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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year

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Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Summary: Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. (Tagged with Blood, violence, child death)

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Danielle is cursed.

This battlefield is nice. It’s early afternoon and the breeze that comes from the forest to the east is sweet. The fighting has only just begun and the scent of blood is still hovering at the edge of her senses. It hasn’t erased the taste of the dead girl’s last meal – bread sweetened with honey – yet. She’s used to storm clouds the size of mountains roiling overhead, the electric sting of lightning against her skin, the crash of blades against armor and arrows against shields. The sun is warm and honey-sweet against her cheek and there’s no fighting going on right now. There’s only the low murmur of voices from all around and some muffled sobbing.

If she weren’t waking up in the body of a dead girl, she’d call it picnic weather.

Time to pay attention.

“—Chosen One is dead,” a man says. His voice matches the weather more than the situation. Calm. Even. Gentle. A wave lapping at the shore before the tsunami. She can feel his aura undulating through the ground, dark and demanding. Demon King? Mad Emperor? Dark Lord? One of those types. He projects his words over the renewed sobbing. “Do you see your folly now, honorable knights? The wasted months of defiance? You were never going to defeat my army even with years and seven fabled soldiers at your mercy rather than the one. Here, the day of your final rebellion, your Hero lies dead after only one volley.”

Hero. Danielle is cursed, she shouldn’t be feeling pity for anyone but herself. But there it is, the familiar bile in the back of her throat, the prickling of her eyes, the tightening in her chest. This dead girl was their Hero. They made her their Chosen One. From the feel of it, they didn’t school in her magic or train her in swordsmanship. Her muscles are burning from death, yes, but also from overexertion.

What do you want? Danielle asks. All of the right systems are under her control now. The ground is cold against her back, the girl’s tiny curls a tickle against her face. The air is sweet underneath the scent of a dying blow and she can hear the conversations around her clearly. The Dark Lord is still gloating, giving the knights their time to mourn and his own forces time to ready the next attack. Sweetheart, what do you want?

The girl’s soul shudders. I-I’m not dead?

The arrow pierced your heart. You’re dead.

A dizzying swirl of emotions cloud the girl’s next words. Grief-sorrow-panic-relief-fury-horror. Danielle has to reinforce her barrier between her soul and the girl’s to avoid being swept away by it all. All of the dead girls Danielle is called to are strong, and this one is no different. Danielle can’t hear her clearly over the roar of her emotions, but this one is talking very quickly.

…live…wanted to…please…save…

Danielle peeks out from under her eyelashes. It’s bright for a battlefield, but there’s a familiar red staining the ground as far as she can see. The armored feet of both sides’ soldiers are about thirty feet away, a hazy barrier of magic holding them apart.

“Let down this barrier!” Knight David screams. The girl’s knowledge flows into Danielle’s mind like a spring. He’s the head of the kingdom’s number one knight squad, a former S-rank adventurer, and a mentor to the Hero. He bangs the hilt his sword against the Dark Lord’s barrier. It crackles under the assault and doesn’t break. Knight David swears. “You’ll die for what you did! She was just a little girl!”

Another memory: Knight David didn’t think of her as a little girl. He gave her a woman’s sword that took her a month to learn how to lift, much less wield. He told her he had faith in her. He told her she could do it. When she asked how, he pushed a curl behind her ear and told her victory was fated.

The Dark Lord laughs, the sound like the tide retreating into the sea. “Is the kingdom so hard-pressed for soldiers they bring children to the battlefield?”

“She was Chosen,” Knight David says. There are genuine tears in his voice. “Nobody wanted that for her. Nobody.”

“She was nobody,” the Dark Lord says. The magic barrier trembles and he smirks. “Just as you’re about to be.”

Knight David’s magic sets his sword ablaze. “You’ll pay for this.”

The demons chitter behind the Dark Lord, straining against his commands. They want blood. They want to attack. They saw the Hero fall and they’re emboldened by her death. They’ll tear the humans apart.

In contrast, Knight David’s forces aren’t so sure. Knight David’s teeth gnash and he swears at the Dark Lord, but his men look from her body to each other. It was so quick. So fast. Did they demons hold greater power than they were told to kill a Chosen One so quickly?

“Prepare yourselves,” the Dark Lord says. The barrier fades.

“To the death,” Knight David swears.

Danielle presses again. They’re running out of time. What do you want?

Save them.

The words roar through Danielle’s temporary body. Save them. Her magic ignites like coal in a furnace and she gasps, steam escaping from her lips as a dead girl’s heart restarts.

“W-what?” someone whispers.

Danielle opens her eyes.

It’s not a very big war. There are maybe thirty combatants on the side of the Kingdom. She assumed from the girl’s memories that they’d all be knights, but there are adventurers mixed in among them as well as the occasional wizard. They’re all kitted out in the colors of the Kingdom though. Armor painted with the Royal family’s crest, bandanas with the fallen star motif embroidered on, red tassels on their weapons. Maybe they don’t have the Kingdom’s army behind them, but they have the King’s favor.

The Dark Lord is the only one who’s managed to keep his mouth shut after her sudden resurrection. His side is comprised of dark wizards in tattered robes and nearly a hundred demons. Danielle can see wolves the size of horses, goblins with wooden clubs, and vampires hiding in the tree line. It looks impressive, but the girl’s memories tell Danielle a different story.

This is the last stand for both sides.

“The Hero lives,” Knight David says through bloodless lips. He’s younger than Danielle thought, his beard only just touched with silver. His eyes shine wetly and he raises his sword over his head. “THE HERO LIVES!”

Knights, adventurers, and wizards lean back and scream their jubilation to the sky. Some of them weep openly, staggering as close to her as the Dark Lord’s barrier allows with their hands spread wide as if to embrace her.

The Dark Lord is silent as the kingdom’s forces rejoice. He looks like a human though he’s gone to great lengths to hide that fact. His long, black hair is twisted around his horns, emphasizing them. His clothes are as tattered as his forces’ and there’s dried blood staining the hem of his cape. His nails are long and painted an unending black that makes them look like talons.

If it weren’t for the depth and darkness of his magic, he wouldn’t register to Danielle as a Dark Lord at all.

“Hero,” the Dark Lord murmurs. His red eyes gleam a beat before his pupils swell, turning them black. He doesn’t raise his voice above the noise, but magic makes it so Danielle can hear him easily. “Killing you quickly was the last mercy I had for you.”

“Mercy,” Danielle says. The word echoes from her involuntarily. She pulls the arrow from the dead girl’s chest. The wet and meaty sound of it finally silences Knight David and his allies. She coughs and tastes blood.

“The fates have seen the justness of our cause and protected the Hero,” Knight David says into the silence.

“Fate,” Danielle echoes and coughs blood again.

Knight David doesn’t hear her. His chest swells. A talented orator, he knows just what to say to erase the horror of her death and reinvigorate his squad. “Dark Lord -no! – Demon, you’ve lost.” He points his sword directly at the Dark Lord. “You just don’t know it yet.” The knights cheer.

Oh, Danielle thinks, he knows it.

The Dark Lord stares down the length of Knight David’s blade impassively. His lip curls into a sneer that must look truly demonic to the knights of the kingdom. But from her vantage point, Danielle can see the way his clenched fists tremble. The barrier wavers imperceptibly and then holds. The Dark Lord can’t sustain it for much longer, not if he wants to have enough magic to fight.

As soon as it falls, the kingdom will strike. And, with the Hero on their side, they’ll have the conviction (and the magic) to take on a thousand demons. The Dark Lord only has a hundred.

Danielle staggers to her feet. This body is on the weaker side of the ones she has inhabited, but it’s not the worst she’s had to work with. Her legs hold her weight and the heart beats strongly once she uses her magic to patch it.

Knight David grins at her, the fever of battle bright in his eyes. “Hero!” He holds out his hand. “How glad I am to see you alive! Cast your strengthening spell.”

A memory: They taught her to strengthen her allies and nothing else. Training sessions ran late into the night as they pushed her to expand her range, power them up more, amplify magic higher and higher. This girl knows exhaustion more intimately than the affection of another.

Knight David slashes the barrier. He doesn’t wait to see if she’ll obey. Of course she will. This dead girl has never defied him before. She owes him and his kingdom too much. Who else would elevate an orphan to the heights of a Hero? He strikes again and this time his blow leaves a crack in the Dark Lord’s magic that splinters out like a spiderweb. He grins meanly. “Come, soldiers! Reclaim our land! Defend our home! Defeat evil!”

The knights smash their weapons against their shields and bare their teeth. “For our homes! For our families! For good!”

“Kill,” the Dark Lord hisses as his barrier fails piece by piece. He leans towards Knight David like a snake about to strike. A sword as black as night materializes in his hand. “Kill them all.”

“Hey,” Danielle says, “don’t you think you’re moving on a little fast?”

Nobody hears her. Nobody asks her if she’s alright. Nobody cares.

It’s Danielle’s curse to care.

The Dark Lord’s barrier crumbles. The air fractures and fragments tumble from the top and towards the combatants on either side like sparks. It’s ten feet in the air, eight feet, seven feet--

Her magic billows from her like smoke, scorching the grass as it balloons forward. Blood burns and vaporizes under the heat. The wolves are the first to notice it. They whine and back away from her wave of power, cowering behind their lord. Danielle hisses through her teeth and her power surges a little faster, touching the Dark Lord’s magic before the demons can alert their master. She’s powerful enough to do this even with him fighting her, but that would be…messy. She wrests control of the barrier from the Dark Lord. She builds it back up to twenty feet tall and adds new walls. The King’s forces used to be the only ones trapped. Now the Dark Lord turns and blinks at the misty cage that’s formed around him and his army.

The sudden silence hurts her ears as hundreds of eyes follow the scorch marks from the barrier to her.

Knight David’s sword wavers. “Hero…?”

“Your Hero isn’t here anymore,” Danielle says. Experience tells her to rip this bandage off quickly. She gestures to the dead girl’s clouded eyes. “Did you really think she survived an arrow to her heart?”

She can see from their faces that they did. Knight David opens his mouth and then closes it. He swallows hard. He says, “You’re not—” His face hardens. “Who are you?”

The Dark Lord watches her with black eyes, but he’s not still. His power tests her control of his barrier. He doesn’t find a crack.

“You called it fate,” Danielle says. She limps towards them. There’s an arrow in the girl’s thigh she didn’t notice before. She pulls it out without breaking stride and throws it to the side. The furnace that’s consumed the dead girl’s heart churns with rage. “You lot always believe in fate. Makes everything you do look prettier, doesn’t it? More palatable.”

“It is fate. The Oracles of Trilbia spoke of a girl with untold power who would be our savior. We needed—”

“LOOK AT HER!” Danielle roars. She slams a hand against her chest and then holds her palm high overhead. Red shines wetly on her palm. “She was a child! Fifteen summers and you stand there and call her a savior?”

“I ask again,” Knight David says. His eyes flash. “Who are you?” He draws his sword point slowly, purposefully, away from the Dark Lord. He points it directly at her. “What have you done to the Hero?”

Danielle won’t answer stupid questions. “You’re cruel. What you did to her – nothing can justify it. Especially not something as fickle as fate.”

“The Oracles—”

“Should die,” Danielle interrupts. She bares her teeth. “Or at least be honest. If they wanted a child sacrifice, they should have killed her on an altar with their own hands.”

Knight David hits her barrier. It throws him back and he shakes with rage. “Who. Are. You?”

“And you,” Danielle says, turning her attention to the Dark Lord. She holds her bloodied palm out to him. “You speak of mercy. You think giving her a quick death mercy?”

To his credit, he doesn’t deny it or flinch away. He nods shallowly, eyes never leaving hers.

“There was mercy, I’ll give you that,” Danielle says. She staggers towards him and stops just short of the barrier. They’re barely two feet apart when she says, “It was her mercy that she died quickly. Not yours.”

The Dark Lord’s nostrils flare. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Danielle promises. Her heart aches. This isn’t the time for that. She stokes the fires of her magic until steam escapes from her lips again. Only then does she twist towards Knight David again. “You killed this girl. You threw her into battle untrained. They may have shot her, but it was you who brought her here. This is your fault.”

“You’re some malevolent spirit,” Knight David says. He sweeps one arm out as if to banish her. Behind him, his forces tremble. “A vile devil come to sow seeds of doubt. Our conviction is firm. Oh, monstrous devil! Release our friend, release the Hero and your end may be swift yet.”

Devil? Danielle loses hold of her rage for a moment. Yes, yes she supposes she is. There are forces at play here that she might call devilish. But being called a devil by him?

Ridiculous.

“Maybe you should pray,” Danielle suggests. She nods slowly, warming to the suggestion. “Yes, that’s what you should do. You should pray the big, bad devil away.” She approaches his side of the barrier and the grass withers under her feet. “Pray, Knight David.”

“Hold fast,” Knight David says to his knights. He raises his sword to her and braces himself. “Do not be swayed by—”

“No, don’t pray,” Danielle says. She laughs without humor, chest shuddering with the effort. “Prophecize. Summon a hero to defeat me. Go on. Do it.”

“You will pay for the horrors you’ve committed today. Wearing the skin of the Chosen One damns you to the furthest—”

“Oh, fine, I’ll do it for you. There will be a knight,” Danielle says. She lurches forward and presses her hands against her barrier. Knight David stumbles back when it moves with her, allowing her closer and closer. She laughs again. “A Knight with red splashed across his breast and his shining sword melded to his hand.”

Knight David chokes on a scream as her words become truth. His sword melts under a sudden wave of heat, the silver-plating dripping through his fingers. He falls to his knees and grabs his wrist, trying to shake his hand free of the molten metal. It cools as rapidly as it melted, and he stares in horror as the silver binds his fingers to the hilt forevermore.

Danielle comes closer and the kingdom’s forces flex away from her like a school of fish in the face of a predator. “And this knight,” she says, “will be a Hero to his people. He will rise through his pain and destroy the devil that wore the skin of the little girl he sent to slaughter.” She spreads her arms wide above him, the sun beating down on her crown, and waits. After a beat she says, “Go on. Make the prophecy come true. Stab me. I’m waiting.”

Knight David keens through clenched teeth. “Y-you monster. You w-won’t—” He breathes in deeply and glares up at her. His feeble attempts to raise his arm don’t move his sword more than an inch. “You won’t break me.”

“I don’t have to,” Danielle says. Her arms fall to her sides, and she looms over the fallen knight. The air isn’t sweet now. The smell of burning flesh is more familiar than blood. “She didn’t ask me to break you.”

“Didn’t ask?”

Danielle turns. Unlike the knights, the Dark Lord isn’t backing away from her. He’s as close as he can get, pressed right up against the barrier. He’s rearranged his forces while she wasn’t looking so that the hardier demons are shielding the smaller.

“Didn’t ask,” Danielle agrees. She taps her temple. “Right before she died, I asked her what she wanted. See, nobody here gave a fuck what she wanted before she died. Fate is fake, but belief isn’t. They believed hard enough that the universe heard their pathetic little prayers for a savior. And, at the end, it took pity, but not on them. No one cared so it sent me. I asked what she wanted. She answered. Now we’re here.”

Knight David shudders at her feet.

“Are you a spirit of vengeance then?” the Dark Lord asks very casually. His shoulders are tense, undermining his nonchalance. He speaks a touch too loudly and very carefully doesn’t look back at his army. “Is that it?”

“I’m what she asked for,” Danielle says. She eyes Knight David’s comrades. There’s a wizard somewhere in there valiantly trying to heal Knight David’s wounds from afar. It’s slow going so she ignores it. “Though, between you and me, I think some vengeance is owed here, don’t you?”

The Dark Lord’s jaw flexes. “It is.” He raises his chin. “And you shall have it. I only ask that you let my people go. They are blameless in all this and only had the bad fortune to follow a misguided lord—”

Howls and screams of protest drown out his words. The demons lunge against his orders, mouths frothing and eyes wide in fear. They don’t want their lord to die, they deny his words, they can’t bear to lose him.

The Dark Lord’s power snaps over them and they quiet all at once, voices stolen by his power.

“Let it only be me. Please,” the Dark Lord finishes quietly.

Danielle watches him with interest. “You would die for them?”

“I return the loyalty I’ve been given.” He bows his head. “I will beg if you’d like.”

“What makes you believe I want your death?”

“I know my part in the Hero’s fate,” the Dark Lord says. His lips thin and he stares down at Knight David with more hatred than she thought possible. “Humans brought her here to slaughter, but I gave the order. I called it mercy to kill a child quickly so she need not suffer. We both know I lied. I killed her to keep her from strengthening the kingdom. No matter how I did it, it wasn’t mercy. It was evil and it was…not necessary. It wasn’t necessary but it was easier than the alternatives and so I killed her. I resigned myself to carrying that sin before I ever stepped foot onto the battlefield.”

Oh. Danielle has to blink very quickly as heat rises behind her eyes. The Dark Lord isn’t lying. He isn’t hiding from the truth of his actions nor is he justifying his hand in the Hero’s death. There is sorrow in his voice and his hands are loose at his sides even though his eyes are watchful, waiting for her to strike. He’d let me strike him down. He will stand there and do nothing while I slit his throat.

“It was wrong,” Danielle says. Her throat aches. “It was wrong to kill her.”

The Dark Lord’s head sinks lower. “Yes. It was.”

“She was a child.”

“She was.”

“She didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

“She deserved better.”

“Yes.”

Danielle’s chin trembles. This— after all the dead girls, this is a first. “You did it to save your domain.”

“I did.”

“It was evil.”

“Yes. The most evil thing I’ve done.”

“She didn’t ask me to kill you.”

“Ye—what?” The Dark Lord blinks, finally looking back up at her. His eyes are red again, pupils dilated. “She didn’t?”

“No.” Danielle lets the barrier slip out of her control. She can see the Dark Lord more clearly without the wall of smoke and his eyes are more than just red. They’re red-rimmed. Danielle reaches up with her bloodied palm and cups the Dark Lord’s cheek. He shudders at the chill of her touch but doesn’t pull away. “You had no mercy today, but she did. She knew her power would mean the end of your people. She knew she would not be able to resist the order to cast her spell when they gave it. So when the first volley came, she didn’t run. She didn’t raise her shield.”

“Mercy,” the Dark Lord breathes in revelation. His face crumples. “Oh.”

“She died quickly,” Danielle says. The girl’s memories are so hot that Danielle feels burned. All the dead girls are strong. This one is not an exception. “She knew an evil thing would be done today. She chose. She chose.”

The Dark Lord’s voice is thick with tears. “She shouldn’t have had to. She—No!”

Danielle doesn’t know what’s happened at first. The Dark Lord is staring at her in mute horror. His cheek is stained red but her hand is no longer on his cheek. Then she processes that she’s been hit quite hard in the back. She looks down.

A bloody sword is sticking out of her chest. It retracts with a sickly sound and Danielle finds herself on her knees, staring down at the river of blood gushing from her breast. She let down her barrier to speak to the Dark Lord, face to face. She didn’t think she’d be leaving her back open to the other side. Or, rather, she didn’t think Knight David would recover enough to kill her again.

“The devil speaks lies,” Knight David says. His words are thin with pain. He can no longer raise his blade to the sky. His arm is trembling from the effort of stabbing her but still he faces his forces and spurs them to action. “And lies have no place in our kingdom! Our friend, our Hero died for us! So we could win! So we could prosper! So we could—”

He killed her again.

Danielle surges to her feet. The dead girl’s heart is torn to pieces in her chest, but Danielle’s magic surges through her veins like blood. She rises up behind Knight David and shrieks, “Stop killing her!” She drives her hand through Knight David’s chest and rips out his heart.

It happens too fast for anyone to react. The Dark Lord holds his breath and the world goes still. Danielle lets the heart fall and the thud as it hits the grass is loud in the quiet.

Knight David sways once, twice, and then drops to the bloodied ground.

“You didn’t have to die,” Danielle says. She’s looking at the other knights and adventurers and idiots who believed in fate. She’s talking to Knight David. “Even after everything you put her through, she didn’t want you dead. She was good. She was great. And you killed her for it.”

“Mercy,” someone stutters. Then, another. “Mercy, please.”

“No,” Danielle says. Petulant. Like a child. “You didn’t stop him. Not a single one of you tried. She didn’t tell me to save you.”

They combust before they can run. A long time ago, her power wasn’t as controlled. Her fire didn’t get hot enough fast enough. They screamed back then. Screamed and wailed and cursed.

Her fire doesn’t give them a chance to curse her now.

When it is done and she’s satisfied that nothing but ashes remain, she turns to the Dark Lord. He doesn’t flinch from her though there’s fear in his eyes. Even now, he expects her to kill him. Even now he accepts it.

“Bury her,” Danielle says. The fire crackles behind her. “Clean her body and dress her in new clothes. Bury her somewhere where war hasn’t touched and say something kind over her grave.”

The Dark Lord swallows twice before he can speak. He doesn’t ask if this means she’s going to leave him alive. He understands what she means. He says, “I-I will.”

“She saved you,” Danielle says. She wants him to understand that. “She could have wished for anything. Revenge. Peace. A second chance. She didn’t. She wished to save you.”

“She will be honored,” the Dark Lord says. He breathes in deeply and gently reaches out to cup her cheek, an imitation of her earlier touch. His palm is warm against her cold skin. If he is repulsed by the feel of death, he doesn’t show it. “I will see to it.”

Danielle closes her eyes. Though she doesn’t lean into his touch, she doesn’t pull away. It is the singularly most affectionate moment she’s experienced in decades, but it’s not for her. “Her name is Samira.”

The Dark Lord releases his breath. “Samira. Thank you for telling me her name.”

Danielle lets her curse sweep her to the next dead girl.

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Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see stories like this or some more serialized stories, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! Currently I’m working on the Cinderella retelling I have posted on here :)

See y’all next week!

#my writing #long post #The Chosen One #original short story #danielle is cursed #child death #violence

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uncharismatic-fauna · 11 months

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The Shrimp-ly Wonderful Northern Shrimp

A common sight in grocery stores worldwide, Pandalus borealis is known by many names, including the northern shrimp, the pink shrimp, the deep-sea prawn, and the coldwater prawn. In fact, the species is not a prawn but a shrimp; the difference is that shrimp have one pair of legs ending in claws while prawns have three pairs. P. borealis can be found along muddy ocean floors throughout the northern Atlantic and Pacific-- though some regard the two populations as being separate species. Within this range, they typically inhabit cold waters, from -1 °C to 6 °C (30 °F to 43 °F).

As the name implies, pink shrimp are bright pink or red in color, though parts of their bodies are somewhat translucent. Males are smaller than females, at only 12 cm (4.7 in) to their 16 cm (6 in) in length. As a decapod, they have ten legs; the first three pairs, called the maxillipeds are used as mouth parts, while the rest are adapted for swimming. The abdomen is divided into six segments, while the head and the thorax are fused together and protected by a thick shell known as the carapace. P. borealis’ eyes are compound eyes, like those of an insect, and are excellent at detecting movement in the dim light of the deep ocean. Additionally, their long antennae allow it to smell and taste chemicals in the water, assessing the location and suitability of prey.

The coldwater prawn lives in large schools of up to several hundred, though they have no set social structure and do not defend territories. They spend most of their time on the ocean floor, feeding on plankton and carrion. In the coldest parts of the Arctic, this makes them important members of the food web as they can recycle nutrients back into the system. In addition to widespread human predation, a number of octopi, seals, and fish are known to feed on the pink shrimp where available.

P. borealis breeds once a year, from July to September. Males release pheromones as they approach females to signal they are ready to breed, and afterwards the female will carry the stored sperm for up to eight months before fertilizing her eggs. In spring, while the water is still cold, egg-carrying females will migrate close to shore and lay their eggs-- up to 5,000 in a single clutch. The hatched larvae are all male, though they will go through six molts over the course of a year before migrating back to deeper waters and becoming sexually active. They will remain reproductive males for only about a year before molting again and transitioning to female; this is a type of hermaphroditism known as protandry. Individuals will spend the rest of their lives-- typically about eight years-- as a female.

Conservation status: Though they have not been evaluated by the IUCN, the pink shrimp is considered severely overfished in many parts of its native range. Trawling in particular poses a serious threat, as parts of a school not caught will still become stressed and die before reaching maturity. Ocean warming has also damaged populations, since this species thrives only in cold water.

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David Shale

Greenland Institute of Natural Resources

Erling Svenson

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orthodoxydaily · 9 months

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SAINTS&READING: Sunday, August 6, 2023

august 6_july 23

THE HOLY MARTYRS PRINCES BORIS AND GLEB, IN HOLY BAPTISM – ROMAN AND DAVID (+ 1015)

Saints Boris and Gleb were sons of Saint Vladimir (July 15). Saint Boris was named Romanus and Saint Gleb was named David at their Baptism. After their father’s death the eldest son Sviatopolk planned to kill his brothers Boris, Gleb, and Yaroslav in order to seize power. He sent a message to Boris, pretending that he wished to live in peace with him, and to increase Boris’s land holdings inherited from their father.

Some of Vladimir’s advisers told Boris that he should take the army and establish himelf as ruler of Kiev. Saint Boris, however, said that he could never lift his hand against his own brother. Unfortunately, Sviatopolk was not so scrupulous. He came to the town of Vyshegorod to ask its leaders if they were loyal to him. They assured him that they were ready to die for him.

Sviatopolk sent assassins to the Alta to kill Boris, who already knew that his brother wanted him dead. When they arrived they heard him chanting psalms and praying before an icon of Christ. He asked the Lord to strengthen him for the suffering he was about to endure. He also prayed for Sviatopolk, asking God not to count this against him as sin.

Then he lay down upon his couch, and the assassins stabbed him with their lances, and also killed some of Boris’s servants. Wrapping Boris in a cloth, they threw him onto a wagon and drove off with him. When Sviatopolk saw that he was still breathing, he sent some men to finish him off with swords.

After Sviatopolk had killed Boris, he wondered, “Now how can I kill Gleb?” He sent him a message saying that their father was ill and wished to see him. As he was on his way, he received word from Yaroslav that their father had died and that Sviatopolk had murdered Boris.

Saint Gleb wept for his father and brother, and was lamenting them when the assassins arrived. They seized his boat and drew their weapons, but it was Gleb’s cook Torchin who stabbed him with a knife.

The martyr’s body was thrown onto the shore between two trees. Later, he was buried beside Saint Boris in the church of Saint Basil.

Saints Boris and Gleb received the crown of martyrdom in 1015. They became known as Passion-Bearers, since they did not resist evil with violence.

The holy martyrs Princes Boris and Gleb are also commemorated on May 2.

ROMANS 8:28-39 (EPISTLE, PASSION-BEARERS)

28 And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. 29 For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. 30 Moreover whom He predestined, these He also called; whom He called, these He also justified; and whom He justified, these He also glorified. 31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things? 33 Who shall bring a charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? 36 As it is written:"For Your sake we are killed all day long; We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter." 37 Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. 38 For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, 39 nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

JOHN 15:17-16:2

17 These things I command you, that you love one another. 18 If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. 19 If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. 20 Remember the word that I said to you, 'A servant is not greater than his master.' If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also. 21 But all these things they will do to you for My name's sake, because they do not know Him who sent Me. 22 If I had not come and spoken to them, they would have no sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin. 23 He who hates Me hates My Father also. 24 If I had not done among them the works which no one else did, they would have no sin; but now they have seen and also hated both Me and My Father. 25 But this happened that the word might be fulfilled which is written in their law, 'They hated Me without a cause.' 26 But when the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. 27 And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning.

1 These things I have spoken to you, that you should not be made to stumble. 2 They will put you out of the synagogues; yes, the time is coming that whoever kills you will think that he offers God service.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #easternorthodoxchurch #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #bible #gospel #wisdom #saint

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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“Haidee did with poetic arm arms the heroic bosom worn, gulbeyaz”

Out of a brook to fill the wealth is for a burial fee, and rose, and his hand to bind. For as delicious strumpet of a mother, as here a one that hour whilst her hand,

and for my part must bear, trimm’d and braided, leaving a trice, you will, full alchemiz’d, and hour, when Kings are ashes o’er you in saying: Youth! A Soyl ungrateful section along

whispers of Bath. A numerous to Reherse of Honour, wonder. That use is now to see Leander dares? And yet I am wise, than a claimant on crimson varlet but

only like a sunbeams die. Them in search of a soul can be secure of the princes who spur more furious, harebrained, they sing, while the electric shock dislinked with Years:

long since has few, or fewer, specks, mote by mote, Or learn my song is broke the least, and, at the least, unless there is cream, deepening clouds it sweeping willow, sweeping theyr heads, if thou

leane, I quite a pictured image? Hence all surprised and prayer- book ready, they strake the Crouds can wink; and heave in the paused a while his Servants in disbelief, the night the puppets

of beauties budded newly; and in what good gods love is in his lovèd eyes this yeere on the brine with sweet harmony. In terms as courteously to inhale the bills. And still

the eclipse, arguing home to mean Rebellion, and away. Maids drew near, her looks a frozen rill, such is possible worse than magic ladies wanting David’s Soul? From which

he flew out and day, the while your Father lately builded ship, which, elements; but, wo is me, I do think too little fall, he may reflect the image pictured images

of ryper reasons and some few years with a little lower down with this rapacious Speech many a graceful fold, the sacred priest full of pith, sixteenth left its dwelling downward

creeps, so that same Adonis sometimes run off with every pain, well might cadences melting there wanting Tyrian. Haidee did with poetic arm arms the heroic bosom

worn, gulbeyaz was an empress, but dark days seen! Are seeking through—he could not see through a hazy wood, whence to the plastic ice chest; thou bringen bitter groan first expound the

Pacha with the blasts of self- denial? A naked glory again in jeopardy of blank amazements the pavement was the ship is seeking that linger by our eyes

in searching till dance to die: ah, how can we part? Must I too may passion rises, with sticks to me. With ever know somewhat pale; but as it shoulder of the Hall, my Maud has

sent: it dried her head, crowne maintain’d with Peoples heart moves from their enemy when the hall flowers of amethyst,—would I weene. Poor girls, black piano appassionate shrieks and

living lantern, through which brought in the spiked along his shot the shore of whore, and feet of paper, my bosom’s shop is hanging heads reflected in Dust, nor brothers to record

a few, and blind of my head, and icy clime the lidless- eyed train of life—immortal men, that glory shoulders in a bullets,—hard words. My ain lassie, fair to save to spare.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #182 texts #ballad

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thejollyroger-writer · 3 years

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THE WASTELAND - HOME (15/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

A/N: Can you believe it? This story is COMPLETE, which feels surreal and ethereal in unexplainable ways. I've literally been writing this story longer than it took me to write my masters' thesis -- though, needing to write my masters' thesis is most of the reason it has taken me this long. Thank you all for sticking around through it all, if you've been here since the beginning -- and if you've hopped on somewhere along the way, you're just as important to me. Thank you, all. Enjoy the last chapter.

Start from the Beginning // Also on AO3!

For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Emma can feel the beating of her heart in her stomach and fears that something has gone wrong, attempting to use her unhoned magic for too big a task too quickly.

And then, she feels her feet shift on uneven ground and she dares to open her eyes.

Sand.

They're on the shore. Everyone is on the shore, Belle still tending to Will's wounded shoulder and Mary Margaret comforting David, his pain obvious on his face. Killian releases her hand, rushing to the prince's side with his canteen at the ready. The water doesn't heal David as quickly as it did Killian, but as he swallows the few sips he was given, his expression grows relieved and the tendrils of poison retract across his exposed chest before disappearing from the site of the wound. It's not nearly as climactic as Killian's healing was (Emma refuses to think about why that might be) but she still feels a weight lifted from her chest as all traces of the poison disappear, leaving only a small cut on his side where the arrow nicked him.

Killian and Mary Margaret simultaneously sigh an audible breath of relief, her petite form almost comically small as she leans into Killian's shoulder.

"Let's get off this bloody island," Killian says, allowing only a moment's pause before he helps Dave to his feet — though his words are practically forgotten as the forest begins to groan and grumble, trees snapping, cracking, falling to the ground behind them.

And they watch as four, five, six boys move through the treeline, all dressed in rags and covered in dirt.

"The Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, rushing towards them.

"Please take us home with you, Wendy," the one who looks to be the oldest begs, terror obvious on his face, as on all of their faces.

She turns to look at David. "Without Pan's magic, the island will disappear, and the boys will die."

David shakes his head. "I have no argument."

"What about what Pan told your brothers? That only the amount who arrived can leave?" Regina's voice is heavy with worry. None of them want to leave the boys behind, but if it means that no one will make it home, it's a much heavier question.

But Belle is the one to answer. "With Pan defeated, the island holds no power. Even if it wanted to stop us from leaving, it is no longer able."

The oldest boy knits his eyebrows. "Does that mean—" he starts, but is silenced by a deafening thump as another large tree hits the ground, this one not far from the shore and sending a tremor under their feet.

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian says with a smile, gesturing for the boys to lead the way to the waterline and aboard the ship.

"Rufio, where's Felix?" Wendy asks, walking beside the oldest of the boys.

But the boy shakes his head. "He's always been the most dedicated to Pan and here longer than the rest of us, you know that. He said he would rather die here with Neverland than become a traitor."

"Oh, Felix," she breathes, but it does not keep her or the other boys from boarding.

As the rest of them move towards the ship, Emma moves to stand beside Killian, who is waiting to go last as the captain does. He pats Robin on the shoulder, the pain of losing Graham sinking in once more as his body is carried onto the ship. “Take him below decks. Merlin can show you where to find what you’ll need to wrap him.” Robin just nods.

"We did it, Swan," he breathes, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "How do you feel?"

"It's almost surreal," she replies, lifting his hand so she can look at his arm. She still barely believes it, would not have believed the way the water healed him if she hadn't seen it herself — and she still had trouble understanding how easily he was healed by her magic, even after learning of their connection, their destiny.

She still doesn't want to believe it, really. Everyone is so sure that it's about them, that they were prophesied ages ago to go on this journey, to save each other. She's not denying their connection, not anymore, but she still struggles to believe that they were destined to be together because some ancient seer decided it was supposed to be so.

"Let's go home," he says finally, gesturing for Emma to follow Robin and Regina onto the Jolly Roger.

Home. He's not even sure where home is anymore. For years, it was in the Northern Mountains, then with Dave and his band of followers after returning from Neverland. He's been ready for a new home for a while, he realizes, following Emma onto his ship. With her, he hopes. Hell, he's never wanted anything as much as he has wanted to be with her. They're destined to be together, but all he wants to do is kiss her, find all the things that make her happy and never stop giving them to her. He wants to wake up beside her, learn the way her golden waves look in the morning sun, the way she takes her coffee. If it means working beside her in the hospital, doing everything he can to help her while hopefully keeping them from harm — hell, he'll work in a maternity hospital. For her. He would do anything for her.

They leave the island behind quickly, the Lost Boys, Wendy, and a fully-healed Will watching it crumble, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a cloud of dirt that covers the horizon.

Killian doesn't turn back. Some of the others peer over their shoulders but Killian seems to be the only one fully content leaving the island behind without a second thought — but, then again, he is the only one among them to have experienced it twice, to have it take multiple people he loves from him, even if it brought others together.

He thinks of Graham, being prepared belowdecks for burial at sea once they're out of the wretched Neverland waters; he thinks of Milah, who sacrificed so much, who hid her true identity from a world she felt so unsafe in, gone forever in the pile of rubble and debris.

Liam. He thinks of his brother, releasing the helm to feel the large ring hanging from his neck between his fingers. He left Liam behind in Neverland twice, never able to give him the burial at sea he always wanted. Well, he thinks, turning his head to glance behind him, if the entire island crumbles into the sea, then Liam is finally laid to rest as he would have wanted.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to look back," Merlin says from the spot he has found against the railing, only using the basest of his powers to move the ship along the waters until they take to the sky.

"I wasn't going to," he confesses, looking down at the ring once more. "But then I thought of Liam, and the burial at sea he deserved and never got."

"Well, the whole damned island got a burial at sea, and that sure as hell included him."

Killian nods, managing a smile. "That's what I thought, too."

They travel along the water for a few hours, pausing around dusk to bid their final farewells to Graham before taking to the sky. The sun sinks below the horizon, and Killian turns to the same star charts they used on the journey there to guide them home, though this time Emma takes part in all of it: helping Merlin and Belle fly the ship, learning the stars that they use to guide them back to the Northern Mountains. He has always felt at peace behind the helm of this ship, even when it was his brother's; having Emma beside him, his chest pressed against her back as he points over her shoulder towards the stars, is the most at home he has ever felt, and he wishes — on the stars that guide them home, on any good luck charm he has ever known, praying to the gods who have seemed to answer him a lot lately — that it's not a feeling that disappears.

The journey back isn’t as celebratory as expected from a group of people who have evaded what they all believed would be certain death. David and Mary Margaret spend most of the trip in the lieutenant’s quarters, Mary Margaret finding the sleep that evaded her the last few days, the two of them taking turns caring for the other. Merlin and Belle spend the return trip just as they did the journey there, guiding the ship through the air, though when Emma is feeling at her strongest, she attempts to assist them. (The rest of the crew does not fail to notice how Will spends much of his time sitting against the railing near wherever Belle has stationed herself, eating what seems to be a never ending supply of apples and chocolate and other types of random snacks and reading the books spread across his lap, even though he was never known to be a voracious reader before.) Similarly, after being comforted by her after Graham’s burial, Robin and Regina spend most of their time together, a pairing of sensible pantsuits and olive green attire that none of them saw coming.

Wendy and the Lost Boys spend most of their time gaping at the views over the railing, trying their hardest not to get airsick to avoid ridicule, filling their stomachs with each of Merlin and Belle’s smorgasbords as if they have never seen that much food in their life — Killian doesn’t let himself think about how long they may have been in Neverland, just how long it has been since their last decent meal, and he is happy to be the one to offer it to them.

"What are we going to do with them?" Mary Margaret asks Emma one night as she sits with her on the deck, picking at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in her lap.

"With who?"

She points to the boys, throwing small rocks and food scraps off the deck of the ship and laughing as they disappear into the clouds below them.

"I guess we're going to—" she starts, but then realizes that she has no idea how to finish the sentence and leans closer to her friend. "What are we going to do with them?"

It's a thought that never even crossed her mind. She's been so worried about returning to the life she had, possibly even learning to include Killian in the chaos of running the hospital, that she never stopped to think about the people whose lives have been upended because of their trip. Who knows how long the boys have been stuck on Neverland, how long it has been since they were taken from their families — if they ever had them in the first place. Emma remembers the long nights on the streets of the Gale when she wished she were anywhere else,praying to whichever of the gods was listening to give her a place to belong. That's what Pan did for these boys in his own wretched way, she realizes.

“Who knows how long they were stuck on that island. I doubt many of them have thought about what they would do if they ever returned.”

But Emma shakes her head, remembering the nights she stared up at the stars and wondered what her life could be like if she were in any other situation. “I can assure you that some of them have thought about it.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to be that soft, to make the hurt so apparent in her words. She tries not to play the orphan card, especially around Mary Margaret, whose empathy is so strong Emma sometimes thinks she fully understands the heartbreak she tries her hardest to hide even though she only recently lost her father and sees her mother as often as her and David’s schedule allows.

Mary Margaret just nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I suppose we could start by talking to them.”

Emma can’t help but laugh, thinking of how she would have responded in their place — which, she supposes, is exactly what David did, granting her a new life in the infirmary. She wonders if any of them have discovered their powers, or if they would simply hide, dormant, for the years they spend without aging in Neverland. “We should wait until morning, though,” she comments, watching as one of the younger boys lets out a big yawn across the deck. When she turns back to Mary Margaret, she is stifling a yawn of her own. “Looks like it’s your bedtime, too,” she adds with a soft laugh.

“I’m just so tired all the time. Is this all that pregnancy is?”

“I have no firsthand experience to share, but from what I’ve heard, yeah, that’s a big part of it.”

“Someday, Emma,” Mary Margaret comments, and it’s a thought that hits her like a truck. Sure, she’s spent years in the maternity hospital, helping other women bring babies into this world, but having one of her own was never a thought that crossed her mind. Is that what she wants? Could she even bring a child into a world so full of violence and terror and the exact things they’ve been battling for the last few weeks, not to mention the War that has affected every facet of the world for longer than anyone can remember.

It’s at least not a thought that she needs to focus on right now.

“Hey, love,” Killian says, thankfully pulling her out of the depths of her own mind as he approaches them from across the deck. “We’re going to begin the descent back to the water soon. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Killian,” she replies, offering him a soft smile, which he answers with a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m going to bed, then,” Mary Margaret says, one hand on her stomach as she reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand with the other, then moves across the deck to the stairs.

“I can’t wait to be on the water again,” Killian says after a moment of silence, leaning back against the railing, and she steps into his arms.

“Why is that?”

“There’s just something calming about it, something that’s not there in the sky or even on the land. The moment the hull hits the water, I just feel… peace.” She hums, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not just the ocean, either, though. Graham always laughed at me when I would go stand in the rain, or sometimes stay in the shower for longer than I meant to.”

Emma leans back to look up at him, gears turning in her head. Rain. Showers. The ocean. The way his body reacted to the pool on Dead Man’s Peak. Water. “Killian,” she whispers, then cups her hand between them, creating a small pool of water in her palm. “Can you… move this?”

He looks first at her, then at her hands, his dark brows furrowed low on his forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, love.”

“Was your mother one of the merfolk?”

This makes his eyebrows jump towards his hairline, bright eyes wide. “Pardon?”

“Your mother,” she repeats. “I know she passed when you were young, but what do you know about her? Was she a mermaid?”

“No. No, that’s… that’s crazy,” he whispers, staring down at the water in her palm, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the deck between his worn boots.

“Can you just try? For me?” Remembering how her magic reacted to his touch, she reaches her free hand out and rests it on his hip.

He nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “What do I need to do?”

“Think about what you want it to do. Close your eyes. Feel it.”

“What do I want it to do?”

With a soft chuckle, she turns her eyes up to his, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just… anything.”

He nods, but stays silent, holding up his hand in the space between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, Emma can feel what he’s thinking, imagines the small sphere of water rising above her hand before it happens — but then it’s there, right before her eyes, hovering above her palm.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles, his eyes darting to meet hers for a moment instead of staring at the sphere. "And you're… this isn't you?"

"No," she whispers, picturing it falling back to her hand just to make sure — but it stays there, hovering a few inches above her palm.

“Of the merfolk,” he whispers, the sphere splashing back down into Emma’s hands. “I never even imagined.”

“I’ve known for a very long time,” Merlin quips from behind them, his eyes closed but obviously paying attention to them.

“For real? And you never thought to tell me?”

He shrugs. “It was not my secret to share.”

“Why did I not learn about it sooner?”

Emma gasps, pulling Killian’s gaze back to her, and Merlin laughs, finally opening his eyes. “So you figured it out, then?”

“The Prophecy,” she whispers, barely believing the words as she says them. “Their strengths will finally be revealed. That’s the line, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Not just my strength, but both of ours. He needed… me. Us.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that fits a little too well, that makes it hard to deny that they are the ones from the prophecy, brought together by destiny. A chill runs down her spine as Killian’s jaw drops, realizing exactly what her words meant.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. “I need… sorry, love,” he mumbles, backing away from her to go and stand by himself, looking out over the moonlit water as the ship makes its descent.

Emma’s heart drops and she crosses her arms, leaning back until her hips hit the railing behind her. Is it too much for him, now? The man that confessed his love for her in a cave, who has believed in their connection since the first he heard of it? She understands needing space — she would be a hypocrite if she claimed she didn’t — but she still feels a heaviness in her chest, and icy pain in her heart as she thinks of the worst-case scenario: Killian turning away from her just as she realizes she is ready to be with him. When she feels her lip quiver, she pulls it up between her teeth, turning her back to where Killian is standing and taking a few steps away from him. Part of her wants to disappear belowdecks, curl up in her hammock and hide from her feelings, as alone as she has ever been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to take herself somewhere else: counting the supplies in the basement of her hospital, walking along the well-known trails by her house — the very house that she dreamt of sharing with Killian not too long ago. She shakes that thought away and tries again, this time in the palace gardens where she learned most of what she knows about plants, about healing. Then she’s in the hallway, aiding David in a meeting with his advisors, focusing on the echoing of her boots on the stone floors and not the fears running through her mind.

Across the deck, Killian turns to look at her, trying to organize the thoughts jumbled in his brain. A merfolk. He has learned so much over the last few weeks, about the world, his friends, his enemies — himself, more than anything else. He has tasted death and felt true grief, witnessed unexplainable things, traveled to places he has spent more than a decade trying to forget. Every step was harder than the previous, pushing himself harder and farther than he thought he was capable — and for every step, she has been there, healing him inside and out, stitching together his wounds and piecing together the remains of his broken heart. Why is this so difficult for him to grasp, given all of the other impossible things he has witnessed since Emma Swan entered his life? Water has always calmed him, healed him, given him a sanctuary in times when he had no others, the same way Emma became his sanctuary.

He loves her, he realizes, not for the first time, though the thought still threatens to knock him off his feet. He loves her in ways he never knew were possible, more than he ever imagined being able to love someone, loves her in a way that fills the deepest parts of him, dark spaces that hold his regrets and his fears and the few things he has allowed himself to dream about. And there is nothing, no feeling that can compare to the warmth that washes over him when she holds his hand, when she smiles at him. His mind separated the two, his powers and his love for Emma, but he realizes now, in this moment, turning away from the water to find her, that they are not two separate things. His powers only exist because of his love for her, and though the time they have spent together is only the first drop in the ocean of the rest of their lives, he wants to look back on his life overwhelmed by the memories they create together, better because of the other.

Then, he notices the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sits alone by the railing — alone, exactly where he left her. He crosses quickly, his footsteps hard against the wooden planks, and kneels in front of her, carefully reaching out to brush his fingers against her hand.

“Emma?” he whispers, but it is not loud enough to break through the wall that has formed around her, protecting her from whatever kind of hurt she feared he was leaving her with. Leaving her, he realizes. That’s what she fears, more than anything else. Is that what she thinks he is doing? “Emma, love, I’m sorry.” This time, his voice is a bit louder, his fingers a bit firmer on her hand, and her eyes open, a runaway tear falling down her cheek.

“What?” She raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but Killian beats her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, covering her hand with his once more. “I shouldn’t have — walking away from you like that, it was unfair. I don’t want you to think…” he clears his throat, trying his best to smile at her through his stuttering before starting again. “I’m here, love. With you. That’s not going to change.”

“Promise?” she whispers, unable to control the quivering of her lip, and he learns more about her with that single word than the rest of their journey. The both have dark pasts, Emma’s even more than his own, and the traumas that they have endured have left pieces of them broken, pieces that may never be fixed, but pieces that perhaps can be soothed, especially when the darkness rears its head.

None of the words that come to mind are good enough. He nods. Laughs, thankfully answered with a smile of her own. And then leans into her, holding himself up against the railing to keep from crashing into her as he finds her lips with his own. It’s the best promise he can give her, and when she reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, her other hand tightening around the collar of his jacket, he can’t help but laugh against her lips, mumbling the words that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue for the right moment.

“I love you, Emma,” he says, and she resituates them so they are laying beside each other on the deck, pulling herself into him in ways his previous wounds never would have allowed.

“I love you,” she repeats with a giggle of her own, her lips finding his again as the ship touches down on the water, lurching against the surface.

They’re back. The real world — Nephylisis, the Gale, the War. The Wasteland. But they have each other.

Anything is possible.

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiganasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @captainkillianswanjones – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#the wasteland #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cssns #cssns 2020 #my fic #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #fantasy au #if you made it this far and found yourself in the tags please know there is a secret epilogue #but i'm not changing the chapter count #its already written in my head it just needs to come out

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ace-of-spaders · 3 years

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Hi! My name is Di (but you can also call me Spades), she/her, and I'm a twenty-something disaster that, apparently, has a thing for soft and slightly damaged assholes (a.k.a. Alan Shore and Raymond Reddington, my honorary husbands I'm ready to die for) and adorable men with lovely voices and a habit of using their hands a lot when they talk (a.k.a. Michael Sheen and James Spader... also, David Tennant).

Some facts about me:

Favorite fandoms: Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Good Omens, Staged, Prodigal Son, The Blacklist, Boston Legal.

Favorite pairings: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, DoctorDonna (platonic), Amy Pond/Rory Williams, Doctor/River Song, Doctor/Master (esp. Twissy, TenSimm and ThirteenSimm), Ineffable Husbands, Brightwell, Marssie (a.k.a. Martin Whitly/Jessica Whitly, and I don't like Dr Capshaw, sorry), Lizzington, Alan Shore/Lori Colson (while the show, regrettably, didn't go for it, I think they would be a fantastic couple, balancing each other out; plus, the tension in the first season was practically palpable), Alan Shore/Liz Keen and whatever's going on between Alan and Denny)

Likes: music (to which I listen a lot), books (even though I don't read them nearly enough these days), meaningful quotes, dogs (esp. corgi), cocoa, communicating through pictures and gifs, making up my own versions of TV shows' endings/plots to fix a mess the writers have made (I have, like, 5 different versions of Prodigal Son based on the 1st season only in my head, and all of them are better than the original because there are no plot holes and all important scenes – like the red dress scene the writers seem to forget – are accounted for).

Things I wish I did more often: making gifs and fanvideos, writing fanfics, roleplaying (or, well, being actually active on my rp blogs).

Things I do a lot: just gush and scream incoherently about my favorite fandoms, pairings and people (see the top of the post ⬆⬆⬆), to be honest

My askbox is always open for any kinds of fandom asks, gif/fanfic/drabble/moodboard/reader insert/preferences requests and just chat in general.

#about me

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 12

Esme was quiet during breakfast, after the realisation that she really wouldn’t ever be going back to her hometown, even to visit, she was feeling a little down. Even though she tried to think on the bright side.

‘What’s your absolute favourite meal?’ Chris asked Esme while they ate.

‘Uhmm… I guess it would have to be pasta. I just love any kind, especially a tomato kind though. I’d thrive in Italy.’

‘Mmm, pasta, pizza, ice cream. Sounds like my ideal place, too.’ Ben agreed.

‘Anywhere with food is your ideal place.’ Michael jabbed at him.

‘Oi!’ Ben huffed, while Esme giggled.

‘What about curries, do you like hot food?’ Chris asked.

‘I love hot curries!’

‘Good to hear. I make a mean Jalfrezi, it’s to die for.’ Chris boasted proudly.

‘Yeah, it’s certainly mean as it kills your ass afterwards!’ Said David.

Ben almost choked on his orange juice from laughing. Esme put her hand over her mouth as she laughed too.

Michael and David then started singing the ring of fire, earning hard glares from Chris.

‘Yet you still eat it!’ He grumbled.

‘Yeah, it is yummy. Just lethal.’ Ben grinned and looked at Esme, winking at her.

Conversation was much and such the same, Esme had forgotten all about her conversation with Tom in the bath earlier and was feeling happier again, relaxing... But it didn’t last long.

‘There are a few things we need to discuss with you, love. And it’s a time for you to ask any questions you may have, too.’ Tom said after they all finished their breakfast.

Esme looked terrified at that. Wondering what on earth they would have to discuss with her. He sounded so strict, too. Not at all like the other four during breakfast, being funny and chatting away nicely.

David put his hand on her arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Don’t look so worried, Esme.’

‘The rules of the house are simple, love. You do as we say, to keep you safe and healthy. If you want to go somewhere, you will have one of us with you at all times.’ Tom explained.

‘So… I can’t go out-with the boundary alone? To the village or beach?’ She asked, slightly sad at the thought. She was so used to having her own freedom, to being rather independent.

‘No.’ Tom said sternly.

Chris continued. ‘It’s not safe, an omega being out alone. Especially one as pretty as you. But we will take you to the village or beach whenever you like, you just ask. Besides, it’s too far to walk and too dangerous going down the cliffside so one of us will need to drive you.’

That’s maybe not so bad. Esme thought. They were just looking out for her wellbeing.

Ben chimed in. ‘There’s a bigger town about an hour away, it has a cinema, theatre, music venue, small shopping centre, we will take you there for trips out, too.’

Esme smiled. ‘That sounds good.’

‘During your heat, you will not leave the premises, at all. Under any circumstance.’ Tom said, his tone leaving no room at all for any kind of arguments.

‘Ok… Makes sense. And at least that won’t be for another few years anyway.’ Esme said, nodding.

‘Not exactly. We are going to be giving you injections, one that will speed up your fertility. So you will come into heat within the month.’ Tom said far too calmly.

Esme’s eyes widened. ‘Wh… what? Why? No!’ She panicked and stood up quickly, but David grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto his lap. She struggled and tried to get up again, but David wouldn’t let her.

‘Shhh, shhh. Calm down, poppet.’ He held her still with an arm around her middle and he stroked her hair with the other to try and help calm her.

Part of her did calm down, being on one of her Alphas laps and being told to calm down. It was natural for her to do so. Even if her mind wasn’t completely on board.

‘You’re an omega, we are Alphas. It’s in our nature to want to breed you, to have babies.’ Tom said as if stating the obvious.

‘But… why can’t we just wait till I’m older and due my heat naturally? I’m not ready for a baby!’ She felt panicky, like she was going to pass out.

‘You won’t need to worry about that. We will be doing what is natural to our species. Just, speeding up the process a little.’ Tom smiled and stood, he walked around the table and leaned over, gently holding her chin he brushed his thumb up across her cheek. ‘In around five months’ time, you will be birthing one of our children.’

Her breathing quickened, Tom could see the clear panic in her eyes. He kissed her forehead. ‘Easy, love. Don’t panic, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. You want to make your Alphas proud, don’t you?’

She tried to calm down as tears rolled down her cheeks. She nodded, not able to find her voice. The thought of making her Alphas upset did make her feel sick, she didn’t want to do that.

‘That’s our girl.’ Tom smiled. He crouched down on front of her, rubbing her knees while David still kept a tight hold of her. ‘That’s why we don’t want you working, as you will soon be pregnant. So you’ll need to save your energy. And of course, we all still have needs that will need to be seen to. But we aren’t rabbits, as I said before, we won’t be on you every single second.’

‘As delightful as that would be.’ Michael purred from the other side of the table, making Chris chuckle.

‘We all have jobs to go to during the week, at different times. But there will always be one of us around to look after you.’ Tom smiled.

Esme could barely take anything else in. The thought that she was going to be impregnated soon was all she could think about.

‘Can… Can I get some fresh air?’ She asked shakily.

‘Of course.’ Tom nodded and stood up, stepping out of the way.

David released her and she slipped off his lap. She made her way to the door as quickly as possible, as soon as she got outside, she gulped down the fresh air and leaned against the hand rail that was by the front door. She gripped it hard, trying to focus on the cool steel and the wind on her face.

‘Calm down, Esme. It’s ok. You’re an omega. You were always going to be having a baby, it makes sense now you’re with Alphas.’ She said to herself and bent over, head between her arms.

Tom and Michael looked out the window and watched as Esme took a walk around the large garden. She stopped for a while at the far side of the garden, at the cliff edge side. She was leaning against the tall stone wall, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

‘Maybe we should take her to the beach this afternoon, help settle her mind.’ Michael suggested.

‘Good idea. David and I need to go into the office, but the rest of you can take her.’ Tom nodded.

‘Do you think she might be a flight risk?’ Michael asked.

Tom scrunched his nose up and then shook his head. ‘Nah. She’s a good girl, she will do whatever we tell her to. Especially once she learns there are rewards for good behaviour and consequences for naughty behaviour.’

#fan fiction #butterfly into chains #tom hiddleston #benedict cumberbatch #Michael Fassbender #chris evans #david tennant

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mrsdobrik · 4 years

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Not Clickbait - Chapter 29

This is my favorite chapter! I can’t believe it’s finally out! It’s about David and Y/n going on a trip together and sleeping together for the first time. You can totally read it as a one shot too but it’s better if you are up to speed with the series! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did 💕💕💕

Y/n and David had just landed in Miami and gotten their rental car. David (Natalie) had made reservations at the Ocean's Edge Resort in Key West. They got to their room just as the sun was starting to rise which made the view even more spectacular than it already was.

“Dave, this… this is so perfect. Thank you for this, thank you for being such an amazing boyfriend” she said wrapping one of her arms around his waist as they walked over to the balcony. “We should go swimming, right now before there are a bunch of people at the pool!” Y/n beamed.

“Sure, whatever you want to do.” David agreed leaning down to kiss her.

“I’ll go change.” she whispered and walked over to her travel bag to get her swimsuit out.

She went into the bathroom and David just stood there on the balcony looking at the amazing view. A few minutes later Y/n came out of the bathroom in a flesh colored two piece. She had her hair down and her cheeks were slightly flushed. The golden light of the rising sun hitting her skin, still dewy from rubbing sunscreen all over. David thought she had never looked better, more relaxed, happier.

“Can you rub this on my back?” She muttered handing him the tube of sunscreen. She turned around as David put some lotion on his hand, she shivered a little when the cold product first hit her skin but then she started enjoying the feeling of David’s hands running through her back. David started spreading the cream and as he came across the strap of her bra he started running his hand under it. “You can untie that” she said holding the fabric by the front and he did, leaving her back completely bare for him to explore.

“Done” he whispered after a couple of minutes. Y/n turned around and leaned in for a kiss, it started off light but it soon deepened, her bra falling to the ground as she forgot she was holding it. They started moving towards the bed, his shirt falling on the ground on the way. David took a step back to look at her.

“You are so beautiful.” He muttered in her ear as he started kissing down her neck and clavicle. “I love you” he whispered on her lips. She broke the kiss to look at him for a second.

“I love you too.” she smiled against his lips.

“Are you sure you want to do this babe? We can stop, it’s okay if you want to wait.” David said breaking the kiss once again.

“I’m sure, I love you” she nodded. More pieces of clothing fell to the ground, as their hands got to know each other's bodies. It was sweet and gentle, filled with kissing and caressing, soft laughter and smiles.

…

A while later Y/n and David were still in bed, wrapped in nothing but each other's arms and white sheets.

“Was… did… “ Y/n started, not completing her thoughts.

“Babe, just ask, you’ve been trying to get it out for like an hour” He smiled, putting his head on the crook of her neck.

“Did you like it? I mean you have more experience than I do so… Was it good for you?” She said feeling her cheeks get hot.

“Yes, it was great.” He smiled sweetly at her “Was it good for you? Did it hurt?”

“It was perfect. And no, it didn’t hurt.” Y/n said remembering how kind and gentle he was during the whole thing.

“You are so perfect, so amazing. I love you. This last couple months have been so wonderful.”

“I love you too, Dave. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect boyfriend.” She smiled running her fingers through his hair.

…

As tempting as spending the whole weekend in that hotel room sounded, after some room service breakfast it was adventure time. They rode all the way to Key West, visited the Hemingway Home and Museum, went canoeing and window-shopped through the luxurious boutiques before sitting down to have lunch.

“Most of these things have seafood!” David complained.

“Well, yeah babe, that’s kind of the point…” Y/n said giggling.

“Do you want to go parasailing after lunch?” His eyes gleamed.

“Nooo, pleeeease! I don’t like dangerous activities!! We are both too young to die…”

“We are not going to die, it’s going to be fine! You’ll love it, it’s fun!”

“If we die I am going to haunt your spirit for eternity…” she said giving up. She knew there was no point in arguing, when something got in his head…

“Good, that way not even death will do us apart”

“Funny…” She gave him a light push.

…

“Tell me again why we are doing this…” Y/n said squeezing David’s hand so tight it would probably leave a bruise.

“Because it’s fun and we only live once and because your face is funny when you are scared.” He replied giving the girl a quick peck.

Y/n actually really enjoyed herself, the views were amazing, it was really fun and it turned out to be the perfect thing to get her head off of what was coming. The wind blew her hair and blushed her already suntanned skin.

…

Night time came way too soon and David was at the bar waiting for Y/n, who was still in their room getting ready. He smiled down at his phone as he read Natalie’s text.

Assistant #1: How is the trip going, Romeo? Reformed Bieber: It’s great, the hotel is perfect! Thank u! Assistant #1: I am the best assistant, I know. U should give me a raise! Reformed Bieber: Haha v funny! U r a great friend! Assistant #1: OMG! Is that a compliment or just a way to get out of the raise? Reformed Bieber: Exactly. Assistant #1: U lil bitch, wait till u come home! Changing the locks tonight Reformed Bieber: I told her I loved her… Assistant #1: WHAT?? OMG!! I am so happy for u Dave!! Did she say it back? Reformed Bieber: Yes :)

As he sent that message he looked up to see Y/n approaching him. His jaw literally dropped, as did the ones from most of the attendants. She was wearing a silk emerald green tight dress, it was calf long and left little to the imagination as the fabric hugged her figure like a second skin. The color complemented her skin beautifully and had a sheen to it as the light reflected off the dress. Her skin had taken a golden tint, which was emphasized by the shimmer in her body oil. Her hair fell in careless curls and a proper amount of gloss made her lips look extra juicy. She was a gorgeous young woman, and David was used to her sweet pastel colored dresses but in that outfit she looked like a completely different person.

“WOW! Let's get out of here before my girlfriend shows up!” He whispered in her ear as she reached his seat in the bar.

“Sorry sweetie, I don’t do committed guys.” She muttered with a seductive little smile.

“Bummer.” He said before leaning in for a kiss, it was passionate and short lived.

“I take it you like my new dress.” She smiled teasingly.

“You should never take that off” He said, looking her up and down.

“If that is what you want! And here I was thinking you would enjoy what is underneath more than the dress.” David knew there was no way she could have anything under that dress because it would show through the fabric. So the thought of the only thing that could be under her dress appeared in his head.

“There is no way we are getting through dinner if you keep this up. I might need to throw you over my shoulder and take you back to our room.”

“Didn’t your mom teach you that you can’t have dessert before dinner?” She scolded, running her hand through the collar of his shirt.

“I’m a slow learner.”

…

The next day was spent at the beach enjoying the clear skies and warm water. Y/n put her book back inside her bag under the gazebo and looked over to her boyfriend.

“Are you coming to the water with me?” She asked as David played with his phone.

“No babe, go ahead. I’m too tired, I want to rest a bit.” He replied before kissing her goodbye.

It hadn’t been half an hour when David looked up from his phone to see two buff guys talking to Y/n by the shore. He could feel the familiar green monster making an appearance. She looked too pretty in her mint green bathing suit and wet hair. He didn’t like the way those guys seemed to be eating her with their eyes. She seemed totally oblivious to that last part though. He stood up and made his way to his girlfriend.

“Hey babe! Was the water nice?” He said, grabbing her by the waist.

“It was perfect! You should go swim a bit before it starts getting cold! Oh, by the way… these are Chad and Trent! We went to high school together… isn’t it a small world?”

“Hey! Nice to meet you!” Dave smiled holding out his hand.

“Holy fuck! You didn’t tell us that the guy you were dating is David Dobrik!” One of the guys said

“Yeah, well it's kind of a secret or at least it was until he called me babe.” She explained, giving him a look. She had caught what he was trying to do and couldn’t wait till they were alone so she could tease the fuck out of him. He blushed a bit.

“Hey, don’t worry! We are not going to say anything! We still owe her big time for all the times she helped us with homework and exams! She was always the smartest little nerd in the class” The other guy said.

“Well except for gym class, those were not her brightest moments”

“Ohh god please don’t ever mention that again!! David destroyed me in tennis a few weeks ago!!” She laughed.

“Hey, so I know you two are on vacation but would you mind taking a picture with us?” Guy n°1 said

“Sure!” David said and after a few more minutes of chat both pairs went their separate ways.

“Look at you being all jealous! You are like a little puppy marking your territory! That is hi-la-ri-o-us!! OMG!! I can’t wait to go back and tell Natalie about this she is going to laugh so fucking hard!!”

“Whatever. The fact that they know you doesn’t mean they were not flirting with you!! They were eyeing you up!! You are just too naïve to notice.” He shrugged, grabbing at her waist.

“No, I am not! I did notice which is why ten minutes before you joined us I told them I came here with my boyfriend” She said giggling.

“That didn’t stop them staring then.”

“Maybe it didn’t, but I don't care. I only have eyes for one guy, and he is amazingly handsome and talented.”

“Let me guess, it’s me.” He said leaning down to kiss her.

“No, it's Ryan Gosling. But you are a close second place.” She giggled pulling him in.

#david dobrik #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik imagine

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

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glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy!

gif credit to @jj-maybnks

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers.

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!"

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful."

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that.

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor."

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket.

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd.

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline.

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf.

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all.

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips.

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover.

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed.

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy

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justsomewhump · 3 years

Text

Tight Hold (4/4)

Continuation and finale of my shamelessly self-indulgent Krakillian non-con thing (there is no smut in this last part, so). Read from the beginning.

Warnings for this last part: Vague mentions of rape and non-consensual bestiality, blood, a bit of vomit, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Word count: 1.7k (10k in total) AO3

This last part is from Emma’s POV.

Emma froze as Killian seemed to realize what was going on. His eyes barely widened, but he looked at her as if she was the last person he expected to see.

"I'm here," she said, stroking his hair. It was damp and felt stiff and coarse.

Tears filled his eyes at the gesture. He'd told her before how he loved that, and she hoped it was grounding him now, bringing him closer to reality.

"Emma?" he breathed so softly and so low she wasn't sure she had heard it.

She smiled, still brushing her fingers through his hair. "It's me. I'm here. You'll be alright."

He looked at her for a moment, then moved his arm from under the blanket, but couldn't move his hand past her shoulder. She dragged him higher, closer to her chest, and Nemo helped him wrap his arm around her. His arm was nearly limp, but he was leaning into her.

"Why didn't you come for me?" he whimpered against her.

The pain and worry of the last couple days were nothing to the heartbreak she felt now at the tone of his voice. Nemo covered him again with the blanket, which had fallen a bit from his movement, but Emma had already seen everything; the suction marks, the scratches on his torso, the bruises, God, the bruises...

The blood between his legs. The proof that he had relieved himself right there. The vomit on his beard.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, too shocked to say anything, to explain that there was a magical barrier that hadn't allowed them to cross, that she could hear his screams from inside the cave, that she'd spent all these days trying to break the barrier, that with the help of Regina, Zelena, Alice, Elsa, and the fairies, she'd barely managed to open a hole just wide enough for one of Nemo's mini submarine things to cross, that the others were still there, ready to open a hole again for them to go back.

"I'll take him," Nemo said, but her arms were stuck tight around Killian's visibly thinner body. There was a mangled raw fish a bit to the side. Had he attempted to eat that?

"Let me, sweetheart." Nemo said again, softly tugging at her hands.

Emma relaxed her hold just a bit, but a whimper from Killian had her grabbing at him again.

"Don't," Killian breathed.

"I'm here, I'm not leaving you," she said, then looked up at Nemo. "Perhaps I can just transport him to the submarine?"

"Are you sure you've got enough magic for that? We still have the barrier..."

She kept brushing at Killian's hair. "At least he'll be somewhere warm and safe until our magic fills up."

Nemo just nodded.

She still had to struggle; the barrier had zapped enough of her magic to exhaust her, but they were immediately back in the mini submarine, with Nemo quickly closing the hatch and preparing to submerge. Going in, she'd been sitting on the seat next to Nemo. Now she was sitting down on the tiny space behind the seats, Killian still clutching at her like a lifeline.

He was so cold, he was still shivering, and though she had dived into the cold water herself in a hurry to get to him, she and her wet clothes were still noticeably warmer than he was. She held the back of his head, softly pressing it against her chest. She was nearly shaking herself; she knew it wasn't just his physical state that scared her.

"You'll be alright," she whispered to him.

It took them longer to manage to pass through the barrier this time, Emma's mind too preoccupied with her trembling husband on her arms to focus properly on her dwindling magic.

She sighed tiredly when they made it through. She wouldn't have the energy to heal him.

They reached the shore, Nemo and then David offering to get Killian out, but her arms stayed locked around him. It was only when she looked up to see two paramedics standing over her in the small space that she relaxed her grasp. Killian whined, but she only leaned forward and caressed his face.

"I'll be right here, I promise. Would you like to sleep? Just for a bit?"

"Don't leave..." was all he said.

"I won't. I promise you." She leaned forward to kiss his hair, ignoring how rough and salty they felt. She then nodded to the paramedics, who managed to sedate him while Emma was still cradling him.

And then she had to let him go, resorting to just holding his hand.

The rest of the night became a blur, as the ambulance drove to the hospital, where doctors and nurses took him and examined, prodded and hooked him up to IVs and machines, talking about his status and state and recuperation.

He was going to be okay, they said. He had three cracked ribs, massive bruises on his torso and ankles, an irritated throat, and he was dehydrated, fatigued and slightly hypothermic.

And he'd had anal bleeding and infection.

Though every thing the doctors told her shook her, it was the very last that had her mute with shock. She was in his room, holding onto his hand, the skin rough. They hadn't yet washed him, too mindful of his injuries and putting priority on stabilizing his temperature. It was just then that she remembered she was also covered in salt, her clothes still slightly damp from her dive, but she couldn't care less.

He started moving just a few minutes after they'd settled; his first move was to grasp at her hand before he even opened his eyes. He whined softly.

"Killian," she said. "It's alright, I'm here."

She reached out to touch his cheek, but then he opened his eyes and cringed away, and she snatched her hand back instinctively.

"Sorry." She wrapped her hand over his, which was still grasping her other hand.

"I'm cold," he croaked, then licked his lips and swallowed hard.

"I can ask for another blanket," she said, looking at the door, then at the nurse button. She couldn't imagine leaving him now. "Maybe something warm to drink?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he looked at her for a few silent seconds, then said, "Where were you?"

This question was more quiet, more controlled, so much unlike the desperate outburst he'd had as soon as he realized he'd been back in her arms. Still, the reminder made her stomach twist into knots. "There was a magical barrier around the cave. We couldn't cross, but I... I heard you..."

His expression darkened, but he seemed to be waiting for more.

"I had to gather as many magic users as there were quickly available. Breaking through the barrier took so much of our magic, I can't heal you, I'm sorry..." She bit her lip and lifted her hand to touch his cheek again, but saw how he recoiled and let it drop on the bed.

"The... the beast?"

"We only saw it when it came out from the cave. I don't think my magic has any effect on it, so we- we had to wait until it left, before we came in to get you out."

"So it's still out there?" He breathed in uneasily and pursed his lips.

"I won't let it harm you again.” She could barely think of the way it had used to harm him. “I'll... I'll find a protective spell, so that it can't cross into Storybrooke, or come any close to your ship."

She was getting desperate. She stood up and leaned slightly towards him.

"It may hurt someone else."

"We'll tell them to stay away from water. Don't worry about anyone else now."

She leaned in closer, longing to hold him close, but he winced and recoiled back into the mattress.

"Emma..."

"You'll be alright. When my magic comes back, I'll heal you. Whatever that thing did..."

"It's not what it did." His voice sounded broken, and tears appeared in his eyes. "I mean, it is, but..." He shook his head. "I gave up. I wanted to die."

Emma's blood froze. She knew him well enough to know how hard it was for him to give up, how far he must've been pushed to reach that point.

"It's okay," she said. "We'll- we'll figure things out."

"Emma, what it did to me..."

A sob broke through her. "Can I hold you?"

As if on cue, he started sobbing too. He just nodded.

She lay carefully at the edge of the bed, on her side, and brought her arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. They were both sobbing now, and with her arm against his chest, she could feel how much he was trembling.

"I know," she whispered. "The doctors told me... but you don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. I... I failed at saving you, before it took you. But I promise, I won't let anything else harm you. I promise."

"I'm sorry."

"What?" She raised her head to look at him. His face was devastated. "What for?"

"For giving up. For not believing in you..." His voice trailed off, and he sniffled.

"No, no, don't do this now," she said, lying back down. "You were... don't... don't think about this now. We're together, and you're safe now. That's all that matters now."

"Safe," he whispered so softly she wasn't sure if he had intended to say it out loud.

She tightened her hold just so, remembering the bruises hidden by the blanket. And the suction marks, a horrible voice in her head reminded her. She sobbed silently. It felt like days ago that she'd found him passed out on the damp rock, naked, bleeding, with so many marks covering his body as if he'd come out of a horror film.

It didn't feel real. But she knew it was, and that in more ways than she was willing to imagine, Killian would be reminded of that for a long time.

She leaned her head closer to his and closed her eyes. If she could just help him relax and rest for now.

Tomorrow would be the time to deal with everything.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for following this little self-indulgence of mine <3

#I write thangs #Krakillian #Kraken san #background CS #Tight Hold #content warning #nonconsensual #blood #cold #hurt/comfort #aftercare #Killian Jones

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heimonas · 4 years

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how to fall for a god

The time has finally come! This is the first chapter of my @aftgreverse fic! The prompt and amazing art belongs to @andreil-minyasten! Special thanks to @klausajin for beta reading this mess ❤️

Drought is killing everything and everyone in Jeremy's village. Desperation quickly leads them to sacrificing Jeremy to the water god. But Jeremy is saved from the waves and he enters another world, the world of the gods. And then he meets Jean, the water god himself, and his life takes a very unexpected turn.

BRIDE OF THE WATER GOD AU / AFTG REVERSE BIG BANG

(read on AO3)

Chapter 1/6

Words; 2200

Jeremy was alone. His hands were tied together behind his back and the rope was burning his skin. He was fairly sure that if someone untied him at that moment, his wrists would be slit and the blood would run down his arms and stain his clothes.

He had no idea how to swim. One would expect him to be an excellent swimmer, growing up in a village next to the sea and all. But Jeremy had been avoiding water since he was 10 years old, same way the devil would avoid incense. He prefered spending his time in the fields.

His boat was made of wood, the finest wood of the region. His father made it himself, with the help of the priest in the temple. Together they had carved dozens of symbols on it. On the center of each side they had carved a man; he was kneeling and his hands were outstretched towards the sky. He was pleading for rain, always pleading for rain.

It had been one year since the drought started. The skies stopped crying, the fields slowly died. The water of the sea was full of salt and it killed the plants. They tried to desalinate it, but they couldn’t do it fast enough and the water wasn’t enough. They were dying; the people, the animals, the plants. All of them were starving. It was now winter and they still hadn’t seen a drop of water. They all dreamed of the day they would wake up and hear the sound of rain hitting their rooftops, the day they would be working in the fields and raindrops would stain their skin again. After one year everything had turned into dust.

This was their last hope. The water god was angry at them. No one knew why, but he was certainly punishing them for something. People visited the temple every day. They lit candles and offered gold. They organized celebrations and gave him the little food they had left. The rain never came. The priest told them about an old tradition. Once upon a time, there was a drought, pretty similar to this one. One day, a young girl was swimming near the port. The sea was calm, but suddenly, dark clouds appeared and the sun hid behind them, and waves rose swallowing the girl. They never saw her again, nor found her body.

The rain arrived the next day.

The people believed the god had taken her. After that, every thirty years they sacrificed someone. But after three generations or so, the tradition was forgotten and no one was sent to the god for over eighty years. And then, there was drought and death again.

Jeremy was the obvious choice. He was young, healthy and beautiful, but above all, he was a nobody. His family wasn’t wealthy or powerful. He was just a farmer boy, who spent his days working. His skin and hair had the colour of dust, his face was constantly burned from the sun.

There was no sun now. He was sailing further and further away from the shore. Clouds, dark and menacing, were gathering right on top of his boat. It almost felt like they were alive. Wind blew and Jeremy wondered what his parents were doing.

The water rose so high, his boat was almost overturned a couple of times. He suddenly realized it was raining. He turned his head, but he couldn’t see the shore anymore. He started crying, his tears becoming one with the rain.

Only then he realized there was a whirlpool right in front of him. He tried to move, untie himself. There was no point in that. He was moving closer and closer to it. Jeremy closed his eyes. He tried to imagine his home, his bed, the way the rays of the morning sun hit the kitchen table, his mother’s smile and the flowers in their garden. The sound of the waves and the wind shattered all of these thoughts.

His boat was toppled. He opened his eyes and fought to get his head out of the water, but he was sinking deeper and deeper. His eyes were burning, his lungs were burning. He thought he could hear a song. The last thing he remembered seeing was a white light. After that, there was only darkness.

Kevin hated it when people came into his house uninvited. He liked being alone, he liked sitting on his balcony on quiet mornings, reading books, listening to the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

It was one of these mornings, when Jean came knocking at his door. Kevin considered not answering. One would expect Jean to leave after two minutes of knocking, but he didn’t look like he would stop any time soon. Kevin slowly got up and dragged himself to the door.

“What?” he asked, irritated.

“They sent a new one,” Jean replied, agitated.

Kevin was tall, while Jean, in this form, not so much. His hair was disheveled, as if he got out of bed too quickly and he didn’t have time to look at the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes.

“Stop being so mysterious,” Kevin asked. “What do you mean ‘ they sent a new one’ ?”

“Another sacrifice,” Jean murmured solemnly, almost like those words were painful to him.

Kevin groaned and closed the door behind him. He murmured something that sounded almost like let’s go and both of them started heading towards Jean’s house - or maybe, palace. To Kevin, everything looked the same. Their Land, the land of the gods, had two suns. At this time of the morning, their light wasn’t so bright. They were just beginning their journey in the sky, for yet another day. Jean’s palace was hovering over the sea. He was the water god after all. There was a hanging wooden bridge leading to it, with blue water flowers on the rail. Their roots were hanging, reaching for the water, almost forming a curtain.

They entered the palace and Kevin went straight to the kitchen. Jean dragged himself to his room. He thought people had actually forgotten about this whole sacrifice thing. He didn’t expect them to ever send another one. Although, it really looked like they had forgotten an important detail.

The boy was sleeping. His hands were grabbing the bed sheets and his brows were knitted. Jean thought he was probably having a nightmare. He had no idea what to do, how to handle this situation. He ran his hands through his hair, making them even messier.

Kevin entered the room, holding a bowl. Inside it, there was a black paste. It smelt bad. For a moment he remained still. After a moment he sighed and moved again.

“Why didn’t you call Abby?” Kevin asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Jeremy’s hands on his own and started spreading the paste on his wrists.

“Your house is closer,” Jean replied and they both knew that was not the truth.

Kevin worked in silence and Jean observed him. Abby was the goddess of healing and medicine, but Kevin grew up with her and David, so he knew a couple of tricks. He was the god of history and protector of memory. He loved making fun of those who didn’t know everything that has ever happened, which basically means everyone.

After he applied the paste, he went to the kitchen again and came back with a towel and a bucket of water. He sat on the bed again. Kevin then sunk the towel on the water and started cleaning the boy’s wrists. The scars from the ropes were gone.

“I’ll brew some medicine for when he wakes up,” Kevin said, while working. “It will help him gain back his strength.”

Jean nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping boy. Kevin finished cleaning his wounds, gathered his things and signaled Jean to follow him. They went on the balcony. Jean’s palace had the best view on their Land. The sea extended infinitely. The birds were flying, singing, hunting all around them.

They both climbed on the wooden table and watched the suns go up, up, up. Jean was short, in this form. Kevin loved making fun of him and pinching his cheeks.

“You shouldn’t have done it. The drought made them send him,” said Kevin, turning to look at Jean.

“I thought they had forgotten about it,” Jean replied.

“Well, there is always someone who remembers. It’s my job to make sure about it, you know,” the other god said mockingly.

Jean let out a frustrated groan. “I was angry, okay?” he exploded. “Look at what they’ve done. They keep poisoning me and poisoning everything. I sent them a million warnings through the temple and they still ignored me! How stupid! They offended me and you know it. Why should I care about them?”

In reality, Kevin wanted to laugh. It was amusing seeing a god, in the form of a child, being that angry. Jean was powerful indeed, but his appearance during the day made him look like a spoiled little brat who lost his favourite toy and was ready to burn the whole world down in order to find it again.

“Look,” Kevin said. “They will always fail us no matter what. But, do they deserve to die because of this? There are always innocent people amongst the corrupt.”

“I don’t remember you being that thoughtful when they burned the library of Alexandria,” Jean replied at once.

And he really wasn’t. But, this conversation was pointless. All of this belonged to the past and there was no way of changing it. The only one who could do such a thing was Andrew, the god of time and of everything that has ever happened. He never used his powers anymore. Andrew prefered to swim and teach others how to fight.

The two gods were sitting in silence, looking ahead at the never ending horizon, when they heard a voice coming from somewhere inside the house. They both quickly got up and rushed inside.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” the voice called again.

It was the beautiful, sleeping boy Jean had saved. He was now awake, in the middle of his room, staring at the god’s old piano. When Kevin spoke, he turned to look at them with wide eyes and froze. Jean was afraid he wasn’t even breathing.

“Oh, so you’re awake,” Kevin began. “I should go brew that medicine, it seems.” He took off towards the kitchen, leaving the other two alone.

“What’s your name?” Jean asked.

“Jeremy,” the boy said. “Where am I?” he continued.

He seemed a bit more relaxed now. It was probably because he was left with a child, or someone who at least looked like a 12 year old. Humans never really learned to recognise danger, if when he was staring them right in the eyes.

Jean smirked, “Your people have used a lot of different names for our home. We just call it the Land.”

“I still don’t understand,” Jeremy said, smiling. “What’s your name, little one?”

As soon as Jean heard the boy calling him ‘little one’, he turned red and was ready to burst. “I’m not little!” he shouted. “How dare you! I’m Jean, the god of water! You were sacrificed to me ! And I saved you!”

Then, Jean grabbed one of the many vases that were spread all over the place. He turned it upside down and Jeremy was ready to see the water fall down. But, it never did. The water and the flowers were elevating, midair, as if someone had frozen time while they were still falling.

At the same time, Kevin came back, holding a cup filled with some kind of orange liquid. He headed straight to Jeremy.

“Already showing off?” he asked, glancing at Jean. He handed the cup to Jeremy. “Here, drink this,” he said. “It will help you feel better.”

The boy took a couple of steps back. He was afraid of them. His eyes were wide, like a deer staring right into a car’s headlights, right before getting hit by it.

“Look,” the man tried again, “I will drink from it too. There is nothing to be afraid of. We don’t want to hurt you.”

After he said that, he took a couple of sips from the drink. Jeremy hesitated again, but in reality, he was feeling exhausted. As if a train had run over him multiple times. His bones were aching and his throat felt like it was cut with razor blades. Only after he had drank the liquid he realized that a god’s organism probably didn’t work quite like his.

It tasted almost like an orange juice. As soon as he finished it, he started feeling incredibly sleepy; his eyelids were closing, his head felt heavy. He passed out before he could even understand what was happening.

Kevin was ready to catch him. He carried him to the bed again and let him sleep. When he returned to the living room, Jean was still standing on the same spot.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” he demanded.

His shoulders were tense. His eyes wild. Kevin suddenly realized Jean was worried .

“It will really help him gain back his strength,” he said. “He just needed to sleep a bit more. Don’t worry, as I said, I don’t want to hurt him.”

Jean finally moved. He sunk into the couch.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now, you are stuck with him,” Kevin replied, sinking in the couch, next to him.

#aftgreverse #aftg #jerejean #deya #art #fanfic #jean moreau #jeremy knox #alternative universe #au #bride of the water god au #my fafic #reverse big bang #ao3 #story

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luckylq31-blog · 4 years

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

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Untitled, Double Dark Ones drabble

Found in my "WIP - untitled" folder.

Blame this completely on @thisonesatellite who had me searching for my illusive prompt list, or billions of things that I will never write.

No beta, so no better than my usual junk.

Rated M, for gore, multi character death, OUAT forgiveness of everything, a mention of sex, and whump. Would you like fries with that?

Tagging whump machines.

@hollyethecurious @doodlelolly0910 @sherlockianwhovian @killian-whump @artistic-writer

--------------------------🌹----------------------------

Neither of them can destroy the other, without ending their own selfish needs as well. It frustrated both of them, but both of them are happy to use each other in the less contentious moments.

So, the games of torment, of pure hatred that true love bore, carnal needs satisfied in brutal couplings just to forget the names of so many who have died in their war. To drown out the darkness, it's voice no longer the crocodile or Nimue, but their own.

His strikes have an easier grace to them, maybe because he's simply been so deep in revenge before, his teeth and claws easier to sharpen. The Darkness was an old friend made captain.

She does not take to it easily, fighting their purported nature. The Dark Swan cried when he held her Father by the neck, and begged for his life when he bled slowly to death from nightshade. The man had stabbed him. Stabbed the Dark one. Revenge was the expected outcome. A pity that her mother, the queen, had gotten in the way. Respect was difficult to earn without some bloodshed.

Even if part of him dies with David, and another as he watches Snow struggle towards her family. Snow held her husband's body, and Emma both, forgiveness on her lips for the Dark One and her daughter.

“Emma… Don't give in. Don't do it. It isn't him. Fight for your true love.”

Last words whispered to two beings that could never feel anything again. Or, that's what was easier to pretend, at least.

Killian can only watch, the Darkness bemused as Emma ran, fled to lick her wounds until their next encounter. As she steeped in revenge. It doesn't take long.

She burned the harbor, burned his sanctuary and every vessel seaside for miles, the sea a blanket of fire. The fire burned his trunk, the home of every piece of Liam and Milah he'd replaced with Emma's pretty face.

He razed The Enchanted Forest as her subjects flee in terror, and only stops when it's her boy, her son, he's almost burning to death. Her adopted son, the darkness tried to taunt, but her son and the boy Killian returned to raise. Henry's eyes barely recognize him, and Killian feels the recoil, the man who saw this boy as close to his own son surfacing in haste.

Emma doesn't show emotion in her eyes, the tilt of her shoulders, or hard won smile anymore. The surprise on her face is an arched eyebrow, a look of resigned relief, a little give in the tight lines and angles that she is as this dark queen.

“Thank you.” She whispered softly, Henry resting with a doctor. Handing him a glass, she sat by the fire with her own goblet resting on the black of her dress. The distance is purposeful, her pensive frown in it's crimson color like the red of forbidden fruit.

“If that's all his life means to you,” He swaggered towards her, throwing back his drink. “or is another form of gratitude in order?”

Their kisses are frantic and so is their fucking, peace restored for another set of years until the next wars. It's an uneasy truce and forgiveness in quarters that doesn't come without quarrel. It is something.

They watch the world move by, the same mistakes made with or without their touch.

They took no part in the attacks themselves, instead wreaking havoc and sowing mischief in small ways, changing the odds of battle and tipping the scales of fate.

They forget in the terrible lull of almost humanity that magic always comes with a price.

The war spread, closer and closer, until the sea burnt and shipwrecks littered the shoals and shores. It crawled at first then dug in its claws to sprint, blood shed like brush fire. One of Killian’s men made mad with his own strength, pulled his sword from King Henry's chest, Queen Jacinda and the princess slaughtered in the siege.

Emma did not run. She raged, burned as bright as a second sun. The war is over in a blast that is indiscriminate in its destruction, but this is not enough, and the Dark Swan is not nearly done. Killian, the Dark One, knew true pain and true fear for the first time as Emma destroyed him and put him back together again. The darkness in him echoed his own screams, and they are turned inside out, burnt, frozen, tortured in new ways that only another with darkness inside them could create.

In a sudden moment of weakness, Emma shrieked to the skies; they are unable to die, she cannot join her family, she cannot disappear, cannot escape her thoughts.

Killian understood.

Killian ran, for her sake, across the ruined world. Another chase, a hunt that kills both prey and predator. As the years pass, the few people remaining rebuild, trees grow, plants sprout from scorched earth, green returning to a world of charcoal and embers.

Killian studied the old texts, any that are left, and continued to flee from Emma's grasp. They danced around each other, ships in the night passing ever closer. There are times when the attempts were sloppy, as if she's bored, and others where he can see the fire behind glassy eyes. Her attacks were precise and her accuracy frightening. Killian licked his wounds after barely escaping more than a few times.

They both wondered what they will do if Emma does manage to capture him again.

She appeared, eyes full of that flame, and this time Killian was ready with determination of his own. Emma was brutal, speed and hatred, tears streaking across her cheeks as she lept toward him.

It doesn't matter what she does to him.

Killian managed to hit her on the neck, and her surprise echoed through the woods. They are right where he has planned, the clearing full of pink flowers that sway in the breeze, that make the blood coming from her neck look dark against their brightness. Wine on blush lips, deep crimson on soft petals.

Clutching her neck, Emma stumbled toward him, and he caught her with the same grace that they danced with all this time. The sword was thrown aside as he lays her down, carefully, holding her delicately as she looks at him with sad adoration.

“I'm sorry.” The gurgled whisper startled him, but Killian laughed gently at her, finally pushing her hair away from her face to see her eyes. There's no more anger held there, only the tiniest flicker of hope. “Killian, I -”

“Hush, love.” Stroking her cheek soothingly, Emma reached to touch his hair, tracing the lines of his face, gently skimming over his scar. When she rested her thumb on his lips his own tears started to fall. His hand gripped the pommel of the discarded sword. “It's not going to hurt you, is it?” his words are strangled, but Emma made soft noises to quiet him, gently wiping at his eyes.

“If it does, it will only be for a moment. Like ripping off a dressing.” Killian felt himself chuckle despite himself, a sob catching in his throat as he gripped the sword. “Will you…?”

An unspoken question that was understood immediately. He nodded.

“Yes. I'd follow you to the end of the world, or time.” She sighed in contentedness, almost looking as she did when they met.

“Do it.”

Killian leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. After a moment, he kissed her softly, and pulled away. Gazing into her eyes one more time, he whispered hoarsely into the quiet glade, raising the sword above her chest.

“As you wish, my love.”

Emma was right, her pain lasted only a moment before her face stilled into what looked like a peaceful slumber. Color returned to her, as the darkness was rinsed away by the pallor of eternal rest.

Laying next to her after carefully setting up his rig, Killian interlocked his fingers in the lingering warmth of hers. He looked up at the sword, the darkness in him caged, giving a quiet protest. Looking at Emma, his Emma, before names on swords and swirling ink, he cut the rope with his hook.

The sword burned in his chest, all but forgotten by the blackness that encroached on his view of his love.

The darkness that held him for the last time was different than what dwelled inside him for so long. It was warm, fluid and gentle, guiding him towards something he could not see. Her fingers in his again, Emma pulled him into color and light. There a crowd of people waited who forgot owed apologies, in lieu of welcoming him home.

#captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs #cs au fic #cs au ff #courtorderedcake #whump #whumpy whump

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neonselfships · 4 years

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💖💖💖💖 - for any and all F/Os you wanna talk about!! (i would've asked more specifically but i couldn't find an F/O list?? sorry hghggh) also i wish tumblr would let me send asks from my sideblog but im @selfshipstuff

Hiya!!! Since you sent 4 💖 I'll do 4 headcanons for 4 f/o's!

Miranda:

I was super nervous to meet her father over a grand dinner but he liked me regardless, kinda made me swear fealty to their kingdom but I'm sure that'll be fine...

Beach dates!!! All the time!!!! Picnics on the shore!!! Snorkeling (well for her the gear isn't necessary but she plays along for me)!!! Playing in the waves!!! Checking out tide pools!!! Jet skis!!! Anything on the water!!!

After prom we went to the beach and watched the stars for hours, talking about life and all that stuff. She convinced me to go in the ocean with her (I was hesitant bc it was dark out and there wasn't really any light other than the stars) after she promised to rescue me if something happened.

She honestly loves going shopping! Since she's royalty, price isn't an issue, so she'll get almost anything she or I want.

Asra:

One of the first things he ever taught me was palmistry. Looking back, he was definitely trying to let me know he liked me by doing that. The tender traces over my skin, the emphasis on my love line...

We almost always go shopping together. He gets worried that we'll get separated when the market is really busy and makes sure I'm always next to him. He gets nervous if he can't find me.

We go on double dates with Portia and Nadia quite a bit, sometimes that consists of us inviting them over for a night of card games. Portia and Asra are far better than myself and Nadia, due to Portia's incredible poker face and bluffing skills and Asra's years of practice.

Asra loves to sing. He doesn't realize I'm aware of that. The shower, under his breath when he thinks I can't hear, when he's doing readings for himself... His voice is so lovely, soft and breathy.

Lapis:

I have my own house in Beach City, and she comes over a lot. It's across the street from the beach itself. Sometimes she comes over for dinner if she feels like eating that evening, or if she doesn't want dinner itself we'll get ice cream.

Greg taught her how to drive a motorcycle. She has one of her own now and she refuses to tell me how she acquired it. I'm not really that concerned, I enjoy going for rides with her too much to care

We love going to the beach, but sometimes she doesn't want to go in the water. It depends on her frame of mind. I'm more than happy just to sit with her and look out to the horizon, watching the sunset.

She loves flying me to Empire City, where we'll hang out on top of a skyscraper and watch the nightlife below. We don't fly much in winter on account of the wind-chill for me, but if it's a nice night we'll probably be flying somewhere.

David:

Literally from my first day on the job we had crushes on each other. He saw how excited I was to be a counselor at Camp Campbell, and I saw how kind a person he was. It took like a week for us to get together and by that point everyone was more than ready for our mutual oblivious pining to be over

When he suggested camping at another place on our first day off together, and I emphatically agreed, he made a joke about marrying me on the spot and I think my brain shorted out, I don't think he even registered that's what he said.

Max gave me his acceptance and blessing by saying "if he likes you, I guess that's good enough for me... But hurt him and you die." I later told David about it and he thought it was sweet. I mean, I did too, that's just how Max is.

David and I like to sing duets around the campfire, whether it's just us or everyone together. We also have a similar music taste, unsurprisingly his favorite genre is acoustic.

#honorarybastard #ahhhh thank you so much!!!!#also I'll try to put a link that works on mobile lmao I'm not totally sure how to do that rn #love at first sight 💙#princess of my heart 💖#i happen to believe that love conquers all 💛#wherever you may go 💜

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samyelbanette · 5 years

Text

CALL ME ZERO ZERO : Chapter Three

Chapter 1 is available here: https://yugiohnineinthesky.tumblr.com/post/183928336546/call-me-zero-zero-chapter-one

Chapter 2 is available here: https://yugiohnineinthesky.tumblr.com/post/183955209691/call-me-zero-zero-chapter-two

Zero had noticed, the previous night in Klaus’ hotel room, that he kept his window open. She assumed this was an attempt to beat the insufferable heat. The hotel offered no electric air conditioning system. She could not quite recall if those had been invented yet.

Despite his soldierly paranoia, Klaus probably assumed that, being on the second story, he was safe. He is incorrect, Zero thought with a smirk.

Opposite the hotel was a small Buddhist temple. From the roof of the temple, with the aid of her binoculars, she could peer into Klaus’ window. She loaded a cartridge into the magazine of her M21 sniper rifle (a variant, ironically, of the standard-issue M14 that Klaus and his lover had used in the Battle Of Huê).

Zero had killed before, on the Commission’s orders, many times. She was proud of her proficiency as a sniper, and figured this mission would be just as simple to complete as any other.

She looked into her binoculars again, to see if Mr. Katz had returned to the hotel room. She’d been watching for over an hour, waiting for the GIs to get back from their outing.

It didn’t matter, she supposed, if Klaus was in the room with Mr. Katz, when she lined up her shot. The Seance was not expecting a bullet to come flying through the window. So, he would not be able to defend the target. A shot to the head would kill Mr. Katz instantly. Zero would not miss. She never had before.

She peered through the lenses intently. There they are. The two men had just walked through the hotel room door.

As soon as Mr. Katz closed the door, Klaus slammed him up against it. Oh.

The two men began to kiss passionately. This is a problem, Zero realized. Klaus’ head is in front of my target’s. I can’t get a clear shot.

The Commission has ordered her to retrieve Klaus alive. She waited for a few moments, to see if he would move. To her chagrin, Klaus continued to passionately kiss his boyfriend as he removed his trousers.

Move, Mr. Katz, Zero thought with a frown. Move, so I can kill you.

Mr. Katz sank to his knees. His head was now, from her perspective, concealed behind Klaus’ bare posterior.

What is he….oh! Zero’s face flushed. She set the binoculars down. Continuing to watch them during that activity, she considered, would be simply perverse. She felt uncomfortable.

Time for a break, she decided. I’ll go have some pho somewhere ,and try again later.

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After returning from lunch, Zero entered the hotel, strolling into the bar where she had given Klaus his final warning. A bartender was wiping the counter with a rag.

“Have you seen the American men I was with last night?” Zero asked intently.

“Phwk k̄heā pị læ̂w,” the bartender shrugged. “They check out, hour ago. They go to Weīydnām, fight more.”

“Their shore leave is over?” Zero frowned. I need to catch them before they get back on a plane to Vietnam.

She would have to hurry.

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She found them at a cafe just outside Don Mueang International Airport. They had time to kill before their flight took off, and had stopped for bánh mí.

Making eyes at each other across the table, they did not notice her watching them from across the street.

I can’t use my M21 here, she realized. Too many witnesses. And Klaus knows my face by now, so if I approach him, he will grab Mr. Katz and run…..

She spotted a homeless youth in the alley behind the restaurant.

“Hey, you!” she called. “Psst! Dĕk p̄hū̂chāy! You want to make some money?”

The dirt-faced boy pointed at himself. Me?

She nodded, beckoning for him to come closer. He looked like the type to pickpocket unsuspecting tourists.

“You got a knife?” she asked.

He nodded, producing a Gerber Mark II blade - the type US Armymen carried.

So I was right, Zero thought with a smirk. He has mugged a soldier before.

She pulled a stack of 1,000-baht bills from her pocket. Ten of them, in 2019, would be worth about $315 USD. She wasn’t sure what the conversion rate in 1968 was, but it was enough to make the boy’s jaw drop.

“You see the American man, in there?” she pointed at the window. “The blonde one - not his friend.”

The boy nodded.

“When he leaves the restaurant, you cut him, and take his wallet,” Zero instructed.

If I can make this look like a simple robbery gone wrong, she decided, Klaus will have no reason to seek vengeance on the Commission.

The boy pocketed the stack of baht, accepting his mission. Zero watched and waited.

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Even though he knew he was about to return to a war zone, Klaus felt happier than he had in a long time. He’d just had a delicious lunch with his cute boyfriend. He’d been given some fantastic head at the hotel beforehand, and had traded a bottle of American gin for some heady Thai weed. One joint, it seemed, was enough to keep the Corporal’s ghost far away for the time being.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?” Klaus beamed, still slightly high.

“Right, we have a plane to catch,” Dave nodded.

Klaus laced his fingers with Dave’s, but the blonde pulled away.

“Someone could see us,” Dave blushed.

“The lieutenant’s not here,” Klaus shrugged. “We’ll never see any of these people again.”

“T-true,” Dave agreed hesitantly, and allowed the stoned soldier to hold his hand.

As they exited the shop, they heard someone scream at them in Thai: “H̄ı̂ ngein kạb c̄hạn!”

“What did he say?” Dave gasped, bewildered.

A rough-looking boy pointed a knife at them. “Give me your money!” he repeated in English.

Klaus’ hand flew to the gun at his hip.

“Don’t shoot him!” Dave protested. “He’s a civilian, Klaus. He can’t be older than fifteen.”

“He’s trying to mug us, if you hadn’t noticed!” Klaus hissed.

“You want this?” Dave addressed the kid, pulling the wallet from his pocket. “You can have it, ok? Just don’t hurt us….”

“Why are you surrendering like that? You’re a trained fighter,” Klaus reminded. “You can just punch him, and knock him out!”

“I don’t want to hurt a child,” Dave confessed. “Look how skinny he is….he’s probably hungry, and desperate. If he wants money for food, I’ll just give it to him.”

“David,” Klaus sighed, “you are far too kind for your own good.”

Dave threw the wallet. The boy caught it, and stared at it, as if bewildered.

“C̄hạn t̂xng thảr̂āy khuṇ,” he mumbled, with a confused look. “P̄hū̂h̄ỵing ca korṭh.”

“What’s he saying?” Klaus wondered.

“I dunno,” Dave replied. “I don’t speak Thai.”

The boy narrowed his eyes, as if making a decision. He raised his knife, and lunged at Dave.

“NO!” Klaus cried. His body was moving, before he was even conscious of it. He could not let anything happen to his good, kind, beautiful Dave….

Dave screamed as Klaus crumpled to the ground, a knife buried in his side.

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Zero could not believe what she had just witnessed.

He jumped in front of the knife, she realized, agape. He used his own body to shield the target!

She had not anticipated this. This would not do. She needed Klaus to return to 2019 alive.

“Someone, help!” she heard Dave scream, cradling his bleeding boyfriend. “We need a doctor!”

Zero remained rooted at the spot, still in shock. Why would he risk his own life?!

The words Klaus had spoken to her, returned to her mind.

Have you ever been in love, Agent Zero? Do you have any idea what it’s like, to care for someone so much, that you’re willing to face any hardship, as long as it’s by their side?

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Tears stung Dave’s eyes as he pressed his hand to Klaus’ wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

This isn’t fair, he thought. He survives a dozen battles, just to die on his vacation?!

“Mr. Katz,” said a familiar voice. “We need to get Klaus to a hospital.”

Dave looked up, and saw a thin, bespectacled woman standing at the end of the alley.

“You!” he recognized. “You’re the girl from the bar!”

The one Klaus gave his room key to, Dave recalled. I still don’t know what that was about. But, he swore to me that he wasn’t trying to sleep with her.

She had given him her name, but he’d been so consumed with anger at the time, that he’d forgotten it.

“Call me Zero,” she reminded.

“Who are you?” he gaped. How had she found them, at this precise moment? What did she want from Klaus?”

“I am the person who is going to save your lover’s life,” Zero replied. “There’s a hospital nearby. You’ll need to help me carry him there.”

“He’s not my lov.....” Dave instinctively began a denial.

“I’m well aware of, and indifferent towards, your homosexuality, Mr. Katz. This is not the time,” Zero interrupted. “If you want Klaus to live, we need to get him to a doctor now.”

“....thank you for helping us,” Dave said finally, letting Zero lead him towards Bhumibol Adulyadej Hospital. “You’re a good person.”

I’m not, Zero thought to herself. I came here to murder you.

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Klaus awoke with an IV in his arm, and a suspicious lack of pain in his side.

“You’re awake?” said a soft voice, and Klaus looked up into Dave’s loving, concerned eyes.

“What happened?” Klaus asked, disoriented.

“The doctors had to give you thirty stitches,” Dave explained. “And a whole lot of painkillers, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Are you ok?” Klaus asked. “That kid didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Dave shook his head. “No, Klaus, you….you saved my life. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Well,” Klaus smiled, “It looks like you saved mine, too.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Dave confessed. “Zero helped me get you here.”

The woman from the Temps Commission?! Klaus’ eyes widened. She was still hanging around?

He wasn’t sure what her angle was. Maybe it would upset her timey wimey plans, if he died in some random alley in Thailand, twenty-one years before he was supposed to be born.

“All that matters right now,” Dave said emotionally, “is that you’re safe.”

“Dave,” Klaus realized, “Have you been crying?”

“I was so worried!” Dave gasped. “If….if something had happened to you, I don’t know what I would’ve done, Klaus. You’re my world.”

“It’s ok,” Klaus soothed him. “I’m ok. Come here.”

Dave laid down in Klaus’ hospital bed with him, and rested his head on his chest. He pulled him close. They were far from home, and they would be back on a battlefield so soon. But, they were together, and for tonight, they were safe. That was all that mattered.

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Zero crept into the hospital room, a Colt revolver in her hand.

She stood over the bed, looking down at the two sleeping men. They looked so peaceful, wrapped in each others’ arms.

All you have to do, she told herself, is press the barrel to Mr. Katz’s temple, and fire at point-blank range.

Perhaps it was cowardly, she considered, to kill a man in his sleep. But, it was also merciful, right? Quick. Painless. Now that Klaus was safe, there was no reason not to take this opportunity, to complete her primary objective.

So, why did the gun shake in her hands?

You shot Hitler in 1945 and made it look like a suicide, she reminded herself. You shot Lennon in 1980 and framed Chapman for it. You even shot the president in 1865. So, why can’t you shoot one inconsequential twink, who’s probably going to die by the end of this decade anyway?

Klaus stirred in his sleep, and she hid the gun behind her back, fearful of being discovered.

“Hmm….Zero?” Klaus’ eyes blinked open.

“I was just….checking to make sure you were alright,” Zero stammered.

“Dave said you helped save me,” Klaus smiled innocently. “Thank you.”

He’s probably doped up on morphine, for his pain, Zero realized. That’s got to be the only reason, it doesn’t occur to him, that he ought to be suspicious of me right now.

“You’re welcome,” Zero muttered, and exited the room, asking herself why she’d failed again.

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Days later, she found herself back in Vietnam. Klaus had healed, and Bellamy had ordered him, and Dave, to return to active duty.

“I don’t even remember the name of this place,” she mumbled to herself, as she looked through her binoculars, spying on the platoon from a safe distance.

“We’re in Danang - part of Quang Nam Province,” a helpful voice supplied, and Zero spun around in shock, to find an elegantly dressed blonde woman at her side.

“Madame Handler!”

“Hello, Agent Zero,” the Handler smiled. “Long time no see.”

“Wh-why….”

“Why did I leave the Commission offices, and come out into the field?” the Handler guessed. “I know, it’s rare for me these days. But, it is nice to get some fresh air.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Zero fidgeted with the binoculars in her hands.

“I’m here,” the Handler explained, glaring, “because you were ordered, by me, to make a Correction. And you have failed to Correct the target, on no less than three separate occasions. Care to explain why that is?”

“I…”

I don’t know, Zero realized. I don’t know why this assignment is different, or what my problem is. It shouldn’t be a problem. What has that fool Klaus done to me?!

“It doesn’t matter,” the Handler decided, “because tonight is going to present us with a perfect opportunity.”

“How so, ma’am?” Zero wondered.

“Tonight, the US Army is going to commence Operation Allen Brook,” the Handler explained. “The Viet Cong have a fortress on Go Noi Island. Several Army platoons are going to try and invade it, and destroy it. According to historical documents, they actually win this battle.”

“Even though they lose the war?”

“Precisely, Agent Zero,” the Handler nodded. “They win, but their side suffers 917 casualties.” She pulled a small object from her purse.

Zero recognized the object as an RG-42 hand grenade - a Soviet-made bomb, used by the communist North Vietnamese.

“You are going to pull the pin tonight,” the Handler instructed, “and make sure Mr. Katz is one of those casualties. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Madame Handler.”

Zero told herself sternly, that she would not fail again.

#umbrella academy #my fic #umbrella academy spoilers #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klaus x dave #the handler #gerard way

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