#would she do completely unhinged things just for a laugh or is there a limit to the meaness?

[ultravioart]

????

So I'm trying to write out some ideas for Dominion au scenes and I guess I'm questioning what kind of humor fits Dominator? She's definitely comically evil + mean spirited so there is dark humor galore (Plus with kid cosmic using death as a punchline, lmafo it makes for some dark opportunity),

but if.... sighes, If the writers really were trying to go for the "she doesn't belong in the show" anime-op-badass "sexy bully"(<<<gags I hate this approach i hate sexy bully) archetype, I have to wonder if she's conscious of herself in situations or not. In Q&A they say she loves riot grrl but she's also fine with using a guy persona to "mess with people"?? Mess with them how? Make them double take and awkwardly scramble to treat her differently? Or make them not judge her as a (gender) but as a badass foe first and foremost regardless, and being a woman is just the cherry on top? I have to wonder if her love for the riot grrl genre includes the fundamental girl empowerment (proud to be a girl), or the "don't judge me just because I am a girl! I belong here too!" aspect. Is her perspective that she is proud to be a badass woman, or does she feel she's a badass who happens to be woman therefore women must be great? She seems to use whatever tools she has at her disposal, but also has a comedic self care routine of fluffy towels and pink guest bathrooms. So she's all out evil villain, but also has sensitivities and seemingly personal boundaries with "me-time" which doesn't read entirely as the all out off the wall destroyer, but a quirky lethal evil conqueror. It matters because like, would she be a "sexy" bully that has personal boundaries over her body, or is it all in, make the others squirm and yelp? Is she vulgar and unhinged? or does she have some kind of pride that would prevent her from "degrading" her self in her view by flirting with people she sees as losers? We have characters that have a sense of pride or a sense of boundary, which can make for good kind spirited humor too, but if Dominator really doesn't belong, it's hard to discern just how far her actions would go. basically it's one of the two: A) she embodies the "intensely evil little girl" all grown up into a fearsome villainess, playing godzilla with living toys. This is within the same vein to Hater's "spoiled brat emo prince" all grown up into a manchild rockstar tyrant personality. This means she would have some personal boundaries and sense of pride, meaning she would toy with others (flirting, teasing) but not be intensely vulgar. Fits the setting of WoY pretty well, though? Is... being pretty and mean enough to be a sexy bully archetype? Ugh Man, I hate this trope lmao. It feels gross. B) She embodies the "evil no matter what" and just happens to be a woman. she relishes in bullying others and making them squirm, wanting to destroy everything in her path. She's super unhinged and even self-destructive if not careful. No sense of sympathy for others, she just. wants. to. destroy. those puny little faces. (Cute aggression over 9,000!) And it's bleak! Yeah! ...and, lonely. Woops. This means she would be very vulgar, and not care what people think about her or her body because of course she's already perfect, she's HER. This to me reads as more so the sexy bully archetype, but ignores some semblance of her softer sides like her "...friend?" moments with Sylvia or her funny reactions to things like "what? Ew--no." which imply personal boundaries. I'm writing a whole damn essay about this because I don't want to make her too vulgar if it's ooc. But... it's seriously hard to understand what the hell the writers even meant by "sexy bully" because is that just a hot mean girl? Or a get under your skin and twist the knife just "to break your heart and watch you cry" kinda thing??? HOW FAR DOES IT GO, idk idk. Frankly I wish canon Dominator was not fanservice sultry and only sporadically "maniac pixie nightmare girl" like the VA's videos implied, because that stuff was hysterically fitting for WoY. Unhinged and unfitting of the WoY universe, but in a light goofy turning instantly heavy and dark humored way.

[mrhowells]

Smallville 4x18

✨genius✨

why do I suddenly miss Pete :(

"So who is Smallville's most eligible bachelor taking to prom?"

LOIS. HE'S TAKING LOIS TO PROM.

"The thing about expectations, Clark, is they're supposed to drive you to do more with your life, not stop you from living it."

Chloe making points

"thanks mom and dad for everything" THAT'S ADORABLE🥹🥹🥹

sjskjsksjk

girl, you're literally in his mom's body💀

STAHP

SOOOOO THIS IS YOUR LITTLE SECRET. YOU'RE TAKING HER TO THE PROM AREN'T YOU

I'm screaming

Clark is such a fucking clown I CANNOT

why does he look so offended when he was literally also laughing the idea off two seconds ago, I'm-

his brain needs to be studied bc what was the thought process, I just don't understand😭

"So you two just get together and mack but keep it on the down low in public?" "MOM!"

I'M JUST SUPER PUMPED ABOUT PROM

She was so mean to Lana for literally no reason😭 Jealousy is a disease get well soon xo

Jason is unhinged💀

"A dog's life depends on it."

LMAOOOO I love her

"Clark, things don't always end up the way you picture them but sometimes they can end up even better if you give them a chance."

Martha is playing for the clois team always and I respect that🫡

akssaskxjask

he was malfunctioning💀

also Dawn has zero sense of style, wtf is this😭

*aggressive blinking and gulping* GET IT TOGETHER CLARK I THOUGHT YOU COULDN'T STAND HERRRR

he looks so scared I can't-

HOLD ON when did Jason start working with his mom??? Does my brain have holes again bc I'm confused, he just did a sudden 180 it feels like?

The fact that Lois doesn't look like a complete clown in that horrible dress? Face card 100/10

"Remember all those regrets that we were talking about? I think not seeing you with a crown on your head would be the top of the list."

they really don't have enough of these wholesome friendship moments🥹🥹🥹

Why is possessed Lois so funny help😭

I CAN'T BREATHESKASK

"A little close to the boob, don't you think?"

my head hurts from laughing😭

THE CROWN'S MINE, BITCH

GENIUS

this is the peak of television i don't care

Lois' superpower is she gets Clark to stop brooding, bless her

"I was thinking, since you did get all dressed up and you came here with me, you should at least get a dance out of it."

The writers were so mean for this😭

Lana ditching Jason & coming alone, good for her😌

PAIN

It's not about unrequited love because she doesn't have a crush on Clark or anything at this point, it's just painful to see her so resigned to the fact that she's never anyone's priority.

anyways, now I'm emotional😭

"You know, Lois, I think Clark might have a lot more to offer than you realize." "I wouldn't bet on it."

Martha & Jonathan being cute🥰

Jason lurking & looking jealous🤡

You know the episode is entertaining when I hit the photo upload limit😌

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

For each member of the Cullens, what do you think it would take for them to realize the extent of how unhinged Edward is and what do you think they would do about it, if anything?

Well, we’re going dark places today, aren’t we?

Alice

Alice is already fully aware of what Edward is, she simply doesn’t care.

There are visions that Alice misses, Edward thinks Alice misses the vast majority of Biology due to being hyper focused on Jasper (and likely missed the school massacre that Edward was seriously planning) but there is a lot she doesn’t miss.

Every time Edward thinks about how great it’d be to smash Mike Newton’s head like a watermelon, every time he considers devouring Bella, every time he enters her room unannounced to stare at her while she sleeps unawares, the time Edward considers genocide of the Quileute Tribe because of Jake’s telling Bella a story he doesn’t even believe, Alice knows.

It changes nothing for her.

She roots for Edward and Bella’s relationship, not because she knows for a certainty it will work out, but because it might. And that slim might, where Bella Swan might survive and become Edward’s lover as well as her own Barbie is worth everything they put Bella through to get there.

Also damningly, Alice cares very little for how good Edward is for Bella just as she cares very little for Bella period. Bella is Alice’s excuse to party and a dress up toy, but Alice will cut contact with her to a) please Edward b) prove a point to Edward.

Worse, Alice will take Bella to Italy, a city where she knows Bella will be killed with a 90% chance upon entry, on the slim chance that they might prevent Edward’s suicide. Yes, she vaguely explains the risk Bella’s taking, but she doesn’t say it in clear terms nor does she waste much time arguing.

Edward is far more important to Alice than Bella.

What I’m getting at is, thanks to her gift, Alice is intimately aware of just what Edward is capable of. She doesn’t care. And yes, there’s something to be said that Edward, more often than not, does not act upon these futures and he shouldn’t be condemned for choices he does not make. However, he does make some of them, and Alice knows.

There’s nothing I think Edward could do to either inform her that she was gravely wrong in how she perceived him or drive her away. Alice would be disappointed he’s thrown the family into such disarray but most likely would try to steer him away from whatever choice would cause such a rift.

She would aid, abet, and enable him because that is what will keep the Cullens together. Which is something Alice very much wants.

Carlisle

Carlisle lives in a river in Egypt, the water is made of double think. There are strong hints that Carlisle’s family is not quite as gung ho or altruistic about the diet as he is. Instead of being appalled, Carlisle quietly lowers his standards, and gives enthusiastic applause when Edward does things like choose not to brutally murder the serial rapist who nearly raped Bella. This is big growth for Edward! He also takes measures like sending family members who have accidents to their victims funeral, in the hopes that something, maybe, might make them see humans as people worthy of life.

If you asked him though, he’d talk about how amazing his family and the Denali are for the diet, and how he’s so proud to be a part of this community that values human life. LOOK HOW MUCH THEY VALUE IT.

When it comes to Edward, I think Edward holds a special place in Carlisle’s heart. He was not only the first person he turned, but Edward left and came back, to Carlisle this signaled that he’d found meaning and purpose in preserving human life. More, Edward... is very good at hiding what he is and is desperate that Carlisle above all others never see it.

Rather than have a conscience, most of the time, what stops Edward from ���you name horrific action” of the day is the thought of “What would Carlisle say?” 

My point being, from the outside, especially to Carlisle, Edward truly does look like a noble soul. There are... flags, but they’re easily ignored or written off as issues with Edward’s emotional maturity.

Where Carlisle starts getting concerned is with Bella. Edward leaves for Alaska, great, Carlisle’s proud he was able to make that decision and know his limits. ThEn EdWArd CoMeS BaCK.

Edward comes back, in a week, nothing has changed, and he refuses to leave. Carlisle talks to him, Edward’s thinking he’s better than Hamburger and he can’t let her win, what he actually says to Carlisle is something along the lines of “I can’t run from my fears” Carlisle does an upside down smiley face then says, “Yes, you can, please do” And Edward doesn’t.

Things with Edward and this girl get progressively weird, but Carlisle is very proud that Edward sees the value of human life and not murdering a girl for being nearly hit by a van (this is how low Carlisle’s standards have become), and then Alice goes, “Oh, by the way, Edward is in love with this girl!”

Carlisle just sits there, “Alright then” and quietly puts aside his dreams of moving to a town where Edward doesn’t eat Bella Swan.

But I’m getting off track, this isn’t about canon where Carlisle can explain Edward’s actions away as noble but extreme, emotionally immature, and misguided.

Eating Bella’s not enough. Carlisle will see this as a tragic accident, something he foresaw, but something he assumes will haunt Edward for eternity. And, as it will haunt Edward for eternity (though not for the reasons Carlisle assumes) there will be nothing to make Carlisle question Edward’s character. He was young and foolish to think his limits were endless, but this was a tragic accident.

And it’s something, that in canon, Carlisle is hoping won’t happen but expects with helplessness.

I think there are a number of things that could do it. Had Edward eaten Biology, had he decided to defy Volturi law by eating Saint Marcus’ Square, but staying closer to the realm of possibility...

Had Edward forcibly aborted Bella, murdering her and her child in the process, or else if Renesmee didn’t have her gift, and Edward murdered her after her birth (assuming Jake didn’t get to it first).

Those actions cannot be excused away nor cannot be seen as tragic accidents. They are premeditated and evil, and yes evil is a strong word, yet here we are. This is Carlisle staring in the face of madness.

And that’s what it will take.

If Edward cheats on Bella, then while Carlisle is sad and disappointed, affairs happen and passion fades. More, Edward and Bella married awfully young and barely knew each other, this perhaps isn’t surprising.

If Edward eats a human Bella on the day she’s supposed to be turned, in very suspicious circumstances right at the last minute. Carlisle will know, deep down, but never allow himself to believe it. He’ll think Edward is utterly devestated and had let his guard down on that last day in anticipation of Bella’s turning.

This though, there’s no denying this.

I don’t believe Carlisle can kill Edward. Murder is not in his nature, and more, Edward is so dear to him. And now that this has happened, Carlisle would blame himself in part because surely, the human Edward Masen would never have become this. 

He’d likely reach out to Aro. Eclipse has happened, but not Breaking Dawn, and more everything is in question. He has to know the truth from a man who has seen Edward’s very soul. He goes in person, likely tells Edward his plans, and Edward rages but that doesn’t stop Carlisle.

Rosalie (more on her below) would never forgive Edward, ever, she is done. She and Emmett likely go with Carlisle to Volterra to hear the truth of what Edward is. Esme stays behind with Edward, torn in half, but unable to leave his side in this time of crisis. With that, her and Carlisle’s marriage completely dissolves on the spot. Alice stays with Edward as well, which means Jasper does to, though this likely starts the gears in head and he begins to contemplate leaving his wife. Though I imagine he won’t act for some time.

By the time Emmett, Rosalie, and Carlisle reach Volterra the coven is broken.

If Bella survived, if Edward murdered Renesmee while she was out of commission for three days, then I imagine she too goes to Volterra. Not for truth, but so that Aro can murder her, because there’s no point in living anymore.

Emmett

It would have to be beyond the pale extreme because Emmett gets more hints than most of the family (i.e. Carlisle and Rosalie).

Edward doesn’t really confide in Emmett, per se, but he does say some pretty damning things on their hunting trip in New Moon and give off varying vibes of crazy. Rather than realize that Edward, perhaps, is dangerous, Emmett only gets the feeling that Edward might not be alright in the head. Mostly, Emmett doesn’t want to think about it.

So he gets to listen to Edward raving about how Bella could be crushed by a meteor, wondering why Edward even cares when two days ago he didn’t give a flying fuck about this rando tasty human.

To Emmett, Edward has been laughing madly to himself for days, is now a  paranoid wreck, and is starting to creep him out but... Maybe if he ignores it, Edward will go back to normal?

Not helping is that Emmett doesn’t care about human life. He’s constantly telling Edward to treat himself and eat Bella, in a manner that suggests he vicariously wants to live through the delicious experience (as well as get Edward to calm down). 

If Edward eats Bella, Emmett will slap him on the back and say “Good job, bro!” If Edward eats Bella after the whole “love” thing, well, that’s weird, but, uh, “Sorry, bro?” If Edward murders all of Biology...

Then Emmet might do a double take and think, you know, maybe something’s not right with Edward.

I think he’d suggest he and Rose take a very long vacation and wait for things to calm down. Hoping that, if he ignores this, it will go away and Edward will return to a... saneish person.

What Rose thinks is a different story.

Esme

There is nothing on this planet that could tear Esme away from Edward. Esme’s purpose in life, the thing that gives her joy each morning and each night, is her family which you can condense down to Edward: the best and brightest of all of us.

We see it in canon.

The day after Edward decides he’s in love he acts like a lunatic. The car smells like Bella, as he kidnapped her for a ride home (Bella did not realize she had, in fact, been abducted. Edward does for two seconds then says to himself, “No, no, this is--completely necessary. I’M A MONSTER”

Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett get to ride home in this Bella smelling car. Edward keeps laughing, like he’s in an opium den, it’s fucking weird. Edward offers no explanation, the car always smells like Bella, what are you talking about?

Edward then skips to the piano, giggling to himself, and sits down to compose. An action he hasn’t done in years. He’s still grinning and giggling to himself, by the way. Alice joins him at the piano, being equally cryptic and weird as usual. For some reason, Rosalie leaves the room in complete humiliation and shame. This is never explained to anyone watching.

Esme is sitting in the room, taking this all in, and thinks nothing. Instead she smiles, at beautiful Edward, and asks him to play the song he composed for her. She’s so glad to see him filled with joy again. She tells him that he is the best and brightest of all of them.

Esme later gives Edward her pretty much express permission to eat Bella if the girl is causing him such pain and misery. Luckily for Bella, Edward’s in love. So he passes on that and assures Esme the most wonderful thing has happened, he is in love.

My point being, Edward could drop the corpses of the students he murdered in Biology so he could more efficiently eat Bella at Esme’s feet and she wouldn’t blink. It wouldn’t even process for her. Esme would continue carrying on as Esme, nothing changing, while the rest of the family stares agog at the city Edward just murdered.

There is nothing Edward could do or say that would ever change Esme’s mind and she will always treat him as her favorite child.

Jasper

With his gift, I imagine Jasper suspects. Edward loathes Rosalie, despises him, and his feelings for others are... strange. He holds indifference and contempt for mankind and when it comes to Bella. Woof, what a cocktail.

He has no proof though, but I imagine if the smallest thing comes into his lap, that suspicion would become a certainty.

As for what he’d do, it’s hard to say.

I think, in most scenarios, he’d look the other way. Yes, Edward is a monater, but Jasper to is a monster if for different reasons, he has no room to judge. More, Edward is in many respects the heart of the Cullens, far more than Japser himself is. If Jasper goes causing strife, making accusations the others may or may not believe, then the coven could collapse.

This place, these people, are what Jasper thinks he’s been searching for all his life. For the first time, he knows peace, and is trying to live a life where he doesn’t persist in agony every time he succumbs to eating. Jasper is not going to risk that falling apart, even if he finds Edward unpleasant.

And if Edward keeps it to himself, or if the occasional human is the victim, then that’s a price Jasper is willing to pay.

Jasper might actually get concerned when it comes to Bella. For all Bella’s not very close with him, he holds her in very high regard. He nearly devoured Bella, and she forgave him, she forgave him his monstrously brutal past and has never flinched from him. She is a reminder of what humanity can be and why it’s important.

If he realized the threat Edward is to Bella, not just in eating her, but on a level much darker than that, then he might start to act and would probably try to get Bella to leave while she could. However, he also likely knows Bella would never listen, because she doesn’t see what Edward is and nothing would convince her otherwise. Not to mention, as soon as Jasper knows, Edward will plot against him so that no one in the family will ever listen to a word he says.

Not to mention that Alice, of course, must know and doesn’t care. That will be quite the blow to Jasper taking any action.

Barring extreme circumstances, Jasper does nothing, he just watches and waits to see what the others do.

Rosalie

For all that Edward doesn’t bother to be nice to Rosalie, and is ready to lay into her at a moment’s notice, he’s very dear to her. He is, in all regards, her brother and she cares for him deeply as she does the family as a whole.

Rosalie has no idea what he truly is and it would take a lot for her to accept it. More, unlike Carlisle, although she prizes human values and tries to hold herself to human standards her morals have slipped enough that she genuinely advocates murdering Bella Swan in her sleep so that Rosalie won’t have to move.

Murdering Bella won’t be enough, Rosalie will see it as the accident that could have been avoided if Edward hadn’t insisted on being a fool. 

I think, for Rosalie, the best way to drive it home would be a sexual crime. Had Edward forced Bella’s abortion in Breaking Dawn, that would have done it. First, it’d be such a messy, bloody, affair at that point and would look like a horror show (which means Edward’s more than likely to eat Bella in the process). Second, this would be Edward taking the child that Bella wanted, tearing it from her and murdering it, and performing the most vile action that Rosalie can likely even contemplate.

I don’t know what she’d do, I don’t think Rosalie’s capable of killing Edward, she cares for him too much, even after something like this. However, I think she would make an ultimatum to Carlisle “either he goes or I go” and then would never speak of Edward again, he’s dead to her.

[pastelwitchling]

Alex had both palms braced on the console, breathing deeply, and trying not to spiral into the hurricane of questions and horrifying scenarios his brain was making. He had to stay focused.

“What about the security cameras?” Liz said somewhere behind him.

“We checked them, there’s no hint where he could be,” Max said with a little edge. “Whoever did this knew exactly where to stand to keep hidden.”

“It was Mr. Jones,” Alex muttered, thinking. “It had to be.”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” Liz was starting, but Alex cut her off.

“Not alone, but he did do this,” he said. “This is how my dad works. He uses people, whoever he needs to. He used Michael when he’d taken me, and now he’s used Mr. Jones.”

It wasn’t right, not completely, Alex knew. Something about this whole plan to take Michael and leave Mr. Jones behind felt off, it felt sloppy. His dad was many things, but not sloppy. The finer details though didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Michael was gone, and Alex was on the verge of losing his mind. Maybe he already had. That didn’t matter either.

“I want to talk to him,” Alex demanded. “See what he knows.”

“Alex,” Max started to shake his head, “we don’t know what he’s capable of, even under the pollen, he could be too dangerous to –”

“I’ve seen things that would give you nightmares, Max Evans,” Alex hissed, and the room fell silent. “Right now, the only danger you have to worry about is me. None of you know anything about interrogation, I’m taking over.”

It was not a request, and Max and Isobel didn’t hear it that way. They took Alex back to Max’s house, through his large living room, into the guest bedroom where Mr. Jones was being kept.

Alex had expected him to look like Max’s twin, but there was something unhinged in the darkness of his eyes that Max definitely didn’t have, a twisted curl to his mouth that said he knew Max and Alex were vibrating with fear for Michael, and that it made him happy.

“Well, well,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse despite the upward quirk of his lips. “Aren’t you a pretty one? I was wondering when I’d get to see you here, Jesse Manes Jr.”

“It’s Alex, actually,” Alex said, kneeling in front of Mr. Jones and peering up at him. There were dark circles around his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, his shoulders slumped with an undeniable exhaustion. There was a single needle wound in his neck.

“You took someone that belongs to me,” Alex said quietly, and Mr. Jones tilted his head, his eyes locked on Alex’s. “And I want him back.”

Mr. Jones started to laugh. It was breathy, his voice cracked, and it faded into a fit of coughs, but he was clearly amused, nonetheless.

“That’s sweet,” he murmured. “You’re sweet. I kinda like you.”

“Enough with your stupid games,” Max warned. “Tell us where my brother is, or you’re going to wish you were never born.”

Mr. Jones gasped mockingly. “Goodness me, brother. What’re you gonna do? Lecture me to death?” His laughs grew louder, stronger. “I know you too well. You put on the villain face, but in the end, you ‘aint got the nerve.” He looked down at Alex, and sneered, like his next words were the most insulting he could think of. “You’re heroes. You see the good in everyone, even a lunatic like Jesse Manes. Now that man is dark. View’s too limited though, too narrow-minded. Can’t see the big picture.”

Alex stared. “You won’t tell us where Michael is? That’s your final answer?” Mr. Jones opened his mouth to retort, but Alex coldly cut him off. “Keep in mind that this is your last chance to talk.”

Mr. Jones’ smile widened and he tilted his head. In a singsong voice, he responded, “Michael’s gonna diiii—eeee.”

Alex’s eye twitched. “Max,” he said, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears. “Can I have a minute please?”

Max must’ve known something bad was about to happen because he quietly responded, “Sure, Alex. Just don’t kill him.”

Alex clenched his jaw, his eyes unmoving from Mr. Jones. He wouldn’t kill him. Dead men couldn’t talk.

*

Max regretted leaving the second the door closed behind him. Isobel, Liz, and Kyle looked up from where they sat on the couch, waiting for an answer.

“Did you find out where Michael is?” Isobel demanded.

Max shook his head. “He won’t talk, no matter what I say.” He punched the wall. “He’s having too much fun.”

“I don’t get it,” Kyle shook his head. “Jesse Manes left him to get caught. How could he still be defending him?”

Max didn’t say his biggest fear; Mr. Jones didn’t care if Jesse had left him so long as he was killing Michael and the rest of them were suffering for it. He would have fun watching no matter what.

Kyle was staring at the guest bedroom door from his seat on the armrest, his arms crossed. “Why’s Alex still in there? Shouldn’t you help him? You’re the one with the powers.”

“Alex wanted a minute alone with him,” Max said, avoiding their eyes.

Liz, of course, noticed right away. “Max,” she said, “what aren’t you telling us?”

Max shook his head. Alex was just worried, they were all worried. He was fine. He opened his mouth to say that when Mr. Jones suddenly screamed.

The others shot to their feet, Isobel’s hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” Liz breathed.

Oh my god was right, Max thought. That wasn’t any normal scream. It was one of pure and utter agony, like the scream of a man having his limbs slowly torn off.

Max took two long steps to the room when the screams suddenly cut off, and the door opened. Alex was wiping his bloody hand off on his jacket. Max stared. He was not the only one. That blood, they knew, was not Alex’s, but it covered his entire forearm like paint.

“Alex,” Kyle breathed, “what the hell –”

“Caulfield,” Alex said at once, already heading to the door. “He’s at Caulfield.”

It was too late to hide the look in his eyes. Max had seen something in Alex shatter, something dark, something frightening.

*

“Drive faster,” Alex said through clenched teeth.

“This is as fast as it’ll go, Alex,” Max said. Alex could feel him glancing. “If anything happened to Michael –”

“Don’t.”

“—We’d know,” he finished. “Okay? Isobel and I would’ve felt it. I would’ve felt it.”

Alex felt the smallest bit of reassurance. It was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear and discomfort at not having Michael in his arms, safe and sound. His hand, his fingers, his wrist and forearm, they were still stained with Mr. Jones’ blood. He could still feel the meat of the alien’s flesh as he dug his fingers into the needle wound at his neck, opening up the cut to fit his fingers, until Mr. Jones was screaming. His eyes wide, as though he’d never expected Alex to raise so much as a finger at him. He’d been wrong. He’d taken Michael.

He had no idea what he’d unleashed.

As if hearing his thoughts, Max quietly asked, “What’d you do to him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” was all Alex said, not wanting to linger on the familiar chill of his own voice.

When they reached Caulfield, they were careful to come in the same way they’d come when it had just been Michael, Alex, and Kyle. Alex held his gun up, as did Max. Kyle stayed on Alex’s other side, a taser in his and Liz’s hands while Isobel held her hands up in case of a sudden attack.

Getting in was difficult. It felt like every few feet, a guard came out to stop them. Alex knew these people were trying to keep Michael away from them, and wanted nothing more than to tear into them with his bare hands, but they needed to hurry. He shot each one in the shoulder or leg. There was more than one spot in the human body that rendered the rest of it paralyzed. He didn’t care if they screamed, if they bled out. As far as he was concerned, they’d signed their death warrants when they helped Jesse hide Michael from him. He was being merciful not doing worse.

They moved deeper and deeper into the facility, and by the end of it, it was him and Max with the most stains on their clothes and the more bruises. Better that way. They made it into a long, dark hallway that took them to a sealed room.

Through a small window, Alex could see Michael in a steel chair, his head dropping between his shoulders as an IV strip pumped something that looked a lot like the pollen’s serum and something else into his veins.

There was a keypad next to the door. Without missing a beat, Alex held his gun for Max to take and pulled out his phone.

“Michael!” Isobel called through the window, panicked, but it was no use. He wouldn’t be answering anybody.

“Can’t we break the door down?” Liz demanded.

“It’s reinforced steel and set up to self-destruct,” Alex muttered, typing rapidly on his phone. He knew that hacking software he’d created would come in handy sometime. “Look around you. This place is already falling apart from the last time someone tried to break in.”

“But you can get him out, right?” Max asked Alex.

“Yeah,” Kyle said without missing a beat. Alex could feel him staring. “Yeah, he can do it.”

A second. Two. Three. Four seconds of Alex hearing nothing but the blood rushing in his own ears and the held breaths of everyone around him. The keypad beeped, the steel hinges clicked, and the door swung open. Alex pushed it enough to run in and fall to his knees in front of Michael, yanking the strips out of his arm while Max and Isobel set to work on the cuffs that kept him in the chair.

“Hey,” Alex whispered, lifting his chin gently. “Hey, baby, can you hear me? Michael, look at me, can you hear me?”

Michael’s eyes were half-lidded and hazed. Michael made a soft “Hmm?,” and his gaze focused for a split second. He smiled sleepily.

“You,” he breathed, “you look . . . just like my Alex.”

A small cry escaped Isobel’s lips before she quickly stifled it. Liz put a hand on her back as Kyle undid the rope around Michael’s waist. Jesse was nowhere in sight. He must’ve run the second he heard them arrive, knowing the guards would do nothing but stall for time. None of it mattered.

Alex smiled at Michael. “I am,” he huffed a chuckle, his eyes burning. “I am your Alex. Okay, come on, give me your arm, lean on me.”

“Alex,” Kyle tried, “if your leg hurts, I can –”

Alex cut him a glare so sharp Kyle turned silent at once. He’d apologize for it later. Right now, he needed to feel Michael against him, and he trusted no one but himself to help get him out of this hellhole.

Michael was able to stand, though he leaned most of his weight on Alex, his other arm around Max. His face was in Alex’s hair and he inhaled.

He murmured, “You smell like him, too.”

“Come on, baby,” Alex encouraged, unwilling to ever let go again. “Come on, you can do it, just hold onto me.”

 Alex’s fingers and toes had turned numb from the lack of movement in the last two hours, but he didn’t dare stand and walk around. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Michael until he woke up. He’d collapsed almost the second they’d gotten him into Max’s car, but Alex had kept a tight hold on him.

Max’s healing was useless against the pollen, and technically, Michael didn’t need a hospital, but Alex wanted Kyle to have access to whatever he needed to help him.

So they were pumping acetone into his veins instead of saline, they were monitoring his heart rate, even as, by the minute, it was getting better and better. And still, Alex kept close, kept watch, made sure no one but Kyle came in, no one but Kyle changed his IV bag and cleaned his wounds.

At one point, Kyle came in and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Dude, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when he’s awake.”

“Alex –”

“Kyle,” Alex said, his voice clipped. “I’m not leaving him.”

A moment of silence, then, “Are you okay?”

“The man I love was kidnapped by my father, what do you think?”

“Alex.”

Alex glanced at Kyle, and the lump that had been in his throat since he first discovered Michael had gone missing lodged itself firmly in place now, forbidding him to breath steadily. His eyes burned and his lower lip trembled as a horrifying realization that he’d been keeping at bay surfaced now.

He whispered, “I’m just like him.”

“No,” Kyle said immediately. His voice was calm. “You’re not.”

“What I did to Mr. Jones,” he shook his head. “I would’ve killed every single guard in that prison without batting an eye.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Kyle –”

“You wouldn’t have.” Kyle sat down next to him. “Alex, you’re not your dad. All he ever thought about was himself. You did what you had to do to get Guerin back. Mr. Jones never would’ve told us where he was if you hadn’t – if you hadn’t done what you’d done.”

“I’d do anything for him,” Alex whispered, watching the way Michael’s chest rose and fell with his breaths. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Maybe for some people,” Kyle shrugged a shoulder. “Not for you.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I’m scared of what I’d become for him.”

“Who you always are is Alex,” Kyle said, and stood, ruffling Alex’s hair. “No matter what you become, that doesn’t change.”

With that, Kyle left them to be alone, and still Alex would not look away from Michael. He sniffled and reached out, taking Michael’s hand in both of his and holding tight.

The lump, the weight on his chest, the pain in his leg, he knew, wouldn’t go away until he got to see Michael was awake and safe. With the knowledge that he would be here all night, Alex squeezed Michael’s hand, and waited.

*

Michael opened his eyes to a white ceiling, white walls, and white sheets. A steady beep beep beep went on somewhere behind him, there was a warm weight on his left hand and hip, and he realized that he was in a hospital. Before he could start to question why though, he caught the source of the weight.

Alex had his head rested against Michael’s hip, sleeping with pinched brows as his hands clung to Michael’s. Michael stared. It took him a minute to process what he was seeing.

He heard himself breathe slowly, carefully. If this was a dream, he hoped he never woke up. Alex looked so real, his dark, straight hair splayed against the white sheets, his long lashes curled against rosy cheeks, his warm breathing against Michael’s hand as his lips brushed Michael’s fingers.

Michael reached up his thumb to touch Alex’s cheek, to see if it was as soft and warm as it looked (it was), and Alex started awake. His eyes followed Michael’s thumb to his face, and he sat up, a grin splitting his lips.

“Guerin!” he breathed. He stood and cupped Michael’s face. Michael did not miss the way he winced, but his eyes were filling with tears that begged to fall and his smile was so beautiful and happy that Michael couldn’t find it in him to do anything but cling to Alex’s hands just as tightly.

“You’re okay,” he sighed with relief, his fingers gentle on Michael’s jaw. “You’re okay. I’m going to – I should go get Kyle, I –”

“No,” Michael croaked, his throat dry, as he tried to sit up. “No, stay here.”

“Be careful,” Alex said, setting up his pillows and helping him lie down against them. “There you go, careful.” He stood back, looking Michael over for any open wounds. “Do you – uh – what do you need?”

Michael watched him. His fingers were trembling, his eyes twitching, his jaw clenched so tightly Michael feared he was drawing blood. He wordlessly held his arms out, and Alex eyed him a moment before his expression revealed the grief behind it, a sob escaped his lips, and he fell into Michael’s embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, and Michael’s heart broke. His hold on Alex tightened.

“Don’t,” he growled. “That wasn’t your fault. Got it? It wasn’t your fault, Alex. You’re my hero.”

“I’m not,” Alex whimpered. “You don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” Michael breathed, his hold unbearably, painfully tight now. “I don’t care. You’re always my hero, Private.”

Alex burrowed deeper into his side. He kissed Michael’s shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his cheek, and held his face as he kissed his lips. Michael didn’t care if they weren’t officially together or hadn’t really spoken about their feelings since Alex and Forrest had ended things. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Alex.

He held Alex back just as desperately, and kissed him again and again and again, until all Alex could do was laugh through his tears.

“I’m sorry,” Alex swallowed, straightening. “I should – I should be more careful. You’re still hurt. Uh –” he wiped his face roughly “—do you want me to get you some water? Juice? Anything you want.”

“You,” was all Michael said, taking hold of Alex’s hand and pulling him onto the bed.

Alex looked startled, but went where Michael guided him until they were both lying on their sides, pressed close together.

“Guerin,” Alex whispered as Michael wrapped an arm around his waist, his forehead against Alex’s. “We can’t do this now, you – you need –”

“You,” Michael whispered back. With his other hand, he traced Alex’s jaw, his lips, down his neck. He couldn’t remember anything after his bunker had been broken into, but he’d been sure of one thing; Alex would bring hell to the doorstep of anyone who dared hurt him.

“All I’ve ever wanted and needed is you,” Michael said into the small space between their lips. Alex’s eyes fluttered, his chin raising so that his lips met Michael’s, as if he couldn’t help himself. Michael was so in love, it hurt him.

Before he closed the distance between them, he whispered, “My Alex.”

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      Content: Language, possible errors  A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one! 

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”  

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

[elriel-oblivion]

So I started this in the last week of 2020, and I'm ready to post it 😊 I've still got a couple other wips I'd started before this one but I haven't been bothered to finish those lol so I'm putting this one out first. Anyway, this'll be 6 parts long; I'll prob put up the next part in three or four days.

I'll put word counts so you can gauge how long each part is and if you wanna read it 😅 Also lemme know if you'd like to be tagged

Word count: 2.2K

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part I

__

The shadows were colder than usual tonight. On better days, their chill wrapped Azriel's bones in an icy embrace, a comforting freeze numbing any semblance of feeling in his wasted heart.

But this miserable night, they were searing cold, the kind of cold piercing the highest of mountain peaks; the kind of cold that penetrated the brain itself. He shivered as he travelled through those shadows, dark mists and wisps coiling like vines about his head.

Maybe he was deliberately searching for the coldest areas. Maybe he wanted a complete absence of feeling: physical, emotional, spiritual. It would certainly be easier to feel nothing than trying to quell the frigid rage inside. How could an avalanche be stopped once it started?

Further and further he moved through his shadows, dawn chasing him from a few hours away. Mountains and villages surged past through those charcoal mists, making way to depthless forests and ravines. He clenched his jaw tight against the cold, memory guiding him home.

But the fresh blood he'd seen earlier, and the mutilated remains of that little girl, one wing torn off and lying bent at the edge of the dirt path ... Her unseeing eyes were glazed, that shine as bright and true on his mind as the glint of moonlight on the blade of Death. And her scream. Cauldron, it curdled his own blood.

He'd been but a minute late. A matter of seconds were all that stood between him and the sadistic bastard who'd brutalised that child. Barely a heartbeat in his lifetime.

He blinked once to rid himself of her stare. Twice.

The image remained, muddying with his path home. His hands clenched and unclenched, nails biting into his skin, but the girl's hazel eyes and her ashen skin and the fingers outstretched for that severed wing remained an imprint on his vision.

Why was this affecting him so much? It wasn't the first time he'd seen horrors like this. But if Azriel wanted to be honest with himself, some days were harder than others simply because they were. Some days, the despair rattled his core and tossed him far out - because he was a person and emotions, feelings, these things were too abstract to be boxed in.

Everything had a limit. Had Azriel ever truly reached his?

Sometimes Azriel himself didn't understand how he kept it all in. How he didn't react or display any sign of having seen or heard the things he did. Sometimes he was repulsed by himself because of it. At least Cassian and his rare vomiting showed some of the humanity inside.

Azriel gave away nothing. Was there even humanity in himself? Everyone but his family looked at him like he was an unhinged monster imprisoned by his Illyrian skin. Like he was moments from escape and they would be his first victims.

Or - not just his family. Her. Elain. Did he consider he family? Perhaps it was too early, or even too inappropriate to do so.

Either way, how could he stain the sudden image of her with himself, with the horrors he'd just seen, had always had the displeasure of seeing? She was lovely and warm and beautiful and he was dark and cold and hideous.

Elain. Something inexplicable stirred in him at the thought of her.

He tried to calm it, this heat, this single star in his midnight sky. But it remained. And it grew.

And he was disgusted. Ashamed. He was not worthy of her.

And it ached. Another unrequited love.

That word snapped something in him. Mocked him.

Love.

A choking sound ripped from his throat and he welcomed it, let it mount into a scream, let it tear through his body and soul. Like that monster was finally breaking free. It was invigorating yet scorching. It burned him from the inside out but the cold of those shadows permeated his mind so heavily, he forgot the essence of corporeality and only his soul seemed to drift.

His ragged breathing sounded, throat parched. Where was he? Through the shadows, all around him, there seemed only darkness. Was he flying? No, the shadows sang their usual baritone thrum as opposed to the high harmony of the wind.

Above, no stars glistened. His eyes strained but nothing peeked through. It wasn't often that his shadows became this thick; usually thin and wispy, they now shrouded his being, coalescing over, in him. He became the cold, a shadow, darkness itself, floating through the ether, higher and higher like ashes on the wind.

But even ashes settled down at some point.

Unless his soul truly were ascending, unless this truly were death. It almost seemed too easy. All the battles, those two great wars, the poison that shot through his veins and stole his breath as per Hybern's whim. Poison that sometimes woke him up in cold sweats, a phantom memory of its iciness picking through his body as though he were being cut up by the sharpest blade ...

Sometimes it even felt like his own blade.

No, this couldn't be death. A mere scream, the image of lives lost, a bloody fight - he hated to admit that these were commonplace among his memories, his life. But in doing so, he knew death was too easy an aftermath for what had happened tonight.

Death, an ascent. But he was sure when his time came, his stained soul would descend like the demon he was.

So he grounded, drifting down weightlessly until the solidity of rock steadied him. He would not go to that darkest of places yet. But he was still exhausted. So damn tired of everything. He feared that if he dropped into a slumber right now, he'd not get up for a lifetime. As it was, his legs almost gave out, but he forced some remaining strength back into them. All he had to do was get home now.

He stepped out of his shadows; Devlon's camp was quiet around him. A fire to his far right sputtered in the harsh winds and Azriel swept himself back into his shadows.

This time he travelled faster, composing himself, locking his muscles and bones up, clenching his jaw. He let that familiar cool comfort drain his rage, cleaning it through his veins before it settled in the frozen lake of his heart where the rest of his darkness lay, inescapable through the impenetrable foot of icy wrath and sorrow. He savoured his shadows, a confidant in their own right, thanked them for their understanding and the escape he found within them.

But they were growing warmer now. Azriel squinted through them as they shifted him across land and water - the scape of Velaris and its brilliant lights greeted him. Closer to home now, he could breathe with a looser chest but this was still unusual; his shadows shouldn't be warmer, they should be cool and refreshing, like the autumn night breeze beyond.

His wings rustled, body reacting to his shadows' autonomy before his thawing mind caught up. 'Where are you taking me?' he murmured.

Mist swirled about him and the shadows deposited him at the far edge of the dimly lit back garden at his High Lord and Lady's riverfront estate. Why would they bring him here? Rhysand and Feyre were at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were together in Illyria and Mor was at the Winter Court. As far as he knew, Amren was at her own apartment so the only person left was -

'Azriel!' came Elain's voice. It was distant in a way it shouldn't be.

Azriel leaned against a tree, pretending to fiddle with the Siphon atop his left hand. Breathing was difficult but he swallowed and exhaled in a shudder.

He needed to fully compose himself before anyone saw him like this. If only his damn shadows hadn't taken control for those last few moments, he'd be in his own home and lying in that swirling darkness in peace. Though, he supposed, it was his own fatigue that had yielded that control.

'Azriel!' Elain cried, stopping in front of him. Her face was caught between a frown and a wince and her arm was raised slightly. 'You don't look okay.'

As always, he was momentarily stunned by how unafraid this small female was of him. Here he was in his full armour, every bit the monstrous warrior that sent his people scurrying into their homes and locking their doors, and yet Elain stood strong before him. Like she saw not a killing machine but a person.

She never even commented on how his shadows made to disappear around her. Perhaps she hadn't noticed.

He swallowed before he let out what he thought was a light laugh. 'I'm fine, don't worry.' But he could hear the hoarseness of his voice, now facing the consequences of that scathing scream. And his limbs felt even heavier than before, like someone had injected liquid lead into them.

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she whispered, lowering both her gaze and arm.

He paused, trying to catch her gaze. The constant light in her eyes whenever she looked at him was a balm to his soul. He could use some of that right now.

He reached out an arm, so impossibly leaden right now - if he could just get to sit down -

'Can I wash your hair, please?'

He started. 'You want to wash my hair?'

Elain's eyes flicked back up to skirt over his, up to his hair, where they stayed pinned. 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

Shit. He hadn't even thought of his appearance after that bloody fight earlier. How that had slipped his mind? He ran a hand through his hair, and surely enough, crumbs of dirt rained down.

Although, he really hadn't expected to turn up here of all places. In the privacy of his own home, he wouldn't have cared if he were missing a whole damn limb, if only it meant he could sleep like the dead.

Not to mention that sleeping with a little mud was the least an Illyrian warrior's problems. But Elain's care was something of a punch to his gut. When was the last time someone had truly tended to him for reasons that weren't battle or holiday related?

'You've managed to get some on your face, too,' she said, brow furrowed as she stared at his cheek.

Her eyes were so deep and focused, he wished they would just meet his once. But of course, that level of scrutiny he'd come to learn from Elain meant shyness. Just shyness. She was so endearing, he could've laughed with such fondness if he weren't so damn tired. He wished this whole damn night would be over already.

His leg faltered slightly and he stumbled forward.

'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

He raised his brows at her, but she simply took his arm and began leading him towards the house. She looked so small before him but didn't slow despite dragging his bulk behind her.

Halfway across the garden, he pulled her to him with his free arm, his shadows saving the both of them the energy of walking through that mansion of a home.

'My bathroom,' she murmured. Elain didn't balk through the five seconds of that darkness, didn't even look surprised. She showed no sign of hearing the spike in his pulse either. Thank the Mother.

He set them in her bathroom, and she didn't look at him once as she flitted around the chamber, pulling a chair from her bedroom to the sink and grabbing a towel, soap and a jug from the cupboard. Standing there, his breathing began to smooth out.

The window was open, a chill breeze sweeping in. The faelights were dim and their placid light sent a dusky illumination over Elain's features. Some bottles of oils and herbs sat on the edge of the bathtub. Azriel had heard of people using oils for bathing, but herbs? Perhaps they were like flower petals, used for their scent.

Towel in hand, Elain waited at the sink, placing the soap and jug down. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this.'

Azriel nodded, tapping his Siphon. Within seconds, that second skin of cold scales and gleaming wrath was safely stored away. Just his plain black trousers and tunic were left.

Elain's eyes caught every moment of the transformation. 'It's beautiful, all of it.'

He didn't even know if she was speaking of his armour or the basic clothes underneath or what, but his face warmed slightly, wings rustling.

'Please sit,' she said, gesturing to the chair. As he did, she wrapped the towel around his shoulders, fingers hovering above his forehead for a few seconds.

Those seconds felt perennial. He almost shuddered as her fingers made contact with his skin. Her hands were so gentle as they pushed his head back, and he shifted in the seat. He lowered his wings, and she stepped into the space he provided. She was still as he got comfortable, only turning the tap once he was settled. There was a slight crease between her brows, and he clenched his fists to keep from smoothing it out.

Sounding so much like his own mother that his throat tightened, she whispered, 'You can close your eyes.'

So he did.

__

Feedback is welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

[libsterslobsters]

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 2

Post 1

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, smut (IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T READ!!!)

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

One of the perks of being “enhanced” or in this case, a super soldier, is that you heal quickly. Within seventy-two hours, the bullet wound in his leg (not to mention the cut and black eye he sustained from several sharp blows to the face) and her matching one in the shoulder are almost completely healed, only a vague pink mark to show they were ever injured. The downside is-

“Do you want to punch sandbags until they fly off the hook, or run thirty miles around the compound first? I’ll start with whichever you don’t pick.” -they’re back to training as well.

He almost answers that he really doesn’t want to do either, it’s Sunday morning, for fuck’s sake, but it’s not like this is her first choice for what she could be doing this morning either, so he goes with-

“Punching things first. Think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so I’d best get it out of my system.” She nods and, squeezing his arm, takes off at a jog.

“See you on the other side.”

His instinct is to tell her to take it easy, she lost a lot of blood the other day and who knows if there’s been some bone or muscular damage that hasn’t quite fixed itself yet, but again, he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. Namely, taking out his bad mood on a punching bag.

Usually, when his body is in motion, his mind is at least somewhat at rest, but this time around, the exertion is just adding fuel to the flames. He’s too pissed off to just zone out and concentrate on hitting the target, still too busy trying to process what the hell happened three nights ago.

It was their first mission together. She’s been on a few separate from him, and he and Sam get called out together on the regular. Stupidly, he assumed that, since her specialty is translating or gathering intel, maybe being the little voice in someone’s ear to direct them through a maze of assailants and twisting corridors her visions had allowed her a glimpse of ahead of time, she’d be out of the line of fire. At the very least, most of the attention would be on him and Sam. But no, she was the bogey. She drew fire while he waltzed through a military fortress, recapturing stolen tech. When Rhodey so much as mentioned that possibility, he should’ve told him no, hard no. If anyone’s drawing fire, it’s him. Still, in his arrogance, he assumed it wouldn’t come to that extreme. Sam’s good at his job, and as much as he hates the reason behind it, so is he. They should’ve been able to hold the line without her painting a target on her back.

That, of course leads to yet another issue. He’s also pissed at himself for instinctively seeing her as more fragile, something that needs to be protected. Even before the same chemicals running through his veins infected her, she’d proven that she’s a damn capable person. He knows that she’s smart, both strategically and academically. Add onto that the fact that she’s fast and strong, not to mention she has visions (less than helpful ones most of the time, but they have their moments), and she’s a powerful ally. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. And yet, when he saw that she’d been hit, his mind completely emptied. He wouldn’t have been able to remember which end of a gun to use if his life depended on it, because all he could think was, “Oh god. She’s hurt.” It’s old-fashioned, outdated. He should be past this mindset, at least when it comes to work. Out there, she’s his fellow soldier, not the woman he lies awake next to in bed, sometimes for hours, just to listen to her breath and know he’s not alone. Did Steve ever put Peggy in that box, he wonders? No, of course not, because Steve’s a better man than he ever was or will ever be. So yeah, he’s pissed off at himself.

And finally, although he can barely admit it to his own mind, he’s pissed off at her. Logically he knows it’s mostly fear, some primal instinct to protect what’s his, but every time he imagines her being shot, having a bullet pass by her lungs and arteries by a very narrow margin, and then telling Sam not to let him know that she was hit, it irks him. Did she think he’d come unhinged? Screw up? Or is she stuck in the mindset she seems to have adopted as a response to the last five years of “Screw looking after myself. It doesn’t matter.” A small part of him realizes that he didn’t call in either when he took a bullet, but that’s him! And, now he’s circling back to guilt for treating her like she’s weak.

All in all, he’s so damn furious that he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until she grabs hold of his arm just as he goes to swing again.

“Jesus, Bucky. I know you’re grouchy, but don’t you think destroying five punching bags in thirty minutes is enough? Save some aggression for the run.”

He looks up to tell her something (I’m sorry? Damn right I’m grouchy? Let me take you home and wrap you in blankets so that nothing will ever hurt you again?) and catches sight of her sweat-soaked face. He hates how far she takes things with the running. It’s like she’s trying to see what the limits are, how much she can punish her body before it gives out and she drops. That’s what it was in the very beginning after the snap. She’s told him that. Now he wonders if she’s really as recovered from everything that’s happened as she claims.

“Have you had anything to drink? Water, or-” She groans and reaches to detach the punching bag (there’s a decent sized rip in it where he was hitting it over and over), making her shirt ride up. Her clothes were already so tight that just seeing her out of the corner of his eye was making it hard to think, but now they’re completely adhered to her in a way that’s nearly obscene thanks to all the sweat. Dammit. Think about something else. He needs to think about something else.

“Yes, I’m on my second water bottle, thank you Barnes. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just self-destructive.” It slips out before he can stuff it down. Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, but then she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Always running straight towards the fire instead of putting it out first.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s your hangup.” She laughs bitterly. “Bucky Barnes, the big, bad Winter Soldier. You’ve decided you’re so fucked up that the only way you can make amends is to run headlong towards whatever’s trying to kill you, without backup I might add, and keep to your mission no matter what your personal damage is.”

“Says the woman who took a bullet and stopped Sam from announcing that you’re hit.” They’re teetering closer and closer to a fight with every nearly snarled word, but he’s powerless to stop it. In fact, he’s ready to go. Have it out. But not right now, because-

“Hey.” He catches her arm just as she starts to hoist another punching bag onto the hook. “Be careful! You’re still healing.” -she’s hellbent on hurting herself. Again.

She whirls around as if he’s slapped her.

“Oh my god. You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break!” Her voice is shrill, rising higher and higher with each syllable. “I love you, but you are driving me insane. I am not your child-”

“No, you’re the person I want to marry!” He takes a deep breath, preparing to follow up with, “-and you keep acting like you have a death wish”, but before he can-

“You won’t even fuck me anymore!” Immediately, her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

If her declaration surprised her, it absolutely stunned him so, not quite sure what else to do, he takes a few steps back and sits down. A few seconds pass before she approaches and, with a heavy sigh, sinks down next to him.

“Bucky, I am so sorry. I don’t know where any of this is coming from-”

“I think you do, Doll.” Her eyes dart nervously between his face and the floor. On instinct, he reaches over and takes her hand. “And so do I.” He takes a few moments to rearrange his thoughts before pushing ahead. “A lot has changed since-”

“The world ended. We lost. And then we won.” He nods.

“Yeah, and I don’t think either of us have quite wrapped our heads around it. I know I haven’t.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then, voice trembling, she tells him,

“After you went away, I was completely lost. Didn’t know why I had to stay. What kind of cruel trick is it, just when everything was starting to go right-” He finally had the poison of HYDRA sucked out of him, she’d found a safe place where she didn’t have to run and hide because of something she was born with, he’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she’d maybe one day be his wife. “-and then it’s wiped out? You finally went somewhere I couldn’t follow.” He still can’t imagine what those five years must’ve been like, not just for her, but everyone else who survived the snap. “I didn’t want to keep going. But I had to.” She chuckles. “Steve wouldn’t let me throw in the towel.”

A smile forms on his own face. “Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.”

“I guess…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I got harder, rougher around the edges. I thought I could just go back to normal once everyone came back-”

“But old habits die hard.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yeah, and as much as I chip away at it, I’m not sure I’ll ever get back to who I was before.”

“You won’t.” She peers up at him, eyes wide in shock, maybe a hint of sadness. “I can tell you that right now from experience. You won’t go back, but-” He’s had a lot of time to consider this, so he can say it and absolutely believe it. “-I love the girl that’s here now. She’s pretty amazing, rough edges and all.”

She’s sitting so close. He could pull her into his lap, just hold her for a minute. So, that’s what he does, and just like the first time, they fit together perfectly, like she was made to fit in his arms, or maybe he was made to hold her. Either way, it leaves no doubt in his mind that they belong together.

“You changed. Everyone does. You got stronger and tougher, because that’s who you had to be. And I wasn’t there to change with you.” He can feel her shoulders shake, and even though she’s facing away from him, he knows she’s fighting back tears. “But I’m gonna catch up. It’s just taking me a while to get it through my thick skull that my girl’s a badass, and I need to ease off the bodyguard routine a little.” There. That’s more like it. A laugh, even if it’s a small one. “I just worry about you, is all. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not sure I can, but I’m working on it.”

“I worry about you too, you know.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with her hand. “I’m fucking terrified because, now that I’m like you, I know what your limits are. I’m scared you’ll forget them, or you’ll ignore them because you’re trying to be a good man.” She cranes her head, meeting his gaze. “But you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. You never stopped being one, no matter what you think.”

“I think your picture of me might be more flattering than who I really am.”

“Shut up.” She presses her palm over his mouth. “I have visions, so seeing is never my problem. And it’s not the way I’m picturing you. We’ve known each other long enough for the shine to wear off.” Never. It’ll never be possible for him to know her so long that she’s not absolutely golden from where he’s standing. “It’s who you’ve shown me you are. And if the rest of the world doesn’t see it, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

He’s not sure if he buys all that, but it’s enough that she does. She sees him as that man, so he’ll try every day of his life to be just that.

“Come on.” Gently pushing her off of him, he stands and offers her his hand. “That’s enough training for today. We’re still wounded.”

She chuckles. “Is that your excuse for calling it early?”

He nods, barely suppressing a grin. “That, and you’ve gotta change into something that doesn’t fit you like a second skin before my brain permanently short-circuits.”

“Showers, then?”

“Showers.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The compound sustained heavy damage thanks to Thanos crashing a ship into it, but in the past few months (helped along by Pepper’s billions and the entire galaxy’s appreciation towards the Avengers in equal parts), enough repairs have been done to make it partially usable. In this case, the locker room. Just the one, though. Which, of course means co-ed showers.

She won’t admit it, but she’s particularly appreciative of that little detail today. As she circled the compound on her last lap, she saw that the only two cars there are hers and Barnes. They’re the only two people here, and she fully intends to use that to her advantage.

“Join me? I don’t want to overextend my shoulder trying to wash my hair or back.” It’s a blatant lie, and from his expression, she can tell that he knows it too. But, he nods.

“Yeah, doll. I can do that.” Part one of the plan has been executed beautifully. Onward to part two.

She purposely leaves the travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash on the floor so that, after rinsing off for far longer than is really necessary, she has to bend over to retrieve them. If it weren’t for her enhanced hearing, she’d completely miss the sharp intake of breath in response to her little show, but she catches it and can’t help grinning to herself. Part two: get him as worked up as she is. So far, so good.

The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, is almost enough to make her forget that she’s a woman on a mission. Almost. As soon as she’s rinsed the soap out of her face, she turns to him.

“Your turn. Bend.” It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and as always, she has to fight back a laugh as he inclines his head towards her, the entirety of his hair falling forward to cover his face. “This used to take a lot longer before you decided to chop it all off.” He chuckles, eyes closed against the soap.

“What can I say? Seventy-three years without a haircut is my limit.” She can’t blame him, and although it was a shock at first, she’s come to like this new look. It makes him look…younger, somehow. More boyish. Like his life hasn’t contained as many horrors as they both know full well it has.

“You checking for lice or something?”

“Huh?” That jerks her out of her sentimental daze. “Looks like you’re clear.”

There’s no way to put it politely. She’s straight up ogling him as he rinses off. Five damn years…

“Ready to get your back?” And, she just got caught staring.

“Sure.”

His hands are gentle, putting as little pressure on her injured shoulder as possible, growing firmer as they work down her back. She holds her breath as she feels his palms ghost over the swell of her ass, but then he’s back to safer territory. At least, that’s what she thinks until the metal arm snakes around her chest, just below her breasts, holding her in place. His free hand runs down from her sternum to her middle, stopping just above her hips, then- fuck. Nothing. He’s backing away.

“Do you need help with your legs?” No, what she needs help with is located between them. Suddenly, the shower feels far too hot, and she’s desperate to cool off.

“That’s okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she mentally berates herself as she steps under the spray, rinsing away the soap.

She’s not at all sure that her excuse for leaving the shower and going to towel off made any sense, but with a few feet between them, she’s able to breath again. Alright, scratch the whole “shower seduction” idea. It wasn’t that great to begin with. She gets him as hot and bothered as she is, and then what? Shower sex is a slippery affair, and plus there’s the height difference… in the steamed up mirror, she catches sight of him climbing out of the shower and toweling off. Fuck it. What does she have to lose?

“Come here.” As he turns around, she hops up on the counter top (thank fuck Stark went all out and got the sinks that can easily hold the weight of an adult), allowing her towel to slip further down her chest.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit down to her cleavage before settling back on her face as he stands in front of her.

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Let me get your hair. You’ll never get it dry yourself.” She’s really running low on excuses, but if she plays her cards right, she won’t have to keep up this ruse for much longer.

“You know-” She murmurs against his ear as she starts working a towel over his tousled locks, “-if you don’t take me right now, I’m gonna be really offended.”

His head snaps up, and she nearly drops the towel.

“Well, I can’t let that happen, can I?”

She has a smart-ass remark all planned out, but then his lips are pressed against hers, hard, insistent, and her brain completely empties of anything other than pure need. She’s not completely sure how, but somehow the towel wrapped around her torso (it’s so short, it didn’t even cover her ass sitting down) disappears, leaving them chest to chest, both still slightly damp from the shower. On instinct, her legs wrap around his back, bringing them so close together she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“The floor, or-” It’s murmured against her ear between nibbles.

“No. Here.” It’s all she can do to hold back a moan as his whole body rumbles with quiet laughter.

“Someone’s eager.”

She leans back far enough to peer into his eyes.

“And you’re not?” The response is a thumb against her clit, and she has to bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle a yelp.

“If I’d known you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for the past two months.” That would’ve been a very small price to pay.

Five years is a long time, and her body tenses up at the intrusion of his finger inside of her, but she immediately forces her muscles to relax, and within seconds, it’s all she can do not to writhe against him.

“That’s it. Relax. I’ll take care of you.” It’s a lost cause. This is going to be noisy. She hazily thinks to herself that it’s all his fault.

He’s always been one for foreplay, making sure she’ll be comfortable once they actually get around to the main event, but finally enough is enough and, reaching between them, she stills his wrist.

“Get inside me.”

“Are you sure? You’re still tight-” Disentangling one of her arms from around his neck, she gives his hair a sharp tug.

“I’m like you now, remember? You’re not going to break me.”

He pulls back from her, hesitating, eyes darting between her face and the door.

“What?”

“I don’t have-” Oh. She quickly runs the calculations in her head. Given which day of the month it is, the likelihood would be-

“It’ll be fine. Just pull out.” To her relief, he doesn’t argue.

Her breath catches as he pushes inside of her, and if the panting against her neck is anything to judge from, she’s not the only one affected.

“It’s been too damn long.” Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), she laughs breathlessly.

“You think it’s been too long? Try five fucking years!” His laugh tickles her neck.

“You’re never gonna stop using that one, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve earned the right.” After all, he constantly reminds her that he had to wait 98 years to meet the love of his life, so fair is fair.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“Sounds like you just set yourself a challenge.”

“Guess I’d better get to work then.” As he says it, he pulls nearly all the way out only to slam back in again.

It’s primal, the way their bodies move together, desperate for a connection that’s been missing for so long. There’s no room or need for words to be spoken; their gasped breaths and strangled moans say it all. His hand sneaks between them, toying with her nub, and that’s what sends her over the edge. It’s the tipping point for him too because, muffling his cries against her shoulder, he pulls out just in time.

“We shoulda done that before the shower.” She’s still gasping for breath, but it forces a laugh from her. He follows suit, offering her a spare towel to clean herself up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barnes.” He shoots her a questioning look as she hops down on shaky legs. “I thought it was good before, but damn.”

He laughs, pulling on his jeans. “I didn’t want to risk breaking the bed. I’m a gentleman like that.” She knows the real concern was her safety, but if she concentrates on that too hard, she’ll start going mushy, and in this instance, crying after sex seems like it would kill the mood.

“You know-” She pulls her t shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. “-I never really liked the bed I have now anyway.” It’s also really too small for two full-grown adults to share comfortably.

Sliding his duffle bag over his shoulder, he takes her hand. “Then maybe we should go home? Give you an excuse to get a new one?” Before she can answer-

“Go home. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of god, go.” Her eyes dart towards the source of the noise. The door, or more specifically, the other side of it. “Hearing you and the bionic man fucking once was enough. I’m gonna shoot you both and then myself if I have to listen to round two.”

Bucky catches her eye and mouths “Oops!”, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You know Sam, you could’ve just walked away. You didn’t have to wait outside the door like a creep.” She has to bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, trust me. I could hear you from all the way down the hall.”

“Sorry.” She gasps it out between bouts of laughter, and she must be pulling a funny face, because he snickers to.

“No, you’re not.” No, she really isn’t. Just that they got caught.

“We’re heading out. You’ve got the place to yourself.” Giving his hand a tug, she pulls open the door, revealing a flustered Sam.

“I hope you remembered to wipe down the counter, you nasties!”

As they make their way down the corridor, Bucky calls out,

“See you Monday?”

“Yeah. And you’d better be wearing pants!”

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 22)

Chapter 22

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21, ch 22

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

Catalina figured she was in hell when the first thing she felt was fire. It was burning her from the inside out. It was a pain she had never felt before, completely blinding, completely debilitating. The only thought that consumed her was make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

The fire felt like it was licking at her veins for what felt like eternity. At some point, she became aware of her body, namely, her face, which began feeling as though it was being stretched to its limits. The only thing she could liken this pain to was how allergy season made her face feel in the mornings: swollen and full. It was a similar feeling, but a thousand-fold. It eventually moved to her jaw. She felt like her teeth would fall out if this continued. She felt as if her jaw would come unhinged if this didn’t stop. This pain overwhelmed the fire, which was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the fire was sharp and all consuming, a curse because this pain was almost worse. A curse because Catalina was sure her face was being torn apart.

Every time she thought she couldn’t take any more, the fire or the pain in her face would persist, keeping her in an immovable state even longer. When would this end? Would it ever? She felt as though this kind of pain had been described to her before, but she couldn’t be sure. She had to be in hell. She died, right? She remembered dying. She must be in hell.

It felt like absolute eternity, but eventually, the pain began subsiding. Every time it would lessen slightly, she would thank whatever deity was doing this to her. The more it subsided, the more room for memory made its home in her mind. She died. Amanda slit her throat. Her friends. Jimin was beside her, a knife to his throat as well. Did they kill him too? She hoped not, but she figured it was likely. Hoseok wasn’t there. She hoped he was found, and that he was okay. The others as well. She hoped they were all okay.

Jungkook. He wouldn’t be okay. If Catalina was really dead, and Jungkook survived, he would be having a hard time right about now. And she really, really hoped he did survive. She wished she could have said goodbye to him, and given him one last kiss, told him she loved him one last time. But she didn’t, and she hoped he could get through this. She didn’t want that sweet, intelligent, beautiful boy to be ruined by this. She hoped he could keep living.

The pain continued to subside and consciousness came to her in small segments. This was when she realized that she wasn’t dead. Through the haze of pain, she managed to open her eyes. Everything was quite blurry, but she recognized the room she was in. The lighthouse painting gave it away.

Her bout of consciousness didn’t last long. She fell back into a daze, the pain coming in waves now.

The next time she opened her eyes, the room was bright. Too bright. It hurt her eyes. But she could turn her head to the side. Jimin was beside her. His eyes were closed and his body was twitching every now and then. There was an awful scar across his neck.

The third time she opened her eyes, the room was dark and there was a hand gripping her own. The pain was still there, but it was dull. There was a new feeling slowly clawing its way up her throat. Jimin was still lying beside her. They looked at each other. It was his hand that was in hers. His eyes looked scared; Catalina was sure she looked scared too. She was beginning to understand what was happening to her. And when she looked into Jimin’s eyes, her suspicions were confirmed. His eyes were bright red. Bloodshot and terrified, but his irises were red.

Voices were chattering over her, but they were faint and garbled, as if she were underwater. She wanted to say something to Jimin, but she still couldn’t move much. He looked like he wanted to speak too. She found that she could move her fingers, so she squeezed his hand, hoping it would provide some kind of comfort. He squeezed back. She felt a smile twitch at her lips before falling back into her sleep.

This sleep was painless, at least, as painless as it could get. There was a persistent soreness at the back of her throat, but otherwise, she was able to sleep peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Keep your feet planted and your knees bent,” Jungkook said. His hands were on her bare waist, his chest pressing up close to her to her back. She figured that wasn’t necessary, he didn’t do that to Hoseok, or Taehyung, but she certainly didn’t mind. Having him close meant she could hear his heart speed up. It meant she could smell the blood rushing to his face. It was cute. He was cute.

“When you’re on the water, and once you stand up and get your footing, just stay calm and let the wave move you,” he said. “It’s gonna feel like you’re falling at first, just keep your balance and carve your way down.”

“And if you fall off, it’s just the water,” said Jin, who was waxing his own board a few feet away. “No harm.”

“Right, no harm,” Jungkook said, his hand wandering to her butt.

She giggled and turned around to face him.

“Did Hoseok get this treatment when you taught him?” she asked with a wide smile on her face.

“Not that he would mind even a little bit,” said Jungkook. “But this is only reserved for my favorite students.”

“Ooh, so Jimin got this too,” Catalina said, winding her arms over his bare shoulders. He threw his head back and laughed. This was her favorite sound. The waves crashing along the beach, Jungkook’s laughter, his heart beating against hers. It was like her favorite song, a song she never wanted to end. 

Catalina leaned up to press her lips against his, the board wobbling in the sand beneath their feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pain in her throat was the thing to finally wake her up. She didn’t want to wake up, she was thoroughly enjoying her dream, but it was distracting. It was like waking up starving, but this hunger was all consuming. It was the only thing she could think about. She needed to take care of this first, before anything else.

When she opened her eyes, she was still in the same room. The lighthouse painting stared back at her, along with Taehyung’s other art. A charcoal sketch of Yoongi sprawled across a couch made her smile. She felt a body shift beside her. Jimin was still asleep, curled up to her side. Catalina pet his head, pushing his hair away from his face. His hair felt extra silky and his face was way prettier than she remembered. He had always been an attractive man, but he looked ethereal right now with his face relaxed and the morning sun illuminating his features.

Catalina sat up abruptly. She glanced at his neck. It was smooth and unblemished. No scar in sight. She felt her own neck. It felt smooth as well. She leapt off the bed and stumbled over to the vanity. Controlling her movements was difficult. There was a power behind every movement that she’s never felt before. It reminded her of playing a video game with the sensitivity on the controller turned all the way up.

She looked at herself in the mirror and let out a gasp. Her eyes were red, just like she suspected. Her skin was smoother than she’d ever seen it. Her hair was shiny and fuller than usual, laying just right over her shoulders and around her face. Radiant. She looked radiant. She wanted to keep looking at herself, but the craving she felt was getting distracting again. She needed to find something to satisfy it before she went insane.

That’s when she heard it. It was faint, very faint, but she was sure it was there. Downstairs. A heart was beating. A heart was pumping blood, which she could smell all the way from here. And it smelled divine. She needed, needed, to get a taste. She knew that if she could get a taste, the pain in the back of her throat would go away. The twisting in her stomach would subside.

She took one step toward the door before it swung open, revealing Taehyung.

“You’re awake,” he said with a smile.

“I need to go downstairs,” Catalina said.

Taehyung shook his head. “You shouldn’t. I’ll get you what you need up here.”

“I need to go down there,” she said again, moving toward the door. Taehyung closed it and put his back to it.

“No, you don’t,” he said, the smile falling from his face. “You don’t need to go down there. You will regret it if you go down there.”

Realization hit Catalina like a truck. That heartbeat belonged to someone. She didn’t want to hurt them, whoever it was. If she went down there, she most certainly wouldn’t be able to control herself.

“Who’s down there?” she asked. “I won’t go down there, I promise.”

Taehyung sighed and said, “It’s Jungkook. I told him it wasn’t a good idea to wait around here, but he insisted.”

Catalina felt her chest flutter. He was alive! He was here!

“Can I see him?” she asked. “I know I shouldn’t, but I promise I’ll control myself, you guys will be there…”

“That’s not a good idea right now,” said Taehyung. “Let me get you something to drink first, then we’ll talk. You look crazy right now.”

“No, I don’t!” she said, looking at herself in the mirror again. Her eyes were crazed, her pupils blown out bigger than the last time she saw herself in the mirror. Okay, maybe she did look crazy. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to see Jungkook just yet.

She turned back around, but Taehyung was gone. She went to the bed. Jimin was still sleeping soundly. He didn’t seem like he was in pain anymore. He looked peaceful, his little snores making Catalina’s nose scrunch in a smile.

Taehyung came back in with a full plastic grocery bag. He dumped it out onto the vanity and Catalina’s eyes widened. She lunged for one of the blood bags, not bothering with the valve on top. She bit right into it, her teeth piercing through without resistance. She gulped it down as fast as she could, squeezing every last drop from it. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Taehyung held the empty grocery bag out to her.

“In here please,” he said. “Don’t drip on my floor.”

Catalina threw her garbage into the bag and grabbed another one.

She sucked ten bags dry before finally feeling normal again.

Taehyung chuckled as he tied off the grocery bag and set it aside.

“You’re going to have to pee a million times later,” he said.

“Vampires pee?” she asked.

“I mean, yeah. Where do you think all that liquid goes?” he asked.

“I guess I never thought about that,” she said. “I’m starting to realize that vampirism isn’t as magical as I thought.”

“It’s really not,” said Taehyung. “Namjoon wrote some biology books on us. They’re in the library if you ever want to give them a read. I would highly suggest that.”

Catalina collapsed into the cushioned wicker chair in the corner. Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Jimin. He ran a gentle hand through Jimin’s hair, tucking it away from his eyes and letting his thumb brush against his cheek. All of a sudden, Catalina felt like she was intruding.

Jimin stirred, mumbling something under his breath and rolling onto his back. Taehyung took his hand and stroked his knuckles, keeping his eyes on Jimin’s sleeping face.

“Did you turn him?” Catalina asked. Taehyung nodded.

“It was selfish of me,” he said. “I know he didn’t want this, and I did it anyway. But I couldn’t lose him. Not again.”

“Again?” Catalina asked.

“I think he’s Adrianna,” said Taehyung. Catalina’s jaw dropped. He glanced up and noticed her shock. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Catalina shrugged.

“I do,” said Taehyung. “I think he might be Adrianna. He reminded me of her from the moment I met him. And if he isn’t, then he’s my second soulmate. People can have multiple soulmates, did you know that?”

“I never really believed in soulmates,” said Catalina.

               “Well, I do,” said Taehyung. “So, whatever the case is, I couldn’t lose him. He’s too important.”

               “I understand,” said Catalina, thinking of Jungkook. She wanted to see him. But she was worried she wouldn’t be able to control herself. Her craving was no longer overwhelming, but she could still smell him, and he smelled incredible. She could still hear his heart beating.

               “Who turned me?” she asked.

               “Hoseok,” said Taehyung.

               “Is he okay? I never saw him again since the beginning of the raid,” said Catalina.

               “He is okay,” said Taehyung. “He was hurt really badly during the fight, but he healed up fast. He’s downstairs if you want to see him.”

               “I want to see Jungkook,” said Catalina.

               “You need a chaperone for that,” said Taehyung. Catalina wanted to argue, but she knew he was right.

               Just then, Jimin’s eyes fluttered open.

               “Taehyungie?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

               “I’m right here, Jiminie,” said Taehyung, smiling down at him.

               “I’ll go find Hoseok,” Catalina said, slipping out the door. Neither of them seemed to have heard her.

[organabanana]

you're not saved until you leave this place | harley/ivy

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: DCU (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel

Additional Tags: Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Abusive Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Mild Blood

Series: Part 1 of the 2021 Writing Challenge series

Summary: Harley Quinn - she's not Harleen Quinzel anymore - has just been saved by Poison Ivy. The problem is Poison Ivy doesn't think Harley can really be saved. I just finished reading Harleen by Stjepan Sejic and I'm feeling A Certain Way. Reading it first is encouraged (and recommended because it's amazing) but not necessary to know what's going on.

Notes: This is not meant to be particularly true to any canonical storyline beyond using Harleen (the comic) as a starting point. I took the liberty of taking bits and pieces from different storylines because I could.Written for the prompt "I should be in pain . . . . . why am I not in pain?” for week 4 of the 2021 writing challenge made by @butterbee-writes.

[ao3 link]

Harley regains her consciousness slowly, as if she was struggling to emerge from an ocean of molasses. What a strange image, an ocean of molasses. That’s what it feels like, though. Thick and sticky and dark. As her senses begin to work once again, though, Harley realizes wherever she is smells nothing like molasses at all. It smells both fresh and damp somehow. Like she imagines a rainforest might smell like. Green and thick with life. And then there’s something else. Lighter. Floral, even. Jasmine, maybe?

“Doctor Quinzel.”

The woman’s voice doesn’t immediately ring a bell, but it feels familiar somehow. Under different circumstances, she’s sure she could figure it out. But Harley’s tired of fighting the not-really-molasses threatening to swallow her brain whole. She can’t play detective right now.

“Doctor Quinz—“

“It’s Harley,” she interrupts, her voice hoarse like she’s using it for the first time after a night of hard liquor. This doesn’t feel like a hangover, though. And she doesn’t feel like Doctor Quinzel anymore.

“Open your eyes.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” This may not be a hangover, but her head still feels like it’s balancing precariously on the edge of the kind of headache that drives people to insanity.

Heh.

Like she needs a headache for that.

“Your eyes might be damaged. I don’t have all day.”

The woman’s tone is hard to read. Somewhere between annoyed and caring, somehow. Like she wishes she didn’t care, but she does anyway. Harley can sympathize.

“Damaged by what?” Harley asks, already opening her eyes and struggling to focus. All she sees is varying shades of green. “What happened?”

The woman doesn’t speak. Harley sees a blurred light among the greens and feels that flowery smell grow stronger when the woman leans closer to her face. It reminds her of her time as Arkham’s psychiatrist, asking questions and being ignored. And that’s when it clicks. Arkham. Of course.

“Ms. Isley?”

“Ivy.”

Under different circumstances, Harley might have taken offense at the sharp tone of Pamela Isley’s correction. But she’s not exactly in a position to pick a fight with a supervillain, and - if she’s being perfectly honest - this may be the third or fourth time Ivy’s corrected her since they first met. No wonder she’s annoyed.

“What happened?”

“Your eyes are fine. Your vision may be blurry for a while. I assume your glasses are still in the acid. What’s left of them, anyway.”

“Acid? What aci—“

Harley’s eyes widen even if she still can’t quite see. The acid. The vat of acid, and Jay’s hands around Harley’s wrists, and his smile… and then the searing pain. She brings her hands up with some effort, and even with her limited vision she can see they look bleached white. And yet…

“I should be in pain…  Why am I not in pain?” She should also be in some major emotional distress, given the circumstances, but she’s more or less given up on her own mental stability these days.

“My abilities aren’t limited to toxins, Harley. You’re enjoying a very good, very potent, all-natural anesthetic.”

“You saved me?” Harley wonders, briefly, whether she has any right to sound this surprised when this is the second time Pamela Isley has done just that. Save her. “Thank you.”

“Like I told you last time, don’t thank me yet,” Ivy says, and there’s a certain emotion in her tone (Dr. Quinzel might have been able to define it, but she’s not around anymore) that makes her sound nearly human, “you’re only truly saved—“

“If I leave Arkham. I remember.” Those words haunted Harley’s nightmares for weeks. “But I left. This isn’t Arkham, is it?”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches for longer than it should, somehow. Like Ivy’s having to really think to figure out whether they are in Arkham or they aren’t.

“This isn’t Arkham,” Ivy finally says, “but you haven’t left.”

“What do you mean, I haven’t le—“

“I really don’t have all day, Harley.” That emotion — that near humanity — is completely gone from Ivy’s voice now. “Do you have a place to stay while you recover?”

“Yeah. I can- I can stay at Jay’s.” What does it say about her, that she doesn’t even hesitate to name the man who threw her in a vat of acid as her emergency contact of sorts?

If she was still working, she’d write a thesis on herself.

Pamela Isley doesn’t say anything else, and for a moment Harley wonders if she’s been alone all this time and her admittedly off-kilter brain simply hallucinated a beautiful, jasmine-scented supervillain for her to talk to. It wouldn’t surprise her. Nothing does anymore.

With some effort, Harley sits up and notices where she’s been laying all this time. It’s not a bed — not a normal one, anyway — but it’s soft and comfortable. It’s somehow both cool and cozy, and… alive, somehow. Like moss, but not quite. Which fits, because Pamela Isley happens to be human, almost, but not quite.

Harley doesn’t necessarily mean that in a bad way.

“What did you mean?” Harley says, looking at the blurry outline of Ms. Isley’s — Ivy’s — back. Her eyes are getting used to the light, and she’s pretty sure the current lack of focus is mostly due to her glasses being gone. “When you said I haven’t left?”

“You shouldn’t get up yet. You’ll faint, and pheromones won’t fix a cracked skull.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you want to call him to come pick you up?” Ivy pauses for a second, like she’s reconsidering her own words. “Does he even have a phone?”

“I—“

Harley clamps her mouth shut. She doesn’t know if Jay has a phone. She knows the exact location of every scar on his body. She knows exactly what to say and do to make him smile. She knows she can help him — fix him doesn’t sound nearly as good — and she knows she belongs with him. In his world. But she doesn’t know if he has a phone.

The giggles come before she can stop them. It’s not funny, but she’s laughing. She can’t stop. It feels almost like… like in a different life she’d be sobbing instead, but all she can do is laugh.

And it’s cathartic. Like a good, loud, heart-shattering crying session. Like a night of binge-drinking to quiet her thoughts. The laughter grows louder, shriller and more unhinged as she thinks about Dr. Harleen Quinzel no longer existing. Not just because Harley says so, but because she melted along with her glasses when Mr. Jay shoved Harley into that vat. She thinks about a job and a life she’ll never go back to. About the fact that she doesn’t know if Jay has a phone, but she knows the exact sound a skull makes when a mallet cracks it open.

It’s not funny, but she’s laughing. And when she stops, she feels different somehow. Like she’s laughed whatever was left of Harleen Quinzel away.

“Are you done?”

Pamela Isley isn’t laughing. She’s not even smiling. She’s just staring, in silence, like she either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that being in silence is a recipe for thinking. And thinking… well. There’s nothing fun about that. Can you blame her for trying to entertain herself somehow?

“So. Pam.”

“What did you just call me?”

Pamela Isley is suddenly dangerously close. It may not be jasmine after all. It’s something… earthier. She’s so close Harley doesn’t need her glasses to see the dangerous glint in bright green eyes.

Harley could push it. She tilts her head to one side, smiling faintly as she ponders what would happen if she said it again. Would Pamela Isley kill her, if Harley called her Pam again? And, more importantly, would that be so bad, all things considered?

“Sorry,” she finally says, making sure the mocking tone is audible in her voice, “I figured saving my life twice would’ve kinda put us on a first name basis.”

“Not quite.”

“Right. Well, Ms. Isley—”

“It’s Ivy!”

Pamela Isley — Poison Ivy — raises her voice. Harley swears the plants around them grow, like they’re getting ready to attack her the second Ivy orders them to.

Except she doesn’t.

Does this count as saving Harley’s life a third time? Choosing not to off her when she could’ve?

“Why do you keep saving me?”

“Excuse me?” Ivy takes one step back, and it’s like the greenery deflates just so. Like it’s all lost steam all of a sudden.

“You heard me,” Harley shrugs, carefully standing up and noticing the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing for the first time, “why do you keep doing it? Not too super-villainy of you, if you ask me.”

The more time she spends with her eyes open, the better she seems to see. Can acid burn somehow fix someone’s vision? She’ll have to tell Mr. Jay about the  potential untapped marked in back-alley lasik surgery.

“I wouldn’t call myself a super-villain.”

“Your file at Arkham sure would.”

“Would it? And what does his file say?”

Harley stops staring at an exotic-looking flower to glare at Ivy instead. His file is wrong. His file is the result of a series of biased psychiatrists with questionable methods. They didn’t know him like she does. Nobody does. She’s the only one who understands.

He needs her. She can help.

“And what will yours say, Harley Quinzel?”

“I don’t have a—“

“Oh,” Ivy lets out a chuckle and it kind of feels like Harley figures being hit with her mallet might, “but you will.”

Harley licks her lips. Will she? Will she have a file at Arkham? Have a shrink sit across from her, on the other side of a bulletproof glass, and ask her what went wrong and when? Will she have to talk about Jay’s smile and his scars and the way he pressed her up against the padded wall of the interrogation room?

Will they call her call her a sociopath, too?

Probably. They’ll be wrong, though. She does feel remorse when she kills. It’s just she’d rather feel that than the absence of him.

“So don’t thank me, Harley. I never saved you.”

~*~

Harley doesn’t remember what she used to look like anymore. Harleen Quinzel may as well have never existed. It’s been three years since she fell into that vat of acid — it sounds better than saying someone threw her in, doesn’t it? — and so much has happened in her life that she can’t remember anything from before she was Harley Quinn anymore.

She’s been in Arkham… a number of times. Let’s leave it at that. She’s still with Jay. Mostly. On and off. Mostly on, though, other than that nine-month break she took for personal reasons when she went to stay with her sister Delia.

Mostly, though. Mostly, they’re on. And they’re so good when they are. Mostly. Mostly good.

You wouldn’t get it. Only she gets it. Only she gets him.

“Hey, Red?”

Ivy doesn’t even look up from whatever science-y stuff she’s working on, and Harley doesn’t really mind. They’re best pals. They don’t need eye contact to communicate.

“Why d’ya hate him?” Jay finds her new accent cute, like her higher-pitched voice and her red-and-black leotard.

“Huh?” Harley can feel Ivy’s frown even if she’s currently looking at the back of her head. “Who are we talking about?”

“Mistah Jay.”

She can feel the sour expression on Ivy’s face without seeing it, too.

“I don’t remember having said I hate him.”

“Ya don’t need to. I can just tell, y’know.”

“Can you.” Sometimes Ivy does that thing when she asks a question but her tone isn’t really question-y. Kinda cute, if you ask Harley. Over the years she’s grown to see many of the things about Ivy most people find intimidating are actually pretty dang cute.

“Yeah,” Harley stands up from her favorite moss-covered pouf (Ivy took offense last time Harley called it a beanbag chair) and sits on the edge of Ivy’s desk instead, “kinda like how ya don’t have to say it for me to know ya love me, Red.”

Ivy doesn’t smile, but her skin does. It turns this vibrant green and Harley knows it means Ivy’s smiling on the inside. It’s a whole thing. Just trust her, all right? She knows her Red.

“So. Why d’ya hate him?”

Ivy looks up from whatever botanical gibberish she’s been writing and stares into Harley’s eyes like she’s trying to read her mind.

Good thing her Puddin’s right when he says it’s mostly empty space in there, right?

Heh.

“You should’ve paid more attention when you worked at Arkham, Harley.”

Ivy stands up and leaves Harley there, dumbfounded and confused, because what does that even mean? She doesn’t even remember those months. She didn’t even think Ivy remembered. Had they ever even interacted back then? All she remembers are her… sessions, with Jay.

“Hey, wait! Come on, don’t be mean!”

Ivy rolls her eyes at Harley like she’s being overly dramatic (she isn’t), and starts collecting samples from this pots and plants.

“Why won’t you just tell me? Come on, it’s been forever, I don’t rem—“

The happy sound of a circus fanfare comes from outside Ivy’s lair, and Harley knows exactly what it means.

“Saved by the… honk, Red.” Harley winks, grabbing her mallet and putting on her hat. She can drop the subject for now. There’ll be more times. “I’ll bring ya somethin’ pretty from the heist, yeah?”

“Be safe.”

Harley’s already skipping towards the exit, but she turns around just to blow Ivy a kiss. “See? I knew ya loved me, Red.”

Ivy doesn’t just smile with her skin this time.

~*~

Harley watches the trial from the couch in the apartment she shares with Ivy and their (Ivy will deny it, but Harley knows she loves them) hyenas. It’s a happy little life. After so many years of super-villainy, switching sides has been kind of weird.

Well.

They haven’t switched completely. Just ask Batman. But they’re cool with the Batfolk now. Mostly. They promise to keep casualties to a minimum (she vaguely remembers Batman insisting on zero, but that’s a ballpark number, she’s sure) and help them catch the really bad guys, and in exchange they’re mostly free to do as they please.

It’s kind of weird, watching a trial on TV. A real trial, she means. But she figures when the person being judged is famous enough — and hated enough — it makes sense. And Gotham doesn’t hate anyone as much as they hate Jay.

He doesn’t look scared or nervous at all. Maybe he figures he’ll get out again whenever he pleases. But Bats said that’s not happening this time. Not with all the evidence Harley provided. Having bested it a dozen times herself, Harley can’t say she trusts Arkham’s security system that much. But it doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t really care.

“Ugh, commercial break. Can ya believe it?” Harley scritches Lou’s ear and nudges Bud off the couch so she can stand up. “They can call it a recess all they like, we all know the judge needed to pee.”

She chuckles to herself on the way to the kitchen for a glass of water, and on her way back her gaze lands on the carton box Bats gave her when they made their deal. The one full to the brim with everything that used to be in her and Ivy’s files at Arkham.

And she’s about to flop back onto the couch when a little tape recorder catches her attention instead. Her old tape recorder, from about two lifetimes ago, when she still wore a white coat and was called Dr. Quinzel.

“Let’s see who’s in this tape,” she says out loud as she presses the rewind button, and the two hyenas sit at her feet like they’re waiting for the best kind of treat, “maybe it’ll be Uncle Swamp Thing!”

But when the tape begins to play, the voice that fills the room is Ivy’s instead.

“Oh, jackpot!” Harley grins, muting the television to put her full focus on the preserved moment from over ten years ago. She kinda knows how the trial ends, anyway. Bats spoilered her.

“I do appreciate it, you know… the fact that you’re using a recorder instead of paper.”

Ivy sounds so different. Harley wishes she could remember the conversation, but all she has from those months are snippets of moments with him.

“Others before you had different methods. One of my previous doctors, he brought a potted plant.”

“Well, that’s nice of him, right boys? Mama loves a plant.”

“Watered it with bleach in front of me.”

Harley gasps, both at the cruelty of what she’s hearing and the fact that she suddenly has the answer to the question she asked so many times over the years. Why did Ivy hate Jay so much?

Harley looks at her bleached skin and can’t help but grin. She’s the one thing Pam loves as much as she loves her plants.

“…Doctor, your hormones are elevated. Every time you smile, you blush. Usually, I have to kiss a person to elicit such a response…”

If she could still blush, she would. She feels her cheeks burn anyway, because back then it wasn’t her girlfriend making her hormones get elevated (or whatever the Ivy from the past just said) but now… well. Now she elevates them plenty.

But more than that, she realizes, suddenly, exactly what Ivy meant when she insisted Harley could not be saved until she left Arkham. How could she really leave when Jay still owned most of her heart?

“They didn’t have double decker poptarts, Peanut. Are you sure they even exist?” Ivy interrupts Harley’s moment of reflection by walking into the apartment carrying several grocery bags and sending the boys into a flurry of excitement. “The lady at the register looked at me like I’d just asked for dragon eggs, so— wait. What are you listening to? Is that me?”

Harley nods, even if she knows Ivy can’t see her while she’s bent over leaving all the grocery bags on the counter.

“What is it? Is that from— oh.”

“Mhmm,” Harley grins, stopping the recording for now. She has the real life version of Ivy right here, so she doesn’t need the past at all. “Ya liked me already back then, huh, Pammy?”

Ivy rolls her eyes, but Harley knows. She knows she did.

“Where’d you get the tape?”

“Bats brought all that over,” Harley points in the general direction of the box, “said we can have it since we’re no longer the baddies.”

Ivy looks in the box and seems genuinely surprised when her gaze returns to Harley once again. “Our files?”

“Mhmm. All of it. Gone.”

It’s only when she tells Ivy that it fully registers for Harley, too. Their files are gone. No more Arkham.

Somewhere in her peripheral vision, she can see the trial’s back on the air. He’s going back in, and she… she wouldn’t say she doesn’t care at all. But she’s not going in with him. Her heart’s not his anymore.

She’s left.

“Pammy?”

Pam doesn’t look up from her hands as they rummage through the contents of the box, but she doesn’t need to. Harley knows she’s listening.

“Thank you.”

“Why?” Ivy looks at Harley then, frowning slightly in confusion. “I wasn’t the one who negotiated with Wayne.”

“No, I know.” Harley smiles and walks over, just to be closer. To smell the jasmine on her girlfriend’s skin. “But you saved me. A couple times. So thank you.”

And for the very first time, Harley’s pretty sure she’s figured something out before her (very smart, super quick-on-her-feet) girlfriend. Because Ivy looks at the box again, and at the muted TV where the trial is still happening, and then at Harley… and she smiles.

“You’re welcome, Harls.”

[k1nky-fool]

In Loving Memory

Part 1/?

Shouta Aizawa x OC

Rating: Teen (this is subject to change chapter to chapter)

Warnings: not beta read, bad spur of the moment choices, one character's existential crisis seen from an outsider's point of view, and purposely bad fashion sense.

Taglist: I'm dropping this in a discord channel too, so hi my dudes! And if you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to send in an ask, or PM me!

Author's Note: I really just want to make sure I get this chapter out. Because I want to have a small platonic one-shot with my OC Shizune Kiokuro and Mirio Togata for his birthday tomorrow that's set after the Overhaul arc. For angsty bitter sweet reasons. I should have that out tomorrow.

He felt a little bad for it. To be fair she had walked in wearing something that just threw him into a fight or flight response. She looked absolutely unhinged and deranged. Shouta could relate, but it made him activate his quirk immediately. He thought he had better control than this, and he managed to catch himself before anything major happened and before anyone could notice. But the woman had frozen in place and looked around like she was trying to find the source of whatever had caused the strange feeling.

Her eyes caught Shouta's and she looked him up and down with tired eyes. She shrugged him off and sat down in a seat at the table. He figured she was the new hero course third year hire after the last Investigations teacher retired.

This new year would be quite a lot. Several new teachers were joining the UA staff this year, including but not limited to All Might, and whoever this jarring woman was. It was enough to have Hizashi here to fill the role of obnoxious staff, but now there would be All Might?

Then there was this woman with a neon green mohawk and she's wearing an orange, green, and purple bowling shirt tied into a crop top, hot pink jean shorts and… are those fucking Crocs? Shouta himself couldn't be bothered to care anymore, but it was unusual that he was the only one seeming to notice something this bizarre.

"As many of you have heard, we are welcoming Toshinori Yagi to our staff this year, but All Might is not our only new addition. We also have Kiokuro Shizune joining the third year staff." Nezu happily introduced.

Everyone turned to see Shizune and she smiled brightly. Now it finally seemed that everyone was noticing her. A few teachers looked at her with disgust. Some were staring in surprise. Others just weirded out. Shizune, for her part, just chuckled at the wide array of reactions until everyone had gotten their eyeful and looked away.

None of the previous reactions stayed on their faces. And nobody bothered to look back at her. That much was odd. At least Nemuri would look back a few times and whisper about it to whoever was sitting next to her.

For the rest of the meeting, nobody looked back at her, as though she had completely faded into the background of an arcade floor someone had vomited every slushie imaginable onto. There wasn't much meeting to focus on beyond the full class files that every teacher was given at the beginning of the year. Shouta wouldn't be bothered to read it. He didn't want to have any preconceived notions about any of his students before he met them. They would have to make their first impressions count.

Shouta kept finding his gaze back at Shizune. She just sat there like a clown, tilting her chair back with a bored expression on her face. She didn't seem to think anyone was paying her any attention.

The exact second Nezu dismissed the meeting, she was gone. He wasn't going to bother talking to her, but the speed in which she was already out the door was almost impressive. But the less time he had to spend getting to know her the better.

He had a lot of work to do before his students showed up in class next week. He got back to his computer and started up. He hated the paperwork, but he had known what he was in for when he started.

"Say, Aizawa." Fucking Nemuri. "How do you think All Might's gonna fit in here?"

"He can worry about that himself."

"Oh come on, you don't even wanna know why he's suddenly decided to teach classes?" She asked. "I mean, the number one hero suddenly settling down to teach some brats? Gotta be the most bizarre thing we've seen."

"He wasn't the most bizarre thing about that meeting." He sighed. "Go home, Kayama."

"Oh? What was the most bizarre thing about that meeting?" She asked.

"Either you're blind or just stupid. Go home." He said again.

Suddenly Nemuri was all the more confused. "What did I miss?"

"The clown in the corner." Shouta deadpanned. "You'll get along well."

"The hell are you talking about? Are you ok?" Nemuri reached for his forehead, but he leaned out of the way.

"I'm fine. You can leave."

"Alright, fine." She shrugged off. "I'm going."

Finally, quiet. He liked being the only one in the office no matter how late it was. Being the last one here was worth it.

At least he wished he was the last one here. Meandering steps that thudded ever so softly on the floor. He didn't even bother to look up, knowing the colors on their shirt would give him a headache.

"Evening, Kiokuro." He acknowledged. It would be worse if she didn't know he was here.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Not saying a word. A beat of silence went by before she said anything. "How the fuck did you do that?" Her voice quivered.

"Do what?" He still didn't bother to look up at her.

"How did you know it was me? You're not looking at me." She asked.

"Your crocs make a dumb swishing sound on the floor. Your steps are quick and soft because you don't weigh a whole lot. And you walk around like you're not heading anywhere in particular, so you make strange noises, but over a large surface area. Not in a straight line." He explained like she should already know this. "I remember how you walked into the meeting."

Shizune stomped over to the side of his desk and forced his chair toward her. Fine. Guess he's not getting any work done. He finally conceded to looking up at her.

She still wore the outrageous outfit from earlier. However, her expression was one of complete fear as her eyes frantically searched his face. "Are you fucking with me?"

"What?"

"People don't remember me, Aizawa." She said, "How the fuck did you know it was me without looking up and keeping me in your line of sight?"

"What are you talking about?"

She took a step back, seeming to think something over. "My quirk." She began. "When I'm in your line of sight, you know me, you see me. But the second I'm not in your line of sight, you forget me. It is impossible for people to remember me without looking at me. If I'm not being looked at, I don't exist to anyone but myself."

"You're a stealth hero." He noted.

"Yeah. I'm the perfect stealth hero." She snapped. "So how the hell do you remember me?"

Shouta stood up, glaring down at her. "My quirk is to erase quirks."

"Oh.. you're Eraserhead." She noted. "That must have been what I felt in the meeting room. Why did you feel the need to erase my quirk the second you saw me?"

"Your shirt gave me a headache. My first thought was that it was a threat." He deadpanned.

"Oh… well that's kind of the point… but that means that it never got the chance to lock onto you. Which means the next time you looked at me, there was nothing to remember, because you hadn't forgotten. Wait then that means…" Shizune paused.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Shouta shrugged off, leaving her staring off into space. "Go home, Kiokuro." He called back as he closed the door behind him.

-X-

It was another week and a half before he had seen her again. Only two days after classes had started. He didn't want to be here, especially not while there were still students in the classroom.

Shouta had come to collect the uniform reports that All Might had left behind. All he had to do was take them down to the support department, then he could go home. But Iida, Midoriya, and Ururaka were staying late on a Friday afternoon, cleaning the classroom. They were almost done by the looks of it.

"Hi, Mr. Aizawa!" Ururaka greeted. He gave her a wave, going straight to the podium where All Might said he left the reports.

His stomach jumped when a knife flew past his face. His scarf was activated immediately, and wrapped around the assailant's wrist. But it was in vain. They had taken his scarf in their grip and jumped into the air, spinning and pulling him toward them. In one move, they kicked him back into the wall.

He grunted in pain, but his eye caught the obnoxious colors of his attacker.

"Mr. Aizawa!" Midoriya was up and ready to fight, but Shouta held up a hand to stop any of the students from attacking her.

They all waited for him to do something, so he just stood against the wall as she held a knife to his neck, staring her in the eyes. "You kids can head out. Ms. Kiokuro and I have something to discuss."

"But Mr. Aizawa, sir…" Iida began to protest, but must have come to a different conclusion. "Of course. Let's go." The other two followed him out of the classroom. They wouldn't remember this, and Shizune would be safe.

"Alright… you got me alone, now what do you want, Kiokuro?" He grumbled.

She bit out a laugh. "Now, you see- hmm honestly I-" it took her a brief moment to gather herself, and he probably would be more comfortable without the knife at his neck. He lifted his hand to move it away, but she kept it in place. "Ah, yes." She nodded. "You are driving me insane."

"That's unfortunate. Can you get the knife out of my face?" He asked.

"No." She pushed him again back into the wall. "Listen here, fucker-"

"My name is Shouta."

"You are officially 'fucker' until we figure this out." She commanded.

"Great. I could think a lot better if you took the knife out of my face."

"Shut up." She ordered, but let out a breath in annoyance. Shizune resigned to putting the knife back on her belt. "Alright, look… I really want nothing more than to go on about my life and forget you exist, just like everyone does for me."

"Then do it."

"Now, that's the problem! I feel safe knowing that there is nobody that has any memory of me. But you-! You." She laughed, pulling the knife out of the wall and holding it back at his neck. "Every time I think I'm safe, I'm reminded that you remember me."

"Why the fuck-"

"I don't trust you, Shouta." She hissed. "I don't trust you with the memory of me."

"Why don't you?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because I don't know you? Or because there's no reason I should trust you?" Shizune argued. "Really it's because you're not special."

"Well clearly I am." He said. "Because whether you like it or not, I do remember you. And there's no way to fix that."

"Now, Shouta, that's the wrong answer. Because I can fix it by beating it out of your head, and I can then rest easy knowing that there's nobody in the world that will ever find out." She said.

"But you're not going to do that." He figured. "You could have killed me when you first attacked me. Even in front of the students, it wouldn't have mattered. But you're a pro-hero."

Shizune let out a sigh and took the second knife away from his face. "So what can I even do about you, Shouta?" She began pacing the floor, rubbing the buzzed sides of her head. "I can't just leave you with my memory because I tried that for a week and it's driven me insane. I can't sleep knowing someone could be thinking about me, even if you physically couldn't care less if you tried. It's not a matter of if you are or aren't, it's a problem that you can at all."

"Alright, calm down, Shizune." He noted that in this little squabble they had somehow come to a first name basis and that novelty wasn't wasted on him. Very few people got this far, let alone in such a short amount of time.

"It's not easy to calm down about this. It's been almost fifteen years since I've had to trust someone with the memory of me." She was going to start rambling if he let her keep going.

"It's ok. Don't worry about that yet. Now, tell me why again you don't trust me." He said.

"Because I never trust anyone. You're not different, you're not special. But as of a week ago, you are the only person on the planet that knows who I am." She explained.

"Alright, so we've established that you don't trust me any more than everyone else. Which is understandable. I met you a week ago." He followed along. "But since I do remember you, and we don't have a way to fix that beyond extreme violence, we need to figure something else out. You said there was no reason you should trust me. In the event of someone having memory of you, what would make you trust them with that information?'

Shizune thought for a second. "I need to know that person won't tell others about me. I need to be a complete secret."

"That's great, because I don't want to talk to anyone about you." He deadpanned.

"But how can I be sure that you won't be convinced by one of your friends to talk about me? How do I know that Yamada or Kayama can't ask the right question to get you to talk about me?"

"First, I'm an underground hero, just like you. If you don't want anyone to know about you, then nobody will know about you." He promised. "And second, I don't even want to tell them about myself, let alone make an effort to tell them about you."

"Fair enough…" She shrugged. "But I still don't know you. For all I know you could be lying about this."

"And for that, we'll have to trust each other." Shouta figured. "How about I give you a piece of information about me that I don't want people knowing?"

"You would do that?"

"I don't want to, but it's fair. I'd be essentially letting you hold me hostage." He explained. "If someone ends up knowing about you in any way that you haven't given them, then you have this information to do what you want with."

Shizune looked him up and down. "What makes you think I need something true to do that?"

"You don't, but this is supposed to be a gesture of trust."

"Oh yeah…." She remembered. "You do realize it'll have to be something genuinely secret. Something you would literally rather die than have other people know about."

"Which is the issue. I don't think there's anything I would have a problem with other people knowing."

Immediately Shizune lit up with a wicked smile across her face. His students should be glad he doesn't smile like that. "I bet I can find something."

"I will bet you can't." He deadpanned. "Not that I think your investigation skills are lacking, there's just nothing for you to find."

"More mysterious men than you have said that to me and been so. very. wrong." She chuckled, taking a step closer to him. He didn't like the sound of that, but if it meant she could find something that would make her less of a lunatic, then he would let her investigate.

"If you're that confident in yourself, then you have my permission to poke around in my life until you find something." Shouta allowed. "But I don't think you needed my permission in the first place."

"Eh, I don't stalk people unless I need to for work." She shrugged. "I'll see you around."

Shizune was gone, but once again, there was no change in Shouta's memory of her. If she could find something that he cared so heavily about, he wondered what it would be. What would an outside investigator determine to be the most important part of his life?

[buffyversefanfiction]

Slayer of Slayers

Warnings:I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation.

15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft.

M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

PART NINE LINK HERE

Part Ten: Prophecy's Boy

Theo Frey’s affiliation with the first slayer was a strange one, his entire life mission was to become a slayer to eradicate all slayers, especially his birth mother Buffy Summers, and yet during a prehistoric time when everything and everyone was stripped away from him he had reluctantly formed some form of friendship with the primeval Sineya, bonding through their chaotic creation and so he joined her on some of her adventures in slaying until he was brought back to the present time, back to his current grievances, and surrounded by those ready for him to take his revenge. Theo never realized how deeply Sineya impacted her life until he saw her spirit on vampire island, her serving as a reminder to him of a simpler time where he lived his life without vengeance and how that led him to do good alongside the first slayer until he returned to evil crutches of vampire Drusilla and as the vampire/slayer hybrid stood right next to the unopened Hellmouth in the caves of vampire island, being surrounded by an undead army, he couldn’t help but think of the time he spent with Sineya. “They only call you a king because they do not truly know what you really are neither do you yet,” Sineya said to him through her telepathic ways, her words piercing his mind as she appeared as a spirit only, he could see, standing next to him. “Slayer of slayers is just another name, Theo, nothing but a name but none are what you really are…this is now what you truly are.” Theo looked around at his undead army to see if anyone else could see the first slayer knowing deep down that she was only appearing to him, appealing to a good side of him he thought he could bury forever, as she urged him to not bring about the end of the world, to change his ways, and accept his true destiny. “They need to pay they need to all pay!” Theo shouted, grabbing the attention of his fellow vampires who instantly cheered him on, believing that his words were words of war before he would proceed to open the Hellmouth. “They have paid the price already, as have you, and even her…there’s nothing left to pay except your destiny, and this is not it!” The primeval one replied to him telepathically with her cryptic words being said in his mind. “Your blood and your blood alone will open the mouth of hell, but you are so much more than your blood, a prophecy has been calling you long before your birth it is up to you if you want to continue ignoring it for a mission of vengeance or if you want to become what you were truly created to be.” Suddenly, Sineya’s spirit disappeared once again as Buffy, Faith, Angel, Spike, Illyria, Xander, Ruby, and Giles ran into the caves to meet Theo and his army, all equipped with weapons and ready to go to war if needed to stop Theo from opening the Hellmouth, as the slayer of slayer realized that one way or another, he was not making it out of Vampire Island alive…

Theo and his dedicated team of vampires fought against Buffy, Faith, Angel, Spike, Illyria, Xander, Ruby, and Giles viciously as Theo himself went head to head with the blue-haired goddess Illyria, the one who killed his undead lover Tobias, throwing a series of punches and kicks at the old one, making little to no impact, before Illyria proceeded to fight back against the slayer of slayers gaining the upper hand with ease as she showed her superior strength while beating Theo into submission as he fell to the ground, ready to be killed by the same woman who had killed the love of his life, but Angel quickly left his ongoing fight to rush over to his son’s side, eager to save him from being killed by Illyria. “He is my son Illyria, please do not kill my son.” Angel pleaded with his friend, who reluctantly began to walk away from both Angel and Theo before taking to fight in the ongoing war surrounding them. “I may have your DNA or whatever but you’re not my father, you never raised me as my dad did, you weren’t there like he was, and you will never take his place.” Theo snapped at his undead father as he slowly got back to his feet, bruised, and bloodied from injuries he had sustained in his fight against the blue-haired goddess. “You look pretty beaten up; she really did a number on you huh?” Angel replied, choosing to ignore his son’s cruel words. “I know you a slaypire or whatever now but somehow you managed to keep your soul, I’ve never heard of a vampire doing that before I mean I have a soul, but I’m cursed…literally. Yet again you are also the first male slayer, which is another mystery.” “We’ve come too far to stop now my army will not stop until my blood opens that Hellmouth over there…unless there is no blood to be spilled,” Theo responded, as he began to realize that he still had the chance to do the right thing, something which was only validated when the spirit of the primeval slayer appeared to him once again, this time standing next to Angel, who was oblivious of her presence. This time Sineya did not have to communicate telepathically with the slayer of slayers because the look on her face told Theo everything he had to know, her look told him that he had forced a destiny on himself that was never truly meant to be and now all he was left to do was decide whether he let that same destiny lead to him destroying the world or if he was able to do the right thing for the first time, as he suddenly began to finally feel his own humanity beginning to creep back in, as he felt all the pain and suffering he caused to his many victims, through his many evil deeds, as he concluded there was the only way to make up any kind of penance for the monster he had become. “You are right,” Theo admitted to the spirit of Sineya, confusing an unknowing Angel in the process. “There’s only one way my blood cannot be spilled and that is if there is none.” Theo quickly grabbed the wooden stake he spotted in Angel’s jacket pocket and plunged it into his own chest knowing that turning to dust was the only solution out of the hell he would otherwise cause onto this world, leaving his biological father Angel in a state of pure shock and horror as he screamed out “No” with the strength of all his voice, catching Buffy’s attention who turned away from her fight just in time to watch alongside Angel as the son they shared together turned to dust before their very eyes. Suddenly, a red smoke, like the one that had turned Theo into a slayer, formed above Theo’s ashes before it began to spread itself throughout the cave growing bigger as it did so, proceeding to attack, ingest, violate, and turn Theo’s undead army into bursts of flames before they eventually turned to dust leaving Buffy, Angel, and their friends stunned by their bittersweet victory, one that came at a great cost.

The End…NOT

“Hello?” Theo called out as he walked into a darkly lit rundown bar, before noticing a sign saying Willy’s Place, as he proceeded to walk over to the bar counter noticing the place was completely empty, the vibe completely dead, as he began to wonder if this was hell, heaven, or something in-between, when suddenly he felt a warm feeling rush through him, that which felt like love in its purest form and as he turned out he was shocked to find a woman stood behind him, with the softest smile he had ever seen. “You may not know me but I’m your grandmother, from your mother’s side.” Joyce greeted her stepson, the two have never met before. “I know this all must be very confusing for you but I’m here to help while I can.” “Not to be rude or anything but are you not supposed to be like dead or something?” Theo replied as he struggled to get his head around whatever the hell was going on. “Well yes, but then again so are you.” Joyce laughed off innocently. “You know you look a lot like your father, but you have your mother’s heart, no matter how much you try to hide it and that smile of yours is truly beautiful I just wish there were more opportunities for you to show the world that smile.” “They are not my parents; my parents died a long time ago and I am sorry, but you are not my grandmother either.” Theo snapped at his biological grandmother, although his snap was nowhere near as bitter as it once was. “Is this hell?” “No honey it is not hell nor is it heaven, consider this your second chance,” Joyce informed him cryptically. “You walked a path you were never meant to walk and the powers that be are just trying to get you back onto the right path, instead of fighting for another destiny why not try embracing the one that’s already yours?” Theo had no idea what Joyce Summers meant by her words but before he could ask her, he found himself magically being transported from Willy’s Place in the now non-existent Sunnydale to the rundown Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles, where he walked into the lobby to find a beautiful dark blonde-haired woman stood behind the reception desk with a bright smile on her face that told him she was expecting him. “So, you are my guy’s second son I get vampires normally do not have to worry about you know condoms and stuff, but you’d think after the first son tried to kill, he’d wrap it up from there on out but then again if he’s not worried about losing his soul then he’s probably now worrying about impregnating people.” Cordelia Chase said, greeting Theo as he walked over to her. “You’re all kinds of messed up perhaps more so than Connor and he was raised in a freaking hell dimension by some unhinged hunter who very rudely blew up my friend’s club with us in it nonetheless but hey at least you’re not as bad as Angelus now that is the part of your father that you do not want to take after!” “So, which ghost from Buffy or Angel’s past are you then? Are you Angel’s mother?” Theo asked Cordelia, much to her own disgust, which was clear on her face, making Theo realize she must have been a former lover. “Oh, so you’re not Darla which I doubt because Connor’s her son…leaving you being none other than pretty little rich girl turned high being broke bitch miss Cordelia Chase. I must admit of all the stories I heard about the infamous scooby gang, yours were always the most amusing!” “Well, I guess you got your daddy’s brains, and his looks tell me which part of you is Buffy?” Cordelia wondered. “None I hope!” Theo quickly responded, making Cordelia cackle. “Good one sniveling little cry Buffy is more than enough for my liking.” Cordelia joked with the son of the man she once loved, before going on to hand Theo a room key. “A little friendly warning this guy is no friend of your mum or dads so be wary also his face is all kinds of yuck but hey we’re supposed to give you the full unbiased experience but seriously his face is not going to be easy on your pretty little eyes.”

“So, you are the son of the slayer and Angelus…I have been expecting you, my boy.” The Master announced as Theo walked into the hotel room to find the legendary vampire stood waiting to introduce himself. “From your actions, you are more of Angelus’ child than Angel’s which pleases me immensely to know the girl who slew me now has a beast within her own bloodline. However, I hope there is some of the slayer's DNA in you too after all she was the only one to ever beat me.” “You must be The Master, Dru mentioned you once or twice there sure is a lot of hype about you in your heyday you know before Buffy beat you like some newbie vamp,” Theo replied, mocking the master of vampires. “Tobias bought into all that hype but me not so much…so why the hell are you the latest stop on my supernatural soul train?” “You have this arrogance about you that most definitely reminds me of your mother but unlike her you have been beaten time and time again, therefore, making this arrogance of yours truly unearned.” The Master responded, taking a swipe at the son of the slayer in the process. “Mummy spanked you so hard you turned to dust, I think it’s about time you lose the attitude when in the presence of someone who earned their legacy in this world and the next!” “Now don’t start talking about spanking unless your intent is to turn me on.” Theo recklessly flirted with the infamous vampire. “You have what I call a pillow face, but I can work with it if you want to get freaky…” “Right!” Anya Jenkins shouted before storming into the hotel room, The Master quickly vanishing out of sight the moment Anya entered the room. “I’m taking into this appointment because that is just seriously unsettling, and I’d rather not metaphorically spew all over Buffy’s boy as I try to knock some sense into you.” “Oh, great another bloody ghost from their past!” Theo complained as he turned to face the former vengeance demon, quickly becoming tired of whatever the hell was going on around him. “I’m Anya formerly known as Anyanka formerly known as a vengeance demon, one of the best vengeance demons actually then I almost married your mother’s friend Xander until you know he ditched me at the altar and long before he knocked up the little brat we used to babysit,” Anya answered him, clearly unamused with Xander’s choice of partner to co-parent with. “Now I’m just Anya an ally to the powers that be, who’d have thought it…certainly not me anyway.” “Here’s the thing, I’m growing really tired of this bullshit, and after sacrificing myself for I guess the greater good I could really just do with a nap or something. I am so not in the mood for whatever is going on here nor do I give a damn that your man dumped you for someone younger it happens love get over it!” Theo quickly dismissed the former vengeance. “Sorry that your dead but I’m dead too so how about you go haunt the living? I suggest that knucklehead builder who broke your heart especially considering he has a thing for building prisons now and needs a good little scare for that alone.” “Listen here you little snot-nosed slayer, vamp, brat! I am over a thousand years old, and I will not be spoken to that by someone who is technically an error on human history.” Anya snapped back at the slayer of slayers. “Go get yourself a drink or something! Let someone else deal with you, I’m asking for a pay raise…come to think of it, does money still smell as good as it used to?” As Theo became more and more convinced that he was in hell, Anya took the look on his disapproving face to say he wasn’t going to answer her question, and instead of sticking around to force it out of him, she proceeded to leave the hotel room eager to get back to her own afterlife knowing that the next person to visit Theo would definitely be able to put up with his attitude better than she could, or rather was willing to.

Theo didn’t hang around for long before he decided to search for this infamous hotel bar that Anya had suggested to him, wondering if there was even a bar within this rundown, seemingly abandoned place, but after going up and down several floors he finally found the bar the former vengeance demon was referring to as he opened the door, walked through, and suddenly found himself transported to the dive bar he shared with Tobias, only Tobias was not behind the bar, a mousy blonde-haired woman was, a bewitching beauty. “It’s funny the places you wind up when you are not even going in that direction or at least so you thought. It’s hard to accept new paths that are laid out for you but sooner or later you just got to, or you spend forever unhappy and forever’s a very long time.” Tara Maclay informed Theo as he walked over to the bar counter, trying to work out who this bartender was and why they were in some dream-world version of his home. “I much prefer this bar to the last one I’ll give you that,” Theo admitted as he sat down on a barstool and waited for Tara to pour him a glass of whisky on the rocks, to which he quickly downed in one gulp upon being served it. “Which ghost of Buffy and Angel’s past are you?” “I was once Tara, now I’m something else entirely, I am no longer her, and yet her memories remain. It’s funny how they don’t tell you about that when you become a higher being nor do they tell you that despite how much you want to you can never truly reclaim your past, you can never truly get back to where you really want to be.” Tara revealed to the slayer of slayers, as Theo remembered a conversation, he had with Willow about a woman she had love and lost, and how her name was Tara. “I know she feels the same way,” Theo reassured her in a rare act of kindness, as he reached out to hold her hand to comfort the clearly saddened spirit. “See that’s the kindness, that’s signs of your soul, one that was too powerful to be destroyed by demons or anything else that has been thrown at you.” Tara genuinely replied as Theo took his hand back, uncomfortable by showing what he considered to be a weakness but was actually just plain old sympathy. “You have been fighting on the wrong side for all the wrong reasons Theo and I know you know that now even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself you want redemption, more than that you need it.” “Even if you were right, I’m dead now all done and dusted far too late to even try redeeming myself for all the terrible things I have done,” Theo replied, not wanting to admit to the former witch turned higher being that she was right, that he did want redemption, that he wanted to amend for the things he has done, that he had finally seen the error of his ways, and his hatred was placed in all the wrong places. “Oh, sweetie you’re not dead you’re just on a time out, which is sort of over now,” Tara replied before Tristan found himself being transported one last time, only this time he had been transported back to vampire island, to the very spot he had staked himself, standing in his own leftover ashes as he looked around the abandoned caves more confused than ever before as he tried to work out what he had just experienced, why he was back on that island, and what would happen next. “I told you there was another destiny for you, my friend,” Sineya revealed telepathically as her words once again pierced their way into Theo’s mind after her spirit appeared in front of the former slayer of slayers. “And now it has begun…you are no longer the slayer of slayers or the vampire with a soul intact, now you are at one with the very demon itself, this is your destiny!”

The End…of Volume One

Volume one - Slayer of Slayers Master List Link Here

VOLUME 2 COMING SOON...

[bnha-mha-imagines]

Okay, get this: a new lov member who’s really awkward and shy. Everyone thinks she’s just a normal gal but it turns out she’s absolutely out of her mind? /sigh/ I don’t even know anymore 😔 rip. I’m so bad at requesting it should be my new party trick. Anyways, I hope you have a good day and I love your writing!!

Ahh thank you! :) I’m not sure if you wanted this to be cute or disturbing so I went with the latter because nothing I’ve posted so far is dark themed (all my stuff is like, fluff haha)! :0 Let’s get some well rounded writing up in here! 

New LOV member who’s secretly insane

Warnings: DARK THEMES that include but are not limited to: Blood, dead animals, disturbing images, cannibalism, death, hearing voices, sadism/masochism, violence, mentions of self-harm etc. etc. You get the picture. 

^^^Don’t read if you’re sensitive to similar topics. I went ham on this, yall. 

Disclaimer: The reader depicted in this is chronically insane and is an extreme case. This is in no way a depiction of a person with a mental disorder. I don’t want to spread any misinformation, most people with mental disorders are lovely people and are not crazy/dangerous in anyway

Under the cut vvv

Tomura Shigaraki:

Look, he wasn’t a fan of the whole awkward-shy act, but hey, you were pretty hot and you had a quirk that the League definitely needed

So he let you in, figuring he’d just need to have that timid attitude of yours whipped out of you

But OH. It didn’t take long for him to realize you were completely bonkers. 

Dabi was giving you shit like he did everyone, and all it took was a poor comment on his part for your usually pleasant expression to contort into one of malice and...joy? The way your face darkened and your eyes swirled with an unhinged gleam… 

Maybe you’d be more interesting than he initially thought~ plus, seeing you threaten Dabi was definitely some brownie points in Tomura’s book

At times it gets frustrating because you can get out of hand, and he honestly couldn’t even handle the League WITHOUT another crazy added in the mix

But you were powerful and an important addition to the team, so you were stuck with this sorry lot whether you liked it or not

Kurogiri:

He was a little surprised, but pleasantly so, when Tomura recruited you for the League. You were actually...rather normal compared to the rest of the bunch, but he was far from complaining!

You were also modest and well-mannered, and Kurogiri especially admired that. The rest of the League was full of squabbling hotheads, so you were a breath of fresh air!

At the bar, he’d talk a lot with you seeing as you were one of the calmer villains, but overtime he noticed that certain comments would raise a few red flags. 

One day you bring in the mangled body of a cat and...oh. 

The way you casually set it on the bar counter and grin at Kurogiri happily while you ask for a kiddy cocktail… all the while your hands were still soaked in its blood.

Tomura’s decision made a bit more sense now. You were completely off your rocker! He treats you pretty much the same as before, but is usually the one who has to reel you in when you start to show your crazy too much. 

Dabi:

When you first joined the League, he couldn’t believe it. Was Tomura fucking stupid? How could a shy, pretty thing like you possibly fit in with the baddest villain organization?

Needless to say, he was kind of an asshole to you. He’d make rude comments, blatantly say you didn’t belong here, condescendingly give you names like “princess” 

For the most part you would bear it all with a grin, and though he didn’t exactly understand you reaction, he would scoff and roll his eyes. “Weirdo”

One day he happens to strike a particularly strong chord with you, and suddenly you’ve shoved him against a wall, hands wrapped around his throat

You choking him wasn’t what off put him. It was the demented look in your eyes and the lopsided grin overwhelming your face. You were practically begging him to insult you again.

“It feels soooo good when you call me names!” you giggle, fingers squeezing into his neck. “Maybe you can choke me next?!” Your eyes were excited at the sadistic thought. 

He shoves you off rather easily after he gets over his initial surprise, rubbing his neck. “Crazy bitch…”

The fact that he didn’t ignite your crazy ass on the spot means you’d gained his respect, if in the slightest. Clearly you’re a better fit to be a villain than he thought. He still picks on you, but significantly less.

Himiko Toga:

She was excited to have another girl! She flocked straight to you and grabbed your sleeve right away!

“Aiiya! You’re so cute, look at you!” She poked your cheeks and you got a little flustered under the attention. She thinks you’re so shy and adorable!!!!

She makes it her mission to become your bestest best friend! But she can’t help but get a little excited from time to time.

“(Y/n), you’re too cute! Please, can I cut you up!? Just a few slices here and there! You’d look ten times cuter if I do!” And she’s grinning.

Her grin completely falters, however, when you agree. “W-What?” she didn’t expect it at all! She was used to getting brushed off.

But no...the crazed look in your eye at the mention of spilled blood… you were practically dripping with insanity. 

Kurogiri stopped the both of you before you both had the chance to completely slice each other up, but from that moment on your were pretty much conjoined at the hip.

Crazy cuties flock together

Spinner:

When a cute, shy thing like yourself joined the League, he was a total flustered mess! You were absolutely adorable!

Like Kurogiri, you were a breath of fresh air, a nice change of pace to the usually colorful bunch that he got to hang around with.

You were nice to him, and he always gets embarrassed when you compliment him! So naturally he assumes that you’re the sweetheart of the bunch! 

You’re talking, and finally Spinner outright asks you, “How’d you even get roped into villainy?” because it blows his mind such a normie like you are in the League

And, very casually and chipper, you describe how you murdered your family in cold blood. They hadn’t even done anything to upset you. You just wanted to. 

“O-Oh.” He honestly didn’t know what to say...but he didn’t really get a chance to speak as you suddenly pull a necklace out from under your shirt. It was a strange looking thing, a shriveled black lump on a string. 

“Look! I even carry a piece of them around with me!” His eyes widen, and you just giggle and tuck the petrified piece of corpse jewelry back into your shirt. 

Twice:

Needless to say, Twice had some mixed feelings about you when you first joined the League.

“What the hell is such a prude bitch doing in the League?” “Aww how cute! Finally a fresh face! Happy to meet you!” 

He’s honestly probably the first to realize you’re absolutely batshit because he’s always half doubting your sincerity

Let’s just say he isn’t surprised when you’re on a mission and you start gnawing and eating at a fresh corpse on the ground

“Wow, that’s fucking bad ass” “Ew!!! That’s disgusting, what the fuck!” 

And hearing his voices go back and forth, you just look up, blood smeared across your face, a strange gleam in your eye and you grin!

“Hahaha! Twice, you always say the funniest things!!!”

After the mission he tries to avoid you as much as he can. Though your quirk and tenacity was something the League definitely benefited from, that didn’t mean he wanted to be anywhere near you after the shit he saw that night

You were fucking wild

Mr. Compress

After Shigaraki let you into the League, he was pretty interested in you. You seemed pretty average and you acted like a timid civilian, so what kind of quirk did you have? Surely something must have caught Tomura’s eye that he wasn’t seeing.

So he, being the man of charisma and mystery that he was, made it his secret motive to find out what you were hiding. 

He took it upon himself to show you around the hideout as your own personal guide. Not that you were complaining! Compress is so flashy and entertaining that you were actually enjoying your time with him.

Not gonna lie, he was acting a little too charming and over-confident with you, trying to get you to slip up and spill a secret

And spill you did! Though not intentionally. It sort of all happened at once. Compress was moving ahead of you and all of a sudden he was thrown back against the wall.

He hits it with a grunt and slides down to the floor, looking up at you with a stunned expression. What the fuck did he do to merit that?!

But you weren’t even looking at him. No, you were whispering under your breath, staring at the ceiling and grinning like a madman. 

“You’re right! That was fun!” you spoke to the empty room, pausing a moment before letting out a loud, crazy laugh. “You always were good at jokes!” 

Slowly he rose and moved away from the room where you stood conversing with your imaginary voices. 

Telekinesis was a pretty powerful quirk! Though it seemed your perks also came with some hefty flaws… very interesting!

Magne: 

Magne was so excited to have another girl in the League! She loved Toga, of course, but at times Magne found her to be a bit...much 

So when you first arrived, seemingly normal, she was so ecstatic! She wanted to do all sorts of girl things with you that she couldn’t really do often in the boy-dominated League

You were so cute and timid, she couldn’t help but want to have a girl’s sleepover with you and Toga!

Your true colors started to show, however, during the middle of a truth or dare game. Magne had asked you what your favorite crime to commit was, expecting something calmer like robbery or identity theft 

Color her surprised when your face contorts into the craziest, most terrifying look as you narrate a violent murder and proceed to grab a pillow and rip it to shreds with your hands as a ‘demonstration’. 

Cute AND violently psycho. She can roll with that.

[vannahfanfics]

I’ve Got These Scars, But I Think They’re Pretty

Category: Angst, General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Dabi

Additional Tags: Role Swap AU

The bright white waiting room hummed with hushed conversations of waiting patients, worried family, and chatting nurses. Dabi sat hunched in a chair, leg bouncing and hands clasped tight, but not because he was awaiting treatment. His aquamarine eyes scanned the room to observe the comings and goings, the brightly-colored spandex suits and the fluttering capes as the local heroes made their rounds visiting the various tenants of the pediatric intensive care ward. 

By all rights, Dabi should be among them— but he didn’t exactly fit the mold of hero , even if he was a member of a bonafide agency. With a quiet sigh, he sat up to observe the dark purple scars and silver staples adorning his marred skin. No, children shrieked and cried at the sight of him and his scarred body. He’d only undo the optimism the other heroes were instilling in the ailing children if he strutted around pretending like he wasn’t some kind of patchwork monster. 

Sighing heavily, Dabi leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. 

It was times like this that he loathed his father the most. So easily, Dabi could have turned to the path of vengeance and brought retribution in the form of a fiery inferno, but he hadn’t. He’d persevered; he’d endured the trauma and abuse and his own goddamn skin melting off his bones as he lived in his own circle of Hell until Shoto came around. He’d overcome all the urges and temptations to become a hero— but he still couldn’t be normal . They always wondered in the back of their minds if he was unhinged or a villain spy because of these scars he was forced to bear. 

Dabi clenched his teeth and curled his fingers into his hair, fingernails scoring into his scalp as he struggled to reign his volatile emotions back in. Oh, how he hated Endeavor, but he hated himself more for slipping back into these spirals of thought time and time again. Frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he seethed in self-loathing and resentment and struggled not to let the negative feelings swallow him whole. 

I shouldn’t be here. 

“Hey, mister, are you here to get treatment?” 

Dabi jerked up with a small gasp as a sweet little voice yanked him out of his depressive spiral. He blinked rapidly, his teary eyes blurring his vision into hazy watercolors for a few seconds, until the form of a small child materialized into view. Her eyes were bright and wide as she regarded him curiously, a half-eaten chocolate bar in one hand and the other bundled to her chest in a thick cast. Gauze covered two-thirds of her body, making her seem like a little baby mummy standing before him. 

He straightened up in the chair and rubbed his sweaty palms across the fabric of his ripped jeans. 

“Oh, um… No.” 

“Are you visiting someone?” she asked, chomping down on the chocolate bar. Dabi grimaced slightly as she kept her stare fixed upon him while chewing open-mouthed on the sweet confection. It was a little unsettling, as he was so used to the wrong kind of stares; the little girl didn’t seem to register his scars at all, just gazing unblinkingly at him out of nothing but pure curiosity. 

“Um… Sort of. I’m with the hero agency visiting today,” he explained. The girl cocked her head to the side with a slow blink. 

“Then what’re you doin’ sittin’ out here? Are you tired?” 

Somebody come get this kid! Dabi thought as he shifted uncomfortably. Though he’d deeply desired for a kid to be able to converse openly with him like this, now that it was happening, it was such a foreign sensation that it was deeply unnerving. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around to find someone who could serve as a decent excuse. Unfortunately, all the heroes were busy in patient rooms— leaving Dabi to fend for himself. 

“Look, kid, aren’t you supposed to be in a room somewhere?” he evaded. The little girl shrugged and took another bite of the chocolate. The piece broke off with a loud snap before she chewed avidly on it.

“Yeah, but I wanted some candy, so I took some of my allowance and went to one of the vending machines. I don’t remember what room I’m s’posed to be in, though, so now I’m lost.” 

Dabi had to snicker at her completely emotionless analysis of the situation. The tyke reminded him of Shoto, almost, with that dispassionate disposition and monotone voice. Dabi’s head lolled on his neck as he took another look around. The nurses and doctors were nowhere to be found now, either. Well, he thought as he pushed himself out of the chair, I guess I should do the “heroic” thing and escort her back to her room. 

“What’s your name, squirt?” 

“Katsumi.” 

“All right, Katsumi. Let’s go find your room, huh?” he said as he strode off. The girl obediently trotted to keep up, continuing to munch on her chocolate bar and smearing it a little across her lips. The ICU of the children’s hospital was the largest of the facility, so realistically, it could take a considerable amount of time for Dabi to find Katsumi’s room in the sea of beds. He slipped his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, icy blue eyes flicking between the name placards adorning the closed doors. Dabi was more than content to tread along in total silence, but the little girl— not so much. 

“Hey, mister, where’d you get those scars?” 

Dabi glanced down to see her gaping at the purple patchwork decorating the visible parts of his body. However, what startled him and stuttered his steps was the look on Katsumi’s face; rather than disgust, fascination adorned her features, and there was a strange sparkle in her eyes. He stood frozen as she tucked the chocolate bar under her armpit so she could run her fingers over the wrinkled, stitched skin of his forearm. 

“They’re burn scars, aren’t they?” 

Dabi’s expression softened as Katsumi’s eyes grew lidded. She ran her fingers over the marred areas a few more times, then reached back to claw at the bandages swathing half her body. “So when I’m all better, will I look like this?” 

Dabi’s throat closed up as he felt the oddest sense of shame washing over him. I shouldn’t be here, he thought again. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do as Katsumi studied his injuries and envisioned herself like him— barely held together by staples and prayers? He bit down on his lip as it grew hard to breathe, and once again, the hate began to well up inside of him, a geyser threatening to explode and arch into the sky in frightening brilliance. 

“Your scars are so pretty.” 

Dabi almost fell over. 

“Do— do what ?” he cried as he looked down at her in shock. Katsumi gave him a sweet, innocent smile as if what she’d just uttered wasn’t insanely weird. She shyly rocked her hips back and forth as she placed her hand on his arm again. 

“Purple is my favorite color!” she explained with a giddy laugh. Dabi’s face wasn’t sure what kind of expression to make, but it made something. He sagged in disbelief— and a whole lot of relief — as Katsumi continued to admire the disfigured skin painting his forearm. Her eyes were lidded again, but this time in a childlike hopefulness. 

“That’s what happened to me, y’know. A house fire,” she said and raised her arm as much as she could in the cast. Dabi refrained from contradicting her; it was easier for her to believe something simple like a house fire and not years on years of pushing his Quirk beyond his body’s physical limits. “The nurses and doctors are all super nice, but… I hear them talking about how it’s such a shame that I’ll be scarred for life, a pretty girl like me.” When she looked back up at him, tears bubbled in her eyes before rolling down her plump cheeks, rosy with life and pain. “I’ll still be pretty even with these scars, right? Right ? Just because I have them, people can still love me, can’t they ?” 

Dabi breathed sharply through his nose as he ran a hand through his dyed hair. Of all the things he’d thought would come of today, comforting a crying child in the middle of a hallway wasn’t one of them. Yet he couldn’t help but feel glad for it. This little girl echoed the same things he’d felt after his incident. 

At least, unlike Dabi, Katsumi had someone to put her fears to rest. 

“Of course they can,” he said as he crouched down. His coat brushed against the white tiled floor as he kneeled beside Katsumi and rested a hand atop her head to ruffle her hair. “If anything, the scars’ll make you even prettier. They’re a sign that you overcame everything and came out still standing, yeah?” Dabi was never the best with words, so he hoped that Katsumi understood. 

She stared at him for a moment, still sniffling petulantly. However, little by little, a smile wormed its way onto her face. 

“Really?” 

Dabi’s smile broadened and gave her hair another ruffle, making her giggle. 

“Really. Don’t listen to what those nurses say. Anybody who has any sense’ll know that those scars don’t make you anything less.” 

“Thanks, mister,” she preened, and Dabi swore the smile she gave him was brighter than the sun itself. As he stood, she lunged forward to take his hand and lace their fingers, still probably feeling a little emotionally vulnerable. Dabi didn’t make any move to rebuke her, only tugged on her slim arm so they could resume walking down the hall. Soon she was swinging his arm back and forth as she pranced along, much more animated and happy that she had been previously. 

Dabi felt a sense of pride welling up inside him, knowing that just a few words of encouragement had illuminated Katsumi so brightly. 

Suddenly, he was very glad he came. 

Eventually, they located Katsumi’s room. The nurse nearly bowled Dabi over when they meandered up, screeching at him about kidnapping and not listening to a damn word he had to say. Though Katsumi brightly attempted to explain that Dabi was a kind hero who had led her back, the nurse was about to call the authorities on him until Hawks sauntered up and slapped his gloved hands on Dabi’s shoulders to give her a brilliant grin. 

“It seems there’s been a big understanding. Ma’am, this is one of the heroes working at my agency, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t call the authorities on him.” 

The nurse dropped the phone with a series of confused sputters, pointing at Dabi as if that was all the evidence she needed. Dabi sagged into the bird-man’s grip, irritation bubbling up inside him. For a moment, he had forgotten how much of a ruffian he looked to the general populace. Hawks continued to diffuse the situation with practiced grace. 

“I know he looks like a thug, but I promise, Dabi here is a bonafide hero! He even brought your little lost dove back, yeah~?” 

“Yep! We had a great talk,” Katsumi chirped as she clambered back into her hospital bed. She finally remembered her chocolate bar and removed it from her armpit, frowning when she discovered that it was half-melted and squished. After scrutinizing it for a moment, she shrugged and chomped down on it. Dabi smirked as he watched her, very entertained. 

Hawks’ honeyed words had placated the nurse, who begrudgingly offered Dabi a half-hearted and wary apology. He shrugged her off and walked over to Katsumi, who was enjoying the remains of her chocolate bar. 

“All right, squirt. I’m off. Got lots of important hero business to attend to and all.” 

“Will you come back and see me?” she asked, looking up at him with a chocolate-smeared pout. Dabi snorted and pushed her head a little, making her laugh giddily. 

“Of course. I’ll see ya next week.” 

“Okay! Bring some chocolate bars!” 

“You got it,” he waved as he strolled out of the hospital room. Hawks followed suit after cheerfully bidding farewell to the nurse. They both sighed deeply as he closed the door behind him. 

“Well,” Hawks smiled as he strode up beside Dabi and nudged him with an elbow. “Lookit you, gettin’ friendly with the kiddos. I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dabs.” 

“Shut up, you great big chicken wing,” Dabi growled and flashed him a scowl. Hawks laughed good-naturedly, feathers ruffling in mirth. 

“Oh, come on now! It’s progress!” Hawks insisted. Dabi left him standing there with his arms held up like the great big winged moron he was. Hawks pouted and whined after him, but he continued off to the vending machines, suddenly craving chocolate. As the wrapped candy bar thunked down into the receptacle and he leaned down to retrieve it, a serene smile decorated his face as he caught the reflection of his scars in the glass. 

“Yeah, I’ve got scars, but I think they’re pretty!” He could just hear Katsumi bleating to the ignorant nurses. As he straightened back up with the chocolate bar in hand, he rolled up the long sleeves of his coat, exposing more of the purple patchwork skin to the cold air of the hospital. 

“Yeah. Me too, kid.” 

As he walked out of the hospital into the sunshine, he glanced up at the sky and smiled. 

I’m glad I came. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[possiamo-andare]

No More Divisions - Chapter Five: When's It Gonna Get Easier?

JJ x Original Character

MASTERLIST

I'd like to thank everyone for the likes and words of encouragement so far. I'm not the most talented writer and this is my first time ever writing anything (let alone publishing it) and it blows me away the messages I'm getting say they love it. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to @outerbankswriting who is literally the person who should be following. Their work unbelievable and they deserve all the love <3

~

There is so much to do today and no time to do it. You ever heard if the saying Rome wasn't built in a day? Well, the Romans got one thing right; you can't do everything in one day, there's just no time.

By the time we pick up Pope and get to the garage where JJ's dad's boat is, it's almost noon. I can already guess that by the time we stock up all of the essentials we brought along, attach it to Kiara's car and drive it back to the dock, it'll basically be 3pm. We all recognize how every minute counts and none of us waste time by joking around. We get straight to work.

Kiara and I transfer all of the food from the bins to storage containers inside the boat, where all of the food can be refrigerated. This takes quite a while since most of the food is in cans or packaging and there's only so many storage containers on the boat so we find ourselves rearranging the food many times so it all can fit properly.

JJ and Pope fill up the boat with gas and store the rest someone on the deck, hoping the amount of gas Pope got was enough. It's not like he had time to go back and get more since his dad was literally right behind him.

After most of the work is done, besides cleaning the deck and making sure all of the controls are in shape for riding, we take a break. Kiara brings out the extra food that wouldn't fit in the container and it's just enough for lunch. I know we're on a time limit but I have to eat or else I'll faint.

As we prepare our sandwiches, JJ starts telling this stupid story that is grossly inappropriate. We all are laughing anyways because it's JJ and he just has a way of telling stories. Once he gets to the punchline we're all laughing hysterically at him because, of course, it's stupid but it completely something I see JJ saying. I look over to Pope, expecting him to be shaking his head in disapproval but laughing at the same time, but he isn't. In fact, I don't think he's heard JJ's joke at all. Pope is staring at his feet as he sits cross legged on the floor, eating his sandwich. He looks like he's in a trance and I'm a little concerned.

"Pope, you okay?" I ask, the laughter dying down and all of our eyes shifting to Pope.

"Do you think he'll disown me?" Pope asked, his voice almost cold. He continued to look down at the floor and didn't dare look at any of us.

"What?" JJ scoffed, scooting closer to Pope and putting his arm around him. "Your dad loves you more than anything. Sure, he's pissed off now but he'll get over it."

JJ looks to me and I smile at him. I would have never guessed for JJ to be the sentimental, mushy type of guy but he definitely is.

"I mean, you're probably gonna be grounded until you're 30." JJ smirks, looking back to Pope who is now smiling.

I'm smiling too. I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. I look to Kiara and she does the same. We're both thinking the same thing; what a privilege it is to be JJ's friend.

We soon get back to work, moping the deck and cleaning up the rooms below deck, which are filled with cobwebs. This boat must be old and I'd be surprised if there wasn't something wrong with the engine. Once I'm done my part, I check on Kiara who is still mopping. I ask her if she needs any help and she tells me she doesn't but I should go check on Pope and JJ since they're the ones checking out the engine.

When I get there, they're arguing. These guys are so confusing. Thirty minutes ago they were best pals and now they're arguing about the engine.

"Girls, girls," I sarcastically say as I walk up to them. "What seems to be the problem?"

JJ rolls his eyes at me and Pope smirks.

"Nothing, I just don't think this boat will last twenty minutes in the water and JJ believes in a higher power that says it will." Pope answers, glaring at JJ for a moment before looking back at me.

I look to JJ, my face clearly very judgemental. "Not to shame, but higher power?"

JJ rolls his eyes. "I know it sounds dumb but it seriously works. When I used to use this beauty, I used to almost always run out of gas but somehow every time there would just enough to get me home."

I smile, not wanting to make fun of him but still not believing him. I look to Pope. "Got a better idea than the one we have?"

Pope sighs and shakes his head. "Nah."

I smirk. "Then it's settled, we're using JJ's demonic boat -"

"Hey! Not demonic, just a higher power!"

"- to help John B. If anything happens, we'll blame it on JJ."

Pope snickers and raises his hand to me so I can give him a high five. "You're my favourite."

"Is it make fun of JJ day?" JJ shouts, a little exasperated from what's unfolding in front of him.

"Nah, it's beat the shit out of JJ day?" A voice from behind me says.

I pivot around quickly, seeing the face I hate for a second time today. It's Rafe, and this time he's brought someone different. I don't recognize him. He's a short guy with longish brown hair. He's pretty muscular and is probably around Rafe's age. I thought I knew all of Rafe's friends but I guess he got this one after we broke up.

"Rafe..." I spit, angrily taking a step forward to him. "What are you doing?" Why does this guy always show up at the wrong times? Oh right, I remind myself, it's because I'm a witness to his murder.

His friend walks over to JJ and Pope, who are now on high alert. Do they know him too? Why am I always the last one to know stuff?

"I'm coming to bring you back." He says, forcefully grabbing onto my wrist.

I look behind me and see JJ being held back by Rafe's friend. He's pushing and shoving the guy to get to me. He's trying his best and it's not working until Pope steps in and helps. He leaps onto the guy's back and starts punching. This lets JJ free and he's quickly racing towards me.

"Get away from her." JJ says, grabbing my wrist and pulling it out of Rafe's grip fast.

Rafe snorts. "Get the fuck outta my way stupid."

JJ laughs bitterly. "What are you gonna do? Beat me with your money?"

Before it was JJ standing in between Rafe and I but now it's the opposite. I'm trying to squeeze my way through Rafe and JJ so I can get between them but they won't let me.

"No. I'm gonna beat you worse than your old pop." Rafe spits back.

I can tell this has hit a nerve because JJ is taken aback for a second. I can't believe Rafe has gone there myself.

"Rafe, you -" I'm about to tell him off but I don't get a chance because JJ lunges towards Rafe, his fist coming in contact with Rafe's face.

All this yelling gets Kiara's attention and she's off the boat and kicking the guy Pope is fighting faster than I've ever seen a human move. She's punching and kicking the guy and although it's not doing much damage, it is distracting him enough for Pope to get the jump on him.

I look back to Rafe and JJ and see them fighting still. One person swings and someone dodges it and then the next. I hate physical fighting so much so I put a stop to it the only way I could; I jump onto Rafe's back and put my hands over his eyes so he can't see.

"What the hell?!" He yells, trying to grab my hands and pull them off his eyes.

JJ gets a few punches to the stomach before Rafe can successfully get my hands off his eyes. Once I get off Rafe, he hunches over and looks like he might get sick. I want to yell at him and say things I'll regret but I don't get a chance to because JJ is rushing towards me, making sure I'm okay.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, cupping my face in his hands.

I shake my head, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "I just wanna leave now." It's been too long of a day and I need to leave. I can't stand being in the same place as Rafe.

JJ nods and leans forward, kissing my forehead. I look up at him and our noses are touching. I feel the strong urge to kiss him again and -

CLANG!

There's a loud bang behind us and we look to the right to see Kiara pulling Pope away from Rafe's friend whose face is so bloody now that he's almost unrecognizable. JJ and I were so caught up in each other, we forgot the look out for our friends.

We rush over to Kiara and Pope, who are arguing about how Pope should've stopped a long time ago. I hug Kiara to try and calm her down while JJ checks the guys pulse. When he gives us a thumbs up, we all breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why'd you do that for?" Kiara yells at Pope, still holding onto me.

Pope rolls his eyes at her. "He stole from us and tried to beat us up right now. He's a fucking drug dealer!"

I gasp. That's how Rafe knows him; this guy is Rafe's drug dealer. Now I want my turn with this guy.

"So you almost kill him?!" Kiara screams back, holding onto me for dear life. I don't think she can take this insanity any longer. Even Pope is breaking. I can see it in his behavior. I haven't known Pope for long or as well as his other friends, but I can see he's slowly becoming another person entirely. Almost unhinged.

Pope rolls his eyes and storms off, getting into Kiara's car. Kiara looks at me and cries, exasperated from the events that have unfolded.

I let her get into the car as well and close the door. Kiara seems very out of it right now and to be honest so am I. I'm just trying to survive and roll with the punches and figure out how I feel later.

Before I get into the car, I look to Rafe who is still groaning and holding his stomach. I feel a small amount of pity for him. Rafe is living proof that being rich doesn't mean you're exempt from bad shit happening to you.

With one last glance I get into the driver's seat beside JJ and I pull out of the garage. It's the last step of our plan and its 2pm. I hope we get there before John B. and Sarah so we have time to get the boat in the water. Hopefully there won't be any more set backs.

As I drive, I glance to JJ who seems to be lost into thought. His brows are scrunched together and he's been looking out the window for five minutes now.

"You okay?" I ask, taking one of my hands off the steering wheel to grab his hand.

JJ looks at our hands intertwined and then looks at me. "Do you know when life's gonna get easier?"

I frown. "Hopefully soon."

And, to be honest, I was never sure if life was ever gonna get easier after this.

[myaekingheart]

126. Hopelessly  Devoted

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               “That’s it, I’m never drinking ever again” Sekkachi announced, slumping into a booth at the dango shop. Rei paused mid-chew, blinked, swallowed. Sekkachi tightened her ponytail in frustration and flagged down Amai, the waitress. “Two taiyaki, please.”

               “Wow, what the fuck did you even do?” Rei asked once Amai skipped away. “It must be really bad if you’re ordering taiyaki.” And saying please, Rei mentally added. It was no secret that Sekkachi had a very limited diet of anything bland and rice based. True, she often treated Hiretsuna to taiyaki after routine doctor’s appointments but she never ordered any for herself.

               Sekkachi reached across the table and took a long swig of Rei’s drink. “I made a big fucking mistake, Rei. I’m losing my mind here” she replied. It was the most jittery and unhinged Rei had ever seen her, and it almost even made her anxious herself. “I just have one question for you: when we were at the bar, do you remember me, I don’t know, flirting with anyone?”

               Rei scoffed and shook her head. “I barely remember what I did that night, let alone you” she replied. Sekkachi’s thirtieth birthday had only been five days ago and Rei still found herself suffering from the aftermath of it. Her voice was scratchy and sore for days afterward, a consequence of having not formally practiced her last-minute metal screaming, and sometimes she swore she could still feel the sharp sting of alcohol at the back of her throat. All in all, her extended hangover did not bode well for her work performance. She didn’t even want to think about how terribly her last few ANBU missions had gone. She didn’t particularly want to think about the ANBU at all, though, to be honest.  

               Snapping Rei from her daze, Sekkachi shook her head and looked out at the street. “Maybe I should just go rogue. Disappear completely” she mused. “I don’t think I can ever show my face in Konoha ever again.”

               “Oh, come on” Rei whined. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Can’t be any worse than anything you’ve already done.” A few choice blunders came to mind: one night stands with unsuspecting girls she broke the hearts of, that one time she got high and jumped in a fountain at the park, then subsequently ran from the Uchiha police force. They had to put her under a genjutsu just to get the cuffs on her and even then, she resisted. There were also the many times she’d put salt on Rei’s cookies at lunch in the academy. Sekkachi was nothing short of an anarchist so her getting into trouble wasn’t even surprising.

               Unamused, Sekkachi glared at Rei across the table and replied, “No, believe me, it’s way fucking worse.” Motioning with her hand, Rei made an impatient expression and silently urged her to explain. Sekkachi buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Apparently we ran into someone at the bar that my dumb ass decided to not only flirt with but exchange phone numbers with, and now I’ve got to clean up a mess I didn’t even want to make in the first place.”

               Rei gasped in mock shock, asking in hushed tones, “Oh god, was it…a man?”

               “No, it was not a man, you idiot!” Sekkachi shouted, reaching across the table to slap Rei on the arm. “I may be dumb but I’m not that dumb!” Rei couldn’t help but laugh, even though she knew deep down the situation wasn’t all that funny. After all, if Sekkachi was this upset, it must be really serious. Amai scurried over with the taiyaki, insisting to Sekkachi that it was on the house, then offered Rei a refill of her water, which she quietly accepted. Once the waitress had scampered off yet again, Sekkachi finally gave a solid explanation. “It was…Mikazuki. You know, that bitch in the ANBU with you.”

               “Oh?” Rei asked, cocking a brow. This was definitely an interesting turn of events. Rei was not blind. She saw the way Mikazuki looked at Sekkachi, the way her cheeks blushed whenever word broke of the blue-haired kunoichi. “So? What happened?”

               “Nothing happened!” Sekkachi replied. “I just woke up the next morning to a goddamn voicemail from her stupid little hushed voice. Rei, I’ve made a massive fucking mistake. How the hell do I get out of this?”

               “Why do you want to get out of it?” Rei asked, taking a sip of her drink. “Mikazuki is a sweetheart, I’m sure you guys would have a good time together.” Nevermind the fact that she’s taken, Rei thought to herself, but she didn’t dare bring that up. She didn’t even know how serious her and Tenzo’s relationship was to begin with. What she said about crashing on his couch, the night Tenzo got wildly drunk, still stuck in the back of Rei’s mind.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes, ripping the head off of her taiyaki and taking a frustrated, barbaric bite. “Because I want nothing to do with her!” she countered. “If I could go the entire rest of my life without having to see Mikazuki Zazen ever again, I would be incredibly grateful.”

               “She’s really not that bad” Rei protested, but Sekkachi was already on a rampage. There was no changing her mind.

               “She’s bland and she has no fucking backbone. She’s into all that weird tarot stuff which you know I don’t give a rat’s ass about it—it’s all just a bunch of fucking bullshit. Doesn’t mean anything, like how the fuck can you actually sit there and let a bunch of dumb little cards dictate your life? Her haircut is stupid and that third eye freaks me the fuck out and I can never understand a damn thing she’s saying because she’s always whispering and stammering like she can’t even make a proper fucking sentence. It’s absolutely ridiculous, I can’t stand her!”

               Rei blinked, having not expected quite so passionate an explanation. What exactly did Sekkachi have against Mikazuki in the first place? What did Mikazuki ever do to her? Rei understood that her comrade had her faults but she found it hard to believe that there was any reason to truly hate her as much as Sekkachi seemed to. Rei took an uncomfortable sip of her drink, her eyes scanning the dango shop, when she locked eyes with an all-too-familiar face standing at the counter. Oh no.

               “Mikazuki’s really not that bad, you know” Rei stammered out, trying to save face. Mikazuki herself was staring right at them and based on the look on her face, she had heard everything. Her peridot eyes went glassy with impending tears, her lips pursed as she tried to restrain herself but her red cheeks gave her away. Sekkachi either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t seem to care. She couldn’t afford to.

               Amai skirted around the corner, producing a box of petit fours from under the counter. Mikazuki barely looked at her as she took the box, slapped some money on the counter, and ran out of the dango shop. Rei considered running after her to make sure she was okay, but she had no idea what to even say to her. If anything, she was sure she would only make things ten times worse. Either way, she would have to deal with it anyway when she went into work the next morning. She didn’t think she had the strength. Defeated, Rei merely sank down into her seat and pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “You know, Sekkachi, maybe in this new decade of your life you can practice watching what you say.”

               Mikazuki raced down the street, hugging the box to her chest. At this point, she didn’t even care if she crushed the damn things. It wasn’t worth it anymore. When she felt she couldn’t maintain composure any longer, she ducked into an alleyway and broke down in tears. She should’ve known it was all a lie. She should’ve known Sekkachi would never be soberly interested in her. After all, what was there to like? Sekkachi was right about everything. She was meek and strange and bothersome. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head, trying to remain positive. At least she had Tenzo. He cared about her. He appreciated her company. Perhaps that was something she had been taking for granted all this time. Perhaps she had been so preoccupied with what her heart was yearning for that she wasn’t giving her full attention to what her heart already had. Mikazuki looked down at the little cakes through the plastic window of the box, decorated with swirling yellow and pink icing. From now on, things would be different. From now on, she was no longer going to hope and wish for things she knew were not meant for her. She had Tenzo, and she loved him. She was sure she did. He deserved more than what she had been providing but no longer. From this point forward, she would devote herself to him completely. She would love him the way he deserved and they would be happy. She would make sure of it.

[roseydeloom]

Gremlin Izuku

Ok so this is a continuation of this post that @lovelyflowerlov and I are working on. It started as a shitpost and now we’re here and living our best lives. I’m making this separate just because the other is getting too long to scroll through. Click the link for context on the AU

—————————-

Before some more Battle Trial stuff (which I will get to later) I thought about what exactly Izuku’s quirk and appearance is.

Quirk

Possible Quirk names: Gremlin, Unhinged, Energize

Because we’re having Izuku be a Gremlin Boi™ and thus have, in the words of flower, “Teeth that are even more sharp than a shark, Amazing Bouncy Skills™, never ending enthusiasm, a night owl, and Bastard™ Energy” I say that his quirk is the ability to inhibit the body’s inborn limiters. You know, the things that make it so you don’t tear your muscles from bones everytime you use them. A common example being how your jaw is strong enough to bite off your finger, but your brain prevents you. Mainly basing this off hysterical strength and this video. Izuku can consciously turn this limiter off, both on himself and others. He could chomp his fingers like carrots if he wanted to. But it’s not just muscle limiters

You know that little voice in your head that tells you not to do or say stuff? The social conventions you know to follow, and thus what to do or say? The things that limit your actions? Ya, Izuku’s quirk prevented him from getting that. Though he does kinda have the opposite of it, explained later. He has to actively think about what he can and can’t do in a situation, and sometimes he just forgets or doesn’t understand that there are unspoken “rules” he needs to follow or behaviors he shouldn’t express. When activated on another person, they no longer feel pressured to act a specific way. His quirk also encourages reckless behavior; acting without care for possible harm to self. Izuku has grown up with this urge so he has learned how to fight it off, and actually has remarkable self control to not do 90% of the stuff his quirk tells him to. Not so much the case for people who have this pushed onto them for the first time. Kinda like Trigger and making people act differentenly :)

Example: during the Entrance Exam when he saw Uraraka trapped under gravel and the 0 pointer coming closer, his first instinct was to destroy the robot. To him, the rubble wasn’t the immediate threat and instead the robot that was walking towards her was. Shinsou was the one to convince him to try getting the debris off her first, and go from there. Only after that failed did Shinsou let Izuku enact his insane plan of eating the 0 pointer’s wires (which Izuku then teased Shinsou with the fact it worked and we should have just done that first, Hitoshi)

Because he can use all his muscles whenever he desires, his body naturally has a higher glucose stockpile than normal people to make up for the fact he will use more ATP working a higher volume of muscles (since muscle contractions use energy and glucose is the first energy storage the body burns through). However, he also needs to burn through that energy or else he risks damaging his nerves because of too much glucose in the blood (reason for nerve damage in diabetic people). Thus, he naturally has a higher energy level than other people so he jumps jumps jumps, has never ending enthusiasm, and always likes to be doing stuff. Tapping his foot, twirling his pencil, humming, analysising and writing in his notebook. This does infact burn his energy; mental fatigue is a thing my dudes. This also makes it so he loves to cause chaos, mischief, create pranks, and generally be a little nuisance, since it requires careful planning and energy running around to set it up, but that’s mainly just him being a little Bastard™

Appearance

So I definitely like the idea of him having sharp teeth and being shorter than cannon. I also think this boy would have BIG BONES to make up for the extra stress his quirk puts on them when his muscles are used. This translates into Izuku being a bit more on the chunky side, along with the natural ability to grow big muscles as, once again, a defense mechanism against his quirk. Sum up: he’s that dude that has always been on the bigger side and won’t get stick thin no matter how hard he tries, but when he flexes his arms turn into pure muscle and he can jump over your head from a standing jump. So basically chubby bulky

[Sources: 1 and 2, 3. These images are close to what I’m thinking]

Also I thing he would be darker skinned since he runs around outside in the sun constantly to burn off energy, so he got at least a tan from all that

Quirk Apprehension Test

So once Flower mentioned that we totally just forgot about this part of the plot, I proceeded to laugh for like 5 minutes over the fact we did. I totally forgot this existed until you mentioned it. My idea is as follows

Aizawa: This test is to gauge your abilities, quirks, and potential to be a hero. You are to use your quirks during the test to increase your scores

Some idiot: This sounds fun! We get to use quirks!

Aizawa: Fun? How about this: whoever comes last gets expelled

Class: *shouting*

Shinsou: *worried because his quirk doesn’t help him physically*

Izuku, manic grin spreading across face and turns to Shinsou: *whispers* I have an idea. I’ll use my quirk to help both our scores

They then proceed to complete the test with Shinsou getting better scores than he should be able to get. Aizawa knows this since, while he doesn’t read the entire file on students so he can form his own opinions, he does look over the basic info of name, photo, and quirk name/description. Shinsou shouldn’t be doing this well, and he also acts differently once it’s his turn to preform. Aizawa sees Shinsou and Izuku being more comfortable with one another than they would be if they just met, and in addition to the fact they were together during the Entrance Exam, he guesses that they’re friends and Izuku is using his quirk to bost Shinsou. During Shinsou’s turn for the ball toss, Aizawa cancels Izuku’s quirk so Shinsou no longer receive its effects and throws the ball a lot shorter than everyone expected

Aizawa, glaring at Izuku: I knew it. You’re using your quirk to help your friend

Izuku, turning and smirking: And? What about it?

Aizawa: I could expel you both right now for cheating and interfering with results of a test

Shinsou: *face deadpan but shitting his pants, hoping Izuku will weasel their way out of this*

Izuku, gremlin smirk forming: No you won’t, Eraserhead. If you were doing this test you would have used your quirk to cancel your clasmates’ quirks to put you on a even playing field. I’m doing the exact opposite and helping. Plus, you only said “use your quirks during the test to increase your scores.” You didn’t forbid using our quirks to affect other people’s scores, nor saying we could only increase our own score.

Aizawa, cheshire grin: So you are related to your brother. Alright. Shinsou, throw the ball again and Midoriya, you can use your quirk

Shinsou, thinking: how is always able to pull us out of repercussions for our actions?

Battel Trial

Finally back to what this whole things should have been about! Jeez that took forever and I’m starting to get sleepy typing

Based on the pros and cons you gave and also what amusing me the most because I’ve writing this for 5 hours is that the Villains (Shinsou and Uraraka) should win.

Once Izuku gets over the fact he’s having to battle his basically second brother, Shinsou calms him down and tells him it’s fine, just pretend we’re sparing with Tenko again, he gets pumped af to brawl. Maybe a little too hyped up, since it makes his energy levels twice the ridiculous amount they were before and makes him even more jumpy and animated. Iida interprets this as him not taking things seriously and chastises him for it, which pisses Izuku off because he is taking it seriously. It’s just not being expressed in the way Iida expects it to be expressed. So, he’s definitely not as helpful to him as he could be while in the planning phase, and might have made things a bit harder than they needed to be when explaining the blueprint, just to annoy him.

Shinsou and Uraraka don’t have this problem and quickly come up with the idea to put the bomb on the roof. This is so Uraraka can use her quirk to send things high into the sky with only her nausea as the limit instead of the ceiling, and they’ll bring some more ruble and boxes up there too so she has ammo. She’ll try to stay as quiet as she can to guard and hide the bomb while Shinsou is a few levels below to make the heros think the bomb is there.

A trick they have up their sleeves is that Uraraka noticed that the blueprints had really weird airducts (something only she would notice because it’s so minor) and when they went to check it out, the airducts were actually tunnels disguised as airducts. So now the villains have a way of getting around that the heros don’t, and won’t be seen. With Uraraka directing him from the blueprints, Shinsou has his own private hallways! He can definitely use this in combination with his voice changer :)

I’m not too sure how the fight would go down, but some parts I think would happen is Shinsou trolling them from inside the tunnel with his voice changer. I don’t think he would spring the mind control on him just yet, Izuku taught him to have Fun™ afterall, and would switch between Inko’s and Tenko’a voices while messing with him. I just want my baby to create some psychological torture ok Another thing would be them finding the bomb on the roof and when Izuku’s about to grab it, that’s when Shinsou uses his mind control with AFO’s voice. I’m guessing they had some family videos with him in it so that’s how we knew what his voice sounded like.

Like you said when Izuku got controlled he was in a jump so when he fell he breaks out, but at that point Uraraka had moved the bomb and Shinsou is dealing with Iida. They’re running out of time so Iida and Izuku are starting to become a little desperate, so Iida yells at Izuku to use his quirk on him to make him extra fast so he can grab the bomb. He does, but Iida doesn’t expect it to be so powerful since the other times in the exercise Izuku used it on him he was holding back. Iida becomes a knockoff Sonic and shoot towards the bomb way faster than he expected. He didn’t expect to go the speed of Retro Burst without trying, so he overshoots it and ends up falling off the ledge near Izuku. He’s able to catch himself on the roof, but he’s not able to pull himself up without help and he’s starting to slip. Izuku has to pick between the bomb and Iida, and he decides to save Iida. While pulling him back up the timer goes off and the villains win.

Iida thanks him for saving him while Izuku just kinda goes “Duh, I wasn’t gonna let you get badly hurt if I could stop it. Annoy and inconvenience maybe, but not hurt. Of course I picked you. Anyways gotta go bug Hitoshi”

Just because Izuku is a dramatic bitch, while they’re walking back Izuku jumps unto Shinsou’s back and starts rambling to Uraraka and Shinsou about how cool their plan was, asking about the voices in the hallway and Shinsou’s new mask, clarifying some parts of their plan he didn’t get, and just generally being very animated and his talkative, analyzing self. Iida starts to think that maybe he was too quick to judge the green bean