I’ve been cooperative, huh? So far?” I press. “What are fucking pods?”

His head nods away as he sighs, some type of radio beeping on his side. My time in the shower must be up. “Please…” I beg. “Is my family nearby?”

He looks at me again. “Listen, I don’t know much about the other pods, but I think that they are. I thought… I thought I saw your younger brother yesterday, walking down the main hall.”

“Sam..” I breathe.

“Yeah, Sam. The guy on the bass,” he responds. “I can’t tell you truthfully, Jake. Honestly, I just caught a glimpse. I would tell you more if I could, and as I learn more, I’ll feed it to you. We’ve just gotta be fucking careful, man. The other guards here don’t fuck around, ok? They’re trusted hires. Me and my brother, they have all the reason in the world to trust us. But they shouldn’t.”

I nod as his radio beeps again, and I place my hand on his shoulder. “Listen, would you do anything for your brother? Anything in the world to see him safe, alive?” 

I hear him swallow from behind his face covering. “Yeah, uhm. Yeah, I would.”

“Then you understand what it means to me when you said you think you saw Sam, what it means that I have to find them, protect them… just like you’d do for your brother just outside this wall, right?”

“Yeah, man. Yeah, I get it. I swear, as soon as I know more, you will hear it, too. From me or him. Remember, we’re on your side. We’re breaking free of this fucking place as soon as enough immunes are gathered… and we come up with a plan,” he says honestly. 

“I’m good at plans,” I say. “I’ll help.” He turns and opens the door, and I feel the rush of cold air enter the room with us, sending a chill over my still-warm skin. “And tell your brother that my fucking back hurts from the beatings…”

He forcefully ushers me back out into the dining area to join the rest, whispering to me through grit teeth. “All part of the charade…”

—-

As I’m laying on my cot later that night, I try to think of how in the hell I’m going to relay all of this to Y/N. How I’m going to warn her that they may be planning on taking her grandfather away. How we’re being kept in something called pods, which signifies to me that we’re just in some giant building being held in small groups so as to keep gossip to a minimum, keep us unorganized, distant. How I’m going to pass along to her the notion that everything we wrote, every piece of media we created, everything she followed and absorbed for so many years has literally everything to do with the situation we’ve found ourselves in. If I know anything about our fanbase at the time, it’s that though we wrote that music to be up for interpretation, most of it held true to a general, underlying fabric of that imaginary world. Well, I thought it was imaginary, and apparently Josh did too, until…

Should I tell her all of this? Should I even take the time to try and explain? I don’t even know her, but I almost feel obligated, at this point, to share my knowledge. She’s marked herself with proof that she knows the innermost details of our work, and has most likely formulated her own theories on it all. Of course they’d pester her for information, she’s a direct connection.

It may even be against her benefit to be seen talking to me.

I take a deep breath, wondering what good it would do to tell her about her grandfather, like she could stop it anyway. They’d probably just use force with them, too, and carry him off against his will if they tried to disobey and fight against the situation. 

The room is dark and quiet, save for the dimmed lights in the four corners of the room and the light snoring of my comrades locked up in here with me. I glance to my left, seeing Y/N laid on her side a few cots down, facing my way. Slowly, I lift my hand high into the air to wave at her, hoping that she’s still awake. 

A second later her arm is mirroring my action, floating up into the air and waving back at me. In the pale light, I can see a smile form on her face, her eyes lighting up just a bit as we both lower our arms back down beside us. It’s strange, I wonder what she’s thinking being locked up in here with me. I don’t often think about that kind of thing, from a “fan’s” point of view. I never really did, but sometimes it hits you. I wonder what it feels like to be on their side of things? Guess like how it felt when my brothers and I found ourselves in the presence of someone we looked up to. 

But this is quite different. 

I’ve got to get this information to her. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. But how in the hell am I going to speak to her while we’re under the constant eye of these masked men?

Could I write her a note, detailing it all out? No, they could find it, and then we’d really be in deep shit. Telekeneisis, speaking in code, using more hand gestures? I’m starving, and my mind is getting to a point of delirium. If it weren’t for that shower today and those frozen carrots, I’m sure I’d be on the verge of passing out, right now.

My eyes feel heavy as I watch her face half shadowed in the darkness, and I know it won’t be long until I think of something…

I fall asleep with a song stuck in my head, one that I haven’t even thought of in ages,

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’

The melody of Page’s mandolin is ringing in my ears as memories of writing with my brothers infiltrates my mind, my body begging for peaceful mental rest. I can almost feel the instrument in my hand and the strings against my fingers as I hear the song playing in my memory. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

 Maybe tomorrow will bring something new. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Y/N

“Jake… Jake, wake up…” I urge him, watching as his eyes flit around behind his eyelids. I gently press his shoulder, feeling quite uneasy about coming in on such a private moment of his. How on earth I’ve found myself being able to be the one waking him up from a deep sleep, I’ll never know. So many years ago I dreamed of just being in their presence during a show, and now, this? I dunno. Mysterious ways. 

“Jake, hey…” I try again, learning that he’s a fairly heavy sleeper. I watch his eyes finally open and register my face, and so I step back a bit as I cower from his bubble. “I’m sorry, the guards have already started patrolling, and they’re acting really weird, not telling us anything… just thought you’d want to be awake for it,” I say, having trouble explaining.

He sits up under his blanket and rubs his hands over his eyes and face. I can see the dark circles under them have gotten much worse. I also see that sometime during the night, he’d taken his shirt off, and I notice the swollen bruises on his back from the baton yesterday. They’re puffy and red, and I feel horrible knowing he has to be in pain. 

“You took your shirt off, are you not freezing in here?!” I ask, hugging my arms to myself in effort to deter asking him about his back.

“No,” he mumbles, grabbing it from the floor and sliding it back over his head. “I burn up when I sleep, burn up all the time, actually. Can’t stand having clothes on.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, my mind zipping directly back to all those years ago when we would literally beg him to take his stage jacket off for a show, and even then, he only ever showed himself shirtless a handful of times. Psh, the fucker must have liked to sweat. But it feels out of place to question him, now. 

“Everyone up! Dressed! Single file!” one of the guards yells across the room as they all finally stand at attention. 

We do as they say, getting into our little line that we’re all now so accustomed to, standing silently in front of the double doors. My hand reaches behind me and finds Paps’, the two of our fingers quickly squeezing one another’s as we remind each other that we’re okay. Jake ended up in front of me, and I can’t help but notice that his hair is as long as it’s ever been… the ends a little frayed but still sitting perfectly across his shoulders in a way my hair could never even dream of doing. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it, it looks so shiny and soft, but I stop myself, knowing that a younger me would be shaking in her boots, right now. 

“We’re going outside today, your pitiful asses need sunlight and fresh air, or else you might wither up and die, and we can’t have that,” one of the guards announces with a sarcastic laugh. I listen closely to his voice and realize that he sounds like he’s around my age. I wonder how on earth he got tied up with a job like this, at the end of the fucking world, no less. His accent even sounds local. 

“Thirty minutes. You can conversate, but keep it to a minimum, we will be monitoring your every move, your every uttered word, and don’t think we won’t,” he says, and his voice is so normal, that it isn’t even threatening. His words, though, are. “Stay within the boundaries of the courtyard, or we will use force. Do not fucking test us.” He turns and adjusts his weapon in his hands as another one opens the double doors for us to be led out. We only take a few steps before he turns back around. “Oh, and it’s not warm outside. So enjoy that.”

They lead us through the doors and down a long hallway, almost as dimly-lit as the room we live in. I see multiple doors but no windows, just long, maze-like hallways of beige-colored walls. We walk for a long time, up and down flights of stairs, and I start to wonder if they are just giving us a little extra exercise. I turn to look at Paps, finding him keeping up just fine, surprisingly. “You okay?” I mouth to him.

He smiles, giving me a sweet nod. I feel proud of him, even in this devastation we’re living in. 

As I turn back around, I see Jake looking at me directly in the eye. He seems out of breath, but not in a sense that he’s tired. He looks nervous. His eyes flick to the side and I follow them, seeing an old fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, a big black ‘X’ painted across the front of it. That’s odd. 

We walk more, and I feel the muscles in my legs start to tire up a bit on our fourth walk up a flight of stairs. We stay silent still yet, all glancing around at one another as we start to realize how huge this building really is. 

We’re led through a door again, and I watch as Jake’s eyes flit back to me again, motioning at me to look at that exact…same…extinguisher?

What the fuck?

I watch as Jake is shaking his head side to side in front of me, his fists clenching at his sides. I can tell that he’s mad, I can feel it radiating off of him. We round the corner at the end of the long hall, and finally, another set of double doors are opening to allow us to see the light of day for the first time in nearly a week. 

My eyes burn and water at the sight of it, the icy cold wind already blowing across my face as we all walk slowly outside into the grassy courtyard. Fuck, this feels good. The wind freezes my nostrils, but the sun is bright. Beaming hot rays shine down onto my face, and I take a deep breath, smelling the scent of impending snow coming through the air. As my eyes dilate, I see the green of the grass, the brown bark of the barren trees, the shadows cast from the overbearing sunlight. It’s all almost overwhelming. 

As I get my bearings and shade my eyes in the light, I look around to find everyone else doing the exact same. Not even a week we’ve been locked indoors, but that was all it took for us to crave being outside.

“Do you smell the snow?” Paps asks, a sweet smile underneath his mustache.

“Yes,” I whisper, grabbing onto his arm as we share giggles. It is rare that we get heavy snows in Tennessee, but when we do, they arrive harsh and quick. And with the way the sun feels so different now, and the weather has made such harsh changes…

I subconsciously look around for Jake, and I finally see him seated on a stone bench, his hands in his lap as he looks around at the buildings that surround us. I look back at Paps, and he motions for me to go and join him. I bite my lip. “Just go,” he says. 

As I slowly approach him, I hug my arms around myself again, feeling my skin chill from the wind. “So I guess this cold isn’t bothering you, huh?” I ask him, noting his very relaxed and carefree posture as it cuts through me like a knife. 

He looks down and picks a loose string from the gray sweats that they’ve given us. “Not really in the least,” he smiles a little, glancing up at me with one eye. I take the seat next to him on the cold bench. 

“I’m jealous, I freeze all the time. Bet you’re thriving in that cold dungeon they’re keeping us in,” I say, a little awkwardly. 

“It isn’t a dungeon,” he blurts out, his fingers brushing over the stubble that’s started to grow in over his lip and chin. I always loved him with a mustache…

“What? How do you know?”

“Did you see the fire extinguisher I pointed out to you? We passed it three times,” he says. 

“I–I’m not understanding…”

He turns slightly and glances at the guards around us, stopping speaking as they pass by. “These buildings aren’t that big… not big enough for us to have gone up and down four flights of stairs and down the exact same hallway three times. Either that guy was lost, or they were trying to confuse us on how to get out of here.”

“Oh…” I say, all of it actually making sense as I look at the building, only two stories high. “Why did they…”

“I paid attention to where we were walking, because I want to know where in the fuck I need to go when I bust out of this place, even if I’m in the dark,” he growls quietly, crossing his arms. 

“Bust out?! Jake, you can’t–”

“Yes the fuck I can,” he says, his eyes cutting to me sharply. I completely lose my breath, he is still so…

His jaw clenches as he keeps eye contact with me for just a second too long. “I think they were trying to tire out your grandfather, too,” he says. 

My heart falls. “Why, what do you mean?”

I watch his jaw clench again as he looks right ahead of us, his focused stare on the red brick of the building. “Jake! What are you talking about?” I press as I feel myself grow anxious. 

He turns to me, his face extremely close as he leans in, his eyes darting behind me to see if any of the guards are nearby. “They’re taking him.”

I feel the blood drain from my body. No… No. “They’re what? How do you know? What do you mean?!” I blab, almost too loudly. His fingers drift up to barely drift across my lips, just as they had done when he shut me up the first time. 

“Shh, you don’t know how to keep your voice down, do you?” he says, and he’s serious. For the second time in a week, Jake Kiszka has touched my lips. But, I can think about that later. His head swishes around nonchalantly as he whispers. “I have intel that they’re taking him, soon. The weakest and the oldest of the groups. It isn’t good, Y/N.”

“Wait wait, groups? There’s more of us? What in the–” I’m losing my breath, I’m so confused. “Where are they taking him? What for?” I whisper, already full of nerves and worry. 

“There are more of us. They keep us in small groups so we don’t spread gossip or information. They call them ‘pods’, and I have reason to believe that my family is in this very same building,” he explains. Just then, one of the guards walks right in front of us, giving Jake what looks to be the tiniest nod, his neck crooking ever so slightly down. 

…What? I watch as the guard’s finger slides off the trigger of his gun as he hangs closely nearby us. To my surprise, Jake keeps talking. 

“They are planning on taking your Paps, and uh,” he swallows. “What they do isn’t good, Y/N, I think they– I think they run some kind of tests on them…” 

I feel a rage I’ve never felt before boiling up in my veins. I want to lash out, I want to scream, I want to wage war on anyone who dares lay a finger on my grandfather. 

“Tests?” I ask, clipped, “What kind of tests?”

Jake swallows, keeping his eyes on the guard beside us. “Experiments.”

“Fuck…” I breathe. “No, they can’t, for what? He hasn’t done anything.. He–”

“He’s old, Y/N, his time is limited,” he says, and I watch as he struggles to explain it to me. Nothing is making sense… what in the hell is even happening? 

I’ve read plenty of books in my past that detail fictional apocalypses… the end of days in some other made-up world, but never did I think I would find myself in one, living day to day and having to think of ways to protect my family. Never.

“I won’t let them, I’ve got to do something…” I fluster, trying to stand from my place to go and be with Paps on the other side of the courtyard. Suddenly, I don’t want him out of my sight. If they’re going to take him, they’re going to take me. 

Jake’s hand is on my arm, stopping me from going anywhere. “Wait, listen. Don’t you want to know why they’re taking him, the oldest and the weakest?”

“Yes, but… you saw Paps in there, he kept up with us as we walked, he isn’t weak–”

“Exactly,” Jake says, “which makes me think we have some time.” I’m rendered speechless, the weight of everything falling over me as I’m enveloped with overwhelming worry. I look to the guard again as Jake goes on with a speech that he should be keeping quiet, but he isn’t.

“We’re immune, Y/N, from the rash. All of us, that’s why we’re here. They’re collecting us,” he says, no longer caring of the tone of his voice being loud enough for anyone to hear. I keep my eyes on the guard. 

“In the past few days, I’ve learned more than I ever thought could be possible, found out more information than I even have time to explain to you right now…”

“Try, Jake, please, I’m so lost…” I plead, my eyes never leaving the guard as Jake’s chin is almost rested on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. I’m nearly shuddering at his proximity, but I have to force it away. The emotions running through me right now are almost too much to bear. 

“We are a part of something much, much bigger than us. Something that we can’t even fathom. You weren’t that far off when you said that those things that captured you didn’t feel human, it’s because they’re not. The world as we know it is trying to push us off, kill us with the monster that we created, but some of us, we are immune to that sickness. You, me, your Paps… all of us can’t be infected by technology. So they came and gathered us here to wait while the rest of us are collected, so that we can continue on with mankind.”

I’m speechless again as I let his words sink in. Nothing makes sense, everything is so far off base, I can hardly form a thought. 

Continue on with…mankind?

“There’s so much more to explain, and I will, later, but our connection to this is much, much deeper than the people that we’re locked in here with. And I think we are going to have to pay for it…”

“Pay?” I ask. “Why us, and not them?”

He’s quiet again as the wind blows his hair across my face. I think I’m about to pass out as I feel him so close, but then I remember the heaviness of the words he’s saying, and not the feeling of his strands drifting across my face, as I’ve pictured them doing a million times before…

“You loved our music, right? Must have meant you had a love for our inspiration?” he asks, throwing me off. 

“Yeah, I guess…” I say, blinking as his strands catch in my eyelashes. 

“There were a bunch… who was your favorite? Who did you listen to most?” he asks. 

What the fuck? What does this matter?

“Uh, I dunno, Zeppelin, I guess?” 

“Good! Good… that’s good… so you are very familiar with them…” he breathes, confusing me even more. I pull away and meet his eyes, full of some type of new light. 

“...Yes…” I say through my teeth, the irony of the comparison almost making me laugh given their past with the band. 

He swallows hard as we hear a whistle being blown. 

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’ he sings, and I instantly recognize the song. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

I nod harshly. “Yes, Evermore…?” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Inspired us a lot for–”

“Garden’s Gate. Yeah, I kinda always figured that…” I interrupt, wanting him to get along with it. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He bites his lips, his cheeks turning a deep pink. “Plant drew inspiration from Tolkien to write that song, right? Based the lyrics on a far-away world?” he goes on.

“Right, yeah…”

He licks his lips as he tries to formulate his words. “What if Evermore were real? What if it really exists somewhere out there, but only very little people know of its existence?”

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

“Would it be so far off to think that a song inspired us so heavily that it gave my brother confidence to write about a world that he had dreamt up? Had nightmares about? Decades-long nightmares about a world that we don’t believe exists, but only in our music…?” 

My eyes clench as I try and understand. 

“Jake, I’m…” I don’t really understand what he’s trying to say. “Josh had nightmares?”

He nods slowly. “Tons of them. About battles, ancient tales, warriors, characters who inhabited other worlds…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated onto mine. “About technology overtaking the world…” 

Oh. Oh my…god…

My face drops as my eyebrows raise. “What… how is that even…?”

I look to the guard again, watching as he nods at me, just as he had Jake. I hear the whistle again. 

“I have more to tell you, but first we have to save your grandfather…” he says. 

I feel panicked. “Is that man your intel?” I ask Jake as I turn to him and ask about the guard beside us. 

He nods, taking both of my hands in his. “Yes, he can be trusted. And so can his brother. There is so much more, Y/N, I just need to know that you trust me… do you trust me?”

Me? Is Jake Kiszka asking me to trust him?!

“Yeah, of course I do… I just–” The group is being rushed out as the whistle continues to be blown. I’m being pulled in the crowd away from Jake… but I watch as he mumbles to me. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

Suddenly Paps’ hand is grasped in mine, and I feel the wind cut through my thin sweatshirt. I glance over to Jake again as he points to his arm once more, again telling me not to let anyone see the marks of my tattoos.

—-

We’re led back inside, taking the same route we did earlier, but backwards. I pay attention now, realizing that Jake was absolutely right. We pass the fire extinguisher three times, and go up and down the staircases an uneven amount of times it would take in this two-story building, even if it were the dungeon that they are keeping us in. 

My throat is dry as my emotions settle in, and I keep a keen eye on Paps, who I have let walk in front of me in our line. I need to tell him, but they will hear me. They will know. 

And Jake has intel?! What the fuck? How did he know he could trust that guard, we couldn’t even see his face! And he has a brother…?! All of this is still so gray to me, and I struggle with myself as I become a little internally irate that I don’t know every detail, like Jake does. I wish that we had more time to talk. More privacy. 

Jake is somewhere in the line behind me, and I try my best not to turn around and look at him. I need to look at him. I pull my sleeve down over my ink-covered arm, just like he’d asked, clutching the fabric tightly in my hand as we pace down yet another hallway. 

As they’re pulling us through a heavy metal door, two other guards are standing on the threshold. These guards aren’t like the ones who stay with us, they’re taller, thinner, and dressed differently than the ones we’re familiar with. They’re dressed in robes with hoods covering their heads, with heavy armored clothing underneath. They aren’t armed, but their faces are still covered. As the line passes between them, my stomach drops with a horrible feeling of dread. Something isn’t right…

These men aren’t guards, they’re the same beings that took us from the truck that night. 

“Paps!!” I scream, just as they grab onto either one of his arms, dragging him away from the line and through the door to another room. “Let him go!!!” I yell, my voice barely making the words out as I grab onto his waist, pulling him away from them. 

I catch his eyes, panicked and terrified as he fights against them. I feel Jake suddenly behind me, reaching out for Paps’ hands, as well. “Where are you taking him?!” Jake screams. “Don!”

“Y/N, no! Don’t let them…!” Paps yells back at me before a cloth is stretched over his mouth and eyes, and the heavy doors shut before us, leaving the whole group in a fury of madness. 

All of us, all of these people whom we don’t know but have spent the past few days locked up alongside us, all screaming and yelling and throwing their fists into the air to the guards who govern us. In this tiny landing in the curve of two stairwells, finally, all of us rise up against the guards in retaliation. 

“Let him go!”

“Bring him back!”

“Fuck you all, take us too!”

I hear the bunch of us erupt as my ears go deaf with adrenaline. I rush to the door, pushing my entire body weight against it to try and get through…to chase after where they had taken Paps. But it’s locked, barricaded with something heavy. 

I turn around again to the angry mob, the guards using force to hold them all back into the corner. They fight, they hit, they pull…I feel pride in the fact that maybe we aren’t all worthless in this place, after all... Watching on as we all finally stand up to them. 

But the thought is fleeting, as I watch Jake fall to the floor, blood pouring from the side of his face. I’m stunned, watching as it pools beside him. 

No…god, no. 

I rush to him, now, the mob of immunes now more infuriated than ever. There are only ten or twelve of us, all ranging in age and color and background…but they form a protective circle around Jake and I, layers of backs crowded above the two of us as I comfort Jake on the ground. 

Fearful tears are pooling in my eyes, and I feel the chaos above as I kneel beside him. They’re beating them, using force to drive through the protective wall to get to us, continuing on with trying to get to Jake. What had he done to piss them off? 

JAKE

I feel sharp pain near my temple and a dizziness overtaking my mind, but I also feel Y/N’s hand pressed tightly to my scalp and her presence beside me. I float in and out of consciousness, the noise of the chaos above me sounding more like a dull drone than individual yells. I’m being pushed and held down, but her hand never falters from trying to stop whatever blood is coming from the side of my head. I can taste metal in my mouth, and my ears are ringing so loudly that it hurts. There’s no doubt I will probably have a concussion. 

I look up at the blur above me, arms flailing, fists flying… all trying to protect me from…

Those beings. I know what they are…

They look different, though. They don’t look like the harmless hooded characters we emblazoned on the cover of our second EP, our mascots of sorts that adorned the front of so many posters and media. I remember how particular Josh was with coming up with the image of them, how cryptic he kept his descriptions. It all makes sense now… he was dreaming about the beings who exist between both realms. 

And apparently, they aren’t as nice as we had always envisioned them to be. 

Underneath their robes is a type of armor, chainmailled body suits made of heavy silver rings, all intertwined together and covering their chests like knights. Their faces can’t be seen, though I’m positive they keep them hidden under the heavy hood with a mask of sorts. They aren’t peaceful characters. What I always pictured as ancient representatives of our beloved world, our Infisonicosm, are nothing more than violent creatures who are apparently the ones sent to take drastic measures to protect the integrity of their realm. And capture my brothers and I.

It feels so out of sorts to even be thinking like this, believing what the First and Second told me about the parallel realm that we had written about. It’s ridiculous. It feels like insanity has overtaken my brain, believing in something so far-fetched that I actually want to laugh. 

…But all I want to do is run to my brothers and tell them that it is all fucking real. That Josh’s nightmares weren’t just dreams. That Danny was right all along, and nearly every single theory that was dreamt up by us alongside the ones who loved our music was, in fact, truth. 

“Jake!!!” I hear Y/N yell above the ruckus, trying her best to pull me to my feet. I’m dizzy, but I make it to my feet and stumble toward the stairs as she pulls me along, the angry mob behind me somehow holding off the creatures that haunted Josh’s nightmares. They need me. They want to hurt me, but they know I am valuable to their success. I have got to find my brothers, I have got to escape this place…

The two of us rush down the stairs, my feet carrying me quickly through the halls and dark staircases. Her hand is in mine, pulling me and keeping me on track as I stumble and bounce off the walls. “Stay with me, Jake… stay with me…” she beckons, and through my deafened ears, her voice is angelic.

My eyes stay half-closed as I run, keying in on her voice and the feeling of her hand pulling me along. I want to listen to her talk to me, I need the sound of it to keep me going… to keep me from succumbing to the dizziness. 

“Keep… Keep talking to me, Y/N,” I stammer out as we blast through another heavy metal door. I hear loud bangs and slams far behind us, and the pure fear of being caught again perpetuates my legs to keep moving. 

Suddenly I feel her hands on the sides of my head, her face so close I can feel her breath. “Jake, Jacob, look at me… open your eyes, we have got to keep running…” she pants, and the cadence of her encouragement lights a fire beneath me. “We’ve got to go, they’re chasing us…”

We take off again, the hallways seeming to become darker and darker the further along we go. I hear footsteps echoing behind us, and I know I’ve got to keep going, keep running. My heart is pounding as I try to stay alert. I know she has no idea where she’s going, but I’m just happy she is bringing me along. 

“Come on, Jake… come on…” she urges with a whisper, her hand squeezing at mine as she glances back at me every few seconds. It’s a miracle they haven’t caught up with us yet. I’m so out of breath I can hardly stand it, and the blood is dripping from the side of my head down onto my shoulder. But I hold her hand steady. 

The lights are flashing down here, and it seems as though we’ve run so far that we’ve reached a place that not many go. It’s almost too quiet, and only the sound of our heavy breathing is bouncing off the walls. We pause, looking around to gather ourselves as we take a second to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers, her hand shakily coming up to touch what I assume to be my head wound. I feel the immediate need to comfort her; the sound of the worry in her voice shoots right through my gut. 

“No, but I’m alright…” I breathe, barely hanging on to my consciousness. Thankfully, the adrenaline from running from those things has taken over and gotten me to safety. My chest is rattled and my limbs are sore, but still all I can think about is the terror that’s written all over Y/N’s face as she fights her instinct to want to assess me. “I’ll make it,” I reassure her.

“Your head, Jake, they– they hit you really hard…” her voice cracks, tears almost filling her eyes. I must look worse than I feel. The lights flash again and I suddenly notice a rumble under my feet.

“M’ okay, I prom- promise…” I stumble out, hanging on to my thoughts with everything in me. 

“Whoa,” she says, looking to the floor as she drops my hands. “What’s that?!”

The floor is vibrating, the walls around us beginning to make a loud humming noise as I start to feel uneasy again. The footsteps are still bounding toward us as we both scan around looking for another exit.

Suddenly, it’s as if the earth itself has decided to make every noise that has existed since the dawn of time- howling, cracking, lurching, growling… we both move our hands to cover our ears from the deafening sound, the shaking beneath our feet becoming more and more violent. 

It’s then that I know exactly what’s happening, another sinkhole. Right where we stand.

As the realization hits me, and the structure surrounding us begins to falter, I watch as the two creatures chasing us bound through the door we had just passed through, their arms outstretched and racing for us as we back away, hurling ourselves through the only other door that is available. 

The whole building begins to feel like it’s shaking, giving out from underneath us as I can feel the once-sturdy beams and foundation begin to give way. We have got to run. 

We race through the door, still hand in hand as we begin ascending the stairs now, trying to get out and to higher ground away from the buildings. I can’t explain the fear that’s rushing through my body; I’m not sure I’ve ever been as blatantly terrified for my own life as I am, right now. Fight or flight doesn’t even begin to compare to the fear of running from two things at once, both of them wanting to take your life for their own.

Running, bounding, skipping up stairs more quickly than I ever have before… somehow or another I’m managing, all because of the girl in front of me directing my motions, and not even thinking about leaving me behind. 

They’re on our tails, I can feel them… likely running to get to higher ground, too, at this point. The sound is still deafening in my ears as the walls begin cracking around us. We get to the top of a staircase and a bout of clarity hits me. I see one of those damned fire extinguishers hanging on the wall, an axe in the glass case with it.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!! Stop stop…” I say to her as I halt, our shoes sliding across the floor. I rip my shirt off, quickly wrapping the fabric around my hand. 

“What are you doing, Jake? We have to go!!” she yells, and I see the shadowed figures through the glass of the doors, bounding toward us. Without even thinking, I take my wrapped fist and break the glass, grabbing the axe that lies inside it. 

“Shut the doors shut the doors!” I yell at her, and she does, quickly leaning her back against them so that I can position the end of the axe through the door handles. Just as the head of the axe falls into place, the two figures hit the doors, trying as they might to pass through them. We step back, realizing our barrier is holding, and they cannot pass through it. I watch as Y/N holds both of her middle fingers up to them, and I hear their inhuman screams from the other side of the doors as they thrust their shoulders against them. 

Again we begin to run, flying up a set of stairs where I can see sunlight peeking through one of the windows. The building is shaking and moving below us, and my terror is at an all time high. Up we climb, my heart pounding as I watch her in front of me, turning to check on me every few seconds just as she had been. My heart flutters for just a split second at her concern for me, but it’s overtaken by the impending relief I feel for seeing daylight. 

“Go, Y/N! We’re almost there!” I yell, the ground below me vibrating so hard now that I nearly lose my balance and I put my shirt back on. “Run!!!” 

Finally we top the stairs and burst through the luckily unlocked door, rushing out into the cold brightness of the day. Yes, yes yes… I’ve never been happier to feel the cold rush of wind entering my lungs. My legs still carry me quickly over the now cracked concrete parking lot, around all of the old, dusty parked vehicles, and over barriers and fences as we run from the dreadful sound. I reach and grasp her hand in mine again as we hop over concrete barriers, onto what used to be the freeway.

A quick glance behind me shows me a sight I never thought I would see- the whole area we had just managed to run from, swallowed up by the earth. Fuck, Don…

I squeeze her hand as we rush again, both of us afraid that the fault line will continue to follow us. We run until we can’t anymore, until our legs are giving out on us, until we can hardly catch our breath. I finally stop, the dizziness beginning to reenter my mind as my adrenaline wears off. We’ve run about a half a mile, and we’re nearing what once was a string of stores. It’s abandoned, and shows no sign of any inhabitants. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she pants as we maneuver through the tall grasses that have grown through the parking lot. 

“I’m alright, I’ll make it…” I reassure her, watching her eyes light up when I say that I am okay. I squeeze her hand as we slow to a walk, feeling now that we might be safe.

We make our way to one of the old store fronts, what looks to be a convenience store. The windows are bashed out, and it has been looted, but I also notice something else on the cement below the door- fresh drops of blood. 

“Hey, Y/N,” I whisper, motioning to it. She looks to me as we both try and catch our breath, her brows furrowing in just as much confusion that’s probably written on my face too. I take the lead, the dizziness beginning to dissipate a little as I catch my breath, and my body calms. “Shh,” I motion with my finger over my lips, walking us through the old window as I follow the blood trail. 

We’re careful as we step over the glass shards and destroyed shelves, looking around to see if we could see anyone. Half of me thinks this is a horrible idea, and the other half wants to see if there is an injured individual who is hiding away, just as we are. I grab a pocketknife that once sat for sale on the shelf, wielding the blade in preparation.

There’s barely a breeze that floats through the old store, but I watch as the blood drops get smaller and smaller. They lead us to a door of what used to be the office of the manager of the store. Again, I hold my finger to my lips as I prepare to open it. This is such a bad idea…

My hand is shaking as I reach for the knob, second-guessing my decision with every ticking second. But Y/N doesn’t stop me, she must also know that any living thing we come in contact with is valuable, at this point. I grip the old gold knob and twist, my heart thrumming in my chest as I mentally prepare myself to fight. 

I shove the door open, and what I lay my eyes upon almost took all the breath from my lungs. 

“Sam?!”

“Oh my god, Jake!” He lurches toward me as I drop the knife to the ground, and the arms of my brother finally wrap around me in an unbelievably welcome embrace. 

Tears immediately fall from my eyes as we hold each other, and I can no longer feel the throbbing pain in my temple. “Is this real? Are you real?” I cry out, pounding my fist into his back in disbelief. 

“Yea, yea, I’m here!” Sam cries. “Fuck how did you–”

We pull away, meeting eyes as we fight to believe it. “There was another sink hole, we–we just managed to get out… we barely made it,” I explain, feeling out of breath again. “God, what– why are you here!? How did we find you?”

“We ran, we ran too! I used to come to this store sometimes, I dunno, it’s just where I ended up running to, then I was breaking the glass to get in and I sliced my hand open…” he says, running his hand along his dripping nose. “I heard you coming and we ran to hide…”

“We? Who’s we?!” I ask, looking around for someone else. 

“Jake? What the fuck?!” 

I turn to the voice behind me, recognizing it right off the bat as Daniel. I run to him, too, extending my arms around his torso as we embrace. “Oh my god…” he wails. “We didn’t think we’d find you, why are you here? How did you find us?!”

“Me and Y/N, we just ran…” I say, stepping back to look at her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, tears filling her eyes. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”

It only then hit me that she is watching the three of us reconvene, up close and personal. She looks like she’s in shock. 

“Yeah, I just…wow I never, I’m so glad you’re all okay…” she says through a thick smile. 

Immediately, Sam is walking to her through the pillaged rubble of the store. “Hey, I’m Sam, I’d shake your hand but, kinda bloody,” he says, extending his left hand instead. She sweetly takes it, her cheeks turning the brightest shade of pink.

“She knows who you are, Sam. She uh, followed us for years,” I explain. 

Sam glances at me with wide eyes. “No! You’re kidding!” 

I notice her cower back in shyness. “Yeah, sure did. Since uhm, since Strange Horizons,” she giggles. “All the way up until…”

The three of us stare at her as she collects her emotions. “I had tickets to the first show you had to cancel. Kind of uh, ironic, now…”

“Yeah, that one was a bit out of our hands,” Sam grunts through a laugh. I take notice of how long his beard has gotten, making me run my hand over my own rough, scruffy face. I haven’t even looked in a mirror in weeks.

“How in the hell did you two link up?” Danny interrupts my thoughts. 

“They had us in the same group, she and her grandfather,” I say, looking at her again. Her eyes hold mine for only a few seconds, fear and terror and sadness washing over her. She turns away as it looks as though she’s embarrassed for us to see her upset. 

I go to her as she turns, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, he probably made it out, they wouldn’t have just left him…he’s a strong and able bodied man, he—he’s probably rushing around trying to find you, right now,” I try to console her. 

“No he isn’t, Jake, you saw what happened to that building! There’s no way he made it!” she whisper-cries, covering her mouth. 

“Hey you don’t know that, Y/N. Those…things may have taken them with them when they ran. They know he was valuable. For all we know they got him out safely, you can’t think like that…” I say, and she bites her lips in trying to hold back her sobs. She holds herself as I hear Danny and Sam trying to make themselves invisible with pointless tasks behind us. She looks absolutely distraught. 

So I do the first thing that pops into my head, I take her into my best comforting embrace. “It’s alright, it’s okay to freak out for a second, if you need to…” I say. 

Her forehead rests on my shoulder as I feel her let it all go, her fear and sadness and worry that she’s been holding in for her grandfather. I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now. “Shh, it’s alright. We’ll find him, Y/N, I promise. We will find him.”

My promise holds less weight than I make it sound, but anything I can muster to try and qualm her sobs and calm her thoughts. I know how she feels, at least, being ripped apart from your family and forced into this terror. She relaxes into me for a short-lived few seconds, but as soon as she does, it’s as if the world around us disappears. I haven’t felt another human’s touch like this in weeks… the last time I really felt this connection was one morning before we left for the cabins, when my mom decided to break down on me a little, and I consoled her cries in the kitchen. 

It’s strange really, what the lack of that human connection can do to your psyche. You don’t really ever realize how much we thrive off of it, how much the chemicals in our brains rely on that rush of endorphins to keep us intact. I’ve missed it, I’ve missed a lot, honestly, but you don’t have time to think about your physical needs when you’re trying to survive. So I let her fall into me, and I into her, her hands gripping into the back of my shirt as her sobs shake her chest. I allow myself to squeeze her shoulders under mine, and rest my chin on top of her head, feeling more relaxed than I have in months. This feels…

“I’m sorry,” she says as she quickly pulls away and wipes her eyes. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be—“

“No no, it’s okay, don’t worry,” I say, the disconnection from her feeling more intense than I thought it would. Like my second of euphoria was snapped in half, right before the comedown. She dries it up quickly as she hides her face from me, and I decide to give her a second. I still feel a strange tingle shooting its way through my body, and I know for a fact just that small act of comfort will have me craving more later. 

“Jake, have you seen Josh anywhere? Heard from anyone else?” Sam says as he walks my way. 

I shake my head. “No, but I have some um, information…that I think could help us find everyone. But it isn’t the best,” I choke out as I watch their brows furrow. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asks, glancing back over to where Y/N is trying to collect herself.

I take a deep breath as I grab ahold of the old countertop beside me, still worn from years of use. My knuckles are red and busted, and my fingers look more frail than they have in my entire life. 

I’m honestly not even sure where to start with this…

“Daniel, before they took us, before everyone got separated, those thoughts you were having, those suspicions about our lyrics and our world…they’re um. They’re very, extremely real,” I try and begin to explain. “Unfortunately, I think… I think we’re in for a lot worse than we realize…”

"Wait, what? What do you mean they're real?" he asks, stepping toward me.

I take a short, chopped breath. "It exists, guys. That world we created, that we built from Josh's crazy fucking thoughts... We didn't invent it, it's real. It's in another realm that exists alongside ours. Josh um, Josh dreamt about it, for years. Everything he dreamed, he passed along into our music, visually, and conceptually. He was dreaming about it because it's not fictional. It's totally and completely a place that lives and breathes, just like we do."

It’s then that the four of us freeze, hearing loud footsteps trudging across the gravel-covered pavement in the lot outside. Three sets, at least. 

“Fuck,” Danny whispers as we all jump straight into panic again, rushing toward the back of the building to find a back door. 

We bust through, rushing to the heavily-wooded area behind the line of stores, straight to the unknown.

Again. Running…

Fear and anxiety grip me again as we rush up the hill, briars and sticks catching against my skin. Daniel and Sam are ahead of me as we scale up the steep incline, darting straight for any type of coverage we can find. I look back, realizing that it’s now my turn to find Y/N’s hand, and pull her along. 

No longer is my head throbbing, no longer is the dizziness wracking through my psyche. I’m not sure what switched, only fifteen minutes ago I was passing out as she pulled me through the hallways to safety, but here, now… I feel more clarity than ever. 

I find her hand, still damp from wiping her own tears, and I pull her to my side, giving her hand a tight squeeze as we run. We finally top the incline into a field full of trash and old machinery, abandoned vehicles and an old shed in the corner. The trees tower high above us, and I’m thankful that they had provided us with high boots as they held us in that damned building. We quickly trudge through the thick grass, and it dawns on me then how much nature has already begun to take over. How tall the bushes are, how much foliage grows on the trees.

It hits me then– it’s supposed to be winter… Why is everything so green?

I shake the disorienting thought from my head as I follow behind Danny and Sam, a quick and agile Y/N keeping right up with us. Darkness is about to fall, but my brothers and I are resourceful. Suddenly a brand new journey is awaiting us, a manhunt for the ages as our main concern is now finding Paps, and finding the rest of my family. 

As we run, I dig deep for gumption, for something steadfast to hold onto so that we can keep going. So we can work together to get through this, one step at a time. Our road ahead is going to be one of the most difficult we’ve navigated yet, but now I’ve got a team behind me. And though my other half is missing, I’ve got more drive than ever to find him, and stop them from taking us for our knowledge and twisting it for what we thought was imaginary, and using it to their own agenda.

I won’t be able to save the world, but damned if I’m not gonna try. 

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[angeloftrumpets]