#will show them terrifying visions if they provoke him though.

[darkvoid-sun]

Vanta: "I am not dancing around the word death when I say 'you'll fall asleep and never wake up.' I mean it quite literally. A nightmare which will never grant you the release of giving way to the reality of the waking world."

[ @askleaderscrest ]

[catchingdaydreams]

Sleep paralysis demon Miguel - Part 2

Part 1

(not proof read)

It was little over a week until any forms of sleep paralysis was forced upon you. During then you had time to think of the whole ordeal. That 'grumpy shadow', you unofficially named him for now , didn't appear the following nights either. This led to your conclusion that he only showed up with one of your episodes. You weren't looking forward to them even more now. After the last encounter you have no clue how he would react to you. You did upset him for not acknowledging his menacing gaze. But it's not your fault that just continuously staring is awkward. Its human nature.

Besides the point you needed to come up with a plan. You have no clue what that shadow man is or what caused yourself to be haunted by him. If this was becoming a frequent thing then there needs to be a way you can communicate to him. Maybe you can fix whatever bad blood between us. Maybe you could tell him to leave?

You just hope you won't provoke him....

...But that wouldn't be half enjoyable.

As the nighttime was looming over, you hopped into bed. It took you a while for your body to feel at ease but eventually you were falling to what appeared to be your slumber. But coldness of the room etched within the sheets sending in goes bumps. You tried to bury yourself further within the covers but your body was completely frozen. You signed irritatedly about your discomfort with the temperature. While tossing and turning before, much of your left leg and chest was exposed to the cold air. Every passing minute seemed to feel colder and colder. This wasn't normal, the coldness increased to the point that you could see your breath. Something supernatural was a play and you had a good guess who.

But he didn't show himself, not right away though. Miguel had bigger plans this time. It wasn't just hunger anymore. He was determined to make you fear him.

The coldness that etched into your room spewed an icy mist that made you sight hazy and dulled the rest of your senses. You tried not to panic. You really did. However, subconsciously fear had stricken you as the room grew darker and darker. The only sense that remained was your hearing. But that wasnt reliable as all you could hear was your heartbeat thumped louder and louder in your head. The only warmth that lingered was your body sweating bullets as a million thoughts were running through your mind.

Why was this time so different? Is it even the same entity doing this? Oh god, what if whatever this thing is trying to hurt you?

The last thought terrified you. Especially how exposed you felt when half your body wasn't under the sheets. Your paranoia sparked nasty ideas of something grabbing your feet and dragging you down. You thought that this terror might break your stillness, trying to move your body once more, though proved fruitfulness. You huffed at this mental strain over a flight response. Your sense we're being tested. Played like a fiddle while you were so helpless.

During your internal dilemma, you didn't notice the tapping above you. Walls groaning and creaking until it grew into a banging, vibrating the walls so violently that it shook the picture frames above.

Your mind was cleared from thought when the banging boomed above your head. You rolled your eyes up to witness who was doing it but from the angle you couldn't see anything.

What you did see was a flicker in the corner of your eye. On for a second flashed red. You blinked, focusing your vision in front of you.

There he was. Hunched over you on the bed. Almost as if he was pinning you down. What you didn't notice was that you didn't feel any weight of his body pressed onto you. You didn't know he was simply a shadow. But it's not like you knew nor cared at the moment. You were too preoccupied with how this fucken man was above you, given you looks that would kill.

You didn't know how you could be even more frozen in fear. His face was just an arms length of yours. His red glowing gaze still obscured his shadowed face, yet with being in closer proximity you could make out a scow. He took notice of moving away from his gaze to the rest of his face. He smirks, flashing his bright white fangs at you.

Miguel has been having dinner and a show with you. This time he made sure your fear persisted during his feeding. His little tricks seemed to do the work. And he certainly got a kick out of you not being a little arrogant bitch this time around when you saw him again.

Even now as he grins wildly your fear keeps growing. He thinks that you're scared of his teeth, which came up with an idea.

He leans closer to you, his mouth opens wide as he growls deeply. He aims at your throat. While he couldn't actually touch you, you didn't know that he wasn't gonna rip your voice box out. He could see your pupils dilate as a small scream emits from your closed lips. Its was almost too comical to Miguel, he grins, trying to keep in character and not laugh at you.

He might as well be drunk on your fear right now from how much you were emitting. His breath glazed over your clammy skin as he could hear how fast your heart was bumping.

Moving closer, he paused

He Noticed something above you. Miguel found your little letter that was taped on the wall above you. Glancing over it, he saw it was a message to him.

Hey shadow man, can you please stop being a creep leave me alone. I'm not into being watched by a prevy rando.

Okey thanks

It pissed him off.

Arrogant little bitch, he thought Who the hell thing they are? You were going to-

*Slap*

"Creep!!!" You cried

"Ow-fuck!!!" Miguel curses with a snarl, fangs blaring in offence. He rubs his face to ease the sting.

'She...slapped me?' He couldn't believe it.

'I slapped him' You couldn't believe it.

You both stared at each other, completely dumbfounded. It took you a few seconds to release that 'oh hey you can move now' and 'get the fuck out of here instincts' kicked in.

And get the fuck out of here you did.

With one swift motion you kicked him in the gut, causing him to fall back in surprise. Finally with him off you, this was your chance. You rummaged the sheets off and ran straight out of the room.

All the while Miguel was left on the bed to collect himself.

What the hell was going on?

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober Day 1:

"But now this room is spinning while I'm trying just to fill in all the gaps."

Safety net | Swooning | "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Fandom: The Three Caballeros/ Ducktales

Prompt used: A little bit of them all, but mostly “how many fingers am I holding up?”

This year I feel they are gonna be shorter, but hopefully good still, and with open ends or down right happy ends cause I’m me. I apologize in advance, however, the translator only has Portuguese, not Brazilian. :/ Anywho, Starting off with some light angst, so as always poor Donald will be hurt, though mostly mental this time. Enjoy!

…

Breathing. He's been doing it all his life, but as his throat closes up, as his lungs squeeze, as his knees wobble and his stomach swoops at the floor that wavers in his vision, he finds no air entering the organs that desperately wish for it.

He'd thought himself past stuff like this, panicking when he should be retaliating. But here he stands- used loosely as he fears his legs will give out any moment- frozen and useless as chaos reigns around him. How? How had his backup plan, his escape from his usual life of 'adventure' (danger), led him here, to more of it?

But it's not just him. If it was only him, he wouldn't be this terrified, no, his retreat had been to the arms of two dear friends. The ones who were honest, and loyal, and wanderers of curiosity and fun. They were not rooted and busy with their own lives, they weren't annoyed with him 8 times out of 10, they called him out, they boosted him up, they had his back, they were… are, his everything.

And yet here he stands. Having brought his bad luck upon them, and he could do nothing-

No.

He locks his knees, the painful twinge hitching his breath, the small breath enough to clear a path in his mind. He reminds himself that this is not one of his past adventures, this is not an 'at Donalds expense' situation, no one here will leave him behind or freeze him- the two birds fighting below- dancing, hopping, showing off, not fighting, not like them- would have his back, whether he had theres or not. And he would not let them down, he couldn't, he…

He loved them.

Red tinges his vision- Panchito is thrown aside and rolls several feet- one foot slides back, he leans forward- José takes a punch to the beak, lands harshly on the ground where a massive foot holds him down- Donald blinks, finds himself no longer on the hill overlooking the fight, but facing off with the large being- who shifts from gelatinous to solid in rippling waves, fending off against attacks of all kinds- now several paces away from José's prone form, and Donalds chest is heaving, that air that escaped him before coming in too fast now, the dizziness haunting him still.

His body moves of its own volition, a heat that spreads through numb limbs and coils tightly in his gut, acting like a spring. The only thought in his head is to protect the two birds behind him who welcomed him with open wings when he showed up out of nowhere, the two who’ve had his back since he’d met them, his vision is finally taken over by the encroaching red.

He’s had episodes like this since before he can remember, moments of high emotion-usually his temper- that take over his body and mind and leave him reeling in the aftermath, young mind unable to find all the missing pieces that would fill the gaps in his memory. Even now, as an adult, though they come less often- he’s so tired, too tired- these episodes will leave him confused, lost, and wondering who he hurt this time. Sometimes the things he’d done would come back, in flashes or dreams- nightmares- and other times he’s left with a guilt or hole that eats at him endlessly.

He’d confided in the caballeros one night, after that fight where they’d purposely provoked him into losing it. Donald was not one to share his feelings- when one is often put down or belittled, why share your weaknesses, he had to be tougher than the toughies after all- so it had taken him a while, a roundabout way, to truly get it out. That his episodes scared him, had him waking in cold sweats, left him with dizzy spells, made him wonder if he really was too much of a hazard to be around anyone. But he’d assured the two he understood why they did it, that they had needed to escape, he understood that he had few uses and it was fine really, he’d just be off afterwards so don’t worry if he wanders off, he’s only fallen off a cliff a couple times so he’ll be fine!-

But they had been horrified, the apologies still came to this day, but that night, had been one of the first nights in a long long time, where Donald had felt safe.

His world tips as the red haze begins to fade, his body strung tight and heart beating faster than it should and head splitting with how hard it pounds, he loses his sense of gravity, but instead of meeting the hard ground, finds himself caught by two sets of arms. They lower him carefully, keep him propped up against warm chests and encompassed in that safe feeling. Everything spins in his field of view, not helping the panic in his mind as he flips through flashes of half there memories that leave him with a gruesome picture. A face floats around and around and around-

“Donaldo! Por favor mi querido amigo, look at me, how many fingers am I holding up?” (Please my dearest friend)

Donald finds this question a little stupid, always had, he could see several hands after all, but he knew that three were around him so he had to be holding up one hand. So the answer was-

“S’venteen…”

“Está tudo bem, amor, agora temos você.” (It’s all right love, we’ve got you now)

[citowon]

spring troupe and gender neutral s/o watch horror movies

about time i finally write for this blog... i was hit with the image of masumi watching a horror movie with his s/o, thought how lovely it would be if there was content of that, then realized i have that power now

word count: 1,935

tags: established relationship, non-detailed mentions of horror themes (gore, monsters, etc)

sakuya sakuma

🌸 when the topic of a horror movie date first comes up, he’s a bit scared. he’s only seen a couple, one of which was for mankai play research.

🌸 when it’s actually showing, though, he’s pretty calm! the anticipation was the worst part, and he somehow doesn’t get scared even during the most terrifying movie of the year. he’s great at reminding himself it’s just fictional in the end

🌸 vampires? not scary. aliens? he thinks they’re cute! gore? well, yeah, it’s unnerving at first but it’s all fake, and once he reminds himself of that he’s fine

🌸 he gets scared at the littlest things though. there might be a continuity error where a knife is in its holder on the counter in one shot and then removed the next, and no one in the movie acknowledges it nor is it supposed to mean anything but he can and will psych himself out thinking about just what moved it

🌸 king of predicting plot twists! he might be very good at spotting continuity errors, but he’s even better at picking out little bits of foreshadowing and putting together the mystery

🌸 gets spooked the most by jumpscares. every time he squeaks a bit (on really bad ones he might scream) and every time he always does the same embarrassed sigh afterwards and goes to squeeze your hand to calm himself

🌸 psychological horror is definitely the best pick for sakuya. he thinks a lot about what’ll happen next in the movie and loves to discuss about movies with you regardless of the genre, so with thought-provoking psychological films it fits him like a glove

🌸 and hey, if things ever get too intense he loves b-list horror movies! he thinks the bad acting is endearing and always finds something to compliment even with the trashiest, corniest flick

🌸 if you ever get uncomfortable, he might commentate in the movie and try to poke fun at it- i mean, the killer clown is kind of funny! look how bright and colorful it is compared to the rest of the set! he keeps his voice light and sunny so you have something comforting to concentrate on

masumi usui

🎧 he loves the idea of horror night. cuddling with you, holding you protectively as the suspense rises, stealing kisses to distract you from the monster and erase your fear...

🎧 he’s only seen a few horror movies in his life, less than the fingers he has on one hand, but whatever. it’s a movie. it’s not real. if he got too immersed he could just tell himself it’s fake and be done with it.

🎧 spoiler alert: he didn’t.

🎧 masumi did not, and i repeat, did NOT expect to get so invested??? even if you’re scared, he’s definitely the most terrified

🎧 that’s not to say he’ll show it. he’s doing everything to keep a neutral face, and you’ll probably assume he’s holding to you tighter during the scary parts like he’s protecting you.

🎧 (it’s actually because you’re the one [1] thing grounding him. you’re protecting him, not the other way around! in hindsight, he likes being cared for even when he thought he’d be the one spoiling you, not the other way around. he just wishes it didn’t have to be during such a scary movie, that’s all)

🎧 will take his fear to the grave... unless you ask him directly about it. please hold him and tell him the monsters aren’t real, even though he’s a heavy sleeper he will stay up until 3 am, his mind reminding him how creepy the movie was every time he’s about to drift off

🎧 so does not fuck with ghosts, if he didn’t believe in them before he certainly does now. the poor guy looks up how to ward away spirits and ends up carrying around a salt packet on him for the next two weeks

tsuzuru minagi

📖 tsuzuru’s not exactly a horror fan. he claims it’s brainless and pointless

📖 (admittedly he’s a little scared of them, but he still thinks they’re dependent on shock alone, and have zero rewatch value since the writing is more focused on in-the-moment spooks than actual plot.)

📖 he’ll roll his eyes and tease you a little but eventually he’ll go along with watching a horror movie

📖 to psych himself out of his fear tsuzuru decides to watch them critically and note what plot points to do (or more likely not to do) for future plays

📖 this works out for the beginning but by the middle of the movie he’s enraptured. he can’t tell if it’s actually good or if it’s a car wreck he can’t help but watch

📖 does the corny move where he yawns and wraps an arm around you, and you’d almost buy it from his earlier cynicism but then the killer shows their face and he tenses up like hell and you just know

📖 gets embarrassed every time he’s scared- he even turns pink, and gets even redder if you try to hold his hand or cuddle him closer (even though there’s nothing he’d want more after something that creepy)

📖 by the end he’s got a few new ideas that might go to autumn or winter troupe’s latest plays, and admits okay, fine, maybe horror isn’t so pointless after all

itaru chigasaki

🎮 screw movies, you’re playing horror games instead!

🎮 most of itaru’s horror games are single-player, so one of you takes the controller while the other sits next to the player, but itaru’ll drape his arms around you from behind in a back hug the entire time you play

🎮 he doesn’t really shut up. the entire time, he’s either cracking a joke or trying to freak you out more, if only so he doesn’t get in his head and overthink the creepy atmosphere

🎮 asshole only quiets down when the game gets tense, and then suddenly puts his hands around your shoulders or neck to scare you. regardless if you fall for it or not, he always laughs at himself and just-so-happens to break the tension as a scary cutscene plays

🎮 still commentates when he’s the player, but gasps or jumps even at small atmospheric scares

🎮 itaru definitely overthinks the game. he gets super cautious over tiny details and makes the missions way harder than they should be since he keeps overestimating the enemy line of sight and how noisy the avatar is

🎮 if you happen to be playing a co-op horror it’s a constant “no u” battle over who should do the scariest tasks

🎮 “reader, we need to cleanse the room next. you should do it” “no, you should do it. you have the quartz item remember” “i can give it to you since you have the ghost ward” “the ghost ward doesn’t apply to this quest, besides, you’re better at this ghost attack quick time event than me” “no it does, and you’re more optimized” “i can just give the items to you-“ “no you should do it” “no you” “no you” “no you” “no y-”

🎮 you both lose

citron

🍋 citron loves horror movies! he thinks they’re... comforting?

🍋 turns out he’s only seen movies about cursed dolls and b-horror, which explains a lot- he loves dolls too much to be scared by them and he thinks b-list horror is hilarious- but he’ll still proudly proclaim he’s unflappable and swear to protect you from the bad guys

🍋 when you’re actually watching the movie you can’t tell if he’s faking his reactions or not. he’s very noisy

🍋 he gets scared enough during the gruesome and horrific scenes to hold you close and tight like a teddy bear, and during the worst of it he might muffle a scream by diving into the crook of your neck, obscuring his vision until the scene changes

🍋 and yet, he laughs at the next scene’s unrealism, and manages to poke enough fun at the movie that you giggle and his terror disappears, he loves your laugh way more than he can be afraid of monsters

🍋 can’t do gore for the life of him, but when it comes to the actual plot, he’s rather critical of characters acting dumb. he catches on to nonsensical writing quick, but usually asks you to clarify the plot holes before realizing that he found a loophole in the writing

🍋 whenever you’re scared and not even his goofy reactions and commentary can help, he plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, strokes your hair, and holds you close to his chest until the fear goes away. he’s surprisingly good at protecting you from the movie

🍋 after the movie he’ll say his country has a similar legend to the movie monsters, but he claims the legends are true in zafra, and zafrans have a very specific tradition to prevent the monsters from attacking them

🍋 the movie also gave citron the idea of creepily standing behind you silently until you turn around and get startled, or occasionally chanting in a strange, cultish language and pretending he didn’t say a thing, or making a doll with the same markings as the clown puppet from the movie...

🍋 citron continues to be even scarier than the actual horror movie, but can’t wait until the next horror night! maybe watching it was a bad idea after all...

chikage utsuki

🌙 chikage just doesn’t get the appeal of horror. it’s just a fake movie, why do people get so creeped out by terrible sfx and unrealistic monsters?

🌙 he’s seen scarier things than any werewolf pack, zombie outbreak, or witch coven can throw at him. if you insist on watching a scary movie, fine, he’ll be happy to let you sit on his lap, just don’t expect to creep him out as well, or else you’ll be sorely disappointed.

🌙 he analyzes the movie more than he watches it, but doesn’t speak up even though the fight scenes look pitiful. if this were real life, he’d sweep the whole brood of shambling monstrosities in record time and be back home in time for izumi’s curry

🌙 chikage runs his hands under your shirt whenever the monster’s on screen to scare you. it’s actually really creepy- his fingers are light and quick and always makes you flinch, even if you know it’s just your boyfriend

🌙 he’ll listen to your thoughts about the movie, but doesn’t have strong opinions himself. he thinks the scares are mediocre at best, even without considering his background, but won’t mention how unrealistic it was unless you mention it first.

🌙 psychological horror, however, is a whole different story

🌙 maybe chikage can’t get scared by generic spirit halloween monsters but once you introduce thought-provoking plot, questions and dilemmas, now he’s hooked

🌙 he really likes wondering if the protagonist is actually the good guy and making theories about the origins of the monsters and why they’re so destructive, even if he forgets about them once the movie’s over.

🌙 love love looooves the “the monsters were harmless creatures before humans dished out the first blow” trope. he knows how common it is, but there’s a lot of ways to go about it, especially on a subtextual level, and he just can’t get enough

🌙 the deeper the plot is, expect a longer conversation about the ins and outs of it. they get surprisingly thoughtful and introspective, even if chikage throws in a few bullshit stories related to the movie just to watch you squirm

[maibi]

Join The League

Dabi x Reader

Summary: guilt you had been building up inside of you was all a waste of your time and Dabi tried to comfort you

A/N: I have no clue why, but I have a feeling this is a little bith different than what I usually do,, tho I hope you enjoy it!!!

——————————————————————————-

“Join the league”, Dabi said as he held a dagger against your throat while laying on top of you.

“Never”, you spat with a smirk.

Dabi was always trying to convince you to join the league, but you always refused. He had acknowledged your power and found out that he wanted you and only you to join his team. He did his very best, going measures he didn’t even expect himself to go just so you could say yes to him. You always declined his offer, so naturally he didn’t ask it that much anymore. Though not in a nice way anymore. He’d challenge you and he said if he’d win you’d join, but you never agreed to those terms. He just started a fight and you always won, though a part of you was almost convinced he made you win on purpose.

Besides, you were already part of a group. It wasn’t a really known one, but it gave you the feeling of not being lonely and that was something you needed. Being completely alone was dreadful for you. 

“Then you are a sworn enemy and I'll have to slice your throat now”, he said playfully.

“I’d love to see you try”, you whispered as you inched your face closer to his, your throat brushing against the metal blade.

You shot your head back the second he tried to slice you with it, creating an opening to attack him back. You pushed his shoulder hard with your free hand, making him lose balance. You gave him another push in his chest and he fell on his back, allowing you to escape his embrace. 

With quick motions you took a blade, hidden around your hip, and pushed your way on top of him. When he tried to lift his equipped hand you pushed it back down with your foot, not caring about any imprints or bruises it would leave behind. with a swift movement you placed the blade against his throat. 

You inched your face closer to his, breathing heavily. “You’re putting up quite the show. Entertain me the same way next time, will you?”

You slashed the blade in the ground next to his face and stood up. But before you could escape his embrace he pulled you flush against him. “Why not entertain you now?”, he whispered, placing his hands gently around your neck to pull you closer.

You had grown quite accustomed to this kind of behavior that you didn’t even show any form of reaction to it anymore. It would be you glaring at him because he’d always, in some way, make everything sound so sexual.

“Come on, don’t ruin the mood”, he said as he smirked, halting his movements.

“I will cut that smirk off of your face”, you said while trying your best you wriggle yourself out of his arms. 

“Hmm, I’m quite interested in that”, he said while bringing his grip to your waist, making you jolt slightly. 

“Go get your dick wet somewhere else”, you said as you were finally able to release yourself from his grip. His flirty behavior has been something that didn’t go unnoticed. He’d be like this all the time, but even if you didn’t like to admit it, you secretly enjoyed his flirt and teasing habits. 

“You make me crazy”, he said behind you with a laugh.

“I know I do”, you confidently said, not turning back to look at him.

“Join the league”, he randomly added again.

“Perhaps in your dreams”, you said before really leaving him there and turning around the corner to have yet another exploring day in the city to clear your head. 

It was every time you saw Dabi that he was provoking you in some way. No matter the occasion he would be all up in your business when in reality you had nothing to do with him. He was part of the league and you were part of your own little group. But he was certain. He was certain that the two of you would be an unimaginable strong team. He strived for power, is what you thought. But you had all the power you needed, so he was just a luxury you didn’t want to afford. He would be the start of a mistake you didn’t want to make.

You actually wished you could join his team, but working in a duo wasn’t really something you looked up to anymore. You had made that mistake once, so it wouldn’t happen again. And declining his offer, in your opinion, was the safest option.

You would walk down the street as if it was yours. Walking as if you didn’t have a care in the world, when in reality everything and everyone reminded you of a certain someone. A certain someone you didn’t ever want to be reminded of. But everything reminded you of your mistake in the past. Everything made you remember every piece of guilt you have inside your body. Everything and everyone, except Dabi.

It wasn’t as if you cared less when you were with Dabi, no, he just made you forget all of the mistakes you made and all of the things that made you feel any sort of guilt. And maybe that was just the reason you enjoyed being around him. Because in the end you did it all to just make you forget everything.

You walked inside your hide out, hours after you walked around the city and hours after your encounter with Dabi. The last thing you were expecting was to actually see him, yet there he was right in front of you. He was bent over a still laying body, his left hand around this person’s throat and fire spreading all over his right arm, ready to plunge an attack on the immobile person. 

It wasn’t shocking to see Dabi doing this kind of stuff. It was the villain life, just like you had experienced till now. Stuff like this was bound to happen and wasn’t really ever stopped.

You tried to make out whoever it was trapped under Dabi, but the pillar standing right in front of their face was making that quite impossible. Out of caution that it wasn’t one of your team mates you called for Dabi. 

“Dabi?”, you said questionable as you walked closer. “What in the world are you doing?”

His head shot in your direction and you immediately regretted asking him. His eyes screamed murder and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of him. You knew what he was capable of and pissing him off was always last on your list. His eyes bore inside of you as if it was you that had done something wrong and unconsciously you took a light step back.

questions were flooding in your brain, but no answers were given to them. What exactly was the reason behind Dabi acting this way? What caused him to look as if he was about to ring hellfire upon whoever was laying under him. 

“I need you to leave right now”, Dabi said in a calm, yet serious and stern tone. 

“But-”

“Now”, he repeated with with an even more serious look, making your insides turn. But you didn’t give in.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that right now”, you said as you walked closer to Dabi and the anonymous person. “I need you to calm down for a second.”

The motionless stranger saw this as an opportunity and with all he got, he pushed Dabi off of him. You saw reds and yellows cover your vision  and you didn’t need to think twice, or double check to know exactly who that person was. Your stomach twisted, your heart dropped and you swear that if you weren’t able to hold yourself back you would be passed out. But the only thing that came out of you was a deep inhale, almost a gasp, as your hands flew over your mouth.

“K- Keigo?”

The person you had sworn was dead. The person who’s death was supposedly your fault. The death that had eaten you alive, drowning you in guilt. The person you had once loved had died, but was right in front of your eyes now. No injuries and very much alive.

Your legs gave up on you and your hand flew to wall, trying to maintain yourself upright. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest, you could feel the throbbing pain in your head. Your head felt fuzzy and with every blink you were trying to reduce the triggering feeling in your eyes. “This can’t be true”, you whispered over and over until your arm was thrown over ones shoulder.

When you looked up you saw Dabi helping you. “I told you to leave”, he said concerned. His voice was low and his murderous eyes disappeared, leaving him with only an anxious expression.

You looked up again only to be met with the one and only Keigo Takami, also known as dead pro-hero ‘Hawks’. His eyes screamed guilt, but not even that could make you think of a reason for him to do this. For him to play such a dirty joke.

You slowly pushed Dabi away from you and walked closer to Hawks. Dabi reached for your arm to stop you, not wanting you to take a step closer to him. But you brushed it off. You knew what you were doing, but at the same time you didn’t.

You halted your movements when you reached him and you searched his face. 

He didn’t hesitate when he came closer and he also didn’t hesitate when he pulled you in his embrace. You just stood there, hands to your side and face lifted upwards as you tried your best to not let out any tears. “You were supposed to be dead”, You said as your voice cracked. 

“But I’m not”, he said while he pulled you closer, closing off any space that was left between you. That until Dabi placed his hand between the two of you and pushed Hawks’s chest. “That’s enough buddy”, he said as he looked through hooded eyes. “Don’t cross the line.”

“Let’s go, this isn’t good for you”, Dabi said as he turned you around and made you walk to the door.

“I still love you.”

You halted again. A shiver went down your whole body and negativity triggered your brain. “You still love me.”

It came out more as a statement than a question, because if he truly really did love you, then why did he leave? You turned around, face and eyes red. “If that is to be true, then why did you leave?” You walked in his direction again. “Why did you make me go through all the hardship alone?” You whispered while tears were running down your face. “I had no one. I had no one but you. But you left and I blamed myself for that. I ate myself alive with guilt because I had thought it was all because of me. I thought you had died because of me. And you still have the audacity to come here and tell me you still love me after ditching me”, you said the last in a whisper as you were barely a few inches from his face.

You hit him weakly in the chest. “You left me all alone”, you said as you hit his chest once more. Your head dropped, tears were flooding down your face and you softly hit his chest repeatedly. When you hit him one last time, he rested his hand over yours. “I know I did, and I am so sorry. But I had no choice.”

Your head shot up. “No choice?” you said with a crack in your voice. 

“You were a villain and when we got exposed I had to fake my death for our own goods. Only the higher ups knew about me not being dead”, he said as he tried to hold your hand. His hands were shaking, but you were sure it was because he was scared. Scared of whatever reaction you were about to give.

You pulled your hand away from his grip. “So what? Were the authorities suddenly much more important? Much more important than the lives you have taken? I can’t forgive you, no, not when you are putting the blame on me. I lived my life like this and you accepted that. How can you expect me to accept the things I resent?”

“But if you had changed we could have figured this out toge-”

Blue flames covered your vision and a sudden heat made you lean back. Your back pushed against Dabi’s body and his free hand wiggled his way around your waist. His grip was firm so you allowed your weight to fall on his as your legs were giving up on you. 

The flames had died down and Hawks was nowhere to be seen. The building had enough broken windows to let any bird escape, even the bigger ones.

You tried to stand upright, but it was particularly hard to do so. But Dabi’s grip didn’t loosen on you, so you once again allowed yourself to rest against him. 

His other hand creeped around your waist and he held you like he never held you before. His hand touched your bare arm, and it was still warm from usage of his flames. It calmed you down. His head rested in the crook of your neck and he slowly pulled both of you to the ground, giving up all the support he gave while standing and letting you calm down on the ground.

He inhaled deeply and you could feel his breath on your neck and his heartbeat against your back. His touch felt intoxicating and you drowned yourself in his warmth.

Every memory of Hawks ran through your mind and your hand slowly went to your collar. You felt the necklace. It had a dove pendant and Hawks had given it to you. And he had said “Hope the wings will remind you of me every time you see them”. And you hated how it really did remind you of him every time. You played with it for a while until Dabi spoke up. 

“Did he get you that?”, he asked as his hand made its way to the necklace holding both your hand and the pendant in his hand.

You slowly nodded your head.

You felt his grip loosen on you and he slowly made his way up to your neck. He fiddled with the chain and suddenly the necklace fell to the ground. You watched as the dirt and dust on the ground had already covered it lightly. 

“I’ll get you a prettier one”, he said.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Will you make sure it has a tiny flame on it?”, you said as you rested your head against his shoulder and moved your gaze upwards, meeting his eyes. 

“However you want it designed”, he said in a whisper. His hand creeped up to your cheek and he pulled you in.

His lips met yours and you automatically closed your eyes. His touch felt rough yet soft. As if he had been craving this for too long, but still didn’t want to ruin it. 

When he pulled away he searched your face. A smile made its way on your face and you let out a laugh. “Exactly how long have you been waiting to do that?”, you said weakly.

He didn’t answer and a smug smile creeped on his his. “No clue what you’re what you’re talking about.”

But he did, he knew exactly what you were talking about. But his words alone wouldn’t be able to express the way he felt for you so his actions were his only approach to successfully show his feelings. He wasn’t good with wording his emotions, but words weren’t really something you needed to understand each other. 

“Join the league”, he said silently asked. 

You inched closer to his face, stopping right before your lips could meet. “In your dreams”, you whispered at him. 

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

- PART TWO

Summary: After waking up, you realise the realities of the world you've been pulled into. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: stabbing, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: make sure to read part one, otherwise this won't make any sense xD there's still a bit of build up going on, but starting with part three we'll be getting some action

You woke up from a restless sleep, crumbs of mascara stuck to your face. God, you needed a shower and a toilet immediately. The club was dead empty from the view upstairs, only a few people cleaning the tables and moping the floor. You stretched your arms and walked to the door, surprised it wasn't locked.

"Ah, miss Y/L/N, good morning! I hope you had a pleasant sleep." Someone startled you and you cleared your voice.

"Hi, who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies, I am Onyankopon." The man smiled and handed you a paper bag. You peekee inside and saw something which resembled clothes and toiletries. You recognised the stag pin in his chest, another of Zeke's employees. "I assume you'd like to clean yourself up. Please follow me."

"I'd love that, thank you." You smiled and followed Onyankopon downstairs. He told you bits and pieces of the Jaeger family overthrowing the police and gaining control of Paradis City, how the Marleyans wanted control over the city's resources and docks, all kinds of information you weren't entirely sure you were supposed to know. He walked you to the backstage, where all the strippersdancers got ready, encouraging you to use whatever you needed for you'd be the star of the club. That didn't help you in any way, instead it was anxiety-inducing, and your toes curled at his affirmation. You quickly took off last night's makeup, brushed your teeth, washed your face and body in a sink and got dressed. The clothes were simple, a long, light blue shirt — clearly a man's — and a pair of leggings. You wondered whom they belonged to, perhaps that grim-looking lady, Yelena. She terrified you with her look that could kill. Your hands hovered over the vanity in the dressing room but decided not to waste any more time and folded your old clothes, placing them in the paper bag.

"I'm ready." You walked out of the room and met with Onyankopon. He smiled and guided you out through the back door. "Hey, Onyankopon, who's Mikasa?"

"Oh, miss Mikasa is our best assassin. She's loyal only to Eren, though, which is an impediment for Zeke... I probably shouldn't have said that." He opened the door of a superb black car and you climbed inside with a sigh. You heard how the mafia was based on trust, and no one trusted you.

Most of the ride was silent, your eyes wandering out the window until Onyankopon parked in front of a huge and heavily guarded mansion. You knew the Jaegers were rich, but this was beyond obscene. You opened the door and Onyankopon scolded you for doing that, but you assured him you were perfectly capable of doing things by yourself. He walked you through the beautiful front garden of the mansion, through the large hallway and into what you assumed to be a living room. Or an office? Whatever that was, it was as big as the dining room of the orphanage.

"Ah, the little bird has arrived! You look splendid in my shirt." Zeke welcomed you and you felt your cheeks warm up at his words. The heat disappeared just as quickly when your eyes met with Yelena's. "Come, sit. I suppose you're hungry."

You nodded, feeling saliva building up in your mouth at the sight of croissants, bagels and all kinds of foods you've never had before. Historia was rich, but even her money wasn't enough to feed so many mouths. Doors swung open and you saw Eren barge in, followed by a few people close behind. He plopped on a couch opposite you, the same inexpensive look on his face.

"Let's get over with this. I've got shit to do."

"Impatient as always." Zeke rolled his eyes. "Y/N, do you swear to obey and serve the Jaeger family?" The question caught you off guard, but you nodded.

"I do."

"There, done." The older Jaeger brother shrugged and Eren clicked his tongue.

"You almost didn't let Mikasa walk out of this room alive because she swore loyalty to me and this is all you do to her? You're getting soft, brother."

The air in the room grew thick, almost impossible to breathe it in. All eyes were on you, and you didn't know if what you felt was shame or fear, or both.

"Very well." Zeke walked behind you and took your left hand, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Hold that there, will you, love?" He smiled and you slightly relaxed. Until — a sharp pain, followed by electricity and heat shot from your hand, through your arm. A blood-curling scream erupted from your throat, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you squirmed and thrashed at burning sensation, your hanned pinned to the table with a knife. Blood seeped from the wound and you panicked, no one in that room rushing to your aid. No one blinked, no one felt sorry. "Swear your loyalty to me. To the Jaeger family."

"I swear! Oh, God, I s-swear! Please!" You begged, feeling your temperature falling from your cheeks. Zeke twisted the knife and you fell from the couch, knees hitting the wooden floor.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, unphased by your whimpers, sobs and yelling, as he let go of the knife that still pierced your flesh.

"T-to you! Make it stop, p-please!"

"Good enough for me. Any objections?" Zeke eyed his little brother.

"Just stitch her hand. She's annoying." Eren clicked his tongue and poured himself a cup of coffee. When Onyankopon pulled the knife out, blood gushed out of the fresh wound and you felt the room spin and your head heavy, vision blurry — you fainted.

A hard slap across your cheek woke you up and you met with Yelena, eyes drifting to your bandaged hand. It was damn painful to move it, and you used your other hand to support your weight, shifting your position on the couch.

"Finally." Eren got up and and handed you a file. You flipped through it and found pictures and information of the men from the club.

"Y/N, this is Armin, our bookkeeper. He'll be paying you after every successful show. And this is Mikasa, she'll train you in self-defence. I suspect you won't need it, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Zeke pushed the glasses with his index finger.

"You stabbed me." You bluntly stated, eyes glued to the bandages.

"It'll heal."

"It'll heal? I'm already in debt, you didn't need to stab me!" You got up and instantly felt a gun to your head. Great.

"Sit." Yelena's voice was brash and commanding. Your brain told you to listen to her, but your instincts told you to provoke her, to taunt her. Teeth gritting, you took a deep breath and lowered yourself down, deciding to do both.

"You're not gonna shoot me without Mr. Jaeger's permission, so don't point your gun at me." A satisfied smirk creeped on your lips — you didn't technically provoke her, just stated the obvious.

"Can I shoot her?"

"No." Zeke enjoyed the show, and unbeknownst to you, he, too, felt somewhat proud of your little snarky remark. "You still have to prove your loyalty. Talk to the band, choose some songs for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. You're free to settle your training hours with Mikasa, and to go wherever you want, but you are not allowed to step foot anywhere outside the centre of Paradis. Last thing I need is some Marleyan kidnapping you and torturing you for information. Or the cops. Dismissed."

"Mr. Jaeger, if I may?" You waited for his nod of approval. "Since I won't be living at the orphanage anymore, where exactly am I going to stay?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Blouse, Springer, come here." Zeke waved his hand. More people, more names.

It slowly dawned to you that the Jaegers had a thorough structure with extremely loyal people, and you'd have to quickly find your place there and earn their trust, lest you died a painful death. A bubbly brown-eyed woman and a cheerful-looking man approached Zeke's desk, and finally you saw someone less serious. Onyankopon was nice and all, but he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. These two seemed... fun.

"These are Sasha Blouse and Connie Springer, leaders of the drug cartel. You'll stay with them until you're capable of living by yourself."

The duo smiled at you and you felt genuine warmth from them, making you wonder just how bad the mafia was. They seemed to like working for the Jaeger brothers, but you couldn't judge that just yet.

"Oh, we've already moved your stuff to their place, so there is no need for you to visit Historia. Now go, we've got work to do." Zeke placed a cigarette between his lips before turning his back at you.

You were right, Sasha and Connie were fun people. They talked a lot, and you warmed up to them with a few jokes and puns. Connie handed you a phone containing a few contacts, neither of which were Zeke or Eren— apparently you weren't allowed to speak to them, they would speak to you. Sasha explained how you had to forget your past, and dedicate yourself solely to the family — no relationships, no friends, no acquaintances. You were not permitted to fall in love, which was understandable, considering the circumstances, but hard, considering the inability to control feelings.

"Don't worry about it too much. Zeke and Eren care about their subordinates, as long as you listen." Connie wrapped an arm around your neck. Besides, you're one of the lucky ones. Boss never spares witnesses, so he clearly saw potential in you." Somehow, that didn't make you feel any better, you only felt more weight on your shoulders.

"Yeah, I heard you can sing!" Sasha beamed, clapping her hands. "I can't wait for your first show, I bet it'll be awesome."

"It has to be, otherwise you'll have to come to my funeral." You shook your head, exiting Jaeger Manor. A honk caught your attention and you saw Mikasa impatiently waiting for you in a car. "Any advice before I go?"

"Don't get attached to any of us." Connie sighed.

"But trust that the family will protect you if you're loyal." The woman encouraged you before hugging you. A hug, something you never thought you'd get from a mobster.

[kinsurou]

38 and Dabi? Maybe Hawks as well? If possible?

38. “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you…?”

+Threesome (Spitroasting)

This was supposed to be short! ;-;

(Another thing, this is separate from the Forgive me lord serie, but Hawk's role is a bit similar to what I have planned out!)

Dabi stood behind you while he took a hold of your hips, his long, black claws that could easily slit your throat open without much of an effort, made their way down your sides, getting tangled into the fabric of your tank top and with a lazy tug, they slowly began tearing it with a terrifying accuracy that could easily be compared to that of a dagger.

You couldn’t stop squirming in place, shivering from the contrast in temperatures between his body and the mild coldness seeping through the room.

“Dabi, please stop ruining my clothes! That was my favorite shirt!” Your complaints were ignored, rapidly turning into soft gasps as one of the demon’s hands cupped your chest the moment the black top fell off your body. Those same hands began fondling the mounds in your chest that was covered in fine, intricate layers of lace.

All in the midst of being under Keigo’s firm stare, who hadn’t left his spot on your couch. He was tense, flustered as he took in the way your body kept squirming animatedly under the fiend’s touch.

“What in the world are you doing?!” He couldn’t help asking, his voice was hoarse, raspier than usual from the dry feeling at the back of his throat. His nails dug their way into his thighs as a sorry attempt to keep himself grounded. There was something in the air that made him feel dizzy, clouding his mind with nothing but burning desire.

“I’ll make you a deal, bird brain…” Dabi looked at Keigo in the eye, showing the other male just how much he adored your body. In fact, he also began palming your sex over the fabric of your shorts. “If you can make her cum...If you can make her feel better than I’ve ever done, then I’ll release her from my hold and I’ll just take my leave.” 

“W-wait!” You protested, gripping Dabi’s forearm that encircled your body so casually, almost like he wasn’t pleasing you before one of your closest friends and coworker, who was yet to make a move. Through your half-closed eyes, the sight from a growing erection straining against his pants was remarkably evident, if that wasn't good enough of a hint, then watching his breath become heavier definitely had to be “Y-You said...ngggh! That I couldn’t be please b-by anyonebutyou!” 

Dabi pinched your nipple softly, then began rubbing the hard nub in a circular motion. The malicious grin on his face kept growing as his hands kept sending sparks of arousal through your shaking body. 

If there was something he adored more than wine, it was making his human vessel squirm underneath him. 

“I can help you with that.” He hummed, pleased when he inhaled the sweet smell of your dampness slowly beginning to coat his hand. His next action was leaving a kiss on the mark over your neck, followed by a soft bite over the skin that left behind a burning sensation over the spot of burgundy.

As soon as the burn faded, something inside you felt completely different. Like a weight being lifted off from your soul...Was that Dabi’s hold over you? The sinister hold that prevented any other human, or demon from taking what belonged to him?

“There, now he might actually have a chance.” Arrogance dripped from his voice like venom itself, followed by that same, suffocating feeling overflowing the air, clouding your thoughts with voracious lust, from the looks of it, Keigo was also being affected by this familiar feeling, he was breathing harshly and his cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat rolled down the sides of his face. “What are you waiting for, hunter?”

Dabi released you from his delicious torture, just to follow by grabbing the sides of the piece of denim around your hips so he could pull the material upwards. A yelp came out through parted, drooling lips when the fabric pressed tightly against your wet slit.

All your attention was completely focused on bucking in place, painfully excited by the things Dabi was doing to you, it was nothing compared to his usual treatment and yet, you were already feeling desperate to be fucked silly.

You had completely forgotten about the other male in the room, who stood up from his seat and advanced towards the both of you with a sluggish pace, each and every single one of his thoughts had been taken over by desire and even though his main goal was to release you from the demon’s clutches, at that moment a different goal had taken over his priorities.

“S-Stop it, Dabi!” Your hands clung to the much bigger ones at your sides in a pathetic attempt to stop Dabi’s relentless teasing, the more you both kept this one-sided struggle for dominance, the more those shorts buried themselves in place between your damp folds. Small gasps escaped through your lips each time Dabi made you jolt in place. 

“What? Is this too much for you, little one?” The only response he got was the feeling your nails digging themselves into his forearm, which only served to make him hiss, pleased that something as simple as this was enough to make you shake and piss you off this much at the same time. 

He watched your body leaning forward, struggling to keep the remainings of your sanity before he could actually make you cum.

A pair of well-polished shoes came into vision, it was enough to get your attention away from the man standing behind you, much to his annoyance. When you looked back up with a flushed face and desire-filled eyes, you came face to face with Keigo, the emotions flowing in his golden eyes were no different from yours.

He took your cheek into his hand in such a tender manner, it was a complete contrast from everything he was feeling at that moment. Without thinking twice, he pulled your face into one of the sloppiest kisses you’ve ever shared. 

“There we go,” Dabi smirked to himself, enjoying the arranged symphony between your needy moans and the hunter’s sharp grunts, whose hands came up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you forwards so he could deepen the kiss. 

“Not so determined now, are you, hunter? What happened to that righteous fury of yours? Oh, right. It’s all gone! All in favor of having the opportunity to sleep with the woman you’ve wanted for so long.” He laughed darkly.

“Can’t say I blame you. She’s such a unique one even among your kind.”

Dabi’s words dragged you out from the stupor provoked by that fog coursing through the air, it made you gather enough willpower to let go of him to place your hands over Keigo’s chest, before pushing him away slightly to gasp for air. 

“What?” You gasped, focusing your attention on anything else but the heated gaze coming from those golden eyes before you. 

The open windows that allowed the rain outside to be heard loud and clear inside the apartment. 

The succulent at the top of the coffee table with its leaves at the bottom sightly wilted from the many times Dabi had overwatered it and last but not least, the music playing on the speaker that sat at the kitchen counter. 

“Dabi, stop! Keigo and I are just friends, nothing more.” You gave the blond a hesitant look “...Right, Keigo?” 

But he didn’t answer your question, instead, he just gave you a look filled with all of these untold feelings, before once again capturing your mouth in a desperate kiss. 

“Sorry dove...But he’s right.” He pulled away just to say those words before he began devouring your swollen lips for the third time that day.

As much as he was enjoying the show, Dabi wasn’t the kind of guy to just stand there and watch, this was supposed to be a competition, after all. So he began kissing the side of your neck. His warm breath and the way he kept sinking his fangs into your sensitive skin only made your pleading whimpers become louder with each bite left behind. Not even a turtleneck could help you save a single speck of your dignity after this.

“Turn around, little one. Let your so-called friend have a taste of your sweet body.” Dabi whispered in your ear, pulling you by the waist and slowly turning you to face him instead, and as quickly as your back faced Keigo, he pulled you even closer to his warm body and began rutting against your rear. 

“Sorry Dove,” Keigo groaned into the back of your neck, the silky ends of his hair tickling your nape every time he made the slightest of movements “but I can’t hide how I feel any longer…” he continued moving against your trembling body. 

Dabi kept watching with a glint in his eye before he too, began kissing your abused lips. He touched your chest with both hands, slowly unclipping your bra by the front, as much as he liked how the black lingerie complimented your body, he actually preferred the bare appearance.

Speaking of bare…

The rustling of clothes caught your attention, after your head became clear for a few minutes, you finally realized the sounds came from your shorts that were being pulled down. Keigo was desperate to satiate this burning feeling inside his chest that kept growing like it was ordering him to hurry up. 

However, he was completely caught off guard when he hooked his fingers inside the sides of your clothes, and only came to contact with a single layer of fabric, the realization made him stop moving, and when you pulled away from a growling Dabi to look at the blond standing frozen in place with his eyes wide in surprise, along with a deep shade of crimson adorning his whole face.

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you…?” He gestured with his head at your lower regions, sweating bullets at the realization you hadn’t been wearing any panties all this time. 

As disorientated as you were from everything these two were doing, that fiery attitude that caught the interest of both males when the two of them met you for the first time was still in there. 

“No, I’m not. You want to know why?” You scoffed, turning back to face Dabi with a small glare on your face, that he didn’t seem to care about. As a matter of fact, he just kept staring at the both of you with a nonchalant grin “Because this cheap copy of Satan over here kept tearing my underwear to pieces every time he wanted to have sex, and now I don’t have a single pair of panties left!”

“Not that you complained whenever it happened.” He had the nerve to reply, but after growing tired of waiting for Keigo to make a move, Dabi decided to take matters into his own hands...literally. Those same hands, that had been busy playing with your chest, grabbed the sides of the last article of clothing over your body and tugged it down roughly, leaving you completely exposed to their starved gaze. 

“What are you waiting for, bird brain?” Dabi touched your throbbing clit, making you lean on him when his digit kept rubbing at that bundle of nerves between your legs over and over again. 

“Dove, are you okay with this?” Keigo asked, swallowing nervously and sweating uncontrollably by the sight of your wet folds presented to him as a treat with arousal dripping down from your thighs and all over the floor. 

“Listen...” You were fed up with waiting “Either you guys get on with it or I’ll kick you both out to go looking for my vibrator!”

“You heard her, bird brain.” Dabi laughed, grabbing you by the shoulders before giving Keigo another smirk full with mockery “Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting now, do you?”

Breathing deeply, Keigo looked at your desperate self one more time before he grabbed your hips, pulling them closer to his own body to begin rubbing himself against the heat of your cunt. 

Having waited long enough, Keigo began undoing his pants and let them fall all the way down to his ankles, they were immediately followed by his boxer. Rather than getting the chance to look at his cock, you only felt it prodding against your sex....and finally, he used a hand to push himself slowly inside, groaning in pleasure when your soft walls stretched around him.

“Oh fuck, You feel…” He gasped “You feel so damn good....!”

Keigo began moving slowly with a steady and enjoyable rhythm. It was so different from Dabi’s usual treatment, who preferred to be rough, but always made up for it with the aftercare, but you couldn’t complain when everything they did made you feel so deliciously good. 

So much that you began leaning over Dabi’s chest unconsciously, and he took advantage of that when he released your shoulders, letting you fall over until your hands grabbed at his own pants, that’s when you came face to face with the bulge hidden underneath the demon’s clothes.

“You didn’t seriously think that I would just stand here and watch, did you, Little one?” He shoved your face into his clothed erection “Come on, don’t you want to please your master as well?”

Nodding at him with a lost smile, you quickly began undoing his pants, struggling to focus as the other male began moving faster, pushing you further against the demon with each snap of his hips. 

Finally, Dabi’s cock was released from his restraints and you quickly took him in your mouth, enjoying the feeling of having your hair pulled as he began thrusting into your mouth.

The room became the scenario for one of the most shameful of symphonies to be heard. A mixture of grunts, hissing, and moans resonated through the walls as both males continued with their little competition. 

[fleetofshippyships]

"you shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous" for any characters/pairing you want

😅 let's not talk about how long I had this sitting around finished before finally posting it...

(Read the full fic on AO3 - 2.9k)

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji Content: Pre-relationship, Burial Mounds, Lan Zhan plays the guqin for Wei Wuxian, Open ending

An Unexpected Visit (and a Promise to Return)

There’s a moment, brief but terrifying, where it feels as if Wei Wuxian’s golden core has been torn from his body anew. The world around him seems to slow, the chattering of the Wens fades to the background, his vision darkens at the edges.

A warm hand touches his own, and everything snaps back as he inhales in a sharp gasp. His shijie still stands before him, and her hand still rests against his where it has risen without permission to hover between them.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” he says, covering Shijie’s hand with his own even though it means prolonging her contact with the filth he’s covered in. “It’s too dangerous. Where is Jiang Cheng?”

Shijie smiles and shakes her head. Instead of speaking, she looks down at his hands.

Wei Wuxian follows her gaze and recoils away. His hands are covered in more grime and filth than is even visible.

Shijie’s hand remains outstretched for a moment, as if still reaching for him, before she lowers it.

“A-Cheng is...” She shakes her head again, her smile faltering a moment before returning as she raises her head and straightens her back. “Lan-er-gongzi showed me the way.”

The tearing sensation returns just as Lan Wangji appears as if waiting to be called. His eyes are lowered as he gracefully steps around the gathered Wens to stand by Shijie’s side. His guqin is strapped to his back, and a bulging bag is slung from one shoulder.

Wei Wuxian searches his face for...he’s not sure what, he never expected to see him again after they parted, but Lan Wangji continues to look down.

“Wen-guniang.”

Wei Wuxian tears his attention from Lan Wangji’s evasion to find Wen Qing has appeared beside him. She looks over the newcomers and then sends him a complicated expression.

“Jiang-guniang, Lan-er-gongzi,” she greets in return.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Shijie says, turning to Lan Wangji.

Without ever raising his gaze from the ground, Lan Wangji smoothly takes the bag from his shoulder and offers it to Wen Qing.

It’s obvious the bag contains food, Wei Wuxian doesn’t need to know his Shijie to know that she would offer food rather than take from the starving, but if she knows, then it can only be because Lan Wangji told her.

When he tries to catch Lan Wangji’s eyes again, he is once more evaded.

Wen Qing and Shijie talk but they seem far away. There’s something inside him that tugs him towards their voices, towards his shijie. It’s an achingly cold thing, seeking Shijie as if she can warm him, but his hands remain soiled in all that he’s done and the thought of touching her now feels like a crime.

It’s easier to focus on the other sensation, the nervous, jittery thing in the pit of his stomach that tugs him towards Lan Wangji. The ache in his throat as he holds back words that would normally fly forth without a care.

It seems like a lifetime ago, that time in the Cloud Recesses, when he would see Lan Wangji in the distance and call out. Those days in the library pavilion, doing anything, saying anything, just to catch Lan Wangji’s attention, and all the better to provoke him into an emotional display, even if it was always anger.

When they parted before, he’d prepared himself for never seeing him again.

To see him again now, not only him, but for him to have brought Shijie here...Wei Wuxian hesitates before doing anything, or saying anything.

Lan Wangji won’t look up, he can’t see his eyes, he can’t know what it means.

The group gathered around them disperses back to their work slowly, taking the bag with them. Wen Qing and Shijie continue to talk in low voices, until something they say catches Lan Wangji’s attention.

Wei Wuxian forces himself to look at them, to look at his shijie, too good for this place, looking like a doomed thing of beauty blooming in a dead place.

“A-Ning took him for a walk, he is well.”

It takes Wei Wuxian a moment to realise they’re talking about A-Yuan. That Lan Wangji must have told Shijie about him, that she must have wondered why no child appeared to see who had come to visit.

“Lan Zhan...”

Lan Wangji finally turns to look at him, and Wei Wuxian finds himself unable to breathe. There’s a steely look of determination around Lan Wangji’s eyes. It’s jarring as it replaces the memories of how gently he had looked at A-Yuan, how kindly he had treated him.

“A-Xian?”

Shijie’s hand rests against his upper arm before he can think to pull away from her. She steps closer and tugs gently at his sleeve.

“A-Cheng told me you’ve been inventing,” she says slowly. “Will you show me?”

Her hand is stark against his dark, dirty sleeve. Like snow resting on burnt earth.

The last place his shijie should be is Yiling.

“You shouldn't be here,” he says, pulling away from her touch again. “Lan Zhan shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Shijie’s expression falters, but before she can speak, Wei Wuxian yelps from the sensation of a sharp slap to the back of his head.

“Is this how you treat guests? Telling them to leave? This is what you will teach A-Yuan?” Wen Qing snaps. She slaps him again, his shoulder this time, hard enough that he stumbles.

Lan Wangji takes one step forward, then takes it back and holds his hands behind his back.

An old, tired feeling wells up in Wei Wuxian. It’s almost like a tickle, a tingle in his legs, telling him to stumble again, just to see what Lan Wangji will do.

Before he can even try, Shijie steps in front of him and firmly grips his shoulders. The look she gives him is shaky around the edges but no less fierce than the times she’d used it on him when he was younger.

“A-Xian, I am here and you can’t make me leave. I’ve missed you, A-Cheng has missed you. If you will not come to Lotus Pier, then I will come to you,” she says seriously, catching his gaze and holding it. “Whatever they say you have done, whatever you havedone, I will notlet it keep us apart.”

She’s standing too close. Close enough to see the darkness twisting and flowing through him. The urge to recoil away is like ants beneath his skin, but the aching, hurting part of him sees only his shijie and even though he means to knock her hands away, he leans into her touch instead.

“Shijie...”

The look of determination fades into something soft and sad. She sees his pain, like she always does, and he has to blink back tears thathe’s always been too free with around her.

“Now, amongst other things, I brought everything I need to make your favourite soup,” she says, lowering her voice as if it’s something secret. “While I impose on Wen-guniangand make soup, you should speak with Lan-er-gongzi. He has travelled a long way to bring me here, and he didn’t do it for me.”

There things he wants to say to her, things he wants to tell her, things he can’ttell her. They all churn and hiss in his belly and throat, but fall silent when she gently cups his face.

“We’ll talk later, over soup, and then you can show me what you’re working on,” she says. “We have time.”

The aching hollow where his golden core should be aches all the more. Time is something too precious for words now, and he knows he discards it too easily.

But before he can say anything, Shijie steps away, turns to Wen Qing and asks to be shown to somewhere she can cook. They move away before Wei Wuxian can do anything more than think about following, and think about trying again to send Shijie away from this dead place that someone so good should never be.

“Wei Ying.”

The sound of his name sends shivers down Wei Wuxian’s spine. He turns to find Lan Wangji has stepped closer and removed the guqin from his back.

The sight of it makes Wei Wuxian feel every lost moment of sleep since the time his core was taken from him, and each moment of pain, anew.

“You still think your music can help me?” he asks, wondering if Lan Wangji had been this stubborn when they’d studied together at the Cloud Recesses. He can’t remember now.

Lan Wangji lowers his eyes. His hands tighten on the guqin, until the delicate blue silk of the wrapping is wrinkling beneath his fingers.

(Read the rest on AO3)

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 9

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623575983503638528/the-long-way-around-chapter-8-link-to-previous

Pairing: Jasper x Reader 

Word count: 2990

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

On the way to the waterfall, I’d done some thinking and come to the unfortunate conclusion that my feelings for Jasper are much more than I originally realized. Previously, any and all feelings I had towards him I interpreted as those I would feel towards a best friend. But I’ve never felt like this towards my best friends before.

Once I’d come to this conclusion, my outing with Jasper became a struggle. I’d had crushes before as a human, but nothing as intense as this and nothing even close to the risk involved when your crush can literally feel your feelings. I had to work so hard to keep myself in check. Jasper didn’t do much to help. He couldn’t have picked a more romantic location, for one. Seeing him doused in water, sparkling in the moonlight and the rising sun didn’t do anything to make me reconsider his beauty. I’d taken special care not to look at his body, knowing the attraction I, and then he, would feel. I’d slipped up once or twice, and I desperately hope he didn’t notice.

And the necklace. Gosh, if he even knew how perfect it is….I’ve never owned anything like it, and the fact that he remembered all those little things from so long ago…well, it makes me feel things.

But I need to keep those feelings under control.

Yes, he’s my best friend and yes, he’s incredibly good to me, but Jasper is way out of my league. Any interest he has in me will be fleeting, especially given how he must view me. I’m wild, barely controlled, a danger to society and monsters alike. Just the differences in our eye color show how incompatible we are. Mine are red, vicious, deadly. His are golden, like melting honey or a dazzling sunset. He doesn’t suddenly become deranged at the thought of human blood. He doesn’t try to hurt the people he owes everything to the minute he smells a human. He’s not weak.

From my side, Jasper eyes me but doesn’t say anything. I swallow the venom in my mouth and try to force my bitterness down with it. As if I needed such a tangible reminder of our incongruity.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before we smell the herd of deer. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he swiftly takes down a doe. He’s so graceful. My own kills are sloppy, desperate. I could never measure up.

Jasper approaches, careful not to startle me in my hunting state. “Are you okay?”

I nod, quickly trying to think of something to say that could explain my sudden moroseness. “I’m just frustrated that my eyes are still so red. I want them to be like yours—the whole family’s,” I correct quickly.

Jasper smiles knowingly. “It takes about a year for all the human blood to leave your system. Only six months to go. But I think,” he takes a step closer to me and peers into my eyes with exaggerated movements, “that I see a tiny bit of gold in them.”

My heart warms, and I do feel better, even if he’s obviously lying for my benefit. “I’m sure you do.”

He gives me a lopsided grin, and I find myself hoping to see more of those in the future.

Quickly, we wrap up our hunting and continue the journey home. About half a mile away from the house, Jasper skids to a stop, his arms flying out to grip me around the waist to cause me to stop, too.

“Something’s wrong.” His voice is calm, totally in contrast to the rod of fear that shoots through me. “It’s okay,” he assures, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Just stay by me.”

Not that I would need any encouragement. If I wasn’t so terrified, I might be able to enjoy the feeling of his hands on my waist, holding me close. But now is not the time, so I push those thoughts away. Instead, I focus on what I can hear, see, and sense around me. Nothing out of the ordinary. But I trust Jasper and his ability, so I stick close to him.

We approach the house slowly for vampires, carefully taking note of our surroundings. When we get to the back deck, Bella meets us outside, looking somber. Before we can ask, she waves us in, and we see Esme sitting in a kitchen chair, eyes screwed shut. She lets out a soft cry, signaling her pain.

“Esme,” I gasp, running to her.

She smiles stiffly, obviously not wanting anyone to worry about her. “It’s alight, it’s just a few little bites. The pain will go away soon.”

Hating seeing this kind, wonderful woman in pain but at a loss for what to do, I go to stand behind her and hug around her neck, letting my head rest on top of hers.

“What happened?” Jasper’s voice is tight, dangerous. I’ve never heard him sound like that before, and, if I didn’t know him so well, I would be scared of him.

Bella’s voice is quiet when she responds, so much so that I almost have to strain to hear her. “Esme went about thirty miles south for a quick hunt. She says another vampire, a female, came out of nowhere and attacked her.”

Just then, the front door bursts open. I jump, spooked.

But it’s just Carlisle, looking like he’s been torn apart. “My love, what happened?” He kneels in front of Esme, taking her hands in his. I pull back just a little to give them their space, though I don’t release my hands from Esme’s shoulders.

In a strained voice, Esme recounts what Bella had told us so far, and then continues. “The vampire came out of nowhere, Carlisle. I don’t know what I did to provoke her, but she seemed intent on finishing the fight. She only stopped when she heard Alice and Arthur coming to help me.” The pain in Esme’s voice is palpable. I can practically feel it in my own bones. I squirm, uncomfortable.

Carlisle doesn’t look any better off. He touches his forehead to Esme’s hands, breathing deeply. “I should’ve been there. You never should have had to go by yourself, I’m so sorry-”

“Carlisle, don’t be ridiculous. I should have known better than to hunt alone, really I-”

Jasper interrupts their pointless efforts to take blame. “Are Alice and Arthur still in pursuit?”

Bella nods. “And Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie. Hopefully they’ll pick up a trail.”

Jasper shakes his head, his mind quickly working through the situation. “It doesn’t make sense for someone to attack out of the blue. Do we have any clue as to her motivation?”

Now Esme shakes her head, looking dismayed. “Maybe I unknowingly entered someone else’s territory? Honestly, I thought we were the only coven for miles.”

Carlisle hushes her and strokes her hair gently. “It’s alright, darling, you just rest.”

But Esme smiles, placing a kiss on Carlisle’s head. “The pain is fading, my love. Don’t fret.”

Carlisle isn’t satisfied. “Would you like to go lie down? I can try to suck the venom out, maybe it hasn’t begun circulating yet.”

“I promise, the pain is barely there now. The vampire must not have bitten me very deeply.” Esme’s gaze softens and she takes Carlisle’s head in her hands. “But I would like to go lie down with you.”

Still seeming very concerned, Carlisle helps Esme up and begins to lead her out of the room.

It jolts us all when Esme lets out a yelp of pain and stumbles. Carlisle immediately swoops her up into his arms, looking absolutely gutted. “I would prefer to try and get the venom out.”

Teeth gritted, Esme nods. “Yes, I agree.” Quickly, Carlisle ascends the stairs, leaving just Jasper, Bella, and I in the kitchen.

Once Esme is out of the room, my discomfort fades, much to my guilt.

Bella’s phone rings, and she quickly takes the call, speaking lowly. When she’s done, she speaks loud enough so Carlisle and Esme can hear her from upstairs.

“That was Edward. They lost the trail of the vampire about a hundred miles south of where Esme was attacked. They’ll be back soon.”

I nod, still feeling terribly down. Poor Esme. Seeing the pain so plainly expressed by her made me feel terrible for the similar bites I’d inflicted on Edward and Jasper. Almost instantly, my guilt disappears, and I turn my head to Jasper, who’s looking at me with concern and curiosity. I don’t offer an explanation though, not quite ready to be so vulnerable in front of Bella, especially as it had been her husband who was one of my victims.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice my mood. Instead, she leans over, getting a better look at the necklace peeking out over my shirt.

“That’s gorgeous. When did you get it?”

Unable to stop the smile or the feeling of warmth that arises, I let it flow freely. He has a right to know how happy his gift made me. “Jasper gave it to me, actually. Isn’t it just perfect?” I carefully pull the necklace forward, allowing her to see it more fully.

Jasper looks uncomfortable with the attention, but pleased overall.

The three of us spend the next forty minutes idly chatting and doing our best to give Esme privacy to recuperate. Not too much later, the five other members of the family get back to the house. Carlisle and Esme come down then. Thankfully, Carlisle had been able to get some of the venom out, so she seems much more comfortable now. At Carlisle’s direction, we file into the dining room and take our places at the large, imposing table.

Alice begins, recounting how she had a vision of an unknown vampire choosing to attack Esme, reason also unknown, and she and Arthur rushed to help. Edward takes over, explaining that, once he and Emmett and Rosalie had gotten home from the library and Bella told them what had happened, they joined the pursuit. Only six out of the ten of us know the vampire’s scent, leaving Carlisle, Bella, Jasper, and I at a disadvantage.

“I say we continue our usual patterns but increase our precautions. The four of us who don’t know the scent shouldn’t be without someone who does. Also, stay in groups of at least three. We don’t want to risk being outnumbered.”

We all nod solemnly.

“Y/n, Jasper,” Carlisle continues, startling me with singling us out. “You were hunting north, how far did you go? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

I shift in my seat, knowing we’re about to be exposed for our lie. Thankfully, Jasper does the talking.

“We went about a hundred miles north, and we didn’t notice anything unusual. Although, we didn’t spend a lot of time covering ground hunting, so we really wouldn’t know much.” Is it my imagination, or does he look embarrassed? Ouch.

Emmett immediately expresses his intrigue. “Really? What could’ve been occupying your time then? A hundred miles north…alone?” There’s a teasing glint in his eye, but what’s even scarier is the real curiosity behind it.

Edward rolls his eyes. “Now is not the time, Emmett.”

“No, he’s got a point.” Rosalie holds up a hand, staring us down. “What were you two doing?”

I decide to give Jasper a break from always having to explain. “There’s a waterfall we wanted to see.”

Esme smiles, a strange look in her eye, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Just a waterfall?” Rosalie doesn’t seem convinced.

“And a pool,” I supply, defensive now.

Bella chimes in, seeming shy. “She got a very pretty necklace, too.”

Emmett claps his hands down on the table, staring at us like we’ve just given him a gift. “Now that’s interesting.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Carlisle comes to our aid, but even he wears a soft smile. “Remember the new rules and exercise good judgement. We need to be on our guard until we know more.”

With that dismissal, the family begins to leave the room. Emmett makes a beeline for me, likely to engage in more investigation and teasing, but I hurry to flag down Carlisle. There’s something I want to discuss with him.

“Do you have a minute,” I ask, feeling ridiculously nervous and insecure. I can feel Jasper’s gaze pricking at my back, but I don’t turn. I’m not sure if I could go through with my request if Jasper was sitting next to me, refined as he is. What I am about to ask is going to make me feel very, very, inferior.

“Of course,” Carlisle smiles, gesturing a hand forward. “Let’s go to my study.”

I follow him down the hall and take a seat across from his desk. Carlisle sits, folds his hands, then gazes at me kindly. “What can I do for you?”

I fidget. Carlisle gives me the time I need to breathe and work up the courage. Bless him.

Finally, I just spit the words out. “I was wondering if you would help me get better with my self-control.”

His politeness never falters. “I think you are doing very well already, Y/n, rest assured.”

I sigh. “Thank you, but I want to do better. I want to be able to leave the house and-and go to the library or at the very least, think about human blood without-” Like clockwork, the venom pools in my mouth. I wave a hand, knowing Carlisle is aware of it.

He nods slowly, contemplating. “You have a point, we can’t keep you locked up here forever.” He throws me a kind smile. “I could bring some blood home from the hospital. It has been frozen and stored, so it won’t be anywhere near as potent as it would be inside a living being. That might be a good place to start. Once you get used to that, perhaps we can go near popular hiking areas or the edge of town so you can slowly ease yourself into interacting with humans.”

I smile, endlessly grateful to Carlisle for taking my request seriously and being willing to help me. “Thank you.” I hesitate, not sure if it’s rude to ask what I want to know. Then again, Carlisle probably wouldn’t deny me any information. So I ask. “How long did it take everyone else to be okay around humans?”

Carlisle smiles, thankfully not offended by my question. “It varies greatly from person to person. Everyone is ‘born’, if you’ll excuse my terminology, with varying dispositions to certain aspects of this new life, just as humans are born and grow to find certain areas of life easier for them than others. For me, self-control was never a question of if, but when. It took me nearly two centuries, but now I can be around human blood flowing freely and barely feel a thing. Edward was fairly quick to gain control, and I suspect hearing the thoughts of those he wished to kill aided in his success. I wager it’s hard to kill someone if you’re so starkly aware of their humanity. Esme and Emmett both struggled, and will be the first to admit they slipped up many times. But they put in the work and have gotten much better in the last forty years. The true stars of us all are Rosalie and Bella. Only mere weeks after her transformation, Rose was able to be around bleeding humans and resist the temptation. Bella once began chasing after a human, and then stopped. Both of them are remarkable.” I can hear the respect in his voice, and wonder just how hard it was for him in his early years. He continues. “Alice, Arthur, and Jasper came to us later in their lives, so we weren’t with them to experience the newborn stage. Both Alice and Arthur were vegetarians from the start, with moderate success, and they’ve gotten much better since. Of all of us, Jasper struggles the most.” This surprises me. I never would’ve guessed. To me, Jasper seems so controlled, so refined, so advanced.

I’m unable to curb my curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Am I correct in assuming you know about Jasper’s past?” I nod, remembering easily the horror stories from Jasper’s younger years. Carlisle continues. “Then you will know that, for over seventy years, Jasper survived solely on human blood, the longest of any of us.” I nod again. I’d known this, too. “When Jasper found us and learned of our lifestyle, he was very curious and committed to changing. But, seventy years of living one way is impactful. It’s nearly a human’s entire lifetime. Jasper became very accustomed to the taste, temptation, and satisfaction of human blood. For the longest time, the memory and temptation of it tortured him. He slipped up a few times, but at each and every point made a choice to come back to our lifestyle. Much like Edward, it’s hard for him to know the feelings of the people he kills. It was destroying him. The animals, while less instinctively satisfying, provide a much more peaceful life for him.”

I let that information settle. Poor Jasper…My heart aches for him. The pain of experiencing death after death through the feelings of your victim…the torture of being surrounded by humans after a lifetime of feeding on them….I don’t know how he bears it.

Carlisle’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts. “All this to say, I honestly have no idea how long it will take you to be confident around humans. But please know that as long as you desire our help, we offer it freely.”

I smile, endlessly grateful for the benevolent vampire sitting across from me. “Thank you, Carlisle.” But my mind creeps back to Jasper, and I know that my next conversation must be with him.

A/n Hi again! I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx, 

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/624011835356626944/the-long-way-around-chapter-10

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li @femflorals @80strashbag

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (22/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Vassa is changed forever. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

There are legends before legends, which whisper of beings who preceded the Mother, who knew her and walked with her when the world was young. Though the human realms ostensibly rid themselves of the ancient tales, in Scythia such stories were part of a queen’s education, and watching the Archeron sisters prepare for their spell, their gowns whispering on the marble floors of the Spring Court, Vassa feels as if she is watching the old goddesses step out of the realm of myth and into Prythian, into the great hall of the Spring Court.

Feyre would be the Mother, watching over her sisters as they review the sequence and the calls to their magic. The natural leader, drawing people together and believing the best in them, seeing that spark that nobody else can discern. All through their preparations, she has taken Vassa’s hands within her own and squeezed them, telling her that they will be with her, that they will not abandon her. Whatever frustrations Vassa has had within the High Lady of the Night Court, they vanish in the face of this earnest care.

Nesta is the Crone, though even Vassa would be afraid to speak the words aloud to her. The one who has seen all things and borne them, made beauty out of pain and knows that even the deepest hurt is possible to survive. The one who looks death in the eye and does not blink. Even so, she’s tied her sword and the Dread Trove tight to her body, in case her magic is not enough, though she’s seen Elain eye the crown with fear and then shake herself, as if trying to drive the thought from her presence completely. But Nesta admits no fear on her face, only a fierce certainty, and Vassa finds herself a little less afraid in her presence.

Which leaves Elain as the Maiden. Months ago, Vassa would have given the title with derision, but now she realizes why the Maiden was worshipped so long ago: she saw a new world, dreamed it into life. And this is what her friend has become. No more the hapless tool of men who did not recognize her worth, Elain believed that this world could be a better one, that Tamlin could be a hero, that Lucien could find his place, that Vassa could be free of her curse.

Still, when she looks at Vassa, Elain’s brown eyes are worried, just this side of terrified, and Vassa feels all the warmth leave her body. In the space of moments, Elain is going to take her hand and rip her apart.

Her friend takes a step towards her, but Lucien enters the room and Elain changes course, studying the dimensions of the room, the wards that Feyre has painted on the floor in silver and gold. They are supposed to guard against Koschei’s magic, according to Lucien, although nobody can say with total certainty that he will be kept at bay. A small battalion of volunteer guards, led by Tamlin, surround the estate.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lucien says. “If you are afraid -- I will find another way. Without pain or transformation. So you can return to your people, have the life you always wanted.” She knows how deeply he means the words, which come out of him in little bursts, his fingers clutched around each other in a tangle. He has promised to watch over her, to make sure that she is safe. If she is being honest, she is not sure what he can do. Still, she cannot imagine arriving at this moment, this pain and death and whatever might lay beyond, without him.

“A queen should be courageous,” she tells him, lifting her chin.

“You are not only a queen, Vassa.”

There are a thousand words under those words, the kind of phrases that the poets of Scythia would declaim at banquets in praise of love and beauty. And yet all Vassa needs is that quick phrase from Lucien to remind her of herself. Who she is. Who she could be, if she does not perish.

“I will come back to you, Lucien. Even if the spell goes wrong. Even if the magic tears me to pieces. I will find my way back to you.”

She reaches out, heedless of the pain, to hold his face in her hands. The feel of his skin under her palms, his hair at her fingertips. The quick mind that works inside, where nobody can see. All of it provokes in her a deep, nearly overwhelming tenderness.

She loves him.

She cannot tell him now, not when the words will haunt him.

“I will take you back to Scythia.” His gaze is fierce on hers. “No matter what. You deserve to be in your country. With the people who love you best.”

Her eyes hot and blurred with tears, she presses her lips to his, pushing the pain away to savor the spice on his lips, the sip of whisky they’d shared as they’d readied themselves for this moment. His mouth opens against hers with a little groan.

She pulls away just before the pain overwhelms her, before she can let herself realize what it would mean, to lose him.

“Tell me you will be here with me,” Vassa says, once she’s caught her breath.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” Lucien says, and winks his russet eye.

When Vassa looks around, she realizes that the Archeron sisters have been watching her discreetly, even as they’ve conferred amongst themselves.

“Are you ready?” Elain asks, and Vassa is grateful for her warm wide-eyed gaze, the certainty that if she said no, Elain would wait a century to put her hands on Vassa.

Instead, she meets those deep brown eyes. She says “yes” loud enough that the words echo in the hall. The decree of a queen. Perhaps the last word she will ever speak as Queen of Scythia.

The Acheron sisters walk toward her, forming a triangle, surrounded by the wards and runes which gild the floor. Steps away, Lucien watches, his body taut, poised to strike.

With an indrawn breath, Elain reaches for her, and Vassa surrenders.

&

&

&

The pain rips and tears at Vassa, holding her in its grip with fire and stinging bolts of power, elements that are beyond this earth, beyond anything that she has ever experienced. The sensation is so overwhelming that she cannot tell whether she is screaming or whether her eyes are open, whether she fights it or is frozen to the spot. All she can do is will herself to breathe, to continue on through this vortex that rips her apart, steadily and then all at once. She can only hope that she still clings to Elain’s hands, the gentle press of her fingers that invited this apocalypse.

Suddenly, everything around her is thick darkness, a starless sky. She tries to move her hands, her legs, but there is nothing to move.

The pain is gone, and so is every other part of herself.

She thought that she would be lonely or frightened, but the absence of pain is such a welcome gift that Vassa finds herself enjoying the darkness, reveling in the sensation of nothing. She had not realized how much the curse had taken from her, day after day, until, now, left with nothing, she feels abundant.

There is a softening of the darkness. A hint of white light, a flickering of a silver flame. The barest whiff of jasmine. Then, brightening the darkness is a thread of gold, dazzling to Vassa’s vision. She feels the warmth of it gather her awareness into a central point, a caress against her skin that smells of citrus and sandalwood and the ozone scent after a lightning strike, a scent she knows better than her own.

The sound of a chord being plucked on a harp, a shimmering golden light, and the three Archeron sisters stand before her. On one side of the triangle, Nesta wears the mask of the Dread Trove, holds the harp in her hands. On the other side, Feyre holds out her palms to reveal a concentrated beam of white light, from which a rainbow emerges, thick with raw magic. And around Elain, in the center, there is a pillar of light that encircles her sisters. A small bone cupped in her palm, around which the light spills.

Behind her, formed from that first cord of golden light, Lucien appears.

Vassa does not know if this magic will work, or if this is a hallucination in the realm of the dead, but she will never stop being grateful for this one last look at him, illuminated in the golden light which smooths the worry from his face, only shows the working of his mind as he beholds her.

Although Vassa can feel the boundaries of herself, demarcated by the golden cord, she cannot move, cannot feel the air of this place against her skin, or suck air into her lungs.

Still, there is such hope in Lucien’s face.

I will come back to you, she thinks.

The words echo in this realm, a peal of bells.

Elain turns her head toward Lucien, a smile on her face, and her magic flares brighter.

Feyre extends her hands, and the white light becomes a rainbow that enters Vassa with a surge of power. She is pure possibility, a thousand eyes and hands, every magic that has ever existed.

Then she feels the pull of the golden cords, and the roar of possibility becomes a song inside her, a melody that is beautiful and haunting, a firebird queen ripped from her country, trapped by a lake until she was rescued by creatures she’d never known before, who became her best and dearest friends. Who showed her that she could become something else entirely. That she did not have to be the Queen of Scythia or the cursed firebird, but only Vassa, this small form in a dark expanse.

A peace that is nurtured by beauty, she thinks, the words cascading through the darkness, and now Elain grins directly at her, her warm eyes illuminated by the light of her power.

Nesta raises her hands, twists her wrists as she forms two fists.

As if she is daring the darkness to claim Vassa.

Then she opens her fists with a sudden gesture, and light explodes in the darkness.

Two bolts of silver flame fly towards her, landing in the center of her being.

She can feel her heart begin to beat, warmth spread through her body.

Her gasp of breath does not echo but sounds in the expanse.

This body, the collection of her self, feels so like and unlike the way she felt in those days when she was first made Queen of Scythia. So sure and capable, bursting with energy and promise. And yet she has never felt this vital, this at peace. The heart that beats in her chest could mark this same rhythm for a thousand years. She does not need to see her reflection, the arched ears or some new faerie grace, to know that the transformation has taken place. She feels the change in her veins, rushing through her, making her into a Vassa wholly like and unlike the human queen who existed only moments before.

She extends her arm, and a wind rises in a great gust, and the world is an intermingling of light and darkness, nowhere and everywhere at once.

&

&

&

When Vassa opens her eyes, she sees the ceiling of the great hall of the Spring Court, and then Lucien’s eyes, one filled with tears, and the other, his golden eye, constantly moving, as if it cannot believe that she is here before him.

“Did it work?” she asks, and instantly knows the answer. Her voice sounds different to her ears, more musical, as if in speech she can find only the most pleasing tones.

“You sent us back with your own power,” he tells her, his fingers tracing her face, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I should have known you would only come out of this stronger.”

“You’ll have to train me,” she says, trying her imperious voice, gladdened when it sounds more forceful than ever, though its effect on Lucien is unchanged. He rolls his eyes, can’t manage to hide his smile.

“Anything you require, Your Majesty.”

She doubts it will be so simple, but she allows him to inspect her without complaint, cup her shoulders and study her toes, run his hands up her silken skirts to the knee, cup her ankles with his long fingers. Now she can hear the slight hitch in his breath, smell a musk from his skin that might signal desire.

There is no pain at his touch, only pleasure and comfort. A wanting that coils below her belly. Whatever magic has been kindled inside her today, nothing about her feelings for Lucien has changed. Still, the space in the circle of his arms feels more like home than any place she’s ever known.

Even Scythia.

She does not know what to do with this knowledge, which seems more overwhelming than this new version of myself. Instead, she casts her eyes around the room.

Around her, the world is more vibrant than she’s ever seen it with human eyes, as if she were given the vision of the firebird while being allowed to remain inside her own mind. She studies Lucien’s hair, the endless variations of gold and red, until he pulls it from her fingers, apologizing with a kiss.

When she turns her head to look at this new landscape, Elain’s gown catches her attention. The floral embroidery is a jewel box of color and texture.

“Of course Lucien does a tiny amount of work and gets all the credit,” Nesta grumbles to Feyre, low enough that Vassa’s human ears wouldn’t have heard the remark.

“I can give you a thank you kiss if you’d like, Nesta,” she retorts from the floor, her arms still around Lucien’s neck. “I won’t forget who started my heart.”

As if summoned, the three sisters gather around her, Feyre with soft inquiries about how she feels and promises to help with her training, Nesta’s stern features quickly giving way to a brilliant smile, glad and triumphant, and Elain’s eyes passing over her wonderingly. When she reaches to squeeze Vassa’s shoulder, she hesitates for a moment, and so Vassa takes her hand in her own fingers, holding so tight to Elain that she can feel the bones below the skin and muscle, the pulse of each of their hearts.

“You remembered,” Elain says, her eyes bright with tears. She’s remembering the phrase Vassa summoned in the darkness, intoned by a thousand bells.

“It’s the legacy of the person who saved me.” Vassa does not tell her, might never be able to express, the way that phrase had strengthened her during her second captivity, when even the thought of Lucien was too painful. “Do you know how strong you are?”

Elain leans forward and wraps her arms around Vassa, so tight that Vassa can feel her friend’s tears as they fall against her neck.

“You are going to be the most excellent queen, but before you go back to Scythia, I’m going to take you to every world,” Elain whispers. “Lucien is going to be so jealous.”

“Lucien can use his tethering spell,” the male in question says, his voice full of longsuffering.

“Only if he behaves himself,” Vassa says, and then, even though she said nothing particularly funny, she and Elain can’t stop laughing, and then her sisters join in, and finally even Lucien begins to laugh, and though by now the night has swallowed Prythian, around Vassa there is nothing but light.

[hawkbucks]

For @kimannhart​! I love you! I know you like Buzzfeed Unsolved, so I did a little AU inspired by that for you! :D I hope this is fine! 

“There’s a ghost in here, there’s a ghost in here,” Tony frantically whispers as he grabs the sleeve of Bucky’s hoodie. The lights they have strapped to their heads are bright, but they do little to calm Tony down as he can see every suspicious platter, every slight movement he perceives in the shadows. This is terrible. Absolutely terrible. He doesn’t know why he allows his boyfriend to drag him into these situations. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s still with his boyfriend if he’s being honest. He should’ve broken up with him the second he suggested they explore haunted places and put the videos up on YouTube. 

“There’s no ghost in here, plural or otherwise,” Bucky replies. The closest thing he’s seen to a ghost so far is a rat that scurried across the floor with a slice of pizza in its mouth. This place is nowhere near a pizzeria, so he doesn’t know how the rat managed to get that, but good for them. Good for them. It made for some nice footage. 

“It’s cold and there’s a ghost in here.” Tony plasters himself to Bucky’s side. “Stop filming. There’s, like, a million ghosts in here.” 

Bucky slips his hand into Tony’s and gives it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll protect you from all the scary ghosts out there.” He can’t keep a smile from forming on his face or from showing in his voice. His boyfriend’s just really cute. Even when he’s scared. Especially when he’s scared, actually, because then he wants to cuddle more. 

“You’re patronizing me, stop patronizing me.” Bucky moves the camera to film Tony’s pout. “No, don’t film me! Rhodey is going to make fun of me.” 

“Baby, Rhodey doesn’t have to see your face to make fun of you.” That earns him a smack on the arm. For how small Tony is, he can hit damn hard. 

Bucky keeps his arm wrapped around Tony’s waist as they explore the upstairs of the building. They’ve heard some bangs, and those were enough to set Tony even closer to the edge than he was before. Sure, Tony is clinging onto his torso hard enough that he thinks he might end up with some bruises there, but it’s a small price to pay to keep him from bolting and potentially hurting himself because who knows what kind of shit is laying around on the ground in here. “Man, these ghosts are cowards.”

“Oh, don’t provoke them,” Tony moans. “I don’t want a soccer ball or--or a volleyball or something thrown at my head.” 

“Sportballs are the worst thing you can think of to be thrown at your head?” 

“Have you ever been hit in the head with a soccer ball?” 

Bucky takes a moment to ponder that question. “I see where you’re coming from. They’re still cowards, though.”

“Nope.”

“Hey, ghosts! My boyfriend thinks--”

“Bucky.” 

“--you guys are cowards, too!” 

“Do not put words in my mouth! I don’t think you guys are cowards. In fact, stay far away from me!” Tony frowns, his next couple of footsteps coming down harder than usual. “Now you have me talking to the ghosts! I hate this.” 

Bucky puts the camera down. “Do you want to leave?” he asks softly, breaking character. “If you want to, we can.” 

Tony shakes his head. “It’s fine. I want to see this through.” 

Bucky brings the camera back up and goes, “Cowards!” 

“That doesn’t mean keep provoking them!” 

“I think it’d be fun,” Bucky says, gesturing to the closet they found in one of the rooms. “I stay in there for a few minutes, see if something happens.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of fun.” Tony, as he usually does when Bucky suggests doing that kind of thing, sounds distressed. He’s standing a good couple of feet away from the door, while Bucky is damn near pressed up against it. “What if something happens to you?” 

“Nothing’ll happen.” Bucky takes Tony’s hand a presses a kiss to his knuckles. He sets the camera down on a dusty table conveniently located nearby. “Just wait here for a moment.” 

Bucky screams like never before. 

Tony panics, heart racing, blood draining from his face. He rushes to open the closet, but is stopped when Bucky bursts through like the goddamn Kool-Aid Man.

“There was a fucking spider!” Bucky screeches. “Big as my fucking hand! Fuck!” 

“Oh my god,” Tony groans, his hands slightly shaking from leftover adrenaline. “You suck. You suck. I really thought something bad happened to you.” 

“A spider crawled on my face, sweetheart, I think it’s safe to say I’m traumatized. That was worse than what any ghost could do to me,” Bucky wheezes as he doubles over, hands on his knees. He straightens up and holds his arms wide. “Hug?” 

“You big baby,” Tony sniffs. He goes to hug Bucky anyway. 

Bucky takes a sharpie out of his backpack and grins. “We could write something on the walls.” 

“That’s vandalism,” Tony points out. He accepts Bucky’s offer of the sharpie.

“Only if you get caught.” Bucky winks. “Plus, I’m pretty sure that what we’re doing right now is illegal, anyhow. Trespassing on private property?” 

“Cut the entire video out.” 

“Anything for you, darling.” Bucky puts down the camera and uncaps the sharpie. 

“Huh.” Bucky looks over Tony’s handwriting. “‘Behind you’?” 

Tony beams, innocent as ever. “I thought it would be funny.” He looks at what Bucky has written. “Oh my god, you sap.” 

“No,” Bucky replies. Warmth rises up his neck.

“’B and T forever’? In a heart? You’re adorable.” Tony reaches up to squish Bucky’s cheeks. 

“I am manly and strong.” 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be adorable,” Tony coos. “I think even the ghosts would agree that was pretty cute.” 

They both freeze when they hear faint footsteps downstairs.

“Did you hear that?” Tony whispers, eyes wide. “I don’t like this.” 

“Turn off your light, turn off your light,” Bucky urges as he turns his off. Tony follows suit. “That sounded like a real person.” His mind starts racing at a mile a minute. If anything happens, he supposes he could throw his backpack at the person--maybe even fight them off, give Tony a chance to get out. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins. He keeps the camera up, thankful that it has a night vision setting. 

Tony’s breathing turns heavy, and that’s how Bucky knows that he’s well and truly terrified. God, but Bucky feels horrible. He was the one who suggested they come here, and now... now it seems like the situation has taken a turn for the worse. 

He shuffles both Tony and himself into a room behind the stairs. “Maybe they won’t come up?” Bucky says, hopeful.

As if on cue, they hear the steps creaking.

“You jinxed it,” Tony hisses, hand clutching onto the front of Bucky’s hoodie. 

Light shines as the person makes their way up. From their vantage point, Bucky can see that they’re using their phone’s flashlight. Smart. Makes it easier to find people. 

Shit. 

The person makes a left after reaching the top. Some of the light reflects back onto them, and... hold on. Hold on. That shirt. 

“Steve?” Bucky blurts out. He brings the camera down. 

Steve whips his body around and looks at them. Tony covers his eyes with the back of his hand. “Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes out. “I’ve been trying to call you guys for the past fucking hour. You guys wouldn’t pick up and I knew you guys came here. I was afraid something happened to you guys. I had to drive 30 minutes! 30 minutes! It’s 3 A.M.!” 

“I thought you would be a ghost,” Tony says mournfully. 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not.” Steve presses his mouth in a thin line. “C’mon, you two are getting out of here. And we’re stopping by somewhere to eat along the way. I’m hungry.” 

“What place is open at 3 A.M.?” Bucky asks incredulously. 

“Denny’s,” Tony answers. 

Bucky grimaces. “I would rather let a ghost throw a soccer ball at me.”

“I’ll be the one to throw a soccer ball at you if you don’t get your asses out of here,” Steve threatens, and something about his posture and tone of voice tells Bucky that it’s not an empty threat. “Let’s go. I want pancakes.” 

“Can I get an omelette?” Tony ventures. 

“Of course. Bucky, you can have whatever’s left over.” 

“Aw, come on.”  

[charlieism]

Only My Ashes Will See The Sea

Description:

Ethan, Lex and Hannah reunite in death.

Read on ao3!

Ethan was surrounded by darkness. Infinite, endless blackness; he’d say it stretched on as far as he could see, but as it was, it was so dark he didn’t even know if he was seeing, if his eyes were even truly open.

He couldn’t say how long he floated there for, searching for any glimpse of light. He didn’t know where he was, or where everyone else was, or what was happening. The last thing he remembered was Hannah, terrified and teary-eyed; he’d told her to run, his last coherent memory was just the panicked desperation with which he tried to get her to safety. He wondered if she was okay, if she’d gotten away from those psychos who—Jesus. Did they stab him? He remembered being punched in the face by the feral-looking man, and then a blinding pain in his stomach, sharper than anything he’d ever felt before. He told Hannah to run, then he was thrown to the floor and then it was a blur of pain and thuds and kicks, and then… then… then what?

It was hard to think about. It made his head hurt. He stopped thinking about the moments leading up to now, and focused instead on the chilling situation he was currently in.

The Blackness encompassed him, smothering him, drowning him, its emptiness beginning to drive any rational thoughts from his mind. There was just nothing here, this place felt like the total absence of everything. His mind began to fall into a spiral, panic and fear eating away at what felt like his very sanity. Ethan began to question if he was even alive, and the thought made him freak out even harder than before, despite a hidden part of him instinctively knowing the truth: he was dead. Ethan felt like he was hyperventilating, but there was no air in this empty space, and though he thrashed around he had no way of knowing if he was even actually moving. He couldn’t even see his hands. A scream built up in his chest, clawing its way up through his throat and swelling in his mouth. He could barely keep the shriek in; pure terror, anxiety and panic were working their way through his veins to make his voice louder, but a split second before he snapped and let it out a wisp of a voice floated through his mind.

Calm, it said.

The shock of it, of hearing sound after what felt like eons trapped in nothingness made Ethan swallow compulsively and blink hard. The darkness that came from squeezing his eyelids shut was indiscernible from the Black surrounding him.

“What?” he rasped, alert, ears practically pricked like a dog’s while he searched for another break in the maddening monotony of the void. There was no reply, no strange, other-worldly voice, but a memory pushed its way into the front of his mind. It was a happy memory, one of his happiest, really, and it was so recent it was a crystal clear picture in his mind. 

Hannah, putting on his old cap, her big brown eyes full of trust and awe when he swore to her it’d protect her from anything. He’d been so elated and amazed when she’d listened to him. Then Lex, posing on the steps out the back of Toy Zone, belting her dreams of being an actor in California while he pretended to roll a camera on her. She’d looked so happy up there, so hopeful that it had infected Ethan, made him believe they’d really make it out. The way Lex had smiled into their kiss afterwards, bubbling over with the sheer joy he so rarely saw from her, had made his heart skip a beat. Then there was Hannah, acting like a doofus and copying his smoking dance afterwards; it’d made him laugh on the inside, though he didn’t dare show it in front of Lex. God, he loved them. He loved them more than anybody else in the world; Lex made his heart feel warm and full and whole like nobody else he’d ever met. Ethan was completely and utterly devoted to her. And he loved Hannah, too. He had the urge to protect her like he was her own brother, or her dad, or whatever the hell that kid needed him to be. He’d do anything for her. He just wanted to look after them, his girls, so that Lex wouldn’t have to cry so much anymore and Hannah wouldn’t have to be scared all the time. California was going to fix all of that. They were all so excited to get there. They’d all been so hopeful.

The happy memories felt tinged with bittersweetness now, but they were still effective. The lingering excitement, joy and love he’d felt no-so-long ago (was it hours? Or days? The amount of time he felt he’d been kept in the Black seemed to be shrinking now that his mind wasn’t running on animalistic terror), was beating back the overwhelming anxiety he’d been feeling a minute ago. He focused on the memory of Lex’s laugh, of Hannah’s shy smile, of the happy glimmer in both of their eyes, and his panic retreated, shoved back by the memory of their joy. He’d done that. He’d made them hopeful, made them happy, promised them that things would get better until they believed it. Ethan thought he could feel tears building in his eyes, his sinuses burning, but he wasn’t sure. He thought about the way Lex laughed at him when he did something dumb, exactly the reaction he was always trying to provoke from her, and let out a small, wet laugh himself.

Black and White, the voice whispered eerily, and Ethan startled. Were his eyes closed now? He realised they were, and he cracked them open slowly. At first he could barely tell the difference between his eyes being open and shut, the Black around him as absolute as it had a few hysteric minutes ago. But then, as his eyes flickered around the infinite darkness, it began to lighten.

The change was hardly noticeable at first, the pitch-black void only lightening by a few degrees to a deep, dark grey, but it was enough. He gasped, shakily, and tears filled his eyes again, this time with relief. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that the penetrating darkness was becoming lighter and that was good enough for him. He focused on the memory of how tightly Lex had clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist and laughing into his neck when he told them how much money they were going to make, when she realised they were really going to make it California, and the dim grey lightened even further. He thought of Hannah on a good day, how she smiled when he called her Banana and talked back to him in her own stilted way, and the world got brighter. He let himself feel how much he loved his girls, his family, the sheer force of his emotion overwhelming him even as tinged with worry, concern and grief as it was, and soon the Black turned completely to White. 

He was still floating, it was still infinite and all-encompassing and terrifying, but it was… safer, than the Black. It wasn’t driving him insane, it wasn’t smothering him, it wasn’t trapping him, it was just holding him in place. He was kind of... resting there, clinging to the thoughts of his family. At least here he could see, though the bright White of it all threatened to hurt his eyes with how it shone. His dark, worn leather jacket contrasted sharply with the colourless background, and he took comfort in its familiarity, hugging his arms around himself. Ethan simply stood and breathed for God-knows how long, readjusting to his setting. Well, standing didn’t seem entirely accurate (nothing felt solid here, not even the space beneath his feet), but nevertheless, it was an improvement to the Black.

It still wasn’t great, though

It was silent again, that strange, ethereal voice having disappeared. And he was still alone, lingering isolated in a boundless void. He tried to focus on the memories of Lex and Hannah again, and they came surprisingly easy in this place. Far easier than they had in the Black, at least. He was beginning to feel sane again, his mind less tortured.

And then, after an indeterminate amount of time, there was the faintest boom-crash noise that shook him from his stupor. He looked up, glancing around for the source of the noise, but the White remained as unfathomably blank as it had always been. And then, from behind him moments later, there was a voice. It was trembling and wavering, choked-up and terrified. It was heart-wrenchingly, achingly familiar.

“Ethan?” Lex’s voice warbled.

Ethan spun around so fast he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash, his plaid shirt twisting about his legs. Lex and Hannah stood a way away from him, holding each other, staring at him in shock. Their very presence made the White seem more solid, more like a real place, and the relief at seeing their figures there made him slump in on himself, a sharp exhale tearing its way out of him. Tears rose in his eyes, but this time he knew for sure he was almost crying because Lex and Hannah blurred and doubled in his vision.

“Lex! Hannah!” he yelled, and bolted towards them, feet hitting the White ground solidly and taking him swiftly towards his girls.

They stood in place, looking shocked until he got close enough to see the tears glimmering in their eyes. He stopped jarringly once he got that close, suddenly afraid they’d disappear like mist in the wind if he touched them.

“Are you guys really here?” he asked, voice shaking. The girls stared at him, Lex’s eyes roving up and down his body in panic while Hannah stared directly at his face, eyes wide and shiny. Then, all of a sudden Lex broke down, her face crumpling with gut-wrenching tears. Ethan inadvertently let out a wounded noise, reaching out for her.

“Ethan, you fucking died?” she sobbed.

“What?” he asked stupidly, then blinked and shook his head slightly, his worry about Lex overtaking his fear and current existential crisis. “I mean, yeah, I guess so, I think I got stabbed a while ago. But does that mean the two of you are dead?! Oh my God, are you two okay? How did you die?!” he asked rapid-fire, frantic. He finally got the guts to rest his hand on Lex’s arm and, to his staggering relief, she remained solid under his palm. Lex sobbed again, and released Hannah in order to wrap her arms tightly around Ethan’s waist and mash him into her, her face pressing into his chest and her tears soaking through his shirt. 

“I don’t know, dude, I think we got fucking nuked? Or hit by a meteor? I don’t know,” she cried. Ethan didn’t really know how to process the idea of fucking Hatchetfield getting nuked, so he shoved it to the back of his mind and focused instead on comforting his girlfriend. Hannah took a step back from them when Ethan curled around Lex, but neither of them noticed. Ethan wrapped an arm around his girlfriend’s back and brushed one hand gently through her hair, making soft, helpless noises at her.

“Hey, hey, babe, it’s okay!” he soothed, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head. Her grip tightened around him. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m alright. We’re all alright, okay? We’re all here together now. It’s alright,” he rambled, ducking his face down next to hers until she blinked her eyes open and sniffled, bringing her arm up to wipe away her tears with her sleeve. Unfortunately, Ethan had experience dealing with a crying Lex, though every time it occurred he fervently wished he’d never have to see her cry again, that she’d never be so sad again.

“You okay?” he murmured, rubbing his palms soothingly up and down her back, and she nodded shakily, taking a tiny step back and clinging onto his hand.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Good as I can be considering I’m dead, I ‘spose. What about you?”

“I’m, well… I’m a lot better now that you two are here,” he admitted, before turning to the other girl. 

Ethan tried to summon up a brave smile for Hannah, not wanting to alarm her any more than what had already been done.

“What about you, then?” he inquired, grasping for some sense of familiarity. “What’s shakin’, Banana?” He stepped forward slightly and raised his arms for a hug.

Hannah took a step back.

Ethan froze.

“Hannah?” he asked quietly, surprised.

“Bad,” Hannah whispered after a beat, watching him warily, though she sounded confused. Ethan’s arms lowered, hurt. He exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Lex, who looked startled.

“What do you mean, Banana?” he asked, going for a cheerful tone, though it sounded shaky even to his own ears.

“Saw you, on the balcony. Wanted Wiggly. Bad double,” Hannah said, arms wrapping around herself. Ethan frowned.

“What? I haven’t seen you since, uh, the Cineplex, bud,” he replied, frowning slightly. “Are you sure it was me?” Hannah paused at that, assessing him, her eyes flickering up and down him and a crease furrowing her brow.

“...No?” she said stiltedly, sounding more confused than ever. Then she tilted her head as though she was listening to someone, and refocused on Ethan. “Not you, not Ethan... a double? You are... the real Ethan?” she asked. Ethan cocked his head, frowning in concern, but slowly nodded;

“Yeah, Banana,” he assured. “I’m the real Ethan, you know me.” He hesitantly made to step forward, but when Hannah leaned away he immediately stopped and retreated. Lex was staring at them both, but Ethan kept his gaze on Hannah. “It’s alright, Hannah. You’re safe,” he soothed. 

He didn’t know what she’d seen after he died, but it had obviously scared her and it obviously had something to do with him. Maybe she’d seen his body or something? He didn’t know, maybe he’d ask later, but right now he just wanted to reassure her. He hated seeing that scared look in her eyes. He waited patiently for a minute, tense silence falling over the three of them. Then very, very slowly, Hannah reached out and snagged his leather jacket between his fingers. She rubbed the material for a moment then looked him directly in the eyes, something she rarely did. Her brown eyes searched his blue ones intently, looking for something like a lie or a hint of mania, but when she found nothing her expression crumpled, much like Lex’s had minutes before.

“Ethan,” she cried, and barreled into him with a fierce hug. He froze, stunned, but his shock barely lasted a moment and he wrapped his arms around her in return, squeezing her softly.

““Hey, Banana,” he smiled. “Good to see you.”

“Missed you,” she sniffed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, kiddo. I missed you too,” he sighed. Lex made an aw sound next to them, then wormed her way into the embrace. Ethan lifted an arm to box her in and pressed a kiss to her damp cheek. They stayed like that for a while, swaying together in their little group, and even though he was still surrounded by the vast White Ethan almost felt alive again.

“I love you guys,” he said softly, and they all separated slightly. It was an easy thing to say, in the face of death itself. He did love them, why bother hiding it? They already knew he loved them, of course, but he wanted to reiterate it. Lex smiled at him and leaned in for a soft kiss.

“We love you too, babe,” she said. He wrapped her in a side-hug and entwined his fingers with hers, while Hannah clung to Lex’s other hand, and they all stood in sombre, companionable silence for a bit. 

“What now?” Lex eventually asked. . “I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “I don’t even know where we are. When I pictured death, I never really imagined this.”

“We’re in the White,” Hannah informed them. When Ethan focused on her he noticed she looked remarkably well-adjusted for a 10-year old girl who’d just died and found herself in some kind of alternate dimension.

“Yeah?” Lex encouraged, and Ethan realised she didn’t seem to be questioning it all that much either.

God, he was so fucking confused.

“I wish we were in California,” he sighed mournfully. Lex squeezed his hand, and when he looked at her she mustered a small, forlorn smile.

“It was a good dream,” she said. He nodded, but didn’t know how to reply.

“California has beaches,” Hannah said. Ethan raised an eyebrow at her.

“It sure does,” Lex agreed. Hannah frowned.

“Webby says…” she paused, frowning, and then looked up at them, big eyes bright. “California,” she said, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Lex and Ethan shared a bewildered look, but after a moment of silent conversation something else caught Ethan’s eye.

A way in front of them, the White was steadily turning blue. A picturesque, postcard perfect blue. And it was moving, swelling, gently rising and falling. And then the ground directly beneath them began to shift and crunch under their feet, turning golden and grainy. The space above them turned periwinkle blue and fluffy, cottony clouds appeared out of thin air to dot the sky, perfectly shaped as though they were born straight from a child’s imagination. Far, far above them the sun slipped out from behind one of those clouds, yellow and warm in the most delicious way.

Lex tilted her face upwards and closed her eyes, letting the light play upon her skin, a delighted smile lifting her the corners of her mouth. Ethan admired his girlfriend for a moment, taking in how peaceful she looked before following her lead and tilting his face to the sky, letting his eyes slide shut.

A cool, gentle wind began to ruffle its way through his dark curls, bringing with it the tang of salt and the joyous cry of seabirds. The crash of waves gently pounding against the sand had him open his eyes again, and he looked out at the paradise that had just been created. The ocean stretched for miles, as far as his eye could see, before disappearing into the horizon where its cool blue blended seamlessly with the sky. He’d never seen the ocean in real life before. He shifted, looking down, and watched soft golden sand spill over the toes of his black boots. He blinked against the sea breeze and watched the sunlight glitter off the crystalline water, and without truly intending to, he smiled. 

Ethan looked down at Hannah, who was only just reopening her eyes, and watched the astonishment and delight fill her features as she took in the view. 

“It’s heaven,” Lex breathed to his left.

“California,” Hannah agreed, and Ethan laughed, tipping his head back.

“No,” he said sincerely, “It’s something even better.” He squeezed their hands happily, and they squeezed back. The three of them stood in a line, holding hands on the paradisaical beach made just for them, and watched the ocean sparkle cheerily for the first time in their lives. And, Ethan realised, it finally felt like a happy ending.

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are very appreciated <3

[hollowtreesinhollowwoods]

Something Not Quite Human: Taken in like Animals

“ “Stop, please! It’s not our enemy!”

“How can you know for sure? Just look at it! It’s a monster!” “A ‘monster’ that’s cowering and terrified, a ‘monster’ fearing for its life because you won’t just listen to me for once and put the weapon down! Do it! Put it down right now or I’ll – I’ll – !” “What?!” “I’ll make you.” “

Original Post for the prompt Here :)

also OP careful you may have just fueled my desire to get into a full-blown series ╰(*°▽°*)╯

—————

The creature thrashed once again in its bindings, injured wings flapping madly in an attempt to break free. Regan paused, then lowered her plasma rifle, narrowing her eyes at Griffin, who pointed a pistol in her direction. He kept it on her as he moved steadily towards the beast, slowly replacing it in his holster when he decided it was no longer needed.

The reptilian creature snorted at him, shrinking away. Its eyes glowed in warning, but Griffin could see it trembling. He licked his lips in thought, getting down on his knees in front of the beast. Its throat rumbled. “Hey bud... you’re alright... Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Griffin, I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not gonna be nice to you just because you’re nice to it.”

“Hush up,” he glanced back at her in warning. He turned back to the beast. “Alright bud... you gonna let me touch you?” He carefully bowed his head in wait. The beast snorted again, seeming to ease a bit. Griffin looked up with a smile. “There you go...” He inched closer, slowly reaching his hand out to it and stroking its head. It let out a low whine. The creature was losing blood fast, and there was no way they would earn its trust soon enough to get it fixed, so Griffin only did what he could.

Carefully, slowly, he slipped out a syringe from his pack and stuck it into the beast’s neck. It went into a panic, wings flapping again as it wriggled, though Griffin held its neck still as he injected the fluid. Then, only a second later, it slowed, easing back down to the ground. Its eyes fought to stay open, but inevitably fell closed in a moment. The beast let out a sigh, its breath coming slow and lazy.

“What now, hmm?” Regan asked, stepping forward. 

Griffin turned to her, his eyes glowing dangerously despite his calm expression. “You’re going to fix all the injuries you gave it.”

----------

Griffin had been sitting in the room all day. Regan kept trying to convince him that it was too risky, especially without having the creature bound, but he insisted he would be fine, and after agreeing to keep a plasma rifle with him, she calmed down.

He’d emptied all the shots beforehand, of course.

Perking up as the creature stirred in its huge pile of blankets and pillows, Griffin placed a hand on its back.

The creature’s eyes flicked open, and it went into another panic despite its exhaustion. Its claws flailed weakly and its wings flapped half-heartedly as it attempted to get up, but Griffin came and grabbed its head gently but firmly as the creature fought to get away.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright...” He said, though his words only served to make the creature more nervous. Griffin glanced back at the door, then took a deep breath, whispering to the creature in the language of the fae. “Calm down. I mean you no harm. If you struggle, you’ll open your injuries again.”

The creature started at their change in language as their struggling came to a halt. It looked into his eyes in confusion before reluctantly sinking down into its blankets again, sighing. Griffin smiled, stroking it gently on the head.

“What’s your name?” Griffin asked quietly. “Do you understand English? I would like not to be caught speaking fae. It’s not... accepted in this place.”

The beast grumbled, shaking its head slowly. It seemed not to want to speak with him, though. Perhaps because it was angry. It flared its wings out, but hissed in pain and pulled them right back.

“Your wings were broken before. I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent that. I have painkillers if the ones you had before are wearing off, but you need to be careful so you don’t hurt yourself without realizing.” Griffin said, pulling a pill bottle out of his coat pocket. The creature eyes them for a moment before opening their mouth. Griffin tossed a couple in, and the creature swallowed.

In a moment, its eyelids drooped, and its head sank into the pillows as Griffin stroked the top of its head.

“Mr. Allenby, please forfeit your weapons,” A voice spoke from the entrance. Griffin looked up, furrowing his eyebrows. Official-looking men stood in the doorway. He knew who they were --Hallow operatives-- but he never thought they would’ve come for him. 

“Sir, I assure you, this creature hasn’t and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless it was provoked. It’s completely safe--”

“Mr. Allenby, that was an order, not a request,” one said--General Maverick--as he stepped forward, raising a different weapon. This wasn’t the first time they’d met. A stun blaster. Not lethal, but a single blast would knock your average human out easily.

Griffin stood in front of the beast, which let out another, drowsier whine, nudging his back with its snout as if asking to be pet more. The creature was too loopy for him to get it out of here quickly. Griffin only hoped they’d listen to him, or that Regan would show up. But she would side with them, wouldn’t she?

“If you give me a chance, I will more than willingly prove to you that it’s completely safe--”

“If you do not surrender, I will be forced to fire, Allenby,” Maverick said, stepping forward.

“What are you going to do to it?” Griffin asked, standing his ground.

Maverick sighed, shaking his head, his expression disdainful. “This was bound to happen at some point, wasn’t it?” he said, pulling the trigger. 

When Griffin’s perception came back to him, he was on the ground. He let out a strained gasp--the blast had hit him in the gut--and two arms began dragging them across the floor.

“Let me...” he rasped at Maverick, his stomach twisting. He noticed them taking the creature captive in his peripheral. The beast whined in confusion. “...let us go.”

Maverick ignored him, cupping Griffin’s chin in his hands and gently brushing the hair behind one of his ears, smiling. He pulled away his upper lip, revealing the man’s abnormally sharp canines. “What are you, Griffin Allenby?” He asked with a faint smile of fascination. Griffin glared up at him, yanking his head away with a grunt.

“I can sue you, Maverick,” he spat as the man pulled his chin back, gripping it firmly.

“That’s General Maverick, Allenby,” Maverick blasted him again in the stomach, and Griffin suppressed a harsh wave of nausea, swallowing hard. “And I regret to inform you that the law applies to humans, not demons.”

“You can’t prove that I’m not--”

“Your ears and teeth are proof enough on their own, and I find it hard to believe that a simple researcher can speak fluent fae. Just because we don’t know what you are doesn’t mean you’re not different,” he said, his tone razor sharp.

Griffin glanced over to the beast, who seemed listlessly confused from all the chains they were wrapping it in, oblivious to the apparent threat around them. He grunted, trying to pull away from Maverick’s grasp, receiving a blast in the chest as a response as his lungs spasmed violently and he sucked in a labored, shuddering breath, white streaking his vision. Maverick gritted his teeth, moving the stunner up to his head. Griffin struggled, but he pressed it firmly down, the weapon humming as it prepared to fire. Maverick’s eyes glowed with lust.

“And believe me, one way or another, we’re going to find out.”

[sti1es]

Killing Stalking.... but make it steo. I read this manga in early 2017 and since its becoming popular again, i had the inspiration to write this. I don’t agree with a lot of the gross, disturbing stuff in the story - it’s a horror, not a romance, and i definitely don’t ship sangwoo and yoon. that’s why i changed a lot of the details in this fic, but the relationship in later chapters is going to get very, very, unhealthy. The abusive, toxic behaviours portrayed here should NEVER be considered okay in real life. SO MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THAT!

•

Stiles watches silently as Theo’s truck leaves the driveway. He emerges from his hiding place - a corner of the garden, cast in shadow by looming trees - and checks the time. Based on Theo’s usual routine, he should be gone for at least a couple hours. That gives Stiles abundant time to inspect the house. If the other boy is keeping anything secret, a thorough search should make it evident. Something about knowing Theo’s habits weirds Stiles out a little. He’s becoming quite the stalker. His intentions are good, though, and the police do it all the time, so he concludes that this is normal and not a result of incessant paranoia.

Casually, Stiles treads through neatly trimmed grass and stands in front of the door. It’s a decently sized home, the suburban dream for any nuclear family. Everything, down to the wooden planks of the porch and popcorn textured walls, is perfect - which is exactly why Stiles doesn’t trust it. Theo arrived like a miracle. A clever, charming, strong werewolf; the ideal pack mate. He’s buried his past deep underground, and Stiles is determined to uproot it.

He punches the security code into an electronic lock. 270804. At first, these were just meaningless numbers Stiles caught a glimpse of Theo entering, but after looking through medical records, researching family history, and overall obsessively indulging himself into this case, Stiles realised what it was. The date of Tara Raeken’s death.

Pushing aside whatever embarrassment would ensue if he were wrong about Theo, as well as the general fear of being caught, Stiles turns the door handle experimentally. The keypad chimes, a melodic buzz which enables Stiles to finally fucking breathe. He shoves the door open completely, a newfound rush of adrenaline and excitement clouding his mind, before entering the house.

It’s... normal. The entrance is decorated with antique furniature and various knickknacks. Picture frames line the walls, some depicting Theo and Tara, but none his whole family. The ones containing his parents look newer. Their smiles look strained, and Stiles could’ve sworn Ms. Raeken didn’t have dimples before. Him and Theo used to hang out after school a lot, and Ms. Raeken would always come pick her son up. The photos of her that adorn this interior just seem... different. Off. Before Stiles has the chance to contemplate any further, he’s distracted by a noise coming from downstairs. At the end of the hall, there’s a door - presumably leading to the basement - which has been left slightly ajar. A strange, muffled slapping sound travels through it.

Stiles’s heart beat spikes. He knew something was off about Theo, but to be presented something so obviously suspicious seems... well, suspicious. He quickly crosses the corridor and flicks on the light at the end of it. The basement is illuminated, which causes the slapping to increase. His stomach turns at the idea of something sentinent and scared being down there. Whatever shit Theo is hiding may be a lot more disturbing than he prepared for.

Swallowing nervously, Stiles decends the staircase and his worst fears are immediately confirmed. A girl lies on the cold floor, naked and tied up. Her wrists and ankles are bound, and a gag has been painfully jammed into her mouth. The source of the slapping was her legs beating against the concrete, most likely a frantic signal for a potential rescuer’s attention.

This has to be a joke. There’s no way Theo is this fucking sick. To kidnap someone is one thing, but to humilate them and leave them in this scared state was a level of cruelty Stiles finds difficult to imagine. He races downwards, and instantly recognises the terrified captive’s face. This is Tracy Stewart. Her photos have been plastered all over the news ever since she went missing a couple weeks ago. Stiles feels his gut twist in horror and disgust. There’s no goddamn way this is happening. It’s ironic, really, the fact that he was expecting to find something incriminating but can hardly believe it when he does.

Tracy’s struggles become even more desperate at this glimpse of salvation. Her eyes widen, and she starts shouting through the gag.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry... I-I’m gonna get you out of here. You’re safe,” Stiles begins to undo the ropes which restrain her hands, but the knot won’t give. Why the hell did Theo have to be so cautious? The thought of what he’s done to poor Tracy so far turns Stiles’s attempts to free her even more rapid. He picks at the rope with his nails, a fruitless attempt, really. As his frustration rises, he resorts to picking Tracy up in the state she’s in. He’d much rather get the hell out of here as fast as possible. Stiles places his hand under her knees, and goes to wrap his arm around her shoulders, when she starts to violently trash. He drops her instantly, worried that he provoked one of her potential injuries. But the thrashing continues, and she’s screaming around the cloth in her mouth. Stiles’s heart sinks as he realises her eyes aren’t focused on him.

They’re fixed behind his head.

He jerks around wildly, and sure enough, standing in the doorway is Theo Raeken. His eyes are narrowed in annoyance and his lips are quirked in a dark smirk. Fuck. Stiles feels like a caged animal, cornered by a predator that could easily overpower him.

“You’re smart, Stiles,” He chuckles, like this is all a twisted game. To Theo, it probably is. “You just aren’t smarter than me”.

Shit. Stiles’s mind is moving at a mile a minute, trying to think of any possible escape. There isn’t one. But he’s been through worse than a teenage werewolf. He can get through this. He has to.

Still, his heart is gripped by fear. He feels like there’s fingers at his neck, squeezing, constricting his oxygen until he’s gasping for breath. Breathe. Breathe. He stands no chance against Theo if he has a panic attack.

Then again, does he stand a chance in the first place?

Theo dawdles down the stairs, slowly dropping his feet in front of him, one step after another. Stiles’s lungs are on fire. His ribs are being crushed. Breathe. Breathe. You can trick him. Run past him. Just get a fucking grip.

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice-” Theo’s barely ten feet away, “That you’ve been following me?” He laughs humourlessly once again. “It’s funny how I considered stalking you, but you took it upon yourself to waltz right into the lion’s den with no help.”

Stiles barely register’s Theo’s words as the human lunges forward, past his legs. Caught off guard, Theo doesn’t have time to grab him as he practically scrambles up the stairs. But of-fucking-course Stiles has to look back, and when his eyes meet Tracy’s, he freezes to the spot. He can’t just leave her here.

That gives Theo’s reflexes ample time to set in. He makes a grab for Stiles’s hoodie sleeve and shoves him backwards. The brunet would’ve been grappling at the air if he had time to. Instead, he simply falls all the way down the stairs, back to the basement floor. Instead of everything occurring in the typical slow-mo montage they show in cliche movies, the moment passed so fast Stiles couldn’t even register it. One second he was almost free, the next he was lying on hard, cold stone, his head and legs throbbing. The human supposes he broke his legs. They’re mostly numb, but twisted grotesquely. He’s never been so thankful about nerve damage in his life. The real issue is his slowly blurring vision. He wants to throw up - from fear or pain, he doesn’t know.

“You’re the sheriff’s son,” Theo drawls, stupidly calm for a situation where Stiles feels as though he’s being drowned in anxiety. “So you surely understand why I can’t have any witnesses.”

“Why are you doing this?” He blurts out. “You’re killing her, and you’re gonna kill me too? At least have some sort of motive, serial murderers who ‘do it for the thrill’ are becoming pretty old.”

If there’s one thing Stiles learnt during his years of engtanglement with supernatural enemies, it’s that distraction buys you time. No matter how scared you are, a simple quip or provoking remark works wonders for stalling. All he has to do is snark Theo until the werewolf gets bored, or agitated, or anything else that buys him a bit of time. Stiles’s heart jumps against his ribcage as he glares at Theo as heatedly as possible, trying to conceal his trembling hands.

“You think I don’t have any motives?” Theo scoffs, clearly falling for Stiles’s blow to his ego. “Her father is a pretty powerful man. A lawyer who tried to get me thrown in fucking prison. This is his payback,” The werewolf shrugs, but Stiles doesn’t miss the edge of anger in his voice. He strides forward, then curls a hand around Stiles’s chin. The teen’s head is jerked upwards, so he’s forced to stare into cold, evil blue eyes. “And you’re going to rat me out to your daddy. Simple as that. There isn’t enough space in this basement for both of you.”

“So you’re a butthurt little boy who has to take his emotions out on defenesless humans?” Stiles grits out, and Theo’s grip on his chin tightens, “- real classy.”

That’s when Theo snaps. He backhands him across the faсe.

Stiles attempts to crawl away, his cheek stinging with what’s probably a fresh bruise. He pushes up against the ground, only to find that his knees buckle when he stands. So he was right about the broken legs. Normally, falling down the stairs wouldn’t injure someone this badly, but with the forceful thrust of a werewolf’s supernatural strength? Stiles doesn’t doubt it. Though his limbs are far too damaged to hurt, the mere pressure being put onto his bones makes him feel like he’s folding in on himself.

Stiles is helpless. He might as well be restrained like Tracy, it wouldn’t make a difference. Theo sighs in a way that conveys amusement, as though he’s watching a newborn deer struggle to walk. I’m gonna die.

What will his dad think when he doesn’t return home? What will his friends think? Scott, Malia, Lydia - Stiles will never see them again. His chest aches with the thought of Theo carrying through with whatever plans he has for the pack. All he can do is hope that his disappearance makes them suspicious enough not to trust the werewolf.

Theo hovers over him, face darkened by shadows in a threatening contrast against the blaring ceiling lights above. He crouches down, pressing his knees deliberately against Stiles’s legs in a way that makes the human cry out. He catches a glimpse of Tracy: she has tears running down her face, but looks somewhat resigned... as if Stiles is already dead. Theo clutches the brunet’s wrists and pins them to either side of his head. “If you’re planning on killing me, better do it quick. You wouldn’t want to be late for school,” the image of Theo’s charming smile, forever deceiving, lingers in his mind’s eye. A wave of annoyance washes over him, and he kicks upwards with the last of his rapidly draining perseverance. Theo doesn’t even budge.

The werewolf leans down, his breath ghosting over Stiles’s ear. “Kill you? Honestly, when this is over, you’ll be wishing I did.”

Everything goes black, but before he loses consciousness, Stiles is sure he caught a glimpse of a silver metal hammer.

[moipale]

DP Side Hoes Week Day 7: Cujo/Reveal

her son, knelt beside a ghost ; ao3 link

The ghost dog is a well-known specter among Amity Park’s ghost hunters. It has personally invaded Maddie’s lab time and time enough for her to recognize its ectosignature in her radars, and the Red Huntress has been observed to treat it with particular violence.

Despite how much of a nuisance it is, the dog is not a particularly dangerous ghost. Maddie and Jack can contain it relatively easily, and it responds to a fair amount of the commands living dogs do. To be fair, it doesn’t always obey those commands, but it doesn’t outright ignore them, which is a step further than they’ve gotten with most other ghosts.

No, the ghost dog would be more of a pest than a threat, and as such a target for destruction or dissection, were it not for one factor: that it seems particularly attached to Phantom.

When provoked, the ghost dog can be truly formidable. What kind of destruction might it reap, were Phantom to command it? How many lives might it take before she and Jack could contain it? Aside from the potential dangers, if she and Jack were to dispose of the dog, what might they lose in regards to Phantom?

It’s rare to catch the ghost boy in one place for very long, but the few times he’s been spotted engaging with the dog have been the longest he’s stayed in one area to date. Neither Maddie or Jack forsook those opportunities. First, they attempted to catch him. When that proved fruitless, they took to observation, and what a gold mine such an endeavor begot.

Danny Phantom, in his moments spent with the ghost dog, does not display the same territorial, threatening behavior he does when in combat with other invading ghosts. Rather, he regards the dog with an apparent fondness similar to that of a human with their pet. He plays fetch with it. It’s baffling, and a research opportunity like no other.

Maddie has countless pages of data, extrapolations, and theories as to the relationships between ghosts. She has analyses that factor in volatility, goals, obsession, the differences between humanoid and animalistic ghosts and their relationships with and between each other, what factors are conducive to a relationship, what factors detract from one. Most of it is hypothesis. Aside from the occasional ghostly team-ups, which are admittedly short-lived and based upon hostile intention, Phantom is the only sapient ghost on record to have been observed positively interacting with another ghost.

The phone rings upstairs. Maddie starts, her tunnel vision clearing—she’d been focusing too diligently on her stacks of notes. A glance at the clock tells her its been much longer than she’d realized that she was sitting there, scouring every detail, searching for a new piece of evidence to tie her hypotheses together.

Across the room, Jack starts to get up, but Maddie stops him with a wave of her hand. “I’ll get it,” she offers, already heading for the stairs. “I need a break.”

She picks it up on the last ring, and is treated to the familiar tones of the Casper High School secretary, whose voice trembles in that way it always does when he’s calling about ghost-related troubles. It doesn’t tremble quite enough for the incident to be very serious, though, and Maddie bites back a sigh. At least it isn’t another Danny issue.

He stutters out a harried explanation: the ghost dog has taken over the gym, and is preventing Ms. Tetslaff from teaching. How fitting, Maddie thinks, and she cuts off the man’s nervous ramblings. “Of course. We’ll be there right away to take care of it. Don’t worry.”

All it takes is a quick call of, “Jack, there’s a ghost at the high school!” for her husband to come running up, weapons already in hand. She smiles at him—his enthusiasm has never stopped being endearing—and matches his pace as he heads for the door.

——————

When they get there, they’re redirected in short order to the school gym, which reeks of ghoul before they get anywhere near it. Maddie’s sensors pick it up immediately, though she looks at them in confusion before turning to the secretary, who leads them nervously toward the doors.

“I thought you said only the ghost dog was here? I’m picking up two ghosts.” At that, the man seems to shrivel even further, his anxiety mounting.

“That’s what I was told, ma’am,” he squeaks out, and then gestures to the doors, which have loomed up before them. A flimsy barricade has been erected, which would prove as absolutely no obstacle to a ghost, but which probably made the school officials feel better. Maddie doesn’t comment on it.

“Well, we can take it from here. Thank you for escorting us,” she says firmly, and he takes the dismissal to heart, retreating so swiftly he almost jogs back the way they came.

Without further ado, Jack scatters the barrier—made up of mostly chairs and desks—before slamming the doors open, barging into the gym, Maddie following quickly behind.

She gets an answer to her question immediately. Standing before them in the center of the gym, and interfering with their equipment as usual, is Danny. Around him runs the ghost dog, circling him and yipping happily. Danny’s clearly noticed their entrance—he gives his father a little wave, makes eye contact with her—but he doesn’t seem concerned at their presence, nor does he run to them for protection. He doesn’t even seem scared, which, for a boy who’s notoriously terrified of ghosts, is huge. Maddie has to squash her pride as the mother in her threatens to overwhelm the scientist.

That said, Danny is standing next to a dangerous spectral entity, and so the moment she collects herself, she calls out, “Danny, dear, get away from that ectoplasmic scum!” She strides forward, removing a Fenton Blaster from her belt as she does, aiming for the dog.

“Mom, wait!” Danny protests. She wouldn’t have stopped, but the dog finally notices her, yips, and skitters behind Danny’s legs, cowering. “Come on, he’s not going to hurt you. Cujo’s just a dog!”

“Cujo?” Maddie questions, looking sharply at her son.

“That’s his name. Look, it’s on his collar.” Danny kneels next to the dog and reaches for it. Maddie tenses, her finger on the trigger, but the dog sits pretty, letting Danny pull it forward to show off the tag on its collar.

On the front is, curiously, the logo for Axion Labs. On the back, etched in neat letting, is the name Cujo, though the validity of what Danny said is the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. No, the important detail here is that Danny—her son, who is terrified of ghosts and wants nothing to do with the family business—is comfortable enough with this dog that he can tell her with complete confidence not to attack it. Not only that, but the fact that he knows its name tells her he’s been around it before, most possibly on multiple occasions—and he hadn’t breathed a word of it to her or Jack.

“Danny-boy, don’t touch it! It’ll contaminate you!” Jack levels a gun far larger than necessary at both Danny and the ghost dog. “Stay still, pal, I’ll get it!”

Danny’s eyes widen. Before Jack can do anything, however, Maddie reaches out and pushes the barrel of the gun up, so the shot fires high, missing Danny and… Cujo entirely.

“Hold on, dear. It hasn’t attacked yet,” she says, placating her husband. Danny shoots her a grateful look, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. It hits her, suddenly, how little she’s seen her son these past few years. This one small, tentative smile seems monumental, laid before her so simply. How long has it been since she’d listened to Danny when he asked her to back down?

How long has it been since they’ve talked, without a ghost standing between them?

“Guys, really,” Danny says, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Cujo’s just a dog. If I ask, he’ll go back to the Ghost Zone.” He says it casually, but Maddie snaps to attention. Danny didn’t say, “if we ask,” or “if you ask.” He said “if I ask,” like the dog has some attachment to him. Like Cujo is his.

“Look,” Danny says, and she watches him walk over to the side of the gym where an equipment cart is parked. From it, he pulls a softball. Cujo still sits where Danny had left it, but perks up when he raises the ball. “Go, fetch!” Danny calls, tossing the ball towards the other end of the gym. It soars over Cujo’s head, and the little ghost yips and tears after it, claws clicking on the gym floor.

As Maddie watches Danny watch the ghost, she sees how relaxed his shoulders are, the soft smile playing on his lips. He looks at Cujo with fondness, the picture of a boy and his dog. A human and their pet.

For all her focus has been on her ghost hunting, how has she missed her son growing up? How has she not noticed the way he’s grown into his body: lean muscle, comfortable slouch, a confident set to his shoulders. The last she’d looked, really looked, he’d seemed so small and meek.

How long has she observed Danny Phantom, studying that same figure?

Her arm droops by her side, gun pointed uselessly at the floor. She feels boneless, all of a sudden, watching her son walk calmly across the gym floor, ready to meet the ghost dog as it careens back toward him, softball held awkwardly in its tiny mouth. Danny and Danny. Fenton and Phantom. A boy and his dog.

Against the light of the late afternoon sun, streaming in from one of the far windows, Danny’s hair is lit up like a beacon. Haloed, it appears almost white.

How many times has she caught his eye in the darkness and thought she saw a hint of green?

Danny grunts as Cujo jumps at his chest, but he catches the little dog, prying the softball from its mouth with some difficulty. “Hah, give that to me, you little rascal,” he says, talking to it with the same tone of voice Maddie’s father used to talk to her childhood dog with.

Her son, knelt beside a ghost, playing with it.

Fondness. A human and their pet.

Confident set to his shoulders.

“Okay, boy. Time to go home.” The wag of Cujo’s tail slows a little. “Yeah. Go on home, buddy.” He makes a little shooing motion with his hands, and, though the dog looks disappointed, it turns tail and goes.

And Maddie lets it.

[farzeenx234]

Digital life stories final

I remember it was June 12, 2012. As I got off the stairs of my plane, I knew my life would never be the same. New challenges were waiting ahead of me and I had to confront them. The difficult thing about moving to a new culture is that a lot of people would feel fear because they are so used to their own culture. So, now they leave what they are used to for a new way and it will be hard for them to adapt. Some may like the new food and the pace of life, then later on in the month people may feel like the new life and culture is unpleasant life. For instance: public hygiene, the language barriers, traffic safety, and food accessibility. Feeling lonely, hopeless or overwhelmed at such an enormous life change. People leave their home countries for various reasons, to escape as a refugee, or immigrate for a change in life. As easy as it seems to be there are so many roadblocks along the way. I was born and raised in Pakistan, my home country. Growing up I was very outgoing, confident, and had a relaxed outlook on life. I was always satisfied and content with my life. That was before my mom married my step dad, and then we were on our way to New York. I could only describe my feelings in one word -- apprehensive. A long and tedious 17-hour flight was ahead of me. I sat restlessly in my seat with a blanket on. My naivety allowed me to think that that blanket was more of a shield rather than a cloth to protect me from the cold. It was a shield that blurred my future and comforted me temporarily. I had no idea what I was going to be. The fact that moving to new country hunts me till this day. Trying to figure out who I was going to be as a person . Deep within I knew that I was scared; But I remember my mom words that we are moving for a better life. I was leaving all my friends, my family, and in a way my life behind. I had to start my life over again. Not only did I have to live a new life I had to conquer it. The moment I stepped out of my plane and into a fresh territory I transformed, mentally and emotionally. I went from being a social extrovert person to a very quiet and shy girl. I had spent 12 years of my life building my character, my personality, all of me. I did not understand why I was expected to change myself. Looking back I could blame it on the confusion, the pressure I put on myself during such a tender age. I had to learn a new language, culture and blend myself with other people, which at that moment I thought was necessary to do so. My mom admitted me into a middle school. The first day of school was the most terrifying moment of my life. I walked in with an anxious expression and for some peculiar reason was ready to be humiliated as if being from somewhere else was so bad. As I went to my first class, I vividly remember feeling like I needed to do something to gain attention and have everyone like me. Under the pressure of blending in, I became the polar opposite of who I truly am. I knew I had to start a new chapter in my life. My first year of going to school in U.S the biggest struggle I had was getting bullied. Though bullying does not seem to connect to school in a related to school and learning sense, bullying in schools causes a lot of negative body-structure-related effects that change how a student will perform in school and the opinions they will form about schools and other American institutions. Many existing school policies, like the structure of English Language Learning classes as being subtractive relating to viewing foreign languages as an interference for related to people who enter a country and related to social pressure, how people act toward each other, etc. normal behaviors and prejudiced mental pictures make schools unsafe for immigrants and children of immigrants youth. This problem comes from gener all good people in the world), instead of being a direct result of education, which makes finding appropriate ways to reduce bullying in schools or handling migrants child bullying situation complex.

hough there is the existence of being one of the most important causing people or animals to interact with others so they're more friendly institutions for youth in America, schools seem to fail at helping appreciation and acceptance of differences present in students. Research shows “ within the last decade, minority groups have surpassed the American mainstream, which has classically been considered to be American-born, White middle class, in the K-12 age bracket of the population. Currently, minority students make up more than half of the school-aged population (Calderón, Slavin and Sánchez 2011) and approximately twenty percent of the youth population are immigrants or children of immigrants (Pumariega and Rothe 2010.) Out of immigrants and children of immigrants, a majority of these students are Hispanic, specifically of Mexican descent, and of Asian descent According to another research published online on March1, 2012 in the Journal of Adolescent Health: Children born outside America, or born into immigrant families, are more likely to become victims of bullying as compared with kids born in the US.Kids born outside the US were more likely to be the victims of bullying rather than being the perpetrators. In addition, Fairfax County Youth Survey School Year 2010-11 data showed that:49% of teens reported that they were called bad names on the basis of their race and culture.Meanwhile, 43% reported that at some point they had targeted a peer on the basis of race and ethnicity.”

Bullying made me something I was not I did not know any English at all and that made me feel excluded as if I did not belong here. One day, when I was in my english class, the teacher made groups of people and had us discuss about how the story we were reading . In my group, there were three Americans and me; for a few minutes I felt I had fit in the group. But when they would not even let me talk, I realized I did not feel included and little by little they completely forgot I was part of the group. There are many children that are born in different countries or move to a different countries and have two cultures, everyday they have to live their lives feeling like they do not belong to a community or even to the only country they know. I made a ton of new friends, but with the wrong intentions. I wanted to have as many friends as I could so I would be popular, a term that I now have found a new meaning for. Making those friends still haunts to how bad I turned out to be. As I got closer to graduation, I reflected on what I had become -- a bogus, arrogant, and ignorant person. I knew that these qualities were not the ones I wanted to embrace. I knew I had to do something so there could be a little authenticity left in me. I knew I had to start a new chapter in my life. Once my high school years began, I made more friends with the same wrong intentions. As I was making more friends, I stumbled upon a girl named Sara, I watched how she handled her life. I saw how she embraced her unique self. Watching her grow into the kind of person that I wanted to be deeply influenced me. That was who I wanted to become. Once again, I transformed myself. But this time it was in a positive way, I became friends with people who liked me for who I was. I was still popular, but this time, I was popular within the small group of friends I had. This time, I had people around me that actually cared about me. This time, I had people around me that wanted the best for me. My brother sometimes asks me if I regret my days in middle school and my response is always no. My experience allowed me to become who I am today. Now that I am reflecting on what I have become: understanding, caring and once again content with my life. Also working on my passion my childhood dream.When I was 15 years old, one year before I graduated from high school, my mom talked to me about what they thought would be best for me to study. she said that good careers were Doctor or Lawyer; I did not give an answer about what I wanted to study that day. However, while I was at school the next day, I thought that maybe that becoming a doctor or lawyer was something I have to study because I did not want her to get upset Studying these types of careers would most likely take me eight to ten years, and I did not want to attend college for that long. One day talked to my mom, and I told her that I would love to become a doctor or even a lawyer, but I want to fulfill my childhood dream. Ever since I was little, I wanted to be called Ma’am or Miss. Growing up in Pakistan made me see the lack of motivation and passion people had for education. Along with that, I also saw how undermined girls were in every aspect. They were forced to stay home and deal with chores. Fortunately, I was born in a family that was open-minded. Though a single mother, my mom always allowed me to fulfill my passion to its full potential. Due to my mother’s passion for education I built a vision for my future. I had always wanted to be a teacher. Differences between how girls were subjected to be a house-wife and boys were expected to be an engineer or a doctor provoked me and made me extremely passionate about teaching.n I wanted to teach people that, though physically different, there is not much difference between how capable boys and girls are.

I still have the vivid visual in my mind: a six year old with a chalk in her hand teaching an imaginary class of 20 students. I knew each and everyone of their names, I knew their strengths, their weaknesses and how to bring out the best. One of my imaginary students was always motivated by the idea of a lavish lifestyle. I told him that he could obtain this by studying hard. In my mind, still to this day, the idea that anything can be gained by studying hard is stuck.

My younger sister would always try and copy me. She would make up her own imaginary class and teach them. We would argue about who is the better teacher and who had more students. Though, at first, watching her teach her own class angered me because it was ‘my thing’. After some time went on, I was rathered motivated by her-she made me realize that if I could ignite a passion for education in her, I could do it for others as well.

The dust that fell from the chalk in the hands of a younger, and still in progress of being Ms. Fatima, though it's gone for now, comes out in the form of motivation when I am feeling down. The remembrance of how I was needed to change the lives of 20 imaginary kids never fails to motivate me to study harder so I could help more lives.Many times parents need to understand what their adolescents want to pursue as a career. It is about what their child wants to do for the rest of her life, not about what the parents want their children to do or study. My experience allowed me to become who I am today. Now that I am reflecting on what I have become: understanding, caring and once again content with my life. Also working on my passion my childhood dream.