#took a break and had another moment where i remade

[allthejoeks]

A companion piece to this post.

Yang heard the sound of something shattering. She was staring up at a ceiling. She didn’t want to move, but she could hear whether she liked it or not.

“Weiss, cut it out!”

“GRAB ME AGAIN, JAUNE ARC!!! LET”S FIND OUT IF MURDER GETS US TO THAT FUCKING TREE!!!”

“Gods, I miss Beacon,” Yang mumbled.

Blake’s face immediately occupied her entire vision. “Oh thank goodness, Yang!”

“Could we have dated at Beacon, do you think?” Yang asked. “I wanna go back, but only if we still get to be gay for each other.”

The worry on Blake’s face softened ever so slightly. “We were gay for each other then, too.” Another shatter. Yang still didn’t feel like moving so she allowed Blake to ragdoll her into a sitting position. Now she was staring at the ground, where Ruby was. Oh gods, Ruby. She was in the ground. Ruby. Her little baby sister. Her sweet, precious-

“Hey, no, don’t shut down! Stay with me, Yang,” Blake’s voice echoed through her head. “I need you to stay with me.”

Yang didn’t want to stay with her. She wanted to curl up in a ball and do nothing. Like father, like daughter. That single thought propelled her to action. Another shatter. But gods, maybe she should have given Dad more credit. It took literally all of her strength just to see what kept breaking.

Weiss was in the process of actively hurling teacups across the room, tears streaming down her face while purple liquid poured out of her mouth. Jaune was trying and failing to restrain her.

“Weiss, maybe we should all calm down,” Blake said gently. Too gently. Weiss whirled on them, with a face- one that Yang had once bet twenty lien on being set in stone- twisted into a pure, manic hysteria. In her grief, Yang felt a twinge of pride for her sister for cracking that shell. 

“Don’t talk to me like a fucking child, Blake! I don’t need to calm down, what I need is RUBY! But THESE STUPID FUCKING DRINKS WON’T TAKE ME TO HER!!!”

“Of course they won’t!” Jaune snapped. “It’s a place you know! Only that bastard cat can actually go there!”

“IF YOU SAY THAT ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I REALLY WILL-”

“Weiss,” Yang said quietly. Immediately the expression of hysteria mixed with one of worry. That’s right, Weiss was one of her closest friends too. And they were only so close because of- Oh, she could feel the hole in herself expanding. She could feel her face start breaking down. “I could really use a hug from somebody right now,” she confessed, trembling. Immediately, Blake and Weiss wrapped themselves around her. She lifted her arms to hug them back, the effort not as demanding as it had been seconds before. She could hear their sobs against her, and she felt hers start to break out too.

She was sad, she was so horribly sad. But that same grim pride was still there. She was proud of her sister. She was proud that her sister was someone so brilliant that everyone around her simply broke down in her absence. Like mother, like daughter.

They stared there for a while, sharing their grief and pain, releasing all the pain and suffering they could, almost like an unspoken promise, to never hold anything back again.

It was Weiss who pulled herself together first. She looked over to Jaune. “I’m sorry for threatening to murder you,” she said flatly.

“Don’t be, it’s the right idea,” he responded.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jaune?” Blake asked.

He stared despondently into the teacup- the only one Weiss hadn’t chugged and broken.

“You can’t just go to the tree, you have to know that you have to go to the tree,” he said. “It only takes you when you either have to be remade, or know you have to be remade. That’s why the drink didn’t work, Weiss, you don’t think you have to be remade.”

They were all silent for a moment. “...And you do?” Blake asked.

Jaune was silent for several moments. Eventually, he sighed, and put his head in his hands. “I can’t go back like this,” he confessed. “Ren, Nora, Oscar, gods, I don’t know how long we’ve been down here to them but I don’t want to be… apart from them. I want to be someone who can still be there with them, until the bitter end. I can’t do that like this, been too long, can barely remember their faces. Picture the pleasers more than I do them. I need to be different. I just… didn’t want to lose anything. But… if it gets us to Ruby, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“So what’s the game plan?” Yang demanded, before anyone could say anything else. She wasn’t proud of it, but she was also perfectly willing to let Jaune take that risk. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I take a swig, and the rest of you hold on for dear life? It’s not great, but I’ve been out of the leader game for a while.”

“Well, it’s our best option,” Weiss said, eyes flitting between her and Blake. Yang could feel her desperation well. This wasn’t their best option at all, but it was their quickest one, and that’s what mattered to all three of them right now.

They dragged themselves to their feet, and walked over to Jaune. Each of them gripped a part of his armor.

“Don’t change too much about yourself, Jaune…” Weiss said carefully. “There’s more that’s better about you than you think.”

Jaune snorted, not taking his eyes off the liquid. “Man, a lifetime ago, I would’ve given anything to hear the Weiss Schnee say that about me. How the time flies.” He wrapped his fingers around the cup. “You guys ready?”

They looked at each other. Blake held out her free hand in between both of them. They all entwined their hands. No matter what happened, they were in it together. “Ready,” Yang said.

Jaune lifted his cup. “To better days,” he toasted, taking a long swig.

The ground opened up and swallowed them all whole. They were falling for but a moment, then the hole closed above them and everything went pitch black. There was a loud clanging sound and suddenly they were yanked to the side. Another clang, and Jaune just vanished. They were holding on to nothing.

“Interesting. No one has attempted this before,” a woman’s voice boomed from all around them. “I too must make some changes. Thank you for this enlightenment. As a show of thanks, I will take you to where you wish to go. But know this: This will not be possible again.”

Before any of them could grasp what was happening, there was another clanging, and sunlight erupted from the darkness. They were hurled into it, and just like that they were outside again. It was over. Yang glanced around. They were on a branch, at the canopy of the tree. They made it to the tree. But that goal suddenly seemed insignificant, because she saw rose petals landing on the ground. Ruby had just been here. 

Yang whirled around, desperately looking for any sign of her, any splash of red, and her eyes landed on a flapping piece of a cloak, peeking out from behind a branch.

She wanted to call out, but her voice got caught in her throat. She couldn’t bear it if she called the name and got no response. Luckily, Blake noticed where she was looking and stepped forward for her. “Ruby?” she asked, dread coating the question.

“Don’t come any closer,” Ruby’s voice commanded them.

“Ruby, it’s us,” Blake continued. “We-”

“I know it’s you, that’s the problem, Blake! You being here means that was the real you back there! I did all of that right in front of you! In front of Yang! I can’t… I don’t wanna see anyone right now.”

Yang felt an overwhelming surge of relief despite it all. She was still Ruby. She could breathe again. Oh, she had not been breathing. Oh, she really hadn’t been breathing.

Weiss patted Yang’s back. “Well, glad to know you won’t kill yourself in front of us, just when we’re not looking,” she said, the sadness in her voice crushing all of Yang’s relief.

“It’s not like that, Weiss-”

“Well what is it like then, Ruby?!” Weiss demanded, voice cracking. “I would love to know! Because you ki- ditched us in this miserable hellhole, leaving us alone, so you’re a failure of a leader, and I never realized how bad you’d gotten so I’m a failure as your partner! So please, tell me how it isn’t like that! Because if we’re both just failures… then what the hell was it all for?”

There was a moment where all of them waited, all of them needing to hear Ruby’s true thoughts. And as Yang waited, she realized Weiss was right. Ruby was their leader. She called their shots. They could disagree, but Ruby was the one who spoke first, offered something to disagree with, if they did at all. She hadn’t realized, not fully, but Ruby really wasn’t her little sister anymore. She wouldn’t be waiting to hear her little sister dictate to her what her life’s work was for.

“...What’s your least favorite thing about me?” Ruby asked.

“What?”

“Your least favorite thing about me,” Ruby repeated. “I’m not going to say anything until you each tell me.”

What the hell was she doing? Weiss was mid-breakdown, she was like, five breakdowns in, and Blake was holding on out of sheer need for one of them to be sane, and all they needed was to just see her, hold her, to feel better, but she wanted to throw some fucking pity party instead? Yang’s vision turned red. Fine, Ruby wasn’t her little sister anymore, but she was still Ruby’s big sister. Time for some education.

“You can be such a fucking brat sometimes,” Yang growled. Blake and Weiss both whirled on her, shock and scorn across their faces, but Yang brushed them aside. Tough love time. “I’m serious Rubes. Like I know you, you are the most naturally kind person I’ve ever met. But kindness takes discipline too! And not to get all ‘Ice Queen’ on you, but you just don’t have that discipline! When the chips are down, you get fucking mean! Like I get it, ‘the unimaginable weight of all your sins’ or whatever, but you don’t need to be such a fucking dick about it!”

Dead silence. Blake and Weiss were glaring daggers at her. She was sure this would have gotten her into some mandatory ‘sensitivity training’ extracurricular back at Beacon, but whatever? Ruby wanted it? Ruby would get it.

“Ruby,” Blake began. “I don’t think she meant-”

And then Blake cut off because Ruby warped herself into a full hug with Yang. “And that’s why I have you,” Ruby said. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to be as nice and friendly as you can, because life didn’t allow you to be the absolute bitch you’ve always wanted to be. And I’m sorry. I know my stuff’s unimaginable to you, but I can’t imagine raising a kid at the tender age of six. Thanks for everything.”

She hated how easy she was for Ruby. One hug was all it took. “It was really hard,” she mumbled, tears streaming down her face. “You could fucking teleport. I had to convince Dad to buy that keypad cookie jar, remember?”

Ruby laughed, voice shaky with crying too. “Oh gods, I do. One day, you couldn’t remember the code and we were all having a really bad day, so you just smashed the thing open and Dad refused to buy a new one.”

Blake and Weiss both hesitantly stepped closer. And just like that, the hug was over. Ruby teleported behind the branch again. “Nope, sorry, need to hear something from all of you,” she said, both her voice was lighter now.

The three of them shared a glance. Weiss stepped forward. “You ‘re really hypocritical,” she declared. “You always preach this kindness and openness. ‘Oh we’re team RWBY, we’ll take on any problem’, ‘Oh, hey Weiss, best friends talk with each other, what’s on your mind?’ but you never talk to me about anything! I want us to be… I want us to be proper partners, but you keep putting up these airs, and pressing forward, and it all makes me feel like an idiot for not being able to be there and that’s not fair!”

And just like that Ruby was in Weiss’s arms. “And that’s why we’re best friends. Because you need everything to be clear and in the open like that, and for everything to make sense. And I know I’m not too helpful in that regard, I try to plow through regardless of how much sense everything makes, but I’ll try to meet you in the middle more often on that. BFFs?”

Wess was actively sobbing now. “Of course, you dolt.”

Ruby chuckled. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“You haven’t earned it in a while.”

With a chuckle, Ruby once more vanished in a puff of petals, leaving them alone again.

“Alright, one more time, and then I’ll be ready to be team RWBY’s fearless leader again,” Ruby said.

Both Weiss and Yang stared at Blake. Yang was deeply curious as to what issue Blake had with her sister. Ruby was on the highest pedestal her girlfriend could muster, not that she was jealous about that or anything.

Blake stared at the ground, ears flat against her hair. “I- you… You chew really loudly,” she decided.

There was a brief pause as everyone considered what was just said. “Blake,” Weiss said slowly. “You’re uninvited to my roast.”

Yang exploded into a grin. “So fucking lame of you, babe. We’re all baring our souls out here.”

Blake turned to them, face bright red. “Shut up! You guys went before me, and she does chew really loudly! It hurts to hear sometimes!”

“Wow, can’t believe Blake’s telling me to go back into the tree just so I can chew quieter,” Ruby added, and Yang was thrilled to hear the joy in her voice. “Sickening, Blake. Sickening.”

“No, I’m- You guys are such jerks!” Blake countered, in a mix of tears and laughter.

Ruby zoomed in and hugged her as well. “And that’s why you’re second-in-command,” Ruby declared. “Whenever we get a little off-track, or I get caught up in something, you’re always there to pull everyone back in. You know what matters to you, and you always tackle everything with 100% genuinity.” She pulled back and for the first time they all got a genuine look at her face. She was sobbing, and had been for a while, but Yang’s heart swelled to see a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there for a long time. “Yang doesn’t deserve you, but I really am so glad you two figured it out anyways.”

Alright, that was enough self-restraint for one day. Yang grabbed Weiss and swung her into the two of them for a group hug. “See?! I told you guys, she’s such a brat!”

“Oh like we didn’t know it before,” Weiss mumbled, clinging on to all of them like they’d vanish.

“Guys! It’s not time for the group hug yet!” Ruby chided, smiling. “I still had like, half of my inspirational speech left! About how we all have problems, and we can be the answers to each others’ problems and-”

“It got across just fine,” Blake assured her.

“Seriously, Rubes, shut up,” Yang said. “You don’t need to be our mighty leader all the time. Right now, we just need Ruby.”

“Well good,” she responded, and Yang could feel her arms slither out and around them all. “Because Ruby really needed you guys too.”

They stayed there for a while, sharing their grief and relief, love and pain, releasing everything they felt because now they could, now they were back together again.

It was Ruby who spoke up first. “Alright, sorry guys, but your fearless leader’s back. First order of business: we’ve got a cat to kill.”

“But we don’t even know where they are,” Blake protested.

“Huh? Oh, they’ve been at the base of the tree this entire time.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, Little’s been keeping them busy.”

“Little the mouse,” Yang clarified, injecting her voice with as much doubt as possible.

“Well, not a ‘mouse’ anymore,” Ruby explained, making her way to the edge of the canopy, as they all followed behind her. “They wanted to shift their role from ‘my guide’ to ‘my guardian’, somebody who could protect me while I protected everything else. But their concept was a little… lackluster, so they figured they’d workshop against the most dangerous thing they knew, and well, it gave me time for our whole thing so, if it works, it works, I guess.”

“I’m also going to try and meet you in the middle by not commenting on how insane that is,” Weiss announced. Blake elbowed her, but Ruby merely laughed.

“True, but they convinced me to give the whole ‘relying entirely on another people’ thing one more shot, so I didn’t really have much of a… choice,” she finished, staring beneath them at something on the ground far below.

“Ruby?” Blake asked.

Ruby turned back to them. “So uh, ‘Little’ is an ironic name, now.”

Yang glanced down and saw an absolutely hulking tan wolf ripping Jabberwalkers to shreds as all of their attacks just bounced off its hide. Ruby had successfully acquired a nigh indestructible beast as a pet.

Well, like father, like daughter.

[cada5h]

SYLVARA THE MOURNED | DROW | CLERIC OF EILISTRAEE | ACOLYTE

Backstory Under Cut

Sylvara was born Rhaenis Terrelle, the only daughter of High Priestess Alienor. As a child, Sylvara was groomed to into becoming the next High Priestess of Lolth. Bred into a life of depravity, brutality, and sacrificial worship, Sylvara did not know another way of life. She believed herself to be the sword of Lolth's justice, to dole out her punishments and bring dissenting drow into line, by any means necessary.

Until, one day, Sylvara was gravely injured in an ambush. She lost consciousness, and when her enemies were given the chance to slay her, instead they chose to save her life. Sylvara was brought to their hideout where they tended to her wounds. She was instantly suspicious - she did not trust these heretics. She knew they wanted the secrets of her goddess, of her temple. So she bid her time, earning their trust, bit by bit. When she was finally released from her bonds, she took the first sharp thing she could get her hands on and pinned the heretic girl who had unlocked her chains against the wall. But this heretic... she bared her neck with valiant courage. "Do it, then," she'd whispered, those glassy lilac eyes boring into Sylvara's blood-red gaze. "If after everything we have done, after what we risked, to save you, to shelter you... If after all that, you still want us dead then it is too late. Lolth dug her claws too deeply for any of us to help. Kill me and prove yourself her leashed beast."

And Sylvara... hesitated. For the first time in her short life, she hesitated. The girl took that split-second of indecision to disarm her. But the fight had drained from Sylvara. She held out her wrists willingly this time, bore her chains with grace. Is this what the rest of the world was like? What was this twisting, piercing feeling in her gut? What was this heaviness weighing her down?

Shame. Niera had taught her that. That and more. More than Sylvara had ever dreamed of. Niera taught her love and guilt and grief and hope. Niera had opened her eyes to what life could be, what the world could be. But this bliss - this new-found freedom - did not last. Could not last. Lolth would not let it last.

The temple had found her. Lolth had found her.

Her brothers and sisters raided the hide-out of the drow rebels. They had slain her beloved Niera. They had cut down every last one of the rebels there, and Sylvara could not help the dread that threatened to drag her to the very pits of hell itself.

Once she returned home, Lolth demanded an audience. Sylvara was honest, to her own detriment. She wanted freedom - she wanted to explore the world, all of its corners, she wanted to love and be loved. She wanted it all, everything the temple, her mother, had hidden from her.

Lolth was not pleased. She cursed Sylvara, took her right eye as punishment, carved her own runes of power into Sylvara's face. "You sweet pretty young thing," she purred as she held her head in her hand, a shiny white knife in the other. "You think you can betray me, to break the vows you swore. I will make sure that when others look upon this pretty face of yours, they will know what you have done, the sins you have committed, and when you die, I will feast on your soul and pick my teeth with your bones."

Lolth meant to kill her - and she had almost succeeded. But somehow, for some strange divine reason Sylvara could not understand, Eilistraee intervened. Eilistraee saved her.

And in that moment, Sylvara made a vow to serve her until her last breath and to bring an end to Lolth's reign. She would tear down the weave, the heavens and hells, and destroy her, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

Sylvara left and remade herself as Sylvara the Mourned. She swore herself to Eilistraee's service, and became the nightmare Lolth had bred her to be.

[orangetintedglasses]

☨- There. The moment Greenie rebelled back, showing the will to fight back and survive was Remade 's downfall. He had finally gotten over the turmoil to get his hands dirty if it meant securing the safety of his comrades. It wasn't a perfect leap of course. There sure would be times where Vash would still try to rule his decisions based on non violence. A pacifist Buddhist, a protagonist Belial has only seen a few times in his other worldly travels. He respected this. So he would do Greenie a small favor. He would help keep his remaining mental psyche clean of slate so that his spiritualness was not tainted by bloodshed of his own doing.

The moment Remade was kicked off to choke on his own bile, he would be plunged, and impaled by Belial's summoned marlow white saber. Crafted from his own essence; the sword would cut down all who'd oppose its master. Silently the Daemon sinks the saber to the hilt into Remade 's heart. Breaking the connection the two plants had with one another. Freeing Greenie of this unnatural aspect of his consciousness. Belial was not a monk of any sort. He was the defiance of karma and impermanence. A killer that has time again and again shit on death's doormat, and laughed. Belial would always cheat for the outcome he believed was worth aiming for.

"This fight has come to its conclusion. You are not fit for the throne my dear flora. Give thanks to your counterpart, he in the end still showed you mercy." Belial slowly slid the sword out of his chest and back. Just as the plant would collapse to his knees, his head would follow to join his feet, with a swift final beheading. Cutting the black roots that was so deeply implemented.

The prism cleared for them, light filtered in, as a familiar room of greenery took place of the shadows. Belial stood once more in his humanoid glamour and lit a cigarette. Staring at Greenie, who was victorious and the true head of his being. They were now in Vash's mind palace, his original safe space. The remnants of his other self fading like burned crisp leaves. "It's time you get your shit together. Your final fight is with your twin. There are still others trying to help you regain control. I won't be there to aid you from this point. When you gain control of your body, be wary of any flying bullets..." Belial walked up to Vash and ruffled his hair.

"When we meet again in the waking world, you owe me." The last words he would speak before finally dispersing.

Two sets of blue eyes widened at the sight of the bone-white blade, though only one would feel the release the blow represented, cutting through the tangle of invisible strings that had kept Vash bound and even giving him back his voice. No more sharing, all his own again, as the Remade double barely had time to gasp before Belial cut him down. And when that happened, the missing color returned, taken back from the Remade copy-- climbing up from his feet like ink on paper, all the missing hues of blacks and browns, yellows and greens that had been 'cleansed' returned, leaving the youngest of the Stampedes standing there. Whole again.

Looking down at his hands, Vash almost can't believe it. He doesn't feel the weight meant to keep him down here anymore. It would still be a feat all it's own to get back where he needed to be, but... he'd be able to do it, now. He wasn't trapped down here anymore.

Vash lifts his head to thank the other, but by that time, Belial is gone, with just the promise of being owed for his service still ringing in his ears. What that means isn't clear... but he doesn't care. He's going to get out of this place.

And he'll start by trying to follow that strange disruption he felt before...

[joshuasearing]

Thursday 19th September 2024

Yesterday was not great. So work was awful and it all went on and was very stressful and I felt like a slave I wish that was an understatement. So basically all at one time about 4 different things happened. So this customer when I served him at the till wanted everything fresh, however I can not check he’s burgers because firstly I already have enough to do and second of all I’m not in the kitchen my job is at the front. Then when I started making up he’s order I touched he’s fries and it was hot enough in my opinion. But when I gave him the order, he was like can I get fresh fries but not in a nice way rudely. Also at this point I was already pissed of as the managers had been making me run parks constantly whilst they did fuck all. So I launched the fries he gave back in the bin in anger, and I didn’t even mean to do it it just came out of no where as I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Anyways a manager gave him fresh fries. Then he came in again complaining about the burger so I got him he’s new burger, then he was like where are my fries. Although at this point we gave him fresh fries already so he was just trying to get free ones and was being a right dickhead. Then whilst at this point he was shouting at one of are managers trying to say he was going to call head office. Anyways also we had a rude delivery driver speaking to the manager rudely. Also at the same time we also had someone refusing to park up and the police were having to be called, because they were refusing to park up and they threw there drink at the manager as the manager said we need the drink back if you are not going to park up for your food.

Then I was doing someone order which was a locator and once I finished it I walked up the stairs and as I was doing this I missed stepped and dropped there whole order, it ended up with me soaked in sprite I also hurt my knees and my hand whilst dropping all there food and drink and the tray. Then a customer very after I slipped came up the stairs asked if I was ok, and I was shaking and my adrenaline was all over the place. But I was honest and just told her it just added to the bad day already. After this someone I work with said they will help clean it up whilst I get it sorted, I just got a couple wet floor signs for them, then another person I work with got the customers food and drink remade. Whilst this was happening I went upstairs and got myself all tidied and dried off.

As the shift went on it got a little better, but near the end I was put on window one headset and window and I ended up stating overtime for about 15 minutes over as I was covering someone’s break on there and they took there time. After work I went straight home as I also felt very dizzy. Once I got home I didn’t really do much for the rest of the day. I did watch the 2nd half of the Tottenham game vs Coventry. Coventry made 1-0 to them vs us. But then at the end we made some changes and we ended pulling it back and winning 2-1 against Coventry.

Now for this morning I slept in a bit longer then I opposed to. But once I was up I got ready for the day, had some porridge, then went to the gym. Now for today I still feel really ill, like I feel really dizzy with a lack of energy. So this means my session was pretty shit if I am honest. I trained mainly legs then ended off with a 10 minute walk on the treadmill. After the gym I went to Tescos got myself a meal deal, then when I was at home I kept on checking my car, and this women asked if I was locked out of my car and I said no I just check it a lot. Then a few moment later as she was walking down the road I kept on seeing her turning around and staring at me. I honestly believe she thinks I was trying to steal the car or something. But no it’s just my ocd to its best and playing up. But she was judging me so hard.

Since being home I’ve had my meal deal, watched some YouTube, posted a couple tiktoks and also rang the doctors for an appointment a telephone one. As I have been told my levels are low. So I need to get that sorted.

Ok I will speak to you later, bye journal!

[anotherwritersblog]

Title: Happily Ever After

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Rating: Anyone/Everyone

Word Count: 1.6K-ish

Warnings: some fluff, mentions of anxiety, some language (writing and posting to tumblr is new to me, so if I ever miss anything that needs to be mentioned, please just let me know)

Summary: Facing your fears leads to one of the best days of your life.

Author's Note: Hi. First time posting to Tumblr (as well as writing Chris), but not a first time writer. I've got a thing or two in progress on other sites, but I think I'm going to wait and see how this one pans out here. Thought of a few drabbles pertaining to this as well, so I might add on with those later. I don't know. We'll see. This story is beta'd by myself, so any mistakes are my own. I would also like to admit that I’ve made moodboards before, but with my own pictures. So this edit was also a first 😅 I’m still working on it. Lol. No joke. I remade the damn thing at least five times.

Any and all reblogs/likes/comments are appreciated.

In no way, shape, or form, do you have permission to repost this anywhere.

____________________

Growing up, Disney had always been a big part of my life. I'd come down for breaks during my school years, over summers to visit my family, and then weekends when I was an adult and I finally moved 15 minutes away. It was always a dream of mine to live so close, but also to find someone who loved it as much as I did. Someone to enjoy the food, festivals, and rides with.

And that's where Chris comes in.

I had been in the Expedition Everest Single Rider line one afternoon. I told myself I was going to finally try it. Was I excited? No. Terrified? Absolutely.

I sat in the last row of the roller coaster, when this tall brunette slid in next to me. We were instructed to lower the bar and 'Enjoy the ride!'

Everyone ahead of us was chattering quietly as we ascended the track to the top. I was grabbing the bar with my life, my knuckles starting to turn white. I heard a soft chuckle and glanced to my right.

"First time?" he asked.

I nodded my head. "Unfortunately. I'm used to rides like the Haunted Mansion or the Little Mermaid. Those are more my speed." This time he laughed a little harder.

"I"m so glad that my pain and suffering can bring a stranger so much joy," I rolled my eyes.

We get to the top of the track and stop. Soon an announcement comes on that the ride will start back up shortly and to stay seated. "Mother fucker.." I mumbled before I heard the man next to me say "Language!" I whipped my head around and looked at him a little closer. He dawned a pair of sunglasses, a Patriot's cap, and a beautiful full beard. He pulled his sunglasses down a little, and I was soon pierced by the most beautiful eyes I've seen on screen before.

"Shut the front door," I gasped as he shot me a wink before pushing his glasses back up. "Stop. What are you doing here?" I asked, finally realizing who I sat next to.

"Just wanted to get a quick trip in before I..." he hesitated for a moment "before I go back to work." Obviously, he wasn't going to tell me what 'work' entailed (but a few years later, I found out it was Avengers: End Game).

"Of course. Just my luck. The day I get stuck on my first roller coaster, and sit on the verge of an anxiety attack, it's with you," I buried my face into my hands.

"Hey. At least I can relate to that. Been there. Done that. Bought the t-shirt." This time, I was laughing until I heard another announcement. The ride was starting up shortly.

My heart dropped and I went back to white-knuckling the bar. I soon felt a large hand engulf mine. "You'll be okay. I promise." And soon, we were off.

My heart was racing the entire time, but I think it was also because Chris' hand never left mine. We screamed, albeit for different reasons, but it was...exhilarating.

Soon after, the coaster came to a stop and everyone was getting out. I was still sitting when I heard "You coming?" and turned to see that Chris was holding his hand out. I took it, stepped from the seat, and we walked towards the exit.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked, as we stepped off to the side, just outside of the exit.

"Well..my heart is still pounding, and I can't decide if I want to go grab lunch now, or after riding that again," I smiled as I look up at him, greeted with a smile of his own.

"Well..how about we ride it again, and then I'll buy you lunch?" he asked.

"Oh. You don't have to. I'm sure you have other plans for toda-"

"I did," he cut me off. "But it'd be more fun to do them with someone than by myself. Besides. You deserve a good lunch for facing your fears today."

And from that day on, everything was history.

I gave him my number that night, and told him that if he were ever at Disney again, to contact me. And to my surprise, he actually did the next time he was in town.

And he did it again.

And again.

It went on for about a year before he asked to make it official between us. I was in shock, but I couldn't say no. I had fallen in love with my new Disney friend, so I gave it a shot. It was hard at first, with him always away filming or in Boston, but we made it work.

I found myself flying a few times to see him and he would fly down to see me when he could. We kept everything strictly out of social media, both for his sanity and my safety.

After almost two years, we were sitting down at his kitchen table when we decided that I would move in with him. He said he'd take care of me, that I wouldn't have to work anymore, but I enjoyed my line of work. Yes, I had hard days, and sometimes came home complaining, but doesn't everyone? I told him I'd continue working if I moved in with him, and he was fine with it.

He was actually fine with a lot of things. And so understanding. He was always there when I was dealing with my anxiety, when I was home sick and needed to visit my family, or even when I just needed to be near him. Not in an affectionate way, but just being in the same room as him made some of those hard days better.

Whenever he was away filming, he always made a point to call or FaceTime me once a day (he said he tried to because he loves me; I think it's because I always had Dodger pictures ready to send, or to have on screen for him).

When Chris finished his most reason film, he promised a short vacation. I was over the moon when I found out we were going to Disney World.

It was a relaxing trip, and something that we both needed. We visited all of the parks, rode all of our favorite rides, and even got to enjoy the flower festival at EPCOT (he said he made the plans for exactly that reason because he remembered it was my favorite festival). It was such a magical few days but of course, all good things must come to an end.

The last night of our trip, we were standing at the small bridge in the Italy Pavilion. I was standing against the railing, with Chris right behind me. His arms were wrapped around my stomach, while mine were placed over his. EPCOT had just started their nightly show, but all I could think was how truly happy I was at that moment in my life.

I leaned back a little more into Chris, and squeezed his hands a little tighter.

"Everything okay, baby?" he asked as he kissed just above my right ear.

I turned my head to look up at him and smiled. "Everything is perfect, my love."

"Good," he said, as he leaned down to give me a slow and sweet kiss.

I turned back to watch the fireworks when Chris started whispering into my ear. "You know how much I love you, baby, right?"

"Almost as much as you love Dodger," he chuckled at my response. "Baby..Dodger may be the moon that brought light to a dark time in my life, but you are my world and sun. You…You are my everything. You've allowed me to be me, and been very accepting of my lifestyle. You have never questioned any choices I've made, and you've been with me every step of the way for these past few years."

I turned my body to look at him. My hands running up and down his arms, as his hands laid on my waist, and my eyes catching those beautiful, ocean blue eyes.

"I do all that because I love you, Chris. You know that," I said before I leaned up to kiss his cheek, his nose, and then his lips. I lingered for a second longer, before I pulled back to look at the man in front of me.

"And I want everyone to know how much I love you, baby."

I was a little confused, as we've done anything and everything to keep our relationship to ourselves and family. But everything soon clicked when he took a step back and knelt onto one knee. He had reached into his pocket to retrieve a small, red box.

When he opened it, my eyes flew from the ring to his face. He was starting to look a little blurry, but that might have been due to the tears that were starting to run down my face.

"I'm willing to take on anything life throws at me, as long as you are by my side. Y/N..will you do me the honors of marrying me?"

I couldn't get a word out, but I was soon nodding my head, getting down to his level, placing my hands on either side of his face, and kissing him.

"Yes," I was finally able to say and the few bystanders around us started to cheer. There was a Disney photographer capturing the entire moment, and I was elated to see the pictures later on.

But at that moment, after he had slipped the ring on my finger and kissed me under the fireworks, nothing else mattered.

Because I was finally getting my happily ever after.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cold Hands

Jackson Neill x Reader

For @storiesofsvu​​​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @detectivebarba. Followed up in Cozy Sweaters​

Warnings: NSFW (smutty lines, no smut). Angst, cheating, breakup.

OK, so, my fluffy Jackson fics take place in a world where Sarah never happened or after she & Jackson broke up… But what if they didn’t? 

1,800 words

“Here’s another one: ‘Professor Neill is super dreamy. He’s a PILF.’ What’s a PILF?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t read these comments. I don’t care,” Jackson replied with irritation. He did, and he does, but he wasn’t going to let some cultist make him out to be an exploitative, charismatic leader.

“But you did ‘eff’ a student, right?”

Jackson laughed nervously under the hot stage lights.

“Any chance you had a sexual relationship with a student you used for a source in your article?” Cal Roberts, the man sitting across the news set from him, raised an eyebrow innocently, reveling in the way his little ace in the hole had Jackson pinned.

“Of course not. That would be unethical.”

“Right, right.”

How the fuck did he find out? When Sarah chose to go back to the Meyerist Movement instead of listening to reason, he didn’t think she would tell anyone. Their fringe movement was dangerous—restrictive to personal freedoms. Letting them know that she was his source would have put her in danger. The fact that one of its leaders knew blindsided him.

He was tense for the rest of the debate, and the cameras picked up on it. He looked like an asshole. The cult won this round as far as the audience was concerned.

As the cameras turned off and the PA came to unclip his mic, Jackson stepped close to Cal and said, low enough not to be overheard, “I did care about her. I do. Tell her I miss her, and I hope she’s OK.”

Guilt over their affair swirled in his gut as he walked off the set—and came to a screeching halt as he ran into you.

You had been sitting in the vacant live-audience area to watch the filming, but you were standing now, as if you’d gotten up to meet him but froze halfway there and were just… staring. Your eyes were dull.

“Who was he talking about?” you asked in a small voice.

Anger he could have handled. His ex-wife was always screaming at him for his screw-ups. But this was something worse.

He could have placated you with lies. Told you that everything with Sarah was before he met you, but you were too clever for that—too interested in his research not to realize when he started using her as a source. Besides, you didn’t deserve to be lied to again. If he hoped to salvage his relationship with you, then you deserved the truth from now on.

“Listen, let’s just… go home and talk.”

You silently nodded.

***

A thick silence haunted the car ride home, punctuated only by the howl of autumn wind through the dark city streets.

On the ride to the studio, you had been so animated, helping him prepare for the debate. You would pretend to be a Meyerist and argue against him so Jackson could practice his response. He put his hand on your thigh, and it was so warm. You squealed at his icy fingertips, but instead of batting them away, you shoved them deeper between your thighs. “Someone has to help your bad circulation,” you declared with a grin. “Can’t let you get frostbite.” He could barely focus on the road.

Now, when he tried to say something… to broach the subject… you only stared out the passenger window at the passing streetlights and bare trees.

He reached out to touch you, but you shrugged him off.

***

Jackson couldn’t have known the deafening chaos of that car ride home. His home, not yours, though you had all but moved in. You’d been planning to make it official when your lease was up, but now you would have to renew it.

You’d have to let your roommates know you’d be staying.

All these little thoughts swarmed through your head like post-it notes caught in a cyclone—reminders of a million mundane plans falling apart and being remade. The logistics of separating two entangled lives. Would you take your houseplant back or leave it in Jackson’s kitchen? There was never enough light for it in your apartment.

If you started thinking about the big things—who was the student? How long? How many nights did he say he was working late when he was with them?—then you might fall apart.

The car was silent, but inside your head was an endless dark roar.

Jackson parked in the driveway, and without a word, you began wandering through the house like a ghost, picking up your things and packing them up in a plastic garbage bag. Half your wardrobe was here. It should take two trips, but if you had to come back… if you had to see him again, and he asked you to stay, you might be too weak. So you’d have to get everything in one trip.

Your feet shuffled lifelessly into the bathroom to retrieve your toiletries when Jackson squeezed through the door in front of you and blocked the sink.

“Stop. Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t want to know his name.”

The obvious thought was, maybe it wasn’t true. That Meyerist guy would have said anything just to make Jackson look bad. But if that were the case, Jackson would have told you so right away. He didn’t, and he wasn’t even trying to sell you an alternate fiction to exonerate himself. For a cheater, he was honest. Jackson never lied to you, so you used to think. That was why this… this was so unexpected. You never saw it coming.

You tried to get around him, but he kept getting in the way of your toothbrush until you looked at him. “She wasn’t a student. She was participating in one of my classes as a guest speaker. She’s not even enrolled at the university. He made it sound as if—”

“DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S THE PART I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH?!” you screamed.

Your anger had been so seething, quiet, you didn’t even realize you were angry until you finally opened your mouth and fury poured out like dragon’s fire. It caught you both by surprise. You shoved past him to grab your toothbrush and marched back out into the master bedroom without another word.

Tears pricked the back of your eyelids. You didn’t like yourself when you lost control like that, especially knowing how his ex had been. How much he flinched at raised voices. Part of you wanted to turn around and hold him, comfort him, apologize. Then you felt sick that that was your first impulse after what he did.

Maybe the bastard deserved it.

“I… just wanted you to know I’m not some kind of… of predator.” He sounded like a child, his voice high and thin.

You turned.

He looked so pathetic standing there in the bathroom with his rumpled shirt hanging off fallen shoulders, his eyes shining wet and desperate.

“Why?” you asked. It was the only question you could ask. The only one that mattered—if it even mattered. You heard your voice breaking as if it were in another room.

“It was just supposed to be research. I chatted her up to learn about the Meyerist Movement… It wasn’t cheating, at first. I never meant to let things go that far. But she was so smart, but vulnerable… I thought I could help her get out. I thought she was ready to leave religion behind, like I did. She was so much like I used to be. Before I knew it, I was falling in love with her. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Tears escaped your eyes, but you didn’t want them to. You didn’t want him to see you cry over him. “So you love her?”

“No! I love you—I chose you,” he croaked. “It’s been over for a long time. She was only using me to help her research the history of Meyerism. When I realized that...” He took a few steps toward you, but you took one back to stay out of reach.

You let out a bark of cynical laughter. “So I was your fallback? The one who actually cared about you? Supported you? It was too hard having this woman lean on you for help, so you just used me the same way?”

“That… that isn’t—”

“You don’t love me. I’m just a soft place for you to land. If she patiently waited at home for you, you would have left me, wouldn’t you?”

“It was a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. Please...”

“The worst part is, I thought you were better than this. I believed in you. You were always so cuddly and domestic, the kind of guy you settle down with—I thought I finally found a man I could trust.”

“You can. It will never happen again. I’ll spend my whole life making up for it if I have to.”

Unlike the tightly clenched tear ducts on your face, regularly scrubbed dry with the back of your sleeve, Jackson’s tears were freely flowing down his cheeks. He tried to hold you, but you shoved his cold touch away.

It was too late for that. His arms were not comfort anymore.

All you could see was him wrapping those arms around her. All while you were cooking him dinner, being so understanding of his late nights, waiting for him to come home. Never knowing. Never thinking he would betray you.

He must have washed her scent off him. Did he scrub his cock with soap twice just to make sure you wouldn’t taste her on him when you knelt between his knees? Did he think about her hair when he was pulling yours? Imagine her lips wrapped around him?

Was she better than you? Was that why he did it?

Did he finger her the same way, slow and gentle, before fucking her? You wondered if he murmured the same praises, told her she was taking him so well, if he gave that same breathy, “fuck,” just before he came inside her.

Weren’t you enough? What did you do so wrong that he needed to cheat?

Finally, you began to sob. Your whole body rocking, shoulders heaving in big gasping breaths. He took advantage of the moment and hugged you tight, whispering shallow promises meant to be comforting, and you could tell his heart was breaking at the sight of you in pain.

You let him hold you, just for a moment, because it still felt so good—he still felt like home.

But you were sobbing for broken plans. For the apartment lease you would have to renew when you had been looking forward to moving in. For the dog you and Jackson wanted to adopt from the shelter. For the Airbnb you booked in Vermont for leaf-peeping season that would have to be canceled.

His cheating hands felt cold on your back, but you let him hold you a little bit longer, because despite everything, your heart was breaking for him, too.

Because this would be the last time he ever held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● • @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[cuppajj]

For your little Send Me A Character thing and you already know who it is... OVERLORD!!!

you know me so well. and/or it’s not too hard to tell. probably the latter tbh bdhsbdbdbfbddv

Answers below cut!

First impression: Funny thing is that I had two first impressions of Overlord: one before I knew what IDW was, and the other after I did but before I read MTMTE and LSOTW. My very first impression was through a yt video and I was honestly really unimpressed. Like, wow nice character design, that looks so dull and boring! Where are the cool vehicle parts? Smh. I also heard that Overlord was supposed to be this super scary and murderous bot, but I never did research and just thought that that still meant he was probably a boring villain. Like, ANY villain can be touted as super scary and murderous, that doesn’t mean they’re actually good. But after I discovered what IDW was, and read a few things about OL (including fics and comic dubs that helped introduce me to his character), I immediately took everything back. Like OKAY, never mind, this guy sounds AWESOME. As someone who loves villains, I had a feeling he was right up my alley.

Impression now: Gotta be one of, if not my most favorite Transformers villain ever. While I'm unsure if he's in my top five favorite transformers characters, he's definitely in an echelon on his own, unbound by such a simple list. Overlord makes me inexplicably happy. He's a horrible, horrible person, and does horrible, horrible things, but he's fun. He's aside from almost every other TF villain; he doesn't need a sad backstory or heaping dumps of complexity to himself. He practically chose to be irredeemable and henceforth revels in it. Of course he has some things that you can feel bad for, but compared to other TF villains? There's not much. My personal lack of sympathy for him is what makes him all the more enjoyable to follow. Not to mention, he's a lot of fun to draw; I thought his design was lame at first, but it's quickly become one of my favorites. It's also easy and fun to draw, and the color choices are (at least in IDW's case) bright and colorful and fit my personal tastes! Overlord is just someone I love to hate. Every moment with him is as thrilling as it is terrifying. Again: fun. I could honestly break down into a novel on why I like him so much but that's for another day...

Favorite moment: I can't choose but honestly I really liked it when he burst through his restraints on the lost light. Not only was that shot amazing, but his reasoning was token to his character: he could've broken free at any time, but he didn't feel like it until he learned that Megatron was alive. What a freakin DRAMA QUEEN. I also liked his dumb quarrel with Tarn and their back and forth about who Megatron likes more.

Idea for a story: Overlord deserves to be the main villain of SOME transformers media. I have a couple of story ideas myself but since they're actually headcanon-fics, I couldn't get into detail about them here. But one of them is the entirety of Super God Masterforce but remade for the modern day, which I've been thinking of sharing sometime soon... [but also I want a whole spinoff of MTMTE where it's him, Tarn and the DJD, and Deathsaurus's crew lost on the other side of space, and they have to tolerate each other and be a dysfunctional family while they find their way back. Also another story with Overlord as Megan trying to understand wtf human life is like on his mission to be a politician. I have a lot of thoughts as you can see,,,]

Unpopular opinion: I really don't like that southern accent on him. They should've made Patrick Seitz use his Dio voice. TBH my voice claim for him is Tim Curry with like, the slightest of a british accent. So like the lord of darkness from Legend but a little less growly. Also why do people ship Overpan/Overmax it's really uncomfortable...

Favorite relationship: Him and Tarn. They're so chaotic and whiny, and it's fun to watch them bicker like children. Good lord put them in day care

Favorite headcanon: I did like this whole thing for PWT where I explained through a meme why Overlord was worthy of the Unicron matrix like an anti-prime, and I am STILL clinging on to it as part of my personal canon. Also, I feel like if Overlord hadn't gone the way of a gladiator, he would've used his perfect frame and his theatrics to be an actor or someone in whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of the beauty/modeling industry is

[ashintheairlikesnow]

writing request for whenever: Laken and Chris go to a dinosaur museum/exhibit

CW: Referenced past pet whump, mentioned negative stimming resulting in self-injury, pet whump (different character) with intimate whumper, grief, referenced parental death, trauma response, brief reference to true crime

Timeline: Chris is 25 years old in this piece

Rafael (Raf) first appears, unnamed, in this drabble from Chris’s early college days

Laken’s hand is warm in his, their fingers intertwined, as they stand underneath the hanging bones of an enormous ancient thing like a whale but entirely unlike it, too. Chris closes his eyes, swaying lightly side to side, humming softly as he imagines it, rows of teeth with some as big as his hand, moving through oceans older than anything he can imagine, chasing down prey.

The sun shines in through the all-glass windows that make up the other side of the atrium, warming against his shirt without prickling his skin. The lights are far up and away, and the sunlight is stronger. 

“Wow,” Laken murmurs, and he glances over at them to see their chin tipped back, liquid dark eyes focused on the recreated bones not so far above their head. “I’ve never been here before. Have you?”

Chris feels the hint of pain at the question, and for once it’s not in his head from memories but simply the aftermath of what he knows. “Yeah,” He answers, voice low and soft. “With my, my dad and mom. Long, um, a, a long time ago.”

Laken’s expression shifts, too, and they wince. “Sorry. I didn’t think about-”

“No,” Chris says, insists really, giving their hand a squeeze. They squeeze back, looking him over with the face they make when they’re reading his expression. He knows it’s going to happen for a while - the cut across his forehead is still bright and obvious against pale skin, although the one on his cheek is nearly healed up and gone. They’re searching, now, for signs it’ll happen again - that he’ll pull back into his head again, maybe take longer to come back out this time.

It’s-... it’s funny, now that he has the memories, he can remember his mother worrying over it, too. And his father’s soft reminders that the worry wouldn’t fix him, because fixing wasn’t what needed done.

It’s funny. To have been told no one loved him, and that was why he had to be remade into a pet, a sort of breathing toy, only to have it all break through with the constant reminders of what a fucking lie that had been.

He’s been reading about people who were kidnapped, lately. Staying up with Wikipedia open on his phone finding names and faces. The girl in Utah, the ones in Ohio, the boy in Nevada, that guy from the famous billionaire logging family who disappeared in California... all of them say, they told us we weren’t wanted by anyone else, for anything else. After a while, we believed them. What else could we do?

It’s... soothing, almost. They weren’t drugged to make it happen, but it did, anyway. It wasn’t Chris’s fault - there was no way he could have kept himself. 

But getting all of it back came at the cost of scaring everyone who loves him now, leaving them all worried he’ll hurt himself again.

He doesn’t think there’s anything else in there that can hurt any more than what’s already come out from behind the flat, cold white light in his mind. But they’re not certain.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, tilting his head and giving them a smile. “I’m, I’m, I’m okay, Laken. I promise. I, I, I, I-I-I like thinking ab, about them now.”

“Well... good. Okay. Just, let me know if I cross a line, okay?” 

“I, I will.” 

Laken gives his hand another squeeze and steps away to read a freestanding plaque below the bones of the belly of the creature over their heads. Chris picks up the feather necklace he’s always wearing, moving himself over to look outside, at the brilliant green lawn, the landscaping studded with blooming tulips along the walkway. There are plastic sculptures of dinosaurs out there, and Chris watches a little girl in a dinosaur-themed dress and leggings clamber up on one, giggling as she sits on the triceratops like she’s riding it and her father looks on, amused, nearby. 

The world feels strange and thin, for just a moment. He feels like he’s on the other side of a wall, and if he took a hammer to it he could step through and see himself, small and gangly and young, his mother nearby with a giant purse full of all the things he might need, her jaw set and ready to fight a battle on his behalf. One she didn’t always have to fight - but she was ready for it, anyway.

His eyes roam the green area outside, scanning, looking over every child, every parent, every friend. He’s looking for her, he realizes, his hand squeezing tight around the plastic feather, rubbing his thumb hard over the vanes. He’s looking to see if she’ll be there, ten years after she was gone. 

If all he’ll have to do is look hard enough, and she won’t be dead, she’ll be here, ready to load Tristan into the car to get his chicken nugget kids’ meal and go home.

If he only looks hard enough-

“What’s this one, sir?” The voice is soft, sweetly charming, and sends a chill up Chris’s spine with its perfect familiarity. Not that he’s ever heard this voice before - but he knows the tone, the way of rounding your mouth around each syllable, the subtle flirtation built into each word.

His heart stops beating - and then starts again, as he slowly turns to look over his shoulder.

Laken is across the room, now, off to one side. He can see their black hair, the way they stand with one hip slightly out is as familiar to him as his own skin. The soft blue sweater they’re wearing over black jeans and boots is his, they pulled it on this morning with a laugh when he said it looked better on them. He’s wearing one of their shirts over his compression shirt, fair’s fair, sweetheart, you get mine if I get yours. They’d laughed and said he looked so good in t-shirts for bands he never listened to. They’d both laughed.

Between him and his partner, though, is a couple - an older man with a much younger one. It’s the younger man who spoke.

The older man has a hand at the small of the younger man’s back, casually possessive, but it’s the black leather collar worn openly around the young man’s neck that catches Chris’s breath. He can almost feel the constriction around his own throat. Can almost feel the breath against the back of his neck as it’s buckled there, safe and sound, the collar means-

The collar-

The older man frowns, looking up at a large predator skeleton, then down at the plaque in front of it. “ Ac-... Arcanthosaurus,” He says, confidently mispronouncing the name. Chris knows how to say it. He knows exactly what it is. He could say everything on that plaque without looking. Therpopod, Early Cretaceous, fossils found primarily in Oklahoma, Texas, and... somewhere else, Colorado or Wyoming. He could describe its habitat, its likely diet, what its life looked like from birth to death.

The man says the name wrong, and his pretty pet, illiterate and dependent on him for every scrap of knowledge, doesn’t know any better. He only smiles and says, “That’s a pretty name.” He sounds satisfied.

But Chris sees his dark eyes flicker to the plaque and away, the curiosity quickly stifled and shoved down. He’s seen Kauri do the same thing, force himself into safe ignorance to avoid asking too many questions. He’s seen himself do it. He’s seen them all do it, if they weren’t allowed to read, to know, to ask, to think.

The younger man, Chris’s own age, has close-cropped black hair and wears a black shirt and pants clearly tailored to skim, to fit tightly without being indecent. To be a show of wealth without being ostentatious. That’s when it clicks - he’s seen the pet before, in a cafe with his friends. 

The younger man must feel someone looking at him, because for just a moment, his head turns and he looks right at Chris. Their eyes meet, and Chris knows the man recognizes - if not him, then what he was, what he used to be - in a second.

The pet mouths, hi, and tries for a slight smile. He lifts one hand, just a little, and his fingers move in a slight wave.

And Chris had pretended not to see, hunched down in his seat with his heart racing until the two were gone. What were the odds he’d see the same one again? What were the fucking odds, he’d get to be a coward again, to hide from his own life. What were he odds he’d see one here?

Chris had forgotten the museums are all pet-friendly if you call ahead. So many of the places he goes now aren’t. 

Suddenly, he wants to leave, to never come back, not to let the reality of his life intrude on the moment where he’d been so, so close to the memory of his mother, had nearly seen her on the grass. 

“Stay here, Raf, I’m going to step over to the water fountain.” The older man kisses the younger man’s cheek, and they smile at each other, but Chris knows a pet’s smile when he sees one. He’s made the same expression, again and again, felt the snap of white-hot pain on his back or his hands whenever it wasn’t believable enough for the handler staring down at him.

The older man walks away.

For the second time, Chris is faced with the same pet standing alone in a room of people, the two of them know each other in a way no one else here ever could, not really, not without losing it all, too.

He takes a breath.

Raf - the pet - turns to look out the window at the sunlight, and for the second time in his life, Chris meets eyes with a stranger who is, in many ways, exactly like him. 

The pet maybe doesn’t recognize him - without his long hair, and they only saw each other once - but he recognizes something, because his expression changes. Chris isn’t the only one staring - there are children asking soft questions in stage-whispers who are admonished by their parents, older kids staring openly in silence, two adults who see Raf and just as quickly leave the room. 

In a wide, round room full of people, Raf is utterly isolated from all of them, from anyone but the man who keeps him. Chris knows the feeling.

He tells himself to move. All that happens is that he pulls on the feather necklace so hard the cord snaps, comes free, and he stares down at it, before slowly raising his eyes again.

The pet gives him a faint, sad smile.

He mouths, hi.

It’s a circle. 

Somewhere just behind him, he feels the warmth of her, a hand around his shoulder. His eyes blur with tears. She’s so close, here. With the world she brought him out into comes all his memories of her, crowding in on him. Kisses to his forehead, a hand to check for a fever, arms around him to block out the heavy weight and shrieking noise of a hungry world with its jaws open to hurt him.

He can feel her hands on either side of his face, leaning her forehead to his, whispering, you’re okay, Tris, we’re going to get out of here and somewhere quiet, you’re okay. Just hold onto me. 

Just hold on.

She’s so close.

He can hear her, feel her. If he could just move the right way, she wouldn’t be dead at all. If he could just undo everything, if he could fix his mistakes, if he could stay still in the closet and hide just right, if he does it just right nobody has to die and he doesn’t have to lose them and no one has to die-

One step, and then another. His mother’s voice, not forgotten, although blurred by time and loss. That’s how we start, Tris. One step, and then another. You can do this. I’m right here if you need me, but listen - you won’t. You’ve got this, baby. They’re going to love you, all those kids in there.

How, how, how, how, how can you, what if they, they don’t-

They will. 

But-

One step, Tris, and then another. We’ve done it all that way, and we’ll do this that way, too.

He looks back at the green grass outside, the courtyard with the playing children and watching parents, the faint sounds of their happiness through the glass. Her hand is at his back, and Chris takes one step, and then another. His heart is in his throat, his hands shaking, his stomach is twisted in knots and a cold brick of ice inside him. 

One step, and then another. 

She’s so close, and if he does this just right, she’ll find him and take him home. 

No.

She’s already here, no matter where he goes. Home is Jake, and Laken, and Antoni, and Kauri, and Nat. Home isn’t a place, it’s people, and he’s his mother’s home, now, the place where she lives after she’s gone.

He closes the distance between them, and stops next to the pet, holding the broken feather necklace in his hand still. The weight of the sun on his back is warm, and not too heavy. 

They stand next to each other, and he looks just to the side of the pet’s eyes, focused on something else, to avoid the way looking right at him would overwhelm, be too much to take. 

“You were one,” Raf says, in a low voice, sounding stunned. “But you’re not... not now.” 

Chris inhales, slowly. His body screams at him to run, to move, and his mind demands he be silent, be still. Instead, he rocks, forward and back, feels the air move around him. Reminds himself he could do - could be - anything with his body that he wants to, now.

And maybe this pet can, too.

“I, I, I named myself, um, Chris,” He whispers, hoarsely. 

“He calls me Rafael,” The pet replies, and his eyes move over Chris’s face. There’s an expression Chris can’t read well there, a subtle desperate want, but expressions are hard for Chris and right now the static crackling in his mind, the trains of his thought careening wildly around each other, make it even harder. “I would have liked to name myself.”

One step, his mother says, urging him into the gym, where some other kids are already doing backflips and tumbling on mats. One step and then another.

“You can... can do that. If you, um, if, if, if you-you... run.”

“I-... I couldn’t do that.” The pet looks off to the side, but his owner is still in the bathroom. There’s fear in his voice - that Chris can read without trying. Fear, he knows so well. “Where would I go?”

Chris manages a faint, thin smile. He wants to shake apart. He settles for holding out the feather. “Home,” He whispers.

Come on, Tris. You can do this. I believe in you.

“Home is-”

“Home is, is, isn’t this. It isn’t-... it, it, it isn’t him. It’s not an, any of, of, of of of them.” 

“But-”

“5-5-5,” Chris says softly. Sweat sticks his compression shirt to his back, cold trickles down the back of his neck. His heart pounds so hard his lungs have no room for air, his voice is breathless, barely even a whisper, now. “7-2-3-3. They’ll, they’ll help you. Call them.”

Rafael looks down at the feather, and slowly takes the soft purple silicone into his hand, rubbing his fingers over the carved plastic, then looks back up. “I love him,” He says, softly. “I was-”

“Made for, for him,” Chris finishes, not wanting to hear it in the other pet’s voice. Hating the idea that they both know every single phrase by heart, forever, and they can’t undo that. “But... I was, was, was, too. And I’m not, now.”

Rafael slides the feather into his back pocket, looking to the side, at the pristine, cloudless blue sky visible above the courtyard through the thick glass. “5-5-5,” He says, softly, “7-2-3-3.”

“Call,” Chris says, his voice failing him as his fear keeps rising. He has to swallow and steady himself to speak again. “Someone... somebody, somebody l-loved you.”

“But-”

“They, they, they lied to us.” It feels so weird to say it out loud, but he does. He can’t stop himself. “They lie to, to, to to-... to-to... to us all. Someone, somebody loved you.”

He has to go, he can’t be still a second longer, and he walks away without waiting for a response. His timing is perfect - he steps up to Laken just as the pet’s owner comes back from the restroom, sweeping past Chris - pretty but scarred, nothing special, please god don’t look at me - and moving back to Rafael, who smiles up at him with the same perfect, pristine affection Chris has seen in himself and in Kauri and in every single one of the ones like them.

Practiced at the edge of a knife, the lash of a whip, the crack of a cane, until they can turn it on and off on command, at will, whenever they need the smile to keep themselves safe.

Laken turns to him as he stops next to them, looking him over, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “You okay? Oh, hey, your feather’s gone. What happened?”

He allows himself a glance over his shoulder, sees the pet and his owner moving to another room, walking together. The hand at the small of Rafael’s back.

The broken cords from the necklace just barely visible sticking out of his pocket before Chris watches him push them further in to hide them.

“I, I, I gave it to, um, to someone,” He says, turning back to them, leaning over to kiss their cheek, barely a brush. “I, I, I need to go outside. The, um, the everything... can, can we, um, can we go-”

“Yeah, sure. No problem. Do we need to, like, go go, or...”

“No.” Chris looks up at the dinosaur Rafael had been looking at. “Oh, I, I, forgot to tell him it’s acrocanthosaurus.”

“What?”

“Um, noth-... nothing. Let’s, um, let’s go outside for for for a while.” 

Laken hand slides back into his and they walk out the opposite door that Rafael went through, Chris’s hand moving to tap on his own hip as he walks, calming himself with each quick rush of sensation. 

“Hey, hey Laken?”

“Yeah?”

“Remind me, um, remind me to, to, to-to-to call Nat later. Okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

They walk down a set of stairs, people moving quickly past or around them. He misses the weight of the feather over his chest, but he has more at home. And now there’s a pet with proof, tangible and real, that there’s a life to be made by leaving. 

A life worth living.

A life worth running without looking back.

“I, I, I want to tell her to, um, to tell the groups to... to see if someone calls them. I want to, to, to... to know if he does.”

“Who?”

“Um, I’ll, I’ll tell you, you... out, out, outside, okay?”

Somewhere inside him, as his pounding heart calms, his mother says, I’m so proud of you when he tells her that he spoke up. 

He knows Nat will say it, too. 

They surprise a bird in a burst of red wings out of a bush as they move outside, and Chris watches it fly across the courtyard and disappear into the canopy of a tree. 

One step, and then another, to build the man he is out of the boy he was before.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @wildfaewhump

[cloudy-leonhart]

Independent Together (PART 2)

[Authors Note: it kinda took me a bit of time to write the second part, I didn’t like the first time I wrote it so I remade it lol.]

[Summary: A month had passed by since the incident, the survey corps seemed so different since then, waking up in pain, Reader woke up just in time, as the survey corps comes back from an expedition.]

Pairings: Poly!Hanji, Poly!Miche, Poly!Erwin, Poly!Levi, Poly!Nanaba x Reader.

Theme: Angst/Fluff.

TW: Swearing, Reader was in a coma, for a bit.

Recommended Song: If The World Was Ending - JP Saxe, Julia Michaels.

part 1 here!

[gif rightfully belongs to owner.]

It’s been a month. One month, you were still asleep, one month since the incident, there wasn’t a day where one of your lovers weren’t by your side, Levi held your hand and fed you food, he doesn’t consider the mixed mush food much but he fed it to you anyway, so you didn’t starve in your sleep.

Erwin came to check on you late at night, he would do his work by your bedside, holding your hand in one hand and reading his work in the other. Whenever he had the free time, he would come and visit you, he did his best to make you comfortable, even if you didn’t know it.  

Nanaba and Mike used to go together until they decided they want time alone with you. Nanaba would come in every time they had meals, everyday, for a month, she had her meals with you and only you, while you laid healing, she told you stories about how amazing her day went, or how much she misses your hugs and your comforting kisses. 

Mike would come and see you whenever he can, he would bring flowers that would remind him what you smelled like, he holds your hand and places soft kisses on it, he stays quiet during the whole thing, sometimes sleeping beside you. He wonders when you’ll wake up all the time, he asks the nurses for any update, whether that’s you waking up or you moving for a millisecond in your sleep.

Hanji comes almost every fifteen minutes, the nurses have to kick them out sometimes, everyday like Nanaba, they would share stories about their discoveries, it can be something as small as a new flower, or a new habit of titans, Moblit did think it was a bit weird seeing Hanji being in your room rather than doing some of their crazy experiments. 

Although they have one thing in common and that’s wondering if you’ll ever wake up, no matter how many times Levi comes and feeds you or Nanaba washes you with a rag or just make sure you’re healthy, it seemed like you were never going to wake up, it scares all of them, they held their expedition as far as they could, knowing that the higher-ups would be angry at them, but they couldn’t help but be selfish for once. 

The sleepless nights with the whole group, Hanji would sleep in Levi’s quarters or Erwin’s because you weren’t there to cuddle with them anymore, Levi always grabs two teacups instead of one until he realizes that you didn’t brew tea like you did for him every morning and his mood is ruined after. Erwin can’t do his work properly without reminiscing how you would give him back hugs and snuggle your face into the crook of his neck.

Mike and Nanaba would always be together because Nanaba couldn’t spend twenty minutes away from you without crying. They were trying their best to be strong and set an example for their cadets, but with every day you were unconscious, the more they break, every cadet could see it and they too, felt bad about how restless their superiors looked.

---

It was another day, you’ve been stuck in a black abyss for what seems like forever, you couldn’t open your eyes, you couldn’t move your body. You listened in your little head while every one of your lovers talked to you. You tried hard to wake up and tell them you’re okay, but you gave up and let yourself rest, maybe if you let yourself rest you’ll be able to move as soon as your body’s got the energy.

So everyday for a month, you listened to the stories of Hanji and Nanaba, you listened to Levi’s scoldings, you listened to Erwin’s pleas for advice on what to do, you listened to Mike’s quiet smooches on your hand. 

You were a little bit curious on why any of your lovers were yet to come and visit you, it was uncomfortably silent, you were sure that breakfast was almost finished and Nanaba was yet to come and tell her about any stories, you felt your hand twitch, you realized your body was waking up and you tried your best, to get up as fast as you could. 

“ngh..” A sound came out from your mouth, a nurse who was on shift, taking care of you looked over to her side, to see you awake and coughing, she froze for a moment before helping you sit up, seeing you struggle to get up from the frigid mattress used by the infirmary. “Miss Reader! You..You’re awake?” The nurse exclaimed, her tone sounded like she was questioning. “What..What’s going on?” You squinted your eyes, the morning light stung your eyes as a headache pounded over and over again.

You covered your eyes as the nurse checked up on your status, seeing if anything looked out of the ordinary. “I’ll bring you some breakfast, please don’t leave your bed,” She took hold of a metal bowl, rags were in it, you assumed it was used to wash you, “You haven’t left bed in a month and I’m sure your legs won’t be able to carry you after not moving a while.”

You didn’t bother to nod at the nurses warning as you laid back down, your headache to overbearing and the light stung your eyes too much, you covered your eyes with your arm, wincing at the sound of the door slamming shut. 

You waited for a good thirty minutes, before a nurse came back in with a tray of food, you sat up painfully as the nurse placed the tray on your lap, greeting you goodbye and leaving the infirmary to give you privacy. You didn’t miss the tasteless soup, but the bread was edible.

You sat in your bed all morning, finishing your breakfast portion by portion, reading a book Levi left from his night shift, you were pretty bored without your lovers, you wonder how worried your lovers are, not knowing whether they’d see your happy smile again or even as such as a glance from your beautiful eyes.

A bunch of muffled hooves galloping broke you out of your thoughts, you looked out of your window, squinting for a few seconds, you recognized your lovers’ horses. You felt your heart quicken, you saw from the dirty fogged window, Hanji’s blurred face, you could tell that they seemed tired, they weren’t as bubbly as normal and that worried you.

You saw someone walk up to them, Levi you thought, his height was unfortunately the first detail you managed to identify about them. You watched as Levi helped Hanji down, you didn’t bother to continue watching as you wanted to feel your lovers’ arms around you again. You stood up from your bed, your long night-gown fell off the bed like a waterfall, following your actions, you felt your legs become wobbly, which you held onto the bedside table to stabilize yourself.

“Miss Reader! Please go back to bed, you’re still weak!” The nurse scolded, seeing you get up from bed, you looked over to the nurse with a pleading expression, “I know, just let me see them, I haven’t seen them in so long.” The nurse opened her mouth to protest before closing it and sighing, she reached a hand beside her, it emerged with a pair of crutches in her hands. “Let’s go, Miss Reader.” Her voice was motherly as she helped you on the crutches. 

You quickly grabbed the crutches, you felt way better shifting your weight from foot to foot while walking out of the infirmary, your nurse beside you to give your additional support just in case. You limped as fast as you could to the nearest exit that lead to the outside of the headquarters. 

You felt your heartbeat fasten with every step, you missed your lovers so much, you couldn’t fight with your excitement as you come closer and closer with the exit, you begged that they would bust into the building, as if a god answered your pleas, it opened, Eren showed himself, aside him Armin and Mikasa, who was mumbling a storm. Eren looked to the side of him to see you, frozen mid-limp. 

“Reader?” He said out loud, Mikasa and Armin looked over to where Eren gazed, “Oh my god!” the trio ran towards you as you braced yourself for the impact, you felt three pairs of arms hug your body, as you winced with how tight Mikasa’s hold on you was. “Reader, the superiors was so worried about you! We thought you’d never wake up,” Armin cried out, “It was so quiet without you.” Mikasa mumbled out, a worried tone in her voice.

“I’m awake now, right? I thought you’d be relieved since there would be no one to help Hanji capture Eren for their experiments.” You laughed, which turned into coughing as the trio still looked at you worriedly. “Oi, Eren, where the fuck are you, did you forget you had cleaning du-” A familiar voice called out, you turned your head towards the voice, your eyes made contact with the cold, steel-like blue-grey eyes you fell in love with. 

“Levi..” You called out, you felt tears start to form in your eyes as he just stood shocked, you were there, standing, you were blinking, breathing. You were alive. He felt overwhelmed, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, Hanji walked in after him, they looked confused as they just stared at Levi’s shocked expression. “Levi?-” Levi pushed through Hanji and stomped towards you, you felt yourself sweat out of worry, he stopped in front of you and lettng out staggered breaths, “I..was so..worried, idiot.” His voice was breathy, as he pulled you in his arms.

The sound of your crutches dropping to the floor made Hanji turn around, they too froze, they watched as you and Levi dropped to the floor with a thud. They felt themselves tear up with you, they couldn’t keep their emotions in, they yelled out, “Reader!!” They cried out, running towards you and Levi, joining into your hug. You laughed through your tears as you nuzzled yourself tighter into Levi’s and Hanji’s arms, you could smell their scents, Hanji smelt like oranges and peonies, a hint of cleaning products, probably from their lab.

Levi smelt like black tea and the smell of soap, you expected it as you scrunched up his shirt in your hand. You could feel Hanji’s tears dropping into your hair, you could feel levi’s hand tightening their grip around your hair. “We missed you so much,” Hanji’s voice was muffled, it was broken and hiccups accompanied their sentence. 

“Mike! Erwin! Nanaba!” Hanji yelled out as you stayed quiet, trying your best to enjoy the embrace Levi and Hanji’s providing you. “Hanji?! What’s wrong?” Erwin’s voice called out, worry laced in his voice, getting closer. “She’s awake! Reader’s awake!” Hanji’s voice broke into joyous sobs as they continued hugging you, you half-laughed as you pulled away from Levi’s neck. You felt your tears stream down your face.

You heard the loud running of the rest of your lovers, Nanaba burst in first, she stopped at the door, panting as their eyes made contact with your teary ones. “Holy..crap. You idiot!!” Nanaba yelled out, not bothering to keep her emotions in as she sobbed, running straight for you, Levi and Hanji backed to the side to not get caught into her tackle towards you.

You let out a yelp as you and Nanaba collided and fell to the ground. She sobbed in your shouders, holding your waist tightly. You held onto her back as she shed her tears onto your night-gown, you didn’t care though, you were just happy you could hold onto Nanaba once again. 

You looked up from Nanaba’s neck, you glanced at Mike and Erwin who let out a sigh of relief as they kneeled right in front of you and Nanaba, you chuckled softly, pulling Mike to the hug and urging Erwin to join.

“I’m sorry for leaving you guys for so long, you look miserable without me.” You laughed out, as they laughed with you. Armin pulled Mikasa and Eren away to give you guys a moment to reconnect and just be with each other. Erwin and Mike helped you up as Levi grabbed you crutches and held onto it. Your lovers led you to a bench and sat you down as they bombarded you with thoughts of worry and love, happiness. 

“You don’t know how lonely we were without you, Reader.” Erwin sighed out, holding your hand tightly as you chuckled weakly, “lonely? I would’ve swore Hanji would’ve been able to bug you as much I did.” Hanji whined at the mention of their name, the vets knew they were supposed to be in their offices doing their work, but you were awake! How could they just greet you and go?

Nanaba let out louder and happier cries as she hugged you tighter, you smiled and patted her head, “There, there, Nanaba. I’m here now so stop crying, or you’re going to dehydrate yourself.” You scolded with a playful tone as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“We’re just,” Nanaba let out a sniffle, “we’re just really happy to see you awake again, it was so agonizing when you weren’t here to respond to me and Hanji’s stories, or when Erwin would—“ a hand covered Nanaba’s mouth, “Okay, that’s enough. I think Reader gets the point.” Erwin tried to save himself from embarrassment.

In which you did honour, by not telling them you heard all of them in your sleep.

“You better bet your ass, you’re never leaving our sights again after this.” Levi called out, leaning against the wall. You sighed softly before putting a smile on, “Reasonable.”

“We’re happy to see you awake and up again, Reader. We love you so much.” Mike kissed the top of your head, getting a slight whiff of your hair, which surprisingly smelled fine even though you haven’t taken a proper shower in a month.

You felt your cheeks heat up a small bit, you held onto Nanaba’s hand as she argued about how disgusting it was for Erwin to put his hand on her mouth, just after an expedition.

You leaned your hair onto Hanji’s shoulder before finally letting your eyes rest a bit, just enjoying your reunion with your lovers once more, finally you mumbled out,

“I love you guys too.”

[avenueofesc]

Branches Remade

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Remake. I don’t know how I feel about my first attempt, so figured I’d write something else completely different. Whereas there you had angst, here you’ll find fluff.

“Don’t peak!” Teddy snapped at Harry.

“You’ve blindfolded me with three ties, Teddy. I couldn’t even if I tried,” Harry huffed a laugh as he stumbled down the hallway, arms stretched wide to grasp at the walls as he followed his godson’s voice.

“Wait here.” Harry paused and heard a door swing open, followed by whispered voices, before a hand gently wrapped around his wrist and began to pull him forward.

After a few clumsy steps, they stopped in what Harry assumed was the middle of a room. “Okay, can I look yet?”

“Almost,” Teddy replied from in front of him. Harry felt warm fingers brush his shoulder before they grasped the knots at the back of his head keeping the blindfolds over his eyes.

“Okay,” whispered a voice in Harry’s ear. “You can look.”

The blindfolds fell away and Harry opened his eyes, adjusting for a moment as his vision was suddenly awash with light. After a few seconds, he focused on the tapestry in front of him. It was familiar and yet so new, and Harry couldn’t prevent a soft gasp from escaping him as he took in the differences.

The Black Family Tapestry no longer had burns scorching out family members. Harry stared in awe as Sirius’s face smiled out at him. Stumbling forward, Harry ran his fingers gently against his godfather’s name before noticing there was something altogether new leading from it. A thin, glittering silver line weaved from where it was wrapped around Sirius’s branch of the tree.

Harry’s breath caught as he saw where it lead. There, at the bottom of the tapestry, was Harry’s name. Wrapped around it, the line continued onwards until reaching yet another name—Teddy Lupin.

Teddy stood next to the tapestry, a grin splitting his lips and his cheeks flushed. “You’re part of the family. We wanted to make sure everyone knows.”

Harry remembered the whispered voices as he waited in the corridor, the warm body at his back as Teddy spoke in front of him. His eyes flickered over Teddy’s proud face before he turned to look behind him and gazed into piercing grey eyes.

A soft smile graced Draco’s sharp face and Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. “You, too?”

Draco didn’t break Harry’s gaze. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he nodded, “Me, too.”

AO3

[catpella]

Avatar

FFXIV write prompt: Avatar.

Valle and Ysayle discuss Shiva.

2022 words. Set during early Heavensward Road Trip. Early ship signs definitely visible.

From the first, Valle wondered what it was like to be Shiva.

The first time she watched Lady Iceheart transform, her heart nearly stopped in awe, so overcome by what she was watching that she had no ability to. She watched as the aetherical power of the gathered crystals was pulled into Iceheart's body, as large shards of ice wrapped themselves around her and encased her as she spoke, as the night sky rippled and auroras blossomed in the heavens as the world remade itself in that location, and as it transfigured and remade her. Ice swept the arena and turned a flesh-and-blood woman into what appeared to be ice-made-flesh, skin and hair varying shades of ice in hue.

The primal hovered before them, and the part of her mind that was still analytical noted the deep blue of the hands contrasting with the paler skin and how the hair narrowed into crown spikes of ice, and wondered if it was just coloration or texture as well. She radiated lethality and beauty in equal amounts, and for the first time, Valle understood why people would worship primals.

This being drew her in a way she had not been drawn to Leviathan, or Garuda, or any other primal she'd faced. She yearned to step closer, to be embraced by ice, to feel that aether stir around her.

Was this tempering?

It couldn't be. She had the Echo. She could not be tempered.

Could she be? The other primals she'd faced had been shaped by minds and hearts of the beast tribes, not by those of the main Spoken races, those who believed in the Twelve. And this being before them, clad in ice and full of righteous conviction, could well be a reflection of the Fury herself. Was that why she was swaying towards her, step by step, drawn in?

"Primal's active! Summon your carbuncle and fight," hissed a familiar voice from down and to her left. Broken from her trance, Valle startled, and switched to the fight, where the blizzard battered and beat her.

After the fight, when she laid in a camp with some fellow primal-slayers who worked for the Scions, her dreams were full of ice, and snow, of being battered by the primal that changed the ice into weapons to fling at her, and of course, of the woman who effortlessly controlled it all. When she woke, she sat near the fire with her journal, and wondered what kind of woman had the convictions and faith to use herself as a primal. To talk about her desire for resolving the war, that no sacrifice would be too great, to make of herself a sacrifice to the energies of a primal... What type of person was Iceheart? Valle yearned to understand the woman who could channel the power of primals, and didn't understand why her desire was so strong.

~*~

Months later, Lady Iceheart began to travel with the small group. She slowly ceased to be Iceheart and became Ysayle. Traveling with the woman whose powers had haunted her thoughts both sleeping and waking meant Valle's wondering about her had the chance to be answered, but she didn't want to come across like Alphinaud, incessantly asking questions about people's abilities with no regard for their feelings. So she watched Ysayle as they traveled, casting glances at her when she thought she wasn't looking, watching how she handled threats when they had to fight hostile wildlife, seeing how ice aether stirred around her.

"What does it feel like, to be Shiva?" was constantly on her mind, but she kept it from her lips, and instead engaged Ysayle in other types of conversation in the quiet nights of camping. Valle told stories of where she came from, of growing up on Vylbrand's shores and swimming like a fish. Then as they climbed into Dravania and further mountainsward, she told stories of what she remembered of living in Gyr Abania, contrasting the different mountainscapes. Talking about a lost homeland triggered Ysayle to discuss bits and pieces of her life before Ishgard and Coerthas fell to the snow with Valle.

"There's something else you want to talk about, isn't there?" Ysayle asked her one night, when the others had gone to bed and Valle was sitting the watch alone with only a carbuncle for company. "I see how you watch me."

Valle briefly considered a flirtatious joke. She _did_ find Ysayle, the woman, beautiful and compelling. Would have even if she didn't carry the Echo, Hydaelyn's blessing, and the power to become a primal but not one enthralled and subverted. But she suspected if she said, that she'd be in a different type of trouble with the lady. Asking about her abilities felt the safer option.

"I wonder about your magic," she said.

"About how I channel Shiva, without losing myself."

"Yes. How it is that you can pull the aether from the crystals into yourself, how you can manifest the Shiva ideal without losing your will, if it is the blessing we both bear that lets you do it without being subsumed... I've fought several primals that beast tribes summoned, creating them out of aether and them dissipating away. You're the first to enact one within yourself, and it just...fascinates me." She reached out and stroked her hand over the emerald carbuncle as she spoke, voice faltering as she worried she was being Alphinaud.

"So many questions," Ysayle said, pale eyes glinting a more greenish hue from the carbuncle's light. "I have no answers for you, for I don't think of it in such a _scientific_ way."

"You were taught to summon. I assumed it was at least somewhat scientific in the instructions. And I'm an arcanist, I can't quite help the scientific approach," she said a little ruefully.

"I was shown how to pull the aether into myself to empower the change," Ysayle corrected her. "Actually becoming Shiva... it's a matter of faith. I know of Saint Shiva. I believe in her. And then I become her, joining her will with mine."

"You see yourself as an avatar of her? Or as a vessel?" Valle asked.

"Do you see them differently?"

"Yes..." she said, then added, "a vessel is hollowed out and made into the puppet of another's will, an avatar takes that power and embodies it with control."

"What an interesting distinction. Empowered or powerless." Ysayle's voice was suddenly icy.

Valle stared at the Elezen woman who had gone suddenly cold, mentally imposing Shiva's countenance over her face, seeing the similarities and differences. "I apologize if I've insulted you."

"I know you're just trying to understand it. I just can't help you," Ysayle said. "I have faith in Shiva, and it carries me through. That's all I need."

"Faith..." Valle repeated under her breath.

"What do you believe in?" Ysayle asked, after the silence had lingered long enough that Valle assumed the conversation was over.

"You're not the first to ask me that. Gaius Baelsar asked if I believed in Eorzea, in the Twelve, if they were primals."

"And what did you say?"

"Nothing. There was a fight going on," she said dryly.

"And do you?"

"I don't believe they're primals." If she looked at it logically, maybe they could be, but - she'd been raised in her faith in Rhalgr and He was not a primal who took from the land and the people and gave nothing back, not like Ifrit.

"Do you think someone could be an avatar of them?"

"I never really thought about it," she admitted.

"If someone could be an avatar of Halone, why not an avatar of a Saint?"

Valle sucked air through her teeth, not expecting Ysayle to have turned the questioning around on her like this. "I'm not sure."

"Seems like you have some faith of your own, even if you're not clear on it. You know what I think? That you ask how I become Shiva not just because you want to understand it from a scientific reasoning, to break it down into your equations," she said with a nod at Valle's grimoire, "but because you want to know if it's from our blessing. You want to know if you could do it too."

Valle hadn't been thinking of that consciously. She wanted to understand primal summoning to stop it, like the Scions' mission was for. Knowing the difference between Shiva, and Ramuh, and Leviathan and Ifrit, would be able to tell them so much. Thinking about _her_ becoming a conduit for that aether and power hadn't been on the agenda.

And yet, if you understood how it was done, didn't it mean you could do it yourself? In times of need?

Ysayle leaned forward, more animated now. "What would you sacrifice yourself for? What cause do you believe in above all else?"

"The pursuit of knowledge. The preservation of the world. Peace between warring factions," she said, but her voice was weak and unconvinced, and they both heard it.

"Not strong enough to use the power. You have to _mean_ your cause with all your heart, to pursue it at all costs, to be willing to lay down anything for it," and now Ysayle had become Iceheart and her eyes shone a more unearthly silver as she spoke. "Until you know that, you understand nothing of becoming an avatar, even if you had it dissected into a hundred of your tidy equations."

"You're right," Valle said. She felt ashamed that her conviction was weak, embarrassed to be so thoroughly taken to task, and the desire to look away from the intense gaze of the fervent woman before her was strong.

But there was a compelling counter-desire to keep staring at her and drinking in the power that radiated from her, not the ice aether that lashed out when Ysayle was Iceheart was Shiva, but the intensity of belief that made her radiant like the moon, luminous and impossible to stare away from.

"I wish I was like you," she blurted.

The moment passed, the fervor fading and the zealot becoming just another woman looking up into the sky as she laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles, the pop echoing loudly in the quiet night air.

"It's not easy," Ysayle warned her.

"Being Hydaelyn's chosen never is. She picked us both for a reason. At least you know what yours is," Valle said.

The Elezen reached out and brushed her fingers across the carbuncle sitting between them. Goosebumps raced up the Roegadyn's arms as though her skin was what had been touched, to Valle's great surprise, since there was no sensory feedback with her aetherical construct.

"There's a greatness in you, scholar. When you set your feet on the path you must walk and cannot be swayed from, you'll find it."

"I hope you're by my side, then. To show me what to do," Valle ventured.

Ysayle smiled down at the carbuncle as she splayed her fingers across its back. "If you believe in bringing a peaceful end to the war and not allowing the Ishgardians free reign to slaughter, then we walk the same path."

"Thank you for letting me ask questions."

"'Twas nothing. I'd rather answer you about the power than the young Sharlayan or the Azure Dragoon." Ysayle's lips quirked slightly.

"I'm glad I'm more pleasant than them," Valle said.

"You always will be. Now go to bed and end your watch. I'll take over," she said.

Valle meant to protest and stay up longer, but she yawned deeply. Offering a sheepish smile, she said, "Goodnight, Ysayle."

"Goodnight, Valle."

The Roegadyn desummoned her carbuncle and walked back to her sleeping bag, trying not to read over-much into how she had trembled at the sound of Ysayle's voice saying her name.

~*~

In her dreams that night, she stood again in the amphitheatre. The winter tempest raged, the snow pulled into a vortex by the warped currents of ice aether. But this time, rather than standing outside and being hurt by it, she was cradled by it, safe inside the eye as the blizzard lashed out at the foes.

[trashcankitty12]

omg thank you so much for answering! 😅 i have another ask about the origins of the ancestral witches, how did they come about? was darkar involved in their birth or even growing up? how did they end up working with/for darkar? and how did their childhood affect their mothering for valtor?

Okay, so in my head, and in my verses, the whole Darkar being the BIG, BIG BAD isn’t the case. It’s the Ancestral Witches themselves. Darkar is just someone who used to be a good person, but turned into... a servant of sorts. Which I’ll get to that soon enough. After my big spiel on the Ancestral Witches. XD (This is gonna get long, so there’s a read-more.)

Belladonna, Lysslis, and Tharma were three sisters born to a noble family on the realm (which is now dead) known as Ulmoira. Their family had been servants of the King and Queen there for eons, and their realm was in service to the Great Dark Dragon which birthed all dark realms (and dark magic), just as the Great Light Dragon birthed all light realms (and light magic).

Belladonna had ice magic, though not to the intensity we now know her to have. In fact, her magic was considered nothing more than a party trick at the time, meant for cooling drinks or crafting neat ice sculptures.

Tharma’s magic was always considered dangerous due to her outbursts. (Such an angry child...) But she could only conjure small scale storms. Nothing that spread over entire realms, not like she’s known for.

Lysslis’ magic was mostly just extreme empathy and telepathy and being able to create and manipulate emotions in others and forcing them to tell the truth. Nothing like the illusions and hallucinations she’s known for creating today.

Belladonna was the eldest sister, and the craftiest. She made her way quickly up the ranks in the Palace and became advisor to the King. The main advisor. His right hand. His partner. (And, yes, on occasion in exchange for getting her own items on the agenda, his lover.)

See, Belladonna could see just how powerful Ulmoira could be and wanted to expand it’s power and have one of the Great Dragons claim Ulmoira as a holy land, giving more reach for their kingdom than even the newly formed Council could handle.

And of course, endearing herself to the King and making herself so integral in his life and in his court gave her all the power that not even being a Queen could give her.

(She’s ambitious, so sue her.)

(And she’s great at playing the long game.)

Lysslis, the middle sister, was also quite a crafty woman, partially in thanks to her “unique gifts”. She understood people; their fears, hopes, what made them tick inside. An empath with a near excessive reach. 

Using her talents, and her way with words, Lysslis enjoyed playing spy for her sister. Always getting her intel on what others in the court were up to and what potential threats lied with other kingdoms.

(Lysslis is also the more curious sister. She’s the reason they end up going in the direction they go.)

Tharma is the youngest sister, and far more malicious and sadistic than her older sisters. She was labeled the “problem child” and the “family disgrace”. Always fighting, always starting trouble. Always where she shouldn’t be: in the way.

Belladonna and Lysslis couldn’t outcast their sister though, and found her a place to thrive: prison guard. 

Tharma loved her job and loved giving prisoners exactly what they deserved. 

It was an idyllic life. 

Until Lysslis, during one of her missions in which she got interesting information from one of the Great Dragon Priests... Information about the Dragon Fire, Primordial Magic created from the Dragon Fire (such as the Phoenix Flames and the Water Stars), and the predictions about people one day being able to harness such magic. He even had a Grimoire detailing the prophesy of the Dragons’ deaths and Them imparting Their magic to those deemed worthy, and how the other Primordial Magics would follow Their example. 

Lysslis, of course, confiscated the Grimoire and brought it to her sisters’ attention. 

This could be the big break they were all waiting for. Forget the original plan of their homeland becoming a holy ground, THEY COULD BECOME GODDESSES.

But how to prove themselves worthy to the Great Dragons and other Primordials? Simple: they make themselves stronger by any means necessary.

Their family had a Family Book of Shadows tucked away and hidden from the kingdom’s authorities, a tome mostly forgotten about due to the nature of the spells within. (Black Magic. A cursed and volatile version of Dark Magic, and, of course, forbidden to use.)

But Belladonna knew about it, had listened as a wide-eyed girl while her grandmother told stories of what their family used to be able to do. And now she had a reason to unlock her full potential. (And her sisters’ of course...)

In secret the three would practice and strengthen their magic using the spells from their forbidden tome, not realizing just how the magic was changing them. Oh yes, their magic was stronger and capable of things others could only dream of doing, but their physical and mental states? Their sanity? Their grip on reality?

Fleeting. And fleeting fast. To the point where they considered themselves gods without any Primordial magic, to the point where they didn’t need to be worthy of the Primordials, it was just a matter of taking what was already “theirs” to start with.

The King, disturbed by the increasingly erratic and terrifying behavior of his advisor and her sisters, confronted them.

Belladonna told him what they were planning, hoping he could see ‘reason’ and that they were the ones who ‘deserved to be in charge’. He called them out for their crazy behavior and with his army, he did his best to stop them.

Unfortunately, with their rage and combined magic, it wasn’t enough to stop them. 

Belladonna was now able to call forth blizzards with never before recorded temperatures. She could sense the blood within others and freeze them from the inside out. And she could create snow creatures to do her bidding.

Tharma’s storms could cover vast quantities of land and rage with the full force of the anger she’d kept inside all those years. Lightning strong enough to electrocute even the hardiest of people, tornadoes able to suck the air right out of another’s lungs. Hail storms that could destroy everything in their path. And the storm harpies she could summon to fight for her where just as terrifying as anything else she could do.

And Lysslis... She had soldiers killing themselves and their comrades, their minds completely overtaken by her own will. The hallucinations she made them see, the agony and fear she had overtake them... Nothing could save those in her grasp.

Ulmoira was ultimately destroyed.

But that was fine. They had no use for their homeland anymore. Not when they had an entire magical dimension to claim. Starting with the Dragon Fire.

Before they could take the Dragon Fire, they knew they’d need assistance. So they went to a realm known as Whisperia and stole three crystals from it. (These crystals were said to contain traces of the Water Stars within them, meaning they could damage or control the Great Dragons.)

Then they headed to Domino, wanting to face the Great Light Dragon. Unfortunately for them, she had already left her physical body, her magic and soul bonding with the future king of Domino that had just been born. (And they knew even with all their power, they couldn’t fight the realm of Domino. Not while still recovering from the destruction of Ulmoira.)

So they traveled to Obsidian, finding the aging and dying Great Dark Dragon. They thought him an easy target, using their magic and crystals to weaken him further, but he wasn’t worried. Angry, sure, but not worried.

Because the moment he died, the future queen of Obsidian took her first breath, and became his bond.

Deterred, but not defeated, the Ancestral Witches decided to seek out the other Primordials first. 

For ages they searched and scoured for Primordials, even stealing sacred items from realms in the hopes it would give them the power they sought. (And in their quest, they gained followers. Devout followers who worshipped the grounds they walked upon.)

And, curiously (and in great timing, considering their ages), they found a way to remain... Immortal. More or less. 

One part blood bond between their new “Coven” and “covenmates”, a bond where they would syphon their members’ life forces, a slow process they’d never notice happening. And one part a potion they discovered which needed unicorn blood, dragon scales, and the hearts of lumen. (Poor little things...)

Over the years, the Ancestral Witches tried to “steal back” the Dragon Fire from both Domino and Obsidian, only to have their forces blown back each time. (Though each time, without fail, new followers would fall to their knees for the Witches.)

And then, an idea struck.  Why take the Dragon Fire when they could raise it? King Gasper and Queen Gnala of Obsidian were due to have their child in a few months time. (Queen Natalia of Domino was still having issues becoming pregnant, poor dear.)

Carefully they monitored the situation in Obsidian, taking notice of the exhaustion among one of the most loyal servants to the Obsidian Throne since the Dragon bonded to the Ruler. Sir Argulus and his wife.

Interesting.

Lysslis saw the opening and she took it. It was slow, convincing Argulus and his wife to betray their King and Queen, but they did in exchange for the power they wished they had.

And two weeks after the young prince was born, a week before his christening, the Ancestral Witches struck with their forces, and the newly awoken Lord Darkar and Lady Mandragora. (And, a former prisoner of Obsidian’s dungeon who now had the power to absorb and redirect magic, Ogron.)

Obsidian fell. The kingdom tattered, but remade in the Ancestrals image. All correspondence and travel to the outside realms were destroyed. And the Ancestral Witches had their newest prized possession, and their future weapon, the former prince now known as Valtor.

(After Obsidian’s fall, the Council became concerned about dark magic and dark magic users. They felt that dark magic was so close to black magic, that it was only a matter of time before others turned treasonous too. Which started the crackdown on dark magic and the ostracization of dark realmers.)

(The Ancestral Witches viewed this as an opportunity and used it to manipulate dark magic users, and even some light magic ones, into joining their forces so as to “fight these injustices” and “retake their place” in the Magical Dimension.)

And that’s the story. Or well, a sort of glossed over, short version of the story.

Hope you enjoyed it. 

[frostsinth]

The Secret We Keep - Epilogue

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8  - MasterList -

So as a massive thank you to all my followers as I’ve hit another milestone, here’s an NSFW epilogue. Also soft and gooeyness, that gives you a little glimpse of what the pair are up to now.

As always, a huge thanks to everyone, and please check out my MasterList above if you haven’t already. While you’re there, feel free to BuyMeACoffee. Shoot me an ask/DM/comment if you have any questions or requests or thoughts. I love hearing from everyone!

Enjoy!

“Three silvers for the night,” I told the traveler, placing the now clean mug back on the shelf with the others, “And that includes a light breakfast in the morning.” 

He nodded tiredly, as it was already very late, reaching into the pouch at his belt and fishing out the coins. “Fair deal.”

 I smiled at him cheerily as I took them. “Let’s get you settled then. Gordy!” I called, turning to deposit the three silvers in the coffer behind the bar. The teenager looked up from where he was sweeping by the fireplace. “Could you be a dear and take this gentleman down to his room please?”

The boy nodded, leaning the broom against the wall and brushing his hands down his apron. There was a loud clatter and a soft woof, and the boy’s progression was suddenly impeded by a large grey body darting in front of him. Gordy nearly toppled over, barely managing to catch himself on the nearest bench. The last of the patrons gathered at the table in the far corner laughed loudly, and the poor boy’s ears turned pink. The traveler jerked in surprise, raising his hands defensively as the huge beast lopped over to him and began wuffing a big black nose at his pockets.

“Kosh!” I scolded, whipping the edge of my cleaning cloth lightly at the wolfhound’s snout. The big hound backed up a few feet with a sneeze and a shake.  “Apologies, sir. He may be big, but he’s just a pup. He’s still in training.”

And big he was! The large stormy grey dog was only a few months old but already came up to my waist. With long, lanky legs, huge paws, and a scraggily coat, he looked like a disproportionate grey lion more than a dog. For all his bulk though, he was a gentle soul; reminding me fondly of another such individual in my life. His scruffy tail wagged eagerly back and forth, long tongue lolling out as Gordy stalked over with a grumble. The wolfhound panted and whimpered as the teenager gestured for the traveler to follow him. Gordy shoved him amiably as he passed and the dog licked at his hand.

“Last room on the left.” I instructed him. I smiled kindly at the stranger. “Breakfast is set here in the bar room a few hours after dawn. Come up whenever you’re ready.”

The man nodded appreciatively, casting the big dog a final wary eye before following the equally lanky teenager down the stairs to the basement. Another loud roar of laughter and the slamming of fists on wood had me turning a critical eye back to the last table and setting my hands on my hips. The men there shoved at each other companionably, clanking their drinking horns together. Kosh gave another soft woof and padded back over to them.

“Finish up, gentleman!” I called over, slinging the cloth back over my shoulder. “We’re closing up for the evening.”

They gave an almost uniform groan of disappointment. The biggest of the group laughed again, clapping his meaty green hand on the shoulder of his closest companion.

“You’ll have to get back to your wives at some point, boys!” The orc exclaimed as the man sputtered into his drink under the weight of his huge hand. “Can’t hide here forever!”

That brought up another chorus of laughter, and a few more clinking cups. The orc tossed back the last of his own drink by way of example. The other men started to follow suit, nodding their agreement.

“Bar’tok, perhaps you’d like to take a break from drinking all my ale, and fetch me a fresh keg from the basement.” I scolded genially, raising an eyebrow at him.

He gave me his familiar sheepish grin, standing quickly. “Sure thing, Boss Lady!”

I tossed him the key as he sauntered past, then returned to closing up behind the bar. I gathered the last of the scraps into the bucket at the end of the bar, and replaced the now clean horns on the shelf with the rest. I moved out to gather the few remaining at the tables, and waved to the men as they dropped their coin and bid me goodnight. Alone for the moment, I paused briefly, taking stock of the place with a warm satisfaction spreading through my chest at the sight of the renovated tavern. 

In just the few short months since I bought it from oldman Hinson, we had expanded the bar room, clearing out all of the smaller first floor rooms and anything not completely necessary for the structure of the building. Leaving an open floorplan with high post and beam ceilings. I had put up the biggest of my collected antlers and horns as well as a few purchased patterned tapestries on the walls and had a large sheepskin spread before the fire where Kosh now stretched and yawned before collapsing with a thump onto his hairy belly. There was enough space for half a dozen tables, and the huge, remade fireplace made the whole place feel warm and inviting. We had also made the main door taller, and added a second to allow for my big and burly new patrons who visited the tavern frequently to have easy access. Behind the bar was a small kitchen, with a deep clay oven for bread as well as a stone open fire spit for cooking meat. Cast iron pots and pans hung neatly on the wall beside it, and fine wood shelves were near overflowing with various wines, liquors, and spirits as well as the plentiful number of drinking horns I possessed. The kegs lined the inside of the counter, ready and waiting, with a few large black iron lanterns set at the corners.

Below, we had remodeled the basement to host four small guest rooms as well as a storage room. Plenty of space to store a stockpile of ales and spirits to keep the patrons happy as well as serving as a cold ground storage larder for potatoes, onions, and other long term keeps. The staircase up to the loft apartment had been redone as well, and it looked quite grand with its short balcony at the top overlooking the barroom below. It was only accessible from behind the bar, in order to keep drunken patrons from wandering up unbidden.

The teenager trumped back up the less impressive basement steps now, stifling a yawn behind one freckled hand. I smirked, finished with my admiration of the renovations, and bringing my load of dishes back to the counter. 

“I’m all set for the evening, Gordy, why don’t you head home?” I told him, then dug out his pay for the week as well as some jerky from my secret stash. “If you wouldn’t mind taking the scraps out to the hogs on your way out.”

He nodded eagerly, taking the small handful of coins and jerky excitedly. He crammed the meat into his mouth and the coins into his pocket (and I was grateful he kept that order straight) and gathered up the bucket with a grunt. I smiled as he tossed his apron onto the barrel by the basement door and staggered towards the exit.

“Goodnight, ma’am!” He called through a mouthful of jerky over his shoulder as he slugged the door open. “See you bright and early to help with the goblin order!”

I waved him off, turning as Bar’tok came up the stairs as well, one huge keg balanced on his big green shoulder. I smiled at him, nodding to its place in the corner.

“Just there if you would, Bar’tok, thank you.” I gathered up the tray of dirty plates and horns to bring over to the bucket of water I kept by the back door to let them soak overnight. I would finish cleaning them in the morning while breakfast cooked, it was already very late.

The creak of the main door behind me and excited bark from Kosh had me slowing my clean up distractedly. Wondering if Gordy had forgotten something. But when I glanced over at Bar’tok who was facing the door, the wide, knowing grin he shot over my shoulder had my heart skipping a beat.

“I’ll finish up down here, Boss Lady,” He told me, taking the tray from my hands. “You have better things to do with your time.”

I spun eagerly, a smile already spreading across my face even before my eyes settled on the huge, burly orc currently shoving a leaping wolfhound down from trying to lick at his face. His face was set into a heavy scowl, his brow knotted. But as soon as our eyes met, his features instantly softened. I was already untying my apron and coming around the counter as he strode across the room. I gave a little yelp of delight as he swept me up without breaking his stride, sitting me on the bar and wrapping his big arms around me. There was a clatter and a clash as one of the lanterns toppled off the end, having been bumped by an errant elbow, and his big face flushed slightly. I ignored it, catching hold of his face with both hands.

“...Welcome home.” I breathed against his lips as he slowly pulled out of his customary crushing kiss. As if he were drowning in the sea and my mouth was his first taste of air. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, then cupped his bushy square jowls fondly.

Hans grunted deeply, his big nose flaring as he drew in deep breaths of my scent. His eyes turned doe-like, and his lips fell into that soft curl I loved. He placed another light kiss against my waiting mouth, then gave a distracted and irritated snort as he had to turn to push the whimpering, bouncing dog half clambering up his side. The pooch did not like being altogether forgotten as we were reunited once more for the first time in nearly a week. I laughed, reaching behind the bar to grab a well planned bone and tossing it off towards the center of the room. Kosh gave a final booming bark, then darted off, his claws scratching the worn wood as he pursued his treat.

I wrapped my arms around the big orc’s neck as he scooped me into his arms, pinning my hips flat against his waist, parallel to him with my legs dangling straight towards the floor. Bar’tok smirked as we passed him by, and I felt my ears grow hot, but Hans didn’t even spare him a glance. He carried me around the back of the bar, eyes never leaving my face as he made his way up the stairs to our apartment overhead. As if he couldn’t soak in the sight of me enough. I smiled, bending down and resting my forehead against his, breathing in his musky scent and feeling my heart race again at his touch. He shoved open the door with a pleased grunt, then kicked it closed behind him.

Spinning, he pinned me against the back of it, smothering me with kisses once more. I shifted, wrapping my legs as far around his huge torso as they would go, running my hands over his shoulders and neck. He growled deeply, the sound vibrating against my lips and my body, then pulled back only to bury his face in his favorite place against the side of my neck. Nipping and kissing and tasting my skin there. I gave a breathy moan, and felt another growl against my throat as his tusks ran over my tender flesh there. His thick tongue traced over the long since faded scratch, and he kissed the spot delicately where Wren’s knife had nicked me as he always did, before moving down to my collarbone. I rubbed at his muscles, sliding my little hands under his armor to trace over the tough skin of his back. He rumbled with pleasure at the sensation, pressing against me gently, pinning me against the back of the door and surrounding me with his bulk. I felt the familiar ache building within me, and squeezed my thighs around him. His nostrils flared as he pulled in the fresh scent of my arousal. Another deep, husky growl vibrated against my neck.

Curling around me again, he hoisted me off the door with both meaty hands on my ass and spun back to the room. Two of his long strides and he dropped me onto our huge bed against the back wall, where I bounced lightly. I could hardly stand to wait for him as he fumbled with his travelling cloak and armor. His ax made a loud thunk as he dropped it on our table, and I felt a flush rising to my cheek. Wondering if Bar’tok could hear us still. I was sure there was no masking the clatter of the chair falling over as Hans struggled to remove his armor as quickly as he could and knocked into it. But it was all quickly forgotten though as my attention settled on Hans’ face, his eyes hooded, his big tongue licking his lips. I bit my own lip, kicking off my new boots and stockings and sliding backwards onto the bed.

The big orc pulled his tunic up and over his head, and I hardily appreciated the sight of his flexing chest and stomach muscles beneath. I sucked in the view greedily, drawing in a sharp breath as he dropped quickly onto the bed and crawled after me. I hooked my hand around the back of his head, pulling him down into another deep kiss. He dragged my body closer to his, his growl becoming a soft groan as my other hand rubbed at the stiffness between his legs. He bent in half, bringing his hips closer to my reach while keeping our mouths locked together. I parted my lips, inviting him in, and his hot tongue eagerly slid after mine.

I felt his hand moving up my leg, pushing up my skirts. I could feel his need and eagerness bleeding into me. Desperate to be connected again in every way we possibly could. Cannily soaking up every minute of our coupling. He moved gently, but persistently, hitching up my dress around my hips and pushing my legs apart. Then he pushed my hand aside and scooped me up, bringing me to meet his own hips and grinding firmly between my legs. I quivered beneath him, and felt his hot lips and tusks scrape against my jaw as I tossed my head back against the bed. He rolled his hips again, then again, and panted against my throat, the roughness of his trousers coupled with the firmness of his erection sending us both into fits.

With the lightest of touches, I planted my palm against his chest and pushed him back. He moved obediently, retracting, frowning slightly until he realized I was following after. The big orc rolled onto his back with a grunt, and I bunched my skirts up at my hips as I straddled his. He looked at me, his dark eyes hungry, his tongue tracing over his thick lips. My legs barely reached the bed on either side of his huge body, but I was able to grind against his growing bulge over the top of his pants all the same, and now it was his turn for his head to fall back in enjoyment. I did it a few times more, teasing him until his big meaty hand clamped down on my hip and his foot kicked out, knocking into the chest at the foot of the bed as he gave a hearty groan.

I rose up onto the balls of my feet, crouching over him and grabbing at the edge of his pants. He helped me to slide his trousers off, freeing his huge cock with a relieved sigh. I tossed his pants off to the side, and winced at the clang of the candlestick toppling off the end table with it. He snorted, casting an eye over towards the mess, but quickly returning his husky gaze to my face. I blushed, shyly looking away from him, but settled just behind his member. After a moment’s hesitation, I began rubbing myself back and forth across its length. He groaned again, his hand on my hip squeezing lightly, his hips jerking involuntarily beneath me. I couldn’t help but grin now, delighted by how easily I had the huge orc at my mercy. His free hand came up, yanking at the collar of my dress, loosening the ties and pushing it off my shoulders. I heard a rip, but didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hans wrestled with the cloth until my breasts bounced free. The familiar pendant slapped against my sternum, its chain cool against my already flushed skin. He slid his palms slowly up my body, from my hips to my breasts, then cupped one in each hand. Massaging the malleable tissue and pinching lightly at my nipples.

That sent my patience over the edge, and I reached down as I balanced briefly back on the balls of my feet, guiding him into place. His grip on me tightened as I slowly slid myself onto his cock, and both of our mouths dropped open. He gave an untampered moan, thumbing my nipples a final time before sliding his hands to wrap about my waist. Easing me onto his massive girth.

He was still too large to me; every time he felt a little painful going in. Until my arousal offset his size, and all I could feel was the burning heat. I had come to enjoy that sensation of his cock stretching me. The pain it brought was just a teasing reminder of the pleasure to come. This time was no different, and as I sunk down to the base, my thighs quivered with delight. I stayed there a moment, felt him twitch beneath me expectantly, enjoying the heat of his body between my legs.

When I began to move up and down, his head lolled back again, and his hands on my waist tightened. His hips bucked up against mine as I came down, practically tossing me up into the air. I was quickly gasping, the pressure and pleasure building within me. I leaned forward, placing my palms on his broad chest to give myself a better rocking momentum. My core flexed and tightened, and I held my breath as my vision flashed white. Close. I was so close already. I was slowing, unable to keep the pace as my head began to swim and my mouth dropped back open.

With a hearty growl, he cupped my ass in his hands, and deftly rolled. I gasped loudly as my shoulders hit the bed, my hips hoisted up as he bent me over his knees. His meaty palms massaged my backside as he slowly rolled his hips against mine. I saw stars at the edge of my eyes, and my moan was embarrassingly loud. It only encouraged the hulking orc, and he picked up my previous momentum and then some. Our hips smacking together loudly, the bed rocking and creaking beneath us. He moved deeper, plunged harder, and my back arched in response. I couldn’t reach him with my hands, so balled my fists into the sheets as I felt myself edging closer again.

I cried out, felt the gushing release, and felt him growl again. Bending over me. Riding through my climax with his fast, deep thrusts. I reached up, catching the back of his neck and pulling him down to me as I lifted my shoulders off the bed to meet him. Forcing him to bend in half over my hips lifted to his to crush our mouths together. I bit his thick lip as I fell back.

“Don’t stop!” I breathed, my fingers clenching into his thick mane.

He rumbled again, and his thrusts returned to their previous pace. Sensitive and wetter than before, I nearly peaked again. But instead came to a comfortable, rolling edge of pleasure that I melted into as I felt him shudder and groan a few minutes later.

My eyes must have closed, because I didn’t know he had bent back down until his big lips pressed back against mine. I willingly opened my mouth, inviting in his huge tongue, rolling mine around it. His tusks scraped against my cheeks, and I could feel his long hair brushing against my face.

I shuddered with delight as he slowly pulled out, my heart racing in my breast. He broke our kiss to run his lips down my jaw, down my neck, kissing over my sternum and each collar bone, skirting the pendant. Licking up the damp sweat pooling there. I laughed weakly, feeling his progress with my hand still on the back of his head.

Finally he came back up, having made it nearly to my navel and covered almost every inch of my flushed skin with his big mouth. I opened my eyes, looking up at him with a languid smile. His slate blue gaze, the stormy skies at sea, watched me with a great soft warmth in their depths. I sighed happily as he kissed me again, letting his big hand scoop under my waist and pull me to lay on him as he rolled onto his back.

“I missed you.” I told him, propping myself up on my elbows over his chest to look down at him.

He sighed deeply, contentedly, running his big hands up and down my bare back. Pushing my ruined skirt off the rest of the way and tossing it to the side. I rolled down, resting my ear against his chest to hear his own racing heart beneath.

“Would that you never had to.” He murmured, his deep, rolling timbre sending shivers down my spine.

I kissed the skin of his breast, tasting the salty sweat there, then ran the tip of my tongue over the nipple. He chuffed lightly beneath my administrations, and I smiled.

“I always miss you,” I admitted quietly, tracing my fingertips over his firm muscles, laying a light kiss on each after my fingers passed over them, “Even when you just go to the other room.” I craned my neck back, stretching and sliding up to kiss at his thick neck. “I never want to be away from you.”

He gave a heavy snort, one of his happy ones, his big hand coming up to trace his large knuckles gently along my jaw. “I don’t deserve you.” He said, his words belittled by the fondness with which he spoke them.

I rested my elbows on his chest again, propping myself up to lean over his head and meet his gaze. I smiled shyly, and his thick brow softened, his lips curled into my favorite gentle shape. He kept the back of his hand against the edge of my face, his thumb coming out to wipe lightly against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes.

“You undervalue yourself.” I replied.

I felt his rumbling reply down the length of my body laid atop his torso. “I have done nothing good in my life. Nothing deserving of a reward like you… But by the Gods I am thankful for whatever fool made the mistake that brought you to me...” He brushed his hand open, resting his palm flat against the side of my face. “... I would give you everything in my power. Anything you want.”

I smiled, opening my eyes to meet his. “I want nothing.” I reminded him. “Just you. You’re all I need to be happy.”

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief as he always did. “I could give you more….”

“You have given me everything.” I assured him, turning and resting my head back into the crook of his neck. “I don’t think I could ever be happier.”

He sighed, the deep billowing breath causing me to rise and fall with his chest. I closed my eyes, listening to it gush through his lungs like bellows on a forge. He ran his hand through my hair, gently stroking it as our breathing and heart rates slowed. Shifting, he wrapped his arm around me, rolling onto his side and cocooning me with his huge body.

“You are my everything, Madara,” He whispered against the top of my head, “You are my air. My heart. My world.”

I smiled, nuzzling against him and tucking myself neatly into his chest. “Then you have already given me the world.”

...

The End (for now)

[ramblingkat]

Fic: Storm(Bleach)

UraIchi discord is a terrible place if you are trying to hide from plunnies. 

Look, a coffee shop and a writer AU, all in one. My shame is out for all to see. There is a lot more of this to come as well. 

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke, Unagiya Ikumi

***

Shutting his book, Ichigo rubbed his eyes and sat up, back popping.

Okay, enough of that. Time to take a bit of a break. College was fun at times, but it was also a lot of work. Which was why this job was such a good thing to have. 

Yeah, Ichigo worked a weird little night shift. It never seemed busy enough to justify staying open, but he wasn’t going to argue. It was pretty much the perfect time to work with his schedule of school and actually getting a chance to see his friends. Which was needed. Tatsuki and Ishida’s mockery was sometimes the only thing that got him out of his fog of English words and books. 

As he stretched a bit, Ichigo let his eyes roam the shop. There was only one person in the place, the scruffy blond man who came in regularly. He had been sitting in one of the corner tables, worn clothing still damp from the rain that had started to drizzle down not long before the man came in. 

His battered bag was on the ground next to him, strap looped around the arm of the chair he was in to secure it. On the table was the ugliest hat Ichigo had seen in a while, green and white, tattered on the edges. Next to it was a notebook, which Ichigo knew was full of some sort of scribbles. Ichigo was really curious about what they were about. He had a glimpse inside a few times while cleaning up. Sometimes there were notes, writing neat and in a language he didn’t recognize. Sometimes there were sketches, drawings and blueprints of things, neatly labeled.

When Ichigo had glanced up earlier, the man had been holding the cup of coffee he had bought, eyes shut, almost asleep. Though the noise of Ichigo setting his book down had brought the man’s head up, and he blinked at Ichigo. Then he gave Ichigo a smile and took a sip of the coffee. 

 Given the look of betrayal he gave the cup, Ichigo assumed that the coffee had gotten cold enough to be unpleasant. Since the guy had paid for the first cup with change scrambled out of his pocket, Ichigo assumed that he didn’t have enough for a second cup. 

But even across the room, he could see the shiver that ran through the man’s shoulder, and that tugged at Ichigo’s heart. As much as he liked to pretend that he didn’t have one. 

Since the guy was his only customer in hours, Ichigo knew what the man’s order was. So he remade it. 

When he set it down in front of the guy, Ichigo got to see the man’s eyes were grey for the first time. Usually, they were shaded by the guy’s hat and Ichigo couldn’t see them all that clearly. 

Though without the hat, blond hair was starting to fluff as it dried, and pale eyes were wide as the guy looked at Ichigo, Ichigo had a realization that the guy was hot. 

“On the house,” he said, and retreating rapidly. Was he blushing? Ichigo was sure he was blushing. That was horrifying. He just realized the homeless guy that hung around at the shop during the dark hours of the night was hot. Honestly, he wasn’t sure this could get worse. 

As if waiting for that phrase, there was a brilliant flash outside, and a rumble of thunder that was more sensation than sound. A second flash and sizzling pop followed and the power went out. 

Ichigo should have known better. He was an English Literature major. Why had he used the most cliche method of making things worse?

“I think the transformer exploded,” came a surprising voice, and Ichigo jolted as he realized that it was the customer. He scrambled from the man’s name. It was used from time to time when there was more than one customer at a time. 

Kisuke. A weird name, not one he had heard before. But it made it easier to recall than if he had some regular name. Still, the man was quiet, and other than some murmurs when he made his orders, Ichigo had never heard the guy talk much. 

There was a bit of a sigh from the other. “And no backup generator in here, it seems.” Kisuke tsked from the area his table was at. “I guess both of us are done with anything to do with reading or writing.”

Which annoyed Ichigo. He had a new book to read for fun, not one of his many books for class, and wanted to start that tonight. Yes, it was a trashy romance, but Ichigo didn’t care. It was a fun read, and there was a lot of interesting world building. And a great deal of smut, which was hilarious. Ichigo and Tatsuki had regular dramatic readings of the book for the entertainment of their YouTube followers. 

So the loss of power was really annoying. 

Pulling his phone, Ichigo texted the number they had been given to pass on the message of the power outage. Not that his boss could do much, but maybe she’d give Ichigo permission to shut down. Though it might take a bit to find out. 

“So, Ichigo-san, you seem to be reading a lot of books in English,” Kisuke said, apparently deciding that the silence was something to break. Ichigo had a moment of wondering how the man knew his name, but then remembered he had a nametag on. “College?”

Ichigo nodded, glancing to where Kisuke was sitting. His eyes were starting to adjust to the dim light from the city glow. Even if their section was offline, there was plenty of areas that were still lit up. Otherwise, he’d have the flashlight on his phone turned on. But he realized that it was still dim enough that Kisuke might not have seen the nod. “Yeah,” he said, feeling a bit awkward about having a such a normal conversation in the dark.

“English is an interesting language,” the blond said, switching to the language with an ease that spoke of practice. 

Ichigo could understand what he was saying and was pretty impressed. To have so little accent was something that was one of Ichigo’s goals for his own English speaking. No reason not to practice now, since he couldn’t do anything else at the moment. 

“Yes, though the way they structure their sentences is odd.” He took his time, making sure he had the words and the grammar correct. But he was pleased with how he sounded. 

There was a slash of brighter color from where Kisuke sat, the other obviously smiling in the faint light.

Another flash and rumbled, and even the dim light from outside faded as the sky opened up and rain poured down. Both men looked out, and then Ichigo yelped as his phone trilled. Fumbling it, aware he was blushing as Kisuke chuckled at him, Ichigo saw that it was Unagiya giving him a call back. 

Moving back to the counter, he answered it. “Hey,” he said, leaning against the counter as he watched the rain come down outside. It was soaking wet out there, and he was glad he had brought his umbrella today. Yuzu had called and insisted, and the thought of his sister made him smile, just a little. He’d have to say thank you when he talked to her later. 

“Lock up and go home,” his boss said. “The storm has half the city blacked out, so it’ll be while before it comes back on.” She sighed. “I’ll go through and clean up in the morning, toss the stuff that needed to stay cold. No need to try it in the dark.”

Ichigo glanced at Kisuke, then outside, frowning a bit. “All right. I can come in early tomorrow and help with any clean up if you need me to.” Because as much as they bickered, he liked his boss. Even if she was insane when her kid showed up. 

She snorted on the other side of the line. “Go home and sleep for once. I’ll see you are your regular time.”

Then she hung up, and Ichigo rolled his eyes. Blunt as always. Putting his phone way, Ichigo glanced where Kisuke had been sitting.

Only to yelp again as he realized the man was standing just outside of arms reach, hat in place and bag looped over his shoulder. 

Kisuke was close enough now that Ichigo would clearly see the shit eating grin on his face. “I assume you’ll be closing now,” the blond said cheerfully. “I hope you have a good night and a safe trip home, Ichigo-san.”

Huffing a bit at the man, Ichigo glanced outside again. “I will. Can I walk you anywhere? I have an umbrella….”

His voice trailed off, and he looked at Kisuke. The smile had faded, and he realized that Kisuke was studying him. Then the smile curled across Kisuke’s face again, softer and calmer as the man seemed happy at the offer. 

“Ah, I will fine.” Kisuke shifted so his bag was secure. “Though I appreciate your kindness.” He held up the coffee that Ichigo had just given him, and then moved, ignoring Ichigo’s startled protest as he managed to get to the door and then out, without even running into any of the chairs or tables. 

Ichigo grimaced. The guy was going to get soaked. 

He wondered if Kisuke even had dry stuff to change into.

Hopefully. 

Ichigo made a note to get him a free drink the next time he showed up. 

Because it was the right thing to do. Not because of the way Kisuke had smiled when holding the cup before leaving. 

Ichigo really needed to get better at lying to himself, honestly. With a sigh, he started to lock things up and head out. Something to consider later.

[eleanor-devil]

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.8 - Saving Someone Precious

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 - You’re here

He was getting worried by now. When Isis came to the hideout about an hour ago, he wasn't really pleased - first because Isis said Mitsuki had decided to leave Konoha for some reason, and second because... the child had practically called himself to his feet. He had considered not going at all - until Juugo said he could go in his stead. He was not having that. "How long until we arrive?" he asked. The snake had herself coiled around his neck. "Not far from here. His chakra is unstable though. I don't know why." Why would that be the case? His boy had excellent chakra control, thanks to how he was made and years of training. Something was wrong... Suddenly, Isis hissed in recognition. "Orochimaru-sama!"

The sannin saw what the snake's eyes already caught. A small, white rattlesnake, sliding on the ground towards them. "Koburo!" he exclaimed as he recognized his son's pet snake. The snake stopped in front of them and rose to its full height, hissing non-stop. The female snake immediately replied to him, and it was all it took Orochimaru to wait until they were finished. "This is not good..." said Isis finally. Thank you for stating the obvious, he almost said, but he had no patience. "What is it?" "Koburo says Mitsuki-sama was attacked by a group of ninjas... He tried to stop him, but when that didn't work, he rushed as quickly as he could to find us..." Orochimaru had only listened to half of what she said. "Lead the way, Isis!" And they were off again. He was trying to focus on just finding his son, but it was hard. Why was he attacked? How bad was the situation? And most importantly... Why did he leave the village at the dead of night in the first place? He reached the end of the river pretty quickly, that was where they were supposed to meet... He turned around himself, teeth gritted. "Where to?" "His chakra is getting weaker, he's in the woods away from the river... I'm sure-" Then there was a poof sound and the man felt the weight on his shoulders suddenly being completely lifted. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mind racing, his eyes widening. “What is that child doing…?” Isis disappearing could only mean one thing. Mitsuki was too weak to keep the connection. He simply refused to think of another possibility. He would not let some sort of low specimen take his masterpiece away from him. Anyone who even thought about hurting his boy... would pay dearly... The only problem was... now he had no leads on the child. Isis could sense his chakra... With her out of the picture, the most he could do was to follow the sounds of a fight... which was another problem, seeing that there was none. How was that even possible? There was a warm, healthy breeze in the spring night, and air dispersed sound... It was logically impossible that he would not hear a battle going on. Unless... The sannin gritted his teeth. He had never, ever let emotions control him before. He would not allow such a thing to happen now. Something on the forest floor near the river then caught his eyes and he stopped just for a minute to check. Blood...? Without the moon, there was not enough light, but he was positive that it was blood. He was becoming really, really unsettled now - how was he to find Mitsuki? He checked around to see if there were any leading trails... But after a few steps, they had stopped... Was the boy taken to somewhere else? His blood ran cold. He ran to the tree where he could last follow the trail... “The hell are you doing Suzume?! Finish him!” Finally getting what he had been waiting for, he jumped on the tree to get a bird's eye view. Before he did that, though, he noticed more blood stains on the branch he landed... "This vermin seriously grates on my nerves. Hiraku, I have a job for you.” With the words, he turned to face the direction they came from. He noticed a couple of things all at once, and his pulse quickened. There were two men apparently arguing, one heaped on the ground and the other... There was no mistaking the tousled white-blue hair. It was his son... His hair, his clothing... What did not belong to him here was, the sannin realized as he took in the scene... blood, lots and lots of blood from the wounds across his body, and pooling underneath him... For a moment, he could see nothing but a dark red haze in front of his eyes... Mitsuki was... badly injured...? And those scoundrels were just standing above him, while he lay broken on the ground...? They were not dead, not chopped to pieces, not begging for their wretched lives...? He felt something crunch as his hand balled into a fist and although it was hard, he peeled his eyes away from Mitsuki to take a look around, see if there was any other low life. He noticed a barely conscious man not too far away, and a movement drew his gaze to another with... only his head on the ground. That seemed like Mitsuki’s work... "I want the boy's head." Instinct - instinct for blood - took over and Orochimaru jumped from the tree he was standing on - leaving a big, hand-sized crush on its side. ... Goro approached the boy and stood there for a minute, looking at the boy with a soulless gaze. It wasn't his fault the boy attacked them. The damned brat had caused them to lose at least a third of their chakra - and they were supposed to go after the Hokage - now they had no chance at all. He was going to pay. He would make sure they wouldn't return empty-handed. Just when he raised the sword and swung it however... The unconscious boy was no longer there. He didn't even see anything. "What the hell...?" "You want his head?" came a booming voice from seemingly nowhere. Goro, and Hiraku behind him, looked around to pinpoint the source. "I shall give you one!" Then there was a mighty explosion, enough to shake the forest from its roots. ...and out of the explosion rolled a mahogany-haired head... Their comrade, Hideyoshi's lifeless eyes stared at them from the ground... ... Naruto had barely had enough time to activate his shield a nano-second before the explosion - thankfully covering everyone. As the sound of the blast died down, Boruto and Sarada's eyes widened. Their scream rang in the night as sounds of a fight could be heard from somewhere very close. "MITSUKI!!!" ... As the brunt of the blast started to fade away, Orochimaru straightened himself from the position he was in, leaning completely over his son to protect him from the explosion. He took one lingering look at him before gently lowering him to the ground, as if afraid to break him even more... which, if he had to be honest, he was. "You just hang in there for a minute, child," he whispered, though he did not know how Mitsuki could hear him. ... The two cloud ninjas had barely enough time to cover themselves - and recover from the shock of seeing Hideyoshi's disembodied head... Suddenly, a vicious shuriken attack came from behind the flames, and being caught unprepared, Hiraku felt the blades piercing his skin, although not enough to kill, and pinning him to the tree behind him. Goro took out a kunai and threw it blindly towards the flames, just in an attempt to slow down whoever was coming from in between, only a tall silhouette visible. Then he activated the lightning blade once again... Orochimaru stepped out from the flames, his eyes burning, his blood boiling with bloodlust. He took in the expression of the bastard who ordered for Mitsuki's head... How his furious and aggressive demeanor faltered and changed rapidly into one that of panic and desperation. Of course... every ninja in this wretched world knew about his reputation. "What's the matter… not so brave now?" the sannin hissed through his teeth as he bit his finger, allowing a drip of blood to ooze from the cut. "Not the same as going against a child… my child, is it?" The blond's eyes widened when he heard that. Out of all the people that could find them... They fought the son of one of the most feared creatures in the world...? 'Holy shit...' he thought as his hand with the blade started dropping to his side. Then he turned and tried to run. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!" Three large snakes erupted from the ground and immediately surrounded the man, hissing and snapping at him. "Where do you think you are going? We just began!" And with that, Orochimaru leapt forward. ... The signs of the battle were making themselves more and more clear as they approached a certain place in the forest. They had known they were close when they found Mitsuki's belongings and his traveling cloak all abandoned behind a tree. It didn’t take them too long to reach the scene, thankfully, but Konohamaru couldn’t shake off the sick feeling that they were late… he could only hope that they weren’t too late. “Keep your head cool, don’t engage, just find Mitsuki!” he called out to his team - and just in that moment, his eyes detected movement. Lightning fast, him and the Hokage sprang in action. Naruto jumped and blocked the path of the man who was trying to make a run for it, his teeth clenched. “Not so fast.” Konohamaru was a little disappointed that the man he had to find was already immobilized against a tree, oh, he could do with a fight… “Don’t try anything funny.” he pretty much growled. … There was a fight going on... They didn't know how many enemies there were... But none of that mattered to Boruto right then as he was frantically looking for his best friend. The snake that was still coiled on his arm had gone silent and… very still a couple of minutes ago, sending an ominous shiver down his spine… it was the only connection to his friend, and losing it could only mean that they needed to find him as soon as possible.   "Mitsuki!" he called desperately, turning around himself, eyes searching everywhere. Cold dread gripped his heart, and his breath came out hitched. Where was he?? "B... Boruto..." he heard Sarada choke out, her voice barely above a whisper, and he followed her gaze... His eyes widened as his heart almost came to a stop at the sight in front of them. A scene that was right out of a horror movie... His friend... Broken, blood covered and unmoving... right in front of them... ... The sannin watched with great satisfaction as his enemy scarpered away for him - tried to, at the very least. Orochimaru was toying with him, making him think that he could escape... but of course he was not going to allow him to escape. No, he was going to enjoy each and every moment of causing this poor excuse of a human being agony. Goro slashed at the snakes with his blade, but they were quick, easily dodging it. He was getting weaker... Keeping the blade on required a lot of chakra, and he had already lost quite a lot in the fight. Gritting his teeth, he threw the blade away and took a kunai out - he had to bail out of here, and for that he needed his strength. He- Suddenly, Orochimaru jumped right in front of him, out of nowhere, and before he knew, the blond took a strong kick to his chest, forcing him to fly backwards and landing hard on the ground, the kunai in his hand flying to the other side. Before he could even get up, he felt something crawling up his wrists, armpits, knees and feet... The snakes all hissed at him, baring their fangs, their tiny pupils seemingly reflecting hatred... He raised his head a little and met a pair of golden, serpent-like eyes, glaring at him with such a cold expression that he felt his blood freeze. The snakes tightened around his limbs, and a pain-filled moan escaped his mouth despite himself. "Does it hurt?" Orochimaru hissed, squinting. "Is it even remotely close to what you did to my son?" "We didn't attack the child!" Goro yelled. "We just defended ourselves!" The frown deepened more, and the snakes tightened more, too, so much so that he began feeling numb. "Consider this self-defense, you worthless scoundrel." Raising its head, the snake on his right armpit dug its fangs deep into his arm - so deep it almost reached the bone. The man let out a cry, his body jerking. "Holy... shit... Stop..." The sannin came to kneel beside the man, grabbing his head roughly and pushing it back, looking in his eyes with a hellish fury. "Try to have some dignity, scum! You are not dead... No, not yet, I guarantee you that it's not gonna be easy... But you are paralyzed. You will be unable to move, unable to scream." His eyes glinted maliciously. "Allow me to see how you will like it... Where would you want me to start?" ... “I surrender! Please…!” Whatever Konohamaru expected, it wasn’t this. “You… what??” “I surrender!” Hiraku repeated urgently, almost a frantic look in his eyes. “Please… do you know medical jutsu? You have to check on the boy, I’m not gonna try to escape!” The Sarutobi didn’t even have time to process this or let panic settle in because just then, he heard the screams of two of his students. … "MITSUKI!!!" Sarada and Boruto both yelled, finally snapping out of their shocked stupor. They both leapt forward, almost tripping on their own feet in their haste. There was no reply. Boruto felt his pulse quickening as he fell to his knees beside his friend, and he gasped at the full-on sight. The younger boy was lying in a pool of his own blood - a huge pool at that, and the wounds on his chest and stomach were still bleeding. "Oh god..." Sarada whispered in a shaky voice. She grabbed Mitsuki's hand, putting two fingers on his inner wrist. "I... I can't..." she mumbled, tears filling into her eyes. "B... Boruto, turn him over gently, I need to listen to his heart." "W... wha... He doesn't..." Boruto whispered weakly, gathering his friend gently in his arms. The way in which Mitsuki's head listed limply to one side scared the living out of him. As Sarada laid her head on Mitsuki's chest, he lightly slapped his friend's cheeks. "M... Mitsuki... H-hey... Can you hear me? Answer me..." His voice broke. "Please...?" But no reaction came from the boy, his eyes remained shut as the trail of blood running down his mouth and the horrific wounds gave Boruto a twist in the stomach... not even when Momoshiki and Kinshiki attacked the village had he seen this much blood at the same time... Trying to hold back whatever was trying to make its way up his throat, Boruto kept shaking his friend gently. "Come on... M-Mitsuki... say something..." Sarada was growing desperate... Why couldn't she hear anything...? Her hand grabbed Mitsuki's clothing as she felt a coldness spreading through her body. He... couldn't be... right...? A slow, dull thump reached her ears then, and her eyes went wide. "He's with us..." she whispered, straightening up and once again taking in the terrifying sight of her friend. "Why did this happen to him...?" she mused, unable to believe this was real, and her hand balled into a fist once again as she made a quick calculation in her head. Then she looked at Boruto. "Boruto, hold him as still as you can." she said firmly, and the blond only then realized that he was shaking - badly. As he tried to get a hold of himself, Sarada completed the hand seals she had learned from her mother, and held her hands over Mitsuki's body. "Kyuukyuu no jutsu," she whispered, and felt her chakra flowing, raising a dull green aura around the blue haired boy. It took a while and although it seemed like forever to Boruto and Sarada, the reaction they so wished happened. Mitsuki, still without opening his eyes, began coughing and gasping for air. "Thank God," Boruto mused, so relieved that tears almost fell to his cheeks, but he managed to get a hold of himself. This was not the time. "Mitsuki..." he called to his friend once again as he grabbed the younger boy's chin and turned his head to him gently. He very nearly sagged when he saw a flicker of gold. "B... Boruto..." Mitsuki whispered weakly, and the blond had to lean over a bit. The blue haired boy then turned his head a little. "Sarada..." The girl gave a shaky smile at that as tears brimmed her eyes. "You came..." Mitsuki mumbled, and Boruto saw a lone tear rolling down his cheek. "Of course we came, you baka, did you really think we’d let you go like this?" It was just then that Konohamaru reached the kids. He came to a halt, frozen on the spot as he took in the scene. It felt like all sound and air had been drained from where he stood as he watched with bated breath Boruto and Sarada… His mind had become sluggish all of a sudden for some reason. He was having trouble truly processing what was happening in front of him. Of course, he had told his two students to find their teammate… but… surely they haven’t found him yet, this broken figure couldn’t be him… His heart skipped a beat as finally, the two seemed to be able to reach Mitsuki. Konohamaru let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he rushed to the kids. The boy’s eyes turned slowly to him. “Konohamaru-sensei…” The jounin was on his knees the next second, assessing the situation closer… God… “Don’t talk, reserve your strength.” His voice came just a little tense and harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried beyond words and… if Mitsuki did what he thought he did… As always, though, even in this condition, the boy was attentive. “Sensei… I- don’t-” he couldn’t finish his words as a hiss of pain escaped his mouth. Sarada winced. “I- I’m sorry,” she stammered in a shaky voice, tears in her eyes. “I… I wish mama was here… This doesn’t work, I’m not good at all!” “It’s… alright… Sarada…” Mitsuki said weakly, and Sarada’s eyes widened, her hands shaking even more. “I… feel better… already…” “Sssh…” their sensei warned him, his look as well as his tone softening, he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more. Boruto couldn't take his eyes away from his friend. "You... you idiot... You just hang in there, do you hear me?" He felt his friend weakly squeezing his hand, and tightened his hold only slightly. "How... how stupid could you be? Why would you do this to us, you damn jerk?! I'll never forgive you for this! Leaving the village without even saying goodbye... How dare you even think you could leave the village, anyway? Huh? Who gave you the right to do that? We certainly didn't!" "Boruto," Konohamaru’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’ll be enough.” "No, y'know what, let's hear it from him!" the blond snapped, trying to hold back angry tears. It wasn't just out of the need to let it out that he was doing this, as much as he didn't want to show it, he was afraid. He was really, terribly afraid that if he didn't keep talking, he would lose his best friend. He glanced once more at him, and felt his pulse quickening when he saw Mitsuki's eyes almost closed. "No, no, no!" he cried out, holding his friend's head, trying to be gentle in his panic. "You're not fading out on us! Keep your eyes open! Keep your eyes open or I swear I'll kick your sorry ass to oblivion, do you understand?" His eyes burned as the tears threatened to fall, and he gulped hard to force them back. "Remember our promise!" he yelled, his voice breaking at the end. Mitsuki blinked once, trying to focus on him. He tried to lift his left hand, reaching for his friend, and Boruto held onto it as if for dear life. "I... remember..." Mitsuki whispered, squeezing his hand ever so lightly. "Good for you," the blond said as a lone tear escaped from his eyes.   ... Naruto was quick to take over the guy he was facing, he had managed to knock down the brunet. He had heard his son's and Sarada's screams earlier but in order to not lose focus, he hadn't looked in their direction. But now... He gasped at the horrible sight of Mitsuki badly injured, he could tell that the boy was literally fighting to stay awake... "Oh god... Mitsuki!" He made a run to get to them... ...and then Orochimaru leapt in front of him from out of nowhere, drenched in blood and with a very dangerous look on his face. "Do not..." the sannin began, and his heated voice was more like a hissing than anything. "...dare approach my son."        

[cinebration]

Choose Where (Victor Zsasz x Reader) [Part 11]

THE END. Thank you all so much for sticking around!

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

Tagged: @im-just-one-of-the-avengers, @strangeaddiction1306, @vaaalexandra​, @marvelenthusiast10​, @thefandomqueen2882​, @33rie33​, @cassiopeia-barrow​

Warnings: cutting, mutilation, blood

Image Source: directedbysnyder

The club was empty when you returned the following day. No note. You didn’t ask around to find out where Zsasz had gone. You merely threw yourself into the work.

As the only person left in charge of Roman’s operation, courtesy of the CFO paperwork you had filed months before, you took over.

The first thing you did was tear down the torture wallpaper with your bare hands.

For the next few months, you ripped out every piece of art in the place but for the big black hands and eyes framing the stage. You bought new furniture, replacing the tables and stools. The booths you reupholstered in maroon. You changed the lighting, keeping it warm but no longer seductive and red. You tore down the walls and replaced them with mahogany wood.

You went so far as to get rid of every single bottle of liquor in the place, ordering replacements for later.

Once in a while, when you were alone and everything was quiet, you swore you could feel fingertips ghosting over your scars, could hear Zsasz’s laughter down the halls. It took all of your effort and daily exhaustion to avoid thinking about him. All you knew was that Harley and the Birds of Prey were still alive.

The day before the grand reopening of the club, Dinah walked through the door.

You nearly leapt out of your skin. Smiling weakly, you waved her over to where you were sitting at the bar going over the bar food menu for the sixth time. “Drink?”

Dinah shook her head. “I’m not staying. I wanted to check it out.” She looked around the room. “It looks different.”

“That was the point.”

“Better, for sure.”

“I wanted to go for a speakeasy vibe. I even hired a jazz band,” you said. Eyeing her warily, you asked, “What’s new with you?”

You had never seen her so happy, so relaxed. She sat down on a stool beside you. “You’re some sort of money whiz, right?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Sort of.”

“I was hoping you could help me out. My friend can’t access her money. It got frozen in her accounts.”

“Ah.” You tapped the menu with your pen. “Your friend wouldn’t be Helena Bertinelli, would it?”

Dinah drew back. “How did you know that?”

“I’m a money whiz. The Bertinelli fortune is impossible not to hear about.”

“Can you do anything about it?”

You stared into her imploring eyes. “My relationship with Wayne Industries prevents me from helping out a vigilante group,” you said carefully. “I need them to protect me.”

“From what?”

“You don’t think other assholes want Roman’s empire?”

Dinah frowned. “We can protect you.”

“I need the Wayne Industries investments to keep this place open. But…I can tell you that you and your friends can get the money back if you find the banker who froze them.” You looked at her sideways. “I’m sure all he’ll need is a little persuasion. Of the ass-kicking variety.”

Dinah smiled. “We’re good at that.”

“I can get you the name. But that’s it.”

“Thank you.” Dinah glanced at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Get out of this place?”

You laughed. “I kick numbers and stock markets and investors, not ass.”

“Helena’s fortune is a lot of money to manage.”

“Thanks, but no.”

Sighing, Dinah stood and glanced around the room once more. “How can you stand it here?”

You spun in the stool, surveying the wood-paneled space. “I remade it on my terms.”

“Why did you keep the name? And those,” she said, gesturing to the sculpture on the stage.

“I figured it was the perfect ‘fuck you’ to Sionis.”

Dinah laughed, her voice swelling to fill the space. She left, the laughter trailing after her.

The next night, the grand reopening went spectacularly. The speakeasy vibe drew a different crowd. The jazz band filled the air with soothing rhythms. No man threw a tantrum and made women dance against their wills atop tables.

At 2am, closing time, you sat up in the office by yourself, hyper aware of your solitude. As though moving through water, you closed up the bar and returned to your shitty apartment, feeling hollow and hating every second of it.

Scar greeted you at the door. Sweeping him up in your arms, you threw yourself onto the couch and cradled him, hoping his purring would soothe you.

Two quiet knocks sounded on your door. With a sigh, you dragged yourself off the couch.

“Mrs. Robinson,” you called, opening the door, “I don’t have—”

You couldn’t breathe.

Zsasz looked the same as he had the last time you had seen him. Nearly. The rage and hurt were gone, his dark eyes cautious. You stepped aside, expecting him to storm through the door as was his way.

He walked past you slowly, hesitant. When the door shut, he turned and said, “You changed the club.”

You felt yourself deflate. Of course. It always came back to Roman. “Look—”

“It looks better.”

You blinked. “Thanks…” Determined to hurt yourself, you added, “Sionis would’ve hated it.”

“Not if you convinced him it was his idea.”

You wanted to laugh, but the sound died in your throat.

Scar nosed at Zsasz’s shoes, trying to place his scent. Zsasz crouched down to run a hand over his fur. “Hey, little guy. He’s so big now.”

“Yeah.”

You wanted to ask him where the hell he’d been, but you kept your mouth shut. He’d leave soon enough, you told yourself.

“Why are you still living here?” Unlike the previous times he’d asked, the question wasn’t vehement or judgmental. If anything, his voice sounded…sad.

“Look,” you said, fighting the pain growing inside you, “just say or do whatever you came here for.”

Zsasz straightened slowly. Adam’s apple bobbing, he opened his mouth to speak, hesitated. He rubbed the back of his neck, patted his hair as he struggled to find the words. Your heart strained in your chest, stomach twisting as the silence stretched.

“I had to bury Roman,” he finally said. “He was…”

“You loved him,” you said quietly. “And he loved you, in his own selfish, twisted way.”

He nodded. “One day, I will get my revenge,” he said, the words coming out slowly. He met your eyes. “But not today.”

It was a start. “I can accept that.”

Relief washed over his features before another expression overshadowed it, his gaze intense. “Good.”

He seized your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

It was as though a dam within you burst. All the hurt and the worry and the frustration he caused you flooded forward, pouring itself through your lips. You wanted to hurt him and hold him and save him and be the reason for his destruction.

“I know,” he murmured against your lips, breaking away for a second. “I know.”

Backing you up against the door, he kissed you with ravenous desperation, a starved man aching to consume you. You couldn’t think past the heat of him, the taste of his mouth, the strength of his tongue. He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, his body melding to yours.

You gasped for air, lips bruised from the intensity of the kiss. He dragged his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, lathed his tongue over the scar there. Your head tipped back against the door.

“You’re getting a new apartment,” he grunted. “No argument.”

“Fine,” you answered before reclaiming his lips. Growling, he pivoted away from the door, seeking the bedroom. A few strides and you both were on the bed, his body firmly seated between your legs. Your hands skated over his belt and tugged his shirt free of his pants, searching for skin. God, did he burn.

Tugging upward, you broke the kiss to let him yank the shirt off. Your hands slid to his belt.

“Wait.”

“Don’t tell me to wait,” you hissed. “I’ve been waiting.”

Staring into your eyes, he withdrew the knife from his pocket. For a moment, you felt a tinge of panic spike through you, but it passed as quickly as it had arrived.

“Choose where,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“On me,” he said. “So I don’t forget.”

Stunned, you let your gaze drop to his chest. Your hand traced the map of scars there, feeling each ridge. Just over his heart was a wide open space of unblemished skin. You tapped your finger there.

He rolled, taking you with him. Straddled on his hips, you looked down at his reverent expression. Taking the knife, you pressed the blade against the spot you had chosen, ghosting it over his flesh. He shivered, breath hitching in his throat. His hips bucked up against yours out of reflex.

“An X,” he said, breathless.

“Why?”

“One for each of yours.”

Heart stuttering, you set the knife against his skin, cutting deep. He tensed beneath you, grunting. His hands tightened on your hips as you made the second slash across the first. He sat up, blood running down his chest, and kissed your collarbone scar and your forehead one before staring into your face, a hand cradling your cheek.

“I know who you are now,” he said.

It took you a moment to realize he was referring to the first time you had met. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, nose brushing yours.

“Well, tell me,” you said.

“My new god,” he breathed against your lips.

You shoved him back onto the mattress. “Don’t you forget it.”

He grinned.