#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24

[asnowfern]

The Writing's On The Wall - Chapter 1

Summary: She's a demon, he's a hunter. Their fates intertwined after a chance encounter. Can Nesta and Cassian overcome all odds to be together? Ancient Chinese wuxia AU setting/Inspired by the Legend of the White Snake.

A/N: Written for Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek 2023: Lover I am unbelievably nervous and excited for this fic. Wuxia/Xianxia shows were such a big part of my childhood, I really want to do it justice. That being said, I did change a lot of details as this is first and foremost, an ACOTAR fic. Please do not come after me saying that this is not traditional wuxia or wildly differs from the Legend of White Snake. It was intentional.

Now that's out of the way, enjoy! Read on AO3

Chapter One: 有缘 (it’s fate)

The trees swayed in the cool breeze, rustling its leaves. The lake glistened in the background as the fresh scent of rain permeated the air.  The night turned still as Nesta approached her targeted building. The temple stood tall against the serene backdrop of the trees and hills of Hangzhou province. The temple was large and opulent. 

Nesta adjusted her black scarf to cover her face and made her way to the temple swiftly, smoothly leaping from one rooftop to the next. True to her form, her movements were fluid and silent. 

Coming here was a risk. Tomas Mandray was a famed hunter and collector. Despite his identification as a monk, the man was ruthless to any demons and spirits, regardless of any actual malicious inclinations. Nesta's thoughts flashed back to Gwyn's pained face and attacked form. Sweet Gwyn who never hurt anyone, just like Clare never did. They may be the demons but it was without a shadow of doubt to Nesta that humans were the monsters. She felt the familiar cold rage burnt through her veins, hardening her resolve. 

Nesta had spent most of the day surveying the building. She knew the monk spent most of his day in a room at the corner of the left wing, likely his study. That would be her best bet for the orb. She crouched low on the rooftop and reached out her senses to identify any heat sources within the room. On the next beat, she was in the room.

The room was dizzying with qi relics. Nesta cursed inwardly and focused her senses once more, identifying the highest concentration of qi in the room. Hidden and tucked away behind a landscape portrait was her prize - the orb containing two hundred years of qi, stolen from the hermit of xihu , the West Lake. Nesta grabbed it and instantly felt the zap course through her arm. 

Shit.

She bolted but had barely made it to the courtyard when she heard the arrogant taunt that chilled her to the core, "You dare steal from me, demon?"

Nesta whirled around, her sword unsheathed in her hand as she faced Mandray. The monk gave her a cold appraising look, his sharp features, while blessed with an attractive aristocratic quality, sported a cruel smirk. 

"Return what you stole and I might just let you leave here alive." he crooned. 

Nesta nearly scoffed, "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Well, I didn’t say that you were leaving here unscathed," he said dismissively.

With that, he struck with his staff. Nesta parried the attack with her sword, gritting her teeth at the harsh impact of the blow. She crouched slightly to tilt her sword away and twisted her body to give the next swing of her sword a greater momentum. A move which was quickly blocked by the man. 

He gave her no time to consider her next attack and launched a series of quick strikes, leaving Nesta no option but to move into the defensive, blocking every jab and swing of his staff. Then she spotted an opening and took it, imbuing her blade with added qi, she lowered her stance and slashed the man's side.

Mandray hissed in pain and his face twisted into rage. He clutched his injured side and lept back a few steps. Nesta turned to flee the compound but was instantly immobilised with a blinding pain. She bit back a cry as she let her sword fall into the ground, leaning her weight into the weapon to avoid falling over. A low rumble of chants reached her ears as she took in the hexagonal golden light caging her in. 

Nesta heaved a breath and looked up to glare at her opponent, spitting out a taunt, “Couldn’t handle me by yourself?” 

“You knowingly snuck into a temple to steal from us. We have every right to defend ourselves.” Mandray shot back, his hand still clutched tightly against his injured side. “Give up, demon.” 

Nesta did not reply, her eyes swept around the golden barrier to search for any vulnerable point. Her jaw tightened as the chants grew louder and the pain intensified, setting her nerves alight. 

“Give up, demon.” he repeated, “There is no getting out of the structure. You are just prolonging your suffering. Return the relic and I will deliver you a swift and painless death.” 

Her mind zeroed in on his words. Structure. If the trap was a structure, it had to have foundations. She just had to find it and break it. Find it find it find it.

Her senses surged out, ignoring the man’s taunts and the chants. The edges of her mouth turned up into the barest of a smirk when she located it. She dug into her core and fortified her body, lighting her body in silver flames. With the next exhale, she shot a ball of flames into the ground to her right. She seized the opportunity the moment the barrier wavered, expanding the flames surrounding her outward, shattering the barrier. 

Mandray’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Throwing him one last look of derision, Nesta gathered her dwindling qi and transformed into her snake form, vanishing from the courtyard and into the night.

Nesta transformed back the moment she escaped deep into the neighbouring forest. She collapsed against the tree, yanking down the black scarf covering her face and breathed deeply. Before she fully realised it, darkness swallowed her consciousness.  

**

The memories spun mercilessly. 

“Nesta, Nesta! Look at what Chen gave me!” Clare cried out excitedly, shoving a delicate hair pin in Nesta’s face. 

“I think I might actually be falling in love,” Clare confessed softly, “Isn't it just silly to think? A demon and human could be in love?"

“He proposed, Nesta!” she swooned, her delicate face glowing in happiness, “Can you believe it? I’m getting married.” 

“Run, Nesta.” she begged, her voice weak from her injuries.  

Nesta tightened her grip around her childhood friend’s body, panting from the effort of running with the extra weight, “I’m not leaving you behind.” 

She fell to the ground when an arrow struck her in the back, dropping Clare on the ground. Nesta grit her teeth as she moved to cradle her friend once more. 

“Stop, Nesta.” Clare quietly commanded as a dusting of pink light surrounded her body, “It’s too late for me but it’s not for you. You have to run.” 

Nesta shook her head vigorously and said fiercely, “Don’t you dare give up on me.”

Clare smiled sadly as the dusting glowed brighter and her body faded, “You must live for the both of us, Nesta.”  

Nesta’s eyes snapped open, her chest heaving from the dream. Her eyes started to fall shut when the crackling of a fire caught her attention. She shot her body up and took in her surroundings. She was no longer in the forest but an abandoned hut. Her attention narrowed on the man tending to the fire. Her hand slowly moved towards her side towards her sword which was no longer attached to her waist. 

“Looking for this?” The male asked, waving a sheathed sword. Her sword, she realised belatedly. 

“Return it to me.” she demanded, her voice scratchy from disuse. 

The stranger gave her an infuriating smile, “So you can attack me? I don’t think so. Besides, you are in no shape to fight me.”  

Nesta narrowed her gaze, properly taking in the man before her. He was relatively young and sported a muscular physique. His ruggedly handsome face had a thin scar cutting across his right eyebrow. His dark complexion and shorter hair length revealed his western mountain origin. Reflections of the fire swayed lazily in his hazel eyes. 

Warrior. No, hunter. Her mind cautioned as she registered the numerous weapons on him.

“Relax, I mean you no harm.” he quickly assured her, cautiously handing over her sword, “Your qi levels are dangerously low and you are suffering from internal injuries. Don’t fight me.” 

“You know what I am then,” she surmised, her eyes darting around to locate the exit.

“A demon,” he agreed.

“So why haven’t you killed me?” she demanded, continuing when he raised a questioning brow, “You’re a hunter. Isn’t that what you do?” 

“I hunt malicious demons.” he answered easily as the infuriating smile returned. “You don’t seem very malicious to me.” 

Nesta threw him a scornful glare and sneered, “Spare me the act. You humans don’t care.” 

“I know,” he cut in, “that you’re in possession of a powerful orb. Probably stolen from Tomas Mandray, who had been bragging about it for weeks. Yet, you made no effort to absorb it, even in your injured state. In other words, you did not steal it from one of the most powerful hunters in jianghu for selfish gain. Like I said, not malicious.” 

The image of Clare fading into pink dust flashed behind her eyes. She gripped her sword tightly, “I applaud your efforts in not killing me then. I’ll be taking my leave.” 

She stood up, swaying slightly. The man reached forward to support her but stopped himself at her hard glare. 

“You’re in no position to travel.” he implored quietly, “There is a healing quarry lake about an hour away. We can leave at dawn. Just rest, please. I will not harm you.”  

"I'm fine." Nesta insisted, soldiering forward through the haze of weightlessness. She was halfway out of the building when it occurred to her that he seemed to be coming with.

She whipped around to ask, "Why are you following me?"

"You are in no shape to travel or defend yourself if anyone attacks. If you're not resting, I'm coming with you." he shot back, evidently annoyed by her stubbornness.

"Nobody is asking you to." she argued.

"You don't have to," he answered. Even in the moonlight, his eyes shone with honesty. 

Nesta bit back a retort. There was no getting rid of the guy. She replied with a resigned sigh, "I don't have time to rest all night. Now, where is that quarry?"

Nesta almost punched him for the shit eating grin he flashed her.

**

"My name is Cassian, by the way." he introduced himself a couple of minutes into their journey. 

He kept a step ahead of her. Close enough, she realised, to defend her when needed but stayed in her line of sight so that she knew that he would not sneak an attack on her. An effort that she appreciated.

"Nesta" she begrudgingly returned.

They walked in silence. Cassian would constantly check the stars and point them in a specific direction. Nesta felt her strength waning with every step, her skin misted with sweat from the effort of walking. 

The next time Cassian paused to navigate them, he passed her a canteen and said, "Let's take a short rest." 

Nesta took the canteen and drank from it, catching the sigh of relief before it could escape her throat. She let her eyes fall shut for a few moments as she drank the water. 

"Let's go" she snapped the moment she opened her eyes and slapped the canteen against his chest, stalking forward. If Cassian made a quip (which she was almost certain he did), it went unheard and ignored.

The sky was still dark when they reached the quarry. The water glistened against the backdrop of the rough surface of the quarry, reflecting the moon on its surface. Nesta knelt slightly to dip her hand under the water, sighing at the instant ease which flowed into her. She stood up, surprised to see Cassian making camp at the site. 

"What are you doing?" she blurted out.

"Settling in. There's still a while to go until sunrise." he answered easily, as if it explained everything. "I'm not leaving you defenceless in your meditative state."

"Why?" she asked, finally giving into curiousity, "I'm a demon. Probably the last creature, a human, much less a hunter, would protect."

"I'd do it for anyone," he replied quietly, his expression was serious but sincere, "I'll never hurt you Nesta. You're safe with me." 

Nesta found herself wanting to believe him. There was something in his eyes, something that made her think as she walked into the water that there was more to this, something that she was missing. She held onto the thought as the ground vanished beneath her, surmerging her fully. Nesta transformed, the process dragged in her injured state. Her limbs gradually combined and extended into its long length, curling as she settled at the bottom.

Nesta felt his gaze on her, its heat reaching her through the water. She ignored it, focusing her attention on absorbing the restorative energy of her surroundings. She meditated until the sun was high in the sky and her strength returned. 

She redirected the flow of qi in her body, gathering them from the far lengths of her long body back to her core, transforming back into her humanoid form. As the top of her head breaches the surface, she pooled the energy around her hands, ready at any given notice to throw out her silver flames.

Their eyes clashed, molten silver against burning hazel. Nesta held her breath. Would seeing her in her other form reveal the hunter as nothing more than the killer that he certainly is?

Maintaining the fiery energy around her hands, she drew upon enough qi to apply the glamour, ivory scales giving way to alabaster skin. A large warm hand covered her cheek at the point where scales met skin. 

"Don't," he said roughly, "You don't have to cover it up with me." 

Cassian's stare turned hungry, "It's beautiful."

Her brain screamed at her to remove his hand, to slap it away angrily, but Nesta could only stare into his eyes, transfixed with the flakes of gold dancing around his pupils and fixate on the warmth radiating from his hand to her face. Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt the heat spreading across her cheeks.

From a distance, a hawk screeched. The moment snapped like a taut rope and Nesta almost flinched from the impact, the blazing qi fizzled out pathetically in her hands. She stepped back immediately. 

"I've recovered enough to return," she informed curtly. Her expression softened slightly for a moment, "Thank you for helping me." 

Cassian smiled, slow and devastating. Nesta felt her heart stutter as he replied, "Come to the house at the southern tip of the West Lake. You will always have a friend there." 

Nesta nodded and took off, Clare's voice haunting her journey back. 

Isn't it just silly to think? A demon and human could be in love.

It was not silly. It was a tragedy waiting to happen. 

Next

Translation Notes: xihu/西湖 - The West Lake located in Hangzhou, China. qi/气 - Vital energy that flows through all bodies. jianghu/江湖 - The setting often used in wuxia stories. Think "The Valley" in Kungfu Panda.

A/N: I'm still relatively new to this and this would be my first multi-chapter fic that I don't have pre-written so do let me know if you would want to be added into a taglist!

#nessian #nesta x cassian #NestaWeek2023 #Legend of White Snake AU #xianxia AU #acotar fic #nessian fic #acotar

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Humanized ref sheet of my oc, Fire Flower Cookie! Uh, "humanized" in quotes, because he's a bird person, lol.

More info about him here:

I actually originally drew him with a purple shirt (flannel? Idk what it's called.) to maybe hint that his fate may lead him to living in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but I didn't like it, plus the green would make it look like leaves from the fire tree, Delonix regia he's based on.

I actually do have the first version of his backstory written here but I will give a general summary of his personality, who he is, and put his current backstory in a different post.

So about him!

He goes by he/they.

He can't remember his exact age, but he was around before the Dark Flour War, but was comatosed just before the war began, and awoke with faint memory of his past life 3-5 years before the Cookies of Darkness' attack on the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

He has this friendly and warm attitude towards others, often keeping his spirits high in an attempt to drown out the traumatic memories of what happened to him.

Very much inspired by Xie Lian from 'Heavens Official Blessings' lmao I love him so much.

Above all else, he just wants to find his family. But that seems a bit difficult, because after he was incapacitated, his family fled and hid away from the world, afraid of any hunter cookies wanting to find them.

He suffers from knee and back pains, and uses his staff as a way to help him walk (in a modern high school au,I imagine he has a walking stick to aid him.)

He was found by a few kind villagers from the hidden Red Tree Village, where he lived for 2 years. During which, he picked up alchemy and crafted his staff from a tree branch they gifted him. They also gave him this red scarf, as a reminder that he's always welcome to come back.

That's kind of it for now. I'll expand on his relationship with Dark Choco in a different post. But for now I have to study. Hey, did you know that raw fish is actually bad for cats and causes them vitamin B12 deficiency—

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #dark choco cookie #fire flower cookie #🌌🖌️ #🌌🏠

[hyde-s-journal]

The hunter's foil

(GIF provided by: @ekscelsior. Thanks!)

I'm back near Gilbert's door. I followed his advice and explored the sewers, found Oedon's tomb. Fought against a… monster there as well, but he wasn't a monster when this all began. When I entered the tomb, the first thing I felt was the smell of blood on the damp air. There he was: a man larger than me wearing a hat, a dirty weathered scarf, a bloodied cape, and a small bell hanged on his neck. He was hacking at a corpse with an axe, each attack followed by another absent-minded strike, it was obsessive. He immediately noticed me, despite having his eyes covered, and said something regarding beasts and fate, more to himself than me. And he was a human still, but not like the locals. His weapons, his movement, his attacks almost feral. He was a hunter too.

We clashed silver and blade, but I was struggling. I felt his axe cutting me, my back, my legs, anything he could hit; I could feel blood oozing out my sides, pouring in my throat. It felt like I was dead, just moving on whatever fear and instinct my body had left. I had to use the blood. I can barely feel my leg anymore, but I wasn't going down again.

At some point, however, something went wrong with him. Somewhere in the mix of blood, frenzy, and an animalistic instinct to survive, his body bent. He called the old blood like a mad man and howled. His clothes tore as his bones deformed and bent themselves into this new shape. I still see his mouth tearing open, so it could better scream in a pain known only to beasts. I froze. I had fought creatures similar to this, but I hadn't seen them transform before, not like this, not a hunter. He let go of his weapons, of anything else, and lunged at me. Whatever tatters of humanity he clung to when this began, there was only blood, pain, and this hunt left.

I fell, and as I did, the tiny music box a little girl gave me hit the ground, sputtering a few notes. As it sounded, he coiled in agonizing pain. I had a chance and I didn't hesitate. I had to live, I couldn't have done anything else, even if I wanted. And if there was, w. I couldn't do anything.

The brooch

After I made sure that he wouldn't move again, I looked around. I felt like it was falling apart, but I didn't want to stay near… that. On a body perched at the edge of a ceiling, I found a red jeweled brooch. He didn't kill her, he wouldn't have. Even a beast doesn't hurt its mate, this was caused by something else, it has to be so. I wasn't thinking properly, I was barely alive. I doubt that any of the blood on my veins is truly mine. Even if I was worried, I had to rest,

At that… place I found a second bath with messengers. They reached into the fog beneath them and brought, in perfect condition, like a crystallized memory, the clothes I saw being ripped. The bottom of my stomach sunk, I felt myself go pale. But I accepted them. Maybe the girl would see something familiar and believe everything was okay and that her dad was going after her mom, now. I… I can't tell a child what I saw, I could at least try to ease her worries.

But I couldn't do it. I got to her window, I gave her the brooch and as she cried, knowing what it meant, I was in silence! I couldn't utter a single word of comfort, anything. I was a strange man wearing her father's clothes, whose blood is in MY hands, that can't even say sorry to a child that lost EVERYTHING! That I took everything. I don't know how long I stayed there, but eventually I left.

I couldn't have done anything else, now and back at the bridge. I'm… not so sure if that necklace I found tangled in that creature's fur belonged to one of its victims. I won't dream. Whatever caused that, I won't let it be fall me, I can't. I have to continue. I won't- this won't happen to me.

#bloodborne oc #bloodborne #tomb of oedon #father gascoigne #bloodborne gilbert #soulslike #writing #journal #body horror #Not sure how “body horror” this is #but it's good to tag for people with filters

[miraculouscontent]

Hi, Adrien is handed things on a silver platter whereas Marinette has to work for them.

First thing’s first is just the concept of the love square. Chat Noir gets to interact with Ladybug no matter what because they’re heroes. Ladybug - who carries the weight and responsibility of heroism without getting benefited from it - is required to go to every battle due to her purification ability, and Chat Noir of course is going to show up because he loves both flirting with Ladybug and the freedom of being a superhero.

In addition, Adrien got his miraculous by helping Master Fu up (something that would be expected out of any semi-decent person; by the way, yes, I know the “””significance””” of the action, and it’s silly), whereas Marinette saved him from being hit by a car.

Adrien was allowed back in school with still no explanation from Gabriel (especially since he’s Hawk Moth) as to why he thought it was a good idea to send his son to a school where the very first akumatization had happened. It was Adrien’s goal for the episode alongside making friends, and Nino offered him friendship out of pity when Adrien sulked about how Chloe was the closest thing to a friend he had.

Chat crushes on Ladybug because she stood up to Hawk Moth in a speech dripping with confidence, caught what seemed like hundreds of akuma, and came up with a plan quick enough to save Mylene and Ivan from falling to their deaths from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Marinette (who Chat fell in love with one side of first, mind you, so already this is to his benefit), meanwhile, crushes on Adrien because the narrative gave her a falsehood about him never having any friends (i.e: no Chloe) and he gave her an umbrella while he was ten meters away from his actual ride (like with Fu, again, any decent person--).

Chat’s crush on Ladybug makes things harder for her because it causes him to throw tantrums mid-battle, get distracted and distract her because he’s busy flirting, all of which make her feel guilty for not returning his feelings. Marinette’s crush on Adrien makes things hard for her again because it causes her to embarrass herself while virtually everyone who knows teases/mocks her for it, their opinions of her even being dragged down due to the crush (see Alya with the Lila situation).

Chat is shipped with Ladybug by Parisians everywhere and Alya delighted in taking a picture of them kissing (that got posted on the Ladyblog without Ladybug’s consent). Likewise, the other LadyNoir kiss (that Ladybug had to do to free Chat from Dark Cupid’s control) was shown on live TV for all watching to see. Marinette’s kisses with Adrien, however, were either wiped from the timeline (in which Adrien got to keep a secret from her so he could date “””Ladybug”””) or used to humiliate her because Adrien was attempting a prank.

Ladybug realizes that Chat is in serious about her, not because he told her himself, but because he relayed it to Marinette who happened to be Ladybug. Marinette, on the other hand, has spent 3+ seasons attempting to confess her feelings to Adrien or make advances on him, all of which ended in some form of failure and some of which through no fault of her own.

Chloe shoved her in “Bubbler” (Adrien didn’t even check on her) and then Nathalie crushed the note she’d written on a scarf that Marinette put tons of time and effort into, leading to Adrien thinking it was from his dad.

“Copycat” was accidental and came on too strong, requiring its deletion.

She got distracted by Alya and forgot to write her name in “Dark Cupid,” her letter only further solidifying Chat’s crush on Ladybug.

She kept getting interrupted in “Gamer” after Alya chided her for using the event to get with Adrien (despite Alya doing the same thing for Marinette during the film in “Horrificator” while Mylene was MIA).

She wasn’t able to tell Adrien about Lila’s thievery in “Volpina” because the grimoire had to remain a secret.

The hat in “A Christmas Special” got given away within minutes and then not even brought back on-screen by Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien never even thanked Marinette personally for it).

Kagami came out of nowhere to take the fencing spot in “Riposte.”

Deciding not to make schemes only led to her embarrassment in “Gigantitan.”

She got made fun of and the notes all conveniently looked the same in “Backwarder,” leading to her mixing them up.

The macaron for Adrien (that Marinette would prepare every week) never got eaten by him and ended up causing the akuma after Chloe had emotionally manipulated Marinette into scheming with her.

Practicing on a statue (as per Tikki’s advice) in “The Puppeteer 2″ humiliated her when Adrien revealed himself as the statue.

She was embarrassed during the party in “Party Crasher” because she was pressured into dancing without her consent.

The timeline had to be reset in “Chat Blanc” and she had to lie to her friends that she hadn’t given Adrien the gift even though she’d actually succeeded, while the hat she made just for Adrien got written off as a gift from a random fan (which is an even worse fate than the scarf).

The confession in “Felix” was deleted by Felix himself before Adrien could see it.

And Adrien, meanwhile? Ohhhh boy, lemme tell you about Adrien.

He gets put into suggestive/close positions with Ladybug on many, many occasions, all for “free.”

He got a kiss from Ladybug in “Dark Cupid” that, remember, got photographed and put on live TV.

He got to goad the audience without consequence about he and Ladybug potentially being in a relationship eventually - gaining the knowledge that all of Paris was invested in LadyNoir to thoroughly stroke his ego - and then Ladybug had to act like they were a couple in “Prime Queen” to the point of holding Chat’s hand and saying that they were in love.

Likewise, “Glaciator” featured Ladybug having to act like a couple with him again, now to the point of kissing his cheek, and then Chat got a blush from her after he’d spent a good chunk of the akuma battle pouting that Ladybug didn’t come to the date he set up (that she hadn’t even known was a date because he purposefully withheld that information) despite her telling him that she’d have to see about it because she had plans.

He was reassured in “Anansi” on being “irreplaceable” after he made an unnecessary comment about being replaced by a turtle (Carapace).

He got to carry Ladybug around bridal style and also save her in “Sandboy” and “Reverser” respectively because she was rendered essentially useless without him, then got to save her again in “Frozer” after giving her the cold shoulder for rejecting his feelings.

He’s the one who got told by Marinette’s own parent not to apologize for how he feels in “Weredad” (note that Marinette herself never got this talk from Sabine, nor Tom, which very much could’ve prevented “Crocoduel”).

He got a cheek kiss from Ladybug in “Desperada” after getting to undo the very-much-against-the-rules identity reveal he made to her via Second Chance.

He got to look good in “Gamer 2.0″ when Ladybug was seeking advice from him despite the fact that her and Chat’s situations hero-wise are absolutely, completely, 100% different and he didn’t even try to take that into account.

He got Ladybug resting her head on his shoulder because of what she saw in a deleted time in which he - unbeknownst to her - lied by omission.

A fake Ladybug tried to kiss him on two separate occasions, “The Puppeteer 2″ and “Ladybug,” much to his delight (something to note is that the fake Adrien who went after Ladybug in both “Chameleon” and “Felix” tried to force themselves on her).

He got the “jealousy” moment from Ladybug in “Heart Hunter” and then a hug from Aquabug in “Miracle Queen.”

He received no repercussions for taking Ladybug out on a date (that she wasn’t aware was going to be a date) in “Gang of Secrets,” at best having to apologize for her behavior to the people around them.

He got reassured that Ladybug “couldn’t do this without him” in “Guiltrip,” even to the point of being told that she “probably doesn’t tell him enough.”

He got told by Ladybug that she would never abandon him in “Hack-San” because he was guilting her sulking about how his not knowing her identity would mean that he’d never see her again if she left him somehow.

And before you think this only extends to the romantic aspects of love square, let me tell you now that it definitely doesn’t.

Marinette entered the bowler hat competition and had to defend her own work to the judge.

She ran for class representative and had to earn the trust and faith of her class in “Darkblade” when put up against Chloe’s bribery.

She did whatever she could to make sure Juleka got her picture taken in “Reflekta.”

She had to actually craft a pair of glasses suitable for Jagged Stone in “Pixelator” and then make a gorgeous album cover for him in “Guitar Villain.” (note that this partially led to “Troublemaker” where she was just happily wanting to advertise her parents’ business, and the writers multiplied her Adrien pictures for the sake humiliating her when it was caught on live TV)

She had to work to get ungrounded by improving her attendance in “Simon Says,” because she had been busy being a hero.

She worked to try and get Nathaniel and Marc to get together on a project, knowing it would be good for both of them.

She set up an entire celebration for her bully to try and make said bully feel good about herself in “Malediktator.”

She did Kitty Section’s designs and costumes in “Silencer” and then had to go protect them from being stolen, along with her friends’ music.

She had to wear multiple miraculouses in “Kwamibuster” in order to go against Kwamibuster and get back both the ladybug earrings and the cat ring.

“Gamer 2.0.” Just... “Gamer 2.0.″

She made a whole complex lockbox to protect the Miracle Box in “Gang of Secrets.”

She worked to reach out to Zoe in “Sole Crusher” even after Zoe trashed her in front of the school, going as far as to try and comfort Zoe’s akumatized form.

She had to stand up for the movie to be fixed in “Queen Banana” because no one else would.

She has to work each and every akuma battle as Ladybug, figuring out Lucky Charms that can range from simple to complicated, while simultaneously dealing with a partner who relies heavily on her plans and will occasionally make things harder by either throwing tantrums mid-battle or distracting her.

And meanwhile...

Chat Noir got to throw the blame onto Ladybug for Theo’s akumatization in “Copycat.”

Marinette covered for him in “The Collector” when he was the one who recklessly lost the grimoire by not being careful with it.

He got handed Fu’s identity in “Syren” after whining to Ladybug, throwing blame on her and trying to bribe Plagg so they’d tell him, threatening to quit while Paris was underwater, and all of this while Marinette herself only got to meet Fu because she had the grimoire on her.

He was given the moral high ground in “Malediktator” despite not having to actually care about Chloe enough to call/check on her.

He got to sit back in “Chameleon” and not concern himself with judgment or comment on the situation with Lila, even going into “Ladybug” where he continues to inform no one about Lila (including Marinette, who briefly believed that Lila came to her senses and was willing to make amends) after Lila got Marinette expelled, despite the complete lack of risk on his part considering who his father is and how harshly Lila would be dragged through the mud if she dared to trash his reputation.

He clumsily trips in “Captain Hardrock” in a fashion that reveals an instrument he happens to play, leading to him getting invited to join Kitty Section within seconds of being on the Liberty. (so when Adrien is clumsy, it’s to his benefit, and when Marinette is clumsy, it’s to her detriment)

He never got called out for distracting Ladybug and digging for details that could relate to her identity in “Kwamibuster” (which, again, forced Marinette to do all the work to fix things).

He got a party thrown for him in “Party Crasher” by Nino, and also guys that Adrien had never put forth effort into interacting with or befriending (Marinette had also been through more with all of them sans Nino).

He got to force Ladybug’s favorite traits of his out of her in “Truth” because she was under the influence of Truth’s powers.

He got off the hook for sacrificing himself in “Lies” by flirting about Ladybug’s “irresistible angry little pout,” and also never got repercussions for flirting with another girl while dating Kagami.

He never had to face consequences for smashing a chimney in “Sentibubbler,” even as he was dismissing the gesture because he knew Miraculous Ladybug would fix it.

He didn’t have to apologize for his behavior in “Hack-San,” whereas Ladybug "had to” for telling someone else her identity (the details of why - i.e: that she was having a mental breakdown and needed a release from it - being completely left out) and not telling him that she was leaving (when she literally hadn’t had time to tell him anything; do note as well that Adrien didn’t have to do the same in either “Backwarder” or “Startrain”).

He received no consequences and was in fact rewarded for allowing the akuma in “Wishmaker” to hit him, a choice that Viperion has to live with because it caused him to see both Ladybug and Chat’s identities (meaning now Luka - someone who, like the guys in “Party Crasher” - Adrien has done virtually nothing for - can support Adrien since he knows).

And I could go on, I really could, but my point is that Adrien is given all of the sympathy and sad points while Marinette basically never is. Just like how he was born swimming in money, fame, and adoring fans, the show hands out praises and all the things he’s ever wanted because he’s sad.

He doesn’t have to try. He can whine and complain and vent to Plagg about how “replaceable” he is because the show will mollycoddle him to the moon and back. They’ll put his crush on Ladybug’s shoulders to make her feel guilty while Marinette is over here having to bust her butt just for a chance at Adrien recognizing any semblance of her feelings, and he goes on being blissfully ignorant of them so he doesn’t have to suffer like Ladybug does.

In addition, Marinette has to either be “““making mistakes”““ or embarrassing herself in order to get screen time because the burden of lessons fails upon her, whereas Adrien can be name-dropped without even doing anything.

It’s not just the love square that’s unbalanced, it’s everything between these two. Ladybug is scolded and punished for the slightest act of selfishness while Adrien is encouraged and rewarded for being selfish and demanding things. Marinette has to work to be noticed (and sometimes won’t even get that much) while all Adrien has to do is put on his best sad face and the show will bend over backwards to either give him exactly what he wants or make him the sympathetic one through the narrative.

Even if Adrien had known about Marinette’s crush at the time that Ladybug knew about Chat’s, it wouldn’t matter, because the tipped scales in how they’re treated would still make it so Marinette is the one at fault for “dumping her feelings onto Adrien” while Ladybug is still forced to interact with Chat even if his advances make her uncomfortable.

#((It's a good day to choose violence.)) #category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: love square #((I probably should've done this in video format.))

[briefconnoisseurwolf]

Clockwork Cities: Entry #1

Taglist: @vylequinne @notwritinganyflufftoday @ashen-crest @a-berry-existential-crisis @howdywrites  @christine-thinks @onthefrits

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

Like my writing? Consider buying me a coffee-- I’m TheRamWrites on ko-fi, as well!

CW/TW: Blood

Our two protagonists meet...

######################################

Ilyich stumbled through the snow-dusted forest of the Northern Mountains with blood seeping between his fingers as he clutched his wound. It leaked profusely, the edges burning as it refused to heal shut regardless of any spells he tried. He would stop, try yet another spell, groan as his skin hissed as if touched by silver, and then continue forward. The wind picked up as he dragged himself through the forest. Snow became a white wall around him.

His foot caught on a root or a rock and his face met the ground with the crunching of snow and the startled grunt of a deer farther in the woods. He groaned and pushed himself onto his back as a shadow fell across him.

A man stood over him, a bow in hand. He had the wild brown-gray-white-black curls to match his lithe wolf-like build and careful step. The man was tall, though anyone would have looked tall from where Ilyich lay, and had brown skin and a long nose. He was garbed in the red and gray scarves and over coats and cloaks of deerskin and furs that were common among the mountain villages. A hunter, most likely, or possibly an herbalist.

Ilyich swallowed hard, ran his tongue over his lower lip. A sickly sweet taste sat at the corner of his mouth. “Please don’t shoot me."

“You did scare away my dinner, but I doubt you would make a good replacement.” The man grinned as he lowered his bow, though it had never been drawn to begin with. “Name’s Erastus Cowlin. You look like you could use some help.” He knelt, leaning closer, looking into Ilyich’s eyes while Erastus looked into his. Erastus’s eyes were like boulder opals, deep brown and reddish amber with flares of sapphire blue. The blue flickered and sparked, more like flames than the cracked insides of a gem, and there were traces of red, green, and yellow.

“You’re a magician,” Ilyich murmured.

“Trained.” Erastus leaned back, setting his bow aside and resting an arm across his knee. “And so are you. Or… Perhaps not. I have never seen eyes like yours before.”

“A magician of some kind. Untrained,” Ilyich told him and wondered if the emblem of the Clockwork Cities stitched into the breast of his coat meant anything to Erastus. He didn’t give it a second glance, and it was unlikely it meant anything to anyone so far north. “But that has nothing to do with my eyes or my trade.”

“So I’m gathering.” His eyes flicked to Ilyich’s coat and its various accessories, and then further down to where his trembling hand pressed against the persistent wound. “So what has eyes like you then?”

“Vampirism trumps magic in eye presentation.”

“Mm. You would just tell me that you are a vampire?” The man raised an eyebrow.

Ilyich rocked his head to the side and gave as much of a shrug-like gesture as he could. “Vampirism. Not vampire. I’m an almost-vampire. I haven’t died yet.”

“A sealed fate?”

“I have hopes of changing it.” He grimaced and pressed his fingers into his skin. More blood drooled into the snow. “Or. I did.”

Erastus stared at him a while before unlooping one of the scarves from around his neck. “You haven’t told me your name,” he said as he wrapped Ilyich’s wound.

“Ilyich,” he told him through gritted teeth and, after a hazy thought, added, “Harrow.”

“Ilyich Harrow? Interesting name.” Erastus finished tying the scarf and offered his arm to Ilyich. “Come with me. I can do more for you at my shop. The village isn’t far.”

“Your shop?”

“I’m an apothecary.” Erastus pulled Ilyich to his feet as he took his arm and looped an arm around his waist.

“A healer?”

“Just an apothecary. My magic shouldn’t touch other people. Come on, now. One foot in front of the other. Before the forest is dark.”

#clockwork cities #novel excerpt #wip #writeblr #adventure #fantasy #romance #lgbtq #werewolves #vampires #my writing #writing

[thebladeblaster]

SMT 4 Corrupted (Halloween fic)

Summary: A rewrite of SMT4 Apocalypse where the Venom symbiote’s appearance causes the original timeline to further distort.

Please give me some of your opinions!!!

Chapter 1 Venomized (1st draft)

Flynn sat down feeling a bit exhausted. His eyes looked over the extravagant chalice in his hands nearly filled to the brim with light. He is to become the hope of the people of Tokyo. Soon, the god Krishna will be released which will drastically shift the fate of Flynn however another disturbance will soon cause that fate to shift again.

Flynn had black hair tied up into a ponytail by a white band. He had distinctive green eyes that had made him stand out in both his home Mikado and his current residence in Tokyo. white robes lined with gold with a blue and white coat over it. He had white pants and a brown belt with a sword hung on it. He had white boots with various straps. He had white knee pads over his pants and a white scarf on his neck worn like a bandanna. On his right arm was a metal gauntlet with a red strap around the wrist.

You could see the tiredness in his eyes. He was brimming with sweat from all the quests he had done to fill the chalice. It felt like one thing after the other he has hardly had any time to rest. Especially with Heaven’s forces hovering around the area near the reactor. He has a bad feeling they were planning something and he has to fill the chalice fast before something bad happens. Him and Isabeau took up some urgent quests dealing with demon attacks. They were split up for now since it was actually in many parts of Tokyo. He should be finished up now after beating the last horde. Good thing for him, his last one was in Shinjuku. Now, he can finally rest in the rooms at cafe Florida. Isabeau and him had been staying there ever since he came back from the White’s world.

He got himself up trying to mask his exhaustion. He doesn’t need demons to see an opening to gang up on him. He headed over to the exit for the underground district of Shinjuku. Most of the demons backed away at his presence probably due to seeing him defeat the hordes. However, that was most demons there was one exception.

He hastily jumped out of the way as some black tendrils stabbed where he was standing. He looked up at the demon, it was jet-black with completely white eyes. It was humanoid and very muscular. The demon looked unfamiliar to him...Where had it come from?

“Scanning…”, his AI companion Burroughs said from his gauntlet.

Flynn hastily touched the button screen of his gauntlet to summon his demons: Demonee Ho, Izanami, and Michael.

Demonee Ho jumped onto his shoulder using it as a perch to use its signature skill Desperate Hit. Energy like bullets shot out of its gun keeping the hulking demon at bay so Burroughs could finish analyzing the demon. He had to find out what the demon’s weakness is so he had Izanami use Thunder Gods on the demon. The demon seemed to be hurt by the lightning, but it persevered charging at Flynn. It seemed rather sturdy. Michael flew in front of him as Flynn had him use Inferno of God. The demon wailed in pain which made Michael smirk. Flynn now knew this was the demon’s weakness judging by the reaction. Flynn snapped his fingers causing a massive inferno to ignite which enveloped the demon. Flynn recalled his demons as he saw the other demons shrinking back in fear. The fire blast he shot created an explosion which lightly shook the area. A cloud of smoke filled Flynn’s gaze when it dissipated he raised his eyebrow as he saw a human man in place of the demon.

He was blonde, very muscular and naked for some reason. He has definitely seen some strange things in Tokyo. Was the demon taking the appearance of a man to lower his guard? Flynn cautiously poked the man with his sword.

“Master, th-zzzz”, Burroughs said, before suddenly there was static on his gauntlet.

His attention instantly turned to his gauntlet. It’s screen had gone black like when it was turned off puzzling Flynn. He tried to turn his gauntlet back on yet got no reaction. So, he tried again and again till he got annoyed. But, as soon as the annoyance wore off he was concerned about his AI companion. Seeing the demon star coming near the unconscious man drooling, Flynn decided to bring the man to the underground district so he wasn’t eaten alive. As he did he looked around for the mysterious demon wondering where it went off to. Perhaps it had been destroyed? That didn’t explain the naked man though. People gave him funny looks as he walked back in with the man. He didn’t let this bother him though. He looked for somewhere comfortable to set him down at.

He ended up going into the hunter association so he didn’t carry him through hordes of hungry demons. Similarly he got strange as some dumbfounding looks as he carried the man.

“Just how strong is that kid?”, a hunter whispered, sweat dropping.

“Maybe the naked weirdo tried to make a move on Tokyo’s Liberator?”? another hunter said.

The other hunters scooted over as he placed the man down. He put his hands over him which glowed with pink energy. The man’s wounds from the battle were quickly healed as if they were never there causing many hunters to gape.

“This guy just keeps getting crazier. You know I heard he could fly like a freaking superhero and I’m starting to believe it.”, a hunter said.

“I think I have some extra clothes...though I don’t think they could fit him…”, Flynn mumbled, clearly in his own world not listening to the comments aimed at him.

“Perhaps I could help out with that.”, the bartender volunteered.

“Ah, thank you.”, Flynn said, bowing politely.

“Speaking of a new wardrobe, when did you change your outfit Mr. Tokyo Liberator?”, the bartender asked, confusing Flynn before he looked down at his samurai garb to see it was now pitch black with only a few bits of white remaining on it.

“Huh?!”, Flynn questioned, raising up his sleeve to look at it.

Why did his clothes change? When did his clothes change?

“That’s weird I could swear it was blue a second ago…”, Flynn said, sounding a bit weirded out.

The two looked over as the man seemed to rouse. He had a spooked expression on his face which worsened as he looked over to Flynn. He jumped backing away from him as he walked towards him.

“Are you alright sir? Do you know anything about that weird demon that disappeared suddenly?”, Flynn asked.

The man shivered and shuttered.

“Someone should give this dude a blanket.”, a hunter said.

“G-get away from me! I’m done with you! Y-you got the host you wanted!”, the man said fearfully, greatly confusing everyone who heard it.

“Host? What are you talking about?”, Flynn inquired, trying to reach out only for the man to bolt out of the association.

“It’s your problem now!”, the man yelled.

Flynn scrambled up to catch the man and inquire further. However, when he exited the association he didn’t see the man anywhere. He checked all the entrances and it seemed like he was gone.

“Host? It? This is all so strange?”, Flynn murmured, completely perplexed.

“I’ll worry about it later. It doesn’t seem I can find the man and I still have to find out what happened to Burroughs.”, Flynn thought.

He wasn’t exactly sure who to ask so he went back to Cafe Florida to ask Fujiwara. He’s sure to know someone he can ask. He walked over to the little corner the cafe was tucked away in and went through the door. He explained the situation to Fujiwara and Skins.

“I see...it seems like your Demonica is broken. I’m sure I can find someone to fix it up. This is a rather inconvenient time for this to happen with Lucifer and Merkabah around. I’ll try to get it back to you as fast as possible. Till then you’ll have to take it easy without your demons.”, Fujiwara said.

“I can’t do that!”, Flynn protested.

“Simmer down there. We’re not asking you to retire or anything. You just need to take on some easier requests at least until your Demonica is fixed up. It should be in less than a week.”, Skins replied.

“Still…”, Flynn grumbled stubbornly, making the two sweat drop.

“Why are the young so reckless?”, Fujiwara sighed.

“Hehe. Everyday he reminds me more of the man who saved Tokyo.”, Skins chuckled as Flynn walked away.

“Yeah...their resemblance is uncanny. He’s just as stubborn as he was. Never able to settle when there was still good to be done. ”, Fujiwara replied.

Flynn went to the back of the cafe where the room he was staying in was at. He was exhausted both physically and mentally especially with the weird incident earlier. He still doesn’t know what was up with that guy or where the demon went. Or why Burroughs was damaged and why his samurai uniform is now black. He laid down on his bed tiredly quickly putting on something more comfortable for sleeping. He wore a simple blue shirt and black shorts. His hair tie was undone allowing his hair to lay freely on his shoulders. As soon as he hit the pillow he was out like a light.

Strangely the black uniform seemed to shift after Flynn drifted into unconsciousness.

Flynn started to dream, finding himself in the cloudy scape where he had met with the goddess of Tokyo before. The goddess was in the unassuming form of a little girl with black hair and a long white dress.

“Flynn!”, the goddess called out anxiously, sounding worried.

In reality the uniform was back to being blue as if the black on it had been washed away. A black mass slithered its way towards the unconscious Flynn.

“Is there something wrong, goddess?”, Flynn asked.

The gooey mass made its way up the bed to where Flynn was currently resting. The mass shifted arching over his prone form casting a shadow over him.

“There’s another threat to Tokyo! A big threat has just appeared! Flynn you have to wake up!”, the goddess cried out urgently confusing the messiah.

“Something other than Lucifer and Merkabah?”, Flynn questioned in a confused tone.

The being edged closer to the unconscious samurai shifting itself to be narrower as if to fit into something. Small tendrils came out of it forcing his mouth open.

“Yes! You have to hurry Flynn!”, the goddess said.

The being it’s way slithered into his mouth.

Flynn suddenly felt on guard in his dream like something was very wrong. He didn’t know exactly how to wake up. Usually the weird dream vision would end on its own and he would wake up.

The being continued forward slithering down his throat forcing his unconscious to swallow as to not choke.

Flynn stiffed as the feeling of wrongness became much greater. Something felt off and unnatural.

“Flynn...it’s inside you.”, the goddess said, horrifying and further confusing him.

“Inside me?”, Flynn questioned, stumbling as the area around them suddenly shook.

He looked over to see the towering form of Masakado in his full glory rather than being just a floating head. Opposing the castle-like god was a large less human version of the black demon from before. It’s form seemed less human and almost alien in proportions. It battled Masakado, the goddess called out for Flynn as he rushed into the battle hoping to help Masakado. He gasped in shock seeing Masakado on the back foot from the demon and actually being defeated. The demon before was not that strong.

“Flynn! Do not let it take over your soul!”, Masakado warned eerily as he slowly fell.

Flynn reached for his sword only to realize it was missing. Actually all his equipment was missing. He was in his sleepwear. So, he tried to conjure another Trisagion to defeat the demon once again, but nothing happened much to his shock. He tried again and his magic still wasn’t working. The demon grabbed Flynn with its tendrils and he desperately tried to get out of its grip.

“From now on Godslayer you're under new management.”, the demon said with a sinister grin.

Flynn looked at the demon with a defiant look in face of his situation.

“I won’t submit to you! I’ll stop you!”, Flynn declared.

“We’ll see about that. Once you feel the power I’ll give you’ll never want to go back.”, the demon said before devouring him whole.

In reality Flynn bolted awake to see he was no longer in his room. He was outside for some reason sword in hand fighting demons without his gauntlet. He had on the black samurai uniform instead of his sleepwear and his hair was tied back up by something.

“How did I get here?”, Flynn questioned, he noticed the demons shrinking away from him.

For some strange reason he felt a power pulsing through him which felt...really good. His worries, confusions, and anxieties seemed to clear away as the power pulsed through him like a beating heart. The black uniform clung onto him like a second layer of skin and it felt alive...like he could feel a pulse within it strangely enough. It felt a little too good. He feels like he should be more worried about this, but such thoughts were quickly plucked from his mind.

“What’s this...I feel…?”, Flynn murmurs as he looks over the black samurai uniform.

He felt a pump of adrenaline through his system like he had to go fight something. He needed to fight, conquer, feed...The feeling of the power pulsing inside him felt addicting like a drug. Yes...with this power he could still fight at full capacity without his gauntlet! He could crush Lucifer and Merkabah easily!

“Wow...this feels good!”, Flynn said, a uncharacteristically sinister smirk formed on his face.

The demons looked more nervous looking at Flynn like a rabbit looks at a wolf. He raised his sword to the still shivering demons.

Somewhere else in some other plane of existence a man in all orange in a wheelchair watched this.

“I guess you could call me this universe’s watcher. Ah, it seems the wheels of fate have shifted once more. Now, will Tokyo’s Liberator overcome this demon’s corruption or will he submit to it and fall from grace? Only time will tell.”, the man named Stephen said.

To be continued...

#shin megami tensei #smt4 #smt iv #smt4 apocalypse #spideman #venom symbiote #halloween #smt flynn #skins #fujiwara #Stephen smt #goddess of Tokyo #masakado #my crappy writing

[nelllraiser]

severance | bea, luce, nell, & nisa (ft. rosemary and helena)

LOCATION: the council chambers of the witches of the silver flame. PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze, @divineluce, @nelllraiser, and @nisavurcl. SUMMARY: the vural sisters answer for their crimes. 

"And I will go if you ask me to. I will stay if you dare. And if I go I'm goin' on fire. Let my anger take me there"

When Clementine had come running to the coven council and Nisa about the strangeness of the Vural daughters, the matriarch had been ready to dismiss whatever was happening as one of her youngest daughter’s typical shenanigans. Certainly she wasn’t pleased, but it was hardly worth bridging to the council. But the longer Clementine had talked, the more dubious things became, and the harder the rock in Nisa’s stomach had grown. It was too elaborate of a story to be made up, and she herself knew of the animosity that August and Penelope had shared for the bulk of their life. How could Bea and Luce have gotten caught up in such things, though? They were meant to be more responsible than this. How had everything gotten so tangled when she’d only been gone for a couple of months? She waited with the other council members for her daughters to appear in the chambers. The only choice they’d had was to summon the three witches in for examination, to question them just as they would have done to any other coven member. For a long moment, Nisa had played with the concept of warning her daughters. She’d always been one to believe in facing the consequences of one’s actions, but this was a step up from that in severity. She hadn’t reached a decision, and her lack of decision had found her running out of time to warn them, thus the Vural daughters went unaware of why they were being brought forth to the council. As the three of them filed in, she cleared her throat, straightening her back in her chair to become the formidable council member she was known to be. “Beatrice Vural, Lucinda Vural, and Penelope Vural— you’ve been summoned by the Witches of the Silver Flame to answer for accused crimes that fall outside of this coven’s parameters.”

Rosemary clasped her hands tightly around the wooden arms of her chair, her eyes dark and unreadable as she stared at the girls who stood before the council. The Vural girls. She should have known that it would be them, but she’d doted on them as children. She could still remember the three of them being tutored with the other young children of the coven-- bright, studious Beatrice, quiet, moody Lucinda, and excitable, energetic Penelope. With no children of her own, she’d viewed all the young spellcasters of the coven as extensions of her own family. But, the allegations Clementine had approached the council with, talks of murder, of dark magic and necromancy? The women who stood before her were not those same children. They had gone down an unforgivable path, done unspeakable things to one of their own. A member of their coven. “You stand before this council facing the following charges: the practice of dark magic, the practice of necromancy and human resurrection, and the murder of another member of this coven, August Thompson.” Rosemary spoke, doing her best to keep her voice level and calm. Just as she remembered the Vural sisters as children, so too could she remember young August, always trying so hard to prove himself. How could they do this? How could these girls do… any of it?

When Clementine had come forward with her claims, Helena had been beyond thrilled. The Vurals had been good enough members of the Coven and she had no issues with them, but this gave her the opportunity to gain more standing on the Council. Everyone would be looking at Nisa now and if Helena was lucky, the woman would step down with grace after this scandal. Then there was room for someone new and more aligned with Helena’s thoughts to join the council. Her chin tilted upward, face stern as she looked over the woman. “We have witness testimony and evidence against you. Telling us the truth will make things much easier for you.” Helena hoped they would be too much like their mother to step down from a challenge of their pride. “How do you plead?”

Nell hadn’t seen her mother since she’d returned from Turkey, not knowing how to explain away the scars that encompassed her entire arms, nor the one that went a third of a way across her neck. Especially in conjunction with the matching one Luce had, and the one that spanned Bea’s entire neck. But it seemed that someone had done the explaining for them. Standing in front of the council on trial for their actions was not how she’d expected it to go, though. As she took in the council, a sinking stone formed swiftly in her gut, weighing her down in a way that made her push her shoulders back forcefully, as if trying to prove that she wouldn’t be defeated by it, or the witches sitting before her and her sisters. They wanted a plea, and there was really only one way this could go. The council already had the information, and there was no use in fighting it. In addition, the truth spell placed on the chambers wouldn’t permit any of them to lie. At this point, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not they’d be found out, but what their punishment would be. Maybe she could draw a good amount of the attention. Take the blame like she always had growing up. Nisa’s favorite target. So Nell stepped forward, apart from her sisters to say. “I plead guilty.”

On some level, Luce had known that their actions would come back to bite them. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, had instead taken to hiding her fears with violence and anger and lashing out with magic. Of course, that was the reason for their whole situation wasn’t it? When she’d received the summons from the coven, there had been some fear, some anxiety. But, for the most part, she’d resigned herself to her fate. Luce’s fingers brushed against the choker around her throat, covering her scar. It had served as a reminder of what she’d done. She cast dark magic, practiced necromancy, committed murder, slain another member of their coven. Even without the magic that seeped into the very walls of the council chambers, she would readily admit it to them. When Nell took a step towards the council, Luce’s eyes widened. What was she doing? Why was she doing that? Casting a glance over at Bea, Luce clenched her jaw before taking a step forward as well. “I plead guilty.”

There had been a part of Beatrice that had thought their mother might have tried harder to protect them from the Council’s wrath. She was disappointed to see that her mother only had loyalty to her daughters in small measures. She had worn an outfit her mother had once picked for her, crisp white lines of a suit that screamed look at me. Hiding her scar was the scarf Felix had gifted her. Anger simmered under her skin as she looked at each of the Council members. She stepped forward, pulling the scarf from her neck and linking hands with her sisters. “I plead guilty, but I feel no guilt for what I have done.” She pressed her lips, trying to force herself from snarling at the Council. “Were you told the whole story or just the parts that painted us badly?” She asked, rage making her voice even more ragged than what it usually was.

The scar on her daughters’ necks and arms were ugly, and not just for cosmetic reasons. Nisa’s lips tightened as the three of her daughters said the most disappointing words they’d said in their entire lives, but it was hard to weigh the council responsibilities on her shoulders against the heart of a mother, even one that was as demanding as herself. The scars were obvious marks of magic gone wrong to the trained eye, and this was magic that had gone very wrong. Her daughters could have died. One of them had died. And she’d been in Turkey. She wished she could have protected them from all this, but now it was too late. They’d made their choices, and now they’d have to deal with the consequences. She wasn’t Nisa Vural, mother of three in these moments. She was Councilwoman Nisa of the Witches of the Silver Flame. And exceptions couldn’t be made, especially for her family. “I’m sure we’ve yet to hear the whole story. We’re eager to hear the rest, and are waiting. As it stands, though— there are still crimes to be atoned for.

As Nisa began to talk, Bea’s eyes went to her mother’s. They were mirrors of each other. Bea was the spitting image of her mother and many had thought she would do great things just like the matriarch. She glared at the woman now, she didn’t want to be like her mother. Bea wouldn’t pick the coven over her family. “August paid a man to kill Nell. He was going to butcher her because of petty jealousy. Every single one of you knows how he felt about her.” Her lips pressed together as she took a moment to shove her emotions down,“I got between her and the Hunter that coward brought and I had my head cut off. I died because of the actions of August Thompson. So personally I don’t see it as murder, but rather retribution. Something we were owed.”

Rosemary flinched in her seat at Beatrice’s blunt explanation of what had occurred. Clementine had already told Nisa about what she’d overheard, but still. Little August Thompson had done such a thing? He had paid someone to take Penelope’s life? How could he have done that? She’d always known there had been friction between the two of them, but Rosemary had dismissed it as little more than the rivalry that came with youth. She looked over at Nisa, her heart breaking for the woman. Nisa was a member of the council and her daughters had flagrantly disregarded the rules and measures of the coven. They’d done unspeakable, dark magic. Shifting uncomfortably, the woman shook her head, “We are aware of the general circumstances that occured. The murder of August Thompson… that is not our primary concern.” She said, though the words hurt to say. A member of their coven, dead. Though, she supposed, there was no other way things could have gone. Beatrice, Penelope, or August, one of them would be dead regardless. “The matter of necromancy is what troubles me the most. You three know that necromancy is prohibited by the tenants of our coven and yet, you thought to exert power over forces beyond your control.” Her eyes flickered to Penelope’s arms and she swallowed, “Clearly, you are aware of the consequences of this. However, the blatant disregard for our sacred laws cannot go overlooked.”

Everything felt as if it were slipping away from Nell. The coven had always been a safe haven for her, a place to belong when the rest of the world shied or ran away from here. Part of her wanted to clutch it to her chest, and hold it tight, as if it were her last security blanket left in the world after everything had happened. But they were also wrong. Her mother’s detached words weren’t a surprise. Nisa had always been big on punishment, especially when it came to the coven and her youngest daughter. Now it seemed she was finally extending it to Luce and Bea as well. But would she have been harsher if it were just Nell on trial? It was something the young witch couldn’t help but wonder. “If we’re talking about blatant disregard for sacred laws, is it not the most sacred of laws that we look after one another, that we protect our sisters in both magic and blood? Bea was doing just that, and Luce and I did it for her in return by bringing her back from death. Are we really going to be punished for going to the ends of the Earth for another witch and our family? Weren’t you the ones who taught us to do that?”

Helena could laugh, they were making it easy for her to spin all of this. She tutted at Penelope,“You went behind the Coven’s back to perform magic that goes against the Coven’s rules. If you had come to us, perhaps this would be different.” She glanced over to Nisa with a faux pitying look,“After all your mother did to drag her family name from the dirt where her mother left it, you go and betray her and our trust. It seems like this type of behavior runs in the family.” Idly, she flipped a few pages in her notes. “Now, you say that August did this because of ‘petty jealousy’. However, we have multiple witnesses who claim to have seen August in pain at Beltane and Penelope and Lucinda Vural dragged him away from the scene. Doesn’t seem a little odd to anyone else?”

As both of her sisters argued against the council, Luce’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Rosemary had a point-- they’d gone against the laws of the coven and while she didn’t just want to lie down and just accept what was happening, there wasn’t any way to get around what they’d done. But, Helena’s words had her frowning, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop herself. “‘If we’d come to you?’ You’re seriously trying to say that you would have just signed off on us bringing back Bea? We all know that’s a load of-- that’d never happen.” She caught herself as anger burned in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t you bring our grandmother into this. That has nothing to do with what’s being discussed here..” She glared at Helena. Bitch. She’d never liked Helena and even less so now. 

Nisa’s eyes flashed towards Helena, the witch having hit the sorest of spots when it came to her family and history. She was right. Nisa had worked hard to continue to build on the family legacy her mother had tried to tarnish by dabbling with demons. But she knew better than to think that Helena was bringing it up for any productive reasons. “Yes— well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it is to uphold and grow a family legacy, Helena.” The Matsdotter family was relatively young in comparison to the Vurals and some of the other witch families, yet to have a place on the coven council until Helena had come along. “Thankfully, Lucinda is correct in saying that the crimes of the past are, indeed, past.” But there was some truth in the other parts of Helena’s words. What had antagonised August? “There is still a piece of the puzzle missing, though. Why did August feel the need to hire a killer?” She looked each of her daughters’ directly in the eyes, showing no mercy when it came to needings answers. “As for what this council may or may not have done in the face of Beatrice’s death, we can’t possibly assume anything one way or the other. For we weren’t given the chance to pass judgement.”

An amused smirk grew on Bea’s lips as Helena spoke to their mother, though she quickly schooled her face. She had expected the Council to act like adults and yet here they were, digging into past issues. “Because he was a cowardly man who realized he would have no chance against Nell? He was a mediocre spellcaster at best and Nell is one of the better in the Coven.” She couldn’t help the snort that came out then, “We all know what would have been done. I would be condemned to rotting in the ground because you all would have never allowed for them to learn my craft.” She had pulled away from the coven for many reasons, but this right here was one them. She never wanted to face people who refused to learn that there was beauty in necromancy. “No one trusts this Coven to do what’s right when it comes to things of this nature. So we have to do them behind your back. You all would rather stay in the past than to see why what we did was good and just.”

Though Rosemary hardly liked drudging up the unpleasantries of the past, Helena brought up a fair point-- this behavior, going against the ways of the coven, taking matters into their own hands, practicing dangerous magic were all hallmark traits of Nisa’s mother. And these girls seemed to have inherited that desire to test the limits of what could be done. Or rather, what should be done. At this point, what alarmed her was how blatant they had been with their practices. It seemed as though the girls hadn’t even attempted to hide what they’d done. That sort of thing was sure to attract attention, from the wrong kinds of people. People who would seek to harm the coven. “Penelope, do not cite the ties of family to me-- this coven is my family. And the laws exist for that precise reason, to protect us all from harm. What you did, it could attract unwanted attention. By practicing this magic, you endanger not only yourselves, but the rest of the coven.” She said, her voice trembling with worry. “How dare you insult this coven, Beatrice. Nature has laws, magic has laws that must be abided by. Your very presence is... “ She swallowed, “Unnatural.”

“Well you’re not acting as if it’s your family,” Nell retorted hotly before listening to the rest of Rosemary’s words. Not even her mother was acting like family in these moments. Family would fight for one another, just as Bea and Luce and Nell had fought for each other. It shouldn't hurt. Not after all these years of similar treatment. Nell had expected as much, but foresight couldn’t help her when it came to saving her from the twist of Nisa’s distanced knife. As the council member carried on, she wondered if there was perhaps the smallest grain of truth in the older woman’s words. Would outside forces try and bring harm to the coven for what the girls had done? But no. Certainly there were other ways. “There wouldn’t even be any unwanted attention if it wasn’t brought to light! Who’s going to tell people? I sure won’t. The only reason there’d be any danger would be from the council telling people about it.” Still, what if people did come after her sisters? If they somehow stayed in the coven, would that make the two of them safer? She had one more card to play— didn’t she? Something that could hopefully distract from what Luce and Bea had done. “August wanted to kill me because I stole his memories. Took them after he caught me summoning a demon. He was going to out me to the council, but I stopped him. I guess I take after my grandmother Suna more than we thought. So really, this was all my fault.” Let the blame fall to her.

Being scolded wasn’t unexpected and Helena could deal with the ire of Nisa. All she wanted to do was remind those on the council that Nisa’s blood sang with issues. With this blow to her reputation, perhaps it would be easier to start sowing distrust in the other council members. “You three have brought unnecessary danger to our coven. You were selfish and went against everything we have taught you. You children turned your backs on the people who raised you.” Helena regarded Nell with a cold look,“You admit to more crimes then? I suppose we should discuss punishment.” Helena turned to look at her fellow council members, before looking forward to the guilty. “You have admitted to murder and breaking our most sacred rules. You have become things unnatural and have hurt the cycle of the universe by doing so. Some of the council members would not be opposed to sacrificing your lives to bring order again. Others wish to be lenient and simply excommunicate you from the coven.”

Luce resisted the urge to groan when Nell stepped forward, telling them about the demon summoning, the circumstances surrounding why they’d been involved with August in the first place. They weren’t on trial for any of that, they weren’t being asked about it. Why the fuck had she brought it up? Before Luce could intervene, Helena spoke of… sacrificing their lives? Her eyes widened and she stared, first at Helena, then to their mother. She knew that the coven would deliver punishment for what they’d done, but-- death? That was what was on the table here? How could the council even consider that. “Who on the council wants to sacrifice our lives to the great order of things, Helena?” Luce snapped, leveling the woman with a searing glare. “A life for a life, equivalent exchange-- yes. We sacrificed August, but it never would have happened if he hadn’t attempted to-- no, if he hadn’t killed Bea. She’s only here because we intervened. Because the council would have never helped us and would have never punished him for what he’d done.” Her hands shook with anger at her sides, but she held herself tall, proud. The coven… they couldn’t kill them. They couldn’t. 

For a small moment, utter shock had paralyzed Nisa. Demons as well? Had she failed her daughters so miserably that they were repeating the sins of her mother and more? Where had she gone so miserably wrong that all three of her children had even brushed against the illegal practices of the coven? Had she not hammered into each and every one of their heads how important family was? How they needed to protect one another and hold the family name in high esteem? Perhaps she’d taught them a little too well— to the point where they were willing to save their sister’s life over all else. And if she’d been given the chance to save her brother, killed by that Miriam bitch all those years ago...would she have done it if it meant throwing away everything she’d worked to build back after the shaming and excommunication of her own mother? But breaking through the anger and shame of these thoughts was the mention of death. To kill her three daughters? The little girls she’d raised from diapers, and cleaned the scrapes of? To watch them fall? It was unthinkable. She’d spent her entire life trying to steer them right, cornering them into protective and approved spaces where they wouldn’t be hurt. “We’ve never made ourselves a coven that doles out death, and I don’t anticipate we’ll start now,” her tone was steely and cold, the protectiveness of a mother finally peeking through. “Playing with death is one of the very reasons necromancy is banned, and why these three women are on trial now. To dabble in it would make us hypocrites.”

Bea’s shoulders grew tense as she heard the words sacrifice and without even meaning, she looked toward her mother. Nisa wouldn’t allow that. She wouldn’t make her die twice. Bea’s jaw clenched, she refused to cry at the prospect of death, not in front of these people. They would take that as a sign weakness and Bea couldn’t afford to be weak here. Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly as her mother spoke against the penalty of death. Her mouth was dry, but she spoke anyway. “I take then we’re excommunicated and not allowed to contact those in the Coven? Or use your resources?” Bea might have distanced herself but she still had friends there. Her grandmother was still there and Bea loved her grandmother. Her parents were there and even though she was angry and disappointed in them, the isolation this punishment would give her made her throat tight. They would miss out on so many moments in her life and her sisters’ lives. Guilt pooled in her stomach. Bringing her back now meant the loss of their family. She straightened her back. They were deciding this. It wasn’t as though she had chosen to die. Their parents were deciding to leave them behind, she could live with their decision, even if it stung as badly as the blade that had taken her life. 

Rosemary’s breath caught in the back of her throat when Helena said those words-- there had been murmurs of bringing the girls to justice, of meting out punishment in order to demonstrate what became of those who attempted to fight against the natural order of things. And, their crimes, their crimes. Demon summoning, necromancy, murder, violence within the coven? Such things would attract so much attention to the coven. People would notice, people were bound to talk. And what then? What fate would befall them all? Helena’s methods were brutal, but punishment… it needed to be delivered. And the girls, though she loved them dearly, were far too dangerous to be affiliated with the coven of the Silver Flame. At Bea’s words, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I hope you all understand that I take no joy in this. But, yes. It is far too dangerous, for all of us, for you to remain within our coven. We cannot extend our protection to those who would bring harm to the very community they are a part of.” Looking around at the other members, she spoke in a clear voice, “I vote for excommunication. Council?”

In the span of a short moment, death as a sentence had come and gone. If she’d blinked, Nell might have missed the entire interaction. Still, she had felt her magic pool in her gut. If the council had been set on killing her and her sisters, she would have been ready to fight, to tear their way out of here and never look back, or at least try not to. Things of the past often had a way of making themselves unforgettable. As it stood, the council had begun to vote, and that familiar sense of powerlessness began to creep along Nell’s neck. They wouldn’t take the coven away from her. They couldn’t. Even if it was full of rules she broke, and council members of hypocrites, that wasn’t all this place was. The coven was her home, her literal family with the Vurals making up a good chunk of it, a place she’d always been able to be herself when there was nowhere else in the world she’d been able to do that. And now it was going to be ripped away? Just like that? It’d be taken from her sisters, too. Control was slipping out of their grasps along with the coven, and Nell tried vainly to grab the fraying ends of it, to tie a knot on the last of the rope. She turned to face her mother. “Do something! Can’t you just do something for once? Be on our side for two fucking seconds?!”

Nisa’s youngest daughter’s pleading voice fell on hard ears, though they weren’t entirely deaf. “I did so something, Penelope. I told you time and time again what would happen if you continued down this path, and now your sisters are on it as well.” There was only one way for them to learn, wasn’t there? They wouldn’t realize the error of their ways until they hit rock bottom. So if it was tough love they needed as a teacher, it was what they would get. Taking the time to make eye contact with each of her children, she simply said, “Let this be a lesson.” It would be as hard for her as it was for them. Then she turned to the council, her shoulders having never moved from their steeled position. “I cast my vote for excommunication.”

Bea stepped forward, grabbing Nell’s hand, trying to tug her back. She turned to glare at Nisa, rage rolling off of her as she stared her mother down. “This path was my own and I took them down it. I taught them necromancy. This isn’t Nell’s fault.” Stepping forward, Bea pointed at Nisa, hand shaking with anger as her voice raised. “This is your fault. You have blamed Nell since she was a child. You ignored Luce. You were a bad mother! You were fucking blind to what any of us needed unless it fit what you wanted! That’s what put us on this path.” She lowered her hand, head shaking,“I wanted to be you, Nisa,” She pronounced her mother’s name sharply. She would never call that woman Mama again. “I’m disappointed that you’ve picked a coven over your children. I hope they’re as loyal to you as you are to them.”

Death seemed almost preferable to excommunication as Luce heard her mother cast her vote against them. They were being thrown out, tossed aside, abandoned by the only people who could ever understand their struggles. Had she done terrible things? Yes. There was no denying that. And she had known there would be a price to pay. But she had tricked herself into believing that their mother would never turn her back on them, would never choose the coven over them. And now, reality was staring her hard in the face. "We are exactly the women you raised, Mother. Nothing more and nothing less than that! We did what we knew was right, what you taught us was right!" Luce yelled before shaking her head. But, she knew their fates were sealed.

Nell was crumbling in a way only her mother could cause, the rockfall known as Nisa Vural taking no prisoners as she barreled through the three of them. She recognized Bea and Luce’s anger, had experienced it herself for years growing up when faced with the injustices of their mother. She still felt it even now, boiling down beneath her broken heart as their mother laid down her verdict. It’d taken her far too long to learn that chasing after her mother’s approval was a fool’s game, and now her sisters would have to realize it for themselves. “She’s not worth it,” she said in a trembling voice, linking hands with her sisters to pull them towards the doors of the chambers. It was time to go. “She’s not fucking worth us. We’re better off without her.” Maybe if she said it aloud to her sisters, she’d believe it was true. Nell had told herself long ago that she wouldn’t let her mother break her heart anymore, that she wouldn’t let Nisa Vural have any power over her and the way she felt. But no matter how many times she’d whispered the words to herself, a part of her still struggled to make them true. “We don’t need them. We don’t. We’ve got what we need right here,” she said with a squeeze against her sisters’ hands. But it was hard to believe what she was saying when an errant tear was sneaking down her cheek. “We’ll show them,” she finished hotly, refusing to address the way her chest felt like it’d been cleaved in two. Replace it with anger and empty spaces and move on.

The only phrase that could describe Helena in this moment was ‘cat got the cream’. Watching the almighty Vural family crumble in front of her was absolutely amazing. How amusing to see them go after each other over and over again. “I cast my vote for excommunication.” The other two members echoed her cast and she looked towards the former Coven members. “You have been officially excommunicated for the crimes you committed against the Witches of the Silver Flame. You can not seek protection from our coven, you can not use our resources, and you can not reach out for assistance. Current members of the coven will not speak to you or risk receiving punishment themselves. You have made your bed, now you must lie in it. Good luck without us, darlings.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #ch:luce #ch:nisa #ch:bea #severance

[changingourdestiny]

Season of the Hunt Part 7: A Cold War

Summary:

Dawning is here at last! To celebrate, Blaze brings Crow to the Tower. However, things take a very chilly turn thanks to Cayde.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“I can’t believe this is happening.” It had been a little over two weeks since Blaze and Crow’s mission to restore Hawkmoon. The two were currently in Blaze’s ship and were flying towards Earth. “How did you manage to convince Spider to let you do this?” Crow asked “He needed some items delivered to Drifter, so I promised him that I’d deliver them if you got to come over for the Dawning.” Blaze replied. “And you’re sure no one will try to shoot at me or Glint?” “100%. Use of weapons, abilities, and Supers in the Tower is forbidden unless in the case of an emergency. And if anyone tries, they’ll have Rae to answer to and, trust me when I say this, she is damn scary when she’s angry. Something she definitely gets from Ikora…” Blaze muttered the last part. “I’ll admit, I’m still a little nervous.” Crow shuffled in his seat a bit, “The Vanguard probably know of what my past self did. To say things will be awkward is an understatement.” “Don’t worry about that either. Rae and Osiris gave them a heads up as to what’s happening. As far as they’re concerned, that man is dead and you’re a Kinderguardian celebrating the Dawning.” Blaze reached a hand back and held Crow’s, “It’ll be great. I promise. And I won’t leave your side for a second.” Crow gave a slight smile as he squeezed Blaze’s hand, feeling a little less anxious.

“We’re here!” Firefly chirped happily, as the ship arrived in the Tower hanger. “Ready?” Blaze asked. “As I’ll ever be.” Crow replied. The duo transmatted out of Blaze’s ship into the hangar. “Whoa…” Crow breathed, looking around. The huge hanger was decorated with Dawning decorations and lanterns, with piles of snow lying about. Blaze chuckled, “You’re making the exact same face I made when I first came here.” “Sans the nearly burning the Tower down!” Firefly giggled. “H-hey!” Blaze began to chase Firefly in a circle, the latter dodging and weaving out of her grasp. “Well I’m not wrong!” “That doesn’t mean you should say it!” “Why? Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?” “FIREFLY!” Crow let out a small laugh before hearing a voice yell from nearby. “What’s with all the noise over there?” Blaze stopped chasing Firefly, allowing the Ghost to disappear, as Cayde poked his head from around the corner. Crow wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt a pang of uneasiness. He quickly dismissed it as nerves as Cayde noticed him. “So this is the new Light, huh?” Cayde asked, walking over to the two. “Yep! Cayde, this is Crow.” Blaze introduced, “Crow, this is Cayde; the Hunter Vanguard.” “Welcome to the Tower, Crow.” Blaze could hear a hint of mischief in Cayde’s voice, “And just in time too. Let’s go!” Cayde grabbed Crow and Blaze by the arms and began to drag them towards the courtyard. “In time for what?!” Crow exclaimed, caught off guard by the Exo’s sudden enthusiasm. “You’ll see!” Cayde called over his shoulder. Crow looked at Blaze who just shrugged and gave him a look as if to say, ‘See where I get it from now?’.

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

In the courtyard, Zavala was giving a short speech to some of the Guardians for the Dawning in hopes it would keep spirits up. Adam, who was among the Guardians, couldn’t help but glance around in suspicion. “You’re quieter than usual, Bergfalk.” Shaxx noted. “Have you noticed the distinct lack of Hunters here?” Adam asked, “Plus it’s too quiet. I think something’s afoot.” “Relax, Titan! I understand your unease due to recent events, but it’s the Dawning! Who would disrupt-?” “Attention Zavala and Titans!!” Everyone’s attention was drawn to the platform above Eververse. Cayde stood looking down at them with a confident stance along with Blaze, who was smirking with pride, and Crow, who seemed a little confused as to what was happening. “Earlier this year, you won the Guardian Games and took the trophy that Zavala so proudly displays at his post.” Cayde continued, “But today, we issue you a challenge! A snowball fight! If the Hunters win, we get to have the trophy for the rest on the Dawning!” “He’s still not over the loss, is he?” Shaxx muttered. “Nope.” Adam replied with a sigh. “And what if I refuse, Cayde?” Zavala called up to him. “You can’t, because…” Suddenly, Hunters sprung from their hiding places around the courtyard. “We have you surrounded!” Cayde laughed triumphantly, “You’ll never prevail!” To their surprise, Zavala chuckled, “Impressive strategy, Cayde. However, very predictable.” “W-what?!” “I saw your attack coming…and planned for it. Ikora, Rae?” Out of nowhere, Ikora teleported herself and Rae behind Cayde, Blaze and Crow as Warlocks flooded the courtyard. “You hired the Warlocks?!” Blaze exclaimed while Cayde stared at Rae with a look of betrayal. “Sorry, everyone. But this rebellion of yours must be stopped.” Ikora said with a small smirk on her face, “Ready, Rae-?”

*SPLAT!*

Ikora was caught off-guard as a snowball hit her in the side of the head, followed by a small chuckle that evolved into an evil laugh from Rae. “Hahaha! I fooled you, Ikora!”

“What?!”

“Sorry, teach. But I will always be loyal to my chaotic companions!” Rae grinned, standing by the trio of Hunters. “Yay, Rae!” Blaze cheered. “Ah, I knew you’d never betray me, Sunrae!” Cayde laughed, giving Rae a playful nudge before turning to the Titans below, “With that being said: Mission is a go! Retrieve the trophy and bring it to the hangar! Hunters, attack!!!”

“Do not let up, Titans!” Zavala commanded.

The courtyard was filled with shouts and snowballs, a few Guardians sneaking in Stasis snowballs. Surprisingly enough, the Hunters were able to overpower the Warlocks and Titans.

“We got it!!”

Everyone turned to see Rae, Crow and Blaze lifting the trophy. “Protect them until we get to the hangar!” Cayde called out, “Go, go, go!!!”

The trio ran as quickly as they could with the trophy in tow. “Hurry! I’ll cover you!” Marcia waved to them from the hangar entrance as she pelted the incoming Titans and Warlocks with snowballs, “Dredgens! Protect Dredgen Fate and her friends!”

A group of Guardians in Gambit gear came flooding out of the hangar, keeping the Titans and Warlocks back.

“Since when were you a Dredgen?!” Rae exclaimed.

“Over a year ago. I got bored!” Blaze replied.

“We’re almost there!” Crow called out as they made it to Cayde’s post.

“Hurry! Set it up!”

The trio carefully stood the statue upright at the post. “I’m here!” Cayde came rushing into the Hanger with white and gold spray paint. “It’s not permanent, right?” Rae asked. “Of course not! I’m not a monster!” Cayde replied as he began to spray the lion white after handing Blaze the other spray can, and she began spraying the snake gold. “Aaaaand done!” Cayde announced as the Hunters came flooding into the Hangar, Marcia in the front. Marcia threw her hands up in victory upon seeing the trophy, “VICTORY!!!”

A cheer went up among the Hunters and Dredgens as Zavala and Ikora entered behind them. “Well, a deal is a deal.” Zavala sighed, despite the small smile on his face, “Hunters are the temporary victors for the Dawning.”

“Is it always like this here?” Crow asked with a chuckle, trying to be heard over the thunderous cheering. “Oh yes!” Blaze laughed.

As the Guardians began to filter out of the hangar, Rae smiled as she brushed off some leftover snow that was stuck to her robes and fixed her scarf, “Sorry your first time here was a little crazy, Crow.” “A little?” Glint mumbled as he shook snow off his shell – he had gotten hit in the crossfire. “Trust me, this is only a little bit crazier than normal life here!” Sundance popped up beside Cayde, “Oh, and I’m Sundance, by the way. Cayde’s ghost and 50% of his impulse control. Rae’s the other 50.” “Hey, I’m not that impulsive!” Cayde feigned offense. “Alright, mister ‘I-got-stuck-in-a-Vex-teleport-loop’!” “That was ONE time!” “And who had to save you again?” Rae raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms. “The Warlock who I love and can always count on to save my life?” Cayde shot double finger guns and a wink at Rae who tried to keep a straight face but ended up snickering at Cayde, “Stop trying to be cool! I can’t be serious when you do!” “Not trying, ‘cause I am cool!” “Ew! Stop flirting!” Sundance groaned before disappearing. “It’s been two years, you should be used to it by now!” Cayde called after her as Rae giggled. “Are they…?” Crow began with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. “Yep.” Blaze finished with a smile before whispering, “They were crushing on each other for like four years and it was super obvious to everyone except them.” “That long? It took us only a few weeks.” “I know, right?” “What are you two whispering about over there?” Rae asked with suspicion. “Nothing!” Blaze smiled innocently as Crow let out a light chuckle. “Riiight.” Rae rolled her eyes playfully as Zavala and Ikora approached the group. “So is this the new Lightbearer you and Osiris told us about?” Ikora asked. “Yep.” Rae replied, “Crow, this is Ikora – the Warlock Vanguard – and Zavala – the Titan Vanguard and the Guardians’ commander.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Crow greeted. “Rae and Osiris have informed us of the situation with Xivu Arath. It’s good to hear Fireteam Paralight have been receiving help in handling her minions.” Zavala nodded. “Not that hunting Hive Gods is anything new to you three.” Ikora gave a slight smile, “Speaking of. Where is…?” Ikora was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. There was a very unimpressed Adam covered head to toe in snow. “Now I know why Shaxx keeps his helmet on.” He groaned as he shrugged off the snow. “That’s a good look for you, Adam!” Blaze laughed, which resulted in her receiving a snowball to the face. “Anyway, Eva wants you.” Adam began, “Something about cookies you ordered?” “Oh yeah!” Blaze’s face lit up, “Crow, follow me! I’ll meet you guys in the meeting room later!” “That’s what it’s for!” Rae chuckled as Blaze and Crow headed back towards the courtyard.

To Be Continued…

#Changing our Destiny #blaze kiria #the crow #destiny crow #glint #destiny glint #ghost #destiny ghost #cayde-6 #destiny cayde #Zavala #destiny zavala #lord shaxx #destiny shaxx #adam bergfalk #ikora rey #rae drakyx #fireteam paralight #marcia wyverk #sundance #destiny sundance #destiny 2 #dawning #destiny dawning

[perfecttimeseleven]

PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN EP. 4 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE SCENE SIX

(REMINGTON enters.)

DAISY

Hey, Remy Ratatouille.

REMINGTON

Hey, Linguini.

DAISY

Unlocked her full tragic backstory?

REMINGTON

You could say that, yes. Where did she go?

DAISY

Listen, this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I’d say let her cool down for a while. It’s been a...day.

REMINGTON

It’s been a day!

(looks around, seeing the door to the balcony)

Can I go onto the balcony? I need some air.

DAISY

Knock yourself out.

(REMINGTON bursts out dramatically onto the balcony, shutting the door behind her. She steps forward, looking over into the backyard, seeing something strange.)

REMINGTON

Oh — oh fuck! Oh fuck! Uh— What the fuck?

HP

(from the backyard)

Are you Remington Long?

REMINGTON

Who are you and why are you in the backyard? Why are you holding a pizza? Are you the Domino’s angel?

HP

Remington! Go long!

(HP tosses the pizza. REMINGTON catches it.)

REMINGTON

(staring in awe at the pizza, then back at HP)

You are the Domino’s angel...

(There’s an almost firecracker-like popping noise where HP is, and then a popping noise close to REMINGTON.)

REMINGTON

Oh! How — how did you do that? You were there...and then ... just here... I mean...you were far, far away and now you’re so...close...

HP

(now, indeed, quite close)

Are you Remington Long?

REMINGTON

Why, yes, I am Remington Long. Who’s asking?

HP

(grabbing REMINGTON’s face with both hands, before leaning in and inspecting it, smushing REMINGTON’s face a little)

Good! I knew it.

REMINGTON

Your hands are so fucking cold.

(HP lets go of REMINGTON.)

HP

My dear Eleven, you are so so so so so so so so so much more than you realize!

REMINGTON

Eleven? Like eleven voices? How the fuck did you know that?

HP

(points at the box of pizza)

Pizza! Here. For you. Take it. Good. Enjoy! See you soon.

REMINGTON

Wait, who...are you?

HP

I’m HP. I think.

REMINGTON

HP? Like the printer? Or Harry Potter?

HP

Nononono. “...Honorary...Perfectionist.” For now, I’m the pizza man! With the pizza! For you. Byeeeeeeeee!

(HP heads to the balcony stairs.)

REMINGTON

Hey, uh, this isn’t cheese. They said they got cheese pizza! This is spinach! Hey, uh, on your shirt — that’s not tomato sauce...

HP

(farther away)

No refunds ‘cause the pizza guy was stabbed!

(HP heads down the stairs with the gait of a five-year-old heading to the ball pit.)

REMINGTON

Ahh, that makes sense.

(fully digesting the info, before rushing after HP)

Wait, what? Stabbed?

HP

Yeowch! Stabby stabby.

REMINGTON

The fuck? Hey! Wait up!

(HP runs into some bushes. REMINGTON follows him down into the backyard. HP has left. She looks around the bushes he ran into but there’s nothing there.)

REMINGTON

(to self)

Where the fuck did he go? Are these bushes Narnia?

(REMINGTON sticks her head into the bushes but all she gets is a mouthful of leaves.)

REMINGTON

The fuck?

(REMINGTON shudders, before running across the backyard)

REMINGTON

(louder)

Hey, uh, guys?

(making her way up the stairs)

Dr. Morello? Daisy? Jay?

(REMINGTON runs across the balcony and exits into the house.)

ACT ONE

SCENE SEVEN

(There are sounds of paper being shuffled when the balcony door opens loudly. REMINGTON enters, holding the pizza. She’s out of breath.)

REMINGTON

(gasping for air)

Daisy!...There you are!...

(DAISY sees that REMINGTON’s looking at the papers. She quickly stashes them into her hoodie pocket.)

DAISY

Remy? What the hell happened? Why are you...covered in leaves and despair like you went chasing after an evil Hozier? Is that the pizza?

REMINGTON

Hold on...let me catch my breath.

(lightly confused)

Wh...what are you doing?

DAISY

Uh, just cleaning out your guest bedroom. Where did you come from?

(REMINGTON points off stage, breathless.)

REMINGTON

Backyard.

DAISY

And you’re winded by that set of tiny stairs?

(REMINGTON nods silently.)

REMINGTON

Daisy, a...a sexy printer man disappeared into the bushes!

DAISY

A what?

REMINGTON

A sexy printer man...

(finally seems to recover)

...he gave me this pizza. And said he stabbed the pizza guy.

DAISY

Uh, he what?

REMINGTON

And then he was just gone!

(JAY and DR. MORELLO enter.)

DR. MORELLO

What’s going on?

DAISY

(very confused)

Remy says she saw a guy who stabbed a pizza man or something and then vanished...I don’t even know.

REMINGTON

Yeah! He called himself, like, “Honorary Perfectionist”?

(There’s a pause.)

REMINGTON

What is it? Do you guys know him or something?

JAY

No, but “Perfectionist” is...

DR. MORELLO

‘Perfectionist” is a word used to describe people like us. In the same way you have coined us “dead-people-in-your-head people”. But it’s used by not-so-nice folks, in a not-so-endearing way...

DAISY

(summarizing)

If someone calls you a Perfectionist, beat them up.

DR. MORELLO

What did this man look like? Be as descriptive as you can.

REMINGTON

Ooh. Okay, this one is a doozy. So he was kinda dressed like a delivery man, but fucked up. Real fucked up. Like he was alligator wrestling or some shit. He was wearing like, one of those mesh shirts, you know? Like the kind you wear to music festivals and shit? I actually own the same one, no cap — it has roses and angels on it and it says, umm, like, “Not Your Baby” or some shit like that — and he had some sort of holographic skirt, maybe? It was super torn up. And then the Domino’s jacket over all of that. He had no shoes, though, and this, like, colorful, chunky scarf, and just — random shit everywhere. Like, tied bits of fabric on his arms and legs and weird earrings and chunky bead bracelets and it was just a lot. And he had these sunglasses —- like sun-shaped novelty sunglasses, and his eyes were dark dark blue like oceans in the North and I felt I could drift on them forever.

Also, he was covered in blood, kinda.

(DAISY and DR. MORELLO sigh.)

DR. MORELLO

That’s actually a pretty good description, I suppose. Did you say anything to him?

REMINGTON

Oh, definitely not anything big. Only confirmed my name was Remington Long and that I was an Eleven.

(More sighing.)

DR. MORELLO

God. Uh. Okay. Remington, you have to be very, very cautious of this man, understand?

REMINGTON

Why? He seems chill.

DAISY

Sis, you yourself just said he was covered in blood.

DR. MORELLO

Remington, throughout, ah, the ages, there have always been those opposed to our kind. Wherever there are witches, there will be witch hunters.

REMINGTON

There are witches? —

DR. MORELLO

There are no witches. I — I was trying to be...ah. Profound, I suppose. Ah.

(pauses)

I need you to stay inside for the rest of your time here. Let us know immediately if you see this man again.

REMINGTON

Aren’t we going to go after him or something?

JAY

We don’t just go after people who call themselves Honorary Perfectionists. This guy is a threat, but we don’t know enough about him.

DR. MORELLO

(motioning to the pizza)

Did he give you this?

REMINGTON

Uh, yeah. It’s spinach, though, not cheese. Not the most evil of pizza flavors, unless you factor in the evil fate is directing at you when someone gets your order wrong.

JAY

Don’t change the subject. Listen. They know who you are now. It’s not the time to be an idiot.

REMINGTON

When is idiot o’clock then?

JAY

Shut up. You’re an Eleven. Elevens don’t get the luxury of fooling around or they end up dead.

DAISY

(surprisingly loudly)

Well, fuck you!

DR. MORELLO

Daisy!

JAY

(shouting back)

Hey, no, fuck him!

DR. MORELLO

Jay!

REMINGTON

(lost)

Fuck me?

DR. MORELLO

Remington!

DAISY

Asshole!

(DAISY storms out.)

DR. MORELLO

Daisy!

JAY

(annoyed)

Come on.

DR. MORELLO

We’ll have dinner later, it looks like. If you kids hadn’t gotten everything so heated...

(sighs)

Meanwhile, Jay, do you have your...?

JAY

Yeah.

(JAY digs around in her pockets and produces a switchblade.)

REMINGTON

Do you carry a switchblade around?

(to self)

God, that’s so hot.

JAY

What?

REMINGTON

What?

DR. MORELLO

We’ll go scout the backyard, check if everything is safe and see where he got in and out. Remington, stay inside.

REMINGTON

All righty.

(DR. MORELLO and JAY exit.)

ACT ONE

SCENE EIGHT

(DAISY is sobbing quietly. The door creaks open. REMINGTON enters, before sitting down next to DAISY. DAISY wipes at her face, still sniffling a little.)

REMINGTON

Daisy! Hey, you all right?

DAISY

Y-yeah.

(DAISY composes herself and sits upright.)

REMINGTON

So, uh, Dr. Morello said something about video games? I’m morally opposed to gamers but I’m up for whatever.

DAISY

Yeah, take a look. They’re in there.

(DAISY points at a cupboard under the TV. REMINGTON walks over and opens it, revealing lots of boxed discs. She flips through them thoughtfully.)

REMINGTON

(pulling out a box triumphantly)

Just Dance. Three.

DAISY

N...no. Why?

REMINGTON

(starting to jive terribly)

You scared of my superior dance moves?

DAISY

(relaxing)

Heh. Not at all.

(DAISY jumps up and grabs the box, pulling out the disc and inserting it into the player.)

DAISY

Fine. But I pick the song.

(DAISY turns on the TV, grabs two Wii remotes, and tosses one to REMINGTON. They flick through some songs.)

REMINGTON

Lollipop by MIKA! Fuckin’ bops only, bitch.

DAISY

What, this is the kind of music you listen to? Thought you’d be all up in that Oh Hellos or Lumineers type shit.

REMINGTON

The dark academia look is a facade. High score “ravenclaw”? Is that you?

DAISY

Nah, I’m there in second: “hufflepuff”. We got this in the height of our collective Harry Potter phase — I was in fourth grade, I think.

(to self, almost)

I was “hufflepuff”, he was “ravenclaw”, Jay was “jay” because she was a buzzkill —

REMINGTON

Who’s “he”?

DAISY

What? Oh. My brother. Mark. He…left. Let’s do this.

REMINGTON

For MIKA!

DAISY

For MIKA!

(clicks a button)

Here, put in your name.

REMINGTON

I’ll go with the theme. “can i slytherin”. There.

(The game starts up. DAISY and REMINGTON begin to jive along.)

DAISY

(out of breath)

You’re…so…not…into…it!

(There’s a little chime noise.)

REMINGTON

What’s that?

DAISY

You…got…a…star.

REMINGTON

(innocently)

Well, if you’re so much more into it, why didn’t you?

DAISY

Touché.

(A couple seconds later, DAISY also gets a star.)

REMINGTON

Ayy!

DAISY

Ayy!

(They both stop dancing. REMINGTON walks forward and pauses the game.)

REMINGTON

(turning to DAISY)

Look, I’m sorry for asking about Mark. He’s none of my business.

(DAISY sits down.)

DAISY

(quietly)

The weird thing is, he’s exactly your business.

(pauses)

He is…he was, I should say…an Eleven.

REMINGTON

(sitting down next to her)

Oh. Well, shit! That’s quite nice to know! Where’s he now?

DAISY

He passed away.

REMINGTON

Oh. I’m sorry.

(pointing to DAISY’s beanie)

That his hat?

DAISY

What? Oh. Yeah. He was a hardcore fan in middle school.

REMINGTON

All the best people had a Harry Potter phase. I mean, J.K. may be a gross TERF and antisemite, but...

DAISY

Yeah.

REMINGTON

(points to DAISY’s hoodie pocket)

Are those his drawings? I mean, I’m guessing my guest bedroom was his?

DAISY

Yeah.

(taking one out)

I’m impressed; you only saw these for a second.

REMINGTON

Oh, it’s a drawing of you! He’s good.

DAISY

Yeah. Hey, uh, don’t tell Dr. Morello or Jay, okay? They hate him.

REMINGTON

Why do they hate him?

DAISY

Because of him, a house...kinda burned down. That’s how he died, too.

REMINGTON

Oh. Damn. That sucks.

DAISY

Yeah, it sure does. After that incident, everything changed. Dr. Morello’s convinced there’s danger around every corner. Forget high school, forget college — we have “enemies” out there or God knows what. Geez. My life’s a fricking shitshow.

(8. Why Me?)

DAISY

I’M SEVENTEEN AND A BIT,

ON THE BRINK OF ADULTHOOD,

ON THE BRINK OF FALLING APART.

I’M SEVENTEEN AND IT’S SHIT,

‘CAUSE NONE OF THE ADULTS WOULD

TAKE ANYTHING I SAY TO HEART,

SO I JUST FADE INTO THE BACKGROUND

OF THIS JADED LIVING ROOM.

I PLAY VIDEO GAMES, HANG WITH JAY

IN THIS HOUSE THAT FEELS LIKE A TOMB.

I’M SEVENTEEN AND LIFE’S A BORE

WHEN, UNLIKE YOUR TEENAGE PEERS,

THERE’S NOTHING WAITING FOR YOU IN LIFE, SOMEHOW.

I’M SEVENTEEN AND IT’S A CHORE

TO THINK, IN THIRTY YEARS,

I’LL STILL BE EXACTLY WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW!

STUCK WITH THE SAME HOUSE, THE SAME BACKYARD,

AND THE SAME DRAB FURNITURE.

THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS I’LL BE MUCH MORE

TIRED OF IT ALL, THAT’S FOR SURE!

AND I WONDER “WHY ME?”

LIFE’S REALLY JUST FRICKIN’ HELL

WHEN YOU’RE THE LATEST SHELL

FOR A SOUL THAT’S LIVED LIVES WELL.

GOD, WHY ME?

CHOSEN TO THROW MY WHOLE LIFE AWAY

TO MAINTAIN THIS SOUL’S GRADE A

STATUS! A MORTAL APPARATUS TO DECAY!

I’M SEVENTEEN AND IT’S SAD

BECAUSE THAT’S SO MUCH FARTHER ALONG

THAN MY BROTHER HAD A CHANCE TO GET.

I’M SEVENTEEN AND IT MAKES ME MAD

WHEN PEOPLE SAY HE WAS SO WRONG

FOR DOING WHAT HE DID AND YET

I DON’T BELIEVE THEY HAD ANY BETTER

JUDGEMENT THAN HIM WHEN THEY WERE FOURTEEN!

THINGS ARE EASY TO SEE IN BLACK AND WHITE.

THAT’S NOT HOW THINGS SHOULD BE SEEN!

I’M SEVENTEEN AND I FEAR

THAT SOMEDAY I MIGHT FORGET HIM,

AND GOD, WHO ELSE HAS HE GOT?

I’M SEVENTEEN AND EVERY YEAR —

WELL, THIS IS GRIM,

BUT ON MY BIRTHDAY, I FEEL HE OUGHT

TO BE THE ONE INSTEAD OF ME

CELEBRATING HIS YOUTH.

HE’D BE NINETEEN IF HE WERE HERE TODAY!

THE TRUTH IS

SOMETIMES I WONDER “WHY ME?”

YEAH, IT MIGHT SOUND CLICHE,

BUT I WONDER WHERE I WAS THAT DAY

AND SOMETIMES I PRAY

THAT IT HAD BEEN ME INSTEAD.

WHY ME?

THE WORLD LEADS KIDS DOWN THE WRONG ROAD,

BUT I SHOULD’VE BEEN THERE FOR HIM ALL ALONG, SO,

IN SOME WAY, I’M TO BLAME.

DID I NOT SEE ANY WARNING SIGN?

HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO GODDAMN BLIND?

IN A WAY, IT WAS MY FAULT HE BURNED DOWN THAT HOUSE.

‘CAUSE DID HE NOT TRUST IN ME ENOUGH TO SHARE

OR DID HE THINK THAT I WOULDN’T CARE?

REGARDLESS, I WILL TAKE MY VOWS

TO TREASURE EVERY MEMORY

‘CAUSE I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW HIM AS HE WAS.

CAN’T LEAVE THE STORYLINE TO THEM OR HE

WILL BE WRITTEN AS A VILLAIN AND THUS

YOU LEARN NOT TO ASK “WHY ME?”

LIFE IS FUNNY, IN A WAY,

WHEN IT CHOOSES WHO LEAVES AND WHO GETS TO STAY,

BUT HE’D SAY SOMETHING CHEESY LIKE “STAY STRONG, DAZE;

I TRUST YOU.”

YOU DON’T ASK “WHY ME?”

YOU HOARD THE LAST REMNANTS OF HIS LIGHT.

YOU HOLD HIS HAT, HIS DRAWINGS, SO DAMN TIGHT!

‘CAUSE IF NOT YOU, THEN WHO ELSE MIGHT REMEMBER?

#transcript #daisy noxx #remington long #honorary perfectionist #Rupert morello #jay mazziotta #px11 #perfect times eleven #podcast #podcasts #musical #musicals

[kazosa]

Summary: Dean could see the writing on the wall and he knew what he needed to do. It was what he always did. He protected the ones he cared about, at all costs, and killed monsters. Only, this time, The End, he wasn’t sure he could protect the woman he loved.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, major regret, bad language, terrible choices

Word Count: 2963

Tags: @briagallen​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @squirrelnotsam​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @sorenmarie87​  @his-paradox​

A/N: the above banner was created by the amazingly talented @coffee-obsessed-writer​ She somehow manages to get in my head and see what I am thinking and puts it in an incredible piece of art for me. Many thanks, as usual!

Eight months had passed since the end and Dean hadn’t spent more than two nights in one place the whole time. It wasn’t that he had somewhere to be. In fact, the opposite was true. No one was looking for him, no one missed him. No one needed him. For the first time in his life, he was obligated to no one… and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Everywhere he went, someone, some place, some dirty back road to nowhere made him think of all the people he’d lost and he would need to move on. It was too hard. And, as much as it pained him to sell his car, it hurt far more to not see Sam sitting in the passenger seat. Instead, he roamed the roads on a motorcycle that looked like had been thrown together. He just needed it to go everywhere and get there fast. 

“Hey, pal, last call was twenty minutes ago,” the bartender reminded him.

“Right,” he downed the beer, “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” He stood up from his barstool, taking out his wallet throwing a few bills down on the bar, then grabbed his helmet, ready to leave. 

“You want me to call you an Uber?”

If Dean hadn’t become a functioning alcoholic, he might have thrown up at the thought. He didn’t do that hipster crap.

“Nope.”

“Can anyone come get you?” the bartender asked again. 

Dean kept walking, “nope.” The only thing he’d managed to do in eight months was become a meandering mess who reeked of some kind of booze, as he rode across the country verifying that everyone he ever loved or cared about had died. The end had been a massacre and he had been the only one to make it out alive. 

“You don’t know that,” the annoying voice at the back of his head chimed in.

Dean yanked his helmet on, his beard prickling against the chin guard. He pulled the scarf up around his neck and made sure the ends stayed tucked inside his leather jacket as he got on his motorcycle. There was one person who had been on his mind. One of the last ones he hadn’t yet checked up on, mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to know one way or the other… yet.

2008

“This place reeks of school,” he said under his breath. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Its a college library Dean.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. “You go do your nerd thing. I’m gonna see what the librarian knows.”

“I hope you’re going to change tactics,” Sam warned.

When Dean gave him a questioning look, he continued. “That ‘tutor’ line never works.”

“When you get more numbers than me, then you can judge,” he scoffed.

Dean still caught a hint of his disapproving look before he left him behind to go talk to the librarian. Unlike Sam, he’d scoped out the library the day before. He knew how to do homework, just not the kind that got good grades. He hoped the one he saw the day before would be working again.

As he rounded the corner, an older woman was behind the counter furiously shelving books to the return cart. She wasn’t the one he was hoping to see; he would have remembered seeing this one. She wore clothes from a few decades before, thick glasses on a chain, and though her hair hadn’t fully grayed, her hair was done in what he assumed was a beehive. 

He sidled up to the counter. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The woman let out an exasperated huff and slammed down the barcode scanner she was using to check in books. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned on the counter to look at her most recent annoyance.

“My name is Gloria, not sweetheart. What do you want?”

Dean cleared his throat and wondered why his obvious charms didn’t work. “Um, I’m looking for a tutor….”

“You really think I’m going to believe you’re a student? Honey, this isn’t my first day.” She unfolded her arms and stood back from the counter, her impatient look not changing. 

“Easy Glo, he’s one of mine,” she suddenly appeared; the one who’d caught his eye.

“You need to quit having your boyfriends come here,” Gloria chided.

The woman looked at her co-worker, “Mm quite right.” She turned to Dean. “Honey, how ‘bout you come down here?”

“Have a lot of boyfriends?” he followed her to the end of the counter. Finally, he saw the name on her tag. (Y/N).

“I you don’t strike me as the exclusive kind,” she teased. “How can I help you?”

I could be, he thought. “I need a tutor,” he leaned on the counter towards her. 

She leaned forward and put her hands on his. “Gloria is watching and I’m usually affectionate with boyfriends.” Her nail traced a line up his wrist making his skin tingle. “What are you really doing here?”

This was not all how he planned on having things go. “I, um, I’m looking…”

“If you’re a student here, I’ll eat my shirt,” she stayed perfectly in character with Gloria watching. “You’re here about that stuff with Jenny and Keith, aren’t you?”

“Just looking into what happened. Not buying what the papers and authorities are saying. Looking to get the truth.”

Somehow, she had a pen and was writing something on his hand. He would have looked at his hand, but he couldn’t draw his gaze from her.

“What’s your name, honey?” she looked him in the eye.

“D-Dean,” he stammered. “Dean Winchester.”

“Well, Dean, I’m off at four and we can talk then,” she said, rubbing the top of his hand. “Better get out of here before Glo turns you into Security.”

Dean sighed heavily as he started the motorcycle. (Y/N) had been a wild card right from the start. He’d been thinking about her a lot lately. She was the only person giving him hope. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, think of her as anything but alive, but what was he supposed to do? Live on blind faith that she was alive and well? He didn’t have faith in anything. Not after the End, except maybe her… of all people, of all hunters, she being alive would mean he wasn’t alone. And if anyone could cheat death, it was her.

Getting settled before he rolled out, he felt the weight of his gun and knife press against his torso. He knew how to get to Purgatory. In the last eight months it had become a more and more appealing option. Why not just go there and do the only thing he’d ever been good at? ‘Cause (Y|N) won’t be there,’ he answered his own question.

He could just wait for Billie to come get him, but for what? She was there… at The End… she’d said, “This ain’t in your book, honey” as he sat on the ground, covered in blood and screamed into the night at the sorrow and unfairness of it all. He still didn’t understand how living had been his fate…

2013

“Nope,” his heart hammered in his chest as he pulled her into his lap. He took (Y/N)’s hands and held them on her chest. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” In his head, he screamed for Cas to come. 

Sam held pressure on her leg and did the best he could on her abdomen. (Y/N) had been with them in some way for the last five years. She was a natural hunter and her knowledge of the supernatural had bailed them out of tough situations more than once.

“Deuce, c’mon. You gotta stay with me,” he used the nickname he’d thought up for her.

(Y/N) sighed and groaned at the same time. “Ungh, stop calling me Deuce, it sounds like shit.”

Dean looked at Sam, who tipped his head to the side in silent affirmation.

“...wild cards though,” he muttered.

“I don’t want… the last words I hear from you… to include… shit. Clearly… I’m the Ace in the Hole,” she said between labored breaths.

(Y/N) looked up at him and laughed. She went down hill at breakneck speed. Sam couldn’t keep enough pressure on her wounds, even with an extra hand from Dean…

He’d watched her slip away from him once and he didn’t want to do it again. Cas had come, but not in time to heal her before she died. 

“Please, Cas…”

Dean didn’t know if it was he who’d said it, or Sam. Either way, the angel reached out his hands, making (Y/N)’s wounds glow with his healing touch. She’d gasped awake and immediately clung to Dean. ‘Man, she held on tight,’ he thought. And so had he. At that moment, he knew he would never let that kind of harm come to her again.

Rolling on the throttle, the motorcycle carried Dean away from the bar and down the road…

2013

It had been a few months since it happened. Dean sat in the library. His chin resting on his hand on the table. With his other hand, he rolled the tumbler of whiskey between his thumb and middle finger. The light from the above pendant lighting penetrating the amber liquid in the crystal glass.

(Y/N) was in Sam’s room watching some nerd show, or something, and that left him alone to dwell in his thoughts. Nor did he care for the feeling of jealousy that had been rising in him, so he’d decided to have a drink about it.

“Hey,” (Y/N) said, walking into the room. 

Dean didn’t move from his spot at the table. He still looked at the whiskey in his glass and barely raised his hand in greeting. The whiskey had done its job warming his heart and… slightly… numbing his feelings.

(Y/N) pulled out the chair next to him. He rolled his head to the side, resting on his arm to look at her. He almost hated how much he loved her eyes. And he definitely didn’t hate how she was looking at him.

She put her hand on his arm and gave him a little squeeze. “Why’re you out here pouting?”

Called out again, he said what came to mind first. “I’m not pouting, you’re pouting.” Dammit.

“Yeah, okay. It’s funny how you still think I can’t read you like a book,” her voice was soft. She slid a hand down to his wrist, her thumb stroking his skin. It always seemed to tingle when she did that.

Grudgingly, and with more effort than he cared for, he managed to peel himself off the table to sit up. He wondered what she thought she could see written all over him.

He watched her as she stood up, forcing him to lean back a little in his chair. He never knew what she would do next and it both excited and scared the shit out of him, and not ever in a bad way.

Her hands, how he loved when she touched him, went to his face and hair. If he hadn’t already had the whiskey, he might feel drunk off her touch alone. She slowly leaned down further. (Y/N)’s lip touched his and he thought maybe he was dreaming. She kissed him like it had been something they did all the time. He fantasized on it plenty…

Before he knew it, she was gone and looking over her shoulder at him from the doorway, whiskey in hand.

“You coming?”

If he’d ever been drunk, he’d sobered in a hurry and followed her. What resulted was not just an amazing night of love making. It had also resulted in a relationship he hadn’t known she’d wanted… just as much as he had.

The chill of the night air cut through his thin layers. Most of the time, he just ignored it. He’d been through worse. He could withstand anything. He just didn’t know if he could stand living in a world without (Y/N) in it.

The ‘what ifs’ ran through his mind again. If he waited for whatever end was coming to him, there would still be no guarantee he would see her again. There was no way he could go on living in this world if she wasn’t in it…

2019

It was a quiet morning. Sam was somewhere with Eileen and that left him and (Y|N) with the bunker to themselves. These were the mornings that were his favorite. (Y|N) was tucked into his side, her arm draped across him. They didn’t have a case to work. They had nowhere to be. All they needed to do was lie in bed all day. 

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

Dean ran his hand over her arm across his chest, “Just about how lucky I am.”

“It’s true,” she kissed his jaw, “you are super lucky.”

Five years. He’d had the love of a good woman for five years. They were a great team. He had everything he ever wanted. Somehow they had managed to balance the hunter life and ‘normal’ life. They worked well together and played well together. 

“What’s the plan for today?” he asked.

“Staying in bed all day sounds good to me,” she answered. “Oh, hold on, I made you something.”

(Y|N) handed him a spiral bound book. Inside were pictures of the two of them, Sam and Eileen, Jody and Donna, Rowena… 

“It’s us. All of us,” she explained, “our story.”

It was mostly the two of them. They were in the bunker, road hotels, in Baby. She never asked him for more than what he could give, but he still found himself wanting to give her more. He wanted to live in a house, have a kid or two. He wanted more. A real life.

Dean kept the small scrapbook with him, always. He didn’t need to bring his father’s journal anymore, the End made sure of that. The journal came with him out of habit now. Dean brought the scrapbook because he needed it, more than he cared to admit. He needed to see their faces, to remember the good times, and to see her… 

Dean slowed the bike to a stop at a red light. Turning right, he would go to her house. To the left, he would take the road to nowhere. Going straight, he would forge ahead. 

The End was coming and, unlike so many times before, they had known it was coming. All Dean could see were all the things that were trying to kill them. He just wanted to make sure she was safe...

“I want you to leave.”

“What? Your room?”

“No, the bunker. I don’t want you here anymore.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re reckless and too unpredictable. You’re either going to get yourself killed or someone else and I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“No, that’s bullshit.”

It didn’t end there. The next day was more of the same, but he’d stood firm on his decision. Break it off clean, get her away and to safety.

“Just promise me you won’t keep hunting.”

“No.”

“Ace.”

“No. You’re being stupid. You know I can help and you know I won’t stop,” she was mad and near tears. “When this is over and you’re done being stupid, come find me. You love me, Dean.” She turned back before she got in her car. “You better not fucking die, ‘cause when this is over, and you come find me, I’ll kick your ass.”

His heart left that day when she tore down the dirt road that led away from the bunker. Maybe that was why he did the things he did at The End, showing no mercy… nothing but brute force brawling…

Dean turned right and continued on. Was he done being stupid? Probably not. What he did know was that the dumbest thing he ever did was force her out of his life and he needed to know, for sure, one way or another, if his life was worth continuing. 

For the first time, in a very long time, he had hope…

He knew where she used to live, it had been a few years since he’d seen her and… he just didn’t know… was she alive? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Married? Hunting? Normal job? If she was still alive, she’d be there.

It was late, the house was dark, too dark for anyone to be awake. He should give a damn that he was about to knock on the door and disturb the residents, but he didn’t. He waited long enough and needed to know… to see her face… to have hope again. He climbed the stairs, feeling lighter with each step he took. His heart raced as he stood at the wood door. gargoyle door knocker seemed to mock him as he stood there, unable to move.

“Shut up,” he grumbled as he grabbed the gargoyle and made it rap loudly, twice, on the door. Dean was about to try again when the porch light flicked on. His eyes rebelled at the sudden glare from above. He shaded his eyes, but didn’t look away from the gargoyle. The sound of the locks turning shifted his gaze to the door’s opening. Time slowed to a crawl. Dean swore he could hear the antique metal rotate as the person on the other side of the door turned the knob.

It all came down to this. Would she be there? Would she be the one to open the door? Would she be happy to see him? What if…

The door cracked open. His heart jumped in his throat as the porch light fell on the face inside.

“Hi.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn fan fiction #end of series fiction #Dean winchester x female reader #angst #the end #kazosa #sorry for that ending #not sorry at all actually #who do you think is on the other side of the door?

[catyo90]

Dante x Angel Reader: Dance

(Recommend listening to this when the singing starts.:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebAGgw1AsHc )

You were a little nervous about tonight seeing as it was probably the biggest moment in your life. A date with the legendary demon hunter, Dante Sparda. You had so many thoughts invade your mind. What to wear, how to act but mainly how to keep your secret safe. You hadn’t been entirely honest about your heritage. You were an angel, not to harm him or anything but definitely keep an eye out for the higher-ups. And now you were going on an actual date with him after knowing him for two years.

“Oh boy, how do I get into these situations?”

You said as you grabbed your phone of the bed seeing a message from Dante. It was a photo of him in a long jack jacket and a suit with a dark red dress shirt underneath and a red scarf around his neck with of course his signature smirk. You smiled at it and sent back a message.

“Who knew you could do formal?”

You put the phone down back onto the bed bringing your attention to two dresses you had picked. One was a simple black dress with the back having an intricate design showing small diamonds going down the back of it like starlight. The other one was a long white dress with the back open and a long slit down the left leg part. You really wanted to wear the white one but you definitely felt more comfortable with the black one on. You see there was one giveaway you were an angel. Along your back were faint gold wings etched into your skin. No human could see them but a demon, well that's a different story. 

You sighed until an idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a photo sending them to Lady, Trish, and Nico. You decided to wait as you looked at the clock seeing you had an hour until you needed to leave. You walked into the restroom preparing your makeup, gold eye shadow with a light amount of blush and a very faint nude color lipstick. 

You heard your phone buzz. All three of them agreed on the white one. You were kinda nervous as you quickly changed into it. You walked over to the dress mirror in the corner and smiled at how it looked. You turned around to see the marks on your back.

“Maybe a coat would work.”

You heard a knock on the door.

‘Coming!”

You grabbed a white coat to match the dress. You quickly looked back in the mirror and smiled at the sight and you gave a relieved sigh. You walked to the door and looked through the peek hole to see Dante waiting. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You opened the door to see him instantly look your way. His eyes widened at the sight. 

“Woah...You look beautiful.” He said as you offered him to come inside. There was still a bit of time until you needed to leave. 

“Sorry, I still need finish getting ready.” You said as you closed the door. You turned around to see Dante examining your home. 

“It’s nice this place. A bit too fancy for my taste but then again I have way stranger tastes.” 

“Well, I was given this place from an old friend.’ 

Probably best not to tell him it was from Gabriel the literal Archangel. You thought as you put on a white set of high heels. You saw Dante walk over to the small bar and looking a few drinks. You noticed he seemed a bit surprised.

‘Only Wine?”

“Not really a hard drinker.”

“White or Red?”

“White for me is sweeter but Red is probably best for tonight.”

He nodded his head as he picked up two small bottles of white and red wine. Pouring out two small glasses of each for both of you. You giggled as you tried getting a necklace around your neck, fumbling with the darn chain. You saw him walk over to you offering a hand. You looked at him placing the necklace in his hand as you stood up moving your hair out of the way. You felt the cold chain around your neck and quickly heard the click of the chain attached. You felt the faint trace of his fingers leave your neck making you shiver a bit.

“Thank you.”

You said as you rubbed the back of your neck looking at him over your shoulder. He simply smiled as he walked back over to the bar gently handing you the glass. He clinked his glass to yours as you both drank the wine. You felt your body relax a bit. He smiled as he took you glass letting you gather your things for the night.

After Dante had driven the car to the restaurant you noticed it was quite fancy. He parked the car with the valet offering you a hand out of the car. He offered you his arm which you took with a small smile on your face. Once inside you could see it had a dark room with a bar at the back with candles on every table. A few other couples were together with a band playing smooth jazz for the audience. You followed Dante to your table and sat down across from him. As you sat down you noticed the room was a bit warm, making you even more nervous that the coat was too odd to wear here. You removed it but noticed he couldn’t see the marks at this angle but you let your hair down a bit just in case.

As Dante sat down he removed the scarf and jacket and you couldn’t help but stare as the dress shirt he was wearing emphasized his refined neck and chest giving you a sneak peek. You quickly brought your attention to the menu as you tried to calm yourself down. You both looked over the menu ordering what you wanted and then were offered two glasses of old wine. You couldn’t help but wonder how Dante managed to arrange all of this. 

“Dante, You didn’t bribe someone for this date, did you?”

“Heh. No, I just called in a few favors.”

You sighed as you smiled at his response as you took a sip of your drink as he rubbed the back of his head. The night actual went off pretty well as Dante and you talked on and on both about the good and bad. You learned more about his family while he learned a bit more about your life before meeting him. After your meal arrived and the two of you finished Dante actually asked for a small dessert to share between the two of you. Suddenly you heard a small bit of clapping as a woman walked up onto the stage wearing a red dress and a pair of long white gloves with black hair walked up to the microphone and spoke.

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, Tonight is a special night. A night clouded in love and bliss. I welcome any who wish to come dance as we sway this moment into a night you will never forget.”

The band played as a small beat and a bit of Spanish guitar as they began to play a beautiful song. Dante looked over to you without you noticing him with his eyes completely entranced on you. Dante stood up offering you a hand onto the dance floor. You started to blush as you slowly took his hand. The woman started singing quite beautifully with a faint Spanish accent roll off her words.

He brought you to the center of the dancefloor where other coupled had joined in. He brought a hand around your waist as he took his other hand in yours as you placed your other hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat under your hand, steady and strong. He spun you in place bringing you even closer to him than before, your eyes focused entirely on him feeling your legs move effortlessly. Your feet moved in synch with his as he gently dipped you holding you close as not to let you go. You felt your body heat grow as his hands gazed against yours, almost teasing you. He brought you up and spun you around so you were facing away from him with your back to his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the sudden action. You felt him move a hand to your chest holding your hand as he breathed in the gentle scent on your skin. He spun you back to face him. His expression slightly more serious but still focused entirely on her and now.

“You should have told me.”

“Told you what?”

You felt his hand gaze against your back making the marks ever so lightly glow. You gave a shocked look as you had forgotten about the marks. You tried to let go of his hand but he made sure to keep you by his side.

“That your an Angel.”

You looked down in defeat. Now that he knew there was no way he would date you. He was half-demon and you had seen the way he was around other women. You knew an angel and a demon couldn’t work, if anyone knew that he did. But you wanted him so bad. It wasn’t fair how fate made you this way. Suddenly you felt him once more spin you away still holding your hand bring you back to him with your back to him. You felt him gently trace the marks with one hand leading to your neck making you shiver underneath his touch. You felt a gentle kiss to your neck and then to your temple. You gasped at the sudden reaction he gave you.

“Dante?.” 

He said nothing for a while as he turned you back to face taking a hold of you still dancing, both your bodies fitting perfectly together as you kept up with the beat of the music. Dante didn’t say anything.

He brought you close to him in the first position from the start of the dance. The music started to drift off for both of you as you placed a hand to his cheek. He smiled giving you a gentle kiss on the lips. You chuckled a bit as you placed your head against his chest feeling him place his chin atop your head. 

As the music trailed off you felt Dante move his head back walking back over to the table and offering your coat as he quickly grabbed yours. The two of you left the restaurant to see it raining as the valet brought the car around.

-

You both returned to your apartment, both of you were silent as you walked inside. The apartment was quite warm and very welcoming apart from the cold outside. You closed the door and locked it, as you turned around you saw Dante towering over you with one hand on the door next to your shoulder. 

‘Dante?”

Without saying a word he brought a much more passionate kiss to your lips bringing a gentle hand into your hair as his other hand pulled you closer to him. You gripped onto his shirt tightly clinging to him as if he would disappear. Both of you moved only enough to catch your breath. Dante started to breathe heavily.

“I don’t care Y/n...I don’t want to lose the one woman I ever loved just because you old folks who don't approve. I know what your mind is thinking... I don’t want anyone else. Only you.”

He kissed you again.

“I love you.”

You said nothing for a few moments, you looked up at him bringing your lips a bit closer to his. You whispered.

“Dante...say it again.”

He smirked as he whispered one more time.

“I love you.”

He brought another passionate kiss but this time you clung to it like your life depended on it. Deepening the kiss as your hands got lost in his hair as you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist and your back. Your marks glowed as you heard a small growl from Dante. The sound of the rain drained out throughout the rest of the night, for the first time in centuries, no demon nor angel fought. 

#dante x reader #dante sparda #devil may cry #devil may cry dante #requested #requests open #fanfic #sway #romance #enjoy #hope you enjoy #dmc5 #dmc5 dante #jazz #gif #dante son of sparda #catyo90

[pellicano-sanguino]

Today I went to see a play that’s based on the Little Vampire books by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg. I know, it’s embarrassing for an adult to go see a play for children, but I have a strong nostalgic connection to these books. They introduced me to the concept of vampires and got me hooked on the genre. So, here are some random thoughts about the play.

I should probably say a word or two about the books first. The first book came out during the 80s and after re-reading it a while ago, I must admit some parts of it haven’t aged that well (also, I’m no longer the intended target audience). I will give Sommer-Bodenburg credit for not watering down her vampires into child friendly versions. There are a lot of childrens’ vampire fiction where they clearly just wanted the aesthetics of vampires, not the actual brutal reality of vampirism like blood drinking and, you know, the whole being undead thing. Angela Sommer-Bodenburg doesn’t pussyfoot around the creepier aspects of vampire culture. Her vampires drink blood (except Anna, who hasn’t grown her fangs yet), and they talk about their deaths quite frankly and openly, including that they were turned by their own family members. 

The basic premise is a small boy named Anton befriending some vampire children and them trying to hang out with each other while keeping it secret from each other’s families. The play is based on the first book of the series and I think it’s a pretty decent and quite faithful adaptation. They’ve changed some things, but not much and the plot follows the book accurately.

Not gonna lie, the actor playing Anton was really wooden and fake, like a cardboard cutout. That’s the problem of having grown adults play small children. I know theater is all about suspending your disbelief (like in Takarazuka, believing that the clearly female otokoyaku are in fact male on the stage), but somehow I just have trouble buying Anton’s performance. Doesn’t help that he speaks in a very formal version of Finnish that no child speaks in real life. He tries so hard to make his voice and body language appear childlike, but it’s just not working. 

Rydiger on the other hand is fantastic. He’s quite different than the Rydiger from the books, but I don’t mind. In the books, Rydiger was my least favourite of the vampire children but here he is the best one of them and the best actor in the whole play. Instead of being a bratty, insufferable gremlin, he has elegant mannerisms, pleasant voice and he’s the most reasonable and caring of the vampire siblings. It’s not book accurate, but I approve. I especially like how this Rydiger talks and uses his body language. Unlike Anton, who shouldn’t be speaking in formal Finnish, Rydiger was raised over a hundred years ago and so was taught different kinds of speech and manners. He really comes off like a creature from another time. I love his little hand gestures, and his costume is so stylish and much more nice looking than the ragged gremlin-Rydiger from the books. Despite his adult-like mannerisms, Rydiger still acts like a child, much more accurately than Anton.

I fail to see what this cooler version of Rydiger sees in the boring, wooden block that is Anton. I totally see what Anton sees in Rydiger, who wouldn’t want a stylish little vampire friend. In the books I criticized Anton’s reasons for keeping up his friendship with Rydiger. In the books, Rydiger was a rude little shit, constantly making fun of Anton, stealing his books and being generally a real jerk. I thought, that if Rydiger wasn’t a vampire, Anton would never put up with such a lousy friend. Anton only tolerated Rydiger’s bullshit because he was a vampire and having a vampire friend was cool. Kids, don’t keep up friendships with people just because you like what they are, the more important thing is who they are. Anyway, in the play I can more easily buy their friendship (yes, Rydiger gets his moments of being a jerkface, but not nearly as badly as in the books). The scene where Rydiger teaches Anton how to fly was very adorable. And because the child characters were being played by grown adults, also kinda...  romantic?

“I’m flying, Jack! I’m flying!”

Anton’s parents were your token Normal People (TM) of the show. Both in the play and in the book they make fun of Anton’s interest in vampires, especially his mother (I swear, Angela Sommer-Bodenburg must have had some mother issues). It’s very sad to see parents mock the interests of their child. I know the feeling, it’s one of the reasons I always place the books I read down cover first so that no one can read the cover and call me stupid for liking a book like that. I’m so conditioned to do this, I do it even when I’m all alone at home. Do not mock your childrens’ interests, people, it will have long lasting effects. 

For whatever reason they changed Geiermeier the vampire hunter’s name to...  I don’t quite remember, Kalmankulma or something similar. Anton’s surname was changed to a Finnish name too, and they’ve updated the story to modern times, since they talk about euros instead of marks. But Anton’s family still has a corded phone, and Anna could call them from a phone booth. It’s weird they updated some parts but also kept some things that have become obsolete tech since the 80s. 

Man, did they fuck up Anna. I hated the look they gave her. What is up with that white, poofy hair, she looks like an old granny, not a five or six year old little girl. And why is her dress so short, we do not need to see her legs all the way up. Ugh, and how they failed with her character. Everything good that I said about Rydiger they must have cut off from book-Anna. In the book, Anna is the kindest, smartest and most humane of all the vampire children. The boys are selfish assholes who treat Anton like a fun toy, but Anna actually genuinely cares about the feelings of their human friend. She is also a strong independent young lady who has a fiery temper and will not tolerate any sass from her mean spirited brothers. Her only downside is that she’s a victim of a really annoying childrens’ book trope, namely that whenever there’s another female character around she becomes jealous of Anton and is unnecessarily rude to the other girls. I get it, kids can be bratty and jealous, but can we please stop teaching little girls the stupid lie that all girls are each others’ enemies and must fight for the attention of boys. For fuck’s sake, let girls be friends with each other, thinking they can only be friends with boys is ridiculous and misogynistic!

Well, Anna of the play is not smart, caring or strong (unless you count annoying, noisy hissy fits as strength, I guess). She has turned into a brainless diva, who simultaneously is smitten by Anton and also doesn’t care what he has to say about anything. Why would you do this to my favourite character!? In the books there were some really heartfelt scenes between Anna and Anton. Like, when Anna proposes the idea that when she gets her fangs she could bite Anton and turn him so that they could be friends forever, and Anton makes it very clear that he has no intention of ever becoming a vampire. This saddens Anna, because it means that Anton will grow to be an adult but Anna and her siblings will forever remain children, with no one to play with. These two must come to an understanding that while they like each other very much, they belong in two different worlds and they must accept that it means they will one day have to say goodbye. All things come to an end, it’s only a matter of when and how. So, why wasn’t a meaningful scene like that in the play?

Finally, we have Lumpi (whose name was changed to Leo in the play). I think he was fine, maybe suffering from a tiny bit of overacting, but still an ok performance. He doesn’t get much screentime, because in the first book we don’t get to see him much. Which is a shame because he is my favourite right after Anna. 

If you thought Claudia from Interview with the Vampire was the most tragic of all child vampires, then clearly, you have not met Lumpi von Schlotterstein. He was turned right in the middle of going through puberty. And so, he is doomed for all eternity to suffer from acne, breaking voice and mood swings. Truly, a lamentable fate is his.

Adding Lumpi to the vampire children friending Anton added a lot of dramatic tension to the group. Because of his mood swings, Lumpi was unpredictable and sometimes even downright threatening. Out of all the vampire kids, he had the least control over his vampire instincts and there were several moments where he considered drinking Anton. So scenes with him could be really intense. Also, he was supposed to be the vain kid with style, being especially proud of his long, sharp fingernails that he cared and filed constantly. They took his style and gave it to Rydiger, they took his vanity and gave it to Anna. Well, he still had a nice, red shirt that went well together with his white scarf and black cape.

Rydiger’s grandmother Sabine also makes an appearance. Strange that they added Sabine and not aunt Dorothee, who was the most dangerous, most blood thirsty of all the von Schlotterstein vampires. In the books Dorothee is the one the kids need to look out for whenever Anton’s visiting their home in the graveyard. There’s a scene where Anton has to hide in Rydiger’s coffin because of her and in the play they do the scene with Sabine. Well, maybe they thought any old vampire lady will do. Also they clearly wanted her to be more comedic relief character, not a threatening, blood drinking monster. Just like Dorothee in the book, Sabine commands Rydiger to go back to sleep and he has to cram himself into his coffin with Anton still there. Once Sabine’s gone, the boys get out and sigh in relief, and Lumpi comments “Well, did you take advantage of the opportunity, brother?” Look, I know he means blood drinking, but these kids being played by adults I can’t help but think about gay vampires sharing a coffin. Doesn’t help that Rydiger replies with a disgusted “Of course not! I’m not like you!” Which enrages Lumpi, because “W-w-what are you implying!?” I’m sorry, my mind is in the gutter, but I can’t help it. Carmilla and Anne Rice have made me see lesbian and gay vampires everywhere.

Well, for a small budget childrens’ play, it was a fun show. Wished they hadn’t changed some of the characters so drastically, but overall it was pretty book accurate, which was a relief (I was worried they were going to make a story of their own and just use the characters’ names, like that awful movie version). A nice nostalgic visit back to the first vampire books I ever read.

#vampire #theater #little vampire #angela sommer-bodenburg

[katehuntington]

How You & I Will Be - part five (finale)

Fandom: Supernatural Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader Serie summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Part 5 warnings: angst, severe anxiety, nightmares, hallucinations, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death. Some fluff. Music: ‘Lullabye’ by Billy Joel Word Count: 2154 words Author’s note: This is it, folks. The end of my mini series, and what a pleasure it was. Thank you @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier for helping we work on this, you both are wonderful betas. Fair warning when you proceed: I managed to move them both to tears. @littlegreenplasticsoldier even made clear that I will have to hire someone to do my obit at my funeral, because I will have no friends left after this.

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

     It turns out Y/N has a little more time on her side than they initially thought. Not that she will be able to remember much, since she laid in Dean’s arms unconscious most of the time, but somehow the huntress has made it till sunrise. Despite her brave attempt, her condition deteriorates with every minute that passes. During the hallucinations, Dean pulled her into his lap, holding the girl he loves with everything he’s got, like he would comfort an infant. The acid trip-like dreams had her in confusion and all he could do to sooth her, cradling her gently, whispering sweet words and promises.

     The nightmares seem to have passed now, setting in a new stage that is just as ominous. She has been unresponsive for quite a while, as if she has drifted off into a coma. It feels as if she’s slipping through his fingers like desert sand and there’s nothing he can do about it. Sometimes it takes over twenty seconds for her to breathe in again, which is only a weak gasp for air. Between those inhales Dean keeps her close to his chest, begging silently for her to take another breath, to stay a little longer.

     Red ashes have turned into grey charcoal overnight, causing the temperature in the cabin to drop. Now Dean’s leather jacket is the only item that can provide her some warmth; even if there were wood left, he wouldn’t let her go to restart the fire. The storm has passed quickly and it wouldn’t surprise Dean if it was the work of that witch that owed Bobby. The rescue-team was supposed to start their climb at the break of dawn; they are probably well on their way, now that the first rays of sun peek over the ridge, watercoloring the sky with pink and purple. The mountaintop of Glacier Peak is outlined with gold that glows ever brighter as the sun comes up. It’s a beautiful sight, one that Dean enjoys intently, aware that these will be the final moments he’ll have with his girl. 

     When the sunshine spreads a warmth in the cabin, illuminating the fibers of dust that float in the air surrounding them, Y/N opens her eyes slightly without Dean noticing it. The scenery outside captivates her. The view looks more like a painting from Leonid Afremov than it would seem like reality, and for a second she wonders if she’s hallucinating again. But when she observes Dean, who admires the spectacular scenery as well, she guesses it’s nature’s way of saying goodbye.

    “Well…” she rustles, words coming out raspy. “If that isn’t the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen….”

     Stunned, Dean looks down at her. He honestly didn’t expect her to ever open her eyes again, but here she is. A moment of clarity. God, it’s nice to hear the sound of her voice again, despite it not being more than a weak whisper.      “Hey, you,” he returns, smiling down.      She smiles back, glad to be able to gaze up into those depthless green eyes once more. He lovingly strokes some wayward hair from her forehead, and places a tender kiss on her skin. Embracing the moment, she closes her eyes and sighs as her grin reaches wider. When he pulls back and witnesses the satisfied expression on her face, he suddenly notices the difference; she’s made peace with her fate. It scares him deeply, he isn’t anywhere close to prepared for her coming death.      “You wouldn’t be able to squeeze out a few more hours by any chance?” he pleads. “The rescue workers are on their way.”      For a moment she opens her eyes again, clearly worn out by the fight for life. She swallows with difficulty and lets the air escape from her lips, finding it harder to inhale every time she does so.      “I’m so tired, Dean….”      Her voice fails, but he heard her. The hunter nods slowly, accepting the true message behind her words. The fight is over. She’s lowered her weapons. With difficulty, he gulps, trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. After all, he has to be strong for her. 

     But she’s no fool; she can see right through it. Y/N knows how hurt he is, how he’s trying so hard to prevent himself from caving. She might be okay with the fact that her hour has struck, he can’t say the same. The thought of letting her go causes the tears to pool in his eyes.      “Hey… It’s alright,” she tries to comfort him.      He scoffs, amazed by her urge to care for him, even now.      He manages a quivering breath. “I should be telling you that.”      “I’m not the one who’s about to be left behind, am I?” she reminds him.

     It’s a solid point. Who knows where she might drift off to. Heaven, the light, whatever one would want to believe. Dean will remain right here, on this spot of land without her.      “What do you think is gonna happen next?” he wonders out loud. “Lights out and that’s it?”      “Hell, no,” she chuckles, having found a little more spirit to strengthen her words. “It’s gonna be either Vegas or Hawaii. I haven’t decided yet.”      Dean scoffs through the tears, imagining it for a moment. He hopes she’s right, it makes the idea of dying a little less terrifying.      “Maybe my heaven will be driving down the road towards the sunset in the Impala, backseat to myself…” she continues on a serious note. “Maybe it’s this, this moment right here with you. This view.”

     Dean follows her thousand-yard stare through the window that portrays the colorful picture outside. As the sun rises further, it casts an golden light over the snowy mountains, and Y/N takes a moment to count her blessings. Sure, she wishes she would’ve had more time, but it isn’t the worse way to go. The man she gave her heart to is holding her close and they got the chance to spend their final moments together. The man who told her: I love you. The man she told: I love you, too. It’s not that bad, actually.      “Promise me something?”      He turns to face her again, waiting for a follow up.      Trying to speak, her voice hitches in her throat as breathing becomes more difficult. Her fragile state indicates it won’t take long now. “Promise you’ll let your friends and family help you. Promise you’ll talk to Sam. Don’t bottle it up this time, okay?”      The pressure on Dean’s chest becomes so heavy that his airway constricts. He is able to keep a hold of her questioning gaze, though.      “I promise,” he assures, choking up.      “And no deals,” she continues. “I know you’ve been thinking it.”      “Y/N -”      But she won’t have it and interrupts his attempt to object instantly.  “No, Dean. I don’t want you to get torn up by those hounds. If you make a deal, you’ll go to hell,” she pauses to catch her breath. “And where I’m going… It’s not a bad place.”      Dean sighs after a moment’s consideration, trying to blink away his tears as he admits to her conditions with a nod. “Alright.”

     She smiles slightly, glad to have his word and relieved that she got the message across. It remains quiet for a couple of minutes as her respiration slows down even further, taking down her pulse as well. Scared, Dean holds his love, watching her subside, further and further away from him.      “Dean?”      His name is barely audible, it’s more of a breath than her voice.      “Yeah?”      She forces her eyes open, taking in the hunter above her. For the first time since last night, tears stain her beautiful eyes. Dean knows exactly what she’s trying to capture, because he’s trying to accomplish the same. He takes her in, every feature, every perfect flaw. A few lost birthmarks that decorate her face and neck. That scar on her chin that she always tries to cover up with a scarf or the collar of her jacket. The slight frizz in the lock of hair that she cusses about whenever it’s rainy or windy. And damn, those eyes, those gorgeous eyes.      “I-I think it’s time….” she stammers weak.

     She’s might be okay with dying, that doesn’t mean that she isn’t scared of what lays ahead. Of course she’s terrified, who wouldn’t be scared of the unknown? Vampires, ghosts, demons; she faced them all. But with every single monster she came across, she knew a way to defeat them. Never, ever, did she show up for a fight unprepared. At the verge of battle she was armed with a weapon of choice, if it was silver, salt, dead man’s blood or the Colt. She knew her opponent, she did her research, she read the lore. But she can fantasize about casinos or white sandy beaches all she wants, the truth is that nothing can prepare anyone for what awaits on the other side.      “It’s alright, Y/N. I’ve got you,” Dean comforts, pulling her even closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”      She cries against his chest silently, wheezing every time she tries to inhale. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest as hers will stop any moment now.      “Y-you know what my mom’s favorite song was… to sing to me?” she whispers, referring to their talk days ago, about music and songs sang by their mothers. “It was Lullabye... Billy Joel… She always sang Lullabye.”      “It’s a good song,” Dean gets out with difficulty.      “It is,” you smile into his shirt, before she softly whispers the first lines.

     Goodnight, my angel      Time to close your eyes      And save these questions for another day

     Dean joins in with her, cradling his dying girl to the rhythm of the song. The melody somehow makes it easier to pronounce the words.

     I think I know what you've been asking me      I think you know what I've been trying to say      I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know      Wherever you may go, no matter where you are      I never will be far away

     She lets Dean take over the vocals completely, listening to his emotional yet clear voice. It hushes her into a deep sleep from which she will never wake again. Slowly Y/N sinks further into the depths of unconsciousness. But she can still hear him, she can still hear Dean. Scientists have proved that the sense of hearing is the last one to perish when a person dies. Seems like they are right.

     Goodnight, my angel      Now it's time to sleep      And still so many things I want to say      Remember all the songs you sang for me      When we went…

     He stops mid-sentence, waiting for some kind of response from Y/N. A flinch, her chest rising, anything. But nothing happens. There’s no cloud of humid air coming from her lips, even the drum in her chest has stopped playing. When he lifts his chin off her head and loosens his grip on the woman in his arms slightly, he is able to behold the blank expression on her pretty face, eyes slightly opened, but her soul is gone.

     “Y/N…?”

     Shocked he stares at her as a lump obstructs his throat. A hole in his stomach grows larger when the harsh reality replaces his denial. Dean can’t prevent the tears from building up in his eyes and so he looks up, hoping that they won’t fall down, but they fall anyway. Unable to cope with the avalanche of sorrow that hits him like a freight train, his bottom lip starts to quiver and slowly he begins to move back and forth, mourning, as he presses her lifeless body against his.

     He lost her. For a few moments she was his and now he’s lost her. He whispers her name in her hair, tells her he loves her once more and then again. God, he would give anything to see her react to those words, by throwing him that amazing smile.      Softly he continues to sing the song. The earth turns and the sun shines its light on the both of them. His voice is shaking so badly that he has trouble getting anything out at all. Being able to hold and cradle her helps, and so he sets off again where her death caused him to pauze.

     Remember all the songs you sang for me      When we went sailing on an emerald bay      And like a boat out on the ocean      I'm rocking you to sleep      The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart      You'll always be a part of me

     Someday we'll all be gone      But lullabies go on and on      They never die      That's how you and I will be

The end, people. Thank you so much for reading my story. I appreciate every single one of you. If you would like to talk about this or if you need a grief-counselor, let me know. Feedback is very much appreciated.

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#How You And I Will Be #Dean x Reader #Dean x Reader series #Reader x Dean #Dean Winchester x reader #Reader x Dean Winchester #SPN fanfiction #SPN fanfic #SPN reader insert #Supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural reader insert #Dean Winchester fanfic #Dean fanfic #Sam fanfic #Sam Winchester fanfic #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean fanfiction #Sam fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean angst #Dean fluff #Sam angst #SPN angst #Supernatural angst #HYAIWB #How You And I Will Be 5 #Kate Huntington #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester

[grailacademy]

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Twenty-four: Little Secrets

Hari watched out the window of a cafe on the street corner. He was wrapped in a parka, sipping on a warm cup of coffee. Atlas was indeed cold. He didn’t like big cities, they were always so crowded. Too many people, he could barely move. Buildings were too tall, there was no way to be able to see the sky, day or night. The only reason he tolerated Calicem was because, while there were plenty of skyscrapers and towering office buildings, the population was barely 300,000. Everyone left him alone, nobody bumped elbows with him, the idea of personal space actually meant something. Here, the people were loud and obnoxious, and cheap. So, so cheap. Even though they were all rich, upper-class elites, somehow Atlas garnered the reputation for being one of the stingiest places in Remnant. Hari was glad he would only be here for a day.

An old woman pulled the hood of her coat up once she stepped outside her house across the street. She used her scarf to shield herself from the cold as she walked down the block towards a series of shops. Hari saw. He stood up, finished his coffee, and headed out the door.

It wasn’t hard to pick the lock. Despite the cutting-edge Atlesian technology that was installed around every corner, this house seemed to be the only modest building on the street. It was tilted to one side since it had been constructed on an incline, painted a dull sky blue with wood paneling along the exterior. When Hari entered, the house was dark. A layer of smoke settled around the entire building, meeting him at his waist. The windows were open, which helped clear out the smoke. He could smell something burning. Past the living room was a humble kitchen, a bunny hutch by the wall, a stove in the corner, a square dining table with two chairs in the center of the room. The smoke was thickest here, wafting up from a skillet full of burnt and charred remains of what he could only assume was some kind of omelette. Hari flung the cabinet doors to the bunny hutch open, rummaging through it to find anything of importance. He scoured the entire house, being careful to put everything back the way he found it afterwards.

The attic was cramped, with ceilings so low that Hari had to hunch over, lest he hit his head. Dusty cardboard boxes littered the space, and furniture with faded white sheets draped over them that gave the appearance of vague ghosts and spectres. He found a crate full of old issues of The Blue Inferno, a closet that housed a wedding dress with a plastic cover over its hanger, toys that were most likely stored here once the child had grown out of them, and a box of VHS tapes and photo slides. Hari brushed dust off the tapes, reading the labels written in marker on the sides. They were all regular home movies, a baby’s first steps, someone blowing out candles on their birthday, a school musical, a child opening his holiday presents, a science fair, a vacation at the beach, a wedding.  The photo slides were inky and smudged from weathering, but the images were clear enough to tell that they were family photos. A rolled up packet of papers, crinkled and stapled together, rested at the bottom of the box. This was what intrigued Hari the most. It was an old police report, it had photographs attached to its corner. He snatched one of the tapes, a handful of photo slides, and the police report, and stuffed them all into his parka. Hari thought for a long time about cleaning the skillet sitting on the stove with the burnt gunk slowly crusting and sticking to it as he walked past the kitchen. He closed the front door behind him, reversed his handiwork and locked it, and fled the scene.

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

The clocktower struck 3 o’clock in the morning when the remainder of EBNY returned to the campus of their school. They tried to be as quiet as possible when they snuck around the corner of the academy entrance and used the foliage of bushes and trees dotting the landscape to hide their shapes. If there were teachers out patrolling during the curfew, they didn’t want to get caught. Soil, now hard and ridged from snow that froze into an icy layer on top of it, crunched under their shoes. The world was different at night, quiet, intense. It made it easy for Esmerelda to notice the shouting in the distance. They were about to sneak back into the dorm building when she heard the yelling. At first, they thought it was because someone had caught them after curfew, and Nico moved faster to pick the dorm hall lock. But nobody was chasing after them, there were no signs of flashlights bouncing from the ground to the walls that gave the impression of running. On the other side of the campus, past the building where any of them could see, Kismet and Pearl were facing off against a trio of much more dangerous trespassers.

“Hands where I can see them!” Kismet roared, his eyes falling on the figure of a woman, well-dressed and hair tied back in a bun, her back turned to him while she worked on something faceted to the door of the clocktower. The butt of his musket rested firmly under his arm, the barrel aimed and ready. The woman did not acknowledge him. She simply waved a hand, sighing out “Take care of them.”

From beyond the shadows stepped Aurum, who cracked his knuckles. Pearl readied herself for a fight, just as Kismet was doing the same. Without warning, Aurum charged forward and swung a heavy right hook into Kismet’s side, a hearty smile on his face. He relished the feeling of his brass knuckles connecting with a worthy opponent, but it seemed tonight was not that night. The professor slid across the academy’s lawn, only stopping himself from falling over completely when he cocked his weapon and fired a shot in the enemy’s direction. It nicked Aurum on the shoulder, and before he had time to react, Pearl was on him.

An alien object quickly spun through the air to imbed itself in the ground, dangerously close to Aurum’s feet and...other regions as it struck down right between his legs. It was about a yard high, the size and shape of a small hula hoop ring, and made of gold. The razor-sharp portion of the chakram was (thankfully) hidden mostly in the snow, but the exposed handle portion of it showed an elaborate pattern of a twisting vine with fairies plucking flowers off it. Pearl glowered at the man, tapping another chakram against her hip. Aurum laughed, tugging the chakram out and tossing it back to her. “Oh, please. Hit me with your best shot!”

Kismet sprinted, gun at the ready. Lolanthe was his target, her figure clear in the moonlight. As the snow settled, he spun the musket around and jabbed the butt into the back of her head. But, instead of collapsing, falling forward, or even reacting to the attack, Lolanthe stood perfectly still. As she did, Kismet watched in horror as the butt of his weapon slowly absorbed into her head. Her body was glossy, and slowly deforming itself, almost as if it was melting around the gun. “Ugh!” He let go of his musket as Lolanthe dripped down into a puddle of hot wax. “What is…” He grumbled, turned around, finding Lolanthe standing a few yards behind him. She pulled a pair of candlesticks from her dress pockets, setting them neatly in the snow upright. It was an odd sight, to be sure. But, the symbols she made with her hands, twisting her fingers through the air, were almost hypnotic. The candles slowly grew and rose, writhing until they matched her height and shape. Even the puddle of wax that his gun was trapped in, moved in the same way. In a few seconds, Kismet was surrounded by four Lolanthes.

The moment Pearl launched off in his direction, Aurum lazily leaned to his right to avoid the blade, and raised his arm just in time for his fist to go straight through the middle of the ring. Then it was just a simple matter of twisting his wrist and turning the chakram to spin the weapon out of Pearl’s hand and letting it topple to the ground. Once her chakram was out of the way, Aurum twirled around on his left heel and knocked her in the back of the neck with his elbow in an attempt to throw her off balance. Pearl ducked down and swept her leg into the man’s shin, toppling him. After that, her attention turned to the chakram that lay dormant in the snow.

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

Yorick flipped through an old comic as he sat anxiously on the loveseat in what most considered to be Sable’s office. She had many dens to hide away in on the property, the smoke stacks, the freezer, the observation deck. But she was nowhere to be seen tonight. Yorick took it as a sign that this was a night off from his training, but it didn’t calm him down. The comic he held in his hands was one familiar with him, the series that had launched because of his grandmother’s work as a hunter. He was always fond of the Blue Inferno comics, but it did not cause him the relaxation or rest that it usually did. He read the words on each page, but his mind did not process the dialogue. His brain was too busy screaming at him that something was wrong, and because he couldn’t comprehend what the problem was, the logical conclusion to make was, of course, that the world was ending and this internal panic attack was the universe giving him one final warning. But again, there was the question of what exactly that warning was meant to be.

He had been feeling like this more often ever since that fateful night at the hotel. Something bad was happening. The voice in the back of his head was screeching at him, telling him that there was no future, that he was a fool for sitting idly by with a stupid comic book, just waiting for the end, like a blind sheep. He knew this was not the case, but his anxiety never relented. The voice was especially active tonight, though. The images of a powerful and charismatic caped heroine saving the day, stories that once brought him solace and nostalgia, did nothing but torment him. Yorick stood and made his way to a small opening between two sheets of paper on the wall, where the window was exposed. He watched the floor manager, with his combover and potbelly, packed up his things and left for the night. Rettah and Scarlet gossiped with one another by one of the garage entrances, and Queenie paced back and forth with her hands folded behind her. The door to the office suddenly opened, with Sable and Hari on the other side. Hari held a cardboard box under his arm. “We have a surprise for you.”

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

Three students cautiously peered around the corner of a building, to see their mentors under siege. Kismet, already small in stature, and therefore easily susceptible to attack, was immobilized by a prison of waxen maidens, whose bodies melted around his and hardened so that all that could be seen was half of his face, and part of his arm reaching upwards towards the sky, his hand grasping for escape. Pearl grimaced as Aurum lifted her up, both chakrams were yards away hidden in the snow. His hands gripping her wrists, his arm span made it easy to pull her off the ground and restrain her, like a crucifixion.

“You know, this seems really out of our league, so I’m just going to go....” Nico whispered and started to back away, but Esmerelda reeled him back in by tugging on the lapel of his jacket.

“We may not have our weapons,” She hissed, “But this is still our school. We have to help.” Bernard nodded with a grunt, and rose to his feet. Esmerelda and Nico followed suit, but the group’s confidence didn’t last long, for only seconds later, a shroud of darkness consumed their figures. A shadow that blocked out the light of the moon, darkening where they stood. None of them wanted to turn around, every instinct they had were telling them to run, keep running, and never look back. And yet, damned by their duties as hunters, they turned. The mountainous man, whose features were too hidden in the umbrage cast by the hood of his boarskin cloak to give the children any idea of who he could be, flared his nostrils as he loomed over them.

Esmerelda, Bernard, and Nico were thrown across the campus quad with one swift movement of the man’s arm, leaving them to land at Lolanthe’s feet. “Ah, I see you’ve found some unwelcome guests” said Lolanthe, irritated. The man lumbered towards them and mumbled in a low, gravely voice, “More meat.” The comment made Aurum laugh.

But the voice. That tone. Those words. There was a familiarity to them, something that Nico recognized. Nico slowly turned his head around to get a clear view of their attacker, sharing an expression that read shock and excitement. Before Esmerelda was dragged off by Aurum via the back of her coat, before Bernard was pinned down by Lolanthe’s wax copies, and before Nico was clocked in the jaw by the herculean man’s right hook, he squealed out one phrase with glee, “Blitzkrieg Butcher!?”

#rwby #rwby oc #team ebny #ebny #grail #grail academy #welcome to grail academy #rwby oc team #rwby fan team #rwby fanteam #oc #writing #punk #nico #esmerelda #bernard #yorick #fanfic #fanfiction #rwby fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby oc fanfic #rwby oc fanfiction #oc fanfic #oc fanfiction #violence

[artistrashofmine]

Carn

BNHA fic inspired by Jeff Le Bars Carn

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782935

The red scarf, and heavy jacket did nothing to deter the harsh wind that blew fresh snow off the hills, blending with the flakes that rained down on the child, like pins and needles. His boots sinking violently into the layers with a crack as the hardened sheets split under the leather. It took all his might to keep on balance, to keep his nose tucked towards his chest, to keep the involuntary tears out of his eyes in fear of them freezing on his pale cheeks. 

Why’d he have to come out here? Each step drained a year’s worth of his energy. He had to decide now was the best time to leave? He could barely make out the shadows of his surroundings. He ran away, and now he’s lost, was the child good for nothing after all? The rigid trees, the mountains, they were nothing but shadows peeking out through the shower of snow. 

“No,” the meek complaint was lost in the wind, so was the scarf, the only thing keeping his face from frostbite, even the elements were against him.

He wanted to sob, he wanted to go home, to his mom’s arms and cry. He didn’t even know the way back, where did he come from? There was holes from where he sank down to his ankles, but he couldn’t see.

And his gloves did nothing to break his fall, sinking into the snow just as his feet had done, just as his knees did. The icy substance finding its way up his sleeve, dancing along his wrist. He found his head to follow, resting against his fate, his doom. He was going to die here, die like this. Shivering in the freezing blanket winter had wrapped around him.

What would his parents think? Did they know he was gone by now? Were they looking for him? His mother would, wouldn’t she? His father… he was another story. What about his siblings? He barely spoken to them, he was never allowed around them. Would they even know of his escape? 

Would his family find him? His body frozen to the ground, or would he already be six-feet under, in a fresh ground of white, made from the blizzard he tried so hard to fight? On one side, he didn’t want them to find him dead like that, on the other, he didn’t want to be forgotten, left alone to rot, or worse, wolf food. 

Another shiver wracked his spin, for a whole new reason, because there were wolves out here. They lived by the mountains, in a land of thick forests, his dad was a hunter, of course there were wolves out here. 

The whole reason he decided now was better than ever, because they, and by they he means his father, decided to take him to look for game, supper. They were running low on dry and canned goods, wild game was scarce at this time during the season, but far from impossible to find. Then the storm hit, quick and unexpected. He was given his chance, he took it. He took it, and now he was going to pay for it, with his life.

“Are you lost?”    

His head pounded in protest at his feeble attempt of lifting, but the second he laid his heterochromatic eyes on the owner of said question, the child jolted back, gasping in the frigid air, flinching as it pierced his lungs, before glaring wide-eyed at the predator. Right in front of him, bright red eyes, like flames, like daggers coated in blood, staring into in soul. Fur, a pale blond, blown by the wind, a thick winter coat. Snout, sniffling at the child.

“You are going to die.” Large, pointed teeth, as he sneered out the sentence, the conclusion that Shouto didn’t need to be told.

Speak of the devil and then he comes in the form of the child’s end, a wolf, double the size- no triple the size of himself. Aggressive, breathing heavy.

And he flinched, quickly returning his gaze to the other “follow me...”

And then he was leaving, shifting through the snow, the storm. Shouto found himself on his knees, gaping at the animal who let him live.

“Follow me if you want to stay alive!” The growling voice carried through the wind, strangely hypnotizing.

And what did Shouto have to lose? Maybe he was hearing things, maybe he was seeing things, but the wolf was talking to him, urging him on. Maybe he was already dead, or maybe this would be his saving hope. So he dragged himself up on shaky legs, or, well, his whole body was shaking, but it wouldn’t stop him, he could do this. Wherever it lead, it was better than laying down and dying. Even if he took five steps, only to collapse in the snow, even if he was being led to his death, the heterochromatic followed the distant shadow, the echo of the animals voice. 

It wasn’t until he placed himself onto a rock, right foot slipping, that he noticed the dark crimson colour he was slipping on. He’s seen it before, his family were hunters, of course he’s seen blood, it wasn’t the first time he stepped in it too. 

Bloody smears, in the patted down snow, mapping his way to where the wolf sat, and the child felt bile rising to the back of his throat. He averted his eyes from the silhouette. 

The wolf was hurt, he was losing a lot of blood, the stains got larger as he staggered forward, up the hill. Then he raised his eyes, only there wasn’t a wolf sitting there anymore. There was a blond, a human, with those red eyes, deep red eyes. The same ones he’s been following. 

“As you can see, I am dying.” The same voice, same growl, but the words were said mournfully, by the human.

He sat in the snow, on knee bent, the other… the leg, no, his whole thigh, a bloody mess. His hand could only cover a part of the messy scene. Was that how it’d look if all the animals they brought in were humans? It was sad, pitiful and painful at the same time. Was this- who did this to him? 

“W-what-” Shouto’s voice cracked, he could barely hear the word himself, and he doubted he could finish the question, he doubted he wanted to know the answer.  

Instead of trying the child pushed forward, towards the body. The blond watched carefully as Shouto sat himself down beside the older one.

“Without me, my-” He started, considered the implications of his next words, “my family, they’ll die too.”

His eyes were so serious, the child wondered what they looked like as a kid. As a puppy? Was he a human or a wolf? The man in question turned, those eyes glancing down the other side of the hill where a dark borrow lay, he was mournful. That’s what those eyes held. It was daunting, unfitting for what Shouto pictured the other to appear as. Would he really die? Couldn’t the heterochromatic see him on a day where both their health were strong, where the snow didn’t burn his cheeks, blind their vision.

Though it had calmed down.

Did that mean they’d be fine? Was this their beacon of hope? Could they help each other to get better? The man claimed he’d die, they’d die, but Shouto thought he was wrong. They could make it. Shouto knew some first aid, he had to, with the rough terrain they’d trek every other day, the dangers that lurked around every corner. He might not know enough first aid for all of that though.

Once again, the bile rose, and that hopeless feeling returned, hopeless and frustrated. The child wanted to cry, he wanted his mom to make everything better, she always knew what to say, what to do. He wanted to yell at his dad, for making them come out here. He wanted to yell at himself for getting lost. 

Then again, if he didn’t run off, he wouldn’t have met the other.

“I brought you here, so that you could protect them for me.” The heterochromatic eyes snapped up to meet determined red ones, and once again, he turned those eyes down the hill behind them. 

It must of been where his family lays, burrowed in the ground, sheltered from the harsh winter snowfall. So they were wolves? Then how’d he become human? And why was he giving up on himself? Surely they could find help, the storm already began dying down. The man was able to speak, walk, it couldn’t be that bad. 

 His eyes were widened, and were those the wolf ears? Blond wolf ears were now a top his head. Shouto was witnessing him slowly returning to the wolf state. He didn’t think it possible for a human to become animal, just like that. It was illogical, but what did the child know of logic anyways?

“You must kill me,” The gasp those words earned was as sharp as an icicle, piercing his lungs, piercing the blond’s ears, “I’ll give my life to save yours.”

And Shouto hoped the wolf felt guilty, a sick sort of selfish. He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to kill the wolf. Not when that’s what he tried so hard to escape from. His father's constant nagging, always speaking of the next hunt, explaining concepts of mammals bodies that the child never cared to know, nor ever would. How to kill them, in the most profitable ways. How to cut them up, clean them.

And maybe he felt guilty for knowing those things, because, at the moment, he didn’t want to know how to kill something. It meant he had no excuse to do so. That he’d lose the being who saved him, gave him hope, the potential for a new friendship, maybe even a fresh start. They could exist together, maybe Shouto could have been a part of his family, not protecting them. Well, he’d do that too, if it meant he could become friends with the wolf.

“You can keep warm with my pelt,” His jaw tensed, “keep full with my flesh.”

This time the heterochromatic was sure he would puke. Eat another human? He couldn’t, that was wrong… but they ate animals everyday, him, his parents, his siblings. Served at the diner table with no issue. So were humans any different? Or wolf-humans? Where they even the same species? 

“But you must protect them, got it?” His teeth were as sharp as his eyes, the canines morphing into place, “feed them, keep them safe… god knows he needs it. Promise me that!”

The child jolted, the words as sharp as his teeth.

“If you don’t. Get away from here.” The fur was growing back into place, and Shouto couldn’t help but feel like prey, circled by the creatures, as if his eyes were the barrel of a gun, shoot to kill, “go die.”

More shivers wracked up his spine, teeth clattering together. The other falling back into the snow, but his eyes never left. 

“Now you must decide” The transformation had finished, those same red eyes staring at him from the golden fur. 

He shivered, his teeth clattered. He longed for the red scarf, lost to the storm. Somewhere in the vast frozen fields and forest. Caught on a tree? Buried? He wondered if someone would find it, would they know it was his? The hetrochromatic’s family were most often the only ones out here, they’d know if they’d see it, wouldn’t they? Were they looking for him as they spoke? Shouto shuffled over to those eyes, to the sun that lay half-dead in the snow. Just as he had felt not even an hour ago. Maybe it was, it felt like days. He fell to his knees, gloved hands grabbing at the fur. Wolve’s fur was soft, he knew from experience. Was this creature’s fur soft as well? His hands were too frozen to feel, even if they were no fabric between them.

And he looked into those hardened, fiery eyes, “I accept.” 

Maybe the scarf was lost to the wind.

Cra-

Never to be found.

-ack.

That was fine, the wolf’s eyes were a prettier red anyways.

Auah.

He inhaled the icy air. His hands were shaking. The wolf had closed his eyes. His head lulled into the snow. He wanted to see them one last time, but that was fine. 

It would be fine.

Shuick.

The branch didn’t go in as easy as he would have liked, making a mess of the snow around them, of his own clothing. But it was fine. 

Shouto got to glance at those red eyes one more time as they opened in a painful end. But it was quick, he’d make quick work of the wolf.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It reminded him of the sunrise that came with the morning, the wolf’s eyes. It reminded him of the bloody mess left on the ground the disfigured body, the mess of his hands. 

Though the blond was right. He’d keep warm with this pelt, and his stomach was full. Then there was the den down the hill, he’d cover himself, lugging the fur down. Because he had a promise, a promise to his new friend. Only friend he’s ever made. 

A promise he couldn’t keep, not when he paused meters from the burrow. When a pair of bright green eyes glanced on curiously from the dark. Not when the brave soul of dark green fur crept out, hunched towards the ground, those eyes flickering between the two. 

When his ears folded back, “Kacchan…?”

His friend had a name. He killed his friend, he killed this kid’s caretaker. He couldn’t stay, he wanted to go home, this wasn’t home. And the green-eyed wolf let out a yelp as the heterochromatic turned his back on him.

He ran up the hill, fur on his back, through the forest. To the top. He wanted to go home, back to his mom’s arms. His mom… she was down the other side of the hill, with his dad, his brother and sister. They had come looking for him.

The red sunrise shined upon them. 

He reached out to them, and they backed up. So he ran down the hill. 

And his mother took the shotgun from his father's hands. 

Bam.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #carn #todobaku