#I thought that was just a speck of dust or something on my monitor

[yikesharringrove]

Me and my thots

Read on ao3

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Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

“Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

 Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

[neakco]

Wait For It

AO3 Fanfiction.net

Inspired heavily by the song "Wait For It" by Leslie Odam Jr from Hamilton an American Musical.

Red Robin calls a meeting for the Justice League. Everyone is there except Red Robin. Instead one of the monitors flickers to life.

Brief mention of some past character deaths. Very mild violence.

The Justice League had gathered when Superman looked to Batman, “Red Robin called this meeting, since he isn’t here what's this about Batman?”

Before he could answer a screen flickered to life. The angle was strange and it took a few moments for them to realized that the camera was attached to a person.

The person wearing the camera appeared to be setting up a larger camera. A women's voice could be heard from off screen speaking in accented English.

“Are you sure this is a good plan Birdy?”

“I am just worried. What if Batman shows up to take you away?”

“Positive LB.” The voice of Red Robin answered.

There were a couple confused or shocked faces around but no one looked away.

“I have been gone over a month and no one has called or tried looking for me, I promise no one from the Justice League are going to interfere.”

Batman frowned, he was sure he had seen Just the other day. Had it really been a month.

Tim turned and they could see a women in red and spotted black spandex with a wide smile. “If he was too busy keeping Gotham in line to notice than he can keep Gotham, you're all mine Birdy.”

She came forward and the screen filled with red for a moment as she was too close to Tim for it to pick up images properly.

When she was fully in frame again had a look that she was heading to her death.

“This is the last fight LB, everything is set, we just need to wait for it.”

The women, LB, smiled nervously and spoke softly, “Si quelque chose m'arrive, sache que je t'aime.”

“Pareil ici LB. But nothing is going to happen, we planned this months ago. Now get in position, I will let you know when we are world wide.”

Batman was frowning harder at the screen. Tim had been in contact with this LB for months apparently. Did Alfred know?

He replaced the camera on his suit and started pressing keys rapidly, there wasn’t much for the league to see but when anyone tried to speak Wonder Women glared them down.

Red Robin appeared to sit down in a TV station’s control booth, but from what they could see an entire wall was missing. The camera moved suddenly and Red Robin's face came into view, his mask appeared slightly different than normal but it was clearly him.

“If any of the league interferes and ruins this plan then I will use any and all blackmail I have to ruin all of you. You are watching as witnesses only, don’t you dare forget it.”

Another monitor flickered to life. This one showed Paris, or what was left of Paris. Buildings were crumbling, the Eiffel Tower was on its side, dust filled the air and not a speck of movement could be seen. Then the camera changed to show the women in Red standing tall on a pile of rubble near the tower.

Batman was thankful, it meant he had time to think of the answers to questions he was sure they had.

“Okay LB, we are live in 3…2…1”

Someone let out a gasp, the women who had appeared okay before was now badly injured. One arm hung limp at her side, there was a long gash freely flowing from her shoulder, she was limping and a bruise was forming on one of her cheeks.

Yet she stood tall and proud as she addressed the camera in her accented English.

There was a gasp, though Batman couldn’t place it, he was too focused on the screen. How did no one notice this was happening? He had more questions then answers at this point.

“My name is Ladybug, I am one of Paris' heroes. Many that know of me will be able to tell you that I have been protecting Paris for ten years now with my partner Chat Noir. What many of you don’t know is that we were 13 when we were chosen. You don’t know that my father was a baker, my mother an amazing women that commanded respect with her very presence. They are both gone now, all I have is left is their legacy.” She gestures at the rubble with her good arm, “Thankfully they died in a fire so they never had to see me fail all of you so badly. There is some good news, the original villain, Hawkmoth, also died before this. The fire was devastating, it didn’t discriminate between the sinners and the innocent.”

Her look grew murderous, “But I live, like bread I rise. I refuse to break, even when all of my loved ones have died.”

The women, Ladybug, shifted painfully before smirking, “Despite all you have done and thrown at me I am still here. Try as you might you can not be me, I am I am inimitable, Paris's original hero.” She threw her good arm into the air, “Here I am Lila! My arm is broken, I can barely walk, so now is your chance coward! You have taken everything from me but my life and my pride. So here I stand, just as you asked.” She chuckled darkly, “I'm not even late. I am standing still, lying in wait. You take too long and blood loss will get to me long before you do Rossi.”

The camera changed to the wider view they saw at the beginning. Though now you could see the red that was Ladybug. You could also see a bright spot of purple making its way towards her through the rubble.

The camera switched to a third that was still zoomed out but now you could see that the person in purple moved like they knew they had won.

The villain began yelling in French. Thankfully Red Robin was typing out subtitles for the world with very little delay.

The members of the league were all tense, they didn’t like what they were seeing. Only a few were more relaxed, Red Robin had said there was a plan, surely he wouldn’t be idly sitting by if it was falling apart.

Ladybug laughed insanely drawing all attention back to the screen as she addressed the figure in purple.

“Is this what you wanted Lila? Countless dead, everything destroyed? All this, just to kill me because I asked you not to lie about me in front of a boy. So relentless.” The last part was barely audible.

“I worked hard to get this win. Paris is everything I deserve, it is my reward. All I need to do is take your earrings and then I can fix everything.”

“They won’t love you. Hawkmoth was bad, yes, but you raised the stakes. You chose to thrive off all this death and chaos.” Ladybug stood straighter with a wince and glared, “You, Lila Rossi, will never be a hero.”

The purple villain, Lila, finally stood before the weaponless and defeated Ladybug. The camera changed again so that everyone could now see what was happening with clarity.

“Now hand over your earrings and I may let you live.”

Red Robin was moving fast now, they could hear the grapple. Was this part of the plan or was everything falling apart enough that he was panicking and moving to save the women that loves him?

Ladybug laughed, “Is what you have left me with really living?”

“Fine, give me the earrings and I will kill you painlessly.”

When Ladybug didn’t move Lila backhanded her and sent her sprawling on the ground.

Batman was frowning at the monitor Something was odd.

“The earrings now!” Lila pulled a sword from what they thought was a cane, “Don’t make me take your ears too.”

“Cataclysm.” The pike of rubble they were standing on collapsed into dust at the exact moment a yoyo came and wrapped around Ladybug to prevent her from hitting the ground far below.

“Go ahead and try bitch.” Ladybug spat.

Batman’s eyes widened when he saw it, Ladybug wasn’t wearing any earrings.

Lila hit the ground hard and was pinned by some of the rocks that hadn’t dissolved. Two figures landed gracefully in front of her.

Ladybug no longer looked broken and bruised. Her black outfit was pristine and shone like scales in the sun as the light illuminated her. She had small cat ears and a more reptilian tail. Red Robin's outfit was similar to normal except it was subtlety spotted and he seemed to have gained a fox tail.

Through the main camera it looked like Lila was cowed but through Tim's camera they could see the raw hatred on the women's face.

“Congrats Lila.” Ladybug smiled, “They world now knows your name, just as you wanted.”

Red Robin approached and plucked a broach from her. A bright purple light engulfed her as she transformed into a regular women. “Enjoy your infamy in prison.”

“You think I am going to prison then you are delusional. I will be free in an hour.” The women spit as she slowly reached for something.

Ladybug kicked the downed women’s arm hard enough to break it. Tears in her eyes as she glared. “That was for unknowingly killing Chat Noir in one of your senseless fires. I should let the kwami curse you.”

Red Robin placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her the yoyo.

She shook her head and walked behind Lila as she started to take something out of a baton.

While they were focused on watching Ladybug they didn’t see what Red Robin had done but suddenly a white butterfly was taking off out if the yoyo. He threw it in the air, “Miraculous Ladybug.”

There was a light and magic swirled out from him. The Justice League watched in awe as buildings repaired themselves and people appeared uninjured in the streets.

Lila glared in shock as Ladybug zipped her arms together.

Red Robin laughed, “Did you really not notice us defeat your akuma?” he opened up the yoyo to briefly reveal a computer screen where he appeared to send something. “Police now have all the video evidence they need to keep you locked up for a long time Rossi.”

Ladybug used her baton while Red Robin used the yoyo as a grapple to land in front of the camera.

Batman tried to study the weapon. It had some sort of dimensional storage, a computer, and worked as a grapple. He refused to be jealous of his son.

Red Robin put his arm over Ladybug's shoulders as they smiled for the camera.

They spoke together, “We are proud to announce to the world that Paris is finally free of emotional terrorism. We thank you for bearing witness to this historical event.”

The livestream ended but Red Robin's camera was still going for the Justice League. He removed it and turned it so they were both in the shot.

Ladybug smiled, “Hello Justice League, I assume you are familiar with my partner.”

He laughed as he looked to her, “You assume they are intelligent, the costume change may throw them off too much.”

“On topic Renard Tacheté.”

“Right, sorry Arassas.” He turned back to the camera, the soft look evaporating to a harsher one. “Don’t know if you dense lot noticed, but Paris is under our protection. So no one from the league is allowed to operate here without our permission.”

Ladybug smiled not unkindly, “If you do find yourselves needing any help though all you have to do is ask.”

The video feed ended eruptly and left the Justice League staring at empty screens. After a moment of silence everyone started to yell questions or try to find answers on there own. Batman felt a headache coming on as he tried to answer questions he didn’t know the answer to.

During the chaos Diana smiled to herself and waved to Batman as she walked out. She didn’t need answers. After all, she was the one that had given Ladybug Tim's number.

Supossed translations according to google:

Pareil ici LB - Same here LB

Si quelque chose m'arrive, sache que je t'aime. -

If something happens to me know that I love you

Renard Tacheté - Spotted Fox

Arassas - mythical reptilian cat

#maribat #timari #sleep deprived idea

[luca-moreno]

Operation Asteria

after X & before X (Unnecessarily long and indulgent and probably just generally unnecessary but it was crap day)

By the time Kate had seen to both Eva and Luca, Ben had fallen asleep, still in his armor, propped up against the wall beside Luca’s bed in the medbay. 

She crouched down in front of him. “Phoenix Roosevelt. Ben... wake up.”

He blinked at her blearily once, dark eye lashes fluttering against scarred cheeks before closing again. With the dried blood and dust caked on his armor, it didn’t take much to understand he was almost as depleted as Eva. Kate sent a call out to Thurman but he took one look at the sleeping phoenix and shook his head.

“I can’t move him, sugar. He’s too heavy in that armor for me. Best off getting that big one in here.”

“Zeus?”

“Yeah.” Thurman turned away from the phoenix and leaned over Luca, peering into the engineer’s face. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Kate threaded her arm through his and leaned into him as they stood beside Luca’s side. She wished she could join the two sleeping figures in a bunk and sleep too but there was no one else on board to take the strain and she had already been working for too many days straight. “Yes, but nothing a good rest won’t cure.”

Thurman curled his arm around her. “They aren’t the only ones that need rest. When was the last time you slept?”

“About the same time you did.”

“Not good enough.”

Kate sighed, releasing him to move over to her terminal. She sent off a quick message to the phoenix, wondering if either Ajax or Zeus were available. She suspected they would be the only two that could prompt Phoenix Roosevelt to move.

In the meantime, she prepped the treatments the smaller vanguard would need and tried not to disturb the captain where he had also fallen asleep in the chair by the fury’s bed. At least he had managed to change out of his armor and into comfortable fatigues, although even that had been a fight to drag him away from Eva’s side long enough to achieve it. 

“There’ll be time to rest later.”

--

Nico heaved the last battered chunks of the juggernaut into the corner of the cargo bay, along with the other scrap bits of geth still left from the fight. Harris shuffled along beside him, rummaging through the debris for anything that might be of use.

“What are you looking for?” he grunted, lifting what might once have been an arm and flinging it aside.

“Luca has always wanted a geth combat drone. Thought maybe we could get him one. It… It will be nice to surprise him if he wakes up.”

“He’ll wake up. But no fucking geth drones though. Had enough of those bastards.” 

Nico was about to throw another disabled geth chunk onto the pile when his omnitool chirped. 

He ignored the weird plummet of his stomach when he realized the message wasn’t from Marie. He refused to let himself think about where she was right now and concentrates on the text on his screen instead.

Ben was exactly where Kate had said he would be when he strode into the medbay – slumped against the wall by the engineer’s quiet form.

“Hey, stronzo,” he crouched and tapped Ben firmly on the centre of his forehead, just under the matted shock of white hair that always fell forward into his eyes. “You can’t sleep here. Plus you stink.”

Ben jerked and waved his hand weakly, some gesture that might be a sign telling Nico to fuck off, but Nico ignored it. “Ben,” he tried again but when there was no response, he sighed and threw one armored arm over his shoulder and hoisted Ben up to his feet. Ben protested feebly.

“Doc said you charged from the cargo bay with the kid. No wonder you’re fucked now.”

“Help Luca,” Ben mumbled. He lifted his head to look over at the engineer. The monitors beeped quietly and the air had that same antiseptic smell all medical bays did.

“He’ll be fine,” Nico said unnecessarily as he started to lead Ben away. They moved carefully and quietly, not wanting to disturb the captain where he was dozing, chin on his chest. Nico wasn’t entirely sure he was actually asleep. “You can come and check on your new boyfriend later.”

Ben made a small, strangled sound. Miserable enough to remind Nico that Ben already had two boyfriends.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He shuffled Ben into the hallway. “Not that easy to move on. I get that.”

Ben eyed Nico suspiciously. Nico walked slowly so that Ben could keep up, but he was tempted just to throw Ben over his shoulder so he could move faster. The other vanguard pointed at a blackened streak along the bulkhead instead.

 “W’happened?”

Nico grunted. “We were boarded. Geth. No casualties, though.” Nico couldn’t hold the speck of pride in his voice over that. “Marie made sure of that.”

They reached Ben’s quarters and Nico deposited Ben unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. His thick arms got soaked as he unlatched the seals on Ben’s armor and tugged off each plate. He takes a moment to rinse them under the spray of the water, noting the blackened parts with concealed dismay. And Ben had only just repaired it too. Ben peeled his undersuit off to his waist and shuffled deeper under the water, dunking his head. A river of red swirled down the drain.

“Finish cleaning up, Hurricane.” Nico said as he climbed back to his feet. “I’ll be back with some food soon.”

--

When Luca wakes up, it’s to the captain’s unmistakable voice speaking quietly with the doctor. 

For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was, except that his body ached and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. He tried to mumble something, just a slur of a word and then Isaac was leaning over him.

“Son. Luca... you’re awake.”

“Where… Are we home?”

Isaac’s mouth curved in a tight smile. “Yes, Luca. We’re back on the Berlin. We made it, thanks to yours and Ben’s fancy flying. The shuttle has seen better days but we won’t talk about that.”

“Lieutenant Ryan is gonna be so mad,” Luca scrunched his eyes shut again. “He told me to take care of the shuttle.”

“Don’t worry about that. Or him.”

Luca forced a swallow just as another shape manifested at his side. He squinted up, relived to see the doctor holding a cup of ice chips. She handed him enough that he could find his voice. There was another figure on the bed nearby but Luca doesn’t need the confirmation of who it was when he saw the long golden waves spread across the pillow.

And Isaac at his side, a careful smile on his face - told Luca she was going to be okay.

“Evie?” he asked it anyway, tensing as he waited for confirmation.

“Resting,” Kate told him smoothly and he breathed a small sigh of relief. Isaac squeezed his shoulder gently. “It will be a few days before she’s up, but she will be alright.”

“Good,” Luca struggled to pull himself upright but he was relieved when the room didn't spin around him. He flopped his hands into his lap. “Where’s Ben?”

“He’s resting too.”

Luca nodded, pushing aside the flicker of disappointment he couldn’t see him yet. He peered at Eva over the captain’s shoulder. “Can… can I give her a hug?”

Neither of them tried to stop him as he wriggled out of his sheets and gingerly climbed onto the bed beside Eva. He tucked up close to her side - it was a tight squeeze, but they both fit and Luca threw one arm around his friend and hugged her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Evie. When you wake up-“

Luca scrambled up then, almost falling off the bed in his urgency. Isaac reached to steady him. “Neeboo, where’s Neeboo, Cap?”

“Your drone?”

“My pack! Where… oh!”

Luca slid off the bed and dropped to his knees, dragging out the battered bag that he had used on the mission. He didn’t know how it ended up in the medbay with him but he wasn’t about question it. He ripped open the panels, rummaging through until his familiar and trusty little drone blipped and whirred and rose into the air at his shoulder.

“Neeboo, hand it over.”

The drone drifts close then pops out a small compartment from its underbelly. Luca took the tiny disc out and straightened. He solemnly handed the item to his captain, then saluted.

“Here is the intel, Captain.”

Isaac stared down at the disc in his palm. “Luca… What… How did you..?”

“Um. I swapped the discs as, um… a precaution. After what Viz told us...” 

Luca glanced nervously at Kate as he continued. “Vance will be enjoying about three tetrabites of Lieutenant Ryan’s asari porn collection right about now.”

#scooter roosevelt #isaac cerrillo #eva novakov #dr kate #thurman #luca moreno #nico morrisini #operation asteria

[sylvanfreckles]

“I Never Should Have Given You a Chance” (FebuWhump 27)

Fandom: Ace Attorney Summary: Klavier confronts his brother in an attempt to learn just how far Kristoph had fallen since that first case.

CW: Deadnaming, implied abuse, gaslighting. (Details at the bottom in case you don’t want spoilers, skip to the section in italics)

* * *

“Gavin.”

Klavier turned away from the observation monitors, not entirely surprised to see Phoenix Wright enter the room behind him. “Herr Wright.”

Wright gave a sigh and tucked his hands into his pockets. He'd finally discarded that god-awful hoodie for a more respectable button-down and slacks, as befit a formerly-disgraced lawyer seeking reinstatement. “You don't have to do this, you know.”

Arms folded across his chest, Klavier swiveled his gaze back to the monitors. “Actually, I think I do. I may be the only one who can.” He felt more than heard Wright step forward to join him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the images on the top row of monitors.

It was four screens all showing the same location: Kristoph Gavin's cell. Even now, after over a year, Klavier still couldn't believe it had come to this. Kristoph had always had a dark side, but murder?

“I can ask someone else,” Wright offered. “You don't have to face him.”

Klavier let out a bitter laugh. “Who, Herr Forehead? You know what my brother's like. How he can twist people up.” He was staring through the monitor now, instead of looking at it, but it felt far too difficult to pull his eyes back into focus. “I wouldn't put him through that.”

Wright's hand was suddenly warm on his shoulder. It took all his focus not to flinch away, not to show weakness. “And you?”

“Oh, I'm used to it,” Klavier ruffled his bangs with one hand and shot Wright his most sparkling rockstar smile. “I'll be fine.”

The older man wasn't smiling. For the first time, Klavier noticed Wright was wearing an odd pendant shaped like a curving teardrop. It seemed to shine oddly in the light of the observation room, and for a brief moment Klavier was sure he'd been caught in a lie. “Gavin...”

“I'd better get going,” Klavier interrupted him. “Visiting hours end in thirty minutes.”

Wright opened his mouth, hand raised like he was going to stop Klavier, then he slowly relaxed and stuffed his hand back into his pocket. “Mind if I watch from here?”

Klavier shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he was out of the observation room and down the narrow hall toward his brother's solitary confinement cell.

It took less than a minute to walk there, but he'd already come up with and discarded half a dozen plans to get his brother talking. Kristoph wouldn't believe any of his excuses and would see right through his lies, he always had. It was best to just face him honestly and openly.

He nodded to the guard, who swung open the heavy door that lead to the private cell, and stepped through to face his brother. Kristoph was lounging in his armchair, a book open on one knee, and didn't look up even when the guard slammed the door shut. Klaver braced one arm against the bars and leaned forward, until his forehead nearly touched the barrier, and cleared his throat.

Kristoph looked up then. “Ah, Konrad. I was wondering if you would visit.”

It was another battle not to flinch at his brother's callous use of his old name, but Klavier managed to hide it by shifting his stance. “Good evening, Kristoph.”

“What, no bruder? No guten abend? Where's the German with which you so charmingly spice your conversation?”

“I'm not here to play games,” Klavier glowered.

“Pity.” Kristoph snapped his book shut and set it on the table beside his chair. He rose in one smooth motion and delicately adjust the cuffs of his shirt. “You've always been so much fun to play with, Konrad.”

He couldn't stop the flinch this time, but steeled himself to face down his brother's taunting voice. “You know why I'm here, Kristoph.”

Kristoph spread his hands. “How could I possibly know that? I've been in prison...or have you forgotten, Konrad?”

“Stop calling me that!” he slammed his fist against the bars before he could catch himself and had to look away from the smug smile that spread across his brother's face. “That's not who I am and you know it.”

“I know a piece of paper doesn't change who you are, Konrad,” Kristoph sneered. He stepped right up to the bars, almost close enough to touch. “You'll always be the Gavin family's disappointment. After all, with me in prison who will carry on the family tradition? Our father's legacy will dissolve into nothing and it's all because of you.”

Klavier grit his teeth, forcing himself to look back at his brother. “I'm not here to talk about our family, bruder.”

“Then what?”

“Forgery.”

Kristoph's eyebrows shot up and he leaned back on one heel, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh? Looking to improve your record as a prosecutor? Or are you joining the family business after all, Konrad?”

Every use of his old name was like slap. Konrad had been the little boy whose life was planned out for him, start to finish. Who was supposed to be a defense attorney and join the Gavin family law firm. The boy who wasn't supposed to have disappointing grades, or the wrong friends, or a desire for justice over victory.

“We want to know how far back it goes,” Klavier finally ground out. He hoped ignoring his brother's taunts would make him stop, though that didn't seem likely. Kristoph had always been good at picking up on every little weakness and digging at it. “Cases, clients, partners...how much of the last seven years is just a fabrication?”

“Are you offering a deal?” the older man examined his nails for a moment in a show of nonchalance, then brushed a speck of dust off of his lapel. “Will you take a year off my life's sentence for every dirty little secret I air?”

“I'm giving you a chance to come clean, Kristoph.”

“A chance.” Kristoph adjusted his glasses, and for a brief moment the light reflecting off the lenses hid his eyes. “Like the chance I gave you?”

Klavier frowned. “I don't know what you mean.”

“The great Phoenix Wright, Konrad. I gave you everything you needed to destroy him. Without that case you would have faded into nothing; just another mewling prosecutor with more flair than sense. You would have drowned in obscurity if it wasn't for me. I created this,” he hissed, punctuating his words with a jab at Klavier's chest.

“No,” Klavier took a step back (when had Kristoph gotten close enough to touch him?). “That first case, that was supposed to be you and me. You...you didn't...”

“And I would have crushed you,” Kristoph scoffed. “You wouldn't have even known to look for the falsified evidence without me. Klavier Gavin would have been a brilliant shooting star burning out in the night sky...and Konrad Gavin would take his rightful place in the family again.”

Klavier had tucked his arms tight around his chest and stared at his brother in mute horror. “That's not...”

“Think about it, bruderchen,” Kristoph taunted, adjusting his glasses again. “What makes more sense? That I would risk my reputation going up against an inexperienced child...or that it was all a setup?”

The air in the room was suddenly stifling. Klavier felt like his chest was squeezing in on itself as his brother's words swirled through his mind. It couldn't...it wasn't true. This wasn't...his entire career wasn't a lie. He'd earned his place. He'd built up his own reputation, both in music and law, on his own, not because of some scheme of his brother's.

He jumped when the door behind him slammed open. Kristoph looked over Klavier's shoulder and his face broke into his usual condescending smirk. “I'm only allowed one visitor at a time, you know.”

“I'm not here for you.” Wright was there, one hand on Klavier's arm. “Let's go. Come on.”

“You wanted to know how far back the forgeries went, Konrad?” Kristoph taunted. “Why not look in the mirror?”

The solid metal door cut off his brother's mocking voice, and Klavier could only stare dumbly at it while Wright discussed something with the guard. Kristoph's voice turned around and around in his head. All of it...he'd rocketed to fame after that case all those years ago. Had it really just been one of his brother's schemes?

“All right,” Wright said, breaking him out of his thoughts and turning to take Klavier's arm again. “This way.”

He let himself be lead through the halls of the prison, cheeks burning with a combination of shock and humiliation. He had forgotten Wright was there, watching the whole thing, listening to every damning word that poured out of Kristoph's mouth.

Klavier looked up when Wright tugged him into a small waiting room, empty except for the pair of worn leather sofas set a right angles to each other with a table in the middle. Wright all but shoved him down in one and took a seat on the table, his hands shifting to hold Klavier's shoulders.

“Look at me, Klavier,” Wright said, punctuating his words with a little shake. “Focus on me, all right?”

He was hyperventilating. Klavier swallowed and tried to slow his breathing as he stared up into the older man's stern face. “Herr Wright....”

“It's all right. He can't reach you here. He'll be in that cell for the rest of his life and you never have to see him again, all right?”

Klavier tried to protest. “But we need....”

“We'll find another way,” Wright shook his head. “He fooled us all, Klavier, but don't let him fool you now. Kristoph did not make you the man you are today; that was all you. Your hard work, your dedication to the truth. It was all you.”

He dropped his head and tried to nod. His brother's words still dug into his soul, and it would take some time to work past them.

The older man patted his shoulder. “All right. Let's get out of here.”

* * *

In this story, Klavier’s birthname is Konrad, but he spent his entire life with other expectations piled on him. When he broke out and took his own path he changed his name to Klavier. In this story Kristoph repeatedly calls him Konrad to hurt him. There’s a little bit of implied abuse connected with that name, and Kristoph gaslights Klavier so much he could light all of early 1800s London.

I don’t know if this is worth this much of a warning, but I didn’t want any of it to be a nasty surprise.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday27 #ace attorney #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #kristoph gavin #cw deadnaming #cw gaslighting #angst #headcanon

[kafka-ish]

brother | r.t.

can boys and girls be friends without attached feelings?

word count: 2.1k

warnings/included: angst(?), college AU, fem!reader

a/n: based off of this song

-

Richie Tozier sat in the parking lot of USC’s Law Department. Become a Lawyer his mom said. You’ll make a lot of money his dad said. It only took two weeks into his freshman year of college for Richie to figure out that he actually hated the judicial system and to hell with it. He was about to light a cigarette even though he pledged to quit months ago: the last day of senior year.

He and the rest of the Losers were hanging by the quarry. Beverly was sitting on the hood of Bill’s car, slathering sunscreen on her sensitive skin because she burns easily. Ben sat with her, his arm itching to wrap itself around her pale shoulder. Bill, Eddie, and Stan were playing cards and Mike had to monitor them for cheating. Richie would’ve joined, but he didn’t want to get up from his position that overlooked the quarry’s water hole. He was laying down on the rocks, eyes closed and shades on, in place of his usual glasses.

“I think I’m gonna quit smokin’,” he announced with a certain proudness that his voice normally did not hold.

“O-oh yeah? How l-long’s that gonna luh-last?” Bill looked up from his cards, giving Eddie a chance to sneak a peak.

“I saw that, Eddie!” Mike Hanlon called from above and Eddie flinched.

“Cripes. Warn a guy before you yell first.”

Four months. It lasted four months, Big Bill, as Richie took out his BIC. He had to mess with it a few times to get the flame to startup. He always preferred matches, but the black lighter with flame stickers he kept in his shirt pocker was cooler.

A yellow-orange heat finally flicked the contraption to life when, at the same time, his Nokia 232 buzzed against the gearshift.

Four months and one day.

The small flame died in Richie’s hand that was now pressing his phone to his ear with no hesitation.

“Rich the Dick Tozier speaking, how can I help you?” Sure, it wasn’t the most professional way to answer a phone call, but who was anyone to call Richie Tozier a professional guy?”

“Hey, Richie!” It was y/n. y/n the girl who sat in front of him in his English class. y/n the girl who wore parkas in fucking California because it’s for the fashion and you wouldn’t understand. y/n the girl who got drunk off her ass at the first party of the year—which, ironically, was where they met.

The parties in college were spectacularly different from the parties Richie would go to in high school. More so, the parties in California were more… insane. Wild. The booze was exponentially more expensive—nothing that Bill would ever think of getting at his own. And the girls could closely be mistaken for a Hollywood child star.

Nothing like the parties in Derry Richie thought to himself as he drunkenly swept through the halls of a fucking Mansion. He didn’t realize his feet were working properly until he looked down, seeing as he was standing on all fours—all twos. How he was still standing up remained a mystery to him because he must’ve had ten shots of vodka that was worth more than his entire being and future.

Before him, when he entered the billiard room, stood a girl even drunker than him (somehow). She stood on the pool table, laughing above the crowd of frat boys who were yelling to take your damn shirt off already! And c’mon don’t be a prude. They surrounded her like dogs fighting for the last strip of steak until Richie stepped in.

“A little drunk to be standing on the edge like that.” He took a swig from his red solo cup. “Here, sweetheart, lemme help you down.” He offered her an unsteady hand only to be brushed away like a speck of dust on a grandfather clock.

“I can help myself,” y/n said. She got down from the pool table by sitting on the ledge first, then letting each foot touch the ground one at a time. “See?” She steadied herself using his shoulder and looked up at him with a smirk that let him know they were going to be friends.

And they were friends.

y/n was overjoyed when she found out Richie was in one out of her five classes and Richie was just happy to be able to talk someone’s ear off without them rolling their eyes or giving him the side-eye.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Richie said, mimicking the same enthusiasm from across the speaker. “What’re you up to?”

“Besides calling you?” Richie felt himself beginning to laugh but it felt wrong to do so. As cheery as y/n sounded, there was something off.

“Are you okay?” Richie blurted out, but he couldn’t help himself. It was in his nature; always looking out for y/n; always taking care of her.

“I’m fine, Tozier.” She laughed but he could tell it was fake. The way her voice was still summer in the crisp of fall was fake. The whole call was fake. “You just love checking in on me don’t ya.” Another giggle left the speaker—covering the cracks in her voice, or a sob.

“No, really.” His hand left the phone—his shoulder and cheek propping the device up against his ear—and reached for the gearshift. “How are you?”

Static. But Richie had been over at her place thousands of times before—not needing to ask for her address or pull out a map for directions. And Richie was right (he was always right) when he burst through the wooden door of y/n’s small, but somehow spacious, Los Angeles apartment.

“y/n, I know you’re in there,” Richie said, followed by three curt knocks. His shoulder slumped against the door and he sighed. “y/n, don’t make me go all big bad wolf on your little ol’ door.” He looked down to see the welcoming mat where guests were supposed to wipe their shoes off.

There’s No Place Like Home

A short laugh bounced off the walls from inside and Richie took that as his queue. His hand had a firm grasp around the bronze doorknob, refreshing from the California air. He jangled it, only for the structure to not budge, like it didn’t give a damn that he had to get inside.

“Dammit, y/n/n, get off your goddamned high horse and open the door.”

Richie was never one for words, but at these, the lock broke in and in slipped Richie. It was as if the door had heard his cries and complied—feeling sorry for the boy. But the mysteriousness of y/n’s apartment door didn’t matter when Richie’s eyes caught y/n’s figure—or lack of one. She sat on the leather couch which was a moving present from her parents (“We know how expensive it can be; being a young adult with college expenses. Wow, to think, my baby’s all grown up.”), wrapped in a blanket, burrito style. Even fro six feet away (approximately), Richie could see the tears welling in her eyes and the snot spilling from her nose.

“Richie Tozier, can you ever learn to take a goddamn hint?” y/n’s voice was far too weak to show any sign of malicious intent. He stood in front of her, tentative but also caring. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know how.

“I am taking the hint.” Richie sat down next to the bundle of blankets. He sat close, so close that if y/n’s feet were on the floor, his knees would’ve touched hers. She could smell his mint deodorant and cheap cologne; or maybe she was just so used to having him next to her, that was what she knew he smelled like. y/n smelled like this month’s body wash. Orange blossom. She must’ve taken an extra-long soak today. She always did when something was wrong. “I know you want me here, toots. Otherwise, you wouldn’t’ve called.”

Richie was right and at the moment y/n hated him for being able to read her mind.

She was about to tell him off but a strangled cry left her lips instead. Richie didn’t need to ask what was wrong to know what was wrong. Besides, it would be cruel—condescending—to put a filter over his voice the way you’d talk to a terrier or a baby and ask what’s wrong?

It was clear what was wrong. Judging by the two-hour-long bath she had taken beforehand and off-brand, empty Ben & Jerry’s container on her coffee table: her piece of shit boyfriend had just dumped her. Richie never liked Brandon, y/n’s so-called (now ex) boyfriend. But it could’ve been the other way around, too. His over-gelled head was always stuck in his Levi 512’s and the only time Richie saw that pompous smirk leave his lips was when he walked in on him and y/n kissing. Gag. But y/n had the right to be upset about getting dumped—even if it was by a perpetual twerp who never passed up the chance to brag about his perfect SAT score (wake up, buddy, we all got into the same college).

Richie sat waiting for a reply he was never going to get because y/n was too busy blowing her nose into the sleeve of her robe.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Carefully, Richie unwrapped y/n from the cocoon, similarly to how a cautious child unwraps their presents. “You don’t need Brandon. You don’t need anyone.” It was true. She didn’t need anyone, and if anything people needed her. “You’re y/n.” He spoke the two words with such sureness—confidence. She was y/n, and if that’s not enough for them to see, then they’re delusional.

“How do you know?” She asked. Even if it was just a college boyfriend—her first college boyfriend—it still hurt like hell. The thought of being not wanted. Knowing it was her; that she couldn’t just fix whatever her lover didn’t like that ended up pushing him off the edge. He just didn’t like her.

Of course, she didn’t love Brandon. She didn’t love the way his hair was always stiff and she couldn’t comb her fingers through it the way she did Richie’s. She didn’t love him finding an excuse to say hello to the next blonde he saw whenever they went to parties together. She didn’t love Brandon, and Brandon apparently didn’t love her. But if Brandon didn’t love her, then who would?

Maybe the answer was staring her down right in front of her, or pressing against her shoulder as Richie bent down to pick up the empty ice cream carton. “You are y/n, right?” Richie asked in attempts to bring her spirits up.

And he did.

y/n’s eyes crinkled as she smiled and she chocked on her breath at the laugh she tried to hold in. “Do you think I’m an impostor?”

“Who knows?” Richie sat back down. His shoulder brushed her covered one and his head fell back to look at the ceiling. “Plastic surgery is pretty popular these days. Especially in La City of Angels.” He turned to face her now—a tear-free y/n that stared back at him. Her eyes were much lighter than before and her skin looked like it had just been kissed. By who?

“You’re an angel,” y/n said unexpectedly. Well, this was a turn of events. Richie managed to suppress his cough—a usual reaction that’d take place when he was surprised.

He pulled on the collar of his band-tee (Rock On, AC/DC!) because it was all of the sudden hard to breathe in this small LA apartment of y/n’s. He felt his pulse quicken under the skin of his wrist and neck. A line of sweat was forming beneath his browbone. Oftentimes, it was hard to differentiate if California was undergoing an unforeseen heatwave or if Richie was just drawing a fever. But summer had passed and Richie hand’t gotten sick in years, even if it was just a head cold.

Richie sat there, speechless, and wondered. He wondered why, out of all the nicknames in the world, he hasn’t called y/n baby yet. It was always babe or honey, but never baby. Why was that? Hypothetically, he could call her that. He could call her a lot of things—like his. So why didn’t he? Why had he never asked y/n out?

But it occurred to him, as y/n tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, that y/n was hurting. She needed a friend and nothing more. A brother, per se. He could sense her lean in. For a kiss, perhaps? But Richie was quick to dodge and cup her face in his large palm. An intimate action, sure, but their relationship was far from it.

“Look, y/n/n.” His breath hit her face. It was warm and felt like home. “You’re hurting right now.” His thumb rubbed along her jawline. “We’re just friends, right?”

“Friends,” y/n echoed back to him. And while she wasn’t completely convinced with the words coming from Richie Tozier’s mouth, she’d agree with him for his sake.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x reader fluff #richie tozier x reader angst #richie tozier x reader fanfiction #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier angst #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #richie tozier imagine

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor (DabixReader) Pt.2

Aaaah. Not that it was mega popular before but I’m having fun writing it. Dabi is more of my view of him rather than what I’ve seen him written like but I’m sure as I write for him more I’ll improve. Nevertheless, enjoy!

As always, Trigger warning for blood!

Part 1: X

Part 3: X

Enjoy~!

    You thought he would attack upon first waking up. That he would spring into action and immediately burn you to a crisp. All that would be left of you would be ashes or crispy pieces of flesh flaking away in the wind for him to season his dinner with. Death should have been imminent.

    What you didn’t expect was him to groan and puke all over your floor. The hot vomit staining your carpet, bile leaking into your hardwood floors as he rolls off the couch and onto the ground. He’s gritting his teeth and panting, squeezing as much air as he can into his lungs before more acid spills from his mouth. 

    And you’re just standing there. Wide eyed and unsure. What were you supposed to do? What are you supposed to do? The man you had healed and then subsequently taken hostage is now puking on your floor and you’re just staring at him. 

    What did you do to him? Could this be the overloading of your quirk? Is he allergic to blood? Can he not stand the taste? 

    Wait- if he couldn’t stand the taste then it would have been evident back when he was still bleeding to death. To have a reaction now is a secondary side effect. You tense as he tugs at the bandages around his head and tears them off. His lips part as he huffs and gulps down unrestricted access to oxygen. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, the clink of the catching staples the only noise beyond his heaving. 

    “Are you just going to stare?” he growls quietly and you meet his gaze. 

    Those cerulean eyes are staring into your soul again. The lively energy ripping away at your insides as he fixes you with a steady glare. He must still be mad. You did do this to him, after all.

    You don’t say anything and instead turn down the small hallway toward the bathroom. You grab the first few towels in the cabinet beneath the sink and rush back to the living room. You mop up the acidic liquid with the fluffy towels, grimacing at the smell and touch as some of it coats the back of your knuckles. The stranger moves out of your way eventually, his knees and the bottom hem of his shirt coated with the bile. He rests his head against the seat of the sofa and closes his eyes. 

    Steadying his breath, he sits still as you pick up the dirtied towels and toss them into the dirty clothes pile near the small washer and dryer you have in the far corner of your small kitchen area. You grab a small washcloth on your way back and wet it with cool water. Ringing it out slightly but keeping it damp you make your way toward the stranger and cautiously dab his mouth. 

    His reflexes are quick to catch you, his hand on your wrist with the same blazing warmth as before. His eyes snap open and the rage within them freezes over the heat he emits. A snarl starts to crawl up his lips as he flicks his gaze to the cloth and back to your face. But just as quickly as he snatched your wrist he lets go with a huff and glances away. 

    You’re not sure if it's a sign to continue or to back away but you’re not about to back down now. You did do this to him, after all. The guilt is writhing in your stomach as you watch him. Even if you’re on your knees beside him and trying to help- the hateful gleam in his eyes makes you feel smaller than even a speck of dust. 

    Despite the fact you kidnapped him. Which he hasn’t seemed to fully process just yet. 

    “You’re starting to stare holes into my face.” he seethes and his gaze glues back to yours. “Out with it.”

    “Oh.” you swallow and back away a bit from him. “I wasn’t sure if you were okay with me still helping or not.”

    He takes a deep breath and runs a hand down his face slowly. After it falls from his chin and to his lap he shoves it toward you, palm up to the ceiling.

    “Give me the damn rag.” he growls quietly and you oblige happily. 

    He runs the damp cloth down his face carefully and you watch as he tenderly dabs at the spots near his staples keeping his burnt skin connected. 

    ‘It must be difficult..’ you think to yourself as you watch him curiously. With all those...Piercings? Staples? Did they really hold his skin up like that? Are they just for show or do they actually have a purpose? Do they hurt as much as it looks like they do? Questions filter through your mind rapidly and you find his gaze torn back to yours begrudgingly. 

    “What?” he sighs.

    “Do they hurt?” you mumble and motion toward his cheekbones and the staples that sit there. “The staples?”

    “Is it any of your damn business?”

    “It was just a question.” you sigh and accept the rag he shoves back to you. 

    He watches as you stand and drop the cloth back with the other towels. You pause near the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from your fridge. You hand it to him as you sit awkwardly to his left on the couch. 

    What are you doing, treating him like a guest and not some hostage? Your damn impulses are going to get you into some serious trouble one day. Maybe that day is actually today. 

    He just grunts as he takes the bottle and tears off the cap. He gulps down the water greedily, streams of the liquid spilling from the corners of his mouth as he doesn’t stop to breathe. 

    He must have been really thirsty. Could it be another side effect? 

    He tosses the empty bottle to the ground and huffs again. You watch as he stretches his legs out underneath the coffee table and rests his head completely against the cushion beside you. His eyes search your face with a bored expression, the dull look in his eyes nothing like the fire that had been burning before. 

    “What did you do to me.” he demands quietly. “Why can’t I use my quirk? Did you erase it?”

    “Erase it?” you quirk a brow. “I can’t do that.”

    “Then what the hell did you do?”

    “I told you before. I healed your dying ass.” you grumble. “I’m not sure why any of...this is happening now.” you motion toward the wooden floor damp with his bile. 

    He falls quiet and rolls his eyes. 

    “You better find a new line, doll. I’m getting tired of the same shit answer.”

    “If I had a better one I might consider giving it to you.” you sneer and cross your arms over your chest. “But here’s the deal. No one can know about my quirk.”

    “Are you really in any position to make demands?”

    “Are you?” you push back. 

    He doesn’t answer.

    “Exactly.” you mumble. “I’ve been hidden too long with this power doing what little I can to help those I get to. If word gets out about it there’s no way I’d be able to continue living my peaceful, dull life. I don’t know what your name or your mission is but I want no part in it. I don’t care if you’re a villain or a hero or a vigilante. All I care about is you keep quiet.”

    “So you kidnap me?” he scuffs. “Not a very heroic thing to do. Sounds a little villainous, doll face.”

    “I never said I was a hero or a villain.” you spit back. “I just want to live my life in peace. If that means I have to keep you here until you agree then so be it.”

    “So my quirk being gone isn’t an accident. You’re keeping me powerless on purpose.” 

    “No. I was telling the truth when I told you this has never happened before. I’ve never had someone’s quirk disappear and I’ve never kidnapped someone.” you mumble the last part and avoid looking at his face. 

    “Well this blows.” he sighs. “Not that I’m buying into your bullshit but let’s pretend I do. What now? You want my silence, I want my quirk back. What are you going to do about it?”

    “I don’t know-”

    “Errrrrrrrrr.” he makes a loud buzzing noise. “Try again.”

    “I already told you that I have no idea why it-”

    Another loud buzzing noise, the error sound pouring from his lips as he jabs a thumb down. You steel your nerves and collect yourself. You can’t let this bastard get to you. Not if you want his silence.

    If he wants his quirk back he’ll have to remain here until it returns. It’s the only way to monitor the differences between him and the others you’ve used your own abilities on. As much as you despise the idea you can’t think of a better one where you’re both satisfied. 

    Compromise. That’s all this is. 

    “Fine. As much as I detest the idea,” you hiss, “the only way I can think to solve both of our issues is for you to stay here so I can monitor the effects. If I keep an eye on your vitals and compare the differences to past recipients I might be able to figure out how to reverse the change. The only way to do that and not attract attention is for you to stay here until I can reverse the...incident.” 

    The man falls back to silence and you wonder if he ever even heard you in the first place. Is he ignoring you? Is he doing this just to get under your skin? If he thinks for one second that being a child and acting so impishly is the way to solve this issue then he’ll have to regain more than just his quirk when you knock him senseless! 

    “Fine.” he groans after several moments. “If you get me my quirk back then I’ll think about not letting your stupid secret slip. Not that I give two shits about it to begin with.” 

    You release a breath you never realized you were holding. Good. So at least he’s intelligent to recognize a good compromise when it falls in his lap. As much as you don’t like the idea of the stranger staying here..

    “I don’t know your name.” you say quietly. “What should I call you?”

    “I never got your name either, sweetheart.” he yawns and casts a lazy glance your way. “You first.”

    UGH.

    “You can call me Ichor. It’s what I tell other people I’ve helped to call me.”

    “Ichor? That’s what you’re going with?” he sneers.

    “Oh? And I suppose you have something better you go by?”

    “Dabi.” he breathes and rests his elbows against the cushion. 

    Well at least he has no trouble making himself at home. Ignoring the admittedly interesting name he gave you to call him you uncross your legs impatiently. 

“Considering you just emptied your stomach I’m going to bank on the fact you don’t want something to eat?” you sigh and stand from the couch. 

“Nah.” he shrugs and you take a deep breath. 

You can do this. Your quirk will probably fade from him in a couple of hours and then everything will go back to normal. No stranger living in your house, no worries about any of your business getting out into the world. 

“Tell me about your quirk.” he pipes up and gets to his feet, following behind you. 

“Take your boots off.” you scuff and look down at his dirty leather boots. 

What sounds like a frustrated breath releases from him before he balances on one foot and tugs his boot off, tossing it toward the door and missing completely. It lands halfway between the kitchen and the living room, dropped on its side. 

You raise a brow and glance back at him as he tugs his other one off and tosses it just as carelessly. You pray his feet won’t stink judging but the amount of dirt in the boots. 

“Your quirk?” he presses and hops onto one of the barstools by the island. 

“I can heal others by them consuming some part of me. It enhances their bodies to repair damage done physically- even mortal wounds that can kill. Beyond that it boosts their bodies. Quirks, senses, it’s like a shot of fast acting steroids. But I have to willingly give them the part they consume. Blood works the best.” 

“So kinda like a reverse vampire?” he mocks and you pointedly ignore the quiet chuckle he gives. 

“If that’s how you wish to see it.” you seethe. “I can over produce blood, as well. My body makes it rapidly so there are times I must take it upon myself to drain the excess.” 

You open your fridge and motion toward the bags of blood waiting to be used. 

“If I were to drink one now would you still have control of it’s boosts?” he nods toward them as you grab a handful of ingredients to start cooking. 

“Yes. They hold my essence. Although they’re not in my body currently they’re still pieces of myself.” 

“What about the effects it has on you?” 

“I can’t give myself a boost, if that’s what you mean.” you furrow your brows as you start filling a pot full of water and bring it over to the stove. 

You set the burner on medium and move to wash the vegetables you grabbed before. You scrub each one diligently as he tosses questions at you. 

“Can you bring someone back to life?” 

“I don’t know.” you sigh. “I’ve never tried. The people I reach are still alive by some standard.” 

You hate giving up this much info about your quirk but you need to. In order to get him out of your hair. 

Although you’re not sure if you can trust him to keep the secret. 

“What if I was dead?” he ponders and you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“No. I would have known.” 

“Oh, so you’re an expert in all things life and death?” he rolls his eyes. “Look sweet cheeks, you’re not a professional. You’re going off of experience. You can’t honestly tell me I wasn’t dead.” 

“Expert or no,” you hiss. “I know death when I see. I know death like the back of my hand. I’ve fought it off with my quirk. I know the fringes of fleeting life well enough to know if someone is capable of being saved or not. I haven’t tried with someone where I didn’t feel those frayed ends. And when I got to you I still could feel the threads there.”

    “Alright so what is different? Did you do something you normally don’t when saving some other poor bastard?”

“No.” you shake your head and pause. “Well, maybe. Normally I bring the bags of extra blood with me. I don’t normally give directly from the source. Maybe it’s too potent? Or maybe it’s the oxidation process that changes it? If the blood in the bags is exposed longer than perhaps without that long of an exposure it’ll change the properties.”

“Well it’s good to know you don’t normally go around bleeding on people.” Dabi scuffs and you sigh. 

“What about you, hm? What's different now compared to when you normally summon your quirk?”

“Besides the fact it doesn’t appear?” he sneers. “When I first woke up my senses were in overdrive. I thought it could have been because of the adrenaline of fighting and waking up after being knocked out. But when my quirk started...acting on it’s own, it flickered outside of my control. I could feel my body temperature rise higher than it normally does but the flames wouldn’t follow. It was suffocating.”

Overdrive.. That was definitely your quirk in action. It’s like steroids on steroids to any quirk user- when it’s not from the source directly. If it was less contained and more chaotic, it’s possible his quirk is too powerful to be contained in the state it put him in.

You turn over your arm to look at the wrist you had sliced open to feed him. The skin is puffy and red with use- and to your surprise- there’s a scar. A large, thin line that pulls from the bottom of your palm to two inches into your forearm. You can see your veins wrap around it unpleasantly, the blood running through you throbbing in your heart. But it’s interesting as you look at it further, noticing branches emitting from the scar. Has it always been so treelike? 

“You can control it, right?” Dabi interrupts your thoughts and you blink back to reality, turning to face him across the island. 

“Yes.” you nod. 

“Take it away from me.” he orders and you furrow your brows. 

“If I do that you could end up right back where you were before-”

“You’ve already done that. You put me out, girlie. But you didn’t take it all away, did you?”

You swallow nervously and hold your breath.

“I won’t take it all.” you shake your head. “I don’t want to be the reason you die if I do.”

“How sweet. But I’m not asking.” he snaps. “Do it.”

You turn your gaze to him but your anger doesn’t rise up. It doesn’t flood your system as it should. You summon your quirk, pulling at the threads that connect Dabi to you. They’re still there. You give one a tug and watch as nothing happens. He doesn’t even blink. Did it drain his energy? Or does he not feel it?

You tug another back into your wrist and watch in silence as he blinks at you.

“You’re doing it, aren’t you?” he grumbles. “Your eyes...they go red.”

You snag three more threads and his body slumps lower, his chest heaving in air as your mind grows dizzy. To pull it back so quickly and twice in one day is beyond what you normally do. Taking it away isn’t something you normally do- it’s requiring much more energy than it does to give it. 

But you push through. 

Three more strings curl back into your arm and your body threatens to give out from under you. You can feel your lungs ache for air but you can’t summon them to pull it in. You can barely focus on the scene before you as your eyelids dip dangerously close to shutting. 

“I can’t-” you gasp and release the threads you took from his body, the snap of them between you two causing both of you to tremble in the aftershocks. 

“Lack of experience or consciousness?” Dabi sucks in a breath. 

“Both?” you murmur and stumble to turn the stove off before you let your body slink to the ground. “I’ve never had to take it back.”

“I think I’m gonna nap.” Dabi grumbles and sluggishly wobbles over to the couch before he drops down on it face first.

You’re inclined to agree but your legs won’t move. Your body is demanding rest as you coil back down into yourself, the taught threads between you and Dabi tangling together into one as you lose yourself to slumber.

#dabi #dabixreader #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #bhna #mha #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi my hero academia #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #ichor

[rocorambles]

What Haikyuu characters do you think would be protective yanderes?

For me, the most protective HQ yanderes would be Daichi, Iwaizumi, and Sakusa. Here’s the breakdown of my thoughts for each:

Warnings: Yandere, Toxic relationships

Daichi

I think as an older sibling and a captain of such a crazy team as Karasuno, Daichi’s already naturally very protective of the people he cares about. Now, amplify that trait 100x for his s/o and add a yandere twist to his personality and you have a scarily protective yandere. You better always let him know where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing. He’ll also have extremely strict rules for you to follow like texting him at a specific time everyday and meeting him at the gym after practice without fail. Don’t forget to follow his rules perfectly, and I mean per-fect-ly, otherwise you’ll be in for a nasty punishment when the two of you are alone. This boy has a temper and he does not tolerate disobedience, especially when all he wants to do is keep you safe. 

Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi, in my opinion, is actually the scariest of the three in terms of being a protective yandere. It’s not so much because he himself is the most suffocating, but rather because I think his fellow third-years would fully support him and help him monitor you. After all, Iwaizumi just wants to make sure you stay safe. Why wouldn’t they help him? There would literally be no chance that you’d be able to slip up accidentally or purposefully not listen to his rules without him knowing when Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa all also have their eyes on you. The trio also have a flare for being drama queens, so if anything, they’d exaggerate their stories and rile Iwaizumi up even more. Some boy in your class just picked up your pencil for you that you dropped? Oikawa is ranting to Iwaizumi about how he flirted with you and is definitely trying to steal you away. You can guarantee that Iwaizumi will be scolding you and punishing you in front of his three best friends after practice. 

Sakusa

Sakusa is a different kind of protective, but still very protective yandere. We know this boy cannot stand anything even a little dirty. He’ll be on your ass about always wearing a mask, bringing hand sanitizer everywhere, and even wearing gloves in certain cases. He’ll have a very thorough and detailed cleaning routine for you from the way you shower, the way you brush your teeth, what cleaning products you use on yourself, and how you clean your house. And you’ll tense up every time he visits you because you can see his eyes scrutinizing every inch of the place and you watch his fingers drag along surfaces checking for dust. If he sees even a speck out of place, he’ll have you clean everything again and you’ll feel so humiliated and so small as he just stands there with his arms crossed, watching your every movement. And if he thinks YOU aren’t clean enough for his standards? He’ll take matters into his own hands and wash you himself, something you might not have minded with other boyfriends in the past, but it feels medical and robotic with Sakusa as he maneuvers you like a dirty pet he needs to clean.      

#haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #iwaizumi #daichi #sakusa #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

[askthiscpblog]

Showdown: The King vs The Jack

After months of planning and hiding, everything is ready.

As viewers of the red room came flooding in eager to watch what's believed to be the grand finale of the infamous Slaughter Show. The Cutthroat sits on an old crate withered from rot and mildew that didn't appear to be able to hold his weight.

His temporary partner waited for his command to open the seal to the room that contains his attacker from a decade ago. The monster's been healing wounds from a wolfman and a stab wound he self-inflected to save his attacker from being a happy meal to his partner.

In about 5 minutes the door will open and the Cutthroat will finally have his revenge. Even though he wanted this fight to start yesterday, he's also an entertainer. His audience has been eager for this day almost as much as he has. There are no heroes in this grand finale. Only two monsters in a cage digging their metallic fangs into each other. He's not even sure if he can win after seeing him duke it out with a wolfman. It makes no difference; only one will survive and there will be one less killer in the world.

Thirty seconds left before the grand show. The Cutthroat kept fiddling with the knife in his hand, feeling the weight of it, eyes glancing up to the door every few seconds. The one thing he has trained for the past ten years is finally about to happen. Whispering to himself, “Five…..four…..three….two-” the door flies open with a loud crack like thunder as it hits the wall. Inside the room is only darkness.  

The smiling pasty man stood at the once sealed door, ears ringing from the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. On one hand, a knife and in the other a piece of paper was a notice that the final show's today. The vein on his head pulsed, his body ready to go after his mysterious capture. Although he was at a large disadvantage when he noticed there was only one way out. That means an ambush could happen once he left, and there was nowhere to hide in the room but a mattress and a latrine bucket. There were no other shadows with the lightbulb in the middle still on.

“Hmmm...oh! Now that's an idea.” The man turned to the light, closing the door behind him. Looking at it with his ever unblinking stare, he takes an empty bucket that was in the corner and swings it at the bulb as hard as he can. A semi-loud pop rings in the room as glass shatters to the floor. The light vanished in an instant to a void of black. He then hid. Ready to pounce. His fang was ever ready to taste the crimson water of his prey. Then the door swung open slamming into the wall like an angry beast and outside was a faint light. 

The Cutthroat raises an eyebrow at the blackened room knowing full well that a light should be on, but then again he did supply his opponent a weapon. His vanquishing of the light is not that hard to believe. He hops off the box, landing on the ground without a speck of dust out of place. The rotten cube he was sitting on, yet, finally gives in and crumbles, releasing the rusted scaffolding onto the ground. He looks back and sighs. “Smooth.” He grumbled to himself. Approaching the doorway with a survival knife at hand, ready to draw first blood. 

As he enters the threshold, he swings the blade to his right to strike his opponent at once. It worked! If his opponent was there. That’s when something large and heavy hits the Cutthroat and pushes him back out the door onto his ass. 

“Shit!” He screams, seeing a mattress is coming down on him fast. 

“You looked like you’re overworked. I think you need to head to bed!” A voice called from the other end.

The Cutthroat rolled back avoiding the mattress and hopped back to his feet, but was knocked right back down. He lost the grip of his blade as a white blur charged right into his abdomen knocking the breath out of him. Then there was a sharp sting at his side, white-hot pain, and the smell of iron. Out of reflex he grabs his attacker's jacket, follows his momentum, falls onto his back, and throws him backward over his head using his legs to kick him further. His opponent was stunned for a moment and that gave him enough time to melt into the shadows to regain his breath. 

Everything was quiet. The killer gets back to his feet and looks around taking in the surrounding area. It looks like an abandoned warehouse, the walls of the building covered in what he believes a black foam. He's seen this in one of his housemates' rooms; it was meant to absorb sound. The killer’s smile grew wider, liking that his so-called host was nice enough to make sure that there will be nothing to worry about. No one coming snooping around from the racket they are making made everything more fun. He holds up his blade seeing it covered in blood. His host's blood.

“You know?! With all the big talk you were doing months ago I thought this would have been fun, but I guess I’m just too good! No wonder why you wanted me as a guest star! Your show must be shit!” The killer calls out hoping to get a response, but nothing. He huffed and started the search for his wounded prey.

In the shadows, Cutthroat slumps behind an old crate putting pressure on his new wound. He's surprised at how fast the situation turned but was a bit pleased. He's worried that this would have been a bland fight and he would come out on top. His train of thought cut short by his attacker yelling for him. A smile forms behind the mask now knowing what he's up against. He gets back up and inches his way to a spot that will give him the best flanking position. Picking up one of the many knives that's hidden in the old building, he gets into position readying his new blade in hand, waiting for the right time to strike. This may not be good for his viewers, but he needs this surprise counter attack if he wants to get a leg up on his opponent. 

As he feels the bloodlust of his prey getting near it reminded him of that dreaded day. He started to look back on what made him who he is today but shook that off. The first hint of anxiety started to bubble in the back of his head. After a minute of calming himself down, he almost missed the glint of sharp metal coming for his head. Ducking as it glanced his head, the Cutthroat delivers a counter-attack to his opponent with a cut to the stomach. It landed but was too shallow to do any real harm. The smiling man hops back, feeling the blade graze him, and now has a good view of his abductor. 

Before he was a man wearing all black. Long-sleeved zipped up hoodie with the hood up, black jeans tucked in a dark brown pair of combat boots. His hands have fingerless gloves with his pale fingers revealed. It would be hard to see someone like that in a dark room if it weren't for the pure white mask on his face. That mask had a black smile and joyful eye holes that reveal his dark green eyes that seemed familiar to the pale killer. 

“Not bad Jeff. That’s twice you got me off guard, but I guess that my fault.” The masked man speaks to him in a nonchalant tone. 

The killer that is now known as Jeff replies with a cackle. “Well, that’s what happens when you go against a pro dickweed.” 

The Cutthroat scoffs. “Pro?” He looks at Jeff’s chest not daring to meet his eyes. 

“Most of your kills are stuck in beds. If you’re a pro then I’m an Olympic…..” within mid-sentence his left wrist shifted with a knife sliding out of the sleeve and in rapid motion, he threw it at Jeff’s face. The killer’s eyes widen to the sudden attack and take a quick sidestep. When he looked back to the masked man he was right on top of him. Cutthroat strikes at Jeff’s chest with an underhand side stab as he finishes his sentence in a low raspy voice, “.... Athlete.” 

Jeff was able to adjust his body right before the blade entered his body. It missed his heart by the width of a few strands of his unwashed hair. Jeff wrenched in pain and went to retaliate with a similar blow, but the Cutthroat retreats. Getting into a basic knife fighting stance, he cursed under his breath because he knew he missed. Jeff on the other hand got a look of anger in his unblinking blue eyes, but his everlasting smile grew larger. 

“IT’S ABOUT TIME I GET TO HAVE FUN!” He bellows, the blood pouring from his fresh wound. 

--------------------------------

At the Slenderman’s manor, a boy in a green outfit sat drinking a large soda cup in a dark room with a monitor lighting up his face. He was scanning the deep web looking for any leads of the enemy or what happened to his housemate Jeff. He was more focused on the second part. Mumbling to himself as he runs through all the sites. “Junk, Junk, Junk, Save, Junk, junk……”

A knock came from the other side of his door. Before he had a chance to answer, it opens. Letting light pour inside the blackened room a woman in light blue nightgown stands at the threshold. Her raven black hair shines from the light. Her jet black eyes scan the room as she enters. 

“Anything yet Ben?” The woman asks the boy. 

He responded, “Noooope. Nothing. I personally say call off the search and say he is dead, also Jane wait till I say you can come in. It’s rude.” 

Sighing, the woman continues, “I would love to do the same too, but if he was dead then the boss would have known, also don’t give me that crap. You and the clown love intruding everyone’s rooms.” 

Ben looks at her and smiles then continues what he is doing. “You know. It’s not like Zel to keep prisoners, especially this long. Not to mention putting up with his ass.” He says a little puzzled. Jane nods agreeing with him. 

“Then who would want to kidnap the fuck”? she asked, more to herself.

“You”. Ben replied, knowing her relationship with Jeff it slipped off the tongue.

“Very funny, but let’s be serious. Who would want to take him? Ya I would, but not like anyone else has a bone to pick with…...hmm.” Jane had an unsure look from her statement as if she was questioning what she said. Her face tightens as she spaced out in thought. 

Ben watched her, raising an eyebrow to her spacing out. “Earth to Jane. Are you there? What are you thinking?” The woman blinked a few times and shook her head then looked at the boy in green. Finally replying. 

“....Lookup a red room called the Slaughter Show. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow to the request. “You do know red rooms aren’t real. Right? It’s nearly impossible to do live streaming in the deep….and who is he?” He replied wondering what she was talking about. 

“Just do it!” She snapped at him. A worried look washes over her face. Ben rolls his eyes and does his search. It took about 5 mins, but lo and behold there it was. Sight with the title with blood font called the Slaughter Show. 

“Ok. How do you know this existed?” He asked, trying to get in the chat room with the live video feed. Jane bites her lower lip to the question. Not sure if she should say. It was like this for 30 seconds until she opened her mouth. 

“Well-" she started to speak but was cut off as the screen on the monitor changed showing a chat room with several live video feeds. Ben goes to click on one and becomes a full screen. It shows what seems to be the inside of a warehouse, filled with random large boxes scattered all about, some withered and others rotting of mildew. Two figures standing at each other one in a black hoodie with a white smiling mask that reveals piercing green eyes behind it. And the one in a bloodstained white hoodie with black greasy hair, a pure white scared face with a carved smile and unblinking glare with blue eyes.

“Oh look at that. It's Jeff…..why is Jeff in a red room?” Ben asked, then looked at Jane. She has a look of hate on her face, but with her eyes full of grief she utters out a single word in a hushed tone.

"Jace….” 

---------------------------------------------

The two co-star killers standoff with one other, each blade coated in the red liquid of life. Not moving until the other does. The tenseness of the air thickens as seconds feel like days that lead to eternity. Both knowing that one will die tonight and the winner will walk away.

Finally, the smiling killer known as Jeff goes charging in for his opponent. He swings haymakers at him, not aiming anywhere, knowing it will land on his target. So long it connects, he doesn't care. 

The other man sidesteps the attack and goes for a stab to counter-attack, but Jeff slammed his right foot on the ground, swinging his left fist at the masked man, socking him dead in the face. The impact sends him stumbling back. A loud yelp comes from Jeff, screaming, “The fuck is that thing made of!?”

Regaining his footing, the man who calls himself Cutthroat rebounds at Jeff soon after, striking at his neck. Out of pure reflex, he hops back avoiding the attack by a few inches. Seeing an opportunity the killer Jeff slices at Cutthroat's hand. Blood spilled to the floor and he lost his grip on the knife from the sudden pain. Jeff then followed his attack by stomping down on his opponent’s foot and stabs into his left shoulder. A high pitched shrill manifested behind the smiling mask. Cutthroat tried to back away, but it was in vain. The blade exists the wound, leaving a hole as blood followed out of it and he went to stab again. Over years of honing his reflex's Cutthroat catches the arm with both his hands, stopping it. This is where he realized differences in their strengths. Jeff was overpowering him with a single-arm, it getting closer inch by agonizing inch. Jeff was staring into his opponent’s eyes, but they didn't gaze back at his. 

“Looks like we got to do it the old fashion way.” He whispered to himself as his left arm strikes like a viper at the man’s throat. Crushing the windpipe from his powerful grip, he held onto the man. No one ever thinks to protect their throat. Cutthroat was losing more and more space between him and the knife, his strength was depleting. As a last-ditch effort, his right arm lets go, shooting upward striking the ball of his palm right under Jeff’s nose. A jolt of pain goes through the killer’s nose and to his face reels back out of natural reaction. Cutthroat stumbles backward gasping for air that burns in his oxygen-deprived lungs. 

Fighting through the pain Jeff glared at him, but everything was blurry. The darkness of the building made it worse. All he can do is observe the gasping getting further away from him. He tries to chase his wounded foe, but ran into an iron column, falling on his ass cursing profanity as he clinched his face.

Cutthroat limped away holding the fresh puncture wound. When he heard Jeff cussing, he takes the opportunity to climb some of the crates until he was sixteen feet off the ground. He lowered himself down onto the large crate, careful to not make any noise when doing so. He also wasn't sure how stable it was, but he first assessed the wound while up there.

'Gah…. no way to stop the bleeding if I keep using my arm. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?' He thought to himself. Then he shakes his head, willing the thought away. 

'No! You didn’t kill all those people just so that you can turn tail and run…' He protested. As he finishes his thought a faint glow catches the corner of his eye. He turns with a sudden, swift movement and saw nothing but black. He takes a deep breath and sighs. 'Must be hallucinating. Not surprising.' Reassuring himself was easy, but it is still finding it hard to regain his confidence in this. Despite the feeling, he plans his next strike. He is no match going head-on, but if he can wear him down then the odds will be in his favor. He pulled back his left sleeve and smirks behind the mask.

Jeff sat on the ground in a painting daze. His nose is sore from the blow he received minutes earlier. The blow was not strong enough to break it but had enough to blind the pale murderer for a brief moment. Sight becoming clearer every passing second he picks himself up off the concrete floor. His breath coming out in huffs infuriated that he's hurt by something so weak in the fight he was winning. Forgetting about the stab wound he received earlier, he looked around the area. 

Despite his fuming anger, he could not shake the feeling that fighting his masked opponent felt familiar. Did they fight in the past? No. That can’t be. Jeff would have remembered that irritation. It felt like how he and Jane would fight. Like a feeling of familiarity when the blades clash, but why is he getting this same feeling from this guy? As he starts to lose himself in thought until something touches Adam’s apple of his throat. He snaps back to reality and his eyes shot down what looks to be a string of web, but thicker. He raised his imaginary eyelids and non-existent eyebrows widen of a shock to the realization that it was not a web, but a wire around his neck. The moment he reacted to it, the wire noose shrieked around his throat and started to lift him in that air. He flailed as a fish caught on a hook unable to free himself. Jeff’s eyes looked up for a brief moment and sees dark green eyes in the dark above.

The longer he was hanging the more he panicked and struggled, which lead the wire to start cutting in him, crushing his windpipe. He tries to get his fingers under the nose, but it’s far too tight. He then tries to grab the line to pull himself up to gain slack. His hand slips realizing it's lubricated. Cutting the wire does not do much because it was piano wire, something a knife can't cut through. Time is ticking by and he feels himself losing consciousness. As a final attempt starts to swing his body toward the creates that held the hangman. 

Cutthroat started to panic at this. Using rail as a pulley made it easier to hold Jeff off the ground, but now it’s backfiring. He has no control over stopping him and his struggling makes it more difficult to host him up anymore. He could drop down with the wire and use the momentum to rise Jeff up higher, but that can backfire in many ways. He was playing out different scenarios he can do within the span of a few seconds in his head. As this was happening, Jeff got enough momentum to crash into the creates. Holding on for a moment, he then pushed off as hard as he can with his legs separating both him and the box. The force shifted the heavy crate making the column of mildew coated cubes too unstable to balance on. The Cutthroat let go of the cable and leaped to another batch of creates that was lower, as his column crumbled to the ground like Jenga blocks. Jeff crashed down onto the hard floor knocking the breath out of him. 

Scrambling to undo the noose, he pulls it off to be able to catch his breath. It was painful, but refreshing as the air fill his lungs was the best thing he felt in a while. This was short-lived as the tower went crashing down near him. Noticing this, Jeff rolled away at the last second as it crashed where he was laying. He starts to get to his feet coughing for air until something gleamed from the dark and struck him. Pak, Pak, pak! 3 throwing knives embedded themselves in him. One in his right craft and two in the gut. Jeff gasped at this, the sudden pain flooding him, but before he could do anything a boot smashed right in his face from a flying kick, knocking Jeff right off his feet again and onto his back. Seizing the advantage, Cutthroat comes in with a curb stomp at Jeff’s head. The Grinning killer rolled out of the way right before the impact, the boot missing his face. Jeff scrambles back to his feet in an instant. Pulling the knives out of him, he armed both his hands with one each, letting the last one fall to the ground at his feet. His opponent's sudden change of tactics threw him off, but now this is how he fights. A good old knife to a knife fight. No more hiding and no more tricks.

Jeff readies himself in a semi sprinting pose. His muscles like compressed springs, set to release at any moment. As for his opposition, he is in a tighter pose, his left arm vertical in front of his chest and holding his knife close, pointing it at Jeff with his right hand.

The tension in the air as high as the two waited for whatever trigger would start the fight. Jeff stares down Cutthrought’s eyes, but no matter how long he looks at them they won't meet his. He suspected that he's informed that anyone who looks in his eyes becomes paralyzed with fear. This goes on for two long minutes until Jeff finally loses patience and sets off his muscles. Lunging himself forward at an inhuman speed, thrusting his right arm forward striking at Cutthroat’s chest. Cutthroat takes a sidestep in a 45-degree angle to his left, dodging the blade’s bite and making a quick stab into Jeff’s stomach. Jeff roared in pain as he took a few steps back. Cutthroat did not give him a chance to gain any ground between them. 

“What's the matter, Jeff? You started out pretty strong, but I guess that's the only way you could kill someone is catching them off guard.” Cutthroat says as he strikes Jeff’s chest. The pale man sides steps, causing it to miss and counterattacks for Cutthroat to dodge it like the one before. Jeff pressed on with another strike with his second blade at his heart. 

“But I know how to make it hurt!” Cutthroat raised his left arm to take the blow as it drove in deep with a quick turn to follow. Cutthroat screams out in agony at the white-hot pain of the wound tearing wider. Slamming the side of his right boot with his left, he kicks Jeff right in the shin. Jeff’s eyes widened in shock. He falls backward from his leg gives out under him. He grabs it as blood pours out of the new stab wound in it. 

“Oh, you got to be shitting me?!” Dumbfounded, he gritted his teeth as he saw the blade protruding from the boot that kicked him. 

“Gah! A bit overkill I admit, but agh! It gives me the leg u-up.” Cutthroat joked in pain as he goes for another kick. Jeff braced himself, his arms over his face taking the blow of the blade tipped boot. He gritted his teeth as it pierced the flesh, he fell on his back from the force. Jeff groaned as he tried to sit up, but crashed back down from Cutthroat’s boot stopping down on his chest. 

“What's the matter, Jeff?! I thought you put up more of a fight!” Cutthroat mocked, stomping down on Jeff’s chest over and over until something gold moved at the corner of his eye. He reacts to it, turning to see what it was and finds nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stand as he pulls out the forth throwing knife of the six he has in his jacket. He then saw the gold in his peripheral again to his left. 

'Did they find him?' He thought to himself. 

“Better finish the show before it gets canceled,” he mumbled under his breath. He turns to Jeff who is now dragging himself away from him since the Cutthroat had his attention elsewhere. He's heading to a broken crate. With a single motion, the Cutthroat threw the blade at the killer’s back, embedding itself under the left shoulder blade. 

“Fuck!” Jeff yelled, not from pain, but aggravation. The masked man starts to approach his prey to finish the job until something. No. Someone whispers in his right ear, “Hello, Jason.” 

Before Cutthroat could react, a golden string looped around his neck and yanked him back. He couldn't gasp from the shock and pain as it tightened around his airway. Cutthroat’s hands shot up to free himself from the shimmering choke cord. Grasping and digging, but he couldn't find any purchase on the string. He looked all around to find his attacker, finding nothing until he looked up. 

A transparent young-looking man floated above him. He dressed in what looked to be a grey sweater with an open black trench coat over top. His legs and feet covered with black pants and a pair of untied black and white basketball shoes. The man’s head revealed gray skin with eyes and teeth shimmer gold. His hair is black and goes to the nape of his neck with a gray beanie rest on top. His hands covered with black gloves as the golden strings come out of the tips of his fingers. He smiled at Cutthroat once they made eye contact. 

“Took a bit to find you two. If it wasn't for the live feed you were broadcasting I don't think we would ever pick up your trail.” 

Cutthroat’s movement starts to stiffen as his new puppet master pulls on the strings, making sure it was slow and methodical. He tries to reach for his last throwing knife. It was impossible as his arms were now being raised over like an old marionette doll. Fear starts to creep up to the Cutthroat’s mind. Unsure what to do as he tries to break free, desperate to get out of the situation at hand. 

Jeff looks back to see his opposition and sighs with relief, seeing one of his housemates, the Puppeteer, had arrived and caught him like a fly in a spider’s web. The pale man stands up without a sound, limping to a rotten demolished crate to pick up an old scaffolding screw covered in rust. He brandished it in his hands. His smile once again grew as he turned and made his way back to Cutthroat. The walk back was slow, so very slow. Jeff’s mind wondered during this. He imagined how he would kill this man and how he would savor the moment. How he will enjoy it when he breaks his bones and tears out inners. Now standing right before the Cutthroat, he savored watching him struggle. Cutthroat was too wrapped in the fear of being restrained to realize what was going on around him. Jeff without warning swings the hunk of iron. The point of the screw impacted the lift side of the Cutthroat’s mask, causing a crack to ring through the enclosed area. He was knocked right off his feet and the Puppeteer was so busy with the new plaything that he wasn't prepared for the sudden shift in movement. 

“Shit! Jeff! You asshole!” Puppet yelled at the smiling man from above.

The Cutthroat's vision was hazy like hundreds of gnats were flying around him. His mind was to a near blank as he is fading in and out of consciousness. He could hear noises around him. It sounded like people were arguing, but he couldn't make out the words. He lifts his left hand to his mask and feels a new puncture in it with something wet on the outside. Pulling back with care, he looks at it and tries to concentrate on what he was seeing. It was blood. The palm of his gloved hand was covered in fresh blood. His head was spinning on what happened a second ago. He tries to lift himself, but the pain in his head made him drop. He knows if he doesn't do something he will die and that all he has killed will be in vain. He reached for the flare gun he had hoisted in his jacket, making sure the other two couldn't see his movements. Right, when he was about to pull it out the arguing stopped and a voice rings out. It was closer this time where he could make out the words. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” The Strings in his arms pulled and forced Cutthroat to starfish on the ground. His hand was still on the gun, but unable to pull the trigger. 

“Damn it, Jeff! You have any idea what a dumbass you are!?” Puppet cried out in fury to him. 

Jeff waved him off. “Relax. String bean.” He stands over Cutthroat and readies himself to swing the screw leg down on his head. Looking him in the eyes one last time, but is infuriated that they would not meet his. Jeff drops the blunt object and pulls the knife from his back. Limping around and dropping his knees on Cutthroat’s arms, this caused both to wince in pain for different reasons. 

“You know? I'm getting tired of this fake smile of yours. I think it's time I give you a real one.” Jeff said as he rips the mask off revealing another smile. 

“What the fuck?” Jeff whispered in disbelief as he didn't recognize the man’s face. It was almost looking in a reflection. His skin has a natural pale tone. His hair was a clean midnight black and his mouth showed distress, but that’s not what Jeff was looking at. There at the ends of his mouth was a scared smile that reached to his cheekbones. Jeff was silent for a moment, then roared into laughter over the other man. Putting his left hand on his forehead and bend himself back. 

“No wonder why you want me dead so bad! You're just like her! Another person I failed to make beautiful!” Puppet looked at Jeff with an unamused look thinking that the Seedeater without its rag in its head is still prettier than him. The thought was interrupted as he starts to feel the flow of negative energy that was increasing every second. He looks over to see it was coming out of the pined man that he learned was named Jason. The energy was sweet but was slowing turning into a spicy bitter taste. This made the Puppeteer uneasy because both are common from Jeff and Slenderman’s proxy, Masky. 

“Yo Jeff let’s wrap this up and head back. Somethi-“ Puppet started.

“Give me a moment string bean! Let me enjoy the moment.” Jeff interrupted, wanting to savor the moment.  

Jeff leans in front of Jason’s face, inches from one another. Jason’s breathing pattern is gaining speed trying to closes his eyes out of desperation, but to no avail as that too was being controlled. Then the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs happened. Jason’s eyes locked with Jeff’s.

The smile on Jeff’s face widens even more that it looked as if it would tear his head in half. He finally got what he wanted. Now that his itch satisfied he pulls up the knife to Jason’s face and whispers three simple words, “Go.” 

Jason’s vision was melting away memories from 10 years back into the past, to the fateful day that changed and ruined his life forever. Remembering how those eyes have tortured his body, mind, and soul. How he was held down on his bed as the dark demonic figure with bulging blue eyes cut his mouth open with a sharp rusty knife as slow as he could.

As Jeff utters his second word, “To.” Puppet felt that the flow of energy turned into a torrent as if a floodgate opened. It was intoxicating to the point he felt nauseous. He side glanced at Jeff as he puts the knife on the scared smile. Puppet cries out to him. “Jeff!” 

“Sleep!” Jeff finishes his sentence and as he starts to cut a bright red flash engulfed the dark building. Puppet reared back in pain as the glow touched him from the light source. Jeff's vision goes white from the flair of the light after being in darkness since the start of the fight. He throws his hands up to his face trying to block the light then as if on cue, he's thrown on to his back from a sudden force underneath him. 

“What the?!” Jeff yelled in confusion As Jason sat up and lunged himself onto Jeff. Mounting Jeff as he did to him. Jeff’s eyes started to adjust to the light and what he saw in his blurred vision was Jace’s tear-soaked eyes that were on the face of malus. Jeff thought he had him with his paralyzing glare until he was pistol-whipped right on the bridge of his nose by the empty flair gun in Jason’s hand. Jeff’s head spun and reeled from the pain of the blow. Unsure if what happened was real. Wham! He's hit again, but this time on his left temple. The pain sends his head spinning again with the understanding of what his predicament was.

The gun comes down for another blow, stopped at the midpoint as Jeff grabbed it to keep it back. He could push it back, but this time Jason has more force in his strength that was matching his own. 

“What type of anime bullshit is this?!” Jeff howled in anger, only to be cut off as Jason started to strangle him with his free hand cutting off the windpipe with a monstrous force. Jeff strikes at Jason’s throat with his knife-hand. Jason lets go of the choking man to stop the fatal attack to avoid the fatal blow. Jeff bucks Jason off of him and stagers to get back on his feet as Jason tumbles and recovers in a kneeled position.

Jason stands up with the amazing speed and charges Jeff with his blunt weapon. Jeff goes for a side step, but his injured leg gives out from the sudden movement and the gun collides into his face, reintroducing them. Knocking him off his feet once more and landing on his right side. Jason with deft fingers pulls out another flare from his bloody jacket and starts to reload the gun and aims it point-blank at Jeff. 

The pale killer struggles to get back on his feet as the gun fired. The flair shot far to his right. Jeff looked at the flare and looks back to Jason that his firing arm is yanked away by golden strings. 

“What the hell is up with this guy? He is like a mini-you, Jeff.” The weakened Puppeteer remarked, the blast taking more out of him than he thought. That set Jason off. He screamed like gravel filled banshee and grabbed at the strings, yanking Puppet towards him. Puppet, caught off guard by this action, was a ragdoll. Jason looped around him and pulled the strings tight to the corporeal neck. This didn't concern Puppet at first because he does not breathe. Not until he was being dragged towards the light of the flare. He dismissed the strings that were holding them both and flew back out of panic. Jason loaded the third flare into the gun and fired it at the ghost. Puppet avoided the shot and retreats to a dark corner of the building to recuperate his losses. 

Seeing that the intruder fled he turns back to Jeff to meet eye to eye with only a couple of feet between the two. Jeff slams his blade into the shoulder wound that Jason retrieved earlier. Burning pain ran through Jason’s arm. He screamed out in pain letting go of the gun and lashed out at Jeff. Grabbing onto his hair he brings both his and Jeff’s into one another, headbutting Jeff’s teeth. Before Jeff can retaliate, he repeated the same action two more times before Jeff pulled the knife out of Jason and cuts his hair. Once freed from the assault he roared with rage through bloody lips as he lowered himself to Jason’s chest and tackles him with an explosive impact. Not ready for such a move both Jason and Jeff go flying to the ground. Jeff stabbed his opponent but found that it was difficult as Jason was wrestling him in a tooth and nail for the knife. Jeff socks him on the cheek causing him to screech from the pain of his scar. Jason hooked his thumb into the wound on Jeff’s chest and started to pull. This only made him scream in pure bestial rage as he bites down on Jason’s mutilated shoulder to try to tear a chunk out of the bloody meat. 

Jason shrilled in terror now seeing the monster he saw many years ago has come to reality. He throws his arm over Jeff’s head to prevent it from moving and causing more damage. Unable to shake him off and has a bad arm not able to grip the knife and his good arm holding him in place. Tears flow down his cheeks at a faster rate. He, as he was about to give up, his life flashed before his eyes. It was bizarre. How he watched memories pass by so so fast, but slow at the same time. Seeing all the past experiences shook him. How he fakes his death to his family, becoming a thing he hated and pushing Jane away. He gritted his teeth knowing that he was nothing but a failure made him grasp reality. He lets go of the knife that both he and Jeff were fighting over and grabs Jeff’s face and plunge his thumb into his eye.

Jeff spazzed out of the pain that he never felt before. He bit down harder hitting the bone in his opponent's shoulder. His screams muffled in sickening sharpish sounds. After a minute of bloody struggling, Jason’s good arm lost strength. This gave Jeff the chance to humpback like a cricket. He dropped the knife and held both his hands on to his bleeding eye socket, sitting in his blood that’s pooling around him. Jason took the opportunity to stagger to his feet. Both are now tarnished in each other's blood. He precedes to pick up the screw leg that was used on his walks to Jeff with his stimuli concealed to him. As Jason reaches Jeff he restricts the screw onto his good knee causing a sickening crack. Jeff screamed out from the new sudden pain and realized that Jason is looming over top of him. Jeff was about to lash grab the man not before has stuck in the face be the blunt weapon and knocked on to his back head first to the ground. Jason looked at the crimsoned coated construction scaffolding and tossed it to the side. He lost his balance for a moment and vision going blurry. Knowing he had lost too much blood and will die soon. He can’t help but smile that there will be two fewer killers in this world. He reached into his jacket one last time to pull out his final throwing knife. Jeff could only smile as well. A tear starts to flow down his one good eye. 

“G-good job out there…… You did a number un me.” He coughed. Jason was not expecting a response like that he thought he was knocked out. Jeff continued to speak. “W-Whatever I did to you in the past. I want to let you know. I am sorry and hope you are glad he get your revenge.” Jeff doesn’t know why he’s being sympathetic to him. Maybe this is Jeffry Woods talking to him rather than Jeff the Killer. 

Jason was lost for words. The demon that hunted him for years is speaking to him in the most somber way possible. He thought to himself for a moment. Resisting the urge to kill him outright. He smiled at the killer then finally said, “Thanks for being a part of my grand finally Mr. Woods. You were an amazing guest.” 

Jeff only laughed, coughing up blood. “Thanks for having me. Been a wild ride.” Jeff responded with weak glee.

Jason aims the knife at Jeff’s head. As he was getting ready to strike a voice in his head echoed.

'I have seen enough. Miss Angle if you please.'

Jason tries to react, but like Puppeteer it was too late. A woman with a long sword comes jumping out of the shadows and shoulder checks Jason’s in the chest knocking him back. He tries to retaliate, but she was too fast. Parrying his knife then sidesteps with downward swing chops off Jason’s arm. 

“No, NO, NOOOOO!” He screamed in a painful rage. He clicked his heels and kick into the side of the woman’s side. She hisses as the boot blade sank into her and came out. She gets into a stance with her sword at a 45-degree angle. Jason wobbles back, standing by willpower and stubbornness alone, but it was precarious at best. His vision is going in and out. Not sure how much longer he has left. He goes to take a step towards his opponent. She readies herself but drops her guard only to seeing Jason drops to the ground. Laying in his blood. Tears stream down his face. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” The world around him faded to black. 

The woman walked to Jason’s body. “Now you will be judged,” She said readying her blade to impale him only to stop at a mental command. 

'Not yet. We’re taking him back for questioning.' She looks at the tall man that dons a black suit and red tie and bears the face of a blank canvas. He holds Jeff’s broken body in his arms he turns to walk away not before an inky black cathedral protrudes from his back and snatches Jason’s severed arm from a pestle goth clothed woman.

 'You are not eating that and are in a lot of trouble!' A voice yelled in her head. 

She throws up her arms and yells in disbelief. “I wanted the chicken wing and what did I do!?” 

#ask creepypasta #creepypasta #creepy pasta #mod.a #slenderman #slender man #slenderverse #mh #marble hornets #cutthroat jace #cpoc #Char #Charlette #original characters #original character #jeff the killer #Judge angels #The Puppeteer #fanfiction #fanficiton #long post #cp fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #tw blood #tw violence

[naruwitch]

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 31: Battle of Kyushu

"Prince Schneizel, we appreciate you stepping in for Viceroy Cornelia during this time."

"When I heard about what happened I contacted the Emperor immediately," Schneizel said calmly from behind the Viceroy's desk, "I practically insisted that he leave Area 11 in my care until my sister could be recovered."

"Yes, and we're deeply grateful for your assistance. With you here, we can hopefully put a lid on this crisis!" the officer said with a bow.

"Hmmm, well I'm not sure if Area 11's forces will be enough against this Voltron threat, I do hope to at least quell the unrest as soon as possible," Schneizel said honestly.

Suddenly the doors to the office were thrown open and Lord Guilford rushed in, slightly out of breath, "Your Highness!"

Schneizel blinked, slightly startled, "Lord Guilford, what the matter?"

"Prince Schneizel, the enemy has destroyed the great Great Kamon Bridge in Kyushu block!" the knight reported gravely.

"What?!" Kanon exclaimed behind the Prime Minister, who's own eyes widened partially at this news.

"They also cut off vehicle access at four other points, and large numbers of assault landing craft are moving into the Genkai Sea!" Guilford continued.

Schneizel gasped in realization, "The Chinese Federation? Have they made a declaration of war?"

"No, Highness! The crafts are bearing the flag of Japan!"

At this piece of information, Schneizel frowned deep in thought. He had heard rumors that some of the old leaders of the Kururugi Regine had fled to the Federation. He always had a lingering suspicion that one of them could attempt an attack like this with the Chinese backing them up. It seemed they were finally playing this card.

"Send all available military personnel to Kyushu block, push them back!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Guilford said, but the knight didn't depart, meaning that there was something else to be said as well.

"Is there something else?" Schneizel bluntly, but not unkindly.

"There is sir… the military managed to locate Suzaku Kururugi…"

o~o

(Two days ago)

"I've dishonored you," Suzaku said, holding the Purple Bayard out to a shocked Allura, "I'm not worthy to be called a Paladin."

"Suzaku, this is crazy!" Milly protested, "You can't just leave! Even if what Mao said was true-"

"It is true," Suzaku interrupted, looking down remorsefully, "I can't forgive myself…"

"...Has being a Paladin become a burden for you?" Allura asked softly, still not taking the Bayard, "Something that troubles you?"

"No, I'm grateful for it," Suzaku answered honestly.

"Then why?" Allura inquired.

"What Mao said was true, I did kill my own father," Suzaku admitted sadly. Behind Princess Allura, the other Paladins plus Coran stood as well. Most of them gasped save for Lelouch who only grimaced. Coran and Allura looked the most horrified, "I was never punished for it. I just lived on like nothing happened. And right now…" the Purple Paladin looked up, emotion filling his eyes, "...I'm being protected again! Someone like me isn't worthy of being a Paladin of Voltron."

"But Suzaku," Rivalz exclaimed, "We won't be able to form Voltron without you! We need you!"

Suzaku just shook his head, pressing the Purple Bayard into Allura's hands, "There are far more worthy candidates to be Yoru's Paladin here. Like Tohdoh-sensei, or Ohgi… or even you Princess Allura. And if that's not the case, there must be someone else out there."

"Then… what are you going to do?" Shirley asked worriedly.

"I'm going back to Britannia."

This answer resulted in a ripple of protest, demanding to know if Suzaku had lost his mind, and what would he possibly gain from joining the enemy!

"What the hell Kururugi?! You know that Britannia is almost as bad as the Galra!" Kallen practically roared, "And if you want to keep up the pity party you don't have to go crawling back to them! You can work here among the ranks with us!"

"I know. And I'm not interested in changing Britannia inwardly, at least not in the way I originally wished. But at least this way, me returning can at least throw the Empire off our trail."

This reasoning had many of the group looking at Suzaku in bewilderment for a moment before he continued.

"Think about it. Seven missing students, seven Lions. Even without solid evidence, someone is bound to make a hypothesis like that sooner or later. Lelouch, you yourself said your brother is just as intelligent as you, maybe even more so. I wouldn't be surprised if Schneizel already suspects that that's the case here. And C.C. has already theorized that the Emperor is aware that you're Zero. If he can figure that out, he'll figure out who the Paladins are at some point as well. With me returning supposedly out of the blue, it will at least divert their suspicion for a little while, and it will keep our families safer."

"Suzaku…" Shirley said softly, "We don't care what happened back then! You're still a member of the team! Please-"

Lelouch's hand suddenly raised, silencing Shirley. The Black Paladin's expression was pained, but a layer of understanding swam in his eyes as well.

"Suzaku… if you really want to leave, we have no right to stop you…" he said firmly, his dark hair hiding most of his face, "But please, think about what you're doing…"

"...There's no need for that," Suzaku said softly, "My mind's been made." He then looked up and smiled as he turned away, "Thank you for everything."

With that said, Suzaku left the lounge quickly before any lingering thoughts could change his mind. He trudged to the transport hanger, where he had prepared a pod the night before.

"Suzaku!"

The Purple Paladin froze and feared to turn around. Painfully though, he did so.

At the entrance of the hanger, Nunnally had come in her hoverchair. Then incredibly, she forced herself to her feet and tried to run after him, but she only got five steps before she tripped and fell hard on the floor.

With a gasp, Suzaku put his remaining things down and ran to help Nunnally up.

"Nunnally! Are you okay?" he asked.

"Please Suzaku… please don't go!" Nunnally begged, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. Looking deep into them, Suzaku's resolve dangerously wavered.

His own eyes grew moist as he gently picked Nunnally up and set her slowly back on her chair.

"Suzaku…?" Nunnally asked, looking up at him in confusion. He then enveloped her in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Nunnally," he whispered, a small tear trickling down his face

"Huh?" the girl gasped as he pulled away. He all but sprinted to the pod, eyes refusing to look back.

"Suzaku, wait! Come back!" Nunnally shouted, trying to propel the chair forward, but it wouldn't budge. When he had gone to hug her, Suzaku had switched the movement function on the chair off.

"No!" she could only wail as she watched the pod's front close before rocketing out of the launch bay and disappearing from sight.

o~o

Suzaku gasped awake with a jerk. Nunnally's cries of despair and desperation still rang in his head. It took a few seconds to remember where he was as his eyes adjusted to the interrogation chamber he was being held in for the time being.

The second that he contacted the military, Suzaku was immediately taken in for questioning and all of them were ones that he was expecting. Where had he been for the last few months? Where were the other Ashford students? Were they kidnapped, and if so did he have any information on the captors?

Fortunately, Suzaku had been prepared for this. From the moment he decided to leave he thought of a story that he hoped would sound believable. It was true, he was with the six other still-missing Ashford students at Lake Kawaguchi where they were declared missing shortly thereafter.

He said he didn't remember much, but when the seven of them had decided to hike one of the trails, they were jumped by a group of masked assailants. The attack had been so sudden that he hadn't had time to defend himself. Later he would learn that he was actually the first of the group to be taken out. They were taken to a facility and were carefully monitored, given strict diets and 'training' schedules. They were given slots of 'social time' to interact with one another, and he reported that all of them appeared as healthy as he had been. He also suspected that they had been moved around a lot because he remembers times when he would suddenly blackout in his 'room' where a 'caregiver' would watch him eat his meals. They wouldn't leave the room until every speck of food had been eaten.

When asked how he got away, all he could say was that he must have gotten lucky. During one of the moves, the medicine they used to knock them out must not have worked for some reason. He woke up when they were being put into transports. He waited for the right opportunity to jump the captors and get away. He added that he had tried to take Lelouch with him, since he believed the captors didn't know his identity as a prince, and feared for his safety if they ever found out, but Lelouch had instead told Suzaku to find help. Dragging him along would just slow him down. So long as one of them got away the better.

Suzaku had no clue if the soldiers questioning him bought his story or not, but they weren't treating him like a criminal at the moment, so he could only hope it would remain that way. He just prayed that he threw any suspicions of the Paladins identities off for the time being. If anything, he at least bought them a little time.

His reminiscing was interrupted when he heard the doorknob to the room jiggle. He looked up just in time to see a pink blur practically tackle him out of his chair.

"Wha-?" Suzaku gasped before his brain registered who it was.

Euphemia broke off and dusted herself, blushing slightly from the display.

"It's good to see you again, Suzaku," she smiled.

"Euphie..it's good to see you too," he smiled back.

"Well, well, it seems you're quite the lucky man, Suzaku," a cheery voice sounded from the doorway. Looking up, Lloyd, Cecile, and, to Suzaku's honest surprise, Nonette were all standing in the doorway, each smiling, looking glad to see him.

"Suzaku, we're glad to see that you're alright," Cecile said, "the military and police have been looking for you and the others night and day."

For some reason, Suzaku didn't quite believe that. Sure, he was sure that Cecile was being honest from what she knew, but… it was more likely that the military was searching non-stop for Prince Lelouch day and night. While he wasn't sure about the other students, he doubted the military or other authorities would have given a damn if he showed up dead on the street.

To his surprise though, Nonette actually politely bowed to him in the traditional Japanese greeting, "It's an honor to officially meet you, Warrant Officer Kururugi. Earl Asplund and Miss Croomy have spoken very highly of you and your skills as a pilot."

Still partially stunned by such a formal greeting, Suzaku eventually nodded, "Thank you. I've been told you're quite the skilled pilot yourself, Lady Enneagram."

"Please, Nonette is fine," the knight shook her head, "we might as well treat each other as equals if we're going to be working together."

"Working… together?" Suzaku questioned cautiously, not quite understanding what the Knight of Nine was saying.

"Indeed," another voice said from behind the others. Looking up, Suzaku was completely shocked to see Lelouch's half-brother, Schneizel el Britannia walk in with a polite smile. In his hand he was carrying…

"...But… I thought Nonette had started piloting it?" Suzaku protested as he stared at the Lancelot key in the prince's hand.

"That is true, however, Lloyd's data doesn't lie either," the prince argued pleasantly, "You're the only other person with the skills needed to pilot the Lancelot. Besides, there's another project that I've requested Lady Enneagram's assistance with. It may be difficult to believe thanks to… some officers' views, but you are a skilled and valued soldier… Major Kururugi."

Suzaku gasped as his eyes shifted between Euphie, Nonette, Lloyd, and the key in the Prime Minister's hand.

o~o

"We hereby declare the resurrection of Japan as a lawful, independent, and sovereign nation!" the voice of Sawazaki rang over the Castle's monitors as the many of the residents listened to the latest news report of the attack in the Kyushu area.

"Atsushi Sawazaki, leader of the forces that have occupied the Fukuoka military base, was Chief Cabinet Minister of the Kururugi Administration in the former nation of Japan," a man's voice immediately followed.

"After the war, he fled to the Chinese Federation, but is apparently making his move now in response to the recent civil unrest caused by Voltron and Zero." Pictures of both Lelouch's mask identity and Voltron itself flashed on the screen.

"Whether the Black Knights or Voltron have played a role in these unfolding events is still under investigation."

"What the hell?! We're not part of this!" Tamaki shouted in anger. Ohgi, Kaguya, Coran, Kallen, Allura, and Lelouch watched the broadcast carefully.

"Kaguya, was Kyoto aware that this was going to transpire?" Allura asked the girl sternly.

"No," Kaguya answered immediately, "They were completely thrown off guard as well. They were just notified about his unilateral claims over the Sakuradite mining rights."

"I see…" Allura nodded in acknowledgment before turning to Lelouch, who was looking critically up at the screen, "Lelouch, what is our next move? Should we attempt contact or make a statement perhaps?"

"I wouldn't go jumping on that bandwagon just yet," Lelouch decided, "The fact that Sawazaki is being assisted by the Chinese Federation is troubling on its own. It's more likely that he's being used as a puppet for that faction to take Japan for themselves."

"Lelouch, if I may," Coran spoke up, "when you first informed us of your planet's conflict, you seemed to make it clear that Britania and this Chinese Federation certainly aren't allies. If this attack makes them Britannian's enemy, wouldn't that make them an ally for us? What's the saying the humans use? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?'"

"I don't know," Kallen admitted, "From what I've heard the Chinese Federation isn't that much different from Britannia. Isn't that right, Ohgi?"

"As far as I know that is the case," he nodded.

"While it's true that the Federation and Britannia are at odds right now, politically wise, their government isn't too different from Britannia," Kaguya explained, "The Chinese Federation is still an Imperial Monarchy. Officially the Emperor or Empress is the leader, but… the most recent Empress, Tianzi, has little to no power at all. The High Eunuchs are the ones with the power. She acts more as a figurehead. If you look at it a certain way, the Chinese Federation is seen as more of an oligarchic system than anything else. This doesn't make them too different from Britannia's Royal Family… no offense to you Lelouch."

"None taken."

o~o

Meanwhile in the coast of the Kyushu bay, a fierce storm was blowing through the area. The winds were so strong that it was preventing the Britannian forces from calling in any air support. They had no choice but hold out until the storm passed or calmed enough for Knightmares equipped with float systems to sweep in.

"It's a stroke of good fortune that this storm hit," General Tsao, a high ranking general from the Chinese Federation commented victoriously, "We must use it to tighten our grip on Kyushu."

"You see, General Tsao?" Sawazaki boasted proudly next to him, "Heaven is on our side. We're going to prevail in this battle with ease."

o~o

"Martial law is not necessary — such measures would only upset and frighten people," Prince Schneizel calmly reasoned with the two officers in his office, Darlton being one of them, "Contact E.U. Foreign Minister Gandolphi. Oh, and put a call in to the Toromo Agency in Cambodia."

"Prince Schneizel, using the Toromo Agency could be of–"

Darlton wasn't able to finish when the doors to the office opened and Princess Euphemia entered.

"Prime Minister," she stated.

"Yes, Euphie?" Schneizel asked gently as the generals parted to let her through, "Something wrong?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, "I'm still the Sub-Viceroy of Area 11. There must be a way I can assist you."

"Thank you. Just your offer to help me is more than enough," Schneizel answered with a smile.

"But I…" Euphemia protested.

"Before her capture, Viceroy Cornelia ordered you to be kept out of as much military conflict as possible, Sub-Viceroy," Darlton informed her.

"She did…?" Euphie asked sadly, looking down at her feet.

"Uh, no, Sub-Viceroy, let me correct myself," Darlton amended when he saw the princess's expression, "it's just that-"

"Please, understand, Euphie," Schneizel spoke up, "We've already lost Cornelia. If something were to happen to you as well…"

"Wait, you don't really think-" Euphie gasped.

"There hasn't been confirmation of that yet," Schneizel explained carefully, "but the situation is simply too treacherous to take any chances right now."

Euphemia struggled to hold back tears as the feeling of hopelessness rolled over her. Once again she was being forced to the sidelines again. She had never felt so useless before.

"Darlton, concerning the matter we were discussing, I know someone who has a way in with them, so I will ask for help," the prince explained.

"Yes, Your Highness," the general nodded.

o~o

"Man… how long is she going to stay in there?" Rivalz groaned as he leaned against the wall across from Shirley's room.

Not long after Suzaku left the ship, Shirley had abruptly run to her room and locked herself inside. No matter who knocked on the door, or for how long, she refused to open up to them. She didn't even come to dinner that evening or breakfast that morning. Even the plate of food goo that they had left outside her door remained untouched. Everyone was worried about the Orange Paladin, but it was understandable. After all… she had killed someone.

At the moment, Rivalz and Milly were camping outside her room. They had been for the past hour, but no matter how many times they knocked, and even demanded to be let in in Milly's case, Shirley remained silent, stubbornly refusing to answer.

Before Milly could respond, Rai and C.C. came around the corner, with Arthur trotting along beside them as well.

Rai's looked between the door and two teens outside it. Then he sighed, "That bad, huh?"

"Well, what exactly did you expect?" C.C. asked bluntly, "It was bound to happen sooner or later. Shirley may have good intentions, but her mentality is certainly not that of a soldier."

"It's not like we're not willing to help her," Milly argued, "but if she doesn't talk to someone…"

Rai frowned sadly and looked at the door again.

"...I can handle this. Could you give us some space?" he finally asked before standing in front of the door.

Reluctantly, Rivalz, and Milly slowly picked themselves up and left. C.C. did as well shortly after. Once they were out of sight, Rai felt something nuzzle his legs. Looking down, he saw Arthur rubbing up against his ankle, before looking up at the Green Paladin with a soft 'mrow.'

With a small smile, he knocked lightly on the door.

"Shirley, it's Rai. Can I come in?" he asked cautiously.

It took several seconds, and for a moment Rai thought that Shirley wouldn't answer, until finally, he heard the small buzz of the door unlocking. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he entered with Arthur trailing close behind.

Rai easily spotted the Orange Paladin, sitting on her bed hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes looked hollow and there were dry tear marks on her cheeks. Looking up, he noticed that two of the trash nebula creatures were floating close by, but from the sounds of their squeaks, they hadn't been successful in lighting Shirley's mood at all and seemed relieved that someone else had finally come.

Arthur actually made the first move, immediately leaping onto the bed and settling snuggly at Shirley's side, purring softly.

Following the cat's lead, Rai slowly approached her other side, cautiously sitting down, and - after silently debating with himself - draped an arm around her shoulders. Shirley didn't react and Rai took that as a good thing. At least she didn't start screaming or demanding for him to get out and leave her alone.

There was a heavy silence in the room for a while as Rai tried to figure out how to start talking. The only noise was Arthur's soft purring and the occasional squeak from one of the fuzzy aliens.

"...You made the right call in there," he finally said, "if you hadn't done it, Mao would've killed Lelouch and blown up the Castle. And who knows what would have happened to the Lions… You saved everyone."

"...I know that," Shirley mumbled softly, seeming to tighten her grip around her legs, "I know that he was evil, and if I hadn't, I… but… I-I can't handle it!"

She finally moved, letting go of her legs, and burying her face in her hands.

"C.C… she warned me that this could happen!" she sobbed, "She warned me that I'd have to do it eventually! But… I-I don't…"

"You just don't know if you can handle it, right?" Rai finished for her softly.

Shirley whined, practically collapsing against Rai's shoulder. He gently ran a hand down her back, waiting for her sobs to calm before speaking again.

"I understand. I've killed a lot as well," he said honestly, but not proudly. Shirley looked up at him, surprise shining in her eyes. He smiled bitterly, "Don't look so surprised, I'm a gladiator, remember?" Shirley's shoulders slumped as she remembered that detail about her crush.

"Anyway, I don't… I don't remember much about what happened while I was there," Rai continued, "but, I do know that every time I was put out there in the ring, each fight was either live or die. Only one of us would walk out of there still breathing. Some were bad, other gladiators like me, who actually enjoyed killing. Others… others were simply other prisoners, trying to survive just like me. All for Zarkon's entertainment…"

Shirley peaked up at his face. It was holding a pained frown and his eyes were haunted.

"Whenever I sleep... I always see myself in that same pit again. There's so much noise; all the spectators yelling and cheering... The monsters I fight roaring at me... And all I have is a sword, sometimes half a sword. I'm only given armor or even a shield for 'special' fights. I look up, and I see that monster sitting on his throne, his eyes baring down on me like the devil. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm facing an enemy that wants me dead. But... I do it. I endure it. Because my life doesn't end here. I have people that I love waiting for me, people I want to protect. I have my mother and my sister, but now it's more than just that."

He leaned back and smiled, though it looked fairly forced from what Shirley could see, "Now I have Allura, Lelouch, Kallen, Suzaku, Rivalz, Milly, Coran, and so many others... I got you to Shirley. And I know you have the same thing. You have people who love you, people who care about you, people that are worth protecting. Mao is not going to be the only one. We're probably going to fight people that we might have to kill, if not to save our own lives, but maybe even so many others. If we can avoid it, great; but if not, we have to do it. Taking someone's life is never easy, and it's something you never get used to. Something you shouldn't get used to. But as long as you have faith in the people who are willing to help you share that burden, and the cause that you fight for, then you'll never stray from your path. I already know what I'm fighting for, what you are fighting for?"

Shirley felt tears gather in her eyes again, but they weren't of sorrow. Rai's speech had really touched her and helped her see a different perspective of everything. Yes, the guilt of what she did didn't leave, it likely never would, but a mix of the Green Paladin's words and Arthur's constant purring dampened it.

Speaking of Arthur, the cat took the opportunity to climb onto Shirley's lap, curling up tightly.

Shirley remained silent for a moment, before she clenched her fists, eyes lighting up in determination.

"I want to fight to protect the weak. I'm a Paladin of Voltron!" she exclaimed.

Rai smiled proudly as he wrapped her in a warm embrace.

"Thank you, Rai," she whispered.

"Anytime," he replied.

o~o

"Hey…"

"Oh, hi!" the newly named Chigusa smiled as she greeted Ohgi who rounded a corner of the hallway into the kitchen. The amnesiac had been sorting through various seed packs that the Paladins had brought back from Earth when they had dropped the Black Knights off. In hopes of providing a more diverse, but still slightly familiar diet to the crew, the Paladins discussed with Coran and the Princess of starting a greenhouse in one of the more temperature-controlled rooms and possibly bringing up some chickens and cows in a different room for some eggs, milk, and protein as well. The idea certainly seemed to intrigue the Alteans and they agreed to give it a shot at the very least.

Most of the crew had returned after learning what happened, and it became clear that just because they were in space didn't mean that they were untouchable. Yes, the Galra could come at any time, and Rakshata and her team, along with Coran, were working rigorously to get a space Knightmare ready for testing. However, the fact that Mao managed to sneak onto the ship was still baffling. Although the Castle's security was high for most unknown lifeforms entering and exiting the ship, the crew started a rotation where at least one Black Knight was on camera duty at all times.

The Paladins eventually came to the conclusion that Mao must have snuck onto one of the Lions while they were on Earth. Why none of the Lions had reacted to an intruder entering them was another mystery, but then again it was exactly how C.C. managed to sneak on board Polaris in the first place as well.

If any good things came out of the situation, it was that Ohgi noticed that Villetta-no Chigusa he had to remind himself- seemed to be more at ease around the others on the ship, which honestly surprised him. Perhaps it was because they showed that they did care for her safety, despite her status in her lost memories. He was personally happy with the new name too, and thought it was adorable that Nunnally had been the one to pick it. She had good taste.

"Look," he said, hesitating for a second, "I realized I never personally apologized for what happened the other day. I was put in charge of keeping an eye on you, and you almost got killed. So… I'm sorry."

Chigusa shook her head, "You don't need to apologize Kaname," she said reassuringly, "sometimes things happen that are out of our control. Unless you personally asked Mao to kidnap me, none of this is your fault."

"Well… still, I wish there was more I could do," he admitted, "I'll admit, I feel pretty useless right now. I mean, the only ones that can actually go out and fight are the Paladins right now until we can get some Knightmares up and running."

Chigusa chuckled, "Well if you're looking for something to do, you can help look through these seed packs. I'll admit my Japanese is a bit rusty, and some of these are in your language."

"Oh, sure," he smiled, walking over to the counter.

o~o

Suzaku scratched his arm as the tight fabric of the Lancelot suit irritated his skin. A folder lay in front of him at the table inside of the Camelot division's quarters. A mission briefing to be exact. The second that the current storm showed signs of letting up, Suzaku was to take the Lancelot into battle against Sawazaki and push him and the Chinese Federation troops back. A mission perfect for the Lancelot. He would be able to clear a path for the rest of Britannia's forces to swoop in and finish the job that way.

The door opened next to him and Cecile walked in with a pleasant smile.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said, holding out some tea and rice balls to him.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Cecile," he said graciously, taking one of the rice balls. If Suzaku was honest, he really missed the taste of his native country's cuisine. He hoped the greenhouse project worked out back at the Castle so that the other Paladins could have a piece of Earth back with them as well.

Cecile smiled warmly as Suzaku ate. He had to restrain himself from devouring the food. Miss Cecile was a great cook.

"Suzaku, just so you know, I really am glad that you're alright," Cecile said honestly, "We spent every spare minute we could looking for you and those friends of yours."

Suzaku smiled. He could tell that Cecile really meant what she said. "I appreciate it, Miss Cecile. And I want to thank you as well. Ever since I got here, you've always been kind to me, even though I'm an Eleven. I'm really thankful for everything you've done."

"Oh, I really didn't do that much," she denied, "Honestly, most of the time I'm sad that I can't do more, but I can tell that you're a good person, Suzaku. Despite what most of the rest say, I don't really care about Britannia's views on race. I personally think the whole number system is stupid. In my eyes, you're a person who wants to change the world for the better, and I assure you, you'll have my support no matter what happens."

With a final smile, Cecile turned and left to let Suzaku finish his food.

"No matter what, huh?" he muttered, glancing down at the key to the Lancelot. For a moment, the small drive disappeared, being replaced by the cool handle of the Purple Bayard.

He'd admit the time he spent with the other Paladins had been a pleasant reprise. He'd honestly felt happier than he had in a long time simply being there with everyone. Just… being be.

Which was why a sin like the one he carried shouldn't drag them down. Though he was no longer a Paladin, he would work on his end to help achieve peace for Earth and the universe. That was the best he could do now… right?

o~o

"Princess, you wished to see us?" Tohdoh asked as he and the Four Holy Swords entered the lounge she had specified over the intercom. Waiting with her were Kallen and Lelouch, who gestured to the couches behind them.

"Please have a seat," Lelouch invited and waited patiently for them to settle.

"We'll get straight to the point," Allura said promptly, "Regarding this Sawazaki character's actions in Kyushu, we wish to get your personal opinions on the situation. Would it wiser to view him as a potential ally or an enemy as of now?"

"Sawazaki was always a coward," Chiba responded immediately with a scowl, "He may have supported the movement for Japan to fight after surrendering, but the second he got he fled to the Chinese Federation with barely any warning at all."

"True," Urabe nodded, "And neither Kyoto nor the JLF had heard a peep out of him up until now."

"How do the kids put it nowadays? 'All bark, no bite?'" Senba quipped bitterly.

"Most likely, the Chinese are using Sawazaki for their own agenda," Asahina agreed, "He's just a front. I have no doubt that he cooked up some sort of agreement with them in order to get them to cooperate. Who knows what'll happen should this siege succeed."

The three nodded, taking in the information. A couple more questions followed, regarding Sawazaki's loyalty to Prime Minister Kururugui and other actions during the Pacific War. As more information was gathered, the more Lelouch saw that Sawazaki was more like a rat who preferred to work in the shadows, and only strike when the enemy's guard seemed down. While a decent strategy, it was a cowardly one as well, just like Chiba first said.

After feeling like they gathered all they could, Lelouch nodded, "All right, thank you. Now if you everyone doesn't mind, there's something I want to discuss with Tohdoh in private."

"You sure?" Kallen asked.

"Yes, please," Lelouch nodded firmly.

Reluctantly, everyone slowly trickled out of the room, with Kallen lingering a moment longer at the door before finally stepping out, the door sliding shut behind her.

"Can I assume that what you want to talk to me about is what happened to Suzaku's father?" Tohdoh asked calmly, looking at Lelouch expectantly.

"Yes," Lelouch nodded, "We got the gist of it thanks to Mao, but I want to know what really happened if you're willing to explain."

Tohdoh sighed wearily before speaking, "Well, as I'm sure you're already aware, Prime Minister Genbu Kururugi did call for a do-or-die resistance when Britannia invaded. Suzaku feared that this would lead to the deaths of millions, which of course it would, and he attempted to oppose his father and convince him to change his mind. However, the Prime Minister was one of the most stubborn people I ever met, and he refused. When it became clear that reason was no longer an option, Suzaku raised a knife against him, but even then, Genbu called his bluff. I don't think I need to elaborate further about what happened afterward."

"Suzaku used that knife and killed his own father with it," Lelouch confirmed with a grim frown.

Tohdoh nodded once, "When that happened, Kyoto made up the yarn of the Prime Minister's suicide, in order to protect Suzaku. If the truth ever came out, the Japanese citizens would no doubt attempt to take revenge, even though he was still a child. Not long after, Suzaku went on to join the Britannian military, making claims of creating a change from the inside."

"In reality, he sees it as his penance, correct?" Lelouch guessed, "A way to atone for an unforgivable crime he committed."

Tohdoh remained silent, but Lelouch didn't need an answer to know that he was correct.

With a sigh of his own, Lelouch got to his feet, "Thank you."

Just as he reached the door, Tohdoh spoke, "You've changed Lelouch. When I first met you, you were a small, spiteful boy that was always angry at the world. Now, I don't see that child. You've grown into a leader that people can trust. And includes myself."

Lelouch smiled and glanced back at the Colonel as the doors slid open.

"Thanks."

o~o

'A figurehead,' Euphemia li Britannia pondered as she gazed up at a portrait of her late brother Clovis, 'that's all I was from the start. I knew that, but I thought if I gave my best effort, maybe I could make some difference. Forgive me, Clovis. I met Zero face-to-face but I didn't avenge your death… I have to think of some way to save Lelouch and Nunnally, but how? I don't have the kind of power that my sister had. I'm not like her or Schneizel. No matter where I go, I'm just a burden, and I act selfishly, though I don't mean to… maybe if I had tried harder, Cornelia wouldn't…'

Euphemia choked back a sob as thoughts of her sister, and her unknown status lurked in her mind. It was agonizing to not know if Cornelia was alright, or even alive right now. She was sure that Lelouch wouldn't kill her, but as for the other Black Knights, she wasn't so sure. They technically had the right to do it, considering the damage Cornelia had brought to their home.

"Sister, please hold on for me…"

o~o

"Oh yeah, they told me about you," the museum's security guard said, looking at the form that had been handed to him, "You need to get the document signed today, right? But a member of the Royal Family is viewing the art right now."

"Huh? Which member is it?" Nina Einstein asked.

o~o

"Wait, so you're saying…" Tamaki began as he and the rest of the Black Knights looked up at Zero from the ballroom floor. Lelouch with his Zero guise on was standing at the top of the chamber's steps, the remaining Paladins, Allura, Coran, Kaguya, Tohdoh, and Ohgi by his side. Nunnally was also there, with Sayoko and C.C. by her side.

"We aren't going to collaborate with Sawazaki. He's not independent, he's a puppet of the Chinese Federation." Lelouch stated.

"But he says he's fighting for Japan," one of the Black Knights protested below.

"Japan would get a new name and a new master but nothing would change," Lelouch leveled his head, "His Japan is a sham."

"Yeah…" Asahina said, "so what you're really saying is…"

"That when Britannia strikes back we play dead?" Urabe finished.

"Zero," Tohdoh said, "Perhaps you should clarify our goal."

"Yeah," Ohgi agreed, "I mean, preparing for the Galra's arrival is clear, but how exactly are we going to do that?"

The Black Paladin's answer shocked everyone.

"Our first step is making Japan an independent nation."

"Independent?!" Kallen's eyes went wide as she stared at Lelouch, along with most of the rest of the Paladins.

"Is he serious?!" Rivalz gasped.

"A nation?!" Asahina exclaimed.

"You mean us?!"

"An independent country?!"

"Wait a minute!" Ohgi stepped forward. "No matter how much the Black Knights have expanded-"

"Our enemy is an empire that controls one-third of the world. And the Galra are an alien race that has conquered almost the entire universe!" Chiba finished.

"We can't pull that off alone!" Tamaki stepped forward.

"We must!" Zero countered, "We must send a message to not just Britannia, but the Galra as well! And that is this: You don't need to be a super-power to be strong and stand on your own two feet. However, creating an independent country is only the first step! The second is to build a coalition of nations to unite Earth together! That includes both the smaller countries and other superpowers, as well as those from Britannia. Only then will the final stage be accessible. A truly united Earth, where there are no more divisions. Simply one planet with one people standing together. Though separate nations will continue to exist, we'll stand united. Only then can Earth take the next step of becoming part of the Universe!"

o~o

The sun began to set behind the horizon as Princess Euphemia's transport began to depart the museum.

"Princess Euphemia!" Nina screamed desperately as she attempted to run past a security guard, only to be grabbed roughly from behind.

Euphemia gasped from inside the limousine as Nina was wrestled to the ground.

"Secure the perimeter!" the head guard ordered, ignoring Nina's protests, "Code Delta! We have a Code Delta!"

"Please!" Nina begged, "I just want to- Princess Euphemia! To get-a look at her!"

"Secure all exits!" Another guard shouted as several more began to surround the distraught student.

Looking bewildered at the sight, Euphemia gasped as recognition spread across her face. That was the same girl from Kawaguchi. The one she saved from those JLF terrorists.

"We got a suspicious girl at the building's perimeter!" more shouts followed as Nina's tears fell freely down her face.

"Stop it!" Euphemia ordered, stepping out of the limo, "That girl is a personal friend of mine!"

o~o

"Wow, Lelouch, I honestly wasn't expecting that bombshell to be dropped in there!" Rai commented as the Paladins, accompanied by Allura, Coran, C.C., Nunnally, Sayoko, and Kaguya, returned to the bridge.

"It makes sense though when you think about it," Milly continued, "You gotta lay the foundation somewhere as they always say."

"While this development has truly uplifted the spirits of the Black Knights, there is still another problem," Allura said, sad to have to return to this topic. "Without Suzaku to pilot his Lion, it is impossible to form Voltron. And we can not win this war without him."

"Meaning, we either need to choose a new Paladin or somehow convince Suzaku to rejoin us," C.C. concluded.

"Well, we obviously aren't going to replace him, right?!" Rivalz exclaimed, "I can't think of anyone else that could pilot Yoru as well he can!"

"Even so, Rivalz," Kallen murmured, "It's like Lelouch said the other day. We can't force him to stay. Plus, doesn't our bond as Paladins rely on willingness and trust too? It's something like that, right Coran?"

"Indeed," the older Altean nodded, "the only way Voltron can form properly and function at all is because you all trust one another. You have no doubt of your loyalty. However, with this secret now out in the open, I wouldn't be surprised that if we forced Suzaku to stay, that would have greatly affected or damaged the Paladin bond, making it that much harder to fight. Why even the bond he developed with his own Lion could have been damaged."

Lelouch grimaced at that. He knew exactly what that felt like. After all, he went through the exact same thing after they invaded Zarkon's main base. If he was being honest, a small part of him was still wary of Zenobia's loyalty to him. Whether his bond with her was really strong enough to overcome Zarkon's.

"So… what do we do then?" Milly asked, scowling a little, "It seems… it seems wrong to replace him just like that. I mean, wouldn't us doing that only solidify his decision to stay away? It would just prove to him that he's replaceable when he's not!"

"When you think about it though, a lot of what we learned from Mao's actions makes sense regarding Suzaku," Lelouch murmured.

"What do you mean?" Rai asked.

"He's at odds with himself... because he used to be different," Lelouch continued, remembering the younger Suzaku at the Kururugi Shrine, "He never placed any importance on another person. Why, it was tough enough for me to kill my half-brother. But Suzaku killed his father when he was only ten years old, and he's been carrying that burden around all these years…"

"I can't imagine the pain he's been in all this time," Allura said softly.

"Just killing someone in general…" Shirley whispered, looking sadly at her feet, her eyes haunted, "I mean… I'm the one that did it. I killed Mao. Someone I knew was a homicidal maniac. But even still knowing that…"

Silence followed, a heavy weight seemed to hang in the air as they thought of their missing friend. Their missing brother. They wanted to help him, but how could they…

"Hold on," Rai suddenly said, "There's something I still don't get. Even if Suzaku didn't want to be a Paladin anymore, worthy or not, why did he choose to go back to Britannia of all places? He could easily have been absorbed into the Black Knights as a ground soldier or pilot. Heck, he could have simply stayed on the Castle as a tenant if he really wanted to. Plus, I doubt his main reasoning was simply to help cover up our identities…"

Lelouch grimaced. He had a theory, and it wasn't a pretty one.

"Do you all remember when I told you how C.C. and I met, way back in Shinjuku? When I got my Geass?" Lelouch questioned.

Everyone's eyes were suddenly on him, dubious expressions on their faces.

"Yeah… you said Suzaku was there too," Rivalz remembered, "he helped you and C.C. get away."

"Well, that is true," Lelouch nodded, "but… there's a little more to it than that. And now that I know Suzaku's secret, it makes so much more sense now."

"What happened?" Kallen asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, shortly after C.C.'s canister opened, and after Suzaku revealed who he was to me, there was a group of soldiers directly under Prince Clovis's command that found us and cornered us. They knew what the real mission was, which was to recapture C.C., but Suzaku had been briefed that it was poison gas that had been stolen. So he was just as surprised as me when C.C. came tumbling out instead."

Kallen couldn't quite hide the grimace on her face as he memory of that day flashed in her mind again, but she held her tongue as Lelouch continued.

"Anyway, despite the fact that it was clear that I was a Britannian student, the captain ordered Suzaku to kill me. To not leave any witnesses. But Suzaku refused to follow that order and defended that I had nothing to do with this. He was practically begging for them to let me go… He knew… As a Britannian soldier, especially an Honorary Britannian, an Eleven, that defying an order like that would have consequences. Deadly consequences."

"...It's a death sentence," Milly was the one to say it aloud.

"Exactly," Lelouch nodded, "Suzaku knew that all too well. He made no attempt to stop them either. Didn't even resist. Why he was even smiling when the captain shot him."

The sense of foreboding seemed to triple in the room, as all the occupants came to a terrifying realization, but none of them dared to speak aloud.

Nunnally, who had stayed quiet for most of the conversation along with Sayoko, swallowed back bile from the sick feeling she had in her stomach.

"Lelouch... what... what are you saying...?"

The Black Paladin's answer felt like a guillotine's blade falling.

"He wants to die."

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room - even C.C. looked stunned. It was only then that the horror of the situation was truly realized.

"He thinks if he dies for a cause he believes to be right, it might redeem him," Lelouch continued, "You all heard what he said when he left, he wants to be punished for what he did."

"We can't let that happen!" Nunnally blurted out, leaping to her feet. Sayoko tensed, ready to catch the girl if she started falling, "We have to help him!"

"Yeah, this… isn't there some sort of medical term for this?" Shirley asked.

"Medical term?" Coran asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, it's called 'Survivor's Guilt' on Earth," Rai elaborated, "It's when a person has feelings of guilt because they survived a life-threatening situation when others didn't. It goes hand-and-hand with PTSD too. Usually, this should be a fairly natural reaction if something bad happens, but this is being taken to the extreme."

"I do know that a lot of war veterans go through something like that at some point," Milly added.

"Still, Suzaku was ten!" Rivalz protested, "He probably didn't even know what he was even doing!"

"I'm sure once we convince him to come back, we can assist him in understanding that," Allura reasoned.

"Everyone, calm down," Lelouch said, "I want to help Suzaku too, but we need to be careful about this. One wrong move and we risk our identities getting exposed and that will bring its own plethora of problems."

"Well, we aren't just going to leave him be, right?" Shirley exclaimed.

"Of course not," Lelouch scowled, looking almost offended, "We just need the right opportunity…" he glanced up at the monitor displaying the battle happening at Kyushu back on Earth, "...In fact, I might have an idea."

o~o

"Incoming missiles. Appears to be coming from Fukuoka base! One minute, five seconds to impact!"

"An air raid?" Suzaku asked from inside the cockpit of the Lancelot. Due to the Avalon being destroyed thanks to Voltron, the Camelot unit was currently on a smaller airship dubbed the Le Fay. The overall structure was the same as the Avalon (at least according to what Suzaku had been told), including the ports where the Knightmares were located.

"We'll be fine in this position," Cecile answered over the intercom.

Suzaku found himself nodding as he felt the impact from the missiles beneath the Lancelot, the Le Fay's lower shields absorbing the attack. Any moment now he would be ordered to deploy from the transport and into the battle below

He hunched over in his chair, ready to act the second he was told.

Strangely though, he felt… out of place. Suddenly, the superior armor of the Lancelot felt like only thin layers of tin foil, and he found himself shifting his hands repeatedly over the controls. He feels exposed like he could be shot at any moment, and the Knightmare's cockpit won't be able to stop anything.

Not like in Yoru. Who wasn't another machine, but… a part of him...

Suzaku shook his head. He couldn't think about that now. He made his choice. Made his bed, now had to lay in it.

So why did he still feel like there was a gaping hole in his chest now?

"Major Kururugi, I'm laying out the mission plan for final verification," Cecile's voice rang again through the cockpit as a screen lit up in front of him with a map of the area, "This ship will breach the enemy's front line from high altitude and move directly to the launch point. The advanced weapon systems Z01-Lancelot using the Float Unit will attack the enemy headquarters at Fukuoka base. The Float Unit consumes energy fast so pay attention to your operation time."

"Yes, My Lord," Suzaku acknowledged, his hands running over the throttles once more, before pressing down on the button. The Lancelot leaned forward, in position ready to launch into battle, "M.E. boost."

"Lancelot Unit, now launching!" Cecile exclaimed.

"Launch!" Suzaku parroted before the familiar pressure of the air in his face from shooting forward hit him.

The Knightmares charged down the launching system and shot off the ramp of the Le Fay. The Float Unit unfolded on Lancelot's back, propelling him towards the enemy base.

'Here we go,' Suzaku thought as his eyes zeroed in on the mission.

o~o

"The enemy ship seems to have launched a bomber but it's moving faster than a fighter plane!" a soldier alerted Sawazaki and General Tsao as they gazed at a map of their own.

"I have picture," another soldier informed as a pop-up screen appeared, showing the form of the Lancelot speeding towards them. Gasps were heard all around the command center.

"A Knightmare?!" Sawazaki gasped.

"It's not being transported; it's just flying on its own!" Tsao realized.

"That weapons report we got, could this be it?!" Sawazaki realized.

"You mean that novelty weapon?" General Tsao asked.

"So then, the pilot must be-" Sawazaki's eyes widened. If it was true that he had been found, then there was only one explanation.

o~o

"The military force that's trying to occupy the Kyushu block is fighting under ex-Minister Atsushi Sawazaki. If they lose him, the new Japanese government will collapse very quickly. In that case, the Chinese Federation will lose their excuse for being here and have to withdraw."

Suzaku remembered Lloyd's explanation from before the mission as the Lancelot twirled gracefully around dozens of missiles fired towards him from several helicopters. With a grunt, he fired a single slash harken from the Lancelot, catching one of the helicopters and twirling it around, making it crash into the others.

Despite this though, Suzaku couldn't help but feel like the Lancelot felt jerky compared to that of Yoru's fluid movements when she weaved around asteroids and Galran fighters.

"There it is…" Suzaku muttered as he spotted the enemy base, blocking an attack from another aircraft with his Blaze Luminous. "The enemy headquarters."

Then a beeping sound caught his attention.

"An open channel?" Suzaku gasped as a grainy image of Sawazaki glitched onto the screen.

"This is Minister Sawazaki," the politician addressed, "is that Prime Minister Kururugi's son in the pilot seat?" Suzaku gave no answer. "I see. I didn't know he had a son like you."

o~o

"Are you sure about this Prime Minister?" Nonette asked as she settled into the seat of the large black Knightmare waiting to be launched from another port on the Le Fay, Prince Schneizel's face displayed in front of her, "I'd much rather prefer to fight with Kururugi than use him like this. It feels like we're playing dirty."

"I understand your concern Lady Enneagram," Schneizel reasoned, "but this is the best course of action to stop this attack and avoid as much collateral damage as possible. Besides, Major Kururugi is an excellent pilot. He won't go down without a fight.

"...I understand Prime Minister," Nonette could only mutter as the Gawain's cockpit slowly closed and the power-up systems began.

o~o

"-and then, when you saved me," Nina explained fervently, kneeling by a small fire pit in front of Princess Euphemia, "Princess Euphemia — I'll never forget it — you looked like some kind of goddess… like you were bathed in radiant light."

Nina suddenly gasped in realization, as she fidgeted in the dress she was now wearing, "Oh, forgive me! I should have thanked you for these change of clothes you gave me."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Nina," Euphie smiled softly, "Besides, I'm not at all the wonderful person you think I am. I'm no good compared to my brother and sister…"

"No, that's not true!" Nina nearly shouted in horror, as Euphemia looked up with a gasp, "How can you say that about yourself…? There's not one good thing about me… really, nothing at all. My parents are ordinary, I'm not the least bit pretty, and there's just nothing special about me!" the spectacled girl lamented, looking at her clasped hands in shame.

"That's wrong, Nina. I think you're a very cute girl," Euphie argued, hoping to cheer her up.

Nina looked up with a gasp, her cheeks dusting with red before looking down in embarrassment, "Oh, no… I'm not really good for anything… not at all. And now…" Nina had tears in her eyes now, "Now all of my friends have gone missing, and I'm the only one left! And now there's that Voltron-monster that could attack at any time. I just feel… Why am I so useless?!"

Euphemia gazed at the girl in front of her with sympathy. She understood what this girl was feeling all too well.

'She hates herself. But so do I… both my sister Cornelia and Nunnally and even Lelouch are missing, and I can't do a thing about it to help...'

"I guess I understand, but Suzaku makes me uneasy," Nina murmured off-handedly.

Euphemia's eyes suddenly widened as the fire crackled next to them.

'That's it! Suzaku feels badly too!' She had seen it. Sure he hadn't really explained why, but it was clear that Suzaku was in pain somehow. It had always been present, from the moment she first met him, to reuniting with him just the other day, but now it was much more pronounced.

"So please, oh please, don't say that you're no good, Princess Euphemia! I beg of you!" Nina pleaded, desperately, "Because… because… I need you… I need your goodness."

Euphemia smiled, "Thank you so much, Nina. I'm glad I got to know you. You've really helped me understand!"

o~o

With a hiss, the doors to the vacant Purple Lion's chamber opened. The Lion, dubbed Yoru by her good, honored-bound Paladin, usually would look proud and strong as she sat on her hind legs, her shield up to prevent intruders from getting in.

Now, a sense of melancholy seemed to darken her features, her head even looked slightly tilted down. If she had the ability to, there would no doubt by streaks of tears running down her snout. She had felt her sisters leave the ship just moments ago, but with no Paladin to fly her, she would be nothing but a nuisance, a wild beast on the battlefield.

"She looks so sad," Nunnally's small voice murmured as she gazed up at the Lion from the hoverchair, Sayoko and C.C. flanking her.

"Lady Nunnally, your intentions are noble," the kunoichi maid said, "but you don't even know how to pilot a Knightmare."

"Not to mention that it's ultimately up the Lion if you can even step foot on board," C.C. added, "According to Allura, the Lion chooses the pilot. I hope you realize there's still the chance you could be rejected."

"I know that!" Nunnally exclaimed firmly, "But… my brother and his friends are down there. I can't just sit back and not do anything. Not while Suzaku is…"

She grit her teeth as she pushed herself off her chair. She almost immediately fell, only for the two women to catch her and steady her. Once regaining her footing, she straightened, and with small, careful steps approached Yoru's barrier. Once within arm's reach, she placed a hand gently atop of the forcefield.

"I know I'm not Suzaku, but... but he needs help. I want to help him, and you're the only one who can let me help him!" Nunnally exclaimed, practically begging with the Lion, "Please... he's... he's like a second brother to me... and I know he means a lot to you too!" Nunnally gasped as tears welled in her eyes, "Suzaku... he... he wants to sacrifice himself! I know this is selfish but... please! I'm begging you! Help me save him!"

There were several seconds of dead silence. Then with a flash, Yoru's eyes blazed golden. With a gasp, hearing a distant roar in her head, Nunnally stumbled falling back, the particle barrier vanishing.

Behind her, Sayoko and C.C. gazed in awe as the Lion roared to life.

As Yoru lowered her head to let her pilot in, Nunnally shakily got back to her feet, a relieved, emotional smile on her face.

o~o

"This has nothing to do with my father. I came here to put an end to this fighting. I will accept your surrender," Suzaku said stoically as he landed the Lancelot on the ground below the wheels squealing against the metal surface.

"You want to rob Japan of its dream of freedom?" Sawazaki asked.

"Freedom has to come the right way, not like this," Suzaku replied. However, as the words left his tongue, they felt hollow to him. His time as a Paladin really helped open his eyes. If Voltron took this approach with Zarkon, they would get nowhere. But what else did he have now? Saying that phrase now simply felt like he was falling into an annoying habit again.

"You act out of selfishness? It's justice without ideology," Sawazaki retorted.

"No, you're wrong! That's not what I-" Suzaku was cut off as something exploded behind him. The VARIS rifle flew out of the Lancelot's hand and was destroyed a second later as Knightmares moved out and attacked.

"My VARIS…" Suzaku grunted as he looked at the Knightmares. "These are Chinese Federation Gun-Rus!"

o~o

Sawazaki smirked cockily as he watched Suzaku getting ambushed, "He allowed me to distract him. He still has much to learn!"

o~o

Back at the Viceroy's Palace, Euphemia walked confidently up to her brother's desk. The Prime Minister seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with Darlton, both their faces were grim.

"Euphie?" Schneizel questioned, honestly surprised to see her.

"Schneizel, may I have access to a private communication line?"

o~o

Suzaku grunted the Blaze Luminous on the Lancelot's left arm exploded along with his Float Unit as he tried to take cover behind some crates. However, dodging attacks was the least of his problems as warning lights began to beep repeatedly throughout the cockpit. "My energy filler!"

o~o

Back on the Le Fay, the Camelot Unit was in a near panic.

"Are you kidding?!" Lloyd exclaimed, turning to Cecile. "They blasted off the float!"

"The Le Fay has to strike at the base!" Cecile said urgently.

"No, the shield doesn't completely surround us! One direct hit and we'll go down in flames!" Lloyd panicked, gripping his head almost ripping his hair out.

"Suzaku, reroute all power to combat and comm systems!" Cecile ordered promptly, looking down at her console.

o~o

"Got it!" Suzaku replied before rushing to do so, trying to stay calm. The factspheres on the Lancelot shut down.

"You had better surrender, Suzaku," Sawazaki sneered, "Since you're Prime Minister Kururugi's son I guarantee you will be very well treated, my boy."

"I decline. If I used my father's name for this I'd never forgive myself," Suzaku retorted, as Knightmares surrounded him, "This is between you and me."

"I see…You are very much your father's son, as foolish and stubborn as he was."

Suzaku growled, wracking his brain to figure a way out of the situation he was in.

"Suzaku Kururugi!" the voice made Suzaku's eyes widen as he looked up and saw…

"Princess Euphemia!" Suzaku gasped.

"Suzaku, the truth is you and I…That is…" Euphemia trailed off.

"Sorry." Suzaku wheeled the Lancelot out and attacked the enemy Knightmares. "But right now…"

"You see…I hereby command you to love me!" Euphemia shouted.

"Right… Wait, what?!" Suzaku stopped upon realizing what Euphemia had said, his eyes bugged out.

o~o

"Huh?" Cecile gasped too at what she just heard.

"What? What is it?!" Lloyd asked anxiously, his eyes wild.

"Uh…Sorry but this is private." Cecile said, her face flushing as she removed her headpiece.

o~o

"And in return, I will love you! Forever!" Euphemia continued steadfastly.

"Princess Euphemia!" Suzaku gasped as he weaved around the enemy bullets.

"Suzaku, I love your stubbornness and your kindness and your strength! Your sad eyes, your clumsiness, and the way you have trouble with cats! I love everything about you! When you disappeared, I thought about you every day! I hoped that you'd one day be found and come back to me!" Suzaku fired his flash harken once more as the Princess went on, "So please, don't hate yourself!"

For a moment, Suzaku found himself at a loss of words, before he smiled softly, "I see that I've made you even more worried than I did before. You really are…" like a whip, the Lancelot threw one Knightmare against several more, making them fall like dominos, "Everything you do is impulsive. When we first met, when you told me you were a princess, when you selected my school — always!"

"Yes, they were all sudden," Euphemia confirmed with a smile, "but that's because…I suddenly realized..."

"But then it's that spur of the moment feeling that's opened so many doors for me." Suzaku wheeled the Lancelot towards the enemy command center. "Thank you."

o~o

"What are you doing?!" Sawazaki exclaimed, feeling panic rising in him for the first time that evening, "Stop him now!"

o~o

Suzaku opened his eyes. "Princess, can I make one final request?"

"Final?" Euphemia gasped on the other side.

"Please, transfer this to a separate line," Suzaku requested, "one that no else is using."

Euphemia was confused but did as he said. Suzaku followed suit in the Lancelot.

Suzaku knew what he said next had to stay between himself and the Princess. No one, especially from Britannia could overhear this.

"Euphie, I just want you to know… your sister, Cornelia, and Lelouch and Nunnally, they're all right. They're safe and being well-taken care of," he explained the best he could.

"Wha-they are?" Euphemia gasped, hope and joy bubbling inside her.

"Yes," Suzaku nodded as the Lancelot's energy filler blinked on its final bar, the enemy sweeping in for a final blow, "You may see them again really soon, and when you do there'll be a surprise for you. A good one."

Euphemia gasped happily in relief upon hearing this. But something told her that Suzaku wasn't finished.

"And also, when you see them again, please deliver a message for me. Tell them, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for them. I'm sure they'll be fine without me."

"Suzaku, don't tell me you're-"

The Lancelot wheeled down a pair of walls with one leg on both walls and leaped out into a circle of enemies. "Tell them thank you for everything, and Euphie, I mean that for you too. Thanks for everything," he sighed in acceptance as the enemy raised their guns, "I was stubborn all the way to the end."

"Why don't you tell us yourself?!"

Suzaku gasped as suddenly, lasers of ice and fire rained down from the sky, freezing and burning the Knightmares, their pilots along with them.

o~o

From the Chinese transport, Sawazaki gasped, "What was that?"

"Something just appeared on the radar. And they're huge!"

"We've got picture!"

"Sir! You need to see this!"

Sawazaki gasped as the seven Voltron Lions descended onto the battlefield. The Black and Purple ones landed directly in front of Suzaku, growling aggressively like a real lion would protect its cub. The Green, Yellow, Orange, Blue, and Red ones circled them protectively as well, firing and destroying any Knightmares that got too close.

Suddenly the line went black, only to be replaced moments later by the laughing face of Voltron himself.

o~o

Euphemia gasped in surprise as the same laughing image flashed on her private line as well.

o~o

Rai's fingers danced rapidly across Zerith's keyboard as he quickly and effectively hacked into both the lines that the Lancelot was connected to and effectively cutting both Sawazaki and Euphemia (as well as any other Britannians listening in) out, while also establishing a private line of his own, connecting all the Lions to the Lancelot's communications.

"Wha-Yoru?" Suzaku gasped at the sight of the Purple Lion, "But how are you-?"

"Suzaku!" Nunnally's voice rang through the channel, making him gasp, "Are you okay?"

"Wha-Nunnally?" he gasped, a mixture of awe and horror in his tone. His brow furrowed, "Lelouch, what the hell-"

"For the record, I never agreed to this arrangement," Lelouch answered. One could clearly tell he was frowning as he said this. Lelouch hadn't exactly been pleased when he discovered that Nunnally had gone behind his back and did this, only for Nunnally to argue back that Suzaku needed as much help as possible, and Yoru didn't want to sit back and do nothing while her Paladin's life was in danger.

So, with the promise that they would discuss this when they returned to the Castle, Lelouch relented, knowing Nunnally would at least be physically fine inside the Lion.

"Wait so… Nunnally are you…?"

"No," Nunnally answered, "Yoru's letting me fly her because she wants to help you Suzaku, but… she couldn't do that on her own."

Suzaku was at a loss for words. The Purple Lion still wanted to help him, even after learning what he did? Why? He was sure that anyone on the Castle would have been a better fit than him.

"Suzaku, we all want to help you!" Shirley suddenly exclaimed as the other Lions surrounded the Lancelot, "You did a bad thing, but that doesn't make you a bad person. What about all the times you saved our lives? Like when you helped fight off Sendak when he took over the Castle?"

"Or what about the time you, me, and Milly saved all those Merpeople from that Baku monster?" Rivalz added.

"Or when we fought all those Ro-beasts Zarkon sent against us?" Milly continued.

Rai spoke next, "You've done something that you think you can't forgive yourself for, we get that. I especially know what that's like... But just because you did something bad, doesn't mean you can't redeem yourself."

Kallen huffed out a laugh before speaking next, "You're a stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit. But, at the same time, you're someone we can depend on. You didn't even hesitate to help me fight Zarkon back at Galra HQ. And... I never did get a chance to thank you for that."

"Suzaku, please," Nunally begged, "We might have different parents, but you're family to me! I don't want to lose you! I know I'm being selfish right now, but I don't care! Please come back to us! I love you!"

Suzaku was stunned. He was sure that once it had sunk in for the Paladins of his sin, they would leave him. They had the right to after all.

But no, that's not what happened. They didn't see a murderer. They saw a friend, a teammate, a brother, and a member of their family. One that they wanted to come home.

"Suzaku…" Lelouch intoned, shaking him out of his thoughts, "When I first arrived at your family's home, I didn't trust anyone. I completely shut myself out from everyone except Nunnally. But, you were able to help break through my shell, you became the first real friend I ever had outside my biological family. You're always putting everyone else first ahead of yourself, but every now and again, you're entitled to be a little selfish, you're human too. I don't want to lose the first friend I ever had. I don't want to beg, but I will if I have to. You, and everyone else, you've all been there for me. Now it's our turn to return the favor."

Tears had begun to build in his eyes as he listened to Lelouch's speech, but the final statement made them spill over. He gasped and tried to muffle sniffles with his hand. From inside, he heard an almost impatient whine and the sound of metal approaching the Knightmare. He half expected Yoru to start pawing at the Lancelot.

With a hiss, the cockpit of the Lancelot slid open, and just as he suspected, was met with Yoru's long snout.

Patting the top of the Lancelot's head in a clear goodbye, Suzaku jumped to the ground as Yoru lowered her head in front of him with an eager purr.

Making his way up into the familiar cockpit, he was immediately greeted by Nunnally, who instantly leaped up and hugged him tightly. A hug that he gladly returned.

"Thanks for keeping Yoru company," as he pulled back, Yoru's familiar soft growls echoed in his mind, "Yeah, it's good to see you too, girl."

Throwing her head back, Yoru roared loudly, followed by the other six Lions before shooting up into the sky.

"I recognized that strategy the second you appeared in the battle," Lelouch addressed, "They send a single fighter in to try to disrupt the main force so that even if you failed, Britannia's militia would have swooped right in. This has Schneizel written all over it!"

"You think he's here? Maybe on one of those boats?" Kallen asked.

"No," Lelouch shook her head, "Schneizel prefers to stay back and command from a distance, unlike Cornelia who participates actively in the battle."

Before further discussion could ensue, the group suddenly found themselves surrounded by several Chinese helicopters.

"Hey!" Rivalz exclaimed, activating Polaris's sonic ray, "Out the way!"

With a roar, Polaris fired the sonic ray, effectively disabling all of the helicopters, causing them to fall back to Earth.

"So, now what? Who do we attack? One or both sides?" Shirley asked.

Before Lelouch could reply, a screen appeared in front of him, receiving a signal. It seemed to be coming from the Chinese Federation.

"Well, well, Minister Sawazaki," Lelouch addressed as he quickly slid on his mask before answering.

"Zero! Why are you attacking us, we're both on the same side! Shouldn't we be fighting together as comrades?! Don't you care about Japan?!" the Minister exclaimed, but Lelouch could see the fear in his eyes as well.

"Voltron stands against anyone who uses violence unjustly for their own selfish end," Lelouch informed indifferently.

"Selfish?!" Sawazaki shouted in offense, "I'm doing this for Japan!"

"Sawasaki! If this is for Japan, why did you run away to the Chinese Federation?!" Suzaku asked, activating a voice-only connection, "You should have stayed, for everyone's sake!"

"You're still a child!" Sawazaki shouted.

Lelouch sighed dramatically, "It seems words have no effect on you. Very well. Paladins, we're attacking the enemy command center!"

"Wha-what-!" was the final thing Sawazaki said as Zero cut off the connection.

"Form Voltron!"

o~o

"Lady Enneagram," a radio crackled, "Voltron's here! The Lions just converged."

"What?! Why aren't we attacking then?" she exclaimed.

"That's the thing, they appear to be fighting the Chinese Federation!"

"What…? That doesn't make any sense?" she muttered, "Why are they fighting on our side now?"

o~o

"Suzaku… you and Lelouch are…" Euphemia murmured in relief when she heard about Voltron appearing at the base.

o~o

"So that was the plan," Tohdoh said, as he and the rest of the Black Knights watched the footage from the Castle, "It was clear that the Lions were more than enough to take the base…"

"Still, we at least could have helped with Earth-bound Knightmares. Give them some sort of back-up!" Tamaki protested.

"Yeah, even I'll admit it feels weird to be fighting on Britannia's side…" Ohgi trailed off before Allura interrupted.

"You're misunderstanding," the Altean corrected, "Victory is not necessary in this case. But Voltron's participation in this battle is an undeniable truth. It's showing your planet and people exactly where Voltron stands in this war, and that is protecting your nation."

"And even if this battle isn't officially reported," Coran added, "Rumors will spread. By the time this is over, I'm sure the entire country will know about it."

o~o

"What's wrong with going to another country, then waiting for the right moment to strike?!" Sawazaki demanded as he rode in a military vehicle to escape the base that Voltron was currently tearing to pieces. A helicopter was waiting for him and General Tsao., "That's an effective strategy, isn't it?"

"We can set up a new line of defense at Kagoshima," Tsao suggested.

"Right. I appreciate your help," Sawazaki nodded as they finally approached the helicopter pad.

Before either of them could enter the helicopter though, Aka's head suddenly slammed down on it, destroying it completely. Sawazaki stumbled backward in shock as Voltron levitated directly in front of him and Tsao.

"Sawazaki, that's far enough!" Rai ordered from the Green Lion.

"You won't get away that easy!" Kallen shouted.

"Im-impossible!" Sawazaki stuttered in fear before falling to his knees, "They took the largest fortress in all of Kyushu, with hardly any effort?"

The sound of Knightmares and vehicles approaching was heard from below as Voltron turned to leave.

"I think Britannia can handle things from here," Milly stated.

"Right… let's go home," Lelouch ordered before the Paladins rocketed back into the sky, reunited once again.

o~o

Taking one more moment to adjust his armor for the hundredth time, Suzaku took a deep breath before walking steadily onto the bridge, where Allura, Coran, Nunnally, and the other Paladins waited for him.

Allura smiled softly as Suzaku approached from the opened door.

"Suzaku Kururugi, Paladin of the Purple Lion, Yoru, reporting for duty," he said with a bow.

"Welcome back, Suzaku," Allura smiled and handed his Bayard back to him, "I believe this belongs to you."

Suzaku took it, but the feeling of unease still remained. Yesterday, the team had made it clear that they wanted him here. But was he truly worthy as a Paladin?

"I'm grateful, Princess Allura," he said honestly, "but… despite all this, I still feel undeserving of this."

To his surprise, Allura approached and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up in surprise, "I'm not so sure. I don't know if you're already aware of this, Suzaku. But the Purple Lion's previous Paladin was my mother, Queen Melenor of Altea," Suzaku's eyes widened at this information, along with the rest of the team besides Lelouch, "In a way, she was much like yourself, every bit as stubborn as you are, while also putting the lives of others above her own. But, what made her truly stand out was how she always told me, that when you make a mistake, you can always find a way to redeem yourself no matter how grave your mistake was. You took the life of your own father, and I can't imagine what that must be like for you, but despite all your flaws and shortcomings, the Purple Lion chose you to be her Paladin for a reason; because it recognized the best in you, just as we all do."

Suzaku didn't know what to say, still trying to process this new revelation, so Allura continued.

"When I was a child, my father told me something. I didn't quite understand it back then, but now I do. The real test of honor is not how you die. It's how you live."

Suzaku gasped at this, before smiling, gratitude, and determination on his face, "I won't let you down."

Allura nodded, "I know you won't."

"Yay!" Nunnally cheered, before rushing to hug him again. Suzaku laughed as he gently hugged her back once more.

"All right! Welcome back!" Milly cheered.

"This ship has been way too boring without you Suzaku," Rai smiled.

"Eh… Yeah, I guess it was," Kallen shrugged, but a smirk was still present on her face.

"We've all missed you Number Two," Coran said, patting Suzaku on the back.

"Anyway, now that that's out of our system," Rivalz said, suddenly looking at Suzaku almost accusingly, "bro, why didn't you tell us you had a thing for Princess Euphemia?"

"Wh-" Suzaku sputtered and his face turned tomato red, "Wha-What are you talking about?!"

"You can't fool us, Suzaku," Rai grinned, "Plus, I may or may not have hacked into the Lancelot's communication system halfway through your little love confession. A pretty decent one too if you ask me."

Milly chortled, "So was that your plan to change the system? Marry into the royal family?"

Kallen continued smirking, shrugging again, "Well that does sound like a good idea on paper, but you know all those royal assholes would have a field day with that."

Rai chuckled, "Still, I'd love to see the looks on all their faces if Suzaku and Euphemia did marry."

"Guys!" Suzaku whined, covering his face to hide his blush. He felt absolutely mortified.

"Leave him alone, everyone!" Shirley scolded them, "He literally just got back and we're teasing him already?"

"Yeah!" Nunnally joined in before turning to Suzaku again, "You don't have to listen to them Suzaku, I think you and Euphie would be a great couple!"

"I have been curious to research a couple of Earth's marriage customs for a while," Coran added in, stroking his chin in thought, "If you're planning to propose soon, please inform me."

Though Coran hadn't meant to, this did elicit another round of chuckles from the group. Even Lelouch.

Suzaku sighed, but a smile was spread across his face as he looked up at them.

"It's good to be back."

#Fanfiction #Code Geass #Voltron #lelouch lamperouge #milly ashford #suzaku kururugi #kallen kozuki #shirley fenette #rai #rivalz cardemonde #coran #allura #euphemia li britannia #schneizel el britannia #crossover

[scav-eng-er]

“If Nothing Else, We Have This.” TROS Alternate Ending 4/?

GUYS IM ALIVE. Coronavirus hasn’t gotten me holy shit this is so overdue and i apologize but this quarantine sucks and i had major writers block with the dialogue so i hope you guys like this and I WILL FINISH THIS STORY. 

OH! i also made an AO3 account so you guys can go there if its easier! Thank you!

To all my beans because you’re the only ones who keep me sane @reylo-trash-4ever @mojona1999 @kommissrawr @redheadonaflolol 

💙❤️

“What the hell was all that?!” Poe raised his voice as the trio entered the empty hanger. The footsteps echoed in the metallic room, the distant sounds of leftover victories could faintly be heard in Rey’s ears. However, her attention was on a more pressing matter…an angry pilot.

“Poe, I kno-“

“When did all this happen? I-I mean were you ever going to tell us?!”

“I was abo-“

“Do you know how much information you held? Kriff, Rey we could’ve ended this war months ago! This is ridiculous! Why do you defend him? Kylo Ren! The supreme leader?! Rey, do you know what he’s done!?”

She knew. She could feel it whenever he felt shame or guilt. That was the problem with being a dyad in the force, she guessed. She could feel whatever he felt, especially in times of self doubt. He knew the horrors he caused, the fights, the killing. Rey was afraid what it would do to him in future, not just in the eyes of the galaxy, but behind his own. Night terrors and nightmares were something she knew all too well. The screams in her pillow or her sobs, echoed in the darkness of her AT-AT. And if anyone could understand how those felt, it was Ben. And that was why she was afraid of what would happen if he was left alone. Rey wanted to be by his side if he ever needed her, to hold him with warm, comforting arms. Just the two of them.

“What if he’s leading a secret fleet here right now? He could’ve planned this all from the beginning!”

“Poe, he would never-”

“Oh, so have you two chit chatted about all this? Just gossiped about each other’s secrets and jeopardizing our entire cause for a good time?”

Rey’s cheeks reddened, embarrassment and anger swelling inside her. Poe wouldn’t let her speak, and he was scolding her like a child, “No! Why would I-“

“You tell me!” He was face to face with Rey and she noticed the droplets of sweat beading around his forehead and down his neck. He was exhausted from practically carrying the whole resistance on his shoulders. She saw how outgoing, confident and brave he was, but deep down, Rey felt sorry for Poe. He was just as scared as everyone else. 

If she could just get a word in..

“What have you told him? What makes you think you can even trust him?” 

She couldn’t look him in the eye, the anger about to burst. He was getting on her nerves and his disrespect towards Ben had Rey clenching her fists.  

“I mean he’s…he’s a monster!”

“ENOUGH!” Rey shouted. A vibration ricocheted off the metal hanging, the wires attached whipped suddenly. Poe did not flinch, but understood that his friend was serious. The hanger was once again silent, a comfortable but tense heaviness was in the room.

Finn felt it. Rey wasn’t stupid, far from it. He knew just how important the resistance was to her. But he also knew how much she craved connection, a family, belonging. He had felt it too when he ran from the First Order. He found a family in Rey, Poe, Rose, Leia, even Chewie. The resistance was his home. But something else was hers. 

Rey’s gaze focused on the makeshift monitor she graced her fingers over. She played around the buttons and lights, feeling their eyes burning on her. 

“That feeling you were telling us…?” Finn mumbled.

“I didn’t want to believe it either,” she started, “I knew he was a monster, or at least I thought he was. Can you imagine..? The one person everyone around you is talking about, a murderer, a dictator, a leader and servant to the dark side. The one person you are attached to since before you’re born.” 

Rey saw from the corner of her eyes Poe and Finn glance at each other. Poe couldn’t help but give an aggravating and tired sigh. 

She continued, walking around the main control center, “I felt it not long after our fight on Starkiller, like a shiver up my spine or vibration in my ear. But even so, he had multiple chances to kill me, and I him. So why didn’t we?”

Her friends leaned in, catching on to the importance that this “connection” she had with the Supreme Leader was.

She sighed, “A dyad. Bound souls in the Force. Two that are one..what he feels, I feel. What he senses, I sense. What he is, I am.” 

Rey had to stop, her mind reeling at the words coming out of her mouth. She reminded herself Ben was here, he was alive. His heart beat somewhere in the cells and that was enough to make her smile. Poe and Finn saw it too.

“So..you two are like..kindred spirits? Soulmates?” Finn questioned.

Rey could feel her cheeks redden by the word. 

Ben Solo. The son of Leia and Han, nephew to Luke. All these connections she had to his family, even before she met him, had to mean something. And still, destiny decided to make the two into one. From birth they were to be connected. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be romantically, but Rey and Ben were too far gone. They both knew that soon after their first encounter, there was something that burst open after struggling to break free for so long. She remembered how brooding and frightening he was. But when she reached into his mind, still bound in the interrogation room, Rey sensed his fear, his unraveling. His humanity. That was what she fell in love with. The man under the mask. The man behind Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. 

“Yes. I suppose we are.” She said to no one. Speaking the words out loud, she wished they could travel through the corridors and into the cells, giving Ben a clear indication of how much she cared for him. 

Remembering the discussion at hand, Rey pulled her attention to the boys. Poe’s hands leaned on the control center across from her. The sunset peaked through the canopy and wires of the hanger, criss crossing over the trios faces. Finn stood behind him, arms crossed and against another control boards, dusty and in need of repair.

Rey couldn’t make out the looks on their faces.

Poe gave huff of a laugh, too exhausted to express more emotion.

Finn looked back at Rey, with what looked like hope in his eyes.

The pilot turned, scratching his head, continuously sighing while he thought long and hard.

Rey didn’t realize how nervous she was, the palms of her hands sweating. Her arms felt heavy and she couldn’t move from her spot. Blood pumped in her eardrums, the only sound breaking the silence was now the distant cries of wild animals. 

Please, Poe. 

He eventually turned back and looked her in the eye.

“He has to be punished.”

~~~

“Why do you have that?” Ben nodded at the gleaming key in the young woman’s hands. She fiddled with it, hesitant to do anything. 

Rose could feel her mind pulling her in different directions. She wanted to hand it over, toss it to him and run, or just throw the key into the forest and forget she was ever there. Rose knew the trio would be too preoccupied to notice her gone. 

“You know why.” She spoke. Her voice was deeper than he thought. She was very short, Ben could obviously see that, but her determination made up for her stature. This woman held the key to his escape, his freedom, but he saw hate growing in her eyes.

She’s been affected by this war, just like everyone else. Ben thought. He was the cause of it, of course. Maybe he killed her family, or interrogated her lover. Then why does she want to let him out? 

With a click of his tongue, Ben shifted in his spot, the restraints on his wrists rubbed a little rough. 

“I can’t let you do that..” 

“You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t do.” Hate dripped from her lips, she couldn’t stand still.

Ben’s brows furrowed. Here was this strange woman, much shorter than Rey, he could see. A woman who probably hated him just as much as he used to hate himself. She still had the look of battle on her, face caked in dirt and hair wild and untamed. Rey and him had returned and were thrust into the aftermath so quickly, it was unlikely anyone had time to clean themselves up. It was more likely everyone was too interested talking about the defeated Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and his unfortunate consequence. Years of war because of Palpatine, Snoke, and him. 

This girl should want him dead, so why is she putting the key in the lock?!

The echo of the key placed in the lock bellowed down the hall. Ben stood, alert and confused, his hands still bound.

“Wait wait wait, kid! Stop, what are you doing?” He hurried to the bars, towering over Rose. Her hand was on the key, ready to turn and free Ben from his cell and restraints. She did not flinch or cower away.

She looked up at him, neck craned, her eyes held fury. Sunset from the entrance peered down the cells, and floating specks of dust could be seen between them. Up close, Ben noticed streaks of dirt and sweat on her. The knuckles of her hands were white as her grip tightened on the key.

“Back in the clearing,” she started, “we were all ready to see the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren die. It should’ve warmed my heart to see you dragged away in chains. But then I saw something, in Rey.” 

Ben’s heart leapt at hearing her name, and he visibly relaxed. 

“I don’t know what it was, but it almost scared me. It wasn’t Rey, or..or maybe it was and we just never saw that side of her.” Rose began to ramble, Ben hanging on to every word.

“She was…passionate. Determined. Just so she could get to you…” While Ben stared down at her, they both knew she was on top of it all.

Rose had to turn her head, lips quivering and eyes welling up with tears, “it reminded me of my sister.” 

The ache that came from Ben’s chest was enough make him physically wince. The pain of his actions that was inflicted on others, was now coming back for him. 

“Just about everyone I know was about to give up, to end it all. But I knew she would fight until her dying breath. She would fight to protect and inspire those around her, the fire of the resistance only growing bigger and brighter because of her.”

Ben couldn’t tell if she was talking about her sister or Rey, but he smiled sadly, knowing there were so many who believed in the resistance, in his mother, and in Rey.

Rose sighed. “I know what I saw,” she said quietly, as if she was talking to herself.

“What?” Ben finally asked.

“Hope.”

Ben imagined a cave, dark, wet and cold. Outside a storm raged on, winds whipping and thrashing. Animals hidden and sheltered under twigs, branches, and burrows. It is empty in the cave and when you walk, it seems like its a never-ending path of darkness. And just as you’re about to give up, turn around and collapse from exhaustion, you see it. A flicker of light off the wall ahead of you. Every step is starting to get warmer, more inviting. 

Ben turns to the source of light and is somewhere else. He is outside, it’s sunny and warm. Its Ahch-To! He is back at the Jedi Temple? He hears distant laughter, children are playing. He follows the sounds over the hill. Ben nearly laughs at the sight of younglings running, other practicing with sticks. Girls and boys of different species scatter the island. They play tag and jump in the water, and he sees Rey watching them, teaching them. She turns to him, and her belly is swollen. She is smiling and happy, and all Ben wants to do is take her hand, outstretched and waiting for him.

“Hey!” A snap from Rose’s fingers woke him.

Her hand still held the key, ready to turn in the lock. 

“You ready to go?” She questioned.

His cheeks hurt from grinning, excited for the life that waited for him. Ben couldn’t care if it was 6 months or 10 years away. He felt his heart about to burst. He could finally do something right, and bring peace to the galaxy. He would have Rey for the rest of his life and their family would bring the return of the Jedi, with balance and hope for all. 

“I’m ready.”

A turn of the lock and the door opened, his restraints fell off with a loud clunk. He stepped through, rubbing his sore wrists. He gave a small nod to Rose.

“Thank you.” A small hand on his chest halted him.

Her eyes were dark again, “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for Rey.”

Ben nodded again, though more cautious and understanding. He quietly made his way down the hall, until Rose mumbled, 

“And for Leia.”

Ben hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he felt himself get dizzy. He stood still, unable to look at Rose.

“Where is my mom?”

#reylo #rey #ben solo #rey x ben solo #tros fix it #tros fanfiction #tros fanfic #tros fanwork #star wars #I AM SO TIRED #THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK #IM SORRY

[avintagekiss24]

Piper’s Creek [3/10]

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2687

Warnings: language

Rating: M - language

Link: AO3

Summary: Sam Wilson is a simple man. He likes to do simple things, like going fishing on a warm summer day. Little does Sam know, this fishing trip will not only lead him to his soulmate, but into a world of ancient folklore.

Square Filled: none

A/N: We finally get a little background on the infamous Mr. Bucky! We also get to meet Natasha and Wanda! Art is by the lovely @waltermittie

Sam stares at the two monitors before him, his eyes zeroing in on a tiny speck of dust instead of the impatient driver at his window. He blinks slowly, his mind recounting his time at the river, the overwhelming calm that came over him when the naked man before him muttered the words Bucky Barnes. Then, the immediate fear that flooded through him when the gravity of who he, Bucky, really was. It wasn’t fair. He had waited so long and-

“Sam? You still there, buddy?”

He blinks, snapping his head back toward the drive through window. He clears his throat and shakes his head quickly, before counting the stack of money in his hand again, “I’m here, sorry about that, Mr. Griffin. Here’s twelve hundred all in hundred dollar bills. Anything else I can get you, sir?”

He goes through the motions, placing the cash into an envelope and then placing it into the canister. He doesn’t really hear the response, his brain wandering again as the canister disappears and shoots through the pneumatic tube. He plasters a smile on his face, thanks Mr. Griffin again, and drops his head as he rests his palms against the counter. He lets out a deep sigh, before biting the inside of his cheek. He blinks again, staring at his suede dress shoes. 

“What is going on with you?”

Sam turns his head slightly, looking towards the short red head, “I don’t know.”

Natasha cocks her head to the side, clicking her tongue slightly as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Liar.” She smiles, “Chipotle on me?”

Sam drops his head again, but smiles and lets out a light laugh, “You know I can never turn down Chipotle.”

“I know, that’s why I offered.” She smiles widely, turning on her heel and strutting toward her office. 

Within minutes, the two friends are nestled in the back of the busy Chipotle, loud conversations buzzing around them as the lunch rush commences. Natasha watches as Sam eats slowly, squinting her eyes as she picks at her salad, “So,” she draws out, dipping her eyes quickly to her food before sending them back toward Sam, “What’s going on?”

Sam takes a sip of his Coke, before leaning back into his chair. He bites the inside of his lip before he smiles softly, “I think I finally found Bucky.”

Natasha’s mouth drops open, her eyes widening, “Really? How? When?” She questions, “Why is this a bad thing?”

Sam sighs heavily as he moves his eyes around the crowded restaurant. He opens his mouth, but then shuts it almost immediately, chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. He leans up, grabbing his burrito and takes a bite, laughing again as Natasha scoffs, “It’s a crazy story. You won’t believe me.”

“Try me, asshole.” She balls up her napkin and throws it toward him, “It can’t be any crazier than how I met Wanda.”

“It is. Trust me.” He assures her. 

“Sam,” Natasha says after a moment or two, tilting her head, “You can tell me anything.”

He nods enthusiastically, “I know that. It’s not you, it really is crazy. You’re going to think I’m nuts.” He laughs. She purses her lips, her eyes shooting daggers, “Okay, okay,” Sam starts, throwing his hands in the air, “You remember when I went fishing a while back? Like a month ago, or something.”

“Yeah. Piper’s Creek or something?”

“Right. Well, I saw this… wolf,” he says softly, widening his eyes as the word trips off his tongue, gauging her reaction.

She leans towards him, resting her elbows on the table as she quirks her eyebrow, “There’s wolves in Seattle?”

He laughs lightly, “That’s what I thought. Anyway, I watched it move from the bank into the river. Four legs, grey fur, fangs, everything. And then,” he trails off, staring down at the table before looking at his friend square in the eyes, “It turned.”

Natasha dips her head as her jaw tightens and her eyes squint, “Turned?”

“Changed,” Sam whispers as he leans closer to her so no one else around can hear, “It changed into a man. Right in front of me, Nat.”

Natasha’s mouth falls open as she stares back at her seemingly normal, sane, stable friend. She blinks once, and then twice, and then a third time as she waits for him to burst into laughter. But laughter never comes, “Sam.”

“If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’” He says seriously, “I swear to God, Nat. He went from a big ass wolf to a naked ass dude in the blink of an eye.” She falls back into her chair, shaking her head as he continues, “Scared the shit out of me. I tried to run, but my fuckin’ phone went off and it, he heard it and when I turned he was right in front of me. He let me go after a minute or two.”

She scoffs as her lips curl into a smile, “Can you be serious please? I’m trying to help you.”

Sam leans up, his eyes serious, “Nat.”

Her smile drops almost immediately. Her lips part as her eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of insincerity. When she finds none, she turns her head slightly to her left, placing her chin in between her thumb and index finger, “You’re being serious with me? I mean it, Sam.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Natasha places her fingers on her temples as she continues to shake her head. Sam watches as she closes her eyes, hoping and praying that his oldest friend will believe him. She opens her eyes seconds later, but they aren’t full of skepticism like he had imagined they would be. They’re soft, worried, and a little scared, but she believes him. He can feel it. 

“What does this have to do with your soulmate?” She asks, before her breath cuts short, “Oh God-”

“I went back.” Sam cuts her off, “I had to, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and not just because he’s a fucking werewolf. It was like, like,” he drops his eyes from hers, glancing to his right, “Something was pulling me back out there. I couldn’t explain it, I still can’t.”

She grabs his wrist, flipping it over and rubbing her thumb over the name, “Bucky,” she whispers.

He nods slowly, his brown eyes welling with tears, “It’s him. I know it’s him and he knows it’s me. But I can’t, I can’t- it’s. It’s too much.”

Natasha leans up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hug him tightly. She pulls away after a moment, stepping to his side of the table and sitting next to him, keeping his hand clasped in hers, “It’s okay. I get it, that’s, that’s a lot to swallow.” She laughs lightly, trying to lift his spirits a little. 

He turns toward her, blinking furiously as a single tear slips down his cheek, “I miss him,” he says as a sad smile spreads across his face, “I cannot stop thinking about him. From the minute I wake up to the second I fall asleep, he is running through my mind. I just want to feel him again.”

“Then go to him.” She urges, resting her hand on his forearm. 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“He’s a fucking werewolf,” he nearly shouts before catching himself. “Do you hear me? I sound crazy. This is crazy.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes, “I can’t see him again.”

She nods slowly, unsure of what to really to say. Minutes pass as they sit in silence before Natasha snaps her head back toward Sam, “Can I call Wanda?”

“Why?”

“You know she’s into all of that folklore and stuff. Maybe, maybe she’s heard about him before or something. At the very least, she can put this into perspective for you. She’ll know what to do, she always does.”

Natasha reaches for him, wiping away the tears that stains his face. He sniffles, letting out a deep breath before nodding, “She’s gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Natasha smirks, “She makes me drink water that she leaves outside overnight whenever there’s a full moon. If anybody is crazy here, it’s definitely her.”

-----

Sam waits nervously behind Natasha as she unlocks her front door. His stomach has been in knots since their lunch, and got exponentially worse when he saw Natasha having a hushed conversation in her office. The two push inside, Natasha’s heels clicking against the hardwood floor as they search for the Sokovian anthropologist. 

The smell of vanilla fills the air as they move through the open house and turn into the kitchen. They find Wanda, her nose buried in an old book as other papers and old documents are strewn about the countertops. She bites her bottom lip as her eyes soak in the words before her, her free hand absentmindedly playing with the thin silver necklace that adorns her neck.

“Hey babe,” Natasha smiles as she circles around the counter, hugging Wanda from behind and placing a kiss to her cheek, “You’ve been busy,” she laughs.

Wanda laughs lightly, “You gave me a lot to research. Sam, honey,” she says softly, holding out her arms to him, “Come, come.”

Sam smiles as he moves to her, letting her embrace him warmly. She rubs his back as she tucks her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes, “You are so tense,” she whispers, leaning back to catch his eyes. 

He shrugs, embarrassment washing over him as he glances down at his feet, “Not sleeping too well.”

She smiles softly, “I bet. Take a seat, I have so much to share with you.”

Sam obliges, sitting at one of the barstools as Natasha places a small tumbler of scotch in front of him. Wanda grabs the book again, turning it toward Sam and revealing a picture of one Bucky Barnes. She taps her finger on the page, “This is the person you saw?”

Sam nods quickly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach, “That’s him.” He points toward the small red star tattoo on the man's arm, “His hair is longer, but he’s still got the tattoo.”

She smiles, “This is James Buchanan Barnes, better known as Bucky. This picture, believe it or not, is from 1942.”

Sam’s breath hitches in his throat as Natasha eyes widen, “You’re joking,” She says, placing her hand over mouth.

Wanda shakes her head, placing the book down before Sam to grab another piece of paper, “He was born in Romania, back in 1916, although the family moved to New York in 1919. His mothers’ family tree can be traced back to the early beginnings of the Roman Empire, while it's believed his father was of English descent.”

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes, lifting his glass to lips. 

“Indeed,” Wanda answers, shifting through more papers, “So, as for the whole… werewolf thing,” she begins, finding another old picture and turning it toward Sam and Natasha, “His mother, Mioara had a twin sister, Mara. They were beautiful, turned the heads of every man in their small village. Mioara was a devout Christian woman, but Mara was said to have strayed as far away from God as possible. Both women fell pregnant around the same time, Mioara to her husband, but Mara had been sneaking around with a young soldier from a neighboring town.”

“Why does drama always follow me?” Sam asks as he turns toward Natasha, “I couldn’t just end up with a boring ass nobody. Nooo,” he draws out, raising his hands in the air, “Not Sam Wilson. I can’t be happy unless I’m in the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“Sam,” Wanda warns sternly, “Please be serious.”

“I’m trying! You have to admit, this shit is fucked.” He gulps down his whiskey and slides the empty tumbler toward Natasha, who quickly replenishes it. “Sorry. Please, continue.” He states, quickly downing the second glass.

“As I was saying, the young soldier already had a young wife when taking up with Mara. Word soon traveled to the soldier's wife and she was infuriated, naturally. She traveled through the night and came across a young, pregnant woman heading home from church. Sure that it was Mara, she cursed the child to carry the mark of the beast, the red star.” Wanda takes a breath, letting it out slowly as she rests her hands on the counter, “I’m sure you can put two and two together from here.”

Sam nods slowly, “She cursed the wrong baby.”

“Bingo.” Wanda grabs another book, flipping through random pages until she finds the passage she needs, “But there’s more.”

“Of course.” Sam sighs heavily.

“It got back to the woman and the soldier that the wrong child had been cursed. Feeling regret and shame about her mistake, the soldier's wife went to the local priest and confessed her sins. He traveled to their town, meeting Mioara and by now, a young James Buchanan, and placed a special blessing on him. Because he was mistakenly cursed with the mark of the beast, the priest blessed him with two soulmates, instead of just one.”

Sam drops his head into his hands, chuckling out of sheer disbelief. Natasha stands to comfort him, rubbing his back gently, “Maybe that’s enough for now, Wanda. Huh?”

“No, no,” Sam starts, shaking his head, “I want to hear it all. So, my soulmate is a cursed Romanian werewolf who, by the way, gets to have two soulmates bonded to him for life instead of just me. There’s gotta be more.” Wanda bites the inside of her lip, casting her eyes down to counter, “Come on, spit it out. We’ve made it this far.”

She sighs, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “It’s rumored that as part of the blessing, James, or Bucky, can imprint his curse onto his soulmates. So that he doesn’t have to walk this earth alone.” She shrugs, “Basically.”

Sam and Natasha’s mouth drop open as they stare back at Wanda. She shifts her big eyes between the two of them before smiling awkwardly, “You said you wanted to hear it all.”

“So, hang on,” Natasha starts, “You’re saying, he can turn people into werewolves?”

“Well, technically, all werewolves can turn other people into werewolves by biting them,” Wanda says, laughing nervously as the tension in the small kitchen builds. “He can imprint on people. Sort of, pass the traits of his curse onto them, like immortality or regenerative powers or enhanced senses…” She trails off, nodding quickly as she spins her wedding ring around her finger, “You know, that kinda… stuff.”

“So, he’s going to turn me into a werewolf?” Sam asks.

Wanda shakes her head, holding out her hands, “Not necessarily. You could just get some weird power or something.”

“Or become a goddamn werewolf?”

She shrugs again, nodding quickly, “Well, yeah, it’s… possible.”

Sam drops his head into his hands again, "So, how exactly does he imprint on people?"

Wanda shrugs, "I don't know, it all gets kinda shaky when it comes to that. If it's even true!" She says, shrugging again, "I mean, they may be some evidence, but it could pan out to be nothing, just people talking on the internet."

"Evidence?" Natasha asks, widening her eyes, "Wanda."

"What?" She asks sharply, knowing that Natasha knows she's not telling the entire truth.

Sam blinks back at her, his mind going completely blank as he's not sure he can handle anymore, “Wanda, thank you for spending most of your afternoon finding all of this stuff. It was truly, uh… informative. But, if you ladies don’t mind, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Nope, you’re staying right here with us tonight.” Natasha says, “I’m not letting you drive home with all this on your mind.” 

“I agree, Sam. Please stay. Why don’t you go lay down for a while. I can start dinner while you take a nap, and then I’ll tell you the rest.” 

Sam and Natasha snap their heads back toward Wanda, their eyes as wide as saucers as they spit out in unison, “There’s more?!”

#Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam x bucky #bucky x sam #bucky barnes x sam wilson #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #winterfalcon #piper's creek #avintagekiss24 #marvel #mcu #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fanfic

[toothpastecanyon]

Noie’s Brother, Chapter 12

As always, thank you @feferipeixes for beta reading this chapter! Huge help :D

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Alcor felt like this one was a little on the nose. A newborn Mizar fading away in the hospital and a loving father pleading to him from behind a circle of candles.

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Naomi Argenta just wants this stupid vampire to stop harassing her brother. It’s making him go… weird.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

________________________________________________________________

               It was stuffy in the sitting room. Noie’s back stuck to the couch, and heat flowed to her face, to her feet, to her fingers, pooling unpleasantly. She tried to just ignore it and read her book, but the moonlight was faint, and it was hard to lose yourself in a story you could barely see.

               After a couple minutes of squinting hard and trying anyway, she finally gave in and got up with a sigh.

               Her feet touched down on linoleum, and that felt cool against the skin… but not cooling. It warmed with contact instead of cooling her down, and she grimaced.

               When she shifted her feet, the sound of them unsticking from the floor was the only sound to be heard.

               And the air, warm and stagnant like a puddle drying up in the sun, like a weight pressing down on her, like a heavy blanket trapping her heat, trapping her, trapping her and only her and you’re screwing this up you’re doing this wrong and Dipper could die…

               Noie fought a lump in her throat. “I know,” she told the room, told the inky figure of the fireplace in front of her. Her words came out too loud, and she cringed as she bookmarked her place, heard her thoughts shout louder still, heard them yell and scream that SHE WAS MESSING THIS ALL UP HOW COULD SHE NOT SEE DIDN’T SHE CARE THAT DIPPER COULD DIE-

               “I know,” Noie whispered, and it was spoken so quietly silence could drown her out.

               Stars, she was doing something wrong. She could feel it in her thoughts, in her chest, in the way her vision blurred and she dropped her book to rub it all away as fast as she could and then she just held her face, pressed her palms into her sockets until spots danced across the back of her eyelids and she could try and focus on those…

               Her hands felt sweaty. Her face was getting hot. This wasn’t working.

               Noie spread her fingers, and through the cracks she glared at the backdoor.

               If only she could get some fresh air.

               After a moment, Noie let out a long groan, and let her hands drag down her face. They fell, and hung limp from her shoulder joints, and she wondered what she was going to do now.

(Or more accurately, and the ghost of a smile flitted across her face at this, how she was going to stop wondering and maybe get some sleep tonight)

               An idea came to her.

               She tensed up when she thought of it. A little frown creased her face, and she shook her head at first like no, no… But her foot did unpeel itself from the floor.

               She took a step forward, and then another. And then another.

               And then another, and in this way, she made her way, down the hallway.

               Past her bedroom, though she stopped to look inside. To peer into the darkness, and hear it breathing. Her face darkened, and she eased the door shut, so careful not to make a noise she couldn’t help but hold her breath.

               Then onward. There was a bend in the hallway that led to the living room, and her grandparent’s room, but straight ahead was a door. It was hard to make out in darkness, but when she reached out and felt for the handle… ah, there it was.

               This door creaked when Noie opened it. It creaked even if she went slowly, and she bit her lip and prayed it wasn’t really as deafening as it sounded right now. Once there was a crack wide enough to slip through, she left it be, and slipped through the crack.

               Slipped through, to the odd little room that was her grandmother’s study.

               There was a window directly across from Noie, and she could see the moon shining through it. Pale light illuminated a desk in the centre; silhouetted the big computer monitor and dozens of smaller picture frames perched on its surface. Beyond the desk, the light danced with specks of dust in the air, scattered little shadows over the carpet, then came to rest on some loose papers and a couple boxes placed against the wall.

               It was strange. Noie didn’t come in this room very often; in the past few days she’d snuck in here in here to look for vampire books, but that wasn’t something she normally did. The study had always felt weird to be in, but the moonlight bleached it clean of anything vaguely recognisable and now it was eerie, ghostly, alien. She could barely see the bookshelves on either side of the window. Picture frames took on an ethereal gleam while the pictures they held stayed faceless in shadow. Everything was black or white, hidden or shown, one or the other, with no room for details in between.

               She looked to the side, at the light switch sitting by the door. Maybe she should press it… but if anyone woke up, they’d be able to tell she was in here, and then they’d come in and ask her what she was doing and that might be - well, a little hard to give an answer to.

               Noie gave a wry smile as she moved from the door. Hard, because she didn’t really have an answer to begin with.

               As she walked forwards, she felt how different the carpet was to the rest of the house; heavy with shag, it ate the sound of footsteps, leaving a silence that put her on edge. It was like the scene in every horror movie where the music drops out - she was primed for a jumpscare.

               Even though it was silly. Nothing was going to jump out of the shadows, and nothing did.

               She did bump into the desk and almost scream, but that was her fault for not paying attention.

               “Aaah-! Ohhhh, you…” Noie took a deep breath, waiting for her heart to settle. “Are just a desk, aren’t you. You’re just a desk… I got scared by a desk. Cool, that was, that was not an overreaction at all. Good job, brain. Gooood job.”

               With a little chuckle, she let her eyes wander down to the all the picture frames sitting in front of her. It hadn’t been an exaggeration to say there were dozens; the house used to have these pictures everywhere, pictures sitting atop every counter, on every coffee table, in every room.

               Noie picked up one, and tilted it towards the moonlight.

               Pictures of David, and Allie, and a young Leon. Pictures of a happy family spending time together. Pictures that tugged on her chest in an odd way, because she really didn’t know if she’d ever seen her Grandpa smile like that.

               She certainly didn’t remember her Grandma looking that young, that present - all suited up, with a sharpness in her eyes that was gone now - and then… well, and then there was the brown-haired kid beaming up at her, and she certainly knew that his name was Leon and he’d grow up to be her father.

               Beyond that, things stopped being so certain.

               Noie stared at the picture for a few more moments, and then placed it back with all the others. David had pretty much taken all these pictures down by the time she was eleven; he did it slowly, so she didn’t really notice them going.

               She picked up another one. This one was the three of them again, but older and joined by her mother; huh, she’d picked up one of the pictures with her in it. There weren’t all that many because she liked to be the one taking photos - that was what her Grandpa told her once.

               “Nice lady,” he’d also said. “She was always real nice to us… a bit shy, kept to herself, but nice. Wish I could’ve known her better.”

               And that was all Noie would learn of Pinni Argenta. It was funny seeing her mother in photos, because for as little as she knew about her, they shared such a striking resemblance: her mother had the same thick black hair, the same short, solid build, the same sunkenness to her eye sockets that made her look a little intense if she wasn’t smiling.

               It was funny, because all those similarities made her see something other than shyness when she looked at these pictures. She was clinging to Leon’s arm, true, and she wasn’t quite looking at the camera, and her smile was a little distant… but it wasn’t tense. Nothing about her looked tense - only thoughtful, like something had crossed her mind as this photo was being taken and drawn her away from the moment. She had her sealskin coat on, and one hand was fiddling with the collar, much like how Noie fiddled with her shirt when she was thinking something over.

               As she was doing now. Noie smiled when she noticed that, and glanced one last time back at the picture.

               She saw how Leon leaned into her, too, how he had his arm around her shoulders, his engagement ring glinting on the hand that held her close.

               She saw his beaming grin, his eyes shining bright with so much happiness and hope for the future… and she put the picture back.

               Maybe it was a good thing David took them down.

               They were good pictures, and it was nice to look at them from time to time, but they didn’t really feel like pictures of her family. They made her feel weird - not bad, exactly, but kind of hollow in her chest.

               She didn’t think she’d like looking at them every day.

               It was quiet for a moment, and Noie stood still, lost in thought.

________________________________________________________________

                               “One moment, please.”

               Noie wasn’t surprised to hear this by the gates the next morning. She suppressed a groan; couldn’t this angel guy find any other time to talk to her?

               She felt Dipper’s nails digging into her skin, and gritted her teeth. Seriously, any other time. That’d be great.

                               “Ah, yes, I am here now.” The officer shuddered, blinked hard, then grinned down at her. “Apologies, child. I am guiding many minds today, making all the necessary preparations for your brother. It will all be in place soon, have patience.”

               “Uh, alright. Good… job?” She shuffled forwards. “I’ll just-”

                               “But do not worry, child, that does not mean I have neglected in my duties to you.” He moved to cut her off. “When I assured you of my support, those were not empty words; indeed, an angel like myself is incapable of such deceit. Did you know that?”

               “Um, I-”

                               “I am glad you know that now, so you will believe me when I tell you I have nothing but humanity’s best interests in mind.” The officer put a hand on her shoulder, and his grin turned… almost wistful. “You are flawed, but I forgive you your moral failings - they are born of living in a flawed world. Even I cannot stay so innocent here.”

               Noie took a step back. She didn’t know what to say to that, and Dipper’s growl when she nudged him back was not helping. The officer cleared his throat.

                               “But I digress. I see you have a math test today.”

               “I do?” She had no memory of that; right now, school was so far down her list of priorities it was almost laughable. “Oh, heh, thanks for reminding me, I guess. I should go cram for that - think you could let me through? You’re, uh, cutting into study time now, so that’s… yeah.”

               The officer just stared at her, and she trailed off into an awkward silence. It stretched for a long moment before he cleared his throat, and spoke.

                               “I shall be watching over you, child.” He said, then he stepped to the side. “Good luck with your studies.”

               “Uh, thanks, I guess.” She walked a wide circle around him. “Good luck with… that. Bye!”

               Noie sped away with Dipper in tow and didn’t slow down until they were inside the building, far away from his gaze. She still felt watched, but she could push it aside for now; she could deal with her brother.

               She looked back at him, and cringed at the glow in his eyes. Yep, this needed to be dealt with.

               “Hey, Dipper,” she spoke softly, putting her hand on his shoulder and coaxing him over to the edge of the hallway. “It’s okay. You’re okay, you can wake up now.”

               He just curled his lip. A low, distorted growl emanated from him, and Noie’s smile twisted in on itself. She squeezed his shoulder, drew him into a hug, held him close and shut her eyes and tried to pretend this was all normal, this was all just her and Dipper with no demons or angels in between.

               “You can wake up now. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” She clung to him, burying her face into his shoulder, whispering, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”

               He shifted his weight. His grip tightened on her hand. “M͠iza̛r͜?̧” he asked, and she shook her head.

               “No, Dipper. I’m Noie, I’m-”

               “M̙̻͎͔̞̰ͅi͚͙͖̟ṉ͓͍͉̭̙e̲̥̮͉.̪͇͓̘̝͘ͅ”

               She stiffened at that voice. The menace in it stopped her heart, and she flinched when his arm came up and clasped around her. It didn’t feel like a hug.

               “S̼̲̟̬̩h҉̞̪̱͙̙e̹͕̼̭͢ͅ ̯̱i̞̬̙s͖̳̤ͅ ̛̭̬͈͚̯̝m͖̩̩̘̦i͈̜͕̗n̩̣̯̜̘̰e̯͇̩͙̦̜,” He growled, and Noie couldn’t breathe. She didn’t dare to. “S̼̲̟̬̩h҉̞̪̱͙̙e̹͕̼̭͢ͅ ̯̱i̞̬̙s͖̳̤ͅ ̛̭̬͈͚̯̝m͖̩̩̘̦i͈̜͕̗n̩̣̯̜̘̰e̯͇̩͙̦̜, S̼̲̟̬h҉̞̪̱͙̙e̹͕̼̭͢ͅ ̯̱i̞̬̙s͖̳̤ͅ ̛̭̬͈m͖̩̩̘̦i͈̜͕n̩̣̯̜̘̰e̯͇̩͙̦̜, S̼̲̟̬̩h҉̞̪̱͙̙e̹͕͢ͅ ̯̱i̞̬̙s͖ͅ ̛̭̬m͖̩̩̘i͈̜͕̗n̩̣̯̜e̯͇̩, sh͡e ̷is..͢.”

               And slowly, it faded away, until Noie couldn’t hear him over the thumping of her heart. She felt him go slack; pins and needles flooded her hand as his grip loosened. He sagged against her, moaning in pain, and the reverb had vanished from his voice, but…

               Well, it took a second for Noie to embrace him again. Her eyes were still wide, and her hand was still throbbing, and that voice - stars, that anger - was still echoing through her mind.

               She is mine, it said, she is mine, SHE IS MINE!

               And she stared at the far wall, and she patted Dipper’s shoulder, and she didn’t hear the bell go off over all that shouting.

________________________________________________________________

               They weren’t black, but they were blackened. And cracked; the ends were all chipped, and a few of them were splitting down the middle. Red and inflamed skin lined each one, quickly fading to a colour that was pale, maybe even blue - it was hard to tell in this lighting.

               Noie squinted up at the fading evening light, and wondered how long she’d been studying Dipper’s fingernails. Judging by how dark it’d gotten, probably way too long.

               Stars, she was going crazy.

               Or maybe she wasn’t.

               But she probably was.

               But she probably wasn’t, too. Who knows? Who even fucking knows anymore?

               With a long, deep sigh, she brought her hands up to her face, and pressed them against her eyelids, pressed hard. She could hear her heart beating, and the muffled sound of her grandparents watching TV in the living room, and she could hear Dipper dying right in front of her right now-

               He wasn’t dying. No, he wasn’t dying, okay?

               He was just… getting sicker, and sleeping more, and zoning out. She didn’t even really need to distract him with vampire books anymore; she was more worried she’d leave him behind in a classroom, sitting there blankly, staring at a wall…

               And that morning after he went all demon, he said he threw up blood in the bathroom, and the terror in his face-

               He wasn’t dying! All these headaches maybe weren’t great for him, but he wasn’t dying! She wasn’t going to let him die. She had a plan, okay?

               She had a plan! Everything was fine, she had a plan! She. Had. A. Plan.

               EVERYTHING WAS FINE, SHE HAD A PLAN SO CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

               Noie exhaled, and glowered at her shaking hands. “I’m talking to you guys,” she told them. “What’re you even freaking out about, huh?”

               They clenched.

               “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” She snorted. “Take that… literally just my hands. Stars, what am I doing? What am I doing.”

               Dipper groaned; she remembered he was there and clamped her mouth shut. She thought she might’ve woken him up when he shifted, but it was him rolling onto his side, pulling the blankets tighter around his body like a little cocoon.

               She gave a wry smile at that. How on Earth did he sleep with blankets? It was so stuffy in here, she was sweating in a tank top.

               ...

               His forehead felt like ice. But then again she ran hot, so it could just be her fault. It could always be her fault.

               Noie’s eyes strayed down to the blackened claws tipping each of her brother’s fingers.

               Who knows, she thought, rubbing the band-aids on her hand.

               Between angels and vampires and the thought of Dipper dying in her arms, who even knows anymore.

               “Please don’t die.” Noie said. She felt a lump in her throat. “Please don’t die.”

               It was now dark outside. The sun had set on them both.

               “Please don’t die.”

#transcendence au #Noie's Brother #dipper #Noie #toothwrites

[fictionrevealed]

this was many months in the making, on & off. this is based on a pregame thread i had with @compulsivelylied​ that was so cute i couldn’t not expand it into a full on fic. ~1.6k words.

“shin-kun, not to be rude or anything, but you haven’t told us where we’re going,” your friend pants, quickening his pace to match your long strides. 

“you’ll see,” you say, beating back a wide smile with every ounce of restraint you had. it’s not like you to keep minor secrets –– it doesn’t take much for you to start dumping any information you had on the lives of danganronpa actors and upcoming seasons. but when it came to matters of the heart, you keep them locked away in the depths of your conscience. up until now, yuuto couldn’t know. he shouldn’t know, for if he did, you might feel rejection’s sting. but now you have no choice. yuuto is moving schools in april, and you can’t let him go without at least telling him. he is the only person you could trust in this shithole anyway.

“...that’s not creepy at all,” he mumbles, but in this abandoned hallway, his words are as loud as thunder. you scoff and roll your eyes. “come on, it's not that bad. it's...”

admittedly, the choice of venue is a little makeshift, but you know that it will give you some much-needed privacy. you always came to this classroom when you needed time to decompress or just to let your thoughts wander. no one has set foot here for many months, so you know that you’re safe from the prying eyes of hall monitors and the staff.

as you take yuuto’s hand in yours, his gaze flickers toward you. he gives you that look of confusion, and the lump in your throat returns with a vengeance. it twists around your tongue, squeezing it like a boa constrictor until you’re not sure if you can speak. you’ve rehearsed this moment in the mirror until all you could hear was your script... so why were you feeling this way? how do you explain what you’re about to do without freaking him out? how do you tell him how you feel if you don’t know if he’ll reciprocate? 

that is, until a tendril of an idea unravels from its coil, its bright light piercing through the clouds of doubt. pulling out your phone, you scroll through your music library, muttering under your breath as you try to find the perfect song. perhaps if glancing out of the corner of your eye, you can see yuuto's brows furrowed in confusion.

the incredulous “shin-” floats into the background, replaced by a gentle guitar. and as if guided by its strings, you tentatively take yuuto’s hands and start swaying side to side. a gentle smile curves upon your lips, encouraging him to join you. his words halt in their tracks as he lets the music enshroud him like a warm blanket. for a while, he stares off into the distance, those eyes tracing patterns in the specks of dust suspended in the sunlight. then it seems to click –– his playful laughter floats in the musty room, mingling with the soft duet of voices. he lays his hand on your shoulder and you almost jump at the sudden touch. but upon glancing at his expression, your body relaxes. he’s nervous too, but there’s something in that gentle smile that eases your worries–– like a weighted blanket pressing on your shaking body. you place a trembling hand around your friend’s waist and ease him close to your chest. 

“ah… is this okay?” you whisper, loosening your grip so he could slip out at any time. “yeah, it’s fine...” he says, a gentle smile blooming upon his lips. “i...kind of like this.”

you nod, and the music drapes itself in a silver cloak, protecting you from the burdens of the world. it’s just you two, spinning and swaying around the empty space. you laugh in earnest for the first time in forever, tension melting into the dusty air. you can’t count how many times you’ve accidentally stepped on yuuto’s foot or almost bumped into a wall. still, you smile as your heels click brightly on the classroom tile.

as you dance past the window, yuuto steps into the dying sunlight, gilding his frizzy, dark hair in pure gold. the light erases every worry line and faint scar, leaving behind a face that shone with such gentleness that you forget how to breathe. his mismatched eyes glisten like a pond in an enchanted forest, framed by long eyelashes that emanate magical light. it takes you every ounce of restraint to not fall under his spell. you sigh and spin him further into the light. you want to suspend him in this sunbeam, gaze into those eyes for just a moment longer…

the song fades into the musty air, the last note ebbing slowly into nothingness. now the silence is as pure as the sunlight filtering through the windows, surrounding yuuto in a warm cocoon of light. in that moment, you see all of him, his joys, his sorrows, and you finally realize that his arms are the home you've been seeking for so long. 

"what?" he laughs, his unrestrained grin gleaming gold. "yuuto-kun..." it's strange... despite your heart pounding against your rib cage, his name flows off of your lips as smooth as melted chocolate. you can't wait any longer. all the hours you spent rehearsing your speech in the mirror... all of the awkward smiles and accidental touches... everything you shared with him has led up to this moment.

"i..." anxiety bubbles in your throat, threatening to trap your tongue in its sticky grasp. breathe, shinichi. it's going to be okay regardless of what happens. worse comes to worse, he'll just let you down easy and you'll just… keep being friends. the void in your heart is familiar to you –– what’s another few years with it?

"so uh… i know you’re moving soon, but... there's something i've been m-meaning to say to you s-since... well, since i first laid eyes on you." confusion flashes across his face, tilting his head ever so slightly. his thin lips form a small “o” as he sits atop one of the desks, inching his fingers along the sides. go on, i’m listening.

you swallow down the lump in your throat before continuing, "e-ever since we first met, i knew you were s-special. not in like, a creepy way or anything but there's something about you that always made me comfortable. y-you're always there for me, and just..." you pause, letting your thumb trace mindless shapes into his back. you know he doesn’t mind the touches –– it always calms him down. you're almost done. just... say it. "that's just what i love so much about you, y'know? the fact that you can d-deal with s-someone like me...i-it's just incredible."

and just as incredible is how much you've leaned into yuuto's space –– you're so close you could count every single freckle on his marble skin. “shinich–” he begins, but you kiss the last syllable away, soft and chaste. he clenches onto your shirt and your heart stands still. is...is this really happening? you want to bite your lip to ensure this isn’t a dream––

but before you can say anything, he returns the kiss. it’s just as soft and gentle, and although there’s no fireworks or sparks, it’s better than that — it’s a wave of warmth that fills you up, spilling from your heart to yuuto’s chapped lips and rushing from his body to yours and back again. from the crooks of your elbows to the tips of your ears, every inch of you is saturated in love. after a few moments, you pull away, heat surging through your cheeks. try as you might, you can’t hold back the “wow,” that slips past your lips.

and just as you lean in for another, he laughs once again. his laughter slices through the silence like a machete through a forest of sugarcane, and you want to make a home in the earth with the rats and cockroaches. pathetic. weak. you expose your heart for once in your pathetic life, and all he does is laugh in your face. until you notice the wine-colored flush upon his cheeks. take a good listen: is there real malice in his soft voice? 

no, of course not. yuuto watanabe would never hate you for opening up to him, not after everything you have been through. you push your glasses up your nose to distract yourself from the tears itching at the corners of your eyes. you can’t cry, not now. that’s not what real men do. you turn back to your friend, forcing your eyes to meet his. “s-so... do you like...want to be my b-boy...boy...” why can’t you say it? it’s two simple syllables — you can do it.

“ah, yuuto-kun, w-will you go out with me?” you blurt out, a little too loudly. after everything you’ve been through, this had better not be a fluke. wiping away your tears, you force yourself to look into his eyes, big and wide and gleaming in the dying sunlight. your heart beats out of your chest, hammering out: say something, please.

the “o” on his lips spreads out into a wide smile, and he leans in once again, catching your tears with every kiss. it’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. perhaps it’s the ticklish sensation of lips on your cheek or the sheer joy welling up in your eyes, but you can’t stop the soft chuckles bubbling from your throat. his dark hair brushes against your skin up and down in a vigorous nod. yes, yes, yes, i'll be with you.

you've only experienced moments like these vicariously through your vast collection of movies and t.v. shows, preserved in pristine silver. but if this is real life, you don't ever want to let go. you clutch onto your new boyfriend’s hands, tracing promises of fealty on his soft skin.

#drabbles. –– investigation notes. #in character. –– & on your back; you carry the moon. #saiouma / #005: pregame. –– i won’t hesitate to smile while you suffocate & die. #[ #i couldn't not repost it from my ao3 but! #gosh i love them! #i will die for my good boys #hope you enjoy! #]

[ernestsinclairs]

Flatline - Ethan Ramsey x MC

Ethan Ramsey x MC (Trina)

“Time of death, 2:42 AM.”

Somehow, that hurt worse than the monotone beep of the flat monitor line. A sudden rush of nausea overcoming her, Trina shook her head and stumbled away from the gurney. The sounds were coming now, overlapping in some kind of unsettling orchestra. The squeak of shoes against the linoleum tile, the continuous beep of the machine, it all whirled together in a cacophony. It had seemed so much easier to deal with in medical school.

“Someone get the family,” an older nurse sighed, snapping at a squadron of younger ones to wheel the bed away. “Doctor, what now?”

The words took time to register, and Trina hurriedly blinked the confusion away. Yes . . . Doctor, that was her. Wasn’t it?

“I’ll notify that family,” she mumbled in a voice that sounded strangely underwater. “Which room?”

“Waiting Room 2B,” the nurse said, already moving away, obviously hardened to these types of occurrences. “Godspeed.”

Rubbing away at an invisible speck of dust, Trina walked numbly down the fluorescently lit hallways, wincing as the glare hit her face. Whether it was the shock from what had just happened or the effects of a fourteen hours shift, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was both.

The young doctor paused outside the door, neatly marked with nothing but a bronze plaque and a faint crayon stain left behind by a wayward child some time ago. On the other side of that door would be a family. Or what would be left of one, Trina realized, wincing, nausea rising in her pit as her sister’s words from so long ago coming back in a flood.

“You’ll regret this some day,” her older sister mumbled, inhibitions gone from a few mint juleps at the local bar. “Seeing people die all day? That does real shit to you.”

“I’ll save people,” Trina shot back, playing with an empty tequila shot from half an hour earlier. “That’s why I want the job.”

“And I wanted a law job because I thought I’d be making that paycheck. Well, being a paralegal sucks and so does the paycheck.”

She smiled, the winsomeness not quite reaching her eyes.

“Choose well, Trina. You’re not the one to deal with . . . oh you know . . . dead people, I guess.”

“Rookie.”

The memory vanished and Trina whirled around, nearly colliding into the front of a white coat. The clipboard in her hands fell, saved thankfully just before the clatter could echo down the hall.

“Rookie, why are you dawdling out there,” Dr. Ramsey asked shortly. There was little malice in his eyes, yet so little warmth. 

“Informing the family,” Trina answered doing her best to meet his gaze. “The patient didn’t make it.”

“The gunshot wound from earlier? The one that had the trauma surgeon shaking his head?”

“Has to be that one.”

“Of course.”

The conversation lapsed into silence and Trina bit her lip, desperately looking for a way out. Of course, the only way she could see was that door behind her, and the family waiting within. A few more seconds of awkwardness was all the more desirable in comparison.

“Watch and learn, rookie,” Dr. Ramsey said curtly, wrenching open the door and striding in with practiced care. Why Trina had expected something less, she didn’t know. He must have made dozens of these calls by now.

“Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc?”

A slight woman with wisps of dyed blonde hair, arranged in an immaculate bob of a PTA mother rose, her hand still clasped firmly around an older man’s arm. Fresh lipstick had obviously been applied, the tiniest smudge of powder visible on the handle of her purse. The measures would be useless. All facades cracked at this type of news.

“My son, they told us to wait in here, he went into surgery, the nurse, I-” the woman stuttered, hand rapidly patting her husband’s arm. “He’s the doctor, he has news,” Mrs. LeBlanc said nervously, voice beginning to quaver. “Come on, listen to him, listen.”

“Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc, I have been in this field for over a decade,” Ethan Ramsey said smoothly, settling down in a chair next to the mother. “And there is one part of this job that never gets easier.”

The woman’s mouth opened, but closed upon the absence of sound. An eerie silence began to hang in the air, and Trina backed away, wishing to melt away into the leaves of that awful potted plant a nurse had brought in last week. Shame it wasn’t big enough.

“Your son made it through surgery, but there were still some . . . complications,” Ramsey said slowly, obviously testing the waters. Finding no fault so far, he continued.

“We did the best we can, but there was some internal bleeding.”

His words slowed even further if that was possible. The mother’s eyes widened.

“I’m truly sorry, ma’am. But your son didn’t make it. It was simply too extensive and there was little anyone could do.”

Silence. Then a wail. 

“I’m truly sorry,” Ramsey said quietly, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s back before rising. “If there’s anything I can possibly do, please let me now. We’ll leave you know.”

He turned away, nudging Trina’s shoulder in an obvious attempt to get her to follow. She duly did, the sound of their footsteps obscured by the woman’s heaving cries in the corner. 

Here, she was torn. Her arms ached to wrap that mother in an embrace, try to convince her - and herself, that there had simply been nothing left to do. Her feet ached to carry her out, to leave this terrible grief behind, forget it behind a glass of scotch at Donahue’s.

“Don’t,” Ramsey whispered, voice barely audible, almost as if he could see exactly what she was thinking. “It never turns out well.”

“I know,” Trina whispered back as the door shut behind them. “But isn’t there a chance?”

“A slight one. More often than not though.”

“So I shouldn’t -”

“Yes. Let them grieve. It’s only for the best.”

Biting her lip, Trina turned back to the tiny window, watching the little outlines of the parents as they mourned. 

“It’s the second patient I’ve lost,” she said slowly. “Dolores was the first. No offense, but I think you were wrong. It’s not getting easier yet.”

“Yet,” Dr. Ramsey corrected. “It’s not getting easier yet. This job does this. We all get hardened. Just don’t let yourself get too hard.”

“I thought you would say that’s a good thing,” Trina replied, a weak smile breaking out before fading just as fast. “Helps us work faster, doesn’t it?”

“It helps us work more mercilessly. And that’s the worst thing you could ever be.”

He leaned in closer, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly but gently, blue eyes focused on her green ones.

“Don’t lose the human part of you. I’ve seen too many in this field do that, and they’re the worst ones of all. Be happy. Be said. Just don’t forget who you were when you first walked in through the door as a rookie.”

“It’s been a week, Dr. Ramsey,” Trina said. “I don’t think I’ll forget about being a rookie for a few more weeks at least.”

“I hope not,” the older doctor shot back, a slight edge of wry humor replacing the earlier somberness. “You still have work to do.”

“Yes, work,” Trina sighed, shuffling her feet and resisting a peek at the clock behind them. It would be hours before her shift ended, yet it was hard to think about that fact. “Like filling out the . . . death certificate.”

“Let me take care of it,” Ramsey said, cutting her off brusquely, tone softening as he took in her face. “Dr. Varma may need some help. She has extra rounds today.

He softly pushed her off in the opposite direction, a strange tenderness about the way his hands slipped off her shoulders. 

“Go do your job, rookie. And I’ll do mine.”

#OH #open heart #pb #pb fanfic #pb fanfiction #pixelberry #pixelberry fanfic #pixelberry fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfic #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey headcanon #ethan ramsey headcanons

[time-art-psu]

Johnson Fieldwork 3

Part 1 

https://youtu.be/0oS5gvoVO_E  Ryuji Ikeda - MEMORANDUM OR VOYAGEThis piece is a video installation with sound elements. There is a long screen, I would estimate around 5 x 20 feet that stretches out lengthwise along a wall. This screen whether a large television, many televisions put together, or a projection, I cannot tell. It is a seamless image that flashes through the screen. The noises are very glitchy in nature, almost as if the piece itself is a giant hard drive that is currently copying data and we are specks of dust floating by to witness it. In the beginning the screen pans from left to right, almost like a heart detection monitor, different images of dancers appear to be trapped in this screen. As the show progresses, there are moments when the screen goes black for a moment before hundreds and thousands of small words begin to fill the screen to almost completely white. The words themselves seem to come from encyclopedias as you try to read all of them before they disappear. We then see a large map, but only bits and pieces. The map is very geometric and follows the overall glitchy aesthetic. 

Part 2

I am still trying to figure out exactly what I am going to do to be honest. I have had a difficult time pinpointing exactly what resources I have and what I want to convey. I have had some ideas. I think that it would be interesting to do an interactive scavenger hunt. The beginning of the piece would be just a blank screen with one word, like a hint. It would lead to another screen in another room and the viewer would have to solve the puzzle to see the next piece. I’ve also thought it would be cool to do something similar but with sound. The viewer listens to a recording that instructs them to “go check under the sink in the bathroom” or something and they get taken into this story. I’ve thought about doing a calm chamber. A closed space made by 4 sheets with projectors on each side that shine nice colors and images with a gentle music soundscape. Whatever I eventually decide, I would like my piece to be calm and gentle. I don’t want the viewer to feel uneasy, I want there to be a sense of discovery that the viewer gets. I welcome any feedback about these ideas because I think it will help me to get started on this project sooner.

[whispersafterdusk]

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 6

Time passed quickly when all he let himself think about were his lessons; some days Kestrel introduced something new, some days she made him review what he'd already learned.  He had reached a point where throwing frost, water, fire, wind, or lightning was second nature, able to do so in the blink of an eye with both hands aimed in front of him or pointed in different directions (and he'd even managed to get the spray radius almost up to that of a two-handed cast - something he was definitely proud of).  

He'd also been introduced to casting earth and rock spells (there really wasn't any better descriptor for those) and, because of that, had learned that one of the locked doors he hadn't been able to explore opened into a very long, gently sloping staircase that led to a large storeroom. ((Continued below cut))

"This sort of magic will strengthen you against physical sorts of damage similar to a ward's defense against magic and allow you to change the landscape around you but, unlike with fire, frost, or lightning, you aren't able to simply create earth or stone out of nothing...I have yet to figure out why," she'd explained.  

Within the storeroom were stacks upon stacks of wooden logs, carefully preserved bolts of cloth, empty bottles and a variety of tools and pieces of things to repair the tools; at the very rear of the room where there had once been logs was where Kestrel set him to practicing these new spells -- he'd called stones from the ground and shaped the soil, and had dug the back of the room out further (and learned that yes, she had not been exaggerating when she'd said that moving earth like this was difficult: the harder he pushed outward the more the soil he was exerting force on and the effort required to keep moving it kept increasing exponentially unless he was careful with how he pushed and adjusted things).

Between the earthen spells and his ever strengthening wards (practice, practice, practice) Onmund was actually confident in his own defense - far more than he'd been at the College, that was for sure.  He'd been trapped down here, by his count, for about five and a half months and he was already well advanced beyond what he imagined his peers were at.

Of course...it was difficult to think about them, or about anything else on the surface; nighttime was the worst time to be alone with his thoughts.  His supposed immortality aside, it hurt to think that he'd never see anyone he knew again...he'd never love or get married, have a family, he'd never adventure and see what the world had to offer.  He was trapped in an elaborate hole in the ground, and would possibly be here until the end of time itself...and at night when his tired mind caught him unaware the realizations cut deeply, and made his eyes burn and his heart ache.

And strangely, it made him wonder how Kestrel had managed to be alone for so long.  From the little snippets here and there he gathered that she'd been alone for nearly fifty years or so before he'd fallen down here, and that while she'd had quite the number of apprentices they had been spread out over long periods of time interspersed with even longer periods of total isolation.  How had she not gone mad?  How had she wrestled with the feelings of loneliness, of regret and longing?  She still refused to tell him her exact age and he knew she had to be ancient...perhaps it was a question of time needed -- time needed to mourn and miss things, and time to heal and move on.

He still hadn't asked her what had happened to the man before him; she didn't talk about him aside from the odd comment here or there, explaining how whatever she was teaching him was something she'd discovered alongside that previous apprentice, and she'd let slip no hints whatsoever about who he'd even been or how long he'd dwelled with her.

It was a mystery he woke up one morning deciding he needed an answer for: if the previous apprentice had been gifted immortality then where was he? Surely, after all her warnings and sympathy about Onmund being unable to ever leave, she hadn't actually LET the other man leave.

"...may I ask you something, before we begin today?"

"Of course."

He hesitated a moment, slowing to a stop about halfway to the Hall of Mirrors; Kestrel took a few steps more to notice he'd paused before she stopped and turned around.

"The spell you have on me... If you created that with your last apprentice, and it also gave him immortality...why were you alone when I fell down here?  What happened to him?"

She smiled faintly and shook her head.  "I was wondering when you'd work up the nerve to ask about those that came before you.   Follow me, I will show you something."

She turned around and started back down the hallway but instead of the Hall she went to her own room; Onmund followed and once he was inside saw that her room was nigh identical to his in layout save for a flat table-like structure covered with a cloth in the center of the room, a coffin of white wood that stood next to a wardrobe, and a polished, pale brown wooden coffin on a wide, tall stone slab where a bed should have been.  With a very intricate, complex wave of her hand and an uttered word the stone slab ponderously moved aside to reveal a hole carved into its middle -- Kestrel walked over and stepped down onto the first rung of the stone ladder within the hole and, when Onmund followed her a moment later, he found the ladder went down for quite a ways (and it was tight, claustrophobic even - barely wide enough to fit his shoulders).

Eventually his boots landed on a chilly stone floor, with the only light being that pitiful amount that managed to make it from the hole at the top of the ladder down to this level; he suspected they were even deeper down than the storeroom had been and this room was absolutely frigid and their steps echoed in the space.

Kestrel conjured a series of very tiny magelight orbs - each about the size of her thumb, and sent them into the room in a flurry of light where they twinkled like fireflies; as the room steadily filled with their golden glow Onmund's eyes widened at what they revealed:

Coffins.  Heavy iron sarcophagi lined the walls to either side of what was essentially a stone vault - he could count twenty seven that had their lids on, and five more that stood open with their lids set perpendicular across their tops.  Each one shimmered in the magelight, their tops and sides polished to a sheen and with what he assumed were names carved near the heads.

"Here before you you see the apprentices of the past -- and before you ask, all save for one of them died of old age," Kestrel said softly.  "And, not all of them died down here... I have moved from den to den over the years but did not want to leave them behind, buried and forgotten."

Onmund took a few careful steps into the room before looking back to her; Kestrel nodded to him - she apparently didn't mind if he took a closer look.

Jyrmi, Brellin, Evulme, Balur, Agati... Each closed coffin that held a body bore a name and not a single speck of dust, and all of the coffins were finely crafted.  He walked halfway through the room, pausing where the magelights had stopped at the border between dim light and darkness; the room continued on but Kestrel had purposely not sent the magelights back far enough to fully light it.  The coffins to either side of him were empty...were there just more empty ones back there?

(And exactly how far ahead did she plan?  It was a chilling thought that one of these had almost had HIS name on it).

"I - I guess I understand why most of these would be here," he said slowly, looking back at her from over a shoulder.  "But I don't understand why you'd show me this - if he was immortal he should still be alive.  Why did he die?  Is he even down here?  Are one of these his?"

Kestrel conjured a much larger orb this time and sent it rocketing to the far end of the room - Onmund shielded his eyes as it raced by him - and there it stopped against the back wall, revealing a single pathetic, lonely wooden coffin shoved into a corner.

The wood looked old and dry rotted, it had no name; it was coated in dust and dirt and looked neglected.  He gave Kestrel an uneasy look and she slowly strolled toward him between the line of coffins.

"I am not so isolated here as I've made you believe," she started.  "I can choose to observe the surface world.  It's possible to come and go from here if you know how to navigate the web of protections that surround this place.  Many of my apprentices I observed for years, watching them grow and gauging their ambitions, until I offered them a chance to learn from me and plucked them from the life they had.  He was one of those...a very ambitious, curious man.  Oftentimes he was shunned for radical ideas and his penchant for asking questions, challenging 'common' knowledge.  He leapt at the chance to learn under my tutelage - I was offering him exactly what he desired, and he was the perfect companion in all aspects...TOO perfect.  I foolishly loved the man - it was difficult not to.  That was why I couldn't bear the thought of outliving him, but I couldn't bring myself to turn him either."

Onmund looked back to the wooden coffin again - it definitely didn't look like it belonged to someone that was loved.  "What happened?"

"We began to craft our spell... And when it seemed we had succeeded we were both especially cautious not to be too hopeful but also incredibly drunk on the rush of our triumph.  For twenty years we carefully monitored him - his appearance, his mental and physical health and needs.  Nothing changed.  We declared it a victory.  And when he was convinced he had immortality with no adverse side effects he went to rid himself of me - the romance had been a ruse."

She said it all matter-of-factly, with hardly any emotion, but Onmund himself was incredibly disturbed and confused.  "I...but...  But he needed you for the immortality...why would he try to kill you?  HOW did he try to kill you?  I can't so much as sneeze in your direction without going unconscious."

She laughed softly and rested a hand on his shoulder.  "At the time we didn't realize it was shared characteristics...our intentions hadn't been to share, but to gift.   And once he thought he had his gift he no longer needed me, just the vast amount of knowledge that he coveted and the freedom to move forward on his own, the-" Kestrel abruptly stopped, biting her lower lip.   "-the thing be damned," she finished after a pause.

"Thing...?"

"The thing we guard.  That he and I once both guarded out of fear for what it could possibly do," she elaborated.  "For all I know he decided he could control that too, and needed me gone so he could take possession of it.  I don't know and I don't care, and it's too late to ask him now.  To save myself I was forced to kill him, and once he was dead I felt everything I'd gained from him fade...to say nothing of how it feels to have your heart so cruelly broken."

A silence fell between them; Onmund couldn't help but stare at the coffin - his predecessor, right there in front of him, and by all accounts a traitor, a liar, and a would-be murderer.

"So he tried to attack you, failed, and you killed him.  Like you almost killed me?"

Kestrel shook her head.  "No no, when the spell was between myself and him it wasn't able to kill, and did not prevent him from harming me...it wasn't until after that - much, much later - that I figured out how to add that in.  I am not taking that chance again."  She turned on a heel and began to walk back to the ladder; the large magelight orb over the coffin in the corner extinguished and, as she walked by them, the other tinier ones began to as well.

Onmund hurried to follow her so he wouldn't be left alone in the dark, and it was a very long climb back up into her room; his arms and legs were burning by the time he hauled himself out of the opening and rolled off the stone slab onto his knees, sitting there in the floor and waiting for the slab to slide back into place before he used it to push himself back to his feet.

She was already moving toward the cloth-covered table and with a flourish yanked the cloth free; the table was a sheet of mirrored glass marked with runes and etched with constellation drawings.  At her gesture he came over to look at it -- it was amazing craftsmanship and he'd not seen anything like it before, and he wondered what its purpose was but assumed she'd be telling him if she was showing it to him now.

"This..." she said quietly, running her fingers lightly over its smooth surface, "is a scrying table.  A means to look at things from far distances - assuming what you're looking at isn't warded to block your sight."

"Scrying...  I've heard of that, actually," Onmund murmured.  He too reached out a hand to rest his fingers against the silvered glass; it was cold to the touch and he could feel a sort of latent power within it - something that would awaken with the right application of...something.  "I didn't realize you needed something like this to do it though."

"You don't," Kestrel laughed.  "You can use a simple map and a pure crystal - I prefer quartz - but it's considerably more difficult, and I dislike doing things the hard way for no reason."

"How does it work?"

"It's a combination of invested magicka from the caster, a high degree of mental focus, and knowledge of your subject or target," she explained.   "Having something belonging to someone you're wanting to scry helps but it's not required."

Onmund leaned forward, admiring the etchings and designs within the mirrored surface.  "Will I learn how to use this?"

"Of course...though, don't get your hopes up, it will be awhile.  It takes a lot of mental training that we've not gotten to yet."

The thought of being able to scry his family, his friends...to be able to see them again, even if it was just through a mirror, was a very tempting, attractive thought.  "I definitely want to learn."

With a soft chuckle she placed hands on his shoulders and turned to guide him out of her bedroom.  "In time.  To build a house you have to have a sturdy foundation - likewise, to climb to new heights with magical skill you must first have a solid foundation of knowledge."

"Yes, yes, I get that," he said with a small laugh.  He took a few quick steps to get out in front of her, shrugging off her hands.  "What are you showing me today, then?"

"I think today is a fine day to review," came her answer as she stepped ahead of him and led the way to the Hall of Mirrors.

-----------------------------------------------

Onmund had gotten into the habit of keeping a bound book of blank parchment sitting on his desk - something he thought he could have used as a journal, to leave some record of his discontent and attempts to find freedom again - and yet he hadn't done that at all.  Every morning he instead placed another tally mark in a row to keep track of how long he'd been here; by his count he'd been here eight months and six days exactly, which hardly seemed like any time at all.  

There were mornings where he woke before Kestrel came for him and he would sit at his desk and read sometimes but far more often he would retreat into daydreams -- he wondered how long the others had looked for him before giving up, how long they'd waited to let his family know he'd "died," or IF they'd even told his family yet...he knew his family would demand a body to be buried which the College obviously couldn't give them.  How angry would his parents be at them?  Or at HIM for refusing their wishes to be a hunter or farmer and becoming a mage, and (no doubt in their eyes) dying because of his idiotic choice?

There was a part of him that thought he should hate Kestrel for all this...but he didn't.  And he also thought that he should still be trying to escape despite the spell that could kill him with a thought...and yet, he didn't want to do that either (and not just because he'd die).  He hadn't even given it a thought in...a month, maybe more.  The things he was learning here he felt he couldn't learn anywhere else and...well.

Kestrel was a good teacher - a good master mage.  He had a lot of learning to do before he'd be advanced enough to help her research or anything like that but she never held that against him. She was firm but kind, never talked down to him, patiently helped when he asked, kept his curiosity and eagerness alive and strong with each new thing, and carried herself with a confidence no doubt born out of untold years of experience - that she seemed terrified of whatever it was that they guarded down here...he wondered if it was better if he never found out.  But he knew he would, eventually -- Kestrel's lessons this week had been of mental strength: sharpening his focus, withstanding mental assaults, broadening his ability to multitask (multicast?) rapidly by demanding he juggle several spells or problems all at one time.  He'd thought at first that this would be the precursor to learning how to use the scrying table - and maybe it was part of that - but the last few days she'd really doubled down on increasing his mental defenses.

She was preparing to tell him about the thing that was down here with them.  She had to be.

Another week went by, and then another.  Her lessons didn't change from the mental exercises, nor did she allow him time to practice anything other than that; it was starting to become a bit nerve wracking waking up each morning wondering if today would be that day.

And yet when that morning finally came he found himself oddly calm -- he'd been anticipating this for weeks so maybe it wasn't too strange...   Well, he supposed that he hadn't really been afraid of the Eye of Magnus at first either as he had no idea what it was at the time (and look at what'd happened with THAT).

With little fanfare (and hardly speaking) Kestrel led the way back to her room and moved her coffin and the stone slab aside again; they climbed in silence down the stone ladder to the chilled mausoleum and then walked by the dim light of a single magelight orb to the far end of the room where the wooden coffin of the last apprentice sat.  Kestrel veered toward the corner opposite of that coffin and seemed to simply disappear into thin air, though the air itself appeared to ripple like a pond's surface.  Onmund paused, uncertain of what he'd just seen, then Kestrel's disembodied hand stuck out of the midst of the air ripples and gestured for him to come closer.

He did and felt the hair on his arms stand on end as he passed through some sort of magical field; looking back out into the room was almost nauseating as everything visually rippled, like he was at the bottom of a deep pool looking upward.  There was a semi circle of runes carved into the floor and up the walls that were only visible if he was standing within it and Onmund swore his teeth were vibrating from all the power concentrated in this one tiny area; it was a very bizarre feeling overall but it did look as though they simply stood together in a rune circle as the walls and floor still remained - or appeared - solid.

Kestrel then began reaching out to runes etched into the walls, touching them rapidly and in a sequence Onmund had no hope of following; he heard a deep thrum, and felt it in his bones too, and then a sliver of the wall disappeared -- it was a sliver just barely wide enough to let Kestrel slide through turned sideways, and it was a considerably tighter fit for his larger frame.  By the time he'd squeezed through he was panting and shaking a bit from the sudden onset of immense claustrophobia and jumped a bit at Kestrel's cold hand on his arm.

The light that came through the gap in the wall seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness in this room; there was a sharp border at the edge of it's light - very sharp, like something solid stood there but Onmund couldn't see anything...but he could feel something.   Something that scratched at his mind, a mental tickle, a hissing that rose and fell with the cadence of someone speaking...something in this room wanted his attention.  A sense of unease filled him and he clamped down with the mental protection spells Kestrel had been drilling into him for three weeks; the scratching and whispering became quieter, but didn't go away completely.

Kestrel's fingers dug into his sleeve - she hadn't let go of him since they'd stepped into his room.  At her quiet word a magelight orb appeared above their heads and its light too cut off abruptly about ten feet from them as though a wall was casting a shadow there, but all Onmund could see was a deep darkness.

"I am only going to show you a glimpse," she said quietly.  "I don't dare risk anything longer than that.  Are you prepared?"

"I...I think so."

Kestrel kept her hand on his arm but tugged and pushed him ahead of her, positioning him so he directly faced the darkness; only then did her hand move from his arm to his waist and her other came up to rest at his belt as well.

Then the darkness dropped, and the whispers and scratching hit him with renewed strength.

It wasn't language as he recognized it - it wasn't words.  It was...emotion, and images.  He didn't even fully grasp what he was looking at as he wrestled to keep the wordless whispers at bay -- he saw a brief glimpse of something black and shining like obsidian, spiky and about the size of a book, and as his gaze fell on it he felt a compulsion to pick it up and put it on.

Whatever it was wanted him to wear it - it was a powerful artifact and Kestrel had no right to keep it from its rightful wielder.  He saw himself as Arch-Mage in a spiked crown, guiding young minds without fear of persecution or concern about what the damned Nords thought of his College.  All he needed to do was cross the room, pick it up, put it on, and he'd be free of his damned slave master as well.

And between Kestrel's firm grip on his hips and his own struggle to stay put he managed to cut through the scratching and non-noise, through the compulsion; he grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut - NOT looking at it shut him off from the desire to grab the...the whatever that was, though it did little to silence the noise in his mind.

And then it went silent - or as silent as it had been when they'd first entered; his heart was beating rapidly and he felt a little lightheaded, and put a hand to Kestrel's on his hip and took comfort that yes, she was still there.  When he finally worked up the courage to open his eyes he found the strange wall of darkness was back in place.  Everything had returned to normal.

He shrugged Kestrel's hands off and, on unsteady legs, squeezed himself back through the gap in the wall and into the mausoleum, falling against one of the nearby empty iron coffins and trying to get his heart rate and ragged breathing back under control.  He was only faintly aware of Kestrel coming out through the gap behind him and replacing all the warding spells; his heartbeat was impossibly loud in the quiet, and he didn't argue when she gently slipped one of his arms over her shoulder and in turn slid one of her arms around his waist and half guided, half carried him back to the far side of the room to lean him against the wall beside the base of the ladder.

It felt like an age had passed before he composed himself, and when he looked up to Kestrel she wore an expression devoid of any emotion.

"What...  What did I just look at?" he whispered.

Kestrel slowly lowered herself down to squat on her heels in front of him, looking him in the eyes.  "I call it the Crown of Domination...  I know very little about it.  It bears the power and mark of Molag Bal, and I suspect it might have even originated in Coldharbour.  Even before I lowered a few protections to let you see it you still felt its influence, yes?"

He nodded weakly.  "I - I did, yes.  I felt something trying to claw its way in, and there were whispers that weren't actually words, but I understood what it wanted me to do.  I don't even know what I really saw - just...spikes, and a black shine."

"It compels whoever looks at it to put it on...I'm not nearly brave enough to try and figure out what is meant to happen if it's worn," she said softly.  "Are you all right?"

"You keep that thing down here...so close to where you sleep?"

She nodded.  "I found it hundreds of years ago, entirely by accident.  I was unprepared for it, and my apprentice at the time..."  She shifted, turning to place a knee on the floor to balance herself as she looked back to the lines of coffins.  "That's her - third from the left.  There was once a time where I used my illusions to live freely among mortals...she was my only apprentice but we had partnered with several scholars from the capital to unearth what we'd been led to believe was a Black Book.  It most definitely wasn't - we all fell under some sort of...ensnaring mental magic.  One of the scholars closest to the crown put it on, and before I managed to break free of the spell he had already slaughtered my apprentice and all but two other men.  When I struck him down the other two fought to claim it themselves and killed one another."

"That's awful..." His hands were shaking and he clenched them in his lap, blowing out a breath.  "And you don't know what its supposed to do?"

"No, I do not.  Did you see visions?  Promises of power?"

He nodded.  "I saw myself as Arch-Mage, teaching others...unafraid of the Nords and their stupid attitudes toward magic.  And free of you and your spell," he added after a pause, glancing up to her uneasily.

She turned around, looking thoughtful; carefully she folded her legs under her to sit on the freezing floor.  "It may very well be it just shows you what you desire, or what it thinks you desire.  I can't be certain because what it initially showed me was nothing I had ever wanted once in my entire, considerable life."

"I've never thought of ever rising to the rank of Arch-Mage.  I just wanted to learn," Onmund murmured.  He again glanced to her and then quickly looked away -- he didn't want to be Arch-Mage, and he'd thought that he didn't want to leave either...he thought he'd come to terms with that.  But if the crown showed him something it thought he wanted - if it was going to show him whatever it needed to to make him put it on...

With a huff he forced himself to look back at her - he would try to understand his own thoughts on that half of it later.  "If that thing is so dangerous, why risk anyone else?  If your last apprentice actually did want that crown for himself -- I mean, is the spell on me enough to protect or deter me from that?  What if it DOES get to me somehow?"

She smiled kindly at him.  "It won't.  My wards and simple distance between you and it has worked for far, right?"  At her question he nodded.   "You have nothing to worry about.  And as for why I would risk other apprentices...it was always my hope that we would find a way to safely destroy it - or, well.  A way TO destroy it, period.  Maybe you will be the one to help me with that goal...I certainly hope so."

Onmund was silent a moment, letting that sink in; he might technically be a captive but if they found a way to destroy the crown then he'd be a hero, and there'd be no reason to stay hidden away down here.  "-if we destroy it, we could leave, right?"  Kestrel tilted her head, looking at him curiously; that she hadn't immediately said no encouraged him.  "I mean, if we don't have to guard that thing anymore, we could just go back to the surface.  You said you used to hide among mortals - there'd be no reason to stay hidden down here anymore, right?  And there'd be no reason to forcibly keep me with you either since there's no secret left to keep.  Not that I'd leave," he added hurriedly.  "You've taught me a great deal and I want to learn more.  But...if the crown is gone...?"

With another kind smile she leaned forward to pat his shoulder, then stood and moved to the ladder.  "It's fine to dream of the world from time to time, but don't let it distract you from what we must do."

"I understand.  I understand a lot better now."

"Good.  Go and rest...we'll begin again tomorrow."

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 6 #Onmund #AU #Skyrim