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violet-knox · 4 years

Text

Returning Home

Part 2 of Conflict of Interest

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: You head back to Hogwarts to fight for the Order during the battle and find Severus to get answers to your questions.

Warnings: Angst... with a capital A 👉👈👉👈 Death, Blood, Voldemort and more angst

Word Count: 8386

A/N: This takes place a few months after part 1 in the middle of the war. I’ve pasted a few quotes from the book which I’ll mention at the bottom to avoid spoilers and obviously the credit for that goes to JKR.

Obviously I've been writing too much fluff lately soooooo...... I'M NOT SORRY!

Part 1

Everything was in ruins. The castle in a worse state than the night you’d left, abandoning your home, the responsibility you had to the students that now lay dead on the floors of the one place they were supposed to be safe, the place their parents had put their faith in when they agreed to send them back in September. You’d abandoned your love, your life, everything you’d held dear. A job that gave you everything yet left you feeling so unfulfilled. But what choice did you have? Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, your partner and thought to be soulmate had done exactly what you’d feared and led the once great school into war. And where was he now? Hiding away somewhere to save his skin? Or perhaps he truly was the Death Eater everyone but you believed him to be, gone to stand by his Master’s side. Oh how the great have fallen, crashing and burning to the ground with nothing to show for but betrayal and loss. What would he say to you now that your nightmares had all come true? All that hope you’d carried for him gone. How could he possibly explain this chaos and exonerate himself from the horror he’d caused?

Every corner you turned you were greeted by more bloodshed. Innocents dead, Death Eaters throwing every type of Dark Magic left and right. Not a single stone in Hogwarts walls was left undamaged; some chipped or torn out from its place and most others displaying the blood of students, staff members, Aurors… your friends, ex-colleagues and peers. The sight made you wish you’d both arrived sooner and never shown up at the same time. It made you wish you’d done more than the petty hunting you’d taken part in these last few months. What good were a few caught Death Eaters now that they’d all gathered and attacked the school, destroying the place you’d left to protect?

Heading down to the end of the corridor, you turned towards the loudest of the three halls the castle offered you, filled with nothing but chaos and found a few Aurors, some you recognized, others you thought were too young to enter such a racking fight, defending themselves against a bundle of Death Eaters. You quickly joined them, throwing curse after curse, standing by their side, holding your own against the Dark Magic thrown your way.

You’d barely begun defending the school when suddenly, the wall behind the Death Eaters you fought exploded outwards, sending rockets of stone their way. You quickly shielded yourself, casting protego and watched as the school defended itself. Every Death Eater was thrown off their feet, some greeting death as soon as they hit the ground and others finding themselves not so lucky, facing wounds that would defeat even the best Healer in the world before facing down the end of an Auror’s wand.

Holding your wand up stead, you made your way towards the rubble, casting the killing curse towards a Death Eater the second you saw them twitch and stepped over the broken wall to a sight even worse than that you’d previously been greeted with. Groups of students lay dead as others ran down the corridor only to fall at the hand of another Death Eater. You couldn’t stand the sight and your anger grew the more you thought about how insignificant your helping hand really was these last few months. You were only one person, what could you possibly do to truly help these poor kids?

Making your way down the hall, you did what you could, saving as many students as possible until you heard the familiar sound of a voice you could have sworn could only belong to man of the hour himself, the Chosen One; Harry Potter. But it was him, it had to be, who else would be so bold as to use the name of you-know-who so openly, especially at a time like this?

"You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it, Harry- look inside him!" You couldn’t recognize the girl's voice at first, the fear hidden in her tone masking her usual confidence, but of course it had to be Miss. Granger.

Silence fell a while and you edged closer towards them, still hiding behind the broken wall, keeping your presence scarce.

"He's in the Shrieking Shack,” Harry finally spoke. “The snake's with him, it's got some sort of magical protection around it. He's just sent Lucius Malfoy to find Snape."

Your heart nearly stopped at the mere mention of Severus. So, it was true. It was all true and you’d been too blinded by love, convincing yourself his words were enough to believe when they were nothing more than lies. Your vision blurred as you placed a hand over your mouth, trying to keep from falling apart, tears running down your cheeks. You slumped to the ground and all the noise, all the chaos around you disappeared as you spiraled down the rabbit hole of grief. There was no need for a spy now, no need to pretend during this wad and if Harry’s words were true, that left you with one obvious conclusion; Severus Snape was a Death Eater.

"He's not-he's not even FIGHTING?" Hermione had never sounded so outraged before, her risen voice snapping your mind back to reality. Your head pounded, fighting your heart which begged to find another explanation for Severus, anything to prove what you had with him wasn’t a lie. You wanted so badly to believe you’d hallucinated this conversation, that Harry had made up what he said was true but the more they spoke, the more your hope faded along with your dreams of a pleasant reunion.

"He doesn't think he needs to fight," said Harry. "He thinks I'm going to go to him."

You closed your eyes, unable to hear anymore. Your head felt like it was about to implode from rejecting the fact that Severus had lied to you, telling you he was fighting, spying for Dumbledore when he’d double crossed the Order, he’d double crossed you. Placing your face in your hands, you brought your knees up to your chest, taking deep breaths as you tried to clear your mind. Now was not the time to panic. Now wasn’t the time to feel resentful. A war had broken out and you were in the midst of it. The important thing right now was to fight and win this battle before all was lost to the darkness that had enveloped your love.

But if Severus had been truthful to you, the one person in his life you knew he trusted more than anyone, then perhaps there was something going on greater than these attacks. Something you were unaware of. Why was Harry Potter looking for that snake and why was it so heavily protected? If anyone knew, it would be Severus, and if Potter and his friends were planning to make their way to the Shrieking Shack then it was only logical for you to go with them. Even if Severus had betrayed you, even if there was no deeper plot, you could still do your part and protect the boy who lived. He was supposed to be the key to winning this war after all, so the best thing you could do for the sake of the Wizarding World was find the truth and protect him.

Just when you’d finally made a decision and jumped back up to your feet, you heard two Death Eaters shouting for Potter, approaching him with their drawn wands. But Miss. Granger had beaten you to the punch, attacking them before making a break for it. With the sudden chaos that ensued, you could no longer spot them. You honestly weren’t sure if they’d decided on their next move, but you knew at least one of them would head to the Shrieking Shack which meant they would all do what they could to assist.

You quickly sprinted towards the Entrance Hall, encountering Death Eater after Death Eater on your way, but finally you’d found yourself outside the castle doors, spotting Potter and his friends running out of range of a giant screaming ‘Hagger’. You couldn’t even stop to question the giant and his eagerness. Time was of the essence. You watched them sprint towards the Whomping Willow and remembered the story Severus had told you about the time he’d caught Sirius Black.

He’d told you about how he’d found him in the Shrieking Shack by following Potter into a secret tunnel under the Whomping Willow. He’d never told you how he knew about the tunnel, but at the time, you hadn’t thought to question it, enticed by Severus’ bravery and ambition instead. Whatever the case may be, his story clearly had some truth to it and could help you find your own way to the Shrieking Shack after those kids who suddenly seemed to have disappeared.

No matter, you knew exactly where they were heading, and they couldn’t be too far ahead of you. Soon enough, you’d managed to make your way to the tree that had begun aggressively swinging its branches in every direction. You quickly found a nearby branch and made your way to the knot under its trunk, immobilizing it as soon as you hit it, just as Severus had described. Ducking into the opening under the tree, you found yourself completely in the dark with nothing but silence accompanying you. Taking out your wand, you cast lumos and began making your way down the seemingly endless tunnel.

Eventually, the end came near and you felt your heart pound aggressively against your chest, your adrenaline beginning to wear as the fear of what you might encounter on the other side of this trap door ensued. You’d come all this way, there was no going back now, no backing down. This is what you’d come for, what you’d left Severus for; the chance to help end this war.

You summoned up every last ounce of bravery you had to spare and pushed aside your doubt along with the trap door, climbing into the Shrieking Shack and immediately found yourself met with an agonizing scream coming from the room next door. You slowly edged your way to the exit, staying with your back pressed against the wall, wand at the ready and found Potter, Granger and Weasley all crouched down, listening in on whatever was happening in the next room. When the commotion settled and you heard he-who-must-not-be-named leave the room, you watched the trio walk in with a lack of defensive precaution.

To say you were baffled by their motions would be an understatement. Clearly there was still someone in there and to head in acting as if they’d been called for dinner without their wands at the ready was completely absurd. You quickly moved forward gripping your own wand tightly, ready for whatever it was you were about to walk into as you followed them into the unknown room. But no amount of precaution or training could have prepared you for the sight you saw as soon as you turned that corner.

“Severus,” you whispered in complete and utter shock. He was lying there with his throat cut out, his hands desperately grasping at Potter as the floor was painted red with his blood. You felt your heart collapse, your head spin in agony as you rushed forward, pushing past Granger and Weasley, throwing yourself on the ground beside Severus. You’d never felt so helpless, so useless before in your life. You wanted to help, you wanted to save him, but you didn’t know how.

A terrible rasping, gurgling noise suddenly issued from Severus’ throat and your attention was brought up to watch his eyes desperately begging Potter for something you could never begin to even imagine.

"Take...it...Take...it..."

Memories oozed out of his mouth, eyes and ears but you couldn’t be bothered to wonder what he was doing, you couldn’t accept this. He can’t die, he can’t. He hasn’t explained himself to you yet. He hasn’t told you how wrong everyone was to call him a Death Eater, how he truly was fighting for the light, how he was simply doing as he was told standing by the side of you-know-who as Dumbledore had asked. He hasn’t told you how much he loved you.

You looked down at your wand and blinked away your tears. This can’t be it, it simply can’t. This is not the end, it just can’t be. Hovering your wand over his neck, you began muttering every healing charm you could think of, holding on to the hope that one of them would work despite the fact that you knew deep down those marks on his neck indicated snake venom was running through his veins, poisoning him and ripping out any smidge of life he had left to give.

You didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop until you felt those familiar slim fingers graze your hand. Severus had motioned for you to halt your motions, but you couldn’t accept that, shaking your head as your eyes filled with tears, looking into his. His hand felt so weak, so cold, colder than usual and his face was so pale. He was dying and you couldn’t do anything but beg and plead for him to stay.

“Please… please don’t leave me,” you whispered, leaning as close to him as you could, placing your hand above him as you dropped your wand.

Severus kept his eyes glued to yours, a few more memories escaping his lips as he focused on your touch, the delicate features of your face, your hair. He’d missed you so much these last few months; they were torture without you and he knew he’d only made it as far as he did with this mission because you’d been by his side. Even when you’d left, it was the thought of seeing your face once this was all over that kept him going. How poetic must it be for your face to be the last he’d see now.

"Look...at....me..." he whispered, bringing your attention from the second flask Granger had used to capture the last set of memories he’d given up and back to him. Your eyes met one last time before that twinkle behind his black orbs vanished, his hand slipping between yours and thudded to the ground.

“No.” The word stumbled out of your mouth as you desperately went to reach for his hand, grasping it tightly with your own and bringing it up to your chest. Your swallowed screams came out as incoherent whines as you tried searching his eyes, finding nothing but emptiness. He was gone.

You’d barely had two seconds to process what just happened when suddenly, the voice of he-who-must-not-be-named echoed through your ears, filling your mind with vile thoughts of anger and fear atop the grief you’d felt for your lost love.

"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."

You closed your eyes, somehow hoping that would shut him out, that it would shut out the world to leave you be or wake you from this hellish nightmare you were living. But you were given no such luck as he continued to speak, his voice resonating the agony and despair you felt.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

Dispose of your dead. He spoke as if the lives lost during this war were nothing more than trash to him and why would he care? He who never learned to love, never cared for someone as you had Severus. You couldn’t bear looking at his eyes anymore knowing they’d never look back at you. His hand lifeless in yours, never to hold you again. Placing two fingers over his eyelids, you closed them and placed his hand over his chest before reaching into his robes where you knew he stashed his wand to retrieve it.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you.” His voice still rang in your ears and you finally remembered you weren’t alone. There was still a battle to be won, a war to end, lives to save. “You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

"Don't listen to him," said Weasley.

"It'll be all right." Granger’s sudden wild tone threw you back and you felt yourself go stiff under all the stress and grief this war had brought. "Let's-- let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan--"

The trio all stood to make their way out, but you couldn’t move a muscle. Eyes closed, you hung your head and planted your palms on the ground. You had to wake up, this couldn’t be real. These last few months, they must have been a dream. You’d dreamt it all and you were back in bed with Severus in his chambers at Hogwarts sleeping next to him after making up. It was the only reasonable scenario because this simply can’t be real, it can’t.

“Professor.” But Granger’s voice had just proved you wrong. This was your reality and it was too much for you to withstand. You wanted to stay with Severus no matter what it may bring, yet you knew you couldn’t. You had to protect the children, the students and help the Order fight against that monster.

You took in a deep breath and shoved your grief into a cupboard in the depths of your mind, locking it shut before jumping to your feet, griping hold of your wand along with Severus’ and the flask of memories Granger had left for you. You followed Potter and his friends back through the tunnel from which you came, nothing but silence passed between the four of you as you tried to wrap your head around the events that just occurred.

You couldn’t think straight. It was all just too much. You wanted answers, you wanted to help and that was supposed to be the point in your trip to the Shrieking Shack but instead of having your questions answered, you’d been shown nothing but what you’d lost and could never regain.

The darkness accompanied you out of the tunnel as you exited out of the Whomping Willow and dragged yourself to the Great Hall, following the others. You felt unhinged, like this reality wasn’t your own and perhaps it wasn’t. It was the cruel reality of fate, rejected by those who’d stood over their love’s empty vessels.

You somehow felt yourself envious of those mourning the ones they lost in the Great Hall because at least they could mourn knowing they were loved, hugging those still present in the land of the living. Walking down the room, you gazed upon the students, Aurors and staff members lost in the war, the survivors huddled in groups where the house tables used to stand. Nothing more than hardship and devastation passed from one person to the next.

Fresh tears streamed down your face at the thought of Severus lying there alone in the shack where you’d left him. He should be here. You should both be huddled in the corner alongside the others thanking Merlin you’d survived this long instead of this loneliness you felt accompanying you as you found your way to the nearest wall, throwing your back up against it and sinking down to the ground.

You brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, instantly rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort yourself. You’d never felt such a cascading rush of emotions before, thoughts of anger and resentment replaced by agony and remorse the second you saw Severus on the ground. In that moment, it didn’t matter to you what side he was on. He was your heart, your soul, your everything and he was gone.

You could never speak to him again, never see him or touch him. It wasn’t fair. You’d never gotten the closure you needed after you’d left and now you felt like you never would. You’d hoped the end of this war would give you the means to find the closure you needed, whether that be accepting Severus as the Death Eater he was or the brilliant and brave man you’d come to know him as. You’d never thought of the possibility you’d be faced with his death instead because he’d always seemed so invincible to you. He was an amazing Wizard with skills you were sure would have rivaled Dumbledore at his best. The possibility of his death seemed laughable back then. Even now as you sat there, playing back what you’d seen, what you’d heard, you weren’t sure what had happened, why he-who-must-not-be-named would kill him when he’d gained his favour last year, becoming his most trusted follower after killing Dumbledore.

Questions upon questions piled up in your mind and suddenly it became clear to you what you had to do next. The war no longer mattered to you, the battle felt like it had taken place eons ago. You needed answers and the flask Granger had handed you may very well be the only thing you had to provide you with what you needed most.

Quickly standing to your feet, you began making your way to the Headmaster’s office, your pace fastening the second that gargoyle came into your line of sight. You were about to mutter ‘Dumbledore’, hoping Severus hadn’t changed the password since you’d left when the gargoyle spun open with none other than Harry Potter stepping out of it. Your eyes met and you both froze in place, each one aware why the other was there. It was you who’d moved first, taking a step toward the open door before you heard him speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice small and shriveled. “I didn’t know.”

You looked back at him and watched as he handed you his flask, unsure of what he meant. You took it regardless and gave him one last look before making your way into the office. You’d spent many nights here, speaking with Severus, watching him take orders from Dumbledore’s portrait. You’d resented the place honestly, feeling it too crowded, too grand. You much preferred his old office next to the potions classroom, but with the way he looked when he first entered the room, clearly ecstatic about it all had you keeping your opinion to yourself, letting him enjoy the bit of luxury he’d been given.

Your eyes finally met with the pensieve, unsurprisingly pulled out of its place. Slowly, you made your way towards it and looked down at the two flasks in your hand. Without a second thought, you put away the one Harry had given you, opening the second one and poured its contents into the pensieve. The blue and silver looked beautiful swirling around in the water and you only hoped the memories you’d see as you dunked your head in would be just as alluring a sight.

The room spun and you felt yourself falling into darkness until a clear image of Diagon Alley rolled into view. You looked around and noticed the lack of people roaming the streets. It didn’t take long for you to spot Severus in his oversized robes, making headway towards Flourish and Blotts. I remember this night, you thought, smiling to yourself as you quickly followed him into the shop.

Severus made his way straight for the academic section of the shop knowing exactly where to look as you let your eyes roam around the store searching for…

“Hello.” Ah, there you were. “Do you need any help?” Your cheeks burned red, feeling awkward at how innocently young you looked back then. You were so clueless back then and it almost hurt to watch you interact with Severus. Though despite the clear lack of love between you both, at least your past self had the pleasure of speaking to him at all. It was more than you could ever hope to do now.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Severus looked you up and down, seemingly unimpressed with you but looking at him now, you realized he’d hidden a small smirk behind his ‘better than life’ attitude.

“That obvious?” You’d cracked a smile at him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Yes, you could remember this day very clearly now; he was the first customer to have actually struck up a conversation with you while working here and it made you nervous.

“No,” he replied, looking down at the book he had in his hands. Leaning in closer, you realized he’d done that thing he always did when he was nervous and let his hair fall in his face to hide his growing smirk before composing himself and looking back at you. “I shop here every few months and this is the first I’m seeing you.”

“Ah, a regular. Perhaps I should get to know your name then,” you said, pushing yourself to do as you’d been told and show the customers nothing but a willingness to help as you offered him your hand. Severus looked down at your open palm, hesitating before firmly grasping it.

“Severus Snape,” he said, looking into your eyes and shaking your hand. You could almost feel his slim, dry fingers grazing the inside of your palm just looking at the figures you knew were just memories. But you couldn’t help the tears that gathered in your eyes, it was so good to see him so full of life again.

“Well, Severus Snape, do you always shop in the boring section or do you ever explore the rest of the store?”

You chuckled at your own joke, whipping away your tears and immediately looked at Severus, watching him scuff in response before the memory washed away, snatched from you just when you felt yourself reconnecting to him.

“No!” You shouted into the nothingness surrounding you, turning in your place as colour began to settle into place revealing the empty streets of Hogsmeade with Severus standing in the middle of the road, looking as though he was contemplating doing something regrettable.

You ran up to him, standing before him and examined the look on his face. All you wanted to do was cup his cheeks, wait until his eyes met yours and ask him what was wrong, but it was just a memory. You knew if you reached out, you wouldn’t feel a thing. He’d pass right through you and you just couldn’t handle that disappointment. So you held back, waiting for him to make a move instead.

After taking a few more moments, he finally began to walk down the street, stopping right in front of The Three Broomsticks as if he was afraid he’d run into someone undesirable the second he walked in. He paused once more as soon as he’d stepped inside, looking around before making his way to the bar. You followed his lead and walked with him as you searched the practically empty pub; the few people who were present all seemed to be minding their own business, nothing out of the ordinary really.

You watched him slump into a seat, clearly nervous about being here for reasons you didn’t understand. You’d come to this pub with him multiple times and he’d never acted this way. Unless, perhaps, this was the first time he’d stepped foot in Hogsmeade since the night he was thrown out The Hogshead, that would definitely explain his nerves.

Severus suddenly went completely stiff and as you followed his line of sight, you realized why.

“What can I get you Severus.” Your younger self had immersed once again, this time as a bartender. The shocked look on Severus’ face amused you. He’d never looked so confundled before he’d met you for the second time.

“Are you following me?” He shamelessly let out.

“Me?! I’d do nothing of the sort,” You placed a hand on your chest adding a bit of sarcasm to your tone, acting as though he’d offended you to the highest degree while offering him a small smile. Severus eyed you a moment and you laughed at the interaction, realizing now how silly it looked from an outsider's perspective.

“Firewhiskey,” he finally said, adjusting himself in his seat to get comfortable. “Double.”

You looked over to the bar and watched as you reached for a clean glass and a bottle of Firewhiskey. “So, what brings you to Hogsmeade?”

This was the second time fate had brought you together and you remembered thinking it had to be some sort of sign, that coincidence couldn’t possibly explain this encounter when you’d done nothing but think about finding him again after you left your old job. You were nervous that night when you saw him again, wondering if you should go as far as to get to know him a little.

“I work at Hogwarts,” he said, watching you pour his drink before pulling out a second glass and doing the same for yourself. “What are you doing in Hogsmeade?”

You tore your eyes away from the drinks your past self was pouring and looked at Severus to find an oddly curious look on his face. He seemed intrigued rather than skeptical as the tone in his voice perceived.

“Fate,” you said, smiling to yourself, keeping your gaze on the bottle you had in your hand as you sealed it and went to put it back on the shelf behind you. “I got let go at Flourish and Blotts. Said they didn’t need me after the school rush anymore, so here I am.”

You picked up both glasses and offered him one. Watching the interaction had you suddenly feeling the aftertaste of the Firewhiskey on your tongue as your own image take a sip. At this point, you remembered wanting to know more about Severus. He was intriguing to you, different than those you’d met in England thus far. He seemed to have lived a long life despite looking to be in his late twenties. Looking back at Severus, you began to wonder what he thought of you the first time you’d met.

“So, what do you do at that mysterious school?”

“I’m the school’s Potion’s Master,” he replied before taking a large sip of his own. “Have you never been to Hogwarts?”

He rose a brow at you and you could see his curiosity peek. You’d never noticed it before, but knowing Severus now, he must have thought of you as something special if he’d shown you any sort of interest.

“Nope,” you replied with a little too much enthusiasm. “I was sent to Beauxbatons because my parents thought it was more conservative.”

You shook your head, blushing at the sight of yourself speaking of your upbringing. Keeping your eyes on Severus instead, you began examining his expression, trying to memorize every detail of his face. But once again, the image before you began to vanish, and you found yourself in the darkness once again. It seemed as though fate also had a cruel sense of humour, taking away the thing you love just when you felt yourself ready to grab hold of it again.

Spinning around, you tried searching for the new image that should have formed around you by now, but you could only make out a few lights to your left and you’d begun to think something had gone wrong until you realized you were in the dungeons of Hogwarts. You were standing in Severus’ old chambers, before he’d become Headmaster. All you could make out was the pale tone of his face reflecting the yellow candlelight and his hands which were held up close to his neck.

Walking closer to him, you realized he was standing in front of his mirror, tying his ascot, looking nervous once again. You smiled and simply admired him as he looked his reflection up and down, obviously unhappy with what he saw, but you couldn’t say you felt the same. He looked perfect to you, even his hair which he couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with.

You’d never seen him like this before, so worried about his appearance, unable to stand in place. Finally, he walked away from the mirror, whisking away into the sitting room where he began pacing, debating something you could see he was on edge about. You bit your tongue, wanting to ask what was wrong until you realized how stupid that was. He wasn’t really here, this wasn’t really him and you’d clearly been shifting through these memories long enough to forget that.

You frowned, just standing there waiting in anticipation for him to make his next move. Eventually, he composed himself enough to open the door to his chambers and make his way out towards the Entrance Hall where you finally remembered what night this was; your first date.

This was the first time you’d seen him out of his teaching robes, all dressed up in his navy-blue formal attire. You’d been waiting on the other side of the doors he’d opened, probably more nervous than him. He’d visited you many times at the Three Broomsticks after your first encounter there, finally offering you a tour of Hogwarts months later when the students had all left for the holidays.

You watched yourself step inside from the cold, shivering with your arms wrapped around yourself. You let out a giggle as you realized how nervous his first date with you had made him. It was adorable, though you knew what Severus would say if he’d caught you using that word to describe him. ‘Kittens are adorable (Y/N), I am not.’ Though you would respectfully disagree of course.

“I trust you weren’t waiting too long?” He said as he closed the doors. Your younger self was busy brushing snow off your jacket, but you could see the concern in his eyes. You knew that look and it saddened you to see him wear it so early in your relationship. How had you not noticed before his worry over disappointing you had started before you’d even officially began to date?

“Not at all. You’re just on time,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. “This school is huge! Will we have time to see it all today?”

“No, but I thought I’d show you the more grand parts of the castle before dinner,” he said, accompanying you down the hall.

“So, does that include your classroom?”

You followed the figures, watching Severus closely, his eyes beginning to soft as he grew comfortable with you. It was an amazing first date and you were happy to relive it.

“If you wish.”

The figures suddenly disappeared as they walked down the hall and you found yourself standing in the dungeons again, this time outside of the Potions classroom where Severus was hesitantly leading you. You remembered this part of the tour; the best part of the castle, unable to help yourself from imagining him teaching a classroom full of students, but it was clear Severus didn’t feel the same way. His nerves were back and he looked unsettled as he opened the door to let you into the room.

“Wow,” your younger self said under your breath and you just couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were exaggerating your interest and it made you wish the next memory would appear already to relieve you of this embarrassment. But you held out and kept watching if only to remember the lust you knew would blossom between the two figures in the memory.

Ignoring your weak attempt at flirting, you instead resumed your admiration for Severus, trying to read his thoughts through his expression, but all you could see was the unsettlement he’d shown back in his chambers when he was preparing for your date. His eyes darted back and forth from one table to the next, analyzing it as if he was searching for a reason to punish some non-existent students. Was he nervous about the state of the room? Is that why he’d hesitated when you begged to see his classroom earlier that evening?

“So, is this where you work? This is your desk?” You spun around at the sound of your own voice, following Severus’ line of sight to watch you run your fingers over his desk at the head of the class.

“Indeed, it is,” he said cautiously walking up to you. You followed along and watched him approach you as you leaned on the edge of the desk, smiling as if you were about to do something devious. A moment of silence passed, both figures exchanging looks before you spoke again.

“Thank you for today Severus. I enjoyed the tour,” you bit your bottom lip and pushed yourself up so you were standing but a small grasp away from him. There it is.

You sighed out of sheer joy when you saw Severus’ breath hitch as your figure leaned in, placing both hands on his shoulder and pressed your lips to his. He went stiff and you could feel his lips press against yours as you watched, your fingers instinctively hovering over your mouth at the loss of contact you felt.

Your smile grew and tears formed under your eyes when he began kissing back, wrapping his own arms around you, pulling you in tightly before your image quickly pulled them both back a step, enough so that you could jump onto the desk without ever parting from him. The kiss quickly became heated as you wrapped your legs around him, his hands slowly making their way up the desk as he leaned forward, your back pressing against the wood of the desk. Your first kiss looked so normal from here, but at the time, you felt it to be the most magical moment you’d ever experienced. He was amazing the first few months you’d spent together, you could relive every second of it and you only wished you could. It was nice to see this moment again, but you wanted more. You wanted to feel him, to feel the emotions you felt when you were with him back then, not just observe the faint memories of you both falling in love with one another.

“No,” you whispered as the classroom behind the two on the desk began to fade. “Not again, please!”

You begged the nothingness that gobbled up one of your happiest memories, but it was too late. They were gone and you found yourself in yet another memory, a more recent one by the looks of it. You were in your shared chamber; the Headmaster’s chambers. You heard the door slam shut and began looking around, trying to find your figure along with Severus.

“No,” you said when you spotted him, realizing what memory this was. “No, Severus please. Why would you show me this night?”

You spoke to the figure as if he could hear you but of course, he ignored you and slumped into his armchair, the light from the dying fireplace illuminating his outline enough for you to kneel right before him, looking desperately into his heavy eyes, tears forming, threatening to fall down your cheeks as they did his. This was the night you’d left, the night you regretted full heartedly and it hurt to see the aftermath of your fight; the broken man that sat before you.

“I’m sorry Sev, please, I shouldn’t have left, I’m sorry,” you said desperately before giving into the one urge you’d been fighting during this trip down memory lane and tried to place your hand over his only to have it pass right through. You couldn’t bear the pain anymore and felt yourself break down as the memory kept playing. You placed your face in your hands and let your heartbreak escape through the tears you shed.

You’d do anything to take it all back if you were given the chance. If you had a time turner to spare, you’d sit there spinning it until you went back to the right moment to fix things, no matter how long it took. If you’d stayed with him, you could have helped save him, you should have stayed to convince him to fight for the Order. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never should have left!

Was this your punishment? To be reminded of what you could have had with him? What you’d lost after making the biggest mistake of your life? You kept your head in your hands until you heard Severus shifting in his spot and you opened your eyes just in time to watch him pull out a box from his robes. You looked down at it, focusing your vision to watch him fiddle with the box, the same nervous and disappointed look you saw from your first date, the first time you met now scribbled all over his face once again.

“Oh Sev,” you whispered as you peered inside the box he was slowly opening, revealing a small, but elegant engagement ring. Your vision blurred again as fresh tears formed at the realization of what you’d done. You wanted to scream, to cry until time reversed itself and gave you the chance to rewrite history. He loved you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you and you’d slammed the door in his face, rejecting him before he could even ask, all because you let this battle, this damn war cloud your judgment of him.

Severus suddenly stood and you instantly rose, staying as close to him as you could while he walked over to the fireplace, picking up the clock you’d given him for Christmas the same year you’d begun dating and popping out its bottom. He slid the ring inside the clock and reassembled it.

“Oh Sev, I wish you’d asked,” you said through tears despite the fact that you likely wouldn’t have given the same answer back then as you would now. It was true what they said; you really didn’t know what you had until you lost it, and it took losing Severus to know that what you had with him was real and true. It took losing him, knowing you could never speak again to realize how much he meant to you, no matter which side of the war he stood.

Looking back at the clock, you watched it disappear along with the fireplace.

“No, no not another one, please I can’t take anymore,” you pleaded, but it was no use, Severus was gone and once again the scene around you changed and you were back in the Headmaster’s office. For a second, you thought it to be over, that you’d been freedom from your ward, but when you looked to the side of the room, you saw the pensieve was put away and all the figures in the portrait present, which meant this was yet another memory. You let out a defeated sigh, feeling as though this truly was a punishment you weren’t sure you could bear any longer.

“Severus, you made a promise.” You spun around when you heard Dumbledore’s voice, trying to search for his figure, but it was Severus you’d found instead, standing in front of a portrait, looking as broken as he did in the last memory. “You must stay by Lord Voldemort’s side until the time is right. You’re the only one that can do it.”

“You should have picked someone else,” he said looking as miserable as ever. You’d in fact never seen him like this in all the years you’d known him; broken, hollow, left with no ambition, nothing left to live for. “(Y/N) left yesterday. I’ve lost everything to this war.”

You walked closer to him, realizing what he was saying, what he was asking to do. He wanted to come after you, to abandon his post, the position he’d worked too hard to gain, killing Dumbledore, betraying everyone he cared for, all to become he-who-must-not-be-named most trusted follower. He was ready to throw it all away for you.

“You said-”

“I know what I said! I was wrong!” He spat at the portrait. You took another step towards him, ready to make the same mistake you’d made earlier and attempt to hug the memory only for it all to disappear before you. This time, instead of a new memory replacing the darkness, you felt yourself being grasped and pulled out into the real world.

You feel back onto the floor, losing your balance when you came out of the pensieve. All those memories, everything you’d just learned was all too much. Severus hadn’t betrayed you after all, he wasn’t a Death Eater, he was a hero and he’d died just that. You should have gotten up, returned to the battle that was sure to resume any moment now, but you couldn’t. Your body couldn’t handle any more. You couldn’t do anything but lay there on the floor, crying until you had no tears left to shed.

It all felt so meaningless now; winning the war, defending the school. What was the point when you felt like you’d already lost? The hour was up but the chaos had yet to resume. You barely had the energy to drag yourself up and recollect all of Severus’ memories let alone join the others and see what would become of Hogwarts.

Closing your eyes, you took in a trembling breath, trying not to think about the breakdown you felt was on the verge of exploding out of you and gathered yourself enough to leave the office. Standing there as the gargoyle closed, you looked down the hall that led to his chambers. You weren’t ready to revisit the place where it all fell apart yet that’s where your feet were taking you.

Everything was right where you’d remembered it, nothing had changed, not even the picture you'd taken together at the Yule Ball, still propped up on the coffee table beside the armchair. It still smelled just like him, the closet in the bedroom still full of clothes; yours on the left, his on the right. He hadn’t bothered to throw a single thing away, your comb, your toothbrush, your journal still sitting exactly where you left them, nothing had changed.

Waking over to the bed, you picked up his pillow and pressed it to your nose as you closed your eyes and slumped down onto the mattress. Hugging his pillow with the upper half of your body pressed against the black silk covering the bed was the closest thing you felt you’d ever get to feeling his touch, smelling his hair or finding comfort in his arms. Still it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.

You missed him so much, more so now than you had the last few months you’d been apart. Your body shock but you had no more tears left to shed. Your mind searched for memories of Severus, but you couldn’t find any more left to mourn over except the last moments you had with him. His eyes slowly glazing over with darkness as his soul escaped your world, leaving you behind.

He’d spent his last breath sharing all of himself with you and you had to honour that. He died so that the Wizarding World may prevail, and you couldn’t let that go in vain. You composed yourself the best you could, thinking of the victory you had to win for him and dragged yourself back to the sitting room.

You looked over the bleak outlines of the furniture you’d spent hours sitting in with Severus before making your way to the fireplace. Picking up the clock, remembering that Christmas morning you shared together, you turned it over, popping out the bottom to find the ring he’d hidden still sitting there, waiting to be worn. You removed it and placed the clock back in its place, shifting the ring around between your fingers to reveal text engraved on the inside of the band: ‘Always and forever yours’.

It was a beautiful ring, small, but you were never one for theatrics and he knew that. The diamond in the middle was crystal clear, pure as he’d once described you to be. Beside it, two small emerald stones were placed on either side, signifying his promise to you; that he will always be with you no matter what the future held. Looking at it now, the memory of him holding it in this exact spot where you stood, you could almost feel his presence around you, as if he’d just proposed and you’d abruptly accepted like you so desperately wanted.

You quickly whipped away the single tear running down your cheek and slowly slid the ring on the ring finger of your right hand, symbolizing what should have been but never was. He was gone yes but his legacy would live on, you would make sure of that.

Before heading out, you searched your pockets and removed the flasks carrying the last memories of your lost love and placed it next to the clock on the fireplace, removing his wand from your person as well, carefully laying it before the clock.

“You can rest now Severus,” you whispered, hoping that by some miracle, he’d hear you from the afterlife. “I love you so much, I hope you knew that.”

And with that, you slowly backed away from the fireplace and withdrew your wand, ready to fight for the good of the Wizarding World, for Hogwarts, for love, for Severus Snape and everything he stood for.

A/N: Ok, I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Scenes taken (and edited) from the books: Harry looking into Voldemort’s find to find his location and the heartbreaking shrieking shack scene.

@marvelschriss @bush-viper-cutie @moonie-writes

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rainbowwritesthings · 3 years

Text

A Place On Earth

Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him. The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it.

Second chapter of I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.

Hughie stared blankly at the ceiling, blinking at the shocking white that surrounded him, everything felt numb and he was brought back to when he had gotten his wisdom teeth removed years ago.

Awareness took its time visiting Hughie and when it granted him enough presence he sat up with a grunt, his chest felt oddly tight for some reason and when his hand brushed a certain area he shivered.

Some deep part of his lizard brain was screaming at him that something was wrong, that he needed to get up and leave now. Hughie had successfully gotten out of the bed when he noticed his attire, plaid pajama pants and an oversized shirt that he had never seen before.

The numbness was receding and with it Hughie realized he wasn’t in his apartment, he was in one of the safehouses. Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him.

The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it.

Hughie couldn’t breathe again; his lungs were filled with blood and it caked his throat as thoroughly as tar. A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and Hughie fought it back with a strangled shout, loud buzzing was just barely audible over his heart.

Instead of Soldier Boy a very blurry but familiar face swam into his view, blinking hard and rubbing at his eyes Hughie was better able to see the man kneeling before him. The familiar rumble and what it was saying was lost to Hughie, as was the expression the man wore. Hughie forced air into his burning lungs.

“I- didn’t.”

It was too hard to breathe, he was drowning again, the bones from his shattered ribs were pressing into his only good lung. “I didn’t know. Swear to god I didn’t-.”

The way Butcher had looked at him with horror filled his mind and spots danced around his vision, from his shaky gaze he watched Butcher rise and walk off.

Fuck, was the man going to bring out his crowbar to see what he could come back from?

MM was suddenly kneeling before him; both his hands were held up and his posture was purposefully non-threatening. His lips moved continuously, and Hughie found himself trying to focus on them. When MM saw the spark of awareness, he tried to help the man out.

“It’s ok now, just breathe. In and out. Ain’t nothing going to happen to you while I’m here. Easy Hughie, in and out.”

He began taking exaggerated breaths and Hughie tried to match them with unsuccess, time disappeared and was filled with Hughie taking in shuttering breaths to match MM’s exaggerated ones with occasional praises from the medic about how Hughie was doing.

Finally oxygen was reaching it’s necessary locations in his body and Hughie realized he was sitting on the floor. He glanced around the room wide eyed, searching for something but even Hughie didn’t know what he was looking for.

MM had lowered his hands and gave the man a small smile, “there we go. Now, I’m going to grab you some water ok?”

Hughie gave a jerky nod and as MM rose to retrieve said water, he wondered where the rest were. Though he mainly wondered were Butcher had stalked off to after his brief appearance. MM made sure he was noticed before he crouched in front of him, every move was steady and easy for the shaken man to be able to track.

When he held out the water bottle Hughie thanked him, though he knew that his words were likely to jumbled for the other to understand when even he, the man speaking couldn’t understand what words escaped his lips.

It wasn’t until Hughie was reaching out to grab the bottle that he realized how badly his hand was shaking and he needed both hands to even grip the plastic. He took two sips under MM’s watchful eye before setting it down now to him, most likely making sure the man didn’t drown while trying to drink.

Hughie had calmed down from his earlier moment of panic, but now fear had replaced the panic that consumed him.

“What- “

He cleared his throat in hopes that the other words he had to say would come out less cracked.

“What’s the plan?”

MM rose an eyebrow at the question and Hughie wished he would just rip the band-aid off and tell him already. Explain to him how they were going to finish him and what they would do with the pieces, logically Hughie knew his true corpse would most likely resemble Translucants’s remains.

“So far the plan is to stay low, figure some things out before putting together a real plan on how to take care of SB.”

Despite MM not saying the full name, Hughie still flinched and saw those hazel eyes staring absolutely bored over his whole existence. MM didn’t say anything but was watching Hughie intently after discussing the groups plan of action, no matter how flimsy it currently sounded.

“No, I mean- What’s the plan for me? How are you going to-“

Hughie couldn’t finish the question. The words got trapped in his throat, stuck around the thick blood that was creeping ever forward. His chest felt tight once again.

MM wasn’t looking at him now but when he did look at Hughie his eyes displayed his inner distress, “Hughie man, we ain’t going to kill you.”

Hughie felt a sudden burst of hysteria.

“Don’t lie to try and protect my feelings MM. I fucking died alright?! Yet here I am! I’m a godamn Supe and who the fuck knows what powers I have. You, Frenchie and Kimiko may learn to be ok with that but Butcher-. He stared at me like I was a monster and I’m with him on that one.”

MM’s face morphed into a scowl, he obviously wanted to fight everything Hughie had said but instead he bit his tongue, and he shook his head.

“Almost everything you just said was bullshit man, and you need to listen close when I say that no matter what you can do it’ll never make you a monster.”

Hughie believed that MM believed his own words, but that didn’t change the fact he was a Supe in a relationship with a man who hated Supes more than anything. Personally he would rather everything that was going to happen, happen now rather than waiting for months for the other shoe to drop.

When it did Hughie doubted there’d be much left of him anywhere- and oh god his father.

“Ok, ok. Look MM you need to promise me something.”

The man gave him a long look before sighing, “I won’t promise anything ‘till I hear what it is. I learned my lesson a long time ago with Butcher.”

Hughie nodded and took a steading breath before he went forward.

“Look when I die for real and permanently, however that works. You have to give my dad an actual body to bury. I don’t care if Frenchie fixes up a mannequin, he won’t look that close once he thinks it’s me, but he needs a place to actually mourn at. I don’t- he can’t spend the rest of his life waiting for me to come home, he doesn’t deserve that.”

Somewhere in Hughie’s youth he developed an intense fear of going missing, not just because of what it meant for Hughie and the whole human trafficking thing. Mainly the fear surrounded what effect it would have on his father.

Hughie’s mother walking out the door and dissolving into the mist had crushed a large part of the man’s soul. If his son were to do the same, it would destroy whatever was left of Hugh.

MM looked at him with a hard expression before he let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, I promise.”

Hughie let out a breath of relief, at least his father would find some semblance of peace though he knew it wouldn’t ease the pain. MM was staring at him again and Hughie gave him a weak smile, which caused the man to shake his head and stand up.

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours, but I can tell you it’s way off.”

Hughie let out a small huff of laughter, and MM looked down with an odd expression.

“Now first of all, don’t panic. Butcher has something he wants to say to you. We’ll all be in the other room just in case things go south, but you should hear him out.”

Instantly Hughie’s heart picked up, thrumming adrenaline throughout his body by the mere idea of the man glowering down at him. However, MM looked so assured that everything would be alright that Hughie could only nod numbly.

He already had the man’s assurance that his father would have proper closure, Hughie couldn’t very well demand more from the group after unintentionally fooling them for however long he had compound V running through his veins.

MM leaned down to clasp Hughie’s shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze, before nodding one last time and leaving the room.

Hughie stared at the suspiciously stained floor underneath of him, looking for answers about what he was or even just a purpose for all that he had been through meant. He heard a door open, heavy footstep pausing just briefly in the doorframe before the door creaked shut.

For many people being so close to an inevitable demise would act as a chance to confirm their faith or find a new. Any other person would be considering their fate, trying to make amends with everything that they had done wrong and begging for forgiveness.

Yet all Hughie could think of was memories his mother’s smile as she prompted a dance to a Billy Joel song. His father who had been through agony but still tried to stay approachable for his son, and who tried to maintain a bond with Hughie.

Robin who made him feel alive and like a human for the first time in his life, who cracked his shell wide open and let him experience how fun everything could be. Kimiko who was often so closed off but still learned ASL with him, she figured it long before he did but took the time to help him along so they could talk freely.

Frenchie would always call him petite and smile like he was legitimately happy to see him every time the pair met up. It didn’t matter if it had been days since Hughie saw him or just hours, the man always seemed excited to see him alive.

Mother’s Milk was a mother hen, always pestering Hughie about how much he was eating or sleeping, all with concern hidden firmly under a strong exterior.

Annie, who he now considered his closest and best friend. She would be the angriest towards Butcher when the man figured out how to kill a Lazarus Supe, with any luck they wouldn’t kill each other in the fallout of the reveal.

Finally Billy, who hated Supes as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. Perhaps it was the thing keeping him alive, allowing him to survive things that no mortal could have lived through.

Hughie could remember Billy’s arms around him, pulling him firmly against his body whether it was when they were wrapped together post cotial, or in the early morning when Butcher woke up long before he did and held the younger man tightly.

He could hear Billy whispering in his ear how the man would keep Hughie safe, no matter the cost. Finally, he could see Billy staring down at him with a look of pure despair as he watched Hughie bleed out.

Hughie knew that the despair was driven out of his apparent death and that considering what he was now that he would be lucky beyond belief if Butcher would even look at him without animosity.

His gaze kept firmly onto the floor until dark clothed legs stepped in front of him, familiar boots filled his vision and despite his best-efforts Hughie’s breath still caught in his chest. Hughie watched as dark legs bent and Butcher was kneeling in front of him, but kept his eyes away from the older mans face.

It wasn’t until Butcher let out a breath that could be mistaken for a sigh that Hughie braved a look at the other man. Butchers face was tight, every stress line was exasperated, and his lips were pulled together.

Butcher’s jaw worked for a long few moments before he looked back up, “alright lad just hear me out.”

#rainbowwritesstuff #tw: panic attack #Butchie #billy x hughie #billy butcher #hughie campbell #mother's milk #secretly a Supe Hughie

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deploybits · 3 years

Note

You are lucky some types of torture are legal, i now will have an anxiety attack looking at the sky

So here we are... The Ultima Weapon will almost certainly be housed in the depths of the complex. This is it, my friend! Gaius! Ah, Cid, my boy... You are late. There is something I always meant to tell you, yet the time never seemed right. It concerns your father. ...What of him? In the winter of his years, Midas came to abhor his part in Meteor. He told me that he wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of the whole sordid business. But he did not wash his hands of it. He helmed the project until the day it killed him! Come now, Cid... you must know that he did not have the luxury of choice. By the time he realized his error, it was too late. Meteor had him completely in its thrall. Shortly before his... transformation, mayhap sensing that something was amiss, your father confided to me all the regrets of his life. Most of them concerned you. Early on in your career, he realized that while you had a talent for devising armaments, it would never fulfil you. Long before you knew your own mind, he saw that you would be far happier using your knowledge for peaceful purposes, and the thought touched him. He was a changed man for it, though he could not let it show. You blew holes in this place just so you could say this to me!? What is it you want, Gaius!? I want you at my side, Cid. Take up your father’s mantle, and become the Empire’s lead engineer. It is your destiny. My father had a change of heart - you said so yourself! Besides, I have long known my destiny, and I assure you, it lies not with the Empire! A pity. And what of you, adventurer? Will you not consider making common cause with me? No? And I can expect no better answer than this? So be it. It was your strength that made me proffer my hand in friendship, and it is your strength that makes me proffer now my blade. Save as an ally, you are too dangerous to be let to remain. Run, Cid. Or stay. It makes no matter. You cannot escape the past. Gaius, wait! ...Damn it! Knowing Gaius, he is headed for the Ultima Weapon. If we find him, so too will we find our quarry. With these instruments, we can monitor every nook and cranny in the castrum. I think it’s time we divided our forces. Pray go on and give chase. I’ll track your movements from here and guide you through the complex. We’ll stay in contact via linkpearl. Be careful, all right? Ah, there she is! I trust you recognize our old friend. “Maggie,” was it? They must have shipped her here from Centri. Considering all she’s been through, it’s a wonder she’s still operational. Tough old girl! Now that you’re suitably armed, you can blast open that bulkhead. The external walkway will take you back there. Follow it till you come upon a way down to the lower level. That bulkhead is composed of a special alloy. Extremely tough. Ordinary fire won’t leave a mark, I’m afraid. You’ll need to divert all power to the magitek cannon, as I did so memorably once before. As you may recall, the armor’s core is like to expire from the strain, but there’s no help for it if we want to press on. Now, listen well. Press...<buzzzzzz>...the control...<fizzzzzz>...engage ancillary...then fire away. Don’t mind the warning lights. You’re a natural at this! All right, the way’s clear, but it’s just you and your own two feet now, so be careful. You have been leaving a fine mess in your wake, adventurer. Is someone there!? Garlond, old friend. How it warms the heart to hear your voice again after all these years. ...Nero? Is that you!? You sound well. It would seem this savage land agrees with you. The highest ranking tribunus of the XIVth... It was you all this time? Tell me, Garlond. How long do you intend to keep all the glory for yourself? Uh...what? You’ve lost me. Don’t play the fool with me. Ever since the Academy, I have been condemned to live in your shadow. By all objective measure, I was the more talented of the two of us, yet that fate counted for naught beside your privileged birth. You were admired as the young prodigy simply because your father was the great Midas nan Garlond! When you defected, I felt sure my star would finally rise... But by disappearing, you acquired the status of a legend - your reputed genius gaining credence merely by dint of your absence! Instead of cursing you for a traitor, the people actually came to think of you more fondly! To this day, you are still the young prodigy of magitek! I, meanwhile, have ever been made to feel second-rate - I who have continued to serve our nation faithfully. Whenever I fail to excel - why, it is only to be expected! Yet when I exceed all reasonable expectations, people proclaim that I walk in the footsteps of the great Cid nan bloody Garlond! Nero, I... I don’t know what to say. It matters not a whit what I achieve. Your existence has rendered mine worthless. Even Lord van Baelsar saw fit to offer you a place at his side - and this in spite of your betrayal! Did he extend any such offer to me - the man who has remained loyal to him for all these years? Why, no. He did not. Long have I endured this injustice...but no more. Lord van Baelsar is in the midst of activating the fully powered Ultima Weapon. It is my magnum opus - the creation that will win me the recognition I am due. I will not let anyone interfere. Nero! What are you-!? Ever since I first set foot in this benighted land, I have watched you - ever move you have made, every step you have taken. You have felled eikons, a feat made possible by the Echo, a peculiar power which shields you from their corrupting influence. It is of little wonder that my lord has taken an interest in you. As have I, if truth be told. It is my desire to harness your power for use in the Ultima Weapon. Should I succeed, Lord van Baelsar will surely take notice! Beside this, Garlond’s achievements will be as child’s play! Come, adventurer, and yield to me the secrets of your power! This changes...nothing... Ahahahaha! The Ultima Weapon is activated, and it brims with the power of eikons! Nothing can withstand its might! Are you all right!? What of Nero!? ...Fled!? Damn it! In the instant prior to the blackout, the instruments detected a massive power surge from the deepest chamber. Gaius is certain to be there! We have no time to waste! Word arrived from the Alliance a short while ago. It seems the Order of the Twin Adder has completed its blockade of Castrum Centri. What hands they can spare are hastening this way even as we speak, and likewise for the Maelstrom. All that’s left is to destroy the Ultima Weapon! ...I should warn you: the chamber which houses the target appears to be saturated with aetheric energies. There’s bound to be heavy interference. But even if we lose contact, you must go on. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, all right? Look for the lift’s control panel - it’ll be somewhere nearby. Take the lift down, and you should find yourself in the chamber of the Ultima Weapon. Keep your eyes peeled - Gaius could be waiting for you down there. Oh, and don’t even think about dying. You’re too bloody useful! The interference is getting worse. I don’t think the connection will last much - Tell me...for whom do you fight? Hmph! How very glib. And do you believe in Eorzea? Eorzea’s unity is forged of falsehoods. Its city-states are built on deceit. And its faith is an instrument of deception. It is naught but a cobweb of lies. To believe in Eorzea is to believe in nothing. In Eorzea, the beast tribes often summon gods to fight in their stead - though your comrades only rarely respond in kind. Which is strange, is it not? Are the “Twelve” otherwise engaged? I was given to understand they were your protectors. If you truly believe them your guardians, why do you not repeat the trick that served you so well at Carteneau, and call them down? They will answer - so long as you lavish them with crystals and gorge them on aether. Your gods are no different from those of the beasts - eikons every one. Accept but this, and you will see how Eorzea’s faith is bleeding the land dry. Nor is this unknown to your masters. Which prompts the question: why do they cling to these false deities? What drives even men of learning - even the great Louisoix - to grovel at their feet? The answer? Your masters lack the strength to do otherwise! For the world of man to mean anything, man must own the world. To this end, he hath fought ever to raise himself through conflict - to grow rich through conquest. And when the dust of battle settles, it is ever the strong who dictate the fate of the weak. Knowing this, but a single path is open to the impotent ruler - that of false worship. A path which leads to enervation and death. Only a man of power can rightly steer the course of civilization. And in this land of creeping mendacity, that one truth will prove its salvation. Come, champion of Eorzea, face me! Your defeat shall serve as proof of my readiness to rule! It is only right that I should take your realm. For none among you has the power to stop me! I had not thought to be so hard-pressed. Your strength is...most impressive. Such power befits a ruler! Yet you lack the resolve to put it to proper use. A waste. Allow me, then, hero, to do that which you will not! Bear witness to the true power of the Ultima Weapon! But the Ultima Weapon is all-powerful! Why does my enemy still stand!? Can her strength truly be so great? It is the blessing of Light that confounds you. Lahabrea. Your foe acts under the protection of the Crystal she bears. So, this is what empowers her. Beyond mortal limits. If you are to prevail, the hammer of Darkness must needs be brought to bear upon the shield of Light. And so it shall, for the Ultima Weapon is host to a power of which you are as yet ignorant. Speak plainly, Ascian. The Heart of Sabik. It is the Weapon’s core - an enigma whose surface even the vaunted scholars of ancient Allag failed to scratch. The magic within has lain dormant for eons. Of what magic do you speak? A spell without parallel. Ultima. I sought the life force of the primals for no other reason but to quicken the core. For the true power of the Ultima Weapon lies within its now-beating Heart! Lahabrea... What have you done? No more than was necessary...for my god to be reborn. Damn you, Ascian! The hour is at hand! Behold but a sliver of my god’s power! And from the deepest pit of the seven hells to the very pinnacle of the heavens, the world shall tremble! Unleash Ultima! Ahahahahahaha! Such devastation... This was not my intention... Oh, Hydaelyn...it seems the task of keeping your champion alive has exhausted what strength you had left. Van Baelsar... Your enemy’s shield is broken. The rest I leave to you. We will speak later, Ascian. But first, I must deal with you. The question of who is mightier remains! Come, adventurer! Let us find the answer together! No... No, no, NO! Uh! Heed me... The subjects of a weak ruler must needs look to a higher power for providence... and their dependence comes at a cost to the realm. The misguided elevate the frail... And the frail lead the people astray. Unless a man of power wrests control...the cycle will never be broken. You... You of all people must see the truth in this. You who have the strength to rule... Pathetic. You boasted of unrivaled power. You were entrusted with the ultimate weapon. The ultimate magic! And still you failed. So much for the glory of man. The growing imbalance afflicting the planet must be redressed. If it is permitted to worsen, the very laws of existence - both aetheric and physical - will be warped beyond all recognition. Know you the root of this corruption? Hydaelyn! Like a parasite, she must be burned out if the planet is to recover. And naught but the return of the one true god will ensure her complete excision. Yet to pave the way for the master’s return, a chaotic confluence of untold proportions must needs be brought about. And that will necessitate the presence of the primals. needless to say, both you and your Scion accomplices can not be suffered to interfere in this endeavor. You will not leave this place alive. It is past time your flame was extinguished...“Bringer of Light.” If thou wouldst pierce the shadows...make thee a blade of Light. What!? The Light...it binds them... They are too many!

Aaaaaaaaarrrgh!!!

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dragoonaway · 4 years

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Word Count: 1593

Synop: I wanted to kill my WoL off but then I was like nah nvm this is cool so here we are. When I played it out in my head it looked a lot better lmao.

It had been a decade, and she had not died yet.

Eorzea seemed to be okay, in this limbo of primal summoning and peace. There was no imminent war on the horizon, nor were they fighting for sovereignty anymore. Occasionally she would be called upon for an emergency when one of the beast tribes attempted to summon their gods in hopes they would listen to their cries for...whatever. She never bothered to really learn the reasons, they all sound the same after a while. The Scions had disbanded after a time, each going their separate ways and continuing on with whatever their work required. She was someone who was happy to fade into the stone of Ishgard, feeling at home in the snow and mountains.

Though she was their champion and pioneering light to end the Dragonsong War, they treated her as someone who just wanted to be left alone. That was all she asked for anyway. Her days were filled with training the next league of dragoons and their dravanian mounts, other times she was away for a while with Estinien, finding the last of those affected by his song of vengeance and trying to distinguish the last of that flame. They had not gone through with a ceremony of bonding, they were fine with just the common knowledge that it was them against the world. The last two Azure Dragoons, and the very first Crimson Dragoons.

Instead of death, she had become sanctified. The warrior who brought peace and unity to a kingdom so strife with division and war. The people knew peace now, knew how it meant to be a nation, and it had been that way for nearly a decade.

The intelligence was interesting to be briefed on, though. Once again she was called upon, not to get rid of a primal however, but to protect her home. She didn’t call the Scions and requested for them to not bother, usually she had these things all handled. It’s not like they really helped her at all when it came to slaying primals, how would a small insurgence be any different?

Oh, but it was so different.

So, so different.

She found herself restricted by invisible forces, so far greater than that of a god. Most of Ishgard’s army lay dead on the Steps of Faith, dragoons and dragons alike speared with their own lances. A force field stood glittering, separating her from Aymeric and Estinien, who watched with horror as the Warrior of Light was brought to her knees by power never encountered before. Maybe this would be her demise, then. Her blood was roaring in her ears, the steady beat of her heart picking up as she felt fear, truly, for the first time.

This would be the end.

Estinien was yelling beyond the wall, his voice barely reaching her ears. Her opponent said naught, facing her with his faceless apparition, holding her life in chains. She wished she could reach Estinien, reach him and tell him to let her go. Self-sacrifice was a thing of the past, but they came for her. The fighting had stopped as soon as they got their sightless grip on her. For all that she loved, she was willing to go. Maybe it was time. She felt like it wasn’t, but the taxing title of Warrior of Light had an expiration date that might have been sooner rather than later.

She watched her lance rise in the air, twirling delicately. The rush of her blood was louder in her ears this time and she could not feel the blessing of Hydaelyn anymore. There were cracks exploding in the air as all those attempted to break through whatever force field began to yield to the force of the Crimson Dragoon.

But it was too late.

The lance pierced the air, through her body, breaking her ribs with its force. Her breath was forced out of her, blood making its way up from her stomach, flowing at the corners of her mouth. She accepted her fate in those quick seconds, just as the force field shattered through Estinien’s sheer force of will.

But in a moment of cruelty, this being sent her body off the Steps and into the Sea of Clouds, tumbling with her own lance piercing through. The last thing she heard before slipping into the cold hands of death was the great roar of Nidhogg as Estinien called upon the wyrm’s power.

Death, however, for the Warrior of Light, wasn’t all that simple.

No, she had been blessed, but not by Hydaelyn.

“Hello, warrior of warriors.” The draconic words floated into her subconscious, and she found herself among the stars, resting among a seal of draconic magic. Ratatoskr’s celestial form stared into her, the blue fire of her making cradling the warrior in its painless flame.

“Ratatoskr.” She breathed, confused and yet thankful she wasn’t dead just yet. Or maybe she was, and this was some weird allusion to an afterlife for the dragoon that was blessed by Hraesvelgr.

“I heard mine brother’s cry at thy death. The knight that is thine mate knows naught except pain, akin to Nidhogg. He rages but cannot exact vengeance for thy demise with mine brood-mate’s power threatening to erupt. I fear the Dragonsong will be sung again, but mayhap all of Eorzea rather than thine kingdom alone.”

A scene in her mind’s eye. The storm of fire racing down the Steps of Faith, burning corpses to ashes and lighting stone to burn. Estinien was barely visible among the power, but he was there. On the brink of losing control, and yet at the same time composed with hurt burning in his eyes. She could see the slight glimmer of wetness on his cheeks and her heart broke. Though her and Estinien were not ones for words of love and affirmation, just subtle shows of their feelings in action and partnership, it was beyond all that was ethereal her love for him. They did not discuss it, but in whatever mystical way the Eye worked and the power of the Azure Dragoon fated them together and forged a bond much deeper than that of every day. It has been that way for ten years, and she’d be damned to let it go now.

“I would give thou mine blessing, if for one condition.”

The great beast was certainly terrifying, but she felt a certain kinship with this great wyrm, dead or alive. “Anything.” She whispered into the void, her voice harsh with emotion.

“Let me consume thou as Nidhogg consumed thy mate, and for one last time, let us defeat your opponent. Then I will restore thine soul and yet again thou shalt see another dawn.”

At this point, she’d give all her aether away just to kiss that Elezen one last time.

In a sudden rush of life and power far greater than she has ever known, she came crashing down onto the steps beside Estinien. Her corporeal body was nowhere to be seen, just this apparition hemmed in an azure flame. She was not in control here, though. Looking to Estinien, she saw the reflection of Nidhogg mirror Ratatoskr’s shade, and she glimpsed a play of emotion on the dragoon’s face that she had never seen before. He knew what was happening, though, and the subtle bob of his throat told her enough. It was time to swallow hurt, in order to triumph for another day.

The lance of aether she wielded in this form raised, with Estinien mimicking, and together they summoned the shades of the great wyrms to the Steps. No greater power existed beyond this moment right here, as the strength of eternity barreled its way towards the slaughterers. In a great burst of dragonfire, swirling between red and blue in a show of mystical prowess, her slayer ceased to exist. The cloak it wore lay empty on the stone, the being or whatever it was banished into a realm that would bar it from ever entering again.

And then it was over, the shades disappearing into the mist and her with it.

“Thank you, warrior of warriors.”

Estinien, as strong as he was, could not stand any longer. He sunk to his knees, lance skittering across the stone. He had no voice anymore, nothing left to scream, nothing left to yell. He had destroyed her murderer with the warrior at his side, yet she did not stay. He thought he knew the pain of death when his family was taken from him in such a violent way, and he carried that every day, but this was fresh. He could no longer feel her soul tugging on him, letting him know that she existed in the world. His equal, his partner, a piece of his life force.

All taken away.

“She lives yet, dragoon.” A haunting, familiar rumble that spoke sweet nothings that held no truth.

But then she was there, surrounded in a ring of fire. Her armor untouched, her lance at her side, unconscious on the ground and yet whole once again.

Remaining composed was on the forefront of his mind as he gathered her body in his arms, watching life rattle through her as she took a frail breath. Aymeric had reached him by now but understood that perhaps silence is better than trying to get in his way to make sure the Warrior of Light was still alive. The lord of Ishgard gathered the great relic lances and followed in Estinien’s stead, bringing her home.

#i just wanted to get this off my chest #since ive been imagining it for a couple days now #i said i was gonna kill her #and then i did #and then i was like wow nvm this would be cool and heartbreaking at the same time #so here we are #ffxiv #ffxiv wol #wol #warrior of light #estinien #estinien wyrmblood #wol x estinien #estinien x wol #warrior of light x estinien

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow : ch xv - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch xv / ?? - In which their is a mutual admission of something more

The constants were now Killian finding her, and forgetting until it was too late. Maybe a day would come when even he would be forgotten, and the feelings for him that were so confusing and wonderful would fade.

"Please let go. I made a mistake, and I - stop looking at me like that. Stop it, I don't -"

"Emma."

"Don't. Just - you don't need to explain. Just let me go and we'll never speak of it again. Please."

Killian laughed, shaking his head and pulling her back closer to him, and Emma tried to fill her lungs with air, tried to not acknowledge that she had ruined their closeness with a misinterpretation.

His voice was a low rumble in her ear that made her feel like her bones were melting. "Next time, tell me first. That way I'm not surprised by the lovely woman kissing me, and I can kiss you as properly as you like."

There was no awkwardness this time, just soft movements that made her lose her footing, his smile from catching her and groan at her hands around his neck like nothing else. Her own moan shocked her, the way his tongue pushed against hers, the insistence of every move showing a neediness that equaled her own. When her teeth gently nibbled his bottom lip, the noise he made was pained and she pulled away in worry.

Emma should not have been surprised to see him change so quickly, she had seen his moods with the Darkness, seen his worry turn to empathy here, but this was different. His hair was disheveled, lips parted, his eyes were darker as they searched her face for something she had no words for.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I -"

"No. No, you did no such thing, love." Killian’s voice was low, huskier, and he left her on wobbly legs when he broke their embrace to sit in one of the garden chairs. "On the contrary, this is torturous and wonderful. We should stop before -"

Emma pressed against him, legs on either side of his own as she had seen in the rare tawdry romance novel in her personal library, kissing him again, seeking that same noise as he gripped her waist almost painfully. "We shouldn't do this, hmm?" she smirked against the corner of his mouth, listening to his breathing hitch when she pressed kisses or nipped along his jaw line. She could see his hard swallows in the taut lines of his neck, thrown back as he sucked in air.

Gently running her tongue over his pulse point made him whimper, his body trembling. Emma had never felt this in control of another in her life.

"No. We shouldn't, this is - I want -" Killian croaked, and she rose up to take his face in her hands. His eyes opened to meet hers, half lidded and dark, the previously unacknowledged plea there she recognized now as want.

"I've stopped," she murmured, running fingers through his hair, making it stick up further, to her amusement. Leaning to whisper in his ear with warm breath, she tucked a piece of his dark locks away before teasing. "Tell me what you want, won't you? You have had so much self control in every iteration of ourselves, and I find my resolve weakening further by the minute."

"Bad form," he mumbled, distracted. "It's not proper, we can't -"

"That's why you only tell me."

"I - I want to court you as traditionally as we can manage considering; I want to look at you and know that you see me, that I'm enough. I want to take you everywhere you've never been, and listen to your theories on constellations that aren't remotely true. I want to dance with you in markets, and on beaches, and in ballrooms, anywhere that I can spin you in some dress that you make wondrously beautiful. I want to sleep with you at night and not be worried when we wake up holding each other. I want to read by the ocean while you try to poison me with your hot chocolate creations, and know that you'll understand when I have to watch the thunderstorms that come through, even if I hate them. I want to see you smile at me every day even if it's with annoyance. I want to hold you like this, whether you kiss me or not, because holding you is a salvation that I am not worthy of."

Emma stared at him, silence falling as she registered with shock what he had laid at her feet.

Finally, she breathed out a sigh. "Killian, I-"

"I know."

"It sounds perfect. I would if this was - if we could - if I wasn't what I am - "

His face softened, pulling her so their foreheads touched. "You mean, if you weren't a princess, and I wasn't a ticking time bomb?" Emma laughed sadly for a moment, then curled herself into his chest. "If we were just Emma and Killian, spending their days in a seaside cabin."

"Watching the waves, and…" She breathed in, gathering bravery. "Maybe, just being a little bit in… Maybe caring about each other?"

"Yes. Caring about you a lot, Emma. I think that it's impossible after everything for me to not be… to not care for you. We're going to get you out, and you will have more allies. You’re so close to being ready to save your family."

"What about you, Killian? We'll find a way to destroy the Darkness and free you, I know it -"

"Emma, I looked for a way in the library. I don't think there is a way to free me. And that's OK, it's alright. When you get out of here, I'll be forced to take it back, and I won't feel anything for you. And you, you won't remember, it will be as if nothing happened."

"I don't want it to be like nothing happened. You and I make a hell of a team, but we're even more than that -"

"We will still make a hell of a team, and it's better this way. The Darkness will be vicious when it takes me back, and wilder than ever. It's been stronger every time I try to cage it, and it wants to hurt you. I can't risk that, and neither can you. You're kind, and beautiful, and so good - this can't work with the Darkness," he whispered as her fingers brushed against his skin just slightly. Emma tried to ignore the ache in her chest as they held each other, and wondered how much would go unspoken between them. Tracing letters across his chest under the buttons of his uniform, she lifted his hand to touch the top of her gown where the skin from her collarbone led down to her chest.

Killian pulled her hands away, kissing them pleadingly. "You must not engage a man with the indecency to hurt you… which I would. I cannot stand the thought, and you will be of my every thought if this continues further. Don't wound a man and send him limping to his grave, Swan."

"Always so dramatic." Emma rolled her eyes, ignoring his own annoyed huff. She put on an air that he had seen her use in the presence of her parents, stunted and overly polite. "I would despair to hurt you in any way, my good friend, and beloved Lieutenant. To wound you would be to wound myself, and how could I bear to see you fall to ruin and guilt for it? If you truly doubt and do not believe that I would find you under the layers of that thing , know that as you have always found me, I will always find you Killian." Standing, she adjusted her skirts and bodice. He caught her wrist as she turned to move away.

"Stop it. You know what that 'thing' does. You know what it can do, what it does to me and what it shows me. I can't escape it when it's in my head, and I'm trying just to stay afloat. I didn't realize how much I needed sleep or respite from its screeching and scratching until…" Letting her go, Emma slid away slightly, looking at him as he sat to place his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "If I hurt you, I'd…"

Kneeling to cup his face in a clear breach of station, not caring for it regardless of in a dream or in reality, Emma stared up at him fiercely. "You're so much stronger than it, and getting stronger every day. Please, we'll find a way. I will find you, and you'll find me. I'll hear you if you call for me, Killian. You just have to fight it, for me and for you. You say you won't care, that you can't - You are not the Darkness, Killian. It does not define you, and I know who you are. You know who you are."

"You can't be sure." He shook his head, and if there were unspoken things between them, she could find the answers to her worries or how he felt in the blue that met her gaze. An ocean of meaning, all for her.

"I'm putting my faith in you. And Killian, please tell me you will try to find a way for me to remember, to remember any of this -"

"No, Isaac was clear that you won't. I'm so sorry darling. But Emma, if a part of you does, being with you like this, being free of the Darkness, it was one of the best parts of my life even if it wasn't real. I want you to know that."

"Killian, I can't lose this. I don't want to lose you or us."

"I will remember for you, and keep you safe. It's better that way."

"Better for who, Killian?" Emma whispered. He looked away, and she stood slowly. "I still remember pieces of the other dreams layered on each other, you know. They're hazy, but I won't let them slip away, because they are so important to me. You as a pirate, you as a ruler, watching you from my tower as you raced across the desert before climbing to me, and all the other strange incarnations of you searching, trying to save me again and again. There's something to be said about the man so determined to keep someone safe at their own expense, and wanting them to forget they ever cared at all. I only wish you saw yourself like I do."

"You see me through rose colored glasses, Princess. The eyes of someone who thinks the best while ignoring the worst." Standing and looking down at her, he lifted her to her feet. Emma tried to keep her expression passive, but anger and hurt lit behind her eyes.

"I'd never ignore anything to do with you," she began, Killian laughing as she tried to smile. "I’m a fan of every part of you."

He made a noise of protest, but she held up a finger. "The Darkness is not and has never been a part of you, but even in its presence where it sticks to your bones… I am still a fan of the you that’s there, fighting and finding yourself amongst the wreckage." Her hand snaked into his, fingers intertwining with his own. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, she let him wrap his arms around her.

"Emma…"

"What I mean to say is, if I must forget, treasure these moments for me. Keep them close." Pressing herself in closer to him, she listened to his heart beat. His chin dropped to press a kiss to her crown. "If I can't keep them, someone should. And if you should find yourself missing me, or trust yourself enough to allow the slimmest of chances, find a way to give them back to me."

After a long moment of silence, his face buried in her hair as they held each other tightly, he murmured quietly, "I will, I promised before and I promise again."

Emma felt the tears that had threatened before slide onto his uniform, her shoulders beginning to shake as he comforted her. The sound of Lilly's loud voice broke their moment.

"Hey! I am telling you that I need to talk to the princess and her lover boy, and I know we're in a curse -"

"Save it. This gets crazier by the minute, dark haired miniature of Maleficent. Let's see if my subconscious is leaking in here too, shall we?" Snow asked, dragging Lilly into the courtyard. She looked at the two of them in surprise, while Lilly simply grinned broadly. "Am I interrupting something Emma? Darkness?"

"Mom, his name is Killian," Emma began rubbing at her temples. "And this is Maleficent's daughter, Lilly. Also, yes, you both have interrupted an emotional reunion."

"It's important, Cruella has put you under a -" Lilly blurted out.

"A sleeping curse. Yes. She told us as much," Killian said, irritation leaking into his voice as he wiped away Emma's tears gently.

"Yes, well, I went to look at the bodies of the other Kitsune in the crypts. They're not dying from trying to break the spell, Cruella is sucking them dry. She has a lifetime supply of energy with the husks just walking around -"

"And Isaac knew. Aye, Lilly, we know -" Killian sighed, but her mother spoke up with a gasp.

"I didn't know that. That's awful. If I had but known, I could of -"

"Mom, hindsight in your case would have saved us a lot of grief, but there is literally no time to deal with every aspect of that right now. We would need eternities," Emma gritted out, and Lilly giggled. When Emma looked up, her mother was glaring.

"Well. I suppose that I should help you then. Princessa Lilly, Daughter, Dark One, let us go to the library and I will work with all of you to fix my accursed barrier. We may come up with something yet," Snow huffed.

"Killian, it's Killian Mom -"

Lilly's eyes went wide. "Oh, Your Majesty, my mother would - this would change everything, you have no idea -"

Queen Snow hooked the young woman by the elbow, leading her to the library. "We'll need a cloaking spell for if you choose a Dragon's form, but as long as you still have thunderstorms and fog..." She paused and called over her shoulder, "You two have five minutes and then will be in the library." She gave a firm nod, then continued on talking with Lilly.

"Leave her be, love." Killian shrugged, watching her mother walk away. "It's not everyday your mortal enemy is pursuing your only daughter."

Emma immediately pressed herself to Killian, the kiss lasting a small moment in time. She pulled away only slightly, and whispered against his lips as soft as she could.

"I love you. You don't have to say anything back, you don't have to repeat it for my benefit. I just needed to say it because it's true and I mean it. I love you, and I am cherishing every moment of this until it ends, and will continue with any part that remembers." Emma kissed him once more, then pulled away. He tensed, seemingly stunned as she refused to look at him. Swallowing hard with a heavy sadness, he looked down at the ground.

Emma took this as the answer it was, any emotional reaction to his non-reaction pushed away. Stretching and cracking her knuckles, she prepared herself, ending with a deep breath.

"Now, let's go help my mom so we can get out of here, and help everyone in this ridiculous mess."

He smiled at her, their fingers laced as she pulled him to the library.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The creation of the spell with her mother, Lilly, and Killian’s help was surprisingly calm, each person serving to create a piece of the overlying structure that would allow cloaking and protection of the island from mortals, while also allowing the magic to reconnect with the elements it long sought to reach. Lilly's expertise lay in her species - as a Dragon she was able to connect their signature and the Kitsune's with a cloak that would hide them from prying eyes, or if they should venture outside of their island. A strong breeze, a sudden storm squall, or a deep blanket of fog would be all anyone saw instead.

Emma and her mother worked on the mechanics of it, the tedious process of webbing magic over an existing space, held in concentration and formed again and again like molding clay or sewing embroidery stitches. They bickered occasionally, the Queen wanting to press limitations into the lining in secret, minor charms that curbed power, slowed down slightly, or created elemental weakness, but Emma held her ground with Killian and Lilly's voices strong in opposition as well.

Killian gave suggestions on defense, and Emma's eye was drawn away from her work to her mother's consternation more than a few times. The flickers of his magic, untouched by the Darkness in this world, were a stunning shade of ocean colors ranging from bright cerulean to dark navy that bordered black. It moved liquidly; whereas her own magic seemed to be made of dust and light, his was like the crests of waves, or swirls of arching water that cast rippling shadows on the wall. He seemed relaxed, calmed by it more so than she had ever seen him when the Darkness moved its power through him in its jerking or static tendrils.

Even her mother was impressed with the defensive surround he created, a series of founts that flowed protection spells from various points and continued out into the sea, changing the current to turn away unwanted attention. It cycled around to be reused and rejuvenated as it moved through the island, splitting to spiral around the new barriers before meeting its start to begin again. It was as beautiful as it was functionally a masterpiece of magical workings.

"This is -" Emma gasped as she followed his notes, reading his spells that would control movement, flow of magic, weather tempering, invisibility, and more. "Killian this is masterful. I mean, it's just -"

"It is very well designed," her mother admitted, as if she was drinking something bitter. Emma smirked.

Killian laughed lightly, ears pinking at the tips. "I have had a long time to study magic, especially locked away -" He carded his hand through his hair. "I mean, I've read a lot of books and theory, since…"

Emma's mother sighed, and stood with a stretch. She finally turned and smiled her saccharine grin, playing decorum once more.

"Then maybe your imprisonment was for the best after all." Emma scowled, but Killian kissed her cheek, resting his arm around her with a soft smile.

He didn't look at her mother when he spoke. "I truly believe that it was."

Emma blushed, squeezing his hand.

With the spell done, Emma pressed it into her hand, leaving a scorch mark on her palm. The group sat in quiet, Lilly occasionally rubbing her head, wincing more as the time went on.

"Lilly, are you alright?" Emma asked, concerned.

Killian and her exchanged glances, his jaw setting in the way Emma knew now meant that he was upset.

Lilly lowered her eyes. "I think my body - I think I got hit in the head pretty good by Cruella when she cast the curse. I tried to protect you and Killian." She winced again. "I didn't do a great job. I haven't been able to protect you at all, Cruella has always beaten me."

Emma's eyes widened, and her mother shook her head in anger.

"You're alright though, you're safe somewhere, right?" Emma asked. Lilly shrugged, and Emma looked at Killian. "Surely there's something we can do. What if you bleed out, or you have a concussion -"

"We just have to hope that my parents or someone else finds me." Lilly fiddled with her fingers. "I think they put me in the crypts."

"Lilly, this is -"

"So if I disappear, or turn into a husk, please don't forget that I tried. I wanted to be a good friend to you Emma." Lilly approached as if she was shy, gently taking one of Emma's hands. "You were my first friend from outside this island, which might as well be the first true friend I ever had. I'm sorry I wasn't better."

Emma hugged Lilly fiercely, surprising the Dragon who stood stunned before returning it. When she pulled away, she wiped at her eyes, laughing slightly as Emma smiled at her softly.

"Why are you so good at this?" Lilly mock-whined.

Emma laughed, clasping Lilly's hands tighter. "Because, you are just that awful at it."

Lilly roared out a laugh, grinning ear to ear. Killian joined them, hand snaking around Emma's waist, the three of them enjoying their conversation until Lilly vanished mid sentence. Emma stuck up her chin in defiance, Killian rubbing at the webbing of her hand soothingly

"You know she'll be alright," he whispered, kissing her temple. Her mother glared, and Emma tried to feel any sort of sign that Lilly was safe, awake and alive to face whatever Cruella threw at them next, but nothing came.

Emma's mother coughed, and when neither Killian or Emma acknowledged it, coughed louder.

"Yes, Mom?" Emma asked, annoyance seeping into her tone. Her mother narrowed her eyes.

"I'd like some more time with you, to explain some things, as it were." Her dark brows pinched together, and she rubbed where they met with a sigh. "There's been some misconceptions and miscommunication -"

"Like how you turned a man into a tree and segregated an entire species for a political alliance with the Merfolk?" Emma asked, trying to not let venom ooze into her words.

"That's not - Emma -" her mother sputtered.

Emma instead turned further into Killian’s embrace, his body stiff from trying not to laugh, but also holding in his own quips.

"So, we just wait here for the dream Isaac created to end?" she whispered. He breathed out a puff of air he had been holding, nodding slightly. Her mother continued trying to explain, but Emma tuned her out. "And then what?"

Killian swallowed hard. "Then the nightmares will begin to soak into everything. You can't get lost in them, no matter how frightening they are." He gripped her hand, kissing her knuckles. Her mother's voice was growing louder. "You and I will face everything together."

"Any idea how much time we have left?" she asked.

He shook his head no, holding her closer.

"I want to spend time with my mom, and with you," she affirmed.

"I would be happy to oblige," Killian breathed out. "But you may need to spend the majority of it with your mother, because she is quite livid at the moment."

"Emma, are you listening to me!?" her mother asked, in an angry, but pleading tone. "You need to know this, you need to stop -"

"I'll see you after." Killian pulled away, throwing her an apologetic look. "Good luck, my love."

Emma watched him go, her heart fluttering like a bird at his soft endearment.

" Emma -"

"What! What is it, Mother? Do you have more bad judgements you rained down during war time to tell me? Another rightfully angry enemy of yours lurking somewhere, ready to get their long sought after revenge? Who else did you punish while serving as judge, jury, and jailer?" Emma snarled, whirling on her mother's surprised form. She felt drained, exhausted, and beyond frustrated with her mother's part in their current situation. "It's my turn for questions, and here's one: Why did you ever agree to be queen, knowing that you would be so terrible at it! Was it because you were put there to be killed? You didn't think you might actually have to rule effectively?"

Her mother gaped, silently, as Emma breathed heavily from her yelling. To her further annoyance she began to cry, and wished Killian had stayed if just to keep her from swaying or shaking.

"Emma…" her mother whispered, concerned. Emma's eyes snapped back to look at her mother's face, frowning at the tears mirrored there. "Please sit down. You - You look - Rest for a little while -"

"Don't you dare paint me as weak, Mother. Not after everything you have put me through." Emma felt herself start to shake harder. "Don't you dare ."

"I was just… I am just… I'm so sorry." Her mother moved forward, slowly, reaching for Emma tentatively.

"You should be," Emma said slowly, wary of her mother's apologies. They always came with a condition, a reason. Her mother sighed, and Emma braced herself.

"I know."

Emma blinked.

"You know? You know what?" Emma asked, shocked.

Her mother looked ashamed, tears openly flowing as she choked out words.

"We should have told you everything. We thought we were protecting you from a past you had no part in. I'm so sorry we failed you Emma. I am so proud of you, I am so profoundly in awe of the woman that you have become." Emma allowed her to come close, letting her run her own shaking fingers over the top of her forearms. Snow rested her hands there, staring at her with reddening eyes. "Forgive me for my many mistakes made in ignorance, anger, and youthful naivety, and forgive me for the consequences that rippled from them. Should we make it out of this terrible coup, I will review every punishment that we have doled out, and try to do better for all of us."

Emma swallowed hard, nodding through being unable to speak.

"I love you, my beautiful daughter. My little buttercup, my shining golden girl, made of sunrays and dawn's light," Snow whispered, wiping tears from Emma's face. "I - I should have done better. We should have done better and I hope to make it right with you."

Emma hugged her tightly, finally allowing herself to lean on her mother's frame, both of them wishing for this opportunity outside of this dream. Wiping snot from her nose after the long minutes of just sitting together, Emma cleared her throat to ask another question.

"I know you don't have much time with me left, but is there anything else I should know? Anything I should be aware of? Any advice or guidance?"

"Henry is trying to get to you. He is with his wife, and they can help you some. There is a secret Dwarven settlement in the mountains near the Baelfire Hold; we used it during the war as a safe place. If you get there, you will find friends."

"That's perfect. I hate that this will end with me not remembering it, but I'll tell Killian everything I can and -"

"Emma, before I disappear, I have to tell you what your grandfather did. If you do by chance remember, or at least someone does if we… What I mean to say is that I must play you as confessional as well as daughter. David should have told everyone, I should have, but David's family was… There was a reason you didn't know your uncle or your grandfather, or your great grandfather. They made choices that your father fought against. They did horrible, awful things that we had to reckon with - "

"That sounds familiar," Emma snapped. "What else has our family done that I will have to fix?"

"There's no fixing what they did, Emma. Those alive that know, they don't speak about it. We’ve wiped it from history in our shame, the few that seek vengeance cannot be reasoned with -"

"Mom, is this about the Goblins?" Emma asked, anxiously.

"Oh, Emma, it's about them and so much more. My family is not innocent in this either, the Whiteheart name bears its own stain. My father could have saved us from every bit of this, but refused out of fear. He should have saved them all, given them refuge when they needed it most, but David's father would have demanded retribution. I know this does not make sense yet, but I -"

Emma stared at the empty chair in front of her, the fireplace crackling the only sound in her mother's sudden departure.

"I love you Mom. I love you Dad. I love you, all of you waiting for me. Be safe, please, be alright."

Closing her eyes, Emma brought her knees to her chest, and let herself cry.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian found Emma sitting in her room in the middle of its large bed, the curtained drapes tied up, and light streaming through the windows. Beyond the tall separated panes of glass were a field of wildflowers that led to the river the castle laid over, and the forest beyond of tall trees. Between them, a fireplace burned, filling the room with a warm glow and gentle heat, a basket of blankets and chaise set up in front. Tall bookshelves and a rolling ladder offset the bed, a large vanity between two doors on the far wall opposite the atrium entrance. The rightmost door was wide open, showing a large dressing area and the colors of multiple gowns hung within. The leftmost had soft blush marble peeking out of the barely ajar door, in what he assumed was a bath.

He joined her in the bed, her sigh of contentness when he held her like a breeze in the far pines.

"Is your mother…?" he whispered against her neck. She nodded, leaning back into him. "Are you alright?" Nodding once more, she nuzzled into him.

Her room looked barely lived in, absolutely pristine compared to what he knew of her, all except for the softness of the bed piled high with pillows, collections of lumpy blankets, soft furs, and sheets that felt like butter against his skin.

"No wonder you like sleeping so much," he chuckled.

Emma was quiet for a long time, until she moved and nibbled at his ear. He laughed for a moment, until she pulled at the lobe with her teeth harshly, sucking on it to soothe the burn. Turning fully in his lap, he breathed in air with a loud hiss.

"I've never had someone in my bedroom like this," she whispered, kissing down his neck. Killian felt heat shoot through his veins to the place he was doing his best to avoid thinking about. "I wish you would reconsider."

"I wish I could, love." He pushed hair away from her face, the gleam in her eye strange, malicious, and hostile. "Emma -"

"I know, I know puppy," she purred, voice deeper, raspier. She feigned embarrassment, covering her body with her hands as if she were nude. "Don't. Consider that this is make believe, consider that it's manufactured no matter how real it feels. Purity and all that."

Killian pushed her, throwing her off of him just as black began to replace the blonde on her scalp. "You! Where's Emma?" Not waiting for an answer he ran out of the room, hearing Emma laugh unnaturally, a cackle ripping from her throat.

"Where am I?" Emma’s voice echoed down the hallway, followed by the raucous laughter. "You said we shouldn't separate, we had to stay together!"

A scream ripped from deeper in the castle, and he raced toward it. Turning towards the ballroom, he slipped in a wet puddle, stumbling into a wall, making paintings crash to the ground. Blood. Bodies lay strewn everywhere in various stages of flight, all running from the direction he charged toward. He heard Emma's crying, throwing aside curtains to get to her. A small sword lay discarded in a gory mess, and he emerged into the dim light of the ball room wiping it clean, passing the thrones -

"You killed them! How could you, how could you, you monster!" Emma howled at him, running towards him and knocking the sword from his hand. Unprepared for the attack and stunned by Emma's blood stained hands and dress, she knocked him easily to the sticky floor.

"That's right, I ordered him to kill them, and the Dark One always does my bidding," Nil's voice drawled from nearby, and Emma had the Dagger, the completed Dagger that bore his name, raised over him. He pushed back against her wrists, her eyes wild as she tried to bring it down on him. "He gladly serves, loves the taste of the screams and begging for their lives. Go ahead and kill him, Emma. Try to make him suffer for what he's done."

"Emma, love, this is a nightmare - remember that, remember that we have to stay together," Killian gritted out. "I don't want to hurt you darling, please,"

"You don't want to hurt me? You abandon me, then you kill all the people I love; my parents, all of my friends, the court, - You are only Darkness! You're the Dark One, you killed them all, all of them! Nil is going to pull me into the dark, and you will help him - "

"No. No, Emma, I won't. I -" Killian flipped her, the dagger clattering to the side. She shrieked, struggling with all her might, and he held her wrists down. "Stop, Emma, just relax and give me a moment to explain -"

A blur of black hit him and he went flying, Nil scooping up the dagger as another version of himself tried to run him through with the sword he'd lost.

"Kill this imposter, Dark One. The princess and I will be waiting for you in my chambers." Killian saw the floor open into an abyss, Emma being pulled in by some unseen force as she tried to hold on. She looked at him in panic, her eyes wide at the sight of the two of them struggling.

Not worrying about hurting another version of himself made it easier to disarm the nightmarish doppelganger, and Killian ran towards Emma, catching her before she fell into the dark hole. Wrenching her upward, she threw her arms around him, the floor falling away around them into the pitch blackness.

"Listen, the next part, the next part of this dream is awful and I need you to find me as fast as you can. Please Killian, I can't be alone with him. I'll be in his bed chambers, tied down, you'll have to find me quickly. Please, please hurry. The things he will do, I can't go through that again." Emma sobbed, clinging to him.

"I'm not going to lose you. It's going to be okay, I -"

"Look out!" Emma pulled him to the side, but the blow struck him just the same, luckily only leaving a gash in his side. He hissed in a breath at the feeling of steel against his skin as the other him laughed, Emma's fingers slipping in his hand.

Emma's eyes were so wide, her face so full of terror as he clung to a rapidly declining edge. "Don't let go, please, don't drop me. I'm so scared." Above, the nightmare doppelganger approached menacingly, and Killian felt his side burning from strain. Looking down at her, he nodded.

"Together?" he asked, and she breathed in deeply, stilling herself.

"Together." She nodded.

He let go as the doppelganger swung his sword down, narrowly missing his fingers. They fell, Emma gripping his hand, then his shirt as she pressed herself against him, bracing herself for some untold torment.

"I won't let him hurt you," Killian whispered, gently stroking her hair. "I won't, Emma. I -"

Instead of falling into the bowels of the earth, he felt clawed hands wrench him away from Emma. She screamed his name, the sound of a splash echoing as he hit hard against wood, the night sky exploding behind his eyelids.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

When she did not fall into the bed that haunted her nightmares, Emma was shocked, but the cold water that doused her head to toe was an unwelcome relief as well. She struggled to the surface, aware of the creaking of wood, the ropes she was tangled in, and the boat that was pulling her upwards. Coughing she tried to gain her bearings, but as the net was tilted and she rolled out with the fresh catch, Emma realized that no one on board could help her. Blurred gray mists moved around the deck, the air ice cold around them. Voices from below were raised, the mists not paying her heed as she hiked up her sopping skirts, trying to find Killian.

Heading below, the ship extremely familiar to her, she heard his voice clearly.

"So they have demanded their own realm? After all of this? What did the Lady of Whitehart say, now that she is to rule -"

"Snow said yes. It's a wise move in the long run, they want it designed as a stronghold: One way in which means that is the only way out, upper Goblin hierarchy exclusively. Snow recognizes the advantage that gives us in the long run. A stronghold can easily turn into a prison, or a tomb." The other voice was distorted, tinny and soft in places. It reminded Emma of the records Anna had played for her once, the voices on the discs played too slow by her on purpose as a gag.

"And what other news?" Killian asked. Emma moved closer to the open cabin door, peering through and blinking at the sight. The cabin of the Jolly Roger was laid before her, but different than when she had ever seen it. It was organized, pristine, and in the middle of it Killian rocked on his heels as a misty Liam sat in a chair watching him. Liam swirled a glass in his see through hands, and sighed deeply at Killian’s question. The only thing that had faded color, as if a candle was placed behind paper, was Killian.

"David N'lan brings news that the Goblin scourge is attempting to recreate an ancient weapon, used to summon a terrible evil. If it's true -"

"It can't be. The war those creatures have started is the most evil thing we have ever faced. What could possibly be more -" Killian snapped in irritation. A misty messenger herald the color of milk moved by Emma, freezing her in its wake, but interrupting Killian’s diatribe.

"M'lords, urgent news from the Blackwater. A Goblin raid, slaughter, they're pillaging our lands, they're raiding the ladies school, I… I couldn't…" The man gave a deep sigh, and fell to the floor, his misty form fading into the cold air.

"Milah!" Killian hissed, Liam standing at once to check the man's pulse. He shook his head, his fists balled as his shoulders rose.

"Elsa, the women, Gods! I have to go, Killian stay here and -"

"Brother, you are the captain, you leaving will cause panic. I'll go, I'm faster and I have to check on Milah -"

"We'll both go. I know Elsa is capable, but I will bring her on board. Hell, I'll bring her entire damn castle on board if she is safe. I can't -"

"I'll have her send word to you. You have to stay Captain. You know you do." Killian clapped a hand on his brother’s back and Liam rose, turning to do the same.

"Get back here immediately once you confirm they are safe, Lieutenant. Do not risk any more bloodshed." Liam nodded, Killian returning the gesture. He moved quickly to where Emma was standing, oblivious of her. "And Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain?" Killian turned, looking at Liam. Liam faded, slowly melting away before her eyes.

"Be careful."

"Aye, Captain." Killian said, walking through her.

She gasped, feeling like she was falling from a great height, the world shifting as the wreckage of burning stone structures bloomed from what had been the cabin. Emma whirled around, spotting Killian running into a courtyard. Ice magic flew past him, freezing multiple Goblin targets into a wall like structure.

"Elsa! Where are -" Killian yelled, Elsa's mist like form appeared, shooting ice over structures that burned. Emma lost her breath at the visage, the heavy weight of grief suddenly renewed again. They had fought so hard to survive, and lost so much. The apparitions of Ingrid leading a carriage and two large horses into the space, and Anna jumping from inside and hooking them to the leads came next.

"We're okay, we're all okay Killian." Elsa grimaced, holding her concentration as she spoke, still pouring out ice magic from outstretched hands. "My parents are already evacuating the fjord, and we think Nemo has my brother at sea. We're going to try to blend in with the mortals in the north until this fighting calms. I'll send you and Liam a location when I can."

"Be safe. We love you, I'll tell Liam -"

Elsa interrupted him with a scoff. "I'll tell him, because I begged that idiot not to consign in this war, but here you both are! Go get Milah, tell her that she and the other ladies who are barricaded in the school should head north. We'll help them settle, but the Goblins don't fare well in the cold."

"I'll send her along shortly. Be well, soon to be sisters."

"Be careful!" Anna called from the carriage, and Ingrid gave a nod.

Emma was pulled forward into another shifting scene, as if attached by string. This was obviously not her nightmare, instead possibly a strange memory of Killian’s, but it made no sense. If it was a memory, it certainly wasn't nightmare material. There was nothing that made her feel frightened, no one being hurt, and he would find Milah holding down the lady's school. Unless…

A stone hallway rolled out in front of her, large wooden doors splintered as she walked through, pushed back furniture piled high against them. Killian’s voice echoed against the stone as he rushed down the hall searching for something, doors thrown open, some broken or ripped away from their jamb, others hanging by hinges. Fabric stuck in the splinters of a few; crinoline, lace, and taffeta ripped from gowns, red spattering both on the floor and on fabric. Emma’s breath caught.

"Milah! Where are you love?" Killian threw open a door that fell immediately aside off its bent hinges. The room was upturned as if a whirlwind had blown through. Glass crunched under his boots, books and stray paper littered the floor, the bed was a splintered and bowed beast that Feathers had burst from. Red pooled on parchment, loose on the floor, claw marks gauged deep into a canvas painting of blossoms. Killian made a choked noise, rushing from the room, Emma following as fast as her feet could carry her. Fire met them at the end of a corridor, and they raced through it, leaping out a window onto a parapet as beams crumbled behind them.

Goblin riders spurred horses below them while Emma followed close behind Killian, sliding down tile shingled roofs. Women screamed in the night carried over scaled shoulders, others in burlap bags, and others still were unconscious or dazed, too stunned to fight. Emma barely caught herself as they followed, racing on the stone walls and buttresses, Killian secure in his footing. It was as though he'd done this a thousand times, and maybe he had with how close this was to his home. They landed one after the other on solid ground, Emma stumbling as Killian leapt to catch a rider, pushing him off his horse. The Goblin tumbled from its mount, and Killian freed the woman who had been tied to the bridle at the front.

"Run, run and head north. Tell any other ladies you find to do the same. Be quick, and go!" She ran off with a nod, and he spurred his horse on, just as Emma managed to wrap her arms around his back. The jolt forward had her scrambling to grasp at him, his riding like a man chased by the devourer Gods of legend. He dispatched a Goblin seemingly for a weapon, and another to cut open a bag with his stolen halberd, a ginger haired woman falling free and thanking him while he continued his search.

Up ahead, Emma caught sight of Milah first, her bloodied head and dark hair bright in the moonlight. Time slowed around them. Killian raised the halberd, calling her name, chasing the Goblin pack. He threw the weapon with force, the portal opened up in the ground, horses rearing up as the Goblins grabbed their stolen treasures, jumping into the newly opened nothingness. The halberd sunk into the flank of a horse, the beast screaming madly as it flailed and kicked in agony. Killian barely avoided it while jumping from his mount to run towards the shrinking portal. Milah and her grinning capturer were among the last to jump, laughter falling away as Killian clawed at the dirt where they had been.

Emma stepped down from the horse as it brought her close to him, his screams and cries breaking her. She reached for him, but he spun to stalk towards her, pushing through her, and she fell again. Landing hard, wind rushed out of her mouth just as thunder boomed above her. Lightning lit the sky, and she could see Killian climbing up a rocky outcropping, another strike almost hitting him as rain pelted down.

Emma scrambled to follow, remembering his reaction to the violent thunderstorm at sea. Reaching the top, she could see movement on the summit of the mountain. A fire poured smoke, a figure chanting unintelligible words as lightning crackled. Below cannons fired on the cliff face, the Fae navy in its full regalia just like the pictures she had seen of that night - Oh Gods , that night - it was those few days that led to -

Killian climbed desperately towards the top, slipping and throwing himself forward in single-minded determination. He fought wind, avoided flying tree limbs and branches, found foot holds in rock that could not shelve coins as Emma tried to keep up. A slick boulder pointed skyward, his feet and hands finding purchase with difficulty, but he pulled himself up, reaching up as thunder sounded from exactly above them, his eyes shooting skyward. There was a pause where everything seemed to stop, the entire world going quiet for a single piece of a second.

Lightning struck the boulder, Killian slipping backward into a mud puddle, landing with a heavy thud. Emma gasped, the rain pouring sideways, another bolt illuminating his prone sprawl as something greater than thunder exploded above them with a force that blew Emma from her perch. She caught herself just barely, but felt the air shift. Looking up, she saw it.

The Goblin King had his hands raised to the sky, an opening above him that poured out a spout of pure jet blackness, dark even against the stormy night. It moved, sinewy snake-like tentacles stretching as it pulled down into a groping mass.

The Darkness.

Another bout of lightning flashing blinded Emma, but when she blinked it away the Darkness was gone. Turning, she saw Killian shift up on his elbows as it floated in front of him. Words began to whisper in her head, the voice old and withered. It spoke like birds flying into windows, the creak of leather against skin in punishment, insects being crushed, the dying bleats of an animal in pain - it overpowered her in its hideous sound, but she had to hear its words, its promises and lies.

"I can give you your vengeance… I can help you avenge your lost love, and deal out punishment for those who wronged you. I can make you stronger, better, more powerful than you ever dreamed. I can destroy anything that should stand in your way, anyone who dares to defy you. Give yourself to me, feel the euphoria of everything you seek, every impulse and every anger met with my unstoppable force."

"How?" Killian rasped out, his fingers outstretched.

"Let me choose you as my vessel. Let me give you immortal life. Let us do many terrible and wondrous things together. With you and I sharing your confines, we shall tear the world asunder with your vengeance."

"I will. I will give myself to you." Killian’s hand was engulfed by the blackness, sticky strands of it wrenching themselves down his arm as he howled.

"You were a fool, the one who used to be Killian Jones. You were weak, and worthless." Killian’s body rose, the black mass tearing at him, attacking his throat and eyes. Emma covered her mouth with both hands as she shook her head, his choked noises making her sick. She prayed for this nightmare to end, understanding why it was shown to her. He fell to the ground retching as the voice echoed, "Now you rise as the Dark One."

The sensation of a bug digging at her ear made her claw at her face. Killian did the same, the voice laughing as her senses felt overwhelmed, the urges of something unnatural pushing her in every direction, rage building and hatred growing with every breath. Killian let out a menacing growl, throwing himself up the boulder where he had slipped previously, his foot leaving a crushing imprint as he launched from it. The mountain top was so close and Emma pushed herself to catch up, trailing behind him by only a small distance.

At the summit of the mountain the Goblin King came into view, and Killian ran toward the smiling creature. A pulling feeling sucked the air from Emma's lungs, and she fell to her knees, watching as the King raised a glowing orange, newly forged Dagger to the sky. It steamed in the rain, Killian falling to his knees. The thing inside his head howled like a wild animal with its leg caught in a trap.

The Goblin King only laughed.

"You will do, I suppose. It should have been me, but that is why you come prepared." The King twittered again, stroking a finger along the blade as Killian’s name appeared. "If it can't be me, at least I control the one it is."

Emma felt nausea roil in her stomach. Killian's eyes darted toward where cannons fired from below, cracking against the mountain from the sea. His heart thundered in time with the storm.

"You and I shall have so much fun, pet," the Goblin King purred, holding the Dagger out in front of him like a talisman.

"Dark One. I command you to destroy the entire fleet below. Leave no survivors."

The words echoed, and the thing, the Darkness laughed in delight in the Goblin King’s voice, the sound awful in its menace. Killian took several steps toward the cliff and she stood to join him, surveying the ships below. Her hands touched his own but he did not notice or respond. Blood leaked through his shirt in full color, the wound on his side he sustained in the palace nightmare still there even here. Ripping at her skirt, she tied a few of the driest pieces she could around his shirt, pleased when they stayed.

Touching him had an additional effect. Now she could hear his voice, his pleading and begging to stop; that Liam was below, his brother, not his brother, anyone but his brother, his own life, not his brother's -

You already sold me your life, I've merely extended it. Sorry, Dearie.

This wasn't vengeance, this was not what he was promised, this was -

You said you wanted revenge, your blackheart spoke true and called for its vengeance. Vengeance you shall have. The Dagger will take everything else, carve away all your weaknesses. The Dark One has no time for shame or guilt unless it feeds our purpose.

The Dark One raised his hand, and fire rained from the sky, ships exploding one by one. Somehow she knew fire raged through Killian too, it burned everything but what it needed to ash. Darkness oozed into every barren space erasing all the qualities it deemed useless, all the qualities that wouldn't serve its purposes and the whims of its master.

Your brother died in pain, by your very hand. Milah will die tortured in ways that you cannot fathom. You have failed everyone. What do you feel?

Screams echoed as ships burned, the Dark One floating over the massacre and laughing as he crushed former brothers at arms together. The storm cleared, survivors being killed with sadistic glee by the madman under the Goblin King’s control. As the dawn broke, Emma was forced to move along with what once was Killian; through the wreckage of corpses, the air smoky with ash, and the littered debris. The water was red and thick with blood, just as the legends said.

I feel… nothing.

When the memory seemed to blur and she found herself again in the dark, Emma let herself cry from the sights she had seen. The entirety of knowing what had happened, from the emotions that she was forced to feel and the destruction, catalysts for so much bloodshed - it was too much. Killian appeared out of the gloom, and when he tried to comfort her, she flinched away.

"I'm sorry, I can't, I can't right now -" she sobbed, and he nodded.

"You don't have to be sorry. You don't have to even - I have no way of living with what I've done. I understand if you hate me. I hate me," Killian breathed out, looking at his hands. They trembled, but he slowly closed them, and smiled crookedly. "The worst part is that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing all those people. I enjoyed the power, and the destruction I could create. Every time it storms I remember that feeling in my veins and how good it felt, how addictive it was even as my brother lay dead below. I want it back, regardless of all the damage I did - "

"No. The Darkness wants that. You don't. You… I heard you begging for it to stop, I heard you screaming -"

"Are you sure? Are you sure I didn't? How can you be sure I still don't enjoy hurting and killing? It would be so easy to give myself in, to simply…" The bottom dropped out, his hand gripping her wrist tightly as she dangled. "Rip you apart."

Throwing her into the vast darkness, Emma fell screaming, landing on softness. She breathed out, hissing Killian’s name, knowing that they must have been separated. Moving to sit up, the bed creaked below her in the dark.

"No," Emma whispered, shaking her head. "No, no no -"

"Yes." Nil purred from somewhere in the dark.

Emma shrieked, throwing herself from the bed, banging around the room trying to find the escape. Yelling Killian’s name, a hand pulled her back to the bed by her damp hair, tightening the binds that haunted her nightmares.

#Courtorderedcake #March #March 22nd 2020 #Hallow #CSSNS #Captain Swan #CS #CS AU #CS FANTASY #Captain Swan Supernatural Summer #CS Fic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fanart

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eleniel-starlight · 4 years

Text

Dream State

Chapter Name; A New Journey

Summary; A former Jedi Master is found in a ruined city, on a fallen planet. The Empire has taken over, and won their war, but some still rage in their dying light. Some, like our Jedi, just need a show of kindness to realize their place.

Author’s Note; This took me WAY too long and I am so so so sorry but it has been a wild ride with my laptop being left behind in Phoenix, to it just not working in general, and I am done with excuses because from now on I will have a steady update schedule that I will hold myself to, and this time I will finish I promise.

Word Count; a measly 2,098

The Empire had taken everything that they could. Every system willing, and those unwilling, for it’s expanding power and wealth, and there were none to stop them. With all the Jedi either dead or in hiding, never to return, and the Clone Army having betrayed the Republic, there was nowhere to run. The Siege of Mandalore had been a deep seeded, planned take over, with Palpatine at the head of the Order.

Jedi Master Lo’ri often spent her days sifting through the ruins of the planet Mandalore, one that she had once fought for during the final days of the Republic. The planets that had fallen in the takeover. Mandalore, Onnderon, even Florrum; while Hondo Ohnaka had once held her captive, he had also provided aid when she had even lost faith in the Council. But it was all gone now. Hondo had gone into hiding, as pirates often do when the situation becomes too dire; not even the scent of a Jedi could bring him from his hole, wherever that might be.

She was out of a friend, in such a difficult time. She was a Jedi, trusting anyone was a risk. The Empire had it out for her head, Vader had killed one of her best friends and sent the other to a planet so remote that even she had refused to follow him, and destroyed the Order that she had devoted so much of her life to, and now here she was, a bounty hunter for hire, flying just under the radar of the Empire as someone who had simply acquired her lightsabers from the body of a Togruta Jedi.

Though such a lie was not easy to pass to former Jedi Knight, Cere Junda. A Knight that had served in the Republic would not be so easily fooled, even cut off from the Force Cere could sense the immense aura of the Force surrounding the planet of Mandalore.

The Mantis landed on the ruined city of Keldabi of Mandalore, and Cere set off in search of one more Jedi before venturing to Bracca for the final Jedi, a Padawan by the name of Cal Kestis.

Mandalore’s history was one of war and death, a war that had been fought and lost by the Jedi just over twenty years before the fall of the Republic. The Jedi Master located on Mandalore was once a member of the Jedi by birth, and the fastest learner that the Jedi had seen in quite some time. Before the fall, word about the Temple had been that Master Lo’ri had been as skilled a Force-user as Anakin Skywalker, but even now Cere was unsure if she had truly survived the Siege of Mandalore. The fall of the Republic had taken it’s toll on everybody, and whether or not Lo’ri had driven herself mad from the lonliness was unknown.

Keldabi had once housed the leaders of Old Mandalore, those of the people that had embraced conflict rather than having turned a blind eye to the concept. It made sense that a former Jedi would dwell on her past in a place like Keldabi, the perfect remnant, and the perfect hiding spot. Sundari was still inhabited by those left that supported the Empire.

Lo’ri had holed up in the old throne room, a place full of sun and warmth, a place for her to meditate. This was where Cere found her, on her knees, eyes closed in concentration as the Force radiated about her. It had a depth, a swarm of its own, the deeper into the well within her that she dwelled. It overwhelmed Cere and threatened to bridge the divide that she had tried so hard to sever between her and the Force. Long black hair flowed down her back, unkempt and knotted with different vines that laid coated with pink flowers. Her cloak and lightsaber laid to the left of her, bare for all to see.

Confident in her abilities, then. Cere thought to herself.

“No, but I haven’t seen another life form capable of conversation in the area since the Siege.” Her voice was weak and scratchy, and Cere was unsure that she’d actually heard the young woman say anything until Lo’ri stood, allowing the true length of her hair to fall from where it had once rested on her shoulders. The length fell to below her knees, and swept behind her as the former Jedi stalked forward. Cere kept her guard down, so as not to set Thestra on edge. She desperately needed the woman on her side if Cal was not to come. Though she suspected that both would be needed for the journey ahead.

“Now what is it you’ve come to ask of me, Junda?” Thestra moved forward in a slow manner, an animal stalking possible prey. “The Order has been destroyed, and you come in their stead, but I cannot see why.”

Cere bristled at the sheer unbridled ability that rolled from the woman’s aura, but she pushed onward with her mission. “The Force can be cryptic in what it allows you to see. My friend, Greez, and I, are in search of Jedi for a task that I cannot complete on my own.”

“And what task would that be? To aid you in fighting the Empire? Fight against Vader?” Her already broken voice tapered off in a tone of sadness.

“If need be, yes.”

“No. Vader stopped being my problem after the Siege. He was gone well before the battle even begun. Now leave me, before I decide that you are my enemy,” Lo’ri turned and began to stroll back to her meditation spot, but Cere had other plans.

“I need you, if you will not come, then…” Her face fell. “Then we have no chance to defeat the Empire,” she finished. But Lo’ri did not seem to care. She returned to the position she had been found in, on her knees, hands positioned just above her thighs. Her hair was now splayed about the ground around her, as opposed to the resting spot it had occupied when Cere had arrived. The former Jedi moved forward. “Please, you have to help me.”

“Why can’t you help yourself, hm?” Cere was in front of Thestra. The woman’s eyes opened, and Cere could see deep into the violet that was her irises, a colour Cere had never seen before. The dead look inside of her didn’t change the iridescence of her irises. The older woman stood in shock for only a moment, though.

“I need someone more in tune with the Force than I am. If you don’t turn out to be who I thought, well, then Greez and I will bring you back here.”

Lo’ri shook her head, an incredulous look on her face, raising the ends of her lips upward in a humorous smile. “Not good enough, Junda.”

Cere was exasperated. “Well then what do you want?”

“To be left alone as I had been!” Thestra was on her feet, menacing as she pushed Cere back with the Force, all the while her eyes grew brighter and brighter, as though something were about to boil over.

“Master Lo’ri, please, calm down!”

Lo’ri’s lip curled upward in a snarl, as something inside of her snapped. The Force oozed from every node in her body, a malice that seeped into each corner of the throne room. The immense exertion was a result of the burrowing that Thestra had been attempting before Cere had arrived, and nearly depleted the Force that was left, welled inside of her. It was a display of power, of the ability and will that she carried. Cere gave a soft smile of sympathy as Thestra collapsed to the ground shaking; the woman followed after to kneel.

“Help me, Lo’ri. And we can repair the damage Vader has done to the galaxy, to us.”

“I don’t want revenge,” her already weak voice was cracking with each word, tears were beginning to stream down her face and fall to the stone below. “I just want my friends back.”

Cere felt her stomach twist at the broken words falling from the Master’s lips.

“I can’t give you your friends back, I can only offer you a chance to make new ones. A new family.” Lo’ri shook her head as she fell back to sit on her bottom. Sorrow filled her expression, and fueled the shaking in her hands as Cere took them in her own. “The Jedi were my family, too. We have an opportunity and I need all the help I can get.”

The raven haired woman opened her violet eyes to Cere’s amber ones, and saw a glimmer of hope for herself. A chance to rise out of her wallow and avenge her family. Her heart pounded in its cage, driving her upwards and Cere with her.

“What is your opportunity?”

Greez had the most issues with Lo’ri coming aboard his ship. She found it odd that, for such a small Latero, he was very loud and proud about the cleanliness of his ship, the Mantis. Clean as it was, Lo’ri found it difficult to view the plant life that Greez Dritus kept behind glass. Her homeworld was a place where plant life was allowed to roam free, and the population was lucky that, through the will of the Force, they were allowed a home.

Greez disagreed with this philosophy heavily, and immediately ordered Thestra to brush and braid her hair.

“Preferably outside of my ship, you have no idea how hard it is to sweep dirt off of this floor.” He then shambled off to look at his empty plant casing.

“Greez, come on, you know I don’t have any idea how to work with hair like this, why can’t you do it?” Lo’ri stared at Cere in confusion as the woman winked at her with a smile. Greez groaned loudly.

“You know what? You’re right! If I want anything on this ship done, I have to do it myself! Come here, whatever your name is. I’ve got a brush around her somewhere.” Greez went about the ship on his little legs, searching through the things that he had once had so neatly tucked away in search of a brush, or maybe even a pick, that would be able to work it’s way through the wild rats nest that was Lo’ri’s hair. While he searched, Lo’ri began to work up the voice, and the nerve, to tell the Latero male what her name was.

Once he’d found a brush and pick that he believed would serve his purpose, Greez ushered the woman out onto the landing pad of Keldabi and began to pick through the flowers that had taken root. As the time wore on, Greez was obviously becoming impatient, so the woman decided to speak.

“My name is Thestra.” She rasped. Greez made a grunting noise and continued to pick through her hair, nearly done with the largest tangles. He pulled exceptionally hard on the center tangle, causing Thestra to yelp in pain; her body pushed her into a forward roll, landing facing Greez, one hand in front and the other protecting her backside. Her muscles were tense and many ached from her lack of time in combat over the last decade. Greez just watched with a tired look in his eyes, as though this had happened to him before.

“Come here, Thestra, I didn’t mean it,” the woman let a deep breath out, and fell out of her fighting stance. She allowed Greez to tug on the rest of her tangles without any protest or trigger, and when he was finished, she hadn’t even noticed that the Latero had taken the time to braid her hair in an intricate manner, letting the length fall into a soft knot that formed at the end of the braid. When she stood, her hair fell to just above her knee as opposed to past the bone, and the flowers that had once been seen at odd placements in her unkempt hair were now seen at perfectly spaced intervals within the braid. Greez smiled to himself with pride as Thestra marveled at the beauty.

“Thank you,” she muttered. Greez shook his head.

“No need, little lady,” he grunted as he shuffled up the ramp and back into his ship. Thestra turned to take one last look at the ruins of Keldabi, her home for the past ten years, and boarded the Mantis for a journey that she was still unsure about embarking on.

#Cameron Monaghan #cal kestis #cal kestis x oc #original character #star wars #jedi #jedi fallen order #empire #mandalore #cal kestis x reader

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epicofevil · 4 years

Text

Character Aftermaths

Epic of Evil page 140-149

Riliane Lucifen d’Autriche

Then the character:

Hiding her true identity, she received a baptism as “Rin” and formally became a nun of the Held monastery. When she was 43 years old she succeeded the former director and became head of the monastery. In year 562, when she was 77, she quietly passed away while under the watchful eyes of many orphans.

On the surface she was executed during the Lucifenian revolution, and the fact that this was false never became public.

(The princess who had wanted so strongly to be like her firm and noble mother began to quietly walk a double life as a simple girl)

The Held Monastery

This monastery built by the donations of Keel Freezis stood on a hill close to the Anonymous Coast in Lucifenia. As the Levin faith was primarily made up of Levia sect members, there weren’t at the time a lot of Held sect churches (there wasn’t a single one left even as far as the Marlon royal capital of Bariti). There are no statues or anything either, likely as idolatry is forbidden.

It was shown in “Daughter of Fog” that the head of the monastery was named Yvette, and that she was someone who had once used a “Vessel of Deadly Sin”. Perhaps her experiences then served as a catalyst for her knowing myths about demon contracts. It is said that she has a sealed “key” in the monastery, though…

Riliane’s Rough Chronology

485: Born along with her twin brother Alexiel in the Lucifenian Kingdom.

491: Her father Arth I dies from the Gula disease. A dispute for succession between her and Alexiel breaks out. She is possessed by the “Demon of Gluttony” due to the scheming of her guardian Prezi.

499: Her mother Anne dies. She becomes ruler of the Lucifenian Kingdom.

500: The Lucifenian Revolution breaks out due to the Green Hunting. Allen (Alexiel) becomes her body double and dies in her stead. Afterwards, she comes to live at the Held monastery as Rin.

Clarith

Then the character:

She continued to pursue being a disciple as a nun, but this girl, her heart wounded from continuing discrimination against Netsuma people, left the Held monastery and founded her own monastic order. They began to work towards creating a society without discrimination. Eventually their actions spread beyond Lucifenia, becoming world-wide in scope. It’s said she continued to network with Rin (Riliane) even after leaving the Held monastery.

A New Monastic Order

The illusory Michaela had said that “there is meaning in choosing your own path”. That was probably the answer she’d found with all the people that she’d met.

Clarith’s Rough Chronology

479: Born in Elphegort.

499: Meets with the Elphe Michaela in the Millenium Tree Forest, and they begin to live together.

Is hired on as a tutor to Yukina and maid on the Freezis Estate in Aceid.

500: Starts to work as hired help at the Held monastery in Lucifenia after the revolution. Later is officially baptized and becomes a nun.

Michaela

Then the character:

The tree that serves as her divine body as Held’s successor rapidly grew. She became the new guardian god of the forest after Held vanished from the ground world. Though she was a young tree that hadn’t yet actually achieved the age of a thousand years, out of their affection the people of Elphegort called her the Millennium Tree (or, to make a distinction between her and her predecessor, the “New Millennium Tree”).

Winding up stuck spending days far more boring than those of her days as a spirit, when a theater was built by Gallerian Marlon’s direction in which all the “Vessels of Deadly Sin” were being gathered five hundred years later, Michaela began to interfere with it in critical moments

Michaela’s Rough Chronology

Pre-Millennium: She is born as a dependent of the Earth God Held.

001: Witnesses the kidnapping and murder committed by Eve Moonlit.

499: Suffers wounds from an attack by a black Rollam bird at the Lake of Amusement. She is taken in and healed by Clarith.

Is reborn as a human with the appearance of Eve Moonlit by Elluka. She becomes a maid at the Freezis estate in the Elphegort capital of Aceid.

500: Takes refuge in a hideaway in the Millennium Tree Forest to escape from Lucifenia’s Green Hunting, but is killed by Ney.

Her form is changed to a sapling by Held’s power.

505: Planted in the Millennium Tree Forest.

Kyle Marlon

Then the character:

After Lucifenia declares is independence as a republic, Kyle leaves his throne to his younger half-brother Arkatoir and disappears from Marlon. After that he continues to wander various countries, making art as a painter, as was his dream when he was young.

Eventually he reunites with Yukina in Lucifenia and quits his journey, living alongside her. Apparently they did not have a marriage relationship. Though he ultimately never achieved greatness as a painter, in her later years Yukina writes that he “seemed happy nonetheless”.

(With his mother dead and the sister he’d wanted to save dead, Kyle was gripped by desolation. Did his beginning to chase his dreams again have an impact on Yukina?)

Karchess Crim

A pen name Kyle used in his childhood. He did oil paintings specializing in light colors, and he preferred to paint people more than scenery and animals. All the paintings that he made in those days were burned up by his own hand, save for the one that he painted of Ney, which was in Keel’s mansion. He used that pen name when he secretly participated in the Lucifenian Revolution.

Originally that name belonged to Kyle’s distant ancestor from close to 400 years before. He was a noble who saved Queen Marlon when she was kidnapped during the Venomania Incident, and apparently also her lover in an extramarital affair. After that they eloped, and after bouncing from one place to the next they his genes remained in the Marlon royal line.

Kyle’s Rough Chronology

474: Born as the son of Prim and King Marlon in the country of Marlon.

488: Paints a picture of his relative, Ney.

489: His art tutor Margaret kills herself.

Meets Keel.

490: Burns all of the paintings he’s made up to that point.

494: Inherits the Marlon throne.

501: Marlon annexes the Lucifenian Kingdom.

505: Suffers a demonic transformation, taken in by the “Demon of Pride”.

Hears Prim’s monologue in Marlon’s Handbeat Clocktower.

Yukina Freezis

Then the character:

She continues to write novels afterwards, and creates several popular works. The novels she publishes in her lifetime exceed one hundred, but there are many other private works she wrote that went unpublished, and it’s said they’re bought and sold for very high prices among collectors.

(“You must write the continuation of this story”. Yukina left many works in the world, as though in answer to these words she heard on the coast that day)

Yukina’s Rough Chronology

491: Born in Aceid in Elphegort.

499: Meets Clarith and Michaela.

500: Receives a notebook from her mother Mikina for her birthday.

Moves to Marlon.

Publishes her first novella.

504: Goes traveling on her own, against her parents’ wishes.

Riliane (Lily) Mouchet

Then the character:

Despite seeking asylum in Beelzenia before the Retasan coup, she immediately returned to the Lucifenian army afterwards. During the course of the “New Four Horsemen” incident in Levianta she wound up dueling with Germaine, and managed to safely secure victory. She quit the army after getting married, and had two kids.

(Even after Lucifenia became a republic, Lily continued to serve the country in which she’d been born and raised as its female general.)

Lily’s Rough Chronology

480: Born as the daughter of Lucifenian general Gaston

500: Gaston dies, the cause being his duel with the masked man.

503: Is tasked with countering the resistance by King Kyle. Later becomes commander of Retasan fortress after it’s taken back from the resistance.

505: Quits the Lucifenian army and seeks asylum in the Beelzenian Empire.

Returns to the Lucifenian army after the Retasan coup.

Elluka Clockworker

Then the character:

Having collected several “Vessels of Deadly Sin” from Mikina, Elluka once more began her journey with Gumillia seeking out the others. By running across Abyss IR through various incidents, such as the “New Four Horsemen Incident” and “The Toragay Serial Murders”, she learned that Abyss IR’s true identity was that of her younger sister in law, Irina. In the year 611, she challenged Irina to a final battle at Merrigod Plateau. After that, she was next seen in the country of Jakoku to the far East in 842.

(Having gained an eternal life, she takes on different roles in different countries as the ages pass. She says that she’s “just killing time”, but what is her true motive?)

Irina

Elluka once had a fiancé that she loved. His name was Kiril Clockworker. He had a younger sister who was a talented mage, and her name was Irina.

The Leviantan Catastrophe

Occuring in year 013, this was the event that led to the downfall of the Magic Kingdom Levianta. It is said that this occurred during a magical experiment going on in the Royal Research Institute. However, there are some very interesting words noted on this, such as in Wiegenlied of Green Held’s statement of how “The Clockwork Secret Art failed and Elluka destroyed her own country”, and “the ‘Ma’ from 500 years ago survived” in Praefacio of Blue. There’s still quite a few riddles that have yet to be cleared up on this event.

Elluka’s Rough Chronology

013: The old Magic Kingdom Levianta is destroyed by the Leviantan Catastrophe.

015: Tasked with collecting the “Vessels of Deadly Sin” by the great land god Held.

137: Obtains Lukana Octo’s body via the swap technique.

325: Tasked with investigating Banica Conchita in the Beelzenian Empire.

480: Becomes a subordinate of Lucifenia’s king Arth I (the oath of Sanosun Bridge).

491: Purges the “Demon of Deadly Sin” possessing RIliane, seals the mirror that was its vessel.

499: Reincarnates Held’s kin, the spirits Michaela and Gumillia, into human beings and then takes them on as apprentices.

500: Pushed onward by the Green Hunting order, flees Lucifenia with Gumillia.

After retrieving Michaela’s sapling, they obtain the sin vessel “The Venom Sword” from Keel Freezis.

501: Becomes the target of the “Witch Hunt Order” by sneaking into the Lucifenian Palace.

502: Battles with Abyss IR in Marlon. Her body is stolen, and her spirit moves into Gumillia’s body.

505: Battles with Abyss IR using Gumillia’s body. Secures victory and takes her body back.

Abyss IR (Irina Clockworker)

Then the character:

The cat plushy that was her body was destroyed during the duel on the coast, and she was thought to have died; she showed up again during the “New Four Horseman Incident”. She hijacked Germaine’s body, and one hundred years later founded the criminal organization “Pere Noel” under the name of “Julia Abelard”. She secretly maneuvered behind the scenes in the “Toragay Serial Murders” and the “Lemy the Ripper Killings”. She sent a greeting to Elluka that began, “To my beloved sister-in-law”, challenging her to a duel at Merrigod Plateau.

Gumillia

Then the character:

Continuing the journey on the search for the “Vessels of Deadly Sin” with Elluka, she is caught up in various incidents. However, she disappears from the main stage after the “Duel of Merrigod Plateau”.

(Continuing her magical studies as Elluka’s apprentice, she specializes in magic that controls plants, owing from her position as a former spirit. Where did she disappear to after the duel at Merrigod Plateau…?)

Gumillia’s Rough Chronology

Pre-Millennium: Born as a dependent of the great earth god Held.

137: Asmodean noble Gumina Glassred regularly visits on pilgrimages.

499: Reborn into a human by Elluka using Gumina Glassred’s appearance. Becomes Elluka’s apprentice, and serves in Lucifenia as a court mage.

500: Pushed on by the Green Hunting order, flees Lucifenia with Elluka. She recovers Michaela’s sapling, and contributes to beating up on Kyle.

Stays in Keel’s estate in Marlon for about 5 months.

Challenges Clarith to a bout over Michaela’s sapling.

501: Sneaks into the Lucifenian Palace with Elluka and becomes the target of the “Witch Hunt” order.

502: Encounters Abyss IR in Marlon. With her body stolen, Elluka’s spirit resides in Gumillia’s body.

Pulling on Elluka’s connections, she assumes the role of consultant to the Beelzenian Emperor.

505: Tasked with dealing with the insurgence of dead soldiers by Ney.

Quits being a consultant and travels to the Lucifenian palace. Hires on Germaine as a body-guard.

Clashes with Abyss IR in Marlon. Recovers Elluka’s body.

Germaine Avadonia

Then the character

After the battle with Abyss IR on the coast, she once more set out on a journey with Chartette. Three years later they were caught up in the “New Four Horsemen Incident” in Holy Levianta, which occurred as a result of the “Twin Swords of Levianta”, one of the “Vessels of Deadly Sin”. There, they were reunited with Abyss IR, who they had thought dead. They fought once more, but Germaine was defeated as a result of the wound to her neck she’d suffered back at the coast battle.

After that Germaine had her body stolen by Abyss IR, and a hundred years later founded the criminal organization “Pere Noel” under the name of “Julia Abelard”. In the end, she was terminated at Elluka’s hand at Merrigod Plateau.

Germaine’s Body

Germaine’s body, frequently cutting through the vanguard in battle, apparently had a faster healing rate than the average person. According to Abyss IR, there is a strong possibility she is part of the Conchita bloodline.

Germaine’s Rough Chronology

480: Receives life.

482: Becomes Leonhart’s adopted daughter.

491: Allen becomes her foster brother.

500: Becomes the leader of the Resistance, and spearheads the Lucifenian Revolution. She is dubbed the “Red-armored Swordswoman”.

When the revolution is complete, she leaves Lucifenia with Chartette. She becomes a target of the “Witch Hunt” order.

504: Reunites with other Resistance members at the end of her journey. Joins the Langley Unit of the Beelzenian army.

505: Fights in the Retasan Coup.

Journeys with Gumillia under her employ.

(She handily skewered Abyss IR during the duel at the coast. Her being able to stand despite her wounds is because she was being supported by her “idiot little brother”)

Chartette Langley

Then the character:

Quitting the Beelzenian army, she goes out on a journey with Germaine. As a result of the “New Four Horseman Incident” that occurred in Holy Levianta, she winds up being the caretaker of the Vessel of Deadly Sin, the “Twin Swords of Levianta”. However she is never taken over by the demon inside, perhaps because of her carefree nature. After that she journeys again to protect the “Twin Swords of Levianta” from Abyss IR, and ultimately arrives in the land of Jakoku, to the far east of Evillious. To hide them from Abyss IR, Chartette reforges the “Twin Swords of Levianta”, changing them to scissors.

(She calls Germaine “Big-sis” out of gratitude for having been saved by her when she was young, but she’s actually at least six years older than her.)

Jakoku

And island located to the distant east of the Evillious region. Maintaining commerce with Asmodean, it has a particular culture involving things like kimono and katana. A serial murder case occurs in Enbizaka in year 842.

Chartette’s Rough Chronology

474: Receives life.

492: Is kidnapped by bandits staying in a secret base on the Forest of Bewilderment.

499: Starts to work as a maid attendant on the princess.

500: Participates in the revolution as a member of the resistance. Ultimately goes on a journey with Germaine.

504: Becomes head of the Langley Unit in Beelzenia.

505: Joins in on the Retasan Coup.

The New Four Horsemen Incident

An event that occurred in 508, in the major religious superpower of Holy Levianta. At the time, a hardline reformist sect harshly opposed the Levin church, and were carrying out attacks against them. During all that they came into contact with Mikhail Asayev, candidate for leadership of the church, and with three of his loyal underlings in tow he founded a new political organization, “Neo Apocalypse”. They began to commit acts of terrorism in the country. These actions appeared to be out of “envy” towards his contemporaries, who had surpassed him in advancement in the world, but behind the scenes he was apparently involved with a “Vessel of Deadly Sin”.

The great church requested other countries to provide aid in suppressing the terrorism, which was denied by Marlon and Elphegort, not wanting to get involved in any dispute. The Republic of Lucifenia as well only went so far as to send a single military unit to them. However, the great church’s efforts strengthened resistance to the radical reformist sects, starting with Neo Apocalypse, and this developed into the “New Four Horsemen Incident”, a large-scale terrorist event that sought the capitulation of the church.

When it comes to the basis of the “Neo Apocalypse” name, it derives from the criminal organization “Apocalypse”, which existed in the time of Magic Kingdom Levianta. Apocalypse was also headed by four members; Hansel and Gretel’s mother, Meta Salmhofer, was one of them.

Keel Freezis

Then the character:

The wound he sustained from being attacked by Mikina when she was hijacked by Abyss IR never fully heals, and after-effects remain on Keel’s body. Shortly thereafter he announces his retirement, and his son Shaw takes over his seat as head of the Freezis Firm. Naturally, as they couldn’t completely entrust all of the responsibility to Shaw, still being a child, Keel and his advisers wound up providing assistance for the bulk of the practical business side of things.

The Freezis Foundation established in his later years would end up having a great influence on the political and business establishment long after his death.

(Keel and Mikina had lived half of their lives magnificently, but now they led a quiet lifestyle surrounded by three children. However, that was apparently only how things were on the surface.)

The Toragay Serial Murders

A strange case occurred in the town of Toragay in Elphegort in year 609 wherein many people started dying off, one by one. By the time it came to light that this was a mass-poisoning conducted by Margarita Blankenheim, it was already too late; Toragay was already in a state of ruin, and had become a ghost town. Elluka and Gumillia’s personal investigation into the matter, surmising that “Pere Noel” and a “Vessel of Deadly Sin” were involved behind the scenes, was also after the vessel had already been taken away.

The ones who were tasked by the Elphegort government with investigating into this matter was the Freezis Foundation that Keel had founded. Margarita was the daughter of a doctor, and apparently she had used her poison, “Gift”, while saying that it was a “sleep drug”.

The Lemy the Ripper Killings

A serial-killing murder case that occurred in the Lucifenian Republic’s territory of Rolled in the year 610. It’s derived from the killer’s name and their modus operandi.

The orphan Lemy was adopted by criminal organization Pere Noel’s leader Julia Abelard, and under her brainwashing he would go out every night as “Fifth, Pierrot”, attacking wealthy merchants and committing assassinations. Pere Noel also had other members, such as “Santa”, “The Blue One”, “Sleep Princess”, and “The Samurai”.

In posterity it is said that this case closed with Elluka and Gumillia killing Lemy. At this time it was revealed via a letter that Julia had left behind that she was Elluka’s young sister in law, Irina Clockworker.

Mikina Freezis

Then the character:

After she was released by Abyss IR, she dedicated her life to nursing her husband. After Keel’s death she abandons her inheritance and secretly lives alone in a private house in Marlon. She didn’t want her children to know where she was located, but her son Shaw went looking for her soon before she passed on. Mikina breathed her last before her children, who had all come running for her.

Shaw Freezis

Then the character:

After inheriting the Freezis Firm he gradually showed his prodigious prowess at business, supported by his splendid aides and father, making the firm bigger than ever. However, he did receive some criticism from his employees for allowing Elluka to freely use his wealth and influence after the Freezis Foundation was established.

Aile Freezis

Then the character:

As she grew up her sickly countenance improved, and she led a quiet life after becoming married to a Marlon noble.

Freezis Family Rough Chronology

473: Keel Freezis and Mikina Sfarz are born.

484: Mikina meets Kyle at a dinner banquet for the Marlon royal family.

489: Keel is requested by Kyle to investigate into Margaret's suicide.

491: Keel and Mikina elope to Elphegort.

They birth their first daughter Yukina in Aceid. They open up a general store.

492: Mikina is given the “Marlon Spoon” vessel of deadly sin from Prim.

493: They birth their eldest son Shaw.

494: Mikina’s father visits from Marlon. Shaw is burned by the “Marlon Spoon”.

495: Their second daughter Aile is born.

499: Michaela and Clarith are hired on as maids.

500: They are imprisoned in the Lucifenian Palace by the Green Hunting order. After they are released they temporarily stay with Lucifenian merchant Corpa, before returning to Marlon.

505: Mikina visits the Held monastery in the kingdom of Lucifenia to search for a “Vessel of Deadly Sin”.

Manipulated by Abyss IR, Mikina attacks Keel. She is released from Abyss IR at Lucifenia’s Anonymous Coast.

directory

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biorust-art · 5 years

Note

I'd love to hear about your symbolism for the three tarot cards you drew, especially The Tower! (I read tarot, and I love seeing how people interpret the messages into their own drawings ❤️)

:0 ! okie- most of its fandom based so you kinda have to read Satan and Me (if you dont already) to understand it fully but! ill try my best.

First of all here are the pics to ref back too:

okay here we go

Tarot cards Symbolism-

Characters-

The star- is Lucifer for obvious reasons- his face is hiddenin all the cards I drew for him and the main feature is his wings – except thereare only two pairs instead of three. He is falling, and out of his hands are MichaelmasDaisy which symbolizes ‘Farwell’.

The Moon- is Michael, I chose him for this one (in stead oflike- the Sun) because of his close relationship to the Star. He is flying andout of his hands are Iris flowers called ‘Lucifer’. He is holding his heart symbolizingthat he’ll never really let him go- even if he is shown literally letting theflowers fall. His bralettes are like cuffs.

The Star and the Moon. – I put these two together for areason- A) because im mean like that. B) notice how their hands are both facingupward, this symbolized how they’ll never agree (this is directly contrastingthe High Priestess and Devil card- in which Natalie’s hand is downward aka-they can take each other’s hand. Lucifer is in the bottom corner while Michaelis in the top – represents the position that they are in- in a literal and metaphoricalsense – Michael will always see himself as above Lucifer. Both of their backgroundsare sunsets- representing the end of an era/ relationship.

- The flowers I used to represent these two are asfollows-

- Alstroemeria- devotion, friendship

- Basil- love, hatred

- Columbine red anxious/ folly

- Lavender devotion/ distrust

- Thyme strength courage

- Violet faithfulness

I use the flowers in both an ironicsense and a more face value sense- to kind of mark the confusing relationshipthey have with each other and the mixed feelings after the fall.

The Tower- This one is Lucifer’s soul (this is gonna beconfusing if you don’t read the comic rip) I chose him for the care bc he isliterally on a tower and for the fact that this Literally is Hell. To be there,to see Lucifer’s soul would mean that the worst has happened and has yet tocome. This also echoes the fact that Lucifer’s soul itself had to endure millenniaof torture. However there is a lighter side, he is looking off into the edge,with a life line holding him down- so he can’t be touched by the other soulsbelow him. On his back there are two scars (spoiler alert) it’s a call to Lucifercutting off his wings ->A drastic change as happened- for better or forworse- who knows.

Background for the Tower

The ‘milky way’ a cross the sky also symbolizes Lucifer’scut wings and how whats happening does effect hell. The stars are red andusually paired together to act like eyes / to give hell a more creepy vibe and,the falling stars are new arrivals into Hell.

Continuing with the Victorian flower symbolism- children’sgraves were usually placed near Oak trees- a reference to how Natalie signedaway her soul (and died) while she was still a child (the tree is a manifestationof her contract in hell) as well as how Lucifer’s soul looks like a child. Thereare tally marks carved into the tree to mark the ‘days’ that lucifer has beenwith the tree.

Mushrooms represent both rot and regrowth and, while alsobeing fitting for the environment, represents how a soul can change rapidly etc.Most of them are parasitic or poisonous including ‘destroying angel’ and ‘angelof death’. They are also the color of the rainbow (see- lucifer’s wings)

The boarder- Sorry you’ll have to compare the rest of my Tarotcards to see the pattern but! All the cards have basically the same boarder witha few significant differences.

- The color of the column- basically it representshow close the character is to heaven- the marble/gold in the Star and Mooncards vs the black in the Tower.

- Markings- the Tower has eyes at the top – aka-hell is literally peaking out and there are hand markings on the column once againto emphasis hell’s influence.

- The gate- Lucifer’s gate is open while Michael’sis closed while Lucifer’s soul has none at all. This can be a number of things –like the openminded-ness or loss of virtue (not in the sex way) while in hellthere are little morals left. Can also represent the gates of Heaven- openmeaning they will never hold Lucifer again while Michael is locked behind it. (onceagain- no gate in Hell)

- The stained glass. There are little circles atthe top and on the gates- notice that there are 8 of them – one for each colorof the Archangels + Lucifer. Due to the fact I put the layer on Opacity, theTower’s stained glass is only red/magenta >;}

- The skys beyond the gate. Each card was different.In the Star- it’s a rainbow of colors not only going back to his wings but alsohis family and, some of the stars are falling while others stay still. In theStar’s is only shades of blue- aka- Michael’s colors (and only Michael’scolors) and, the stars are not moving. The Tower is a direct continuation of thebackground with the same red star pattern described before.

Thank you for the ask! I know it was a flood gate, but I do appreciateit and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading haha

The original post is HERE (original tarot set HERE) and Satan and Me can be read HEREor on TAPAS

#satan and me #asks #thank you!#long post

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asifzschool · 5 years

Text

The Minority Rights Monopoly of a Hindutva Nation

The game From seventy years, it has been the favorite game of Hindutva. The greatest monopoly in this world - that is called minority rights.

There is a traffic stop here. The signal is red. Unless you are a minority, you will never know how does it feel. You can not put yourself in the shoes of a minority, if you are a majority. For me, being a minority is an everyday thing. I struggle with my religious identity all the time. I face questions, I reply them, and I get into arguments. In this world of Islamophobia, my faith is put on trial every day. I know perfectly well that nobody wants to become a minority. If I were a Hindu, I would be grateful for it. I wish I were a Hindu! I wish I were a Christian! A Buddhist, a Taoist - anything at all but a Muslim! If I were something else, I would be free. I wouldn't have this ordeal. I wouldn't have to go through things I now fight with for being a Muslim. And I know the ways around that word, minority. There are too many ways to use this word, to abuse it and exploit it. It is a legit word. In all context and circumstances, a minority is a minority. It means that there is a group of people who do not posses the same privileges as their majority counterpart. And the world is always against them. In our subcontinent that exists down the Himalayas, we have been majorities and minorities from hundreds of years. From the last seventy years, it has become a game. Instead of cards, dice, deeds, game cash and tokens, we have people here. Real people. Mostly, we play it through riots.

We don't purchase properties. We plunder them. We confiscate properties left behind by our enemies. During riots, we forcibly take them away. We take over controls. We take things that did not belong to us, had it not been for a religious bloodshed.

This is the reality of Indian subcontinent. The game is our destiny. All of us, Hindus and Muslims. Our ancestors played it. They rolled the dice. They kept playing, until the last day of their existence. They've left the court afterwards. It was for us to take over. And now we're playing it. This is our history. Made of countless tales of religious wars, creating and separating countries. That is how India, Pakistan and Bangladesh were created, each with their own religious agenda. Far from it all, I live here in Malaysia, a country where nobody is playing games with religion. Here, people spend away their whole lifespan peacefully. Without trouble. Malay Muslims, the local Tamil Indians and the Malay Chinese. The last time a riot broke out was in 1969. In the Indian subcontinent, it is a completely different story. Rolling the dice Bangladesh is the youngest of nations down the Himalayas. This is where I am from. The official agenda of creating this country was secularism, which turned into pro-India servitude soon enough. While India is your neighbor, trust me, you can not afford to be a secular. If secularism means watching mosques destroyed and keeping your 'Muslim' mouth shut, then you can. You can simply shut up. That's absolutely fine, with both slaves and masters. The relationship between Hindus and Muslims in this territory has always been that of either slaves or masters. Masters were rich, slaves were poor. This is the reason behind the creation of Pakistan, to free Muslims from Hindutva's slavery. That is how the poor, low class Muslims became a Middle class. Bangladesh broke away from it in early 70s. It was East Pakistan. The only Pakistan that remains now was the West Wing of it. Since the beginning, India was rolling the dice. To roll the dice is to create an issue. Mostly, a religious disturbance. India has always been the mightiest in population, in economy and in every other aspects. So, the other countries nearby were expected to pay tax to it. To their master, India. The history is long, and endless. Babri Mosque, in 1992, shaped much of what it is now.

People witnessed multiple narratives from both sides. Muslims had their mosque destroyed, crushed to the ground, while Hindus were reading a book called 'Lajja', authored by a woman called Taslima Nasreen. Muslims called the book a 'BJP propaganda'.

It was the biggest demolition of something so big of its kind, in the recent history, before 9/11. When Twin Towers were destroyed, 9/11 replaced the Babri day in calendar in the magnitude of events. Back then, Hindutva rolled the dice. It created the saga. Riots broke out everywhere. In Pakistan, India and Bangladesh. In 2019, Hindutva rolled the dice once again. Again a woman, this time. Because in the age of colonialism, which likes to camouflage itself as liberty, female is the right gender. Things become soft core when it is a woman. Besides, New York Times can always decorate its headlines with words like 'Meet the Woman.'

So we had a Priya Saha. She went straight to Donald Trump. Could it have been a Muslim woman, in the stead of her place? Who would it be? Malala Yousufzai? She's a Nobel laureate, and she's a Muslim. She could have gone to Donald Trump and expressed her distress. But it would risk her image. Already she is mocked at in her own country, Pakistan. Then who? A Gujarat riot victim? Somebody from Assam? The Indian state where they were hunting down the Muslim poets right before it happened? There were some poets among them who were women. They did not get a US visa. Priya Saha got it. I still remember the day before it happened. People in Facebook were posting about this 'Miya poetry', which were elegies of the Assamese Muslim minority. They were written in the local dialect. A dialect that is not considered entirely 'polite' or 'standard', when it comes to the traditional literature.

The next day, Priya Saha's video went viral. It was a short clip. Roughly, a few seconds. It contained a footage of 'the Hindu Lady and Donald Trump', almost a Disney story of an unknown woman holding hands of a US President.

For what I know, I've never heard of Priya Saha before. I did not know who she was. The first time I learnt about her was 18 July 2019, after her video popped up in Facebook. When the clip was out, everybody in Bangladesh forgot about everything else. For the next thirty days, Facebook was all about Priya Saha. She alleged, 37 million Hindus are 'missing' from Bangladesh. That is a genocide. Probably the largest in the world. We have our war jokes there, about 3 million people who had supposedly perished in the war against Pakistan. Now the Bangladeshi people, the Muslims - were looking for these 'missing' 37 millions. In Bangladesh, it became a new joke. Because we always count in 'millions'. She said, Bangladesh still has 18 million Hindus. Some of them were out proving her number. Among the 37 millions, probably 30 million Hindus were never born, who could have been born otherwise, had Muslims been kind to them. In the Muslim majority nation, it took the joke even further. Not being born started to seem like a thing that's funnier. If we count from 1947, that is a true number - although. That was the year of India and Pakistan's creation. Had the demographics flowed on the way it did before, we might have had 30 million unborn Hindus who would grow into adults by now, plus 7 millions more who were displaced and exiled.

Priya Saha referenced a professor, who has a Muslim name, Abul Barkat. He disowned her statement.

Once again, Muslims were the violent majority. Their reaction was something Westerns would call 'outrageous'.

Thanks to BJP, that it exists. There are, somehow, balance in things. The Bangladeshi Muslims know about their existence. We did not want to deliver BJP their next propaganda, after Nasreen's 'Lajja'. That is how the riot did not happen. We were expecting a riot. We were scared of it. But the fear of a BJP propaganda making gains and profits was much more greater than that - to the Muslim majority. That fear, stopped the riots. Not a single Hindu died. Not a single Hindu was killed. There were no mass rapes of Hindus. No Hindu girls were stripped nude in broad daylight. BJP wanted all of it to happen. They did not, unlike before. From time to time, such things did happen in Bangladesh. And they gave BJP a solid ground for their arguments. This time, there was no bloodshed. No massacre. At the end of the day, it made the Muslim majority feel more confident. This was the first time they ran down a Hindu woman for a complain like this. In the recent Awami regime, that too was unheard of.

Some of them felt more radicalized. The Hindus were silent. The Muslims accused them of 'having more privileges’ under the Awami regime. As they said, Hindus were getting more jobs, government was hiring them in more top posts and etc. Hindus did not reply to it. They did not want to make the noise louder. They wanted it to die down, as minorities do. In US, Priya Saha did not make news, simply. Nobody in Trump's country heard of her from the US media. The New York Times was busy with Ilhan Omar's minority politics. Not that it did not know about Saha, it decided to skip it. Regardless of the turmoil in the South Asian country that their President has caused.

BJP did not shy away from it, though. They protested against the Bangladeshi Muslims in front of the country's consulate in West Bengal. BJP did not deny that it rolled the dice, either. They admitted it quite frankly, that they sponsored Priya Saha.

They rolled the dice. The game started. The show was on.

Priya Saha went on saying, 'I've learnt all this from Sheikh Hasina, my Prime Minister. She inspired me to say this. Now I feel endangered. My life is threatened.'

The Game After Nothing can be right and wrong at the same time. Either it is right, or it is wrong. BJP kills Muslims for eating beef. Either it is right, or it is wrong.

Muslims threatened Priya Saha and called out their desire to turn her into a whore. Either it is right, or it is wrong. 37 Millions might have been a fat fetched number. But some Hindus were displaced, raped and burnt. Either it is right or it is wrong. So, who is the guilty party here? Who's guilty? BJP, or Muslims? What if they both are criminals? The fact is, nothing is that simple. Nobody is guilty as a community, just as nobody is innocent as a community, either. At least in our part of the world, where these things happen. BJP rose to power after killing thousands of Muslims. If they killed millions, that would have been crazier. They openly threaten their Muslim minority in India with it. They say they will kill millions.

Either that is right, or that is severely wrong. It can't be both at the same time. There was no jury board here. Nobody awarded BJP a 'Freedom of Speech prize', or punished the Muslims - for the Priya Saha episode of Bangladeshi history. The same Awami regime who came to power through BJP's machinery were quick to declare their indifference. Although the PM said that Priya must be given a chance to defend herself. So, the issue was not solved. Priya Saha complained. What after that? Should Muslims change their behaviors towards Hindus? Should BJP change its behavior, towards every other minority around India? People did not have answers to these questions. Everybody knows neither India nor Bangladesh is Malaysia. Here, people use the word 'race' instead. They take courses about interracial relations. Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists live side by side, in the Malaysian society. Most of them don't practice secularism. They practice their own religion. The country's constitution keeps Islam as its state religion - that doesn't stop the Malaysian youngsters from pursuing diverse lifestyles that are completely westernized. Some Malaysian girls choose to wear Hijab, others pick Bikinis. In India, that is impossible. It is sort of impossible in Bangladesh as well, unless you are very rich. You at least have to be from the middle class, with your social securities guaranteed. For us who are from either Bangladesh, India or Pakistan, we don't see our countries going somewhere remotely near to that in the next hundred years. We are a war-torn populace. In Malaysia, we pretend like we don't mind each other. That we are absolutely fine with each other's nationality and presence. Here in Malaysia, Indian and Pakistanis are friends. Even couples. Back home, we are enemies. The deadliest enemies of each other. So, those of us who escaped but still are suffering from irrational homesickness, we look back to our countries. We check Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. We see what is happening. Thus, we live two different realities at the same time. The Malaysian reality and the reality of our homes. After a month, Priya Saha was still hot in newspapers. Here were the Muslims, still blasting her without mercy. However, there were no riots. Only the ISKCON was closing down. That's the only blow the Hindu community has taken.

BJP couldn't make much profit out of it. There wasn't enough materials to write a new novel. Probably, a sequel of 'Lajja.' So, Hindus were unharmed. For the first time perhaps. It is not natural. While Muslims did not harm them, they still kept bashing. Through their words. It was a great insult, for sure. Having no rise of terrorism in the country was an insult, too. BJP was literally insulted, with no terror whatsoever. No temples were exploded with bombs. In Bangladesh, people do tolerate each other. It is not communal harmony, it is tolerance. The very basic of it. Nobody is fanatic enough to drop a bomb in a temple. It is not middle east. But that is of no use to BJP. BJP wants more novels. More Taslima Nasreens. More Hindutva bestsellers. Frankly speaking, once upon a time, this woman's words were dangerous enough to set off a riot in the country. She still keeps setting riots, but in India. If a minority person complains about the sufferings of a minority, can you simply call it Hindutva? Can you silence it? Can you turn down the volume? The question is, should you? Even if it sets off riots? Priya Saha is from the Minority community. Her words were setting off riots. Almost. That is the fact. Had she did not went to Trump, Bangladesh wouldn't be in an almost riot situation. She chose Trump for it. People started questioning, since when did Trump become the jury?

The fact is, the riot was not provoked by Muslim hardliners this time. But here was BJP, deprived of its chocolate. Its unborn bestseller. Like a naughty boy in the street who can't have his ice cream, after the ice cream trolley has went away without stopping.

Now the naughty boy wanted to destroy the world. Because the whole world was criminal enough for having ice-creams. He was deprived of it. He missed. Soon enough, in the following month of August, it was the article 370 of Indian constitution that was tampered with, instead of born and unborn 37 millions. It cracked like a firework in whole Bangladesh, right after Priya Saha. Muslims and Hindus were at it again. That article, in that fucking constitution, gave Kashmir a statehood. Before BJP tampered it, the Indian Kashmir was still a state. The Pakistani Kashmir was Azaad, free.

How easy it is to play with people's lives! Lives of millions! All it takes is a fucking constitution. A Muslim MP in India ripped it apart before walking out of the parliament that day.

37 millions was a joke. 12.5 million people of Kashmir, of which 68% are Muslims, was not even a good tragedy. These millions of Kashmiri Muslims were already 'have been born'. Nobody offered a figure for how many million weren't born there. After BJP passed a bill that changed Article 370, the newly revised constitution was shoved down people's throats. They happened to be Muslims, from Kashmir. It was 5 August 2019, the day India dismissed the article. Exactly 18 days after they cracked Priya Saha.

Right now, Kashmiri Muslims were fleeing for their lives. The Indian Kashmir was no more a state. Now Hindus could purchase lands there, an option they did not have before.

The state/territory was put under a lockdown.

Nobody could get in or out. The internet was cut off. The Kashmiri newspapers stopped. Phones were disconnected. All communications ceased.

Twenty days later, as I'm writing this in the evening of 25th August, the Kashmiri newspapers are still not back online. One of my Kashmiri friend in Malaysia, did receive a phone call from his family in Kashmir the day before yesterday, for the first time after lockdown. Rest of it, nobody knows. In today's world, nobody knows what is happening in a state/territory that is placed under a lockdown. New York Times has been there. They came out with horrific pictures. But the world is too tired for horrors in Kashmir.

But a few videos were somehow uploaded online. They show people running to-and-fro, in the hospitals. Apparently too many has been injured in Kashmir. People are assuming they are Muslims, leaving a few Indian soldiers aside. Yeah, some Jawans of the Indian military also suffered major and minor injuries, when the locals threw rocks at them. Imran Khan, the Pakistani PM, compared it to 'Nazi ideology', this ghettoization of Kashmiri Muslims. He still refrains from sending his troops for a war, although. But BJP is calling for a war. War is what it wants. War is what Kashmiris want, too. Because Kashmiri Muslims want Azaadi, freedom. Kashmir has its own history. In 1947, the states and kingdoms of British India were asked to join either India or Pakistan. The Hindu Rajah of Kashmir, decided to join India. Without giving a damn to the Muslim majority in Kashmir. Eventually, Kashmir was divided into two. Azaad Kashmir, that is in Pakistan, and the Occupied Kashmir in India, as most Kashmiri Muslims from both sides and Pakistan calls it. The Maqbooza Kashmir, in Urdu.

The same BJP that kills Muslims for eating beef has unleashed its terror in the Maqbooza Kashmir.

It is still allowing the foreign press there. New York Times, BBC and all. But from the Kashmiri people, not a word has been heard from last twenty days. Trump is here again. After Priya Saha, he's now saying he will 'mediate' between Pakistan and India. His 'mediation’ will bring peace, he said. But the Kashmiris want Azaadi, which is impossible to achieve without breaking peace. Azaadi means either Maqbooza Kashmir joins Pakistan or it breaks away from India, like Bangladesh did - from West Pakistan. Either way, Azaadi will make India lose some geography completely, forever. A 'peace process' will return the Occupied Kashmir its lost statehood, at most. That's not what Kashmiris want. They've suffered enough when it was a state. They are suffering when it is no longer a state, too. They wanna break free. Absolutely free. Free from India.

That is not Priya Saha's concern, for sure. But when the lockdown started, BJP asked Hindus to 'go marry the Kashmiri girls (and convert them to Hinduism)'.

There aren't 37 million Muslims there. There are millions of them, though. 68% of the 12.5 million, how much is that? Almost 8.5 million. A lot of these 8.5 million Muslims are now in police custody. Being a Muslim is a crime under the laws and codes preferred by BJP. Many of them are in hospitals, injured. As reports are coming, those hospitals are being raided by Indian military. Kashmiri women have been raped since history. From years. There is a mass rape epidemic in Kashmir. The raped girls are all Muslims, all the rapists are Hindus. There has been countless mass killings. Each with a different name. Kunan Poshpora, Sopore, Kupwara, Varmul.

BJP has a plan for it all. It asked Hindus to purchase lands there so that it can replace the Kashmiri Muslim majority with a new Hindu majority, within a few upcoming generations. The majority Muslims will lose their majority status, eventually. In the demography. It looks like the 'missing' 37 million of Priya Saha have flocked there in Kashmir, straight from Bangladesh. They will avenge Bangladesh with Kashmir, turning the majority Muslims into a minority. After Priya Saha, not a single Hindu girl was raped in Bangladesh. They have been raped before. During the war with Pakistan, they were raped and killed. After the war, they were raped during the riots. This time, there wasn't. Not a single one. The Kashmiri girls are being raped. Right now. The Kashmiri boys are being killed. After Priya Saha. Right at this moment. The Monopoly

What makes a minority? Is it just numbers? Numbers are stupid, come on!

Minorities come in all shapes and colors and sizes. They are tall and short, fair and white as well as pitch-black skins. In Africa, certain human species were wiped out because they were dwarfs. They did not have the normal height as other people. Now they are wiping out Muslims. The definition is not just numbers. It may vary here and there, but all the minorities in the world have a common feature. They are discriminated against, and they suffer bigotry. If I am not hired for a top post in a company because of my religion, it makes me a minority - despite the demographics telling otherwise. If a company hires a Hindu man to appoint him as their CEO just because he is a Hindu, it makes him a majority. Because he is sharing the same privileges with the majority religion and gaining unfair advantages for his religion. If a country's police department never arrests criminals from Hindu religion just because he's a Hindu - it does make them the ruling majority. Because a Muslim criminal wasn't to be spared for the same crime. Only the majority knows how to get away with religion. Minority does not have that chance. So, demographics often lie. The majority-minority binary doesn't stop at religion, either. It goes as far as people's sexuality, their lifestyles and professions as well. Bangladesh have a Hindu minority. So did Kashmir. Kashmir's Hindu Pandit minority had to evacuate the valley, when tensions ran high.

Kashmir's Muslim majority is now being butchered by Indian Hindus - who are not from Kashmir. These butchers are no Pandits, either. In no definition of the world, the butchered people are a ruling class. The ruling class are never persecuted. The ruling class are not shot dead. That never happened in the human history. Both the Kashmiri Muslims and the Kashmiri Pandits are minorities - in their own ways. Next the demography will change. Kashmiri Muslims will become a minority in numbers as well. If they are still the majority, they are asking for their majority rights perhaps. That is the kind of stuff happening in Kashmir. The situation in Bangladesh is not that different. Except that we saw Hindu houses getting burnt as recent as three years ago. People burnt their houses and started looting them. I don't remember Muslims hailing the looters, but they say those were political goons. But that made me realize that yes, it still can happen. Three years ago, BJP had its chocolate, too. It did not stop in Bangladesh. The Indian Hindu fanatics celebrated that riot in Nasirnagar. It gave them exactly what they wanted, excuses to kill Muslims.

The Bangladeshi cops setting fire on a Santal tribal village

It stirred up emotions to get BJP exactly what it wanted as well, more Hindu votes. Priya Saha alleged that her house was burnt down. Not in Nasirnagar, it was somewhere else. Bangladeshi media said, she's torched her own house herself. Never mind Bangladeshi media, they suck. However, a thousand homes were burnt down in India because they belonged to Muslims. The Muslim shops, looted. Cash boxes, vandalized. There were Bilkis Bano, Jakia Jafri. There was Israt Jahan, a Muslim girl killed in a false encounter.

Did Bilkis Bano ever fantasize to reach Donald Trump? Did Jakia Jafri want Donald Trump to listen to her story? Did Israt? Would the White House let them enter? It is the same thing. They too are minority. That day, Donald Trump was there to listen to all the stories from minority people around the world, in his oval office.

There were some Rohingya Muslims, too. But Jakia Jafri wasn't there. Bilkis Bano wasn't there. Israt was dead long time ago. No Kashmiri was there, either. Besides, Donald Trump shares a very good friendship with Narendra Modi. Why was the Indian minority 'missing' in his oval office that day? Some people asked, some didn't. Because everybody knows it is the same thing, but it is not the same thing. Being a minority is not the same thing for Priya Saha and Bilkis Bano. The later is a Muslim, the former, Hindu. It is not the same thing, in our subcontinent. Priya Saha can meet Donald Trump if she wants. The Muslim minorities can not. Israel and US will listen to her if they feel like it. They rarely listen to Muslims. Donald Trump declared a 'Muslim ban', a few years ago - if I need to remind you. Trump is 'mediating'. That is not stopping Hindus. That is not stopping Narenda Modi from butchering Kashmiris. So, what's the conclusion? Both the Hindu minority and Muslim minority are in hellfire. The majorities are roasting them both. But when it is the Hindu minority, their stories make best sellers. When it is Muslims, France Germany Italy Nicaragua Israel and a few dozen of other countries are not interested. So a man asked in Facebook, a Muslim man from Bangladesh. He said, 'thousands of Kashmiri girls are killed and raped everyday. They aren't winning a Nobel prize for it. Malala did.'

Kashmiri girls are not Malala. They are not fighting the 'war on terror'. So, when they will pen their stories, it won't sell. Mostly, the Bangladeshis, Pakistanis and Indians will read it.

The Hindu minorities get that extra favor. Muslim minorities don’t. Hindutva always excuses its crimes with their Hindu minority. Muslims make no excuses, officially.

Is this really about minority, at all? Or is it about Hinduism? The Hindutva brigade expanding its territory?

To this day, Indians are the sole owner of this monopoly. Because they placed their minorities in Muslim lands. They alone play this minority rights monopoly. They even make money with it. They make a thriving business out of their sufferings. The Indian subcontinent's Muslims did not join them. Their Bilkis Banos were not sexy enough for Donald Trump. We have a minority, too. We have only God to complain. When the God finally listens.

Asif Tamoso 25 August 2019

(Photographs: Collected)

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#Muslim #Hindu #Minority #Majority #India #Pakistan #Bangladesh #Kashmir #Priya Saha #Donald Trump #Sheikh Hasina #Taslima Nasreen #Ilhan Omar #Article 370 #Indian Military #Police #Indian Army #Azaadi

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softupshur · 5 years

Text

The Lord Rejoices: Chapter 21

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Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

~Updates every Sunday~

During Temple Gate’s founding years, Marta nears womanhood and wonders of God’s plan for her.

*This is my personal favorite chapter and probably the whole reason this fic came to existence so hope you all like this one!*

Chapter 21:

Knoth asked Marta to lock the chapel doors behind them, which she did without question. They went straight to the chamber. Knoth didn’t bother to knock before unlocking the door and throwing it open.

Otis lay still on the floor aside from labored, hoarse breathing.

“Get up,” Knoth snapped.

He did not stir aside from opening his foggy eyes. “What is it?”

“A time to rejoice. Your day of redemption has come,” but Knoth’s voice was joyless when he held out a hand for Otis, who refused it in order to stand on his own.

“Come,” Knoth started down the hall, too fast for Otis to keep up.

Marta lagged behind to walk alongside Otis. Several times, she stopped so he could catch up. Their eyes met only once. The sun shone through the tall windows in the main hall, making Otis shudder. He squinted as his eyes contracted in the light. Leaning limp against a wall, he waited for his vision to adjust, but Marta called his name before it could.

Dragging his feet, he brought himself before Knoth.

“Kneel before the cross,” he ordered.

Otis did as told and bowed his head in prayer to accept Knoth’s blessing, all done with smoothness, as if they had gone through the ritual a hundred times before.

“I must commend your strength, my child,” Knoth started, “For you have endured so much that many a time I feared your flesh would fail you, but here you remain. God has blessed you with great tenacity, yet you throw it away in vain.” He sighed and knelt on one knee so he could meet Otis’s gaze. “Aren’t you tired?” His voice softened. “You must realize that you walk down the path that leads to ruin. I have only wanted to help you through all this time, yet you push me away and bring upon this suffering. Let me take the burden from you. Rest, go home to your wife and child, forget the pain. All I am asking is that you accept me as your prophet. Let the gospel guide your way, and there shall be peace for you.”

Otis’s gaze fell to avoid Knoth’s eye. For a long while, he said nothing. The whole period of silence, Marta held her breath. She released it only when he muttered, “I can’t…”

Knoth’s mouth formed a line. He stood, shaking his head. “Then there is nothing more I can do for you.” He left Otis where he was and placed a hand on Marta’s arm. “Give him rest, child.”

“What?” Marta stared at him in disbelief, but Knoth motioned her towards Otis.

“To continue as he is would only bring grief to himself and all around him. The time has come to end his suffering.”

Marta’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…?”

He nodded when she couldn’t finish her thought. “I do. You are ready and we are left with no other choice.”

“That can’t be,” Marta staggered back, shaking her head as if she could dispel the order. Her stomach curled in on itself. “There must be another way!”

“But there isn’t,” Knoth said. “He has denied the Lord in our midst, committed the greatest sin of all, and we are witness to this. If he cannot repent, there is no place for him in Temple Gate.”

“He just needs a little more time!” Marta’s voice swayed. “I know his sins are great and numerous, but he is not a bad person.”

“More time? How much more do you ask for?” Knoth winced. “He’s been in this state for longer than would be possible without the Lord’s grace. I have offered him patience and grace so he may redeem himself, but he still turns his face from me, from God! None but He can save his soul now! It is the Lord who shall show mercy on the boy. For we have done all we can.”

“But he’s my friend,” Marta uttered.

Knoth rubbed his temple. “The enemy does not always come to us with its teeth gnashing and nostrils flared. Many times it wears the mask of goodness, only showing its true form when it is too late and all in its path has been devoured.”

“But—”

“Marta,” Though he spoke calmly, his face went a shade redder while guiding her to Otis. “Look at him. Do you think any man of faith and good sense would bring himself to this state? It is all of his own doing and if he lives on without correction, he becomes a plague to himself and to us. It will fester and infect all those who know him. Do not let this be what destroys all we have worked for, all we have suffered through. End it now. Give him peace and clear your conscience to see it done.”

She stared at Otis as Knoth spoke to her. His skin had gone white and chalky and bones nearly jut out. Hair that was once thick had gone scraggly and thin. His wheezing breath rang in Marta’s ears as she stepped towards him. When he was within an arm’s reach of her, she took out the knife that never left her since its gifting. She looked up slightly to avoid his clouded-over eyes as she raised the blade, her arm shaking.

“Marta, please.” Otis could barely speak above a whisper now. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to die. Not like this.”

Staggering back, Marta lowered the blade. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” Knoth’s voice dropped. “What in God’s name is holding you back?”

Marta turned her back to Knoth. “I can’t do it. This is all too much.”

“The Enemy does not think on what is too much or too little! Your sentiment is blinding you to the truth right before your eyes! You will find no peace until you fulfill your God-given duty! Do it! Not just for your town, but for your sake! Make the cut quick if you so wish, but purge us of this evil at our doorstep!”

Marta hunched over, retreating further into herself. “I need more time.”

“Time is not something we have.” Knoth gripped her arms. He looked up at her when she attempted to stare at the floor. “Marta, my dearest, do this for me. There is none other I can trust as you. I need you to do this.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Marta seethed, fists clenched.

“Excuse me?” Knoth stared as if he misheard her.

“You heard me. You do it.” She tore herself from his grasp and held out the knife to him. “You’re God’s holy man. Defend your town.”

“Marta, if you don’t silence yourself this instant—”

“Do it! Take the blade and save us from The Enemy!”

Knoth’s jaw dropped. “How dare you speak to me this way? After all I’ve done for you, all we’ve been through, and you have the audacity to shirk God’s duty.”

Marta reclaimed her weapon and stood straight, looming over Knoth. “I never wanted any of this! You’re the one who made me kill in your name! It was you who asked this of me!”

“I asked you in God’s stead!”

“Then go and tell God I need more time! How is that such a sin!? Why can’t you be patient with me when you won’t even do it yourself?!”

“You think I haven’t been patient with you?” He came forward. “I have been nothing but patient with you. I raised you as my own when they took your mother away. I gave you a childhood. I was even kind enough to wait for a sign before telling you of God’s plan!”

“That sign was an accident and you know it!”

“What I know of is God’s will for you, which you so callously deny!”

“It’s not God’s will I deny, it’s yours!”

Knoth’s face went red. “You speak heresy, child. My will is His will!”

“Then prove it! Lock me away and starve me like him!” She pointed to Otis, who never took his eyes from them. “Have God strike me down where I stand! Prove to me you are God’s chosen man! For I will not kill in vain!”

Marta waited for lightning to crash through the chapel and destroy her, but there was only a tight grip on her wrist. Knoth yanked hard enough to make her follow. “All these years I have spared the rod and spoiled the child. Mark my word, I will make that mistake no more. By the time I am through with you, never again will you question what I am to you.”

He hadn’t gone two steps before Marta pulled herself free. “Don’t touch me.”

“You insolent…” He reached for her again, but she shoved him with enough force to knock him off his feet. When he tried to get back up, the knife was pointed at his throat.

“Don’t you ever touch me.” She held the blade strong. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

Knoth paled as he held up his hands. Attempts to keep his voice steady proved in vain. “Now...now Marta, I know you’re upset. You’re...you’re confused and scared, and lashing out, but please, calm yourself and listen—”

“No! This time you’re going to listen to me!” She came so close that the tip of the blade met Knoth’s throat. “All my life I listened to you and it brought me nothing but grief! Don’t you realize everything I’ve done for you!? Everything I gave up!? I abandoned my own mother for you! I can barely remember her face, but I know she must have loved me because she wept when she was taken from me! Still, I chose you because I thought God’s love must be greater than any other! I did everything you asked and not once did I complain! Not when you brought us to the wilderness! Not when I starved for your sake! Not even when you drove me from people who cared until there was none left but you! Even when I doubted you, I followed your word! I read your gospel! I obeyed your teachings and I would have continued to do so! When I bled, I prepared myself to marry like every other woman, and to make your line a nation just like I was supposed to! I would have even married you if you had only asked! I waited and readied, yet you left me in the dark when all I ever wanted was to do right by you! Everything I did, everything I endured, all that I am is because of you, for you! There is no faith greater than that which I gave to you, yet you still ask me to prove it in blood! Why!? Why wasn’t all that I am already enough for you!?”

“Marta?” He had not spoken so softly since she was a child. She dropped the knife.

“I…” She could feel Knoth and Otis’s eyes on her. She watched Knoth rise to his feet, but when he reached out to her, she ran, leaving him and the blade behind.

#Marta #Sullivan Knoth #Otis #Outlast ocs #fanfiction #writing #Outlast #Outlast 2

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cheshiregrimmjow · 6 years

Text

Read until the end, it will make sense...

The Color of Redemption, A Story of Hope as told by a former Nazi

My name is Karl Loeffler. I was raised in the German countryside, the only child of a Protestant pastor named Wagner and his wife, Liesel. From the time I was young, I dreamed of escaping rural life and becoming a city boy. I craved the excitement of Berlin, and I was determined that when I was old enough, I would make it there, somehow.

In my early teenage years, I began reading literature and listening to radio broadcasts from an enigmatic man who was gaining popularity all across my country. A boy in my village introduced me to the patriotic message that this man brought, promising a better, brighter, and purer future for my country. I was enraptured, as so many other youth were, by his passionate orations and compelling words. So, at 19 years old, I joined the ranks of Hitler’s Youth.

My parents were vehemently opposed to my choice. They held very traditional views and refused to understand the obvious truth that people are not all equal. They even showed sympathy to the Jewish plague that was infesting our nation. I broke all ties with them, and instead poured my heart and soul and energy into my new family.

The war that was brewing for years finally erupted, and I joined the ranks of the military. Early on, I distinguished myself as having a talent for extracting information, so I was quickly assigned as an interrogator. At a turning point in my career, I proved my unswerving loyalty when I turned in my own father, who I knew to be harboring Jews, to the Gestapo. After that, I was granted the position of chief interrogator at a high security prison in East Germany.

One year later, a man arrived at that prison who would forever change my life. His name was Raymond King – as British a Brit as could ever be found. He was a pilot who had been shot down while delivering intelligence to his command. The letters with the precious information had been burned, but we had reason to believe that he had seen the contents before destroying them.

Right away, I knew this was a man who would not give up his information easily. Conventional means of interrogation would not work on him. I could tell from the defiant look in his eyes that no amount of physical duress would compel him to give up what he knew. I probed him a bit with some psychological techniques, but without much luck. There was something about him that intrigued me. His flinty eyes held a steady strength in them that I couldn’t help but admire. I decided to try an approach that I had never before employed. I determined that I would befriend this man.

As with all good relationships, one must give in order to receive. I found myself telling Raymond things about myself, many things. They were all true, for he was clever enough to see through a deception. In time, his animosity toward me lessened, and eventually we began to discourse more as equals than as enemies. He knew that I was working him, but I was determined to play the long game out with him, and win him over.

He shared with me his own history – how he had been orphaned as a young boy and raised in and out of group homes growing up. He had finally been taken in by the Church, and was given a good education when it became apparent he was something of a prodigy, despite having sporadic schooling as a boy. He was drafted out of college and joined the Royal Air Force at 17 years old - their youngest pilot. I couldn’t help but be a little impressed by his story – though I suspected some of it had been embellished.

Raymond began to delve deeper into my own story, asking me questions about my faith growing up, and why I had chosen Hitler instead of God. I tried to make him understand the wisdom behind what we were trying to accomplish, that communism was the only good future for the world – but I am not a gifted speaker, and for all his intelligence, he had the stubbornness of a mule.

The first time he tried to escape, I caught him and turned him in. He was beaten and left in the cooler for seven days. It didn’t deter him in the least. He kept trying to get away and he kept failing, and I found myself looking the other way when I knew he was attempting another run for the fence.

I don’t know when it happened – it crept up on me so slowly – but at some point I ceased to become an enemy playing the part of a friend to gain knowledge, and simply became his friend. Soon after, I received word that my father had been executed in a concentration camp not fifty miles from where I was assigned. The news split my soul to the bone. For the first time, I truly questioned the cost of my ideals. I was responsible for his death; I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.

I found myself confiding not in my Nazi comrades, but in Raymond. His initial response at learning my part in the deed was anger, for which I could not blame him. But he did not stop talking to me. On the contrary, he spoke to me more and more often, speaking of forgiveness and redemption. At first, I did not think that I needed redemption. Yes, I had something very wrong, but I had done it for a good cause. But the more I tried to justify it to myself, the more I realized I was on a slippery slope straight to hell and I had only myself to blame for it.

Time passed and I became increasingly torn and agitated. I felt as much a prisoner as Raymond truly was. I was imprisoned by my choices. I was imprisoned by my sins. I was imprisoned by my guilt. I could not escape the torment that gnawed at my soul day and night. I could no longer perform my duties as I had before. My superiors began to watch me closely, and I could sense that I was no longer considered an ally to my own kind. And through it all, Raymond was there, calling me back to the faith of my childhood and caring for me as a person, despite my sins and the fact that we were still enemies.

One frigid December morning in 1944, I told Raymond that I wanted to escape with him to Britain. I can still remember the look on his face. He wasn’t surprised in the least – it was as if he had been expecting this for some time. It took several months of preparations, but eventually our opportunity presented itself and we escaped the prison. We managed to sneak out of Germany via France, where Raymond was reunited with his countryman. For my decision to defect from the Nazis, and for aiding in Raymond’s escape, I was granted citizenship in Britain. Due to the injuries sustained when he was shot down, Raymond was medically discharged from the RAF, and I found myself in a new country and a new home.

I wish I could say that it was a happily ever after from there on – but that was not the case. As a German, I was treated with disdain and distrust by many. Very few knew I had been a Nazi, but it made little difference. Beyond that, I was eaten up with guilt and self-loathing for the actions that I committed in the name of Hitler’s ambitions. Let alone the fact that I was responsible for my father’s death, the information that I had extracted from many people (German and foreign alike) had led to the deaths of countless Jews and any of those who harbored them. Military intelligence that I had ferreted out had led to the deaths of many more. I was a murderer. I was a bigot. By my own hand I had executed prisoners and by my work had gotten many more killed. The darkest part in my life was not when I was in the midst of my greatest sins, but after, when I understood the full weight and consequences of my actions.

But through it all, Raymond King never left my side. He opened his home and his heart to me. He stayed by my side and defended me before all who scorned me, even at the cost of his own reputation. He unashamedly held me in the night when my nightmares woke us both from slumber. He comforted me when I discovered that my mother had passed away, before I could find her and tell her how sorry I was. He reminded me of the faith my father had taught me. Jesus had died for my sins – even my sins – and forgiveness and redemption lay at His feet. I repented. I accepted that God could forgive me. I even accepted that Raymond could forgive me. And last of all, with the help of my truest friend whom I loved more than myself, I finally forgave Karl Loeffler.

I’ll never forget the words that Ray spoke to me that one morning as we shared a boring British breakfast in our little London flat.

“Nothing will ever change what you’ve done, Karl. Nothing will ever make up for it. You deserve to die for what you’ve done.”

And as I contemplated where he could possibly be going with this positive and inspirational speech, he continued.

“Living. That’s harder than dying. It’s braver. Facing each day and deciding that instead of brushing off who you were or ignoring what you did, you acknowledge it. You accept who you were and you decide who you will be today, and the next day, and the next.”

I just stared at him for a while. His words struck a chord with me and I never forgot them. Ray helped teach me many things over the years – like how to exchange my bitterness for compassion to all people, my pride and supremacy for humility, and my brokenness for hope. Jesus saved me, but Ray pointed the way to Him with his patience and kindness. Ray showed me that the only way to live life to the fullest was to save what you love instead of fighting what you hate.

Redemption is dark, muddy, and messy. It’s red with the blood of those who paid its price in your stead. It’s gray, when the darkness of your past begins to lift from your soul like a stain. It’s the brightest, purest white, when you find that salvation doesn’t come through punishment, but through abundant life lived for the love of all people.

* * *

The story above is a work of fiction. Karl and Ray are fictional characters, though some of their experiences are based on the lives of actual historical figures. I want to pose the readers who stuck with my story to the end a question:

At the end of the story, did you find yourself feeling a) satisfied and glad that Karl was able to find forgiveness and love with Ray or b) angry that Karl did not die the irredeemable bastard that he was?

If the latter, please feel free to disregard the rest of this post and I apologize for wasting your time. If the former, you may now better understand the part of the Star Wars fandom who approves of the relationship between Rey and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. My story was meant to pattern itself after the progression of the Star Wars sequel trilogy. Obviously, we do not know how the third movie will end, but many of us hope it will end similarly to the third act of my story. Those who ship Reylo do so because we are looking forward to that third act, not stopping at the first or second.

In the first act of my story, Karl and Ray are enemies. Karl interrogates Ray using several methods to try and discover what he knows. While they are on opposite sides, and Karl is employing interrogation techniques that would be labeled as “abuse” in a domestic setting, Karl also has a begrudging respect for his prisoner. The Force Awakens.

In the second act, Karl finds himself beginning to genuinely like Ray. Though he thwarts Ray’s initial attempts at escape, he eventually finds himself looking the other way. Finally, Karl’s attitude truly begins to change and he dares to believe that he can change. Ray, likewise, begins to realize that Karl is a person in need of forgiveness. The Last Jedi.

In the third act, Karl makes the decision to join Ray. This is what we hope to see in Episode IX. We want to see Ben escape the prison of the First Order and return to the light, just as Karl did. But we also acknowledge that this will not be easy to portray in one movie and it will take time to achieve.

My story has an epilogue. Karl escapes with Ray and they make it to Britain in the third act. But that is not the end. It is only the beginning of Karl’s journey. He had to completely cast off the hate and the lies that had governed his life as a Nazi. He had to change his thinking and his heart. He had to understand how evil he had been - to accept forgiveness and to eventually forgive himself for the lives he had ruined. Only then could he begin to move forward, loving others instead of hating them. Forgiveness and healing takes time, and we know that time is the greatest threat to us ever getting a “happy ending” for Ben Solo…because, quite frankly, it’s far easier to just kill him off, as Lucas did with Vader.

I could have ended it with Karl sacrificing himself for Ray to get behind enemy lines to the safety of his fellow countrymen. And that would be an acceptable, if not rather tragic ending to their tale. It wouldn’t be much of a kid’s story and most people would walk away feeling rather depressed. Is that how Episode IX will end? I surely hope not. It would be an okay ending. But Star Wars is traditionally a story of hope and redemption.

I surely hope that Han and Luke and Leia, our beloved characters of old, will not have died in vain, only to see the last Skywalker die a young man (as a hero or a villain). Nor would we want to see Rey forced to survive without her other half, the man who taught her that no one is ever truly gone and hope can be found in the unlikeliest of people. Whether they should end up as friends or lovers is up to you, and the answer is not necessary for it to be a beautiful story (which is why I left Karl and Ray’s relationship ambiguous). But I hope you can all understand why we want an ending where they both live.

Here’s to hoping Disney will do the brave thing, instead of the easy thing. Cheers.

#reylo #reylo fam #anti reylo #starwars #parallels #redemption arc #ben solo #kylo ren #rey

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miraimisu · 7 years

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These Stones We Skip | Cha̵̭̦̓͜pter̷̳͎̮͍̆ 1

◄ previous part ♣ next part ►

[Read at FF.net]

[Read at AO3.]

Summary: Uraraka, as a newcomer to the most powerful guild in this forsaken village, had not only one, two; but three responsibilities: grow stronger until she was able to pin the world down, untangle the mystery that her past was and survive under the eyes of a crowd that watched over her as night chased the sun’s tail, the charade going on and on until the thread… suddenly snaps.

Rating: T because of obvious reasons such as Bakugou and swearing children. And it’s an AU. Medieval AU.

Word count: it’s fucking long get over it ALREADYYYY

Author’s note: : I FEEL YOUR HEAAAAAAARTBEEEAAAT TO THE BEAT OF THE DRUMZ (8) Hi, y'all /kicked So sorry if this took so much but it's so damn hard to continue this story at a comfy pace with so much lore and stuff building up and having to construct some kacchako as well? I AM STRUGGLING? And a friend of mine told me this was novel-length like lmao she is right tho. I gotta reconsider my life choices. Fo now thanks to all kind people who leave reviews and stuff in this clusterfuck? I DON'T DESERVE IT? But omg thanks

Warnings: it’s long, it’s messy, OLD SCHOOL MIRAI :V It has them feels tho. Kinda. Tons of broshipping. And… some kacchako, finally?? maybe not idk

I’LL BE ALSO EDITING MINOR PLOTHOLES IF THERE ARE ANY HAHA SORRY LOVE YOU ALL BYE :D

“Mama?” the little chubby child tugged at the woman’s red jersey, pointing then across the little river. “Who are those people?”

The pink woman followed the child’s finger to the land on the other side, and squatted to secure an arm around the girl’s petite figure. “Those people are dangerous, honey.” the girl blinked at the older woman, doubt dancing in her big pristine pools. “Don’t you ever go near them, or they will do nasty things to your little cute body.”

The pink woman tickled her tummy for emphasis, which made the girl squirm in her hold. The laughter didn’t last for long. “But mama, I don’t understand! Why are they dangerous? They don’t look so menacing.”

She shook her head at the child and pointed at them. There were some adults working as guards across the river, meters away from the pair. “They don’t like us, and they want to invade our land, your land. They wish to destroy our home because they are greedy.”

“Gweedy?” a finger scratched her cheek, and the woman nodded. The little girl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “They want to kill us? They want to kill this village?”

The elderly woman got up again, hands ruffling her hair with tenderness. “I don’t know, but just be careful. They are a dangerous species– they are humans, thirsty for blood and lands.��

“Humans?” the woman nodded above, and the brunette looked up. Sunshine covered the mother’s face, but the little girl knew those soft factions nonetheless. “But Harold and I… see?” she rose her hands, grinning toothily. “We have the same skin!”

The woman sighed. “I know, darling.”

“Then, why can’t we all be friends, mama?”

Mother looked far ahead, frown crowning her kind eyes as her hands grew frantic around her child’s head. “It’s more complicated than being friends or not, Nameless.” her finger shot to point at a boy working on the river. His hair was golden, reflecting the sunshine of a clear day, and it made the child’s eyes gleam in delight. “See that boy there? He is a beast, an assassin.”

“But Hawold and I–“

The woman’s hand slapped the child’s head in frustration, aware of the implications of such obvious fact as the skin color, the white of their eyes and the very same absence of horns. “I know, you are similar. But you will never be one of them, honey. You are not a monster like they are.”

The mother gave her hair a last ruffle before smiling softly at the girl under her, who was looking at the boy in wonder. “Why would he want to kill me?”

The mother sighed and started to walk away, throwing a glance behind her to check that the little girl was still in place. “Same skin color doesn’t determine one’s intentions, honey. Just stay there until your friends come here.”

Mother left the second afterwards, the little girl sitting on the muddy grass as the contemplated the thought. A whirlwind of newfound doubt, curiosity and wonder swam freely around her eyes, corseting her heart into a tight grip of anticipation and excitement. Her heart beat out of cadence, skyrocketing high above and exploding into a mixture of deep expectations, wondering how that boy’s voice would sound like, or how his skin would feel. Would his body be as warm as hers, or would his eyes float against hers like Harold’s did?

The girl got up, stumbled a little and brushed some dirt off her yellow dress. Gee boosted her energy and encouraged her to take a leap of faith and start running– running towards the land filled with warm golden night from the sun, bathed in blues and whites with silver creaking against her eyes like a jewel, and the boy’s pale skin coming to view the more she ran to him. Sounds of steel clanking against wood and iron twinkled around her, symphonies of sweat and grunts compassing the hush.

Her dainty feet reached the river, and the waters seemed darker than what they had looked like a minute ago. She tiptoed, human boy not noticing her presence as she smiled at him. There were some guards around that only acknowledged her presence inwardly and continued their game of minding their own business.

“Hi, excuse me?” the boy didn’t even flinch at her calling, focused on molding the iron. He couldn’t be much older than her, maybe 11 years old or so, but his hands were bruised as if he had been working for a century, marred in blisters and dry blood. “Hello, blonde boy!”

The boy grumpily turned to look across the border, expecting to find a brainless pink alien he would have to behead and seeing a waving stupid girl in its stead. “Oi, what is your problem, cheeks? I am busy!”

“Hello, blonde boy!” she waved even more excitedly, water crashing below her feet as her feet grew closer to the edge. He only huffed grumpily and went on working. “Excuse me! There is something I need to ask you!”

“What in the world is your problem?” his hands were constricted in fists, eyes shadowed by his untamed mane of golden streaks. He was somewhat pretty to her. “I am busy!”

“Well–!” she almost tripped and fell over, squealing for a second before recomposing herself while messing with her head, anxiety for this boy’s mood crippling under her skin. “There is something I need to ask you!”

“I don’t care about your stupid problems! Besides, you can’t cross and I can’t hear your girly voice from over here.” his voice was also pitched, but gave hints of growth and it would undoubtedly become rich and deep in the future. “Who in the world are you anyway?”

Nameless had a quick solution for that. The girl touched her shoulder and leaped over the edge, floating for a pair of meters before touching ground. Guards around her started to point their spears at her, startled by the careless display. The blonde boy was scared shitless, having scrambled off his stool and standing a good pair of meters away from the floating alien. The brunette started to flail her arms around, panicking as her mother’s words ringed again in her mind.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause such ruckus!” she took a tentative step towards the boy, only to have him recoiling. “I just didn’t think I would have made it across in a single jump, and skipping rocks would have been too slippery and risky–“

Golden boy pointed at her, words struggling to get out of his idle vocal chords. “You breaking your neck while crossing would have been much better than this witchcraft you have going on!”

The guards only pointed at her with more intensity, armors clanking and drawing the attention of other humans who looked at the scene with concern. “No, please! I don’t mean harm to this village! I just desired to ask this boy a question!”

“And why did you have to be so adamant about it, crazy girl?” the boy grit his teeth at her, fists clenched and his body rigid, tense, ready in case that witch decided to pick up a fight. “You are just another alien– but you guys are mutating fast so we can’t tell you apart and–“

“I am so sorry, I don’t mean to be an intruder here!” her hands clasped the hem of her little yellow dress, shining like sunflowers in pure bloom. “Please, allow me a second of this boy’s time, I’ll run away like the wind after that!”

People lost interest over seeing her so docile and carried on with their daily duties. Meanwhile, the boy snarled at her, shifting to grab his little shaping hammer in case she decided to get feisty and start throwing punches at him. “Be quick or I’ll smash your useless species to smithereens.”

His eyes flickered in fire against hers, a rush of trepidation washing over her as hell, blood and dangerous lights started shining through his bleeding eyes, pale skin contrasting with the dark intentions his impure heart held. Her question suddenly seemed useless seeing a human like this, so bare and bone think, but she still blurted it out.

“Are you–“ her eyes pounded against his very own bonfires, beaming with intention and silly curiosity. “Are you a monster, golden boy? Would you kill me if I were to hug you, ride you like I ride horsey Harold, or if we had fun bathing in the river?”

His brows wrinkled in disgust as such blunt, stupid question, but he was taken aback by how much honesty and sheer wonder she had poured in a short amount of time. To her credit, she had shoved a ton of bullshit in very little time. “Why in the world would I– no, why would I not kill an alien like you, cheeks? Get outta my sight before I shred you to pieces!”

“But–“

“You said you wouldn’t put a fight after this, we have pardoned you enough minutes.” he gripped the handle of his hammer harder this time, an alarming amount of teeth showing. Regardless, he didn’t step to behead her or even made a move to harm her, instead decided to start waving her off the land. “Do your sparkly stuff and leap over, I don’t care. Just leave this place.”

Nameless stared at the boy, heartbroken as he only stared back with a stern glare that warned her to leave before somebody saw her and decided to make the dirty job of torturing her in a dark chamber– somewhere even he knew she didn’t belong to. In a way, he was making her a favor. The doe-eyed girl nodded and turned around, activating her ability and jumping across, a fog of sadness clouding over her heart as the boy only stared in wonder, seeing her fly away so gloomy when she had come to him as a bright, beautiful flower. He decided to hammer those thoughts away, and the girl was soon forgotten.

When Uraraka came to, the smell of burning wood greeted her sleepy senses, heart swarming near her fingertips as the bonfire crippled upon the lodges of stacked wood, flickering and waving under the mercy of the night breezes. The little sorcerer fluttered her eyelids open as the flames greeted her unfocused eyes. Blurs of oranges, yellows and greens melted together and then sharpened to give shape to the forest, the bonfires and a very sleepy Kaminari struggling to keep his eyes awake.

The girl shifted underneath the spare blankets and, when she didn’t feel Asui’s body sleeping next to hers, an unsettling feeling came to open her eyes and slap her dazed mind awake. However, when she heard the rustle of leaves and clanking somewhere near her, those thoughts of alarm slowed her frantic sowing of irrationalities and she dared look up to see a little cauldron heating up something nasty, which prompted Uraraka to sit up.

“Good evening, Uraraka.” Asui peeked from behind the big pot to smile at her with kindness. “I see you have woken up. You sure have light sleep.”

The brunette rubbed her big gooey eyes to open, but they were tired and half lidded regardless her restless heart. “You can say that again.”

The sorcerer removed the blanket from her form and straightened her back, eliciting a pleased little moan from her sore throat. Uraraka had never really slept on the ground before– well, excepting that time she woke up mindless and brainless under a curtain of rain with a wound on her ribs, but it was a completely different kind of ground with some squishiness to it, wet and muddy. This ground was hard, dry, had stones sticking up from the sandy surface and there was always this irrational fear of ants tangling on her hair. Yes, that was petty, but she would have to get used to such hard conditions.

The girl glanced around swiftly, and found out that most people were asleep around the clearing. Iida and Tokoyami were asleep against a trunk between its big roots, swords resting right beside them. Kaminari was all alone though, making Uraraka kind of worry about where Bakugou could have scrambled off to.

“Bakugou is off for some herbs.” she continued stirring the mixture as if nothing, but the sorcerer still almost snapped her head to look at Asui. That girl was perceptive. “No need to worry so much. Don’t cry me a river.”

“Huh?” a weak grimace made her nose wrinkle in distaste, but she couldn’t deny that it was offsetting to see him off this late in the night. “I am not worried. I am just concerned. He is our leader and he’s gone so late in the night. What a freaking weirdo.”

Uraraka huffed in exasperation, eyes stealing a glance at the vacant place beside Kaminari. She didn’t let her mind wander any further and got up with weak limbs, hands dangling by her side– there was no way that stupid narcissistic sociopath would even burden her sleep with his absence, with the possibility of him being in danger.

Why the fuck would he even be in danger? He was perfectly able, be it in the dead of the night or in the middle of a maze. Her teeth grinded against each other, jaw clenched– because this petty tiny concern was useless, unneeded, unrequited, he would never hold her in any higher regard as she would possibly do– yet, a part of her seemed to hold some care for the boy. And it drove her off a damn cliff usually, because it was a tiring game of chasing in circles, never stopping.

Uraraka sighed tiredly, crumbles of sleep issuing from her throat. Despite the obvious fact that Bakugou would never get along with her, she found herself caring for his despicable self regardless– he was her leader, another peer that, she had been advised to stay far from. Yet, she couldn’t find the heart to give up on him to such extent. He had defended her back there at the village, had kind of had faith in her against Shinsou…

There was some hope for him…

Perhaps.

“You like sleeping, I see. I don’t like being woken up, either.” the herbalist made an attempt to change topics, which Uraraka was thankful for. She got up from the makeshift bed and walked to the pharmacist. “While the others sleep, I take time during nights to prepare the potions for the next day, while somebody stronger keeps guard.”

Uraraka eyed the girl tenderly, a little soft smile sketching itself on her face. She was not as familiar as she was with other people like Jack or Mina, but she was attracted to her regardless. “I don’t think you are that weak. You sure would put up a great fight, Asui.”

The water sorcerer looked at Uraraka, not impressed by the dash of fresh warm air the other carried with her, but still a little bit touched by her kindness. “It’s not like I undermine myself, but it’s just for safety measures. Don’t want an ambush coming to kick our healer’s ass– Bakugou’s words.”

Uraraka looked at the pot afterwards, glaring at the nasty looking brewage. “And what is this you are preparing?”

The colors inside the pot blended, bubbled and brewed in an aromatic mist that Uraraka couldn’t really identify, but it smelled like something akin to mind and chocolate mixed together. She tiptoed forward and smelled a little bit of the brewage. Again, it was minty, hot, and had that sweet undertone to it.

“It’s a dipping poison.” Asui stirred a bit faster this time, changing directions. The other girl looked at the water sorcerer and nodded with interest. Asui being there with her group would be a huge advantage, as Uraraka could learn lots from her and pharmacy was always a handy science to nurture from.

“Dipping?” nod, nod, and Uraraka only looked at the colorful mixture in even deeper wonder. A part of her wanted to put her finger in– but it looked scorching hot and her skin was easy to scar and blister. “Is this some kind of poison to use in food?”

The green-haired girl shook her head, not looking at Uraraka and instead rummaging through her bag. Her hands came out empty, so she signaled the other sorcerer to fetch her some spare ones in a flask on the ground. The frog girl couldn’t reach down for the items below the cauldron as she was quite small and she had to stand on an actual big stone to reach the top of the pot, so Uraraka would have to serve as a temporal assistant. When she had the herbs, Asui poured them contently into the mixture, and stirred slowly.

“You dip weapons here, and give temporary poisonous properties to them.” Uraraka nodded again, eyes glinting in curiosity and surprise. It was a pretty handy technique for making weapons be even more lethal than they already were, and it seemed like a very intelligent way of rendering any single threatening object as a needle useful and mortal. “Bakugou wanted me to give his sword a coat of poison in case we have a harsh encounter tomorrow.”

The girl frowned at the prospect. “I see.” she peeked over the edge of the iron container and gawked at how it was turning darker and darker the more Asui stirred. “You must know very well what you are doing when it comes it these things, yes?”

Asui removed the wooden spoon from the cauldron – it had big stains and it was broken in a few places, marred in scars of hurried preparations – and jumped off the stone. “It is a risky process. But it’s not that much of a difficult science.”

She then marched off to a bag she had near her and Uraraka’s blanket, getting some jars full of some kind of pebbles no one but Asui knew about, and threw a handful of them from below, not even caring to look in afterwards. When the alchemist left again, the brunette lifted her hands to fidget with her gloves, afraid of burdening Asui with her request.

“I was wondering…” Asui didn’t stop her task to even show a sign that she had listened, but the newcomer still talked. “if you could show me some advanced pharmacy when we reach our next stop, or maybe along the way?”

The girl did turn to her now, finger on her chin. “Yes, we did talk about this.” it seemed more like a murmur of ponderation and not a proper answer, so Uraraka waited with her fists clenched. She didn’t really have much idea on how to interact with some members of the guild, so she just would go with the flow most times. “I guess I can show you some techniques you can use at emergencies. I don’t have quality equipment here to show you much more.”

Uraraka showed a dashing smile, eyes twinkling in delight as Asui gathered their blanket and settled it on the ground. The other girl was quick to sit down on her knees, legs together with her fists resting on her lap, head slightly bowed– and the pharmacist was a bit taken aback by how willing and docile the sorcerer looked under her. A part of Asui believed that if she asked her to go to the end of the world for a single useless flower, Uraraka would go there if it meant making her happy.

God, how could have Bakugou mistaken her for a villain?

“No need to be so stiff, Uraraka.” the girl didn’t lessen the posture either way, and continued looking at her straightly and determined, serious and collected when she was squirming in excitement and gee for this little lesson. “It’s just a few tips to improve potions, curas and the like. I take it you can only prepare minimal brewages now.”

“Er, yes.” the brunette titled her head in defeat, a bit ashamed to admit that she knew very little for a being a sorcerer. “All potions I have with me were there when I woke up at the forest. Some were a bit more advanced if I recall… but most were basic.”

“It’s fine, you can learn a bit now.” Asui took out some leaves and little fruits. Some sterolias rolled off her little purse, and Uraraka reached out to fetch one. Indeed, it was as sweet as Mina had mentioned it to be. She accordingly spit it out again. It would never not repel her with such invasive sweetness. “Hold on while I sort this out. I didn’t have time to organize my tools properly.”

“It’s fine.” the sorcerer waved it off with a kind smile, and looked around for a bit. Everyone was sleeping soundly, tired from the journey and beaten up after having to put up with Bakugou grumping about how unhelpful Grinning Blade had been, and Uraraka could recall how guilt had been crippling inside of her as she shut up about the ordeal with that man, that guy who had looked at her so intensely and whispered such cruel, fateful words.

Her fingers tightened the fist. Death… they unclenched, relaxed, and the brunette looked at her bruised palms in deep concern and wonder. What did he mean with all that? And why had Shinsou… opened up so fast? What dark business did they have that somehow involved her, of all people?

Something foggy and dark was stirring in a corner of her mind, blending behind the broken shards of a frosted mirror, her future identity and all that carried behind that somehow bringing a chill down her spine– but she couldn’t touch it. The thought was bubbling, bruising, even. In the back of her mind, that man’s words had caused an unpredictable damage that wasn’t palpable, yet it was there, lurking behind the shadows she tried to look through, yet she couldn’t tell apart from mere paranoia and mild fear for what was to come.

A part of her wanted– needed to blame Bakugou for causing her such unnecessary ruckus inside her mind. The way he had spoken so highly and shaken about RampAge had her all kinds of shaken up. He was gone now, doing who knows what in who knows where, probably punching some butterflies off their caskets like the douchebag he was. Perhaps life was having a party on his body and he was being punished, hurt and that was why he hadn’t come back, and an unnoticeable spine run down her stomach and pushed down, down–

Her eyes darted across the clearing and stopped at the empty slot by Kaminari, wondering, again, why she was so uneasy at the thought of him being suspiciously gone so late in the night, why this care did actually exist. It could probably be because he had actually defended her from Shinsou and the whole village before this voyage had begun, but it was such a weird feeling to possess when he was all but kind to her. Why was she worrying so much when he was no more than some kind of vigilant for her?

What a nuisance, a little unneeded feeling. It sure would be a good riddance once she was out of this tired, critical state. A part of her wanted to get rid of it… yet another part of her knew there was no letting go.

“Tell me, Asui,” words fell off her mouth helplessly, not even thinking about what repercussion they’d have, or what Asui would think of her. It was a pretty bad habit of hers. Her eyes left the wrinkled blanket that was his red cape and looked at the one below their knees. “does Bakugou have that much trouble sleeping?”

It took a few seconds for Asui to answer. “It’s always been like this, really. I don’t see him much often, but Kirishima told me it’s been this way ever since he was a child. He can’t sleep until deep into the night. He runs on little sleep, though – tough guy, he is.”

Uraraka tasted those words wistfully, tapping her fingers on her lap. Bakugou didn’t really seem to have such problem, skin always pristine and devoid of rings or bags – but now that she recalled, he had mentioned he knew it took him too much time to sleep. Judging by his foul mood, he probably never got good sleep either. Was the bed too big for him? Or maybe he just got into heated arguments with the pillows? Apparently, the only way to ease this issue was going up the clock tower to either spend a peaceful night in solitude stargazing or being tortured with her presence.

Maybe he was gone for so long because he found that maybe solitude would prompt the so needed rest. It made her feel some pity for him in a sick, twisted way.

“Pay attention, Uraraka.” this snapped the sorcerer out of her reverie, blinking heavily. “Making a novice cura is easy, but making a successful extra one takes some practice. Making one mistake on the process is normal, and it won’t be a catastrophe to ruin the ingredients, but you can’t go relying on luck for further practices.”

Asui took a green, heart shaped leaf, and started to tear off its midrib with her teeth. “This is rough hand work, and if I had pincers, I would be much more classy and neat. One has to take the midrib off these leaves. These are called looibus, and are pretty cheap in an average shop. It’s always more economic to buy these instead of the prepared potions.”

Uraraka observed Asui remove the mid sections easily, and blinked in amazement. She had never seen such display in her life, her lips pinching the leaf and teeth tearing the section apart. “How can you do it so easily, though?”

“The veins of this species are especially thin at their starts.” she took a spotless specimen and pointed at the mid section, tracing it with her finger. She had a cut on a side of her index, Uraraka noticed. “See how the veins are almost unnoticeable? It makes the process much easier. I usually act precautious and use pincers and gloves, but this will suffice for the time being.”

Then, her fingers pinched the petiole of the leaf. “Good fetched herbs must always have their petioles, and if possible, a part of the branch they come from – just a minimal part, to extract the whole juice of the plant. How big the petiole is determines how much properties one can extract from it, therefore determines its final value.”

“Was that why you complimented Kaminari the only day?”

“Not really, ribbit.” she started to squeeze the petioles, also draining some from the midribs. Gooey, red liquids cascaded down into the flask. “The specimen he brought to me is special because of its spores. Those kinds of herbs have other value standards, and are hard to find. As for fruits, they depend on how squishy and intense they are in color.”

The sorcerer took a little sterolia from nearby and inspected it. She gave it a little squeeze, and the tiny fruit, not bigger than a raspberry, melded a bit. It was scarlet red, darker splashes coloring some parts. “Does that mean sterolias are sweeter, then? You never mentioned any property other than its taste.”

“Sterolias are used to dim the bitter taste of curas, but one can’t go around eating them like Mina does. They are horrifyingly sugary and can give one a bad stomach ache if eaten in grand amounts.”

Asui uncorked the green part of the little fruit and squeezed it. A teensy drop of yellow splashed on the other ointment. “May seem like a very small amount, but the potion won’t be very grand.” then, the sorcerer pointed at a jar near the cauldron, sitting next to Uraraka. “Pour some of that water in here. It’s fresh from a nearby river.”

Uraraka gingerly took the glass recipient and slowly put the water in. “Got’cha.” she was maybe a little bit too slow. The water made an agonizing dripping sound as it fell, and the other liquids started blending with the transparent water.

When the flask was full to a quarter, Asui put a hand on her shoulder. “There, that’s enough.” the brunette put the water away. “No need to be so delicate, though. You can be all harsh you wanna. Speed won’t affect the quality of the cura.”

The brunette scratched her rosy cheek with a bit of shame, grin trembling in shyness. She was trying to be as careful as ever, not wanting to let Asui see how nervous she really was about learning so many new things, and being a good pupil. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s ok. Now, stir this a little bit.” the sorcerer started mixing the liquids together until the red and transparent yellow blended and created thick, red substance. “As you see, you would need more leaves for a proper potion, but this will be enough for now. Looibus have high pigmented elements and nutrients, so very few leaves can do wonderful things.”

Uraraka took the little flask and did what human nature instructed her to: sniff the hell out of it. It smacked her nostrils with protruding sweetness and some acid undertones to it. If she had to guess, she’d say it would taste like cherries and lemon. “Smells rather nice. How much damage would this cover?”

Asui looked at the flask and then up to the awaiting girl, who held the potion with dainty hands and delicate touch, as if it was a treasure. “I’d say only minimal wounds, and not very fast. Kirishima told me you gave him and Tokoyami a pair of those during the battle with Pyrox.”

“Ah, I did.” the memory of Tokoyami and Kirishima sitting down in such bad state had Uraraka trembling for a second there. “I see it wasn’t that much of a big help.”

Asui sighed, shaking her head. “Not much, but it’s intention what counts. They could go home in a better state thanks to you.” this information made Uraraka’s heart swimming in pleasant warmth. “Either way, I will give you a little secret for better potions. It’s very silly… but it actually works.” she pointed at her bag as she drank a little bit of the point. “It’s part of what got me in this guild. Give me the little blue spines in a purple jar.”

The brunette undid the covering with deft fingers and ever so carefully took out a single needle. “There we go.” Uraraka was scared to the bone, chilled in goosebumps as Asui unfazed pinched her finger. Hard. “Don’t freak out, I’m not gonna die.”

“What the hell, Asui?” the water sorcerer licked a bit of the blood, nodded and dripped some of it on the potion below. Just some droplets. “Are you actually telling me–“

“I one day discovered that looibus has an actual toxin that stimulates blood creation in the blood stream. I once thought about what would happen if one added blood into the mixture, healthy blood.” Asui stirred the mixture languidly, and dedicated Uraraka a sideways glance. The aforementioned was busy having a seizure near the cauldron, shaking in utter despair. “What’s wrong? Are you really so peachy over seeing a bit of blood?”

“T-That’s not it at all!” then, the brunette pointed at her with an accusing finger that Asui paid no heed to. The brewage turned darker and darker. “It’s just insane to see you so content with bleeding and stuff for the sake of a little cura!”

“This isn’t a little one, you see.”

As a demonstration, the herbalist poured some of it on one of her many cuts of her hand, probably done during harvesting these very herbs. The cut started closing slowly, like a flower blooming inwards, and it was gone in a minute. “My blood is specially pure and healthy. Blood is thought to be replenishing for hard travels, a reason why most of us eat meat scarcely cooked.”

This had Uraraka even more afraid of the stoic herbalist, who was talking about drinking blood as if she was some kind of– “What the hell? Are you suggesting that even drinking human blood is alright?”

Asui looked at her with a slight exasperated glint in her eyes, but it didn’t show much. It seemed like that woman enjoyed keeping herself to herself in the weirdest of ways. “Sorry if it sounds weird, but it’s more of a little belief than solid science. It is true that blood boosts potions, though.”

Uraraka gazed at the still pouring blood, and saw it mix with the cura in little spurs of red claws, blending with the crimson red to make it powerful, an ingredient to save a life with the mere sacrifice of a droplet of human blood. A part of her heart trashed wildly inside her ribcage, the wise and troublesome words Asui had said so casually falling into a void of endless information, lore and extreme complications that would one day save her life– she just couldn’t see it right now, but Uraraka was sure she would find it useful one day.

She didn’t know why, but this lesson was extremely important to her. Yes, it was mildly creepy and offsetting, but she couldn’t help but feel thrilled to know a way to save someone’s life so easily, or at least prevent such occurrence. She entwined her fingers with an easy smile, watching the herbalist dump the potion into her bag. “I had a little stupid question.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” she looked at the ingredients spread on the blanket before the other girl started packing them into her bag. “I was wondering, would the effect be the same if one sucked the liquid straight from the loibuus if one can handle the bitter flavor?”

Asui bit her thumb in thought, and Uraraka had the urge to mirror her doubts by biting her knuckles or messing with her hair. Actually, it was feeling awkwardly itchy. She started to absentmindedly scratch her nape. “Now that you mention it, I had never thought about it. It sure would come in handy.”

“Well, don’t–“

“Are you fucking telling me that sucking on leaves can actually do your job?” the gruff voice made them turn around, and they watched Bakugou’s muscles flex as he held some logs on his shoulder. He unceremoniously threw them into the fire and it started licking the wood with passion, his blood irises brightening. “What do we have you for?”

That bold statement would have affected anybody who didn’t know him, but none of the sorcerers flinched at his brusque, rude words. Uraraka eyed Asui, who eyed her back for a second before looking up at their leader. “To make sure you guys have decent weaponry and not sticks like Hatsume would make to you. She can’t stand you.”

Bakugou shoved a bag with ingredients to the herbalist’s chest, who inspected the paper fixing in caution. “Fair enough, I guess.” condoned the messy blonde to the pharmacist, who ran happily back to the cauldron now that the fires were at their fullest. When she was safely up on her stone again, Uraraka started to fold the blanket.

The hunter watched the sorcerer scramble to sort out their sleeping arrangement, and started patting her pillow. She stretched her arms, her shirt lifting a bit and exposing some of her soft, pale skin. When her mouth fell shut after a little yawn and her eyes blinked soreness away, he finally understood what she was up to.

And when she limmped on the makeshift bed, all he could do was rage about her blatantly ignoring his presence. “Oi, Uraraka! What the fuck’re you doing!”

The sorcerer turned under the blanket and started stirring a bit, eyes blinking to focus on the heaving leader a meter away from her disgustingly tired face. “Do I seem to be killing rabbits?”

“Well, that would at least be useful to the situation, you dumb–“ he shook his head, because snapping on her wouldn’t do for the situation. He had tried to ignore this obvious feeling of hatred he had for her– but sometimes, just sometimes, she made it a bit too difficult being so casual with him. “Whatever, just what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Uraraka turned under the thin blanket, her eyes facing the sky. Her words took some seconds to get out, his glare so focused on her that it was both amusing and somewhat intimidating, again, to see him so agitated. “I thought we had already stated that.”

Bakugou shook his head and proceeded to squat right next to her bed, hands gripping the fabric of his clay pants. Only now did Uraraka realize he wasn’t wearing his trademark cape and he suddenly looked so much more human and reachable like this.

“That’s not what I meant.” his contorted eyes landed on her stargazing ones, full of stars he would never even dare reach out for. It agitated him so much to see her so– just so pure and snarky at the same time. “Seeing the clusterfuck of problems we have around the problem, I can’t understand why you are trying to sleep it all off and not help somehow.”

That made her finally tear her relaxed gaze from the stars and finally pay attention to her fuming leader, who was seething over her and was either trying to scare the hell out of her or get her to move. None of them worked. “I was just taking some spare lessons from Asui for chemistry resources. Should I remind you of our encounter with Shinsou earlier today?”

Just out of nowhere, the working herbalist butted in. “Just so you guys know, the others are sleeping…”

Both warriors looked at her for a pair of seconds and dismissed her to continue bickering.

“Yeah, I do remember pretty damn well– and not because you did much anyway.”

It was now when the brunette squinted at him a little bit harder, eyes pointed in analysis as his posture was too scrunched, his cape forgotten in a bunch – something so odd from him, as she had taken him as a tidier individual – and his eyes racking around the embroiled ends of her blanket, his mind probably years and possibilities away from what mattered, from what was spinning around them as she stared intently at him. Her brow fell, and she found herself asking before she could bite it all back into place.

“What’s wrong?”

The blonde snapped from his trance immediately. His hands released the fabric of his pants and they slammed the dirt underneath, eyes widened in panic and accusation before she could even explain herself. “What the he–“

She clamped a hand over his mouth, and much to her surprise, he didn’t bite it off like he probably would have done before. Judging by his eyes though, he was probably dying to. “You are going to wake the others up, stop raging on me.” Uraraka hesitantly let her hand drop a little after she sensed he had calmed down, and he made her retreat with a hand to her wrist. He didn’t let go of it for security measures. “I am a member of Yuuei now. You have no other option but to regard me as such.”

She very sadly had the upper hand there. She could no longer be ignored or treated as the terrorist he was trying to believe she wasn’t, but the title was so fucking hard to get rid of after he had hung it on her for this long. Now that he noticed it, her looks weren’t those of a rogue criminal or a strong person altogether. Her cheeks were annoyingly rosy, eyes too big and hair too stupid. Again, she was so deceivingly naïve looking that it frustrated him and only added more to the fire.

He despised her. Bakugou couldn’t say he hated her anymore, because he was no fool and Uraraka wasn’t either. Her eyes weren’t those of a liar, but held kindness of an unbeaten person, slate clean purity in a brown splash of colors, gleaming to the fires of the camping. Her hands seemed to hold the keys to every untamed kingdom of his mind, yet he would never let her have the right locks to open all its rooms. His eyes shifted again, looking at his hands again.

Yeah – his hands clenched, admiring its scars, and closed it again with a grimace – he hated how he hadn’t been right about her being an impure bitch, but a part of him lay in joy seeing the investment would be worth it. The little titles of her head, the twinkle in her eyes, he would be there to see it all come true. It would take time for him to fully accept it, but he had to start taking steps.

It took him a little bit of resistance, but he ended up talking, shaky.

“There is a traitor in our midst.”

There was silence after that. Bakugou looked up to see her mouth agape, eyes big as saucers– but there was no trace of suspicion or anger, just shock and mild fear, or maybe curiosity? Her mind had toppled over the edge and fallen into an impossible abyss of mindless options, scattered pictures of her companions crowding her fall. The faces outnumbered her, scratched canvases of compatriots becoming traitors, and claws pulling her down where it was darker, faster.

Her body landed in solid reality, snapping back as the possibilities stopped spiraling around her– eyes settled on Bakugou, and this was the very first time that, underneath the soft stare of the stars and the moon, the leader had let anything akin to actual feelings show through that thick barrier of his, surrounded in spikes that not only separated people from him, but also the other way around.

He was a leader, another member, one that trusted his people with his stone, guarded heart. Knowing that there was a traitor in his surroundings must have him scared for once, feeling betrayed and having a knife pointed at his neck without knowing who the hand belonged to. The feeling was a bit alike with Uraraka, who regarded all her sleeping companions in a clouded scan.

It was then when the sorcerer realized that Asui had settled near her, and was tugging at the big blanket to cover herself as well. The girl gave the thingy up and shifted closer to Bakugou, who was sitting in front of her. This bad habit of being too near to people could get the best of her very easily, but this was the first time she intended to be a comforting presence to him.

After all, she had to take steps to normalization as well.

“How can you say this?”

The boy sighed, and rubbed his face with hardened hands. The brash leader was a far cry from this exhausted man, who was starting to see a mountain of problems coming to them with RampAge on the loose as well. Having a traitor among them, possibly in this very same camping where security was minimal– alarms were flaring inside of him, and it made him look ages older.

“Remember this afternoon, when we were almost ambushed by an archer?” the brunette nodded. Her hand had throbbed with intensity to protect the blonde in a primal instinct of sudden care, but the initial shake had very much worn off ever since. “The wood of the arrow was made with our guild’s material.”

This piece of data was incredibly accusatory, but the pieces were totally scrambled in Uraraka’s head. “But, maybe they simply use the very same types of–“

“No. Things ain’t that easy in our village.” the wood had burnt so nicely in his hands once he had been alone, so flammable and nice to combust. He knew the touch and feel of it very, very well. “Guilds have their own portion of forest to take resources for weapons from. Pillaging is a very different thing to this, but the Council would never let us have a whole forest for ourselves. Even I can tell that would be conceited and dumb as fuck.”

“So, you are saying that you know it because it’s wood from your forest?”

“Not exactly, as Grinning Blade has the very same kind of wood for their arrows and sticky blades.” of course he would talk about them as wimps when he had a fucking axe as playful toys to battle with. This man was gentle now, but he would have his claws out the moment this intimacy was torn apart. “Clock girl applies a material that helps the arrows burn fast, but that can preserve the arrow while burning, like a match. It’s a handy technique we use for ambushes at guild battles.”

Now that she thought about it, Mina’s hands did have ugly burns. She must be a really valued asset to their guild, as archers seemed awfully scarce as well. “Are you sure this is that much of a secret ointment?”

The ashen blonde nodded, a frown crowning his angular traits. He dragged his ass to a tree behind him and he rested his head on it, a bit far from the sorcerer now. Fire burnt not very much away, the clearing being small and the guild members resting far away from the other, yet close this time heart-wise.

“Frog girl there is who actually helped our blacksmith develop the resin.” oh, so he was talking about Hatsume, the overly excited girl at the support basement. Clock girl was… kind of a lame nickname for her, though. “I trust them enough to know they wouldn’t give this away, so I assume this fucker must have taken arrows from our headquarters.”

Rewinding back into daytime, it had been a shame sun had hidden this traitor in shadows, cloak and hands covered in blackness. Uraraka hadn’t thought much about this event in particular, had thought it was probably one of those illegal hunters making trouble again. Her hands started raking the back of her head, that thing she did all the time when she was nervous or anxious– yes, all the damn time, and everyone included Bakugou hated it.

“This is troublesome, then.” spoke she, matter o’ factly. Her eyes bore in his, worry shining through like water in a glass jar, so painfully obvious she cared for his guild that he snarled, feeling creeped out by her attachment. “If the traitor is with the others, they won’t be able to call us for help.”

He looked at her a bit more, then looked at the fires and secretly watched over his peers. The girl in front of him did the same. “I will be keeping guard in case somebody here decides to play hooky on my ass.” he spoke with such hate, burning ire and anxiety for his guild’s security rising into the air. “I won’t let that fucker get out of my eyes that easily.”

Uraraka observed him from the corner of her eyes, a sincere smile fighting its way into her tired cheeks. Her next words were as gentle as her smile, as her eyes. “You do care, after all.”

It was no more than a whisper, but he heard her anyway, ears trained to hear an ant jump from a leaf to another, and craned his eyes to her. Bakugou showed no sign of approval, but didn’t reject the statement, either. “I am a damn leader. It is my obligation to look after these wimps, because if I don’t, they will be rotten meat by the time we get to the village.”

That made her laugh, then do a double take and actually revise his pointed words. “It’s not like we can’t manage, you know. If you have won so many battles against Grinning Blade, you sure can be lethal. Jack’s words, not mine.”

The hunter turned to her, eyes indifferent but still tasting the pride in her words. In a sense, he was immensely proud of what they had all accomplished together, but his heart somehow didn’t want to take the conversation in that direction. “I never said you weren’t able– I sadly know you are perfectly able to fight anybody in your path.” she looked at him again, cautious for whatever he was going to spit now to ruin her. Surprisingly, he just didn’t. “Kaminari and Kirishima sure are, the same with Iida. I know you guys can actually fight back.”

Arched eyebrow at him. “So, you are actually complimenting us.”

Bakugou doomed her with that sadistic smile of his that sent her heart in a mad ride, but she couldn’t really explain why she still felt so intimidated while on the road to normalization. She would have to get rid of those petty fears if she wanted to meet his ground someday. “When I call you a terrorist, I mean it because you are a menace. It is an insult.”

Her eyes deadpanned in his, bored and waiting for him to go down the very same decaying road. “C’mon, finish me off.”

He squinted his eyes at her, head titled forward. The fires shadowed his eyes in an even harder glare. “What I mean is that now it seems like you can play the role we want you to. So you can try to see that as us knowing you are able.”

“So, you are admitting to me, right here and now, that you do aknowledge that I am strong.”

“Oi, don’t sass me, Uraraka.” the sorcerer giggled, and she crawled to rest against the tree by her makeshift bed right next to Bakugou, who only recoiled so she wouldn’t step over his boundaries. Her eyes climbed up to the starry ceiling above their heads, and found out that Bakugou was wistfully stargazing as well. “Relatively speaking, you are strong for a novice. But I can’t have you relying on brutal smacks that leave you as a leech right after. That will never do.”

Her voice was lost in the night sky, then closed her eyes to feel the dark breeze of the river neat them. “I guess you are right on that. I do wanna get stronger, you know.”

Bakugou looked at her with intensity. The orange lights of the fire lit up her eyes, but it wasn’t like she needed actual fire to shine, right? It was this weird feeling inside his chest of seeing something ever so scary inside of that petite body of hers, a feeling so enticing yet so mysterious as that face of hers seemed familiar– but it had terrified him and then made him leap to anger. She was the only one in this forsaken guild that could flip his switches.

And it threw them off even stronger when he saw that she never meant to trouble him, but she did anyway. Uraraka hadn’t meant to come across as a terrorist, as a menace, as his heart sworn enemy after Shinsou and Midoriya– yet, she hadn’t shrunk. She had sucked it all up and faced him in so many occasions, little by little, and had made her stand up against a fucking mob of people conspiring against her.

She hadn’t meant to step in here, but she had anyway and there she was, quiet as if her whole life hadn’t been turned upside down like his had been. Couldn’t she realize what a fucking nuisance she was, that he was bearing with a little too much to his liking?

Look at what she made him do, have to step out of his way to try and accept her. Disgusting. Yet he was doing it anyway, and it was starting to become easy not to hate her. And a part of him knew she was easier with it that she had once been. He didn’t really want to know what was going through her head, but he deemed it better to be like this.

But then her eyes drifted to his, and she grinned when he found him staring. Bakugou growled with disdain, making her giggle. Her eyes warmed slightly when he didn’t immediately threaten her like he would have, just swallowed it up. Yeah – both thought, eyes glancing up the stars – it was becoming easier to overcome such universal rules.

“How strong do you wanna get, though?” his words were hoarse in wonder, more spoken to himself than her, but it made her interrupt her internal schemes to regard him. His eyes moved to hers as well, red bleeding in pure chocolate. “I don’t know how ambitious you are power-wise, but I can assure you you ain’t becoming a professional powerhouse anytime soon.”

Uraraka hugged her knees, sighing. Her tone deflated slightly, her mind set off far ahead. “As much as I can. As much as I can take. As much as it requires so we can take down RampAge and fix the universe.” so there she went, speaking about such thing like it was a silly matter to the wind. “I will overcome myself, and never bow to an enemy again.”

Her eyebrow was knit in determination, no longer talking to Bakugou, but to herself. A part of him knew this was like some kind of mantra to her and that Uraraka had this tone that esteemed danger and threat in a thousand languages, but not a single cell of his body found the energy to complain despite this being a clear hazard to her. Honestly, at this stage, she could go throw herself off a cliff, he didn’t care much about it.

It may be because he was tired, but stepping from actively trying to kill her to simply not caring about it seemed like a great step to him. Better to not want her than want her dead, right? Irony would get him for that later on.

“Well, as long as you don’t cause me fucking trouble, it’s fine.” condemned the leader, but he had a feeling she wasn’t really listening. “Now go to sleep, it’s been enough talk for the night.”

“Mhm, agreed.” nodded she, still relishing in the glimmer of the fire near her, wood cracking under the moonlight. “We have stayed civil for too long, better to not drag any further.”

The blonde hunter growled at her after such remark, to which she could only laugh and sigh. She wasn’t stupid, and knew that deep inside, he was a bit afraid of moving on from that comfortable stage they had of hating each other recklessly and having swords drawn all the time– but she was starting to move on, which sadly didn’t mean he would move as fast as she would. The past was a long forgotten memory, but she could only wonder how much it’d take for him to let it go.

And the thought tired her so, so much.

Yeah – after a short glimpse at his eyes burning at the fires with passion and complexity, her head craned back to the fires too – she did care about him, after all.

“Papa, who are those people at the barrier?”

Nameless peaked from the border of the cauldron, pink hands coming to swat them away in fear she would burn herself. Bubbles floated from the recipient, pink hues delighting the girl before they burst in the air, and she laughed in senseless joy. “Ah, my child, no more than silly invaders.”

“Yes, that’s what mama told me… but I don’t understand. They seem docile and…” the face of the boy came into her mind, his rude and blonde behavior contrasting so much with those kind faces that had allowed her to cross the river, bland attitudes and some smiles thrown her way. “They even have the same skin as I and Harold do!”

“Harold?” she nodded, only to have her tutor crouch and ruffle her hair with his clawed hand. “Don’t you mean that red boy with the hard skin? Was it... Kirishima?” the girl’s eyes lit up, and her head bobbed again with a wide smile. “Well, yes. You do share some similarities, but the color of your skin doesn’t define who you are, darling.”

“But we are so similar!” Nameless outstretched her chubby hands, petite pads grazing his dad’s claws. “Look, papa, my hands are different! Yet, they are invasors and mama hates them? I don’t get it.”

The little brunette crossed her arms, cheeks puffed in disagreement. Whether they were invaders or not, they hadn’t tried to touch her despite being from another species, from another face of the incoming war– she was their enemy. But nobody had dared to touch her. Her dad could see a million thoughts running across her sensible mind, so he just shook his head in utter defeat.

“Some time ago, we took something from them– something very important.” that had her looking up, hands limp on her sides with the very same naïve look everyone knew her for. “Something that holds great power, something that belongs to us, and has always belonged to us. It’s the reason we are still alive now, they fear us. This land– this planet alone, it all belongs to us.”

Nameless continued looking up, brow knit in confusion. Her heart beat out of control, breath stale and staggering to keep her alive in the very same place she stood, and she wasn’t there anymore, backgrounds changing to a fuzzy rainy ghost town full of dead trees, where an orange house stood and a warm family lived. The drops of a far away rain hammered on her skin, and never left.

When her eyes looked up again, they were wet with tears. “Daddy, I don’t understand! Does that mean they want to really destroy our species? Because they are… greedy?”

Father looked at the girl sternly, but didn’t give her a response, stirring the brewage silently as Nameless wiped her eyes clean. In fact, her father would never give her an answer, but the fact that his eyes had stared at her so intently brought tears to her face every time.

A part of Uraraka had once found herself believing that travels like these were bound to be fun, used for bonding and mental training. As she had been packing all her stuff, the only thoughts that racked her head being images of her friends laughing, telling stories as they went or taking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Of course, she had been wrong.

Not too much. But still.

The group walked through the forest in a slow trudge, under the shelter of a blinding sunshine that never gave it a rest. Whilst they were walking just by a river – Iida had diligently explained to her that the Capital was located just by a river, so as long as they went in the right direction, they would never get lost – there was no breeze whatsoever, and Uraraka had to remind herself that using magic under such critical elements was not healthy.

There was this moment when Tokoyami came to her side and asked for some whips of air, as Asui had no knowledge of how to do them. The brunette had sighed in resignation. “It’s not wise to use elements you can’t actually bend in space. Bending elements consumes energy, but bending elements one has to actually create is an incredible waste of energy.”

Kaminari, who had been talking with her all the way, butted in shamelessly. “Whoa, those books that Yaoyorozu gave you must have paid off for sure. You sound so technical, Uraraka.”

The sorcerer smiled as contently as possible, sweat gleaming under the hat. “One tries her best. It has happened to me that when I try to light up a candle with no fire around, I feel a bit colder afterwards. So now, creating air out of nothing would possibly knock me into a heat stroke, and I doubt you guys would enjoy carrying me all the way to our next stop.”

She could already hear Bakugou scheming ways to convince her to help Tokoyami, and fumed at his back. He walked a few steps ahead of them, battle sword in hand just in case any nasty enemy came to crash the party. Bakugou looked behind him and instantly snapped when he found her staring at him with that stupidly fumming of hers. “What the hell are you gawking at me for, Uraraka?”

“Wow, Bakugou, moody much.” commented the other blonde, and it sounded like such an obvious statement, devoid of surprise and just too plain regular that nobody paid him any attention. “Sleepless again?”

This time, the hunter was the one to look back at her, but his eyes weren’t as loaded with hatred as one would expect them to be. “Yeah, talkative midgets won’t let one rest.”

Uraraka found herself very much offended when all eyes landed on her. “Hey, I am not that talkative! Stop– Asui, are you seriously laughing at me?”

Asui had only giggled a bit, which counted as a laughing fit for her. “Sorry, I am just kind of glad you two are already making nice. Kudos for putting up with Bakugou so far.”

The leader stopped in his tracks and leaped before Asui with a tapping finger on her arm. It had taken him way too long to snap at someone, which made Uraraka breathe out, finally. It was better to have him throwing a fit now than when they got to the village, tired and sore from skipping streams and getting boulders out of the way.

“Oi, who you calling hysterical, frog girl!?”

She only blinked at him, not as terrified as pale Kaminari was of him. It really seemed like most people from Yuuei had the beast under control, but even Uraraka herself who was kind of used to him – she had experienced him at his worst personally, there wasn’t much worse than that in store for her – would jump at his brashness sometimes. Asui, though, she was so collected and unbreakable.

Sometimes, she wondered if–

“FUCK!” Uraraka turned to see Tokoyami clutching his shoulder in pain, and with a little shift of his posture, she found a dagger stabbing his skin. “What the absolute–“

“My my, foreigners in our territory!”

The crew turned to their right, above the river and up to a mountain cliff. The leader of the group growled loudly and unconsciously walked to stand before his team, sword drawn at the unwanted presence that stood atop the cliff. They wore black cloaks and there was this one that stood in front of the group with some kind of scepter drawn out, black strands of hair blowing in the wind. Uraraka could even sense the wicked smirk that Bakugou sported so well under the capes.

“Hold on…” her eyes squinted at the cloaks, and recognized the beads at the pointed hoods. Her breath got stuck in her throat. “– t-those are…!”

“That fucker.” snarled Bakugou, cleaning some sweat from his jaw. “Where the hell did you guys come from?”

The female voice talked again, head lolled in mean intentions. “Nobody you will ever care about, soft boy.” she looked at one of her henchmen. “Wipe them out.”

This mercenary swung his hand to the right, and a thousand purple spears appeared in the air, pointing at them, and fell down faster than a lightning bolt to crush them dead, pierce their skulls and leave them bleeding on the ground, making the leader chuckle and lips her licks at the full display of flesh she’d have for her people, but–

“Look out!” Uraraka’s staff swung at the sky and a rampage of fire and lighting exploded the attack into smithereens as a ceiling of light rippled in the air, making the forest dance at the wave and the enemies’ cloaks float for a few seconds. The energy rippled onwards into the forest, and burnt some of the highest trees until they were no more than ash.

Uraraka stood straight again, forehead sweaty and weak knees. “That was close.”

Bakugou smacked her on the neck with a grimace, which she rubbed in pain. “No need to burn the fucking whole forest down though. We’re seriously gonna work on that.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the awaiting group, dangerous lights flickering down in her glower. “Noisy children.” she tugged at her hoodie, and dug some dirt out of the cliff with her staff. “Be right back, guys. Don’t wait up.”

And the woman straight jumped off the cliff, staying in mid air for a few seconds to focus on a safe landing. The blonde leader tugged at Uraraka’s neckline and yanked her backwards so she could stay out of the damn way because she didn’t know how to do anything else but stand in his way. When he saw that that damn witch was going to land straight on him, he dug his blade on the dirt and held his wrist straight up.

“This is gonna hurt like a motherfu–“ and he fired, rippling explosions driving through his skin until they imploded and exploded into the air fifty meters above them, fire bubbling in the air as a gust of wind rushed into the ground and slammed on the dirt loudly, making Asui actually stumble and fall into Iida’s armored hands. Uraraka held onto life by driving her staff into the ground, Kaminari holding onto her as well.

This foe though, she was no commoner. Her body dived straight through the explosion with her cloak riding the air, and the hunter had to leap back with a shriek her her scepter slapped the ground and made the soil crack under her feet. Then, she was up, head titled in amusement as her voice cackled in disbelief. “Fun trick, kid. You sure don’t fool around.”

“You…” Tokoyami stepped forward as well, standing by Uraraka’s side. A hazard of a shadow lurked behind his eyes, oh she could tell so well, and his hands were clenched in crossed arms, pondering the potential of this enemy. “you are one of those illegal hunters, aren’t you? From the Jirou family.”

“Ne, such a blunt statement from a bird boy.” she wiped something from the corner of her mouth, and Uraraka came tumbling into the terrifying conclusion that is was red, crimson blood. “Why say it so spitfully, boy? It’s not like we are the plague. And please, don’t make me feel related with that bunch of scruffy criminals. I have more class than that.”

Kaminari stepped in front of Uraraka and Asui, who looked troubled at the sight of such shady woman. “Not like you made that evident, jumping off a high cliff to attack some kids.”

“Never said it wasn’t an adventurous kind of class, blondielocks.” her eyes bled in blue purity into Uraraka’s ones, speaking of horrible death penalties for the sorcerer in her head. “Ah, this child. You sure ruined my little show before, I can get why your village is so damn scared of you.”

Her other hand rested on top of a black whip, nails long, black and dirty. Her uniform was torn in several places, revealing bunches of scarred skin and blood caked on her hip. This woman – Uraraka shuddered under Bakugou’s glare, who was exceptionally aware of what she was thinking – was dangerous. In a kind worse than Bakugou, worse than Shinsou, or darker than that man’s chamber at the mountain crevasse.

She was terrifying, and the thought made her take a step back until she was met with silence from the black-haired woman. Something was telling her to step back, something deep inside those eyes made her world fall into a ditch of statics and bugs, nagging thoughts of nightmares and blood dripping down her hands, heads surrounding her and rain falling on her neck again–

A jolt of electricity made those thoughts disappear until they were no more than a stain in her mind. “She’s toying with you. Don’t look into her eyes or she–“

“My, such a talkative boy.” snarled the woman, flicking her hair over her shoulder under the cloak. “Let me introduce myself, even though I doubt it’s necessary, right? Judging by your faces, I doubt it’s necessary.”

Her hand fetched her hoodie and tossed it behind, revealing a sharp, pale face with black glasses and pointed factions. That face… – Uraraka screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip as she thought back in days when she had seen that face, that victory and those dead eyes of hers that– Uraraka gasped, and a mild rush of fear ran down her spine at seeing such a dangerous figure stand idle in front of them, in front of him.

“I go by the name of Midnight, referred as Hollow Despair by my peers and all those who survive me.” her voice was arrogant, but not in the way Bakugou’s was, again. She was in so many ways as mean as the leader was, yet it was easy to see he was just unreliant and brash. Yet, this woman… she was so much more than that. “Hey, brown eyes, see this staff? It’s way prettier than yours.”

Uraraka had the urge to spit on her and say it just wasn’t her cup of tea, because that scepter of hers held a deadly aura nobody liked. Black staff with bars surrounding a cracked skull, moss growing out of the ancient heirloom. It sprinkled some odd vibes off the scepter, smells like a cemetery, and the place is suddenly deadly silent for the moments to come, the voice of this mercenary filling the whole forest. “I am a necromancer, professional in the art of death and despair, and whoever who crosses paths with me is destined to receive a nightmare battle. No opponent of mine leaves unscarred. Nobody ever has.”

This makes Uraraka gulp, and hears the distant clinking of Bakugou’s sword being drawn out from the earth, and a chuckle. It is all so distant, why did she feel like this? Blood was plumping into her heart in a frenzy, rationality forgotten as her hands trembled on her staff’s hold. What the hell was going on?

“Necromancers are the antithesis of sorcerers.” mumbled Asui to her peer, who eyed the pharmacist with tired eyes. It looks like Asui was kind of exhausted as well. “Their energy naturally draws your energy and sucks it into their bloodstream. Our magic can’t do much against them.”

“Then, we are useless?” exclaimed she, frantic and desperate as the deafness only drew in closer. “We can’t do anything?”

“Pretty much.” Asui looked at the four warriors in front of them, and eyed Bakugou as he drew his blade in front of his guild mates loyally, which made Asui sigh in relief. “They won’t need us that badly. I wouldn’t worry much over it.”

The brunette had never felt this helpless in her whole life. This was the first time she remembered to have needed to lay down her weapons, nature too cruel and mean to allow her to fight. Her hands trembled in anxiety as the boys aimed for the woman, attempting to nuke her as hard as possible– but their attacks were futile against that agile woman who rejected their attacks with a swing of her damned scepter.

“What the hell, woman?” the leader held a hand up, explosions rippling, and slammed it to the ground as to make it tremble, knocking her back a few meters as it cracked and shook under Bakugou’s grasp. “You a look a lil’ shaken up! Why don’t you come and face us?”

His bravado was all but useful – mused Uraraka solemnly, gripping her staff with strength. A little breeze blew from behind her in the middle of the battle, making her nape feel relieved and her life start beating anew, renewed limbs and decision etched in her thin veins. Asui looked at that dangerous glint of hers, and grew worried for her friend.

“Iida, protect Asui!” called the brunette, making the knight spin to meet her eyes. “I will serve as support for them!”

The brunette treaded towards the fighting blur of colors and smashed the ground with her foot, a column of spikes rippling from beneath and running towards the necromancer, who broke them with ease with a swing of her scepter. Ah, so much for being sneaky, and Bakugou looked at her with exasperation at her for pulling such bland move.

“Oh, we have a newcomer here.” Midnight tossed a strand of hair aside and pounded the ground with her weapon. Uraraka heard Bakugou and Kaminari grunt, and they were clutching their heads when she craned her head to meet them. Her eyes grew concerned, but didn’t think much of it. “It’s good to see a little mage playing with the world as well. We sure are the misunderstood profession, huh.”

Her heart was tugging ever so slowly as Midnight stared at her intently, and her stomach lurched as something akin to exhaustion and awkwardness stirred deep inside of her, her brain racking with various facts that suddenly made her feel nervous, anxiety crawling and gnawing from behind as it pulled, pulled, and suddenly impacted on her.

The brunette was almost brought to her knees as energy was drawn from her, replaced with all kinds of negative thoughts that had her mind screaming to stop, weak and fragile, slow and burning. “Disposable.” snapped the necromancer, and tugged her hand up to make the ground quake beneath her, sending Uraraka flying towards the depths of the forest.

Kaminari screamed for her name, but was interrupted halfway when her feet scraped the ground and created cushioning spikes of stone and stopped the push, landing on her knees with a hand on the ground, panting. Bakugou and Iida blinked at her, and watched her brush a bead of sweat off her jaw. She might have survived that, but that woman was drawing energy off her too fast.

“You can’t die, huh? Miracle girl I shall call you.” snarky, egocentric and the pure evil, that woman was. The little sorcerer was able to stand up, and Kaminari instantly came to shield her, whip drawn out and sparkling with bolts. Midnight licked her lips at the blonde boy, who was frowning in a threat at the mad woman. “Don’t stare at me so hard, boy.”

She dug her scepter a bit harder on the ground, her smirk tightening as Bakugou and Kaminari this time doubled over in pain. They groaned a few curses, but still managed to stand. Bakugou dug his hand into his head and Uraraka saw him tug– wow, he was trying hard. “What kind of game are you playing, damned witch?”

Uraraka’s eyes then drew to the staff on Midnight’s hand, and watched the skull. Blood rushed to her ears and deafened for a second, a wave of displeasant wind thundering across the small clearing. It sent Bakugou and Kaminari to their feet almost instantly, but Uraraka was quick to bend the current and drive it back to her, sending the mercenary flying meters behind again.

“Fucking shit,” mumbled the leader, struggling to stand again now that the other woman was a bit further away, trudging towards Uraraka. “what the fuck are you–“

“She may be a necromancer and…” her legs buckled underneath her, but Bakugou made no attempt to help her stand as in, as he expected, she was able to sustain the swoon and manage to grab her staff for support. “all that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t use brutal force against her.”

Bakugou stretched his fist with his other hand and rolled his neck a little. “I can handle her, but your magic will only nurture her if you use too much of it. It ain’t wise at all to go into battle, Uraraka.”

The girl eyed him warily, an eyebrow quirked as she finally properly stood up. Midnight was starting to stand up, brushing some dirt off her neck, and Kaminari stepped to his peers again. “She ain’t backing off easy, huh?”

“Ain’t happening.” the leader was still kind of scored on, his legs were quivering in the meanest of ways, and he held his head on his hand. Still, the grimace of a challenge still gung on his face. That made her smirk a little, and his sword hissed in front of her feet. “Not like we can’t take that bitch, right?”

Uraraka dug into the ground with a defiant, meancing glint in her eyes, and Kaminari stretched his fists as jolts shot out of them. Still, the girl wasn’t sure if they would hold up for much longer. They were panting, willing to fight but their bodies seemed to have other plans. She did hold onto hope despite the circumnstances, and watched the necromancer get to her feet with a horrifyingly pissed expression.

Her head snapped to the cliff she had come from. “What the fuck are you losers doing up there? Get these kids!”

Bakugou already had a plan in mind, and flashed a glare at the bird man. “Bir– Tokoyami, Iida!”

“Got you, master.” Tokoyami was gone in a flash of shadows, and a screech that Uraraka had to cover her ears from. Iida was gone with the boy, and had left Asui to stride to her companions.

The enemy was gripping her cloak when Uraraka looked up again, and this strange, bleak smile broke free when she had all their attention. Her brow was knit though, showing a contradictory set of emotions. The sad, angry and ravenous vibe never wore off, and only started to wear thin on everyone. The more they looked in her eyes, the more the darkness drew closer.

Bakugou stepped a little bit forward, standing in front of the group. The woman wanted to laugh. She did. “Oh my, such mighty group sending two boys after my mercenaries. I hope you bid them good farewells before this encounter.”

Kaminari put Asui behind him in basic instinct. Uraraka, instead of being content with the arrangement, stepped forward as well. “You should be worrying about your people more, old hag.”

“What do you–“

A collection of pained screams issued from somewhere in the forest, along with the very same screech they had heard before but double in intensity, as if moaning in misery. It was heartbreaking, yet immensely powerful. Midnight turned at them in disgust after narrowing her eyes at the source of sound. “What even–“

“That must be Tokoyami sorting out the trash, ribbit.”

“Tokoyami…?” now that Uraraka thought about it, she didn’t even know much about him. As far as she had seen, he didn’t even have weapons with him. What the hell was his profession or skill if he even had one? “Well, that’s not the thing now!”

Mignight growled at the people who she saw as children, a nuisance, and pounded the ground with her scepter. “Silence!”

“GAH!”

Kaminari and Bakugou let out a loud scream of pain before limping onto the ground, trembling and crawling on the ground for dear life. Kaminari was out of comission in a second, his trembling stopping altogether and his breath haltering. Uraraka gasped and stiffled in a scream as some blood started pooling around the boy’s head, white and statics covering her mind as screeches, blood and rain mixed in a metallic pang of worry and panicking.

And above all, red. The red of Bakugou’s eyes, squinting at the necromancer as he crawled to her. It was as if gravity was pulling him down and not up as usual, his voice wasn’t edgy nor his muscles were tensed in emotion. This was raw, desperate Bakugou, crawling as Uraraka stared from behind.

“Y-You… fucking bitch…”

Moments of void echos vibrated in the zone, and the leader fell out of consciousness, reality leaving his thoughts and movements and he fell, shattered and stopped breathing. When Uraraka and Asui saw the very same crimson blood start falling off Bakugou’s closed lids, something snapped in Uraraka. The image came in waves at her, something about it being so so vaguely familiar, yet so very distant and out of reach.

Showered in far away, metallic awry rain, she watched the blood spill from his head, and then looked up at Midnight in pure rage. “What the hell do you think you are doing to my people, witch!?”

“I can’t really see the diff–“

“Shut up!” Uraraka flung her staff in front of her, ruffles of fire cascading down onto the earth, with lighting, making Midnight jump to a side and avoid the fire crackers.

Her staff touched ground again, and as she crossed her hands, an ancient spirral of chaos and destruction shone under her feet, contained in a white seal of thunder and rocks. “Accept your fate, nothings!”

When she released the seal, a big thunder wave of wind and lighting slammed onto the ground, shook the gravel and sent the brunette flying meters behind, trashing trees at her wake as she flew across the air and landed on a bigger tree, which resisted her push yet made her head hit the trunk pretty bad, clothes scarred and torn with burns on her skin. The area was ruined with a long hallway of broken trees and dust, making Asui frown her eyes at the murderer.

Uraraka didn’t get up yet.

Midnight looked at Asui with disdain. She couldn’t feel any magic in her, and that… thing wasn’t even human. She was a mutant. “I don’t know what you are, little thing,” with a hard thrust on a crack, Asui was flying as a rock pillar sent her out of the ground from below. “but I don’t think these kids will need you anymore.”

Asui tried her best to flail her arms around for some movement, but Midnight ended discarding her at the river that flowed behind them, and Asui didn’t surface from the dark waters either. The necromancer chuckled at the rich collection of decaying bodies in front of her, and saw them writhe a little as she moved. Her scepter articulated a chain with a gripper, that attached itself to Bakugou’s neck. It gripped his throat tightly, and as Midnight tugged at the chain, she smirked. Delicious blood dripped down his jaw as his nose bled as well, and she kicked his shoulder as she clenched the chain with her fists.

“Pretty little boy.” the tugged at the chains harder, and tried to dislocate his shoulder with another kick from her heeled foot. “Such a disg–“

A explosion was heard in the distance, and Uraraka was sent flying after Midnight as fire rippled from her palm, screaming at the top of her lungs. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!” and her body impacted with Midnight’s in a deaf sound, movement stilling before the woman was sent straight into the cliff, a cavity created as the necromancer unceremonously landed on the wall.

Uraraka hissed in pain and waved her hand with a little blow. She couldn’t understand how Bakugou did that crime on a daily basis without being handicapped for a while, because her hand would bleed and bruise after such compression and explosion of energy. Magic wasn’t supposed to hurt her that much physically, but this trick of his was a fucking suicide bomb.

However, Midnight didn’t take much longer to be getting up again. Uraraka looked at the river, and alarms rung all over her head, an annoying beep in her ears as the crash left the whole place silent. “Asui!”

But a clap of thunder tore the ground beneath her apart, and a huge shadow kicked her on the back as Midnight slammed the scepter into the crevasse. Uraraka rolled dangerously near the river, and the necromancer jumped to this side, snarling. “Disposable little thing.” she gave her another kick, and Uraraka was sinking into the waters of the stream.

Her eyes tried to blink open in the dark waters, and could differ some streaks of light stemming into the low ground below her as she floated deeper and deeper. Her hair waved around her like a halo, her torn clothes heavy and caressing her burnt skin, caked in blood and savage intentions that had left her dizzy, confused, and she was almost touching ground now. Luckily for her, the river was particularly still now, but it still carried her onwards little by little.

Uraraka finally fluttered her eyes open, and silence greeted her surroundings aside from occasional bubbling. She tried to make out her surroundings in the muddy waters and found out that some wounds were stinging her like bees, so she gripped her hand for dear life. Her back was throbbing as well, which wasn’t very good either.

She grimaced. That nasty necromancer was for sure doing bad things to the bodies of her friends, and she had been so fired up at the thought of having to celebrate a burial in such nice day. Her eyes had lit up, teeth clenched as an avalanche of disarrayed emotions whirled through her– only to die here, at the hands of muddy water and a laughing sociopath.

She looked at her bruised hands, then at the surface, and tried to flail a bit a move. Nothing. She kicked her feet around, nothing. Not knowing how to actually swim only came to her mind now, and she would have cursed loudly if it hadn’t been for the water making its way into her esophagus, ice and fire fighting as it burned, scrorched, and she clenched her eyes in pain.

Then, something frail and lukewarm enveloped her in the muddy darkness, and she let herself be taken.

Midnight kicked Kaminari’s unconscious body a little, humming in approval. “He would make for good fodder. I can use him as a delicious container, though… heh, so many possibilities for my people, to–“

A loud splash of water rumbled behind Midnight, and she turned to witness Asui enveloped ina massive bubble of water, Uraraka tucked under her arm as one of her hands was shot forward– and the pair floated in the ball of tides before Asui unleashed the currents onto the unsuspecting Midnight. “River Enchanting: Dragon Slash!”

The bubble disappeared into the shape of a roaring transparent dragon that screeched and pushed Midnight deep across the forest, creating a streak of havoc that threw the enemy out of the clearing, devastated trees and created a little earthquake when it smashed the necromancer onto the ground, throwing her to the dirt below.

Asui left an almost unmoving Uraraka on the ground as she effortlessly strode a bit towards the streak of destruction, no signs of pride showing whatsoever the moment she saw the wrecked, shaking bodies of her peers on the ground. The other sorcerer made an attempt to lift her head, and started coughing out water like a sprinkled as soon as she was conscious enough.

As Asui stepped nearer, she glared at Midnight like she had never done. “Don’t underestimate a little girl like me, hunter.”

Midnight hissed dangerously at the herbalist, crouched and wiping some dirt and blood clean from her face. “Not worth the pain, fucking children.” she tucked her head under the hoodie of her cloak and fled out of the scene, letting Asui breathe in relief while rushing to Uraraka’s side.

The girl was trying to spit all water out of her lungs, clutching her chest while grunting and grimacing at her blisters and cuts. “Are you alright, Uraraka?”

Cough, cough. “Y-yeah, just–“ she closed and opened her bruised hand, sighing in relief when there was no open wound that could have been polluted by the water. “– kinda peachy. the others though…”

Uraraka scrambled to her feet and hurried over Bakugou to slap his cheeks a few times, then shook him. The fallen leader only breathed a little bit, blood falling down his nose and trailing on his cheek. Uraraka craddled him on her arms while Asui checked on Kaminari. She wasn’t even thinking, all she wanted now was for him to wake up, just wake up, jus–

“Uraraka, stop!” she couldn’t understand. Why was seeing Bakugou hurt hammering so hard on her? Her heart wasn’t beating that hard, she wasn’t breathing heavily– no signs of distress, yet, why was she clutching his head so tightly?

Metallic thunder and rain clapped in another place, falling down on them in another story, another world, another time. It was raining somewhere else.

“Mother…”

“We must hurry!” the brunette eased one of his arms around her neck carefully, and wrapped her own arm around his waist, getting up. “We need to take them to the nearest village, quickly!”

Asui obediently tucked her own arm around Kaminari, who almost toppled over and crushed her with his weight. “Couldn’t you use your ability, though? We could take them there faster.”

“Impossible.” and Uraraka regretted saying this, because if she had spent more time training her skills rather than chatting around, she would be able to take them flying somewhere safe. “My ability gives me terrible nausea if I overuse it. I haven’t had enough training to–“ she adjusted Bakugou’s body on her side with a grunt. “–to actually develop it properly. Damn it.”

“We should manage until we get to our next stop, but we will have to make it a race.” Asui looked around her, searching for the right path in the midst of the forestal havoc around them. “We will have to make Iida sprint to the village and tell the others to give us a hand. Yaoyorozu is our best hand to play here.”

Uraraka took a cautious step, shrugging his body closer– then another. She could manage. “This guy sure is heavy, but alright. I gotta… be strong, and push on.” this last bit was murmured more for herself, mentally lost in the middle of a clearing of confusion, worry and searing heat around them.

But Asui smiled anyway.

When Bakugou came to, he felt like wherever he was, it was the wrong place.

His fingertips scraped the soft thing underneath him, tilting his head a bit when he was met with a soft blanket, rough at the edges, but smooth all the same. His head was on something bland, and his neck, bandaged and kind of tight. It was stitchy. His arms felt sore as well, and his wrist was pained, swollen much probably.

His mind did the kind gesture of backtracking a bit, then heard noises out of the place he was in. He clenched his eyes close for a second as light started filtering it, hinges sounding, and steps trudged around him.

“Bakugou?”

The leader woke up with a start when he saw Asui staring at him right in the face, not more than a few inches away from his nose. “What the actual fuck, frog girl!”

“I was expecting you to remember my name or at least call me by it. Whatever.” the blonde boy supported himself on his elbows and looked at her go to a little table at the end of his brown, orange and white room. There were a lot of medical supplies there. “Try to rest. You weren’t easy to fix.”

His eyes trailed down his abdomen, but no bandages rested there. There was nothing in his arms, excepting his hands, and then he had one wrapped around his forehead, something heavy straped on it. Bakugou let out a big breath of exhaustion as the events from last–

“How long…” Asui came to remove the damp cloth from his head and nodded. “have I been here?”

“Two days.” answered the girl quickly, and dried the cloth on a nearby bucket. “Midnight did a number on you and Kaminari.”

–right, two days since that stupid witch, a spawn of the devil, came to play with him. He felt impossibly weak after being so beaten up, and undeniably weak and stupid. He wondered: what would had he looked like, laying half dead on the ground at the mercy of such a powerful enemy like that woman? The ground had cracked evenly beneath his muscles, pain rippling inside his mind– and suddenly, he was no more. The aftermath was rough, but so was the fall.

“Ribbit! Don’t burn the mattress, Bakugou!” smoke was steaming from his hands, and Asui had to slap them off before he had no bed to sleep on.

He frowned and attempted to sit on the bed. When Asui tapped his shoulder, he extended his arm obediently, stil fuming over his defeat. “I just can’t believe that bitch got me so damn good…” Asui quietly damped his neck and shoulder on oilments, and looked over his arm with critical eye. “Damn that Jirou clan… They are no good news.”

The girl gave his neck a final squeeze and retreated back a little to squeeze the water out of the cloth on a bucket. “She was overpowered, there was no hope for us to win. All Uraraka and I could do was knock her around a little bit. Thank god she got tired of us quickly.”

Bakugou frowned when that damn sorcerer’s name came into the topic, and hissed with deep hatred. She sure must have had the time of her life laughing at his decaying corpse while she nuked that necromancer. “Of course you were able to play with her.” he didn’t know who he was exactly referring to, but he was getting pretty mad at the image of him laying and Uraraka standing and fighting. “Fucking sure you could.”

“Sheesh, calm down.” Asui stared at Bakugou shredding the blankets again. Such a waste of bed clothing. “It’s fine. You don’t need to be the one stomping on others’ heads all the time. Does it really make you that mad we were the ones who got her to escape?”

“I don’t fucking care you were able to get her out of our tails. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you girls doing something.” his grimace got so drunken in rage and regret that he had to close his eyes and seethe in silence. “But I can’t get over that damn midget–“

“Oh, so this is about Uraraka, even after all this time.”

The leader craned his head slowly to glare at the herbalist, who clearly didn’t give a fuck about his little grudges with her. “Don’t sass me either, you damn–“

“No, really. I can understand what you mean.” condoned Asui, a finger to her mouth. Judging by Bakugou’s surprised face, frown squished in wonder, she had all his attention. “We are all aware of what Uraraka is capable of doing. There will come a moment when she will surpass our own expectations, and she will step over us in power.”

“Yes, damn straight.” agreed he, slamming a fist on the ruined blankets with a snarl. “Finally, someone sees my point–“

“However,” of course, she had to ruin the little communication they had. “that doesn’t mean she is a menace to us. All this time, she has proven to us that she had a good heart in many ocassions. Do I have to remind you of how she still tries to talk to you despite your foul personality?”

Bakugou almost jumped out of the bed and knocked her to a better life, but decided against it because, after all, she was the one curing him. “I am a damn delight!” he slumped on the wall, arms crossed and pouted, nose wrinkled in distaste. “And it’s not like she is trying. She just doesn’t get the damn hint I don’t wanna be her friend, and if it was up to me, I’d fucking have her head on a wall.”

“You still personally accepted into the guild, though.”

“When will you all stop rubbing that in my face!?” screamed he, but Asui still continued stirring some creams and treatments on a flask, herbs smashed on a little handkerchief. “Damn her, and fuck her cheeks, her staff, and her ass pity! I don’t need anything from her.”

“Stop sulking.” scolded the water sorcerer with a minimal scowl, disliking such childish displayal. “If you were an actual mature leader, you would have put this grudge of yours aside and looked at the situation with critical eye. I understand that you may not like her, but she has saved your ass many times now.”

“EXCU–“

“Listen,” she cut him off gently, like a little knife in fire cutting a solid cube of ice butter, her eyes soft and hands fidgeting beneath his eyes set aflame. “for starters, it was her who got up after a solid, killing blow and knocked Midnight out of the clearing. I was the one who ended up kicking her off, yes–“

“Again, it’s not like I don’t aknowledge her strength, but I don’t own her a–“

“–but she was the one who actually saved you” not Kaminari, not Asui, nobody else but him, and he could see that tint of insistance in the pharmacist’s eyes. “from probably getting necked off. When she saw you in such bad state, for some reason I can’t comprehend, she went berserk. Afterwards, she personally carried your ungrateful ass to the village, and helped me tend your severe wounds– wounds that, mind you, would have been worse if it weren’t for her.”

Such rush of information caught Bakugou off guard, and he actually flinched at the accusatory tone in Asui’s tired voice. Now that he noticed, she had bags under her eyes, her hair was unkempt, and her skin has several untreated wounds. Was Uraraka in such state as well? After saving his ass, after actually carrying him here, was she untreated and disarrayed like this snarky pharmacist was? The thought suddenly didn’t bode well with him, and something akin to shame panged at his heart. He swatted it away quickly though.

“Look, I know that you don’t like her, and you will probably never even be friends with her. Nobody is actually asking for such miracle.” Asui padded next to the leader, who glanced at her in thought. She had never seen so silent in her whole life. “But she doesn’t deserve this rage after going out of her way for you in these occassions. In the same way you think you don’t need to thank her, she doesn’t need to do anything for you – it’s not her obligation, it’s not necessary, but she still wants to help you out anyway.”

Out of the blue, his grudges were kept under the shadows and they just stopped nagging at him, stopped putting him on edge, and let him take control of the situation. It was true that the sorcerer was usually nice at him – well, apart from the times when she only went to him to pester and ask ridiculous questions, but that wasn’t the point. Uraraka was a threat, hell yes, she would always be one – but that didn’t really need to stay that way forever.

Up to now, all she had done was put his guild out of trouble when he was either too small or the situation was too big. She was undeniably powerful, had a strong will, and needed to bloom in so many ways. She was a sorcerer, a threat to humankind he needed to keep his eyes on– but things didn’t need to be that way. It was hard to stick to such beliefs, but now that he thought about it, it was more tiring to dislike her than just humor her.

He eyed Asui warily, giving up. He could try to be actively cooperative and stop taking steps back.

“And how am I supposed to be nice to her?”

The girl didn’t show any signs of relief or happiness, just nodded and flashed a little smile. “You could start by going to see her. She left a few hours ago, said something about studying, and scrambled off. Maybe thanking her would make her day a bit better after slaving herself for your sake.”

“Thanking her?” the concept seemed painfully foreign to him.

“Remember, Bakugou… she may one day tire of being nice to you. It may seem like a good riddance now, but trust me she is a keeper.” and he had been told about that a few times now. Kirishima and Kaminari had talked pretty well about her, and all he had done to condemn those opinions was accept her into the guild. He had felt like he had done enough with that, but it was seemingly too little of an action.

The blonde hunter sighed tiredly. In a way, her studying for their trainings, for his guild, after tending his wounds for being a wimp… it wasn’t really fair. He was a fair dude. He wanted justice in his guild. He could give her justice and try to make it all easier for them both– and his guild, remembered he with a grimace.

“Yeah, whatever. Just gonna get this over with so you guys stop giving me earfuls about her being a fucking miracle.” grunted an ugly breath of discontentment and dettached himself from the wall. “Can I walk, though?”

“Of course you can.” he sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasping the blankets with care. He would probably have to pay for those. “Your neck will feel sore for a while, and your wrist is kind of swollen too, but that should be gone in a day. For now, take it easy.”

Bakugou played a bit with both parts, twisting his wrist – it hurt – and craning his neck – that did, too, and he slammed a hand on it with a hiss. “Fine. Just give me some treatments so this nuisance is gone. Where is Uraraka at?”

“This is our room, but she didn’t want to be disturbed or disturb us, so she is taking an empty room for now.” seriously, who told her to be so goddamn nice? Bakugou growled a little. Was she trying to purposefully make him feel bad? He hadn’t given her a reason to do such things, just… “It’s the one at the end of the hallway, with the pot on its side. Try not to be too brash, alright? You just woke up.”

The leader brushed past her, fetched a simple shirt from the hanger by the door and hurried inside of it with enormous urges to get such mental burden out of the way. He had no time to deal with petty businesses like these: he needed to focus on RampAge, on the timeline, on saving it and saving his comrades. It seems like he would have to get Uraraka to feel like one to start with.

“I ain’t moody, frog-girl.” grunted he over his shoulder, biting back so many insults that, after some silent thinking, she didn’t deserve. “I’ll come back to get some painkillers. Pray for that brat’s safety.”

Asui was about to say something about it, but her voice died when the leader slammed the door close was left with heavy stride towards the damned door. He squinted and saw that the mentioned pot was red, giving him all kinds of bad vibes. Each step he took felt like a stab into his pride and all morals he had been building these years, like tearing a wall down brick by brick. She gave him that uneasy feeling of being defenseless in front of her straightforward attitude, how she was unaffected by his remarks.

He hat– no, he didn’t hate her. He didn’t want to kill her, either, he decided. She was worth keeping, but she didn’t need to make him feel bad about it. He hadn’t done anything to deserve such treatment. He didn’t owe her anything more than a simple thank you. He had already decided that she didn’t mean any evil by being so… like this, and all he could do was try to make it easier for her.

Bakugou just shut his critical part of his brain and acted as his fair heart wanted to. He couldn’t cut her off the picture anymore when she was so adamant on sticking by him. It annoyed him, yes, baceuase she felt like a liar, because he didn’t need it– but, apparently, his guild and him sometimes needed her. And for actually being there, she deserved the recognition. Even if she annoyed him.

Knocking on the door with obvious impatience, he have the pot a kick for the sake of keeping his personal tastes in check. He then knocked again, and again, but nobody answered. It came to him that the door was unlocked after a rather violent hit, and he opened it with uncanny precaution.

Bakugou groaned way too loud when he saw her slumped over the table, too many books and scrolls crowding the desk and her head tuked on her arms, on top of a book that seemed to be almost compeltely read– seems like exhaustion got the best of her and she had collapsed before reading the book and had, consequently, overworked herself to this extent.

Uraraka was too hard-working. It unnerved him for a reason, because she didn’t need to do this and instead she went on and did it. The world wouldn’t stop spinning if she took a rest after taking care of him, she didn’t need to make him see her worth so hard. Not like this after saving his ass. A small wave of new guilt came crashing on him, overwhelmed him for a second. The world faded, there was only her, books, bags on her eyes and wounds on her arms, blisters, burns.

She didn’t deserve this. The feeling overtook him before he whacked the chair she was on to silence his heart. “Yo, Uraraka, what the hell.”

The sorcerer didn’t even budge at his brash attempt, only snuggled deeper into her arms and mumbled something under her breath. The leader angrily kicked the table, which shook, but didn’t wake her at all. Talk about heavy sleepers. He gave her shoulder a little shake and silently seethed over how cold she was. Now that he thought about it, the room itself was abnormally cold.

“Damn it, Uraraka.” he tried to keep it in, but he never did good with unbehaving people. He slammed the table with his hand and made all materials quiver, including the sorcerer. “Fucking wake up already!”

Uraraka flung her head back with a start, almost hitting Bakugou on her side, and somehow resumed reading the book in front of her. “Sorry! Right, so, humankind tried to–“

He smacked her neck with a fist, angered at such careless attitude. “What in the world are you doing, Uraraka?”

The girl moaned and rubbed her neck with a pout, then yawned but stopped halfway, such gruff and hoarse voice so rich and vivid that she recognized it I a second too late. She turned her head to glance up at the livid leader, who had a hand on her chair. “Oh, Bakugou! It’s good to see you awake!”

The sorcerer blinked, some tears of sleepyness trailing down her cheeks, and yawned again. He grit his teeth and had this inhuman urge to close all her books and make her rest for a damn second. “What the fuck are you doing? Shouldn’t you be sleeping after being my nurse or something?”

He mentioned the issue so lightly that if she took it into consideration for more than a second, he didn’t notice. Uraraka turned to the books, then him. “Right! Well, I just had some spare time to finish off some books Yaoyorozu gave me, so I could go get some new volumes at the local library tomorrow, because you see, what I was given was kinda…”

She trailed off for a few seconds, holding Bakugou onto a line of broken dialogue, then she yawned and that was the last nail on the coffin for him. “I don’t give a fuck about it, go to sleep already. It won’t do any good for you to be limping around when we train.”

Bakugou then noticed that one of her hands was completely wrapped up in bandages, as was that very same arm. In fact, some medications laid around the room and he was starting to freak out over this woman. What kind of alien civilization educated her to be this crazy? All she was doing was straining herself. He didn’t give a fuck if she had a bad time while being rough on herself, he wouldn’t be crossing over that line anytime soon.

However, as much as he tried to stifle those thoughts, the excuse of this load of work being bad for the overall guild seemed kind of unfounded after all she had gone through because of him. She didn’t really deserve that, but again, he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. Still, he gave her another shake when she started dozing off on him. “Oi, at least hold up until I leave the room.”

“Oh! You are… right.” the brunette rubbed her eyes awake and looked at him from lidded eyes, peeking. Exhaustion swam all around her, she had this nasty ability to transfix feelings so damn easily. “What did you need, though? There is no way you would come to check on me without a reason.”

One of his eyes actually twitched after what sounded like an accusation, but he didn’t verbally express it because… nah, it wasn’t worth it. “Just go to sleep already. It ain’t worth it anymore.”

“Are you–“

Bakugou got a handful of her hair and smashed her head – slowly, though, as to not break the books – on the table. “Yes, I am sure. Just rest for a while. That’s…”

That was the least she deserved.

“Hm?” she didn’t even make an effort to get up, and only looked at him as he turned around to leave her. Her eyes were closing on their own, submerging her into a field of flickering blackness and swimming, scattered mumbling. “What is it?”

“Tch.” Bakugou shook his head and went for the knob, and before he knew it, she was breathing evenly again. He turned to her again, and was proven right when her eyes were closed, mouth parted and chest rising and falling under his irritated glare.

His head snapped to a blob of reds on a chair in a corner of the room, and a part of him wanted to walk the extra mile and get that blanket and suffocate her so she wouldn’t feel the coldness of the room. After a minute of glaring daggers into the fabric, he gave it a rest and turned heel again. He had done enough already, no need to overdo it.

Yet, right before leaving, his eyes trailed over her slomped form and sighed, vexation finding itself into him again and he closed the door, softly, muttering something about this being useless, her being irritating… but he still decided that he would be giving her the message he had intended to.

She always made him feel so many contradictory emotions. He wanted to respect her and be nice, but she made it so very difficult by being so unbearably… hardworking, determined. He didn’t like admitting that Asui may have been right in most parts of her version.

Still, he didn’t care. Uraraka could go and sleep around all corners and cut herself an arm as long as she didn’t bother him. And this didn’t bother him.

Not a single bit.

Uraraka hadn’t rested. Against Bakugou’s ever so gentle orders, her head hadn’t found a drop of rest in the pages of this massive book of history. When her eyes fluttered open, about half an hour after Bakugou’s departure, a load of other volumes presented themselves in front of her eyes.

She glared pointedly at them, and frowned. It was a miracle she had managed to swallow so much information on a sole go after the battle with Midnight, or dealing with a Bakucorpse and the aftermath of it all. After being warned that she needed to train her abilities more to avoid situations like these in the future, she had gotten as many books from her bag and read as much as possible. The rest… it had rolled off casually, really.

In a moment, she had found herself wrapping a blanket around herself and padding to Midoriya’s dorm, which stood right in the other hallway of the little residence, and she had been given a clear response on the matter before she had even completed her request.

“No.”

Uraraka puffed her cheeks at Midoriya, who balanced himself on a chair. Lots of documents rested on his desk, unopened envelopes and maps, and she couldn’t help feeling like an intruder in his room. “Are you kidding me? Why not?”

“For starters, I don’t know why you want more books after Yaoyorozu gave a pretty reasonable amount of them. I don’t understand why you have decided to finish them off so quickly either.”

“Well, I just wanted to get things out of the way! After Midnight gave us such scare, I can’t go on without some kind of training. I can’t train with Bakugou having RampAge on the loose, not in ideal condtions anyway.” the leader shook his head with a bashful smile that made her hold her breath. “What’s so good about the situation anyway?”

“You and Bakugou are so alike sometimes… such a shame he will never see you in that way.” he sighed, but there was this kind smile he always had on despite being serious. This man was levelheaded and calm, smiling and kind. It reminded her of Todoroki in some ways, but Midoriya was clearly more outspoken than the other boy would ever be. “Still, I don’t want you go to overworking yourself any longer. You have other things to worry about.”

Uraraka crossed her arms, folding her hands on her elbows and tapping relentlessly. “I won’t overwork myself. It’s not like the situation doesn’t require some–“ she had him frowning straight away, so she had to instantly cover it up. “but still! I know it’s not healthy for me either! And it will hit the guild if I falter.”

Since she was lying a little bit, she even used Bakugou’s words for reference. Turns out she was using Bakugou’s methods and awful lot lately. Uraraka couldn’t make anything good out of it. “Please, Midoriya! I won’t overwork myself.”

“Can’t take the risk, Uraraka. You are also straining yourself too much by even being here so late in the night.”

“The sun just set.”

“Still.”

Both sighed in dejection, as they wouldn’t reach a meeting point anytime soon. Midoriya wanted his guild mates to rest idle and easy, Bakugou as well. Then existed Uraraka as an oppositing force that would do anything to fight and become a fearsome professional on her own. She had the will, she had the strength, why not let her stretch the gum a little more?

“Doesn’t matter, I guess.” breathed the girl in a whisper the other didn’t hear. “I will just go have a walk around the village or something. I don’t think I’ll be able to have a brink of sleep after all this.”

Uraraka bowed a little with a small smile, and turned swiftly to leave. Just as Midoriya’s chair scraped to meet the table again and focus on the matters at hand, Uraraka faltered in her step. “I don’t wish to be too inquisitive, but…”

Midoriya turns a little to regard her, his eyes interested on whatever business she is about to say. Again, this boy had this strange ability to make her feel warm and kind inside, always listening to her requests and cheering on her. Her mind was always at ease when she was with him, his words well intended and his attitude collected and nice. She now wondered why, somehow, she had ended hanging around Bakugou instead of him.

Fate was not on the same wavelength as her, for sure.

“Why is Bakugou so… perpetually on edge with you?” this seemed to startle him, and maybe this wasn’t the right mood in which to ask so Uraraka stumbled to explain. “I know this is a sudden thing to ask but… it’s weird to see two leaders be so distant from each other. Don’t mind me if I’m being a gossip and stuff but I just–“

“Please, Uraraka, it’s fine.” cuts he in, waving her worry off with this little shine of his eyes that was so sweet to her and endearing. “It’s an old story, no need to even mention it. He is just…” he measures his words, rolls them around his tongue and them lets them fall off in a trail of sad thoughts. There is senseless regret there, too. “let’s say he just doesn’t like me much for… reasons, personal reasons. We are working it through.”

“But–“

“It’s fine, Uraraka. For now, just focus on resting. Wander around a bit if that will help you sleep.” the girl had so many words inside of her to still say, but she forcefully swallowed them and gulped, a hand outstretched in shock. “There will be several fairs around town we will be attending soon, maybe you can check some out now!”

And she blinked– blinked because Midoriya had been so quick to raise the shield and silently kick her out before she said too much, asked too much. If there was something she knew right now was that this wasn’t her place, so she gave it all up and sighed, shrugging. “Yes, I will do that.”

Surprisingly enough, she didn’t sound edgy at all there was this scratchy knot in her throat from both exhaustion and the feeling of having this unbreakable wall in front of her that separated her from the nice leader, and having been so blunt about it seemed like lack of respect for him. In a bow of silence, the girl turned and left with a little nod of her head, leaving the leader to sort his business, which sure weren’t small.

She found herself slowly trailing down the stairs of the building, her red blanket trailing behind her with the swoosh of the night breeze. The weather wasn’t humid, wasn’t dry either, just lukewarm and pleasant. Still, probably due to her tiresome schedule, something was off about it. There was a mild disturbance in the air, something about her stride was too fast, and people around her minded their own business when they felt so far away from her.

Right before leaving the small building, she noticed that the main door had no knob to open it with. She turned to a maid hurrying around the lobby. “Excuse me, miss! Ex– excuse me?”

The blonde woman halted her frantic race to look at Uraraka, a basket of dirty clothes to wash on her arms. “Is there anything you need?”

“Well, I wonder how… I know this may sound stupid but,” she signaled at the door behind her with a thumb, smile bashful and the other hand clutching the blanket around her. She also realized her hat was gone. “how do you open the front door? Do I have to push it open? I feared it would–“

The maid arched an eyebrow at her after looking behind her shoulder. “Miss, I’m afraid there must be a mistake.”

She pointed at the door, and Uraraka was met with a silver knob shinning teasingly under the lights of the candle chandelier above them. Her breath staggered in her mouth, swirled and got heavy like lead, falling down her stomach and crushing any sense of tranquility inside of her. Her thoughts, her little antics and whatever spark in her doe eyes faded to black, and her jaw trembled, shivered and cackled against her upper teeth.

The maid wasn’t there anymore, only the feeling of being forcefully scraped out of the world and everything felt even odder than before, drearier, and all she could wonder was how the situation had gotten to this point. It had to be the timeline being messed up again – concluded she, gulping a big bubble of thick realization, eyes wide as saucers. The walls crumbled, the paintings fell and the maid disintegrated to flesh and bones, no more a woman, but a corpse.

This situation was… wrong. It was wrong in so many levels.

The sorcerer slowly touched the doorknob and finally released a load of relief when it didn’t bite her, or burnt her skin. She twisted it and she didn’t even bother looking behind her to watch the maid leave, just high tailed it out and closed the door behind her.

The small village was soaring to life, apparently. There was this small bonfire near her, at the center of the village, and some stands of warm food and little silly games were put around her zone. Her eyes drank from the orange flicker of the torches, ears tingling when she heard childish laughter – a few children came running near her, and she had to step away before they crushed her, all with a smile. The moon was high in the horizon, stars covered by some clouds, but it was beautiful in every way.

Her orbs roamed, her body idle, and when her eyes landed on a little tent, she snapped and her heart jumped. Some building away from hers stood a little purple tent, beady with crystals and lacking a door, just a curtain to let curious wanderers in. If she was insistent enough, a small quantity of incense could be noticeable.

Her feet made the way to the tent without the sorcerer really realizing it, and Uraraka found herself peeking from the curtain. Inside, there was only a little table, two candles lit with blue fires, and a deck of cards. The small breeze made her hair sway with the gentleness of its caress. She tucked a strand behind her ear before speaking out.

“Hello? Good night… I am–“

“Welcome, dear.”

Uraraka was near to smacking a hinge off the fabric tent when the woman made an appearance in a cloud of mist, her head cocked to a side after seeing the little girl so shaken. Darkness embraced her like a second skin, the lights wrapping around her clothes in a mysterious, whimsical aura of obiquity and deep intentions, covered by a veil. All Uraraka could make out of her was her infinite trail of black hair, impolite porcelain skin and a black dress. And the thought of the woman unconsciously hiding her identity only made Uraraka feel further away from this world, tucked safely on this very small tent where incense fleeted on a thick cloud of dense air, hard to pin down but still offputting.

“I’m glad you came.” again, it was like a golden thread of smooth silk touching her, that voice. It was enticing and pleasant to hear. “Not much people entrust their lives with oracles these days. Your eyes though… seem troubled.” she took a break before saying these words. “And exhausted.”

Uraraka tangled her fingers on the back of her head and rubbed, rubbed, because those eyes of hers were echoing so hard into hers, and the air was again, too thick. She couldn’t see them move, yet she could feel her as if she was an inch away from her. “Ah, well, I didn’t have much sleep tonight, miss. I was walking around here and saw this little place.”

“Tell me, young girl.” she reached out and lifted Uraraka’s chin up, and she didn’t put much of a fight. “What is it that troubles you?”

The sorcerer shuddered under her touch, and felt some kind of void when the woman busied her hands in shuffling the tarot cards. Whoever this oracle was, she had this power to draw information from her ever so easily. Her voice was soft and sweet like honey, but intentions and movements sharp like a razor blade. Still, the incense tingled around her, calming these feelings down.

“Well, I have been having these… weird dreams, nightmares. It can be any of both, really, but they follow the same theme, the same story.” Uraraka crossed her arms, trying to remember vivid images of it all. But all she could see now was a smiling girl, sunflowers in her hands and bloodstains on her dress. “I don’t know who it is about… I see it all as a spectator, as an omnipotent force who can do nothing but stare.”

“Dreams and nightmares, a classic.” the woman laid the deck on the table, and folded her arms beneath her chest. “If you are having these occurrences, it means that something is calling out for you. Tell me, could they be something akin to lost memories?”

“I… I don’t believe that to be the case.” despite that being the only likely scenario, Uraraka found herself ending up denying the possibility. “I never woke up with any sense of recollection, or bonds for that matter. The feelings fade from the memory fast, but they leave scars. I can feel it all,” she raised her shaking hand to the light of a candle, black swallowing her palm, and then closed it. No sense of completion got to her, so she mourned in silence. “but it’s all like a far away feeling… I get this inkling it all may have to do with my dreams.”

The woman had listened obediently and nodded, it was her turn to play her role now. “I see, I can understand the trouble. Do you wish to make them disappear?”

Uraraka recalled having heard names from people she knew in those wild sets of dreams, adding fuel to the fire. “I’d want to find out what they mean, and then get rid of them, if it’s possible.”

The woman chuckled, but it wasn’t an evil kind of laugh. “It is possible, dear.” her hands disappeared from the table, and Uraraka’s breath was again dancing inside her lungs, stuck, when she drew out an ivory knife, golden handle and black dots on the back. “I will need a droplet of your blood.”

She took the sharp knife with dainty hands, testing its weight, and Asui’s lessons suddenly came to mind. “Do you plan to create some kind of potion with it?”

“Not exactly.” the oracle hit the deck to even all the cards, and tapped it twice. “These cards shall tell what those dreams mean, for which I will need to identify you. Your blood is all I need.”

Used to specific information, accurate data and loads of nearby facts, somebody being this vague struck hard in her, and she found herself feeling wrong in this place. The smell of incense and tightness was squeezing her heart in a vicious clap, all swirling around her madly as she stood in the eye of the hurricane. It was wrong, but at the same time, what could she do in this situation?

The girl sighed, dedicated a last look at the oracle, and cut the back of her palm with the knife. Rich, crimson blood started flowing out of it steadily, and when the oracle pushed the deck near to her, Uraraka tightened her palm into a fist and a newborn drop fell on the deck. As soon as the blood touched the deck, it vanished into a little puff of burnt paper, leaving only two cards on the table.

“These two will tell you all information you need to know.” condemned the oracle, her eyes swirling around Uraraka’s– and god, she could feel everything in this room sharpening, making her feel light-headed, and somewhere along the way her recollection of even entering this place left her. “We will lift the first card, now.”

Her nails scraped the table, then flipped the card. Uraraka recognized it, and the view left her speechless for a second, a shadow setting behind her eyes as fear and horror soaked her whole.

“The Hanged Man.” spoke the oracle, solemnly. When the sorcerer didn’t even ask about it, she lifted an eyebrow at her. “No need to alarm. There are no cards that are directly negative, but since this affects your dreams, I reckon you should be paying more attention to them.”

“What…” her heart shrunk in her ribcage, eyes staring in disbelief at the glaring image. Her hand fisted the blanket around her. Uraraka only knew that the oracle’s voice had turned somewhat colder, only lukewarm, and heartfelt. “what is this supposed to mean?”

“A crossroad.” she took the card with two hands and showed it to the shivering girl. The image boomed inside the girl’s dampening mind, drunken in incense and high on clashing emotions that had her heart near an arrest. The fires lit up against the card. “A road that will have you make a decision. There will come a moment in your life when you will have to make a decision– an important one.”

“A… decision.” whispered Uraraka, her brow knit but trembling in confusion as danger thrived in a far away place from this, a very different time and very different circumstances. Her eyes drifted to a corner to not let this compelling sentence crush her, and the oracle nodded curtly. “What does this have to do with my dreams?”

“Your dreams are trying to guide you through your decision. They are posing different the options you may not see now, but you which you will see in the future. Someday, you will have to face a choice. And it may not make you happy, or others for that matter.” murmured the oracle, yet her voice blared in the other’s ears.

So she shifted her hands on her lap and let it all sink in slowly, letting the thread leisurely snap inside of her, letting bleakness and obscure colors sneak up on her. “I… see.”

The oracle checked on her for a second, then flipped the next and last card when Uraraka nodded at her to proceed. The view afterwards pleased Uraraka to an extent, but the feeling dimmed quickly when the oracle only stared deep in thought. When the oracle caught the sorcerer shifting her eyes between her and the cards, a long sigh escaped her lips and fanned the veil.

“The Hierophant.” judging by her solemn tone, that wasn’t good news. However, she was now avoiding Uraraka’s inquisitive irises, which were searching for clues in the oracle’s hidden expression. There was a ghost of a grimace in her voice. “It comes to affirm all I have been told to this very moment.”

Uraraka tiptoed around the topic carefully, and doubted about what to say next. She found her ground a solid minute later. “What… does it mean?”

“It means making a choice. A good, correct choice.” responded the oracle, her tone dripping with grieving and sheer disgrace. Despite this card being shinier and overall more positive than the last one, she was talking about it as if it was a pure curse. Her presence loomed over Uraraka as darkness peeked again. “It means stopping for a second, breathing and rethinking about which is the good choice.”

“As in, backtracking?”

“Kind of.” agreed she. The black haired oracle stared at the cards, now set on the table, then back at Uraraka. She let out a loud grunt after a while, and if the sorcerer could tell with perfect certainty, she would swear teeth were glistening underneath the veil. “You will be confronted with a very tough decision, which may be why your dreams exist in the first place– to guide you to the right decision.”

“But…” her eyes were shadowed by a sad frown and a slight descent of her plump lips, her face a ghost of the cheery girl she always was as a grim foreshadowing hovered over her head and settled over her shoulders, responsibility breaking her heart. “what is the right decision?”

“I’d say that’s up to you to decide. If the cards insist this much on this decision, it must be a very important one.” theorized the oracle, tracing the hem of the cards carefully. Uraraka nodded intently, her eyes flickering in intensity under the blanket of incense. “The cards seem to sense a relationship between your dreams and your future, so they are building up until the day this decision comes. Again, if the cards are so adamant on this… the world could very well be resting on your shoulders.”

Those last words shook her and it felt like a little knife brushing her skin, tender and slow, up and down, as it loomed around her for a surprise strike. Danger was always so close to her, showing its claws in oh, so many ways… yet, it would never present her with the reality that so many pointed at her. Everything… it all just looked like a dream, or a nightmare– she couldn’t decide, but it seemed like all she could do now was wait for time to come to her.

Not like it helped the situation, knowing that a responsibility she didn’t understand hung on her shoulders an unknown number of days, weeks or months away. It was all so ambigue and uncertain it left Uraraka wondering if she should believe all this woman was saying, but decided to stick to it as a burning pole, blistering her skin and bruising her but serving as a flashlight in the darkness.

“I… see. Then, they are important, huh?” the oracle nodded, and Uraraka tried to wrap her mind around this fact, because they were nothing but a hassle that didn’t seem to have anything to do with her life. They weren’t really making that of an impact on her yet: just a little girl, a village, then another. What did she of all people have to do with that? “I still can’t see the relation between them… but I guess they will come in time, right?”

The oracle was too busy to actually listen to Uraraka, but she nodded anyway. Her hands fetched for a little flask under the table. She made the transparent liquid dance a little inside the doe-shaped recipient to test its volume, then handed it to the girl with… haste? Her hands had trembled when Uraraka had brushed them, and the oracle had been quick to wave her off. “Now, if you truly desire to erase those dreams from your mind, you must leave and drink that potion.”

The girl got up with newfound excitement, eyeing the colorless fluid in the flask. It was as like creamy water on a legendary bottle, and it felt so exciting to both have such recipient and the possibility to get rid of those nasty dreams. If there ever came a point that she needed to choose in an important matter, all she needed to do was listen to her heart. There was nothing her heart didn’t know, right?

“Thank you very much, miss!” she vowed gently as she always did, a smile dancing on her now energetic step. “I hope we can meet someday!”

Before Uraraka could head out the curtains, the oracle offered her the fateful cards. “Take them, so you can remember this time. Save them as reference, they may save your life one day.”

The sorcerer blinked at the weird request, and didn’t miss the shiver on the stoic woman’s arm. She leaped to the table again and took both cards under the fire of blue, quiet lights, purple fabric covering them as a quiet deal was stuck. “I will take them then, if you may.”

The brunette put them inside one of her uniform’s pockets and waved at the oracle again, smiling brilliantly now that her problems seemed to be stepping down from their stages, little by little. Her mind was a pure clean slate of purity, no spikes or cracks of imperfection clouding her mind aside from the invisible floating loom of responsibility, but she would put it aside for now.

“Thanks, miss! I hope we will cross paths again!”

Uraraka saw the oracle wave at her from behind, and she pushed the curtain aside and stepped out, stopping once she was outside to look at the recipient and uncork it. Her feet were visible from inside the tent.

“I will take this now then, before going to sleep.” her head turned to look at the fair at the center of the village, which was starting to swarm with people. She shook her head with a smile of contentment, but inwardly disappointed at having missed the fair when it was mildly tolerable. There were too much people around for her, so she just decided to call it a day, finally, and looked down at the recipient, which gleamed to a torch’s fire.

Uraraka giddily brought the liquid to her lips, feeling the cold potion fall down her throat slowly, making its way to–

The second one drop made its way into her stomach, her whole body quivered and started stinging, shaking uncontrollably as an insufferable pain shot out from her head to all parts of her body, hurt and acid scratching her mind with fire claws, drawing blood from her brain and making it fall down her nose as Uraraka stumbled, and gripped one of the poles of the tent for support.

Her eyes filled with tears as her vision blurred and blood pooled on her arms. Within a blink and a pained, moaned cough, Uraraka’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground as blood still flowed out of her and started staining her cheeks and hairs. Her eyes were open, seeing the building where she slept so in her reach yet, as she outstretched her hands and tried to crawl back to the beaten track, her strength faltered and she gave up the fight.

Her eyes closed, and her body stayed limp in front of the tent for two seconds before the oracle came out of her little place. She shook her head at the being laying on her doorstep and squatted down to her side.

She rummaged through her pockets to find one of the cards she had given her, and stared at it before looking at the people of the village, too far away to notice the crime. The oracle took the card and stood up again, giving Uraraka’s motionless body a kick. It wouldn’t take much time before somebody found the body.

The flailed the card a little bit and frowned at the unconscious girl. “Destruction girl,” she spat right by her. “disaster sorcerer.”

A few minutes later, the tent was out of sight, as was the tarot card with the image of the Hierophant, burnt to ashes in front of Uraraka’s right hand.

“Lie her on the bed, now!”

Todoroki and Mina quickly laid the little unconscious girl on the bed as the others ran to the threshold, where Midoriya tried to keep them at bay. When Jack was denied the entrance, she frowned at the leader and banged the door frame with her trembling fist. “What the hell, let us in! What’s wrong with her?”

The knight sighed and trembled, stood and gulped to keep himself in check against the agitated crowd of people. Only a few members had been admitted into the room so Asui’s work wouldn’t be haltered, and it seemed like it would take them a little bit more than words to actually understand that. “We… don’t know. Mina came across her body a few minutes ago and we haven’t given Asui enough time to check her conditions. Please, go to bed and we will sort this out overnight.”

“Midoriya, you can’t be serious!” the leader looked at Iida patronizingly. As time moved forward and people started to jam-pack the corridors, the boy grew more and more irritated– and it was such a rare thing to see in the leader, a flash of vexation at the unfair situations.

Nobody knew what had happened, really. When Mina had seen a body laying on the now empty area, her first initiative had been to try and shake the body awake, thinking that it could be a drunk little girl taking a reckless nap– but then the hair, the smell of her skin and the color of her gloves, it all dawned on her, and she had let out a horrifyingly terrified shriek that had called Todoroki and Kirishima over, and they hastily carried the decaying corpse to the nearest room.

She could be dead for all they knew, and a chill ran down everybody’s spines when the possibility came into mind. Her body was so light, her gasps for air so sharp and frantic, and her hands would tremble now and then, and the loll of her head into a tragic angle of uncertainty that had everyone at the edge of their seats. The critical situation had left everyone in a state of loss and worry that was only going on crescendo as Midoriya blocked the door.

“Only us few will remain as to not collapse the infirmary, but we are sure it’s nothing severe.” and yes, this was a big fat lie, as nobody could really go that far and confirm such madness so soon. He heard busy chatter around him, which prompted the boy to grasp the knob to close the door. “We will inform you all of the situation next morning. For now, rest assured we will do as much as possible to sort this out.”

With that, everyone dropped their shoulders and Midoriya took that as his cue to close the door, and he lay on it with a bead of sweat running down his temple. Who had told him to go and confront the crowd had no idea of how nervous the boy grew with these situations.

“You look troubled, Midoriya.” commented Todoroki, sitting on a chair right next to Uraraka. One of his hands rested on the mattress, close to Uraraka’s in case she had a crisis. Asui sorted the potions with hurry behind him. “Do you think they will manage to rest with this situation in their hands?”

“The thing is, it’s not something they can meddle with now.” Kirishima helped Asui with the arrangements, searching for something the girl had requested as he spoke. “It depends on Asui to identify what the fuck happened to our little lady.”

Asui, for the first time in years, actually frowned at the redhead and took a little syringe from her bag. “Ribbit, don’t put more responsibility on my shoulders than what I have already.” she strode to her body and, after a few little touches on her forehead and checking her eyes from underneath her lashes, she took one of her hands. “She has a cut here.”

Mina checked on the torn skin with curious eyes, as did Midoriya who was next to her. “What a weird place to have a cut. It’s so…”

“Precise.” intervened the leader with a growl. “Could somebody have used her own blood against her?”

Asui was already extracting some blood from Uraraka’s forearm – all thanks to Todoroki who rolled up her sleeve – critically fast. Just as the crimson liquid started to flood the syringe, the girl frowned again. “No, the wound is not the issue here, nor is her own blood.”

Asui hurried to her table on a side of the room, and arranged a little bent paper on a disk. The girl pushed on the syringe and, as the first droplet fell, she knew something was wrong. The liquid climbed fast through the filter paper, to the point in which there was no blood remaining on the disk, it had all gone through the paper. The sorcerer gave it a little shake, nibbled on the wet edges, and threw it to the disk again.

“Hot blood.” announced Asui hastily, pressing her hands to Uraraka’s pulse. It was slow, but throbbed against the girl’s sensitive skin. “Her heart is having problems carrying it around her system, it’s thickening.”

Mina, having been around her lessons with Kirishima, was quick to identify the source of this problem. “Poison.”

The mutant nodded. “And whoever who poisoned her wanted her dead on the spot.” she coaxed the brunette’s mouth open gripping her jaw, and passed a gloved finger along her tongue. There was something slimy glued to it, cold. Asui had a faint clue of what this could be, but she wouldn’t be sure of what poison it was until she tested the substance.

The water sorcerer dipped her glove on a disk with water and saw the disk be infested with bubbles and oh, that very familiar purple hue. “A nitoria posion. Brash enough for a murderer.”

“You are joking, right?” Mina stepped to the table and gasped when the disk started melting on the edges. “Please, don’t tell me–!”

A loud moan of pain was heard across the room which had everyone getting up from their seats and chairs falling, as Uraraka’s body arched off the bed and her chest started panting with hurtful intakes of toxic air, her head trashing on the pillow while her head darted from side to side. Her brows were drawn to a painful knitted grimace.

Bakugou, who stood looking out the window, craned his head to look at the ruckus, and frowned wordlessly.

Asui, however, seemed by far less alarmed than her crew. “Nitoria poisons have antidotes, and as this was made to be apparently healthy and hard to notice, its effects are dimmed by the quantity of additives in it.” nobody understood a word of what she said excepting antidote and healthy, and their faces were mirrors of this fact. “I can cure her, no worries. In the meantime, restrain her from making too harsh movements. Convulsions are fairly normal at this stage of the intoxication.”

As easy as that, everyone but Bakugou cooperated on the operation, gripping her arms and legs to the bed no matter how much she trashed or crumbled under their steel grasp. The pharmacist was rushed by the alarmingly loud gasps of Uraraka, how her peers were struggling to hold her tight no matter how hard they bit on their lips, or how they muttered words of encouragement under Uraraka’s piercing little screams of pain– all under her unconscious, yet seemingly only slumber state.

“She’s regaining consciousness, Asui!” warned Mina, her irises starting to move too much in their sockets as something started racketing in that jumping mind of hers. “We need to find an antidote before she wakes up! The nitoria–“

“Yes, yes, I know!” exclaimed the other stressfully. If Uraraka reached consciousness before the poison was diluted in her bloodstream, it would devastate her mind beyond humankind’s imagination– additives as boosters for side effects, decreasing the degree of lethality yet reaching and branching through the sorcerer’s darkest corners of her mind. “I just need a second!”

Asui was sweating bullets by now, her hands trembling in the middle of the night to find a cure for this madness. Her fingers deftly worked through samples, substance that could render the poison useless in minimum time. She stroked fruits, mashed leaves with the help of Kirishima’s hardened fists. The convulsions on the dying body were fading away little by little, making the straining easier while Bakugou only listened and fisted his hands, stroking the fabric of his pants to bite in swears of stress.

Once the yellowish substance on Asui’s flask stopped bubbling, the girl let out a little squeal of hurry and charged the syringe with the cure. “Got it, ribbit!” she wasted no second on carrying her feet as fast as possible to the bed, swatting hands away to roll the sorcerer’s sleeves up and plump in the needle.

As the liquid entered Uraraka’s bloodstream, the convulsions died to only minor shudders and eventual twitches, which also disappeared within seconds and only left a sleeping, tired girl at its wake. Her hands limped, fingers heaving down, and her breath grew sturdy and regular under everyone’s pendant eyes. These very relieved members fell on the nearest source of support they could find.

Kirishima decided to limp on the floor and start chuckling to himself in success, and then laughed under his breath as heat flared on his face, heated from the rush of danger. He watched Asui crawl on the edge of Uraraka’s bed, right next to a sitting Todoroki. “You are a pure legend, Asui!”

As the herbalist tried her best to push her pulsations to a normal beat, breath heaving in and out of her lungs. The dual knight gave her shoulder a proud shake, the feeling evident on his smile as the herbalist nodded back, smiling in sheer happiness and relief. “Well done, Asui.”

“My god! That was a nerve-wrecking operation.” the pink archer eyed Uraraka, exhausted, and hoisted her whole weight on Midoriya’s back. “Will she be alright now?”

Still breathing heavily, trying to ride off the hurry and letting the strings of time go back to their place, she placed a hand on Uraraka’s moist forehead. “She may get a mild fever as her body tries to digest the poison, but other than that, she will survive.”

Everyone in the room let out a general breath of final allevation, giddy smiles directed at the tired doctor who only tried to recover from the rush. As a tranquil pace of united heartbeats and collective silence floated on the thinning air of midnight, a little question remained in between them.

“I’d suggest somebody keeps guard on our sick lady here.” Kirishima placed a hand on the girl’s forehead, and brushed off the sweat on his pants. “She’s soaked in sweat, and will probably need some aid if she wakes up.”

Midoriya’s first option to offer was Asui– of course, it was always her. The herbalist had always been a dependable person when days grew grim, when situations like these were critic and someone was needed to take the wheel other than the very able leaders, who were at a loss of what to do. This was a new member they were talking about– an important one at that. Having her fall under a illness and be left unattended would probably make this situation drag for longer than necessary. And that, right now, was a hazard where one could see it.

“I am not going to offer Asui for the job, and I hope no one dares to– because she is further than exhausted.” which was a point everyone agreed on. She had had to look after Kaminari, Uraraka and Bakugou in the same day, one of them actually twice, and rest off the exhaustion from the fight against Midnight. “And I know all of us are exhausted, but I–“

“I will take care of it.”

The small voice came from the window, where a very tense Bakugou stood and, when he felt all eyes on his ample back, he turned with a grimace on his jaw, teeth clenched.

“What the fuck’re you all gawking at?”

“You wanna…” his hands pointed at Uraraka, to which the fierce leader nodded softly, getting the point in the angriest version of a bashful pout. “take care of her?”

Asui and Midoriya blinked at the blonde, who was looking at a side of the room with his usual wall of unaffected emotions, controlled feelings and cautioned actions, all his blinks and heartbeats measured to a minimum so

they wouldn’t betray his true thoughts. He then glared at everyone in the room, including the panting corpse on the bed– actually, he practically glowered at her, because he always found himself either depending from her porcelain hands or saving her ass, and he despised that cycle.

He was more than bothered with this situation of owing something to her when he actually felt like he didn’t, so he needed to get it over with.

He felt Asui’s softened eyes on him, and then his eyes trailed to the other leader. “I owe this to her.”

“What do you–“

“She has been looking after me after the fight with that fucking necromancer, and I never had to tell her even twice to care the slightest bit about me. If anything, I gave her reasons to hate my guts.”

Bakugou strode to the center of the room and kicked a stool into place, slamming his ass on the wooden seat right before Uraraka. Kirishima smiled at his best friend with a gentle spark of pride in his eyes, seeing the brash boy he knew start tearing the walls of his grudges down little by little, and trying to show that he could be kind when the situation forced him to. And even when it wasn’t really that way.

“She’s strong for putting up with me and saving my life, more than once.” commented the blonde, staring at the girl’s closed lids absent-mindedly. “And this is my way of thanking her.”

Asui propped her head up to gape at the once stubborn, pain in the ass leader and only saw a close to caring leader, and it caused her to smile a little at him in the darkness of the room.

“Little Nameless, this is something you must do for us.” assured a pink man by her. He didn’t squat – anymore, noted the little girl, as she had grown and she didn’t need those petty things anymore. They stood on the back of a room where a light breeze flew, sometimes toying with her cut strands. Light streamed down on her, sounds of people on their thrones waiting for her.

Chains sounded as well from within the tumult, which snapped her back into reality. “But papa, I don’t know that man!”

“Which is a miracle itself, considering what that man has done to our village with his knives and words.”

Shadows, shadows, creeping around the edges of her starlit eyes, galaxies dying on her heartstrung broken irises. Out of the edge of her mind, she was screaming to set these things back into rightness, but all she could do in such virginal state of ignorance was scream at the void like a fool, and feel something cracking at her fingertips. The whole world was swirling around her like a thunderwave, all spinning as voices mixed and chains clashed.

She was… so, so helpless. “Dad, why would you want me of all people to execute this order?”

The pink man did squat this time– probably to make her feel higher in the power scale, so she would feel mighty and confident enough to actually carry out this scarring task. “You are the only one who can do this, Nameless.” and she had heard this one time and another, plenty of times already. It was such a tiring charade. “You know this.”

“I…” she didn’t. “do.”

Because this power she had, it was all but normal. She herself was abnormal, kept as a treasure in her civilization but looked at as a monster from time to time, when the sun peaked in a corner of the sacred minds. Some would scream when her hands dig too deep into nature’s butter– others, they would let her be.

This time, they would not let her be, but encourage her to release the monster from the cage. “Then, go out there and face the court. You can do it, hon.”

The girl was given a little push, then taken steadily to the big room that was the court. The walls were crowded with staged seats, rampaging people pointing at the wonder girl as a man on the center of the room, staying on an ivory stage and tied with chains to a pole– he was screaming at a muffler on his mouth, then spitting on her from his silenced hell.

Her father stood near to her as the girl bunched the fabric on her shirt, nervousness crawling around her like the nasty monster she was. Words spiraled around her, something about her carrying out the right choice. Odd dots of pale colors– human colors, they splashed the room in bright diversity, yet she feared what this would do to the fragile bond between the races.

Her father tapped her shoulder, reality blurring around her as she tried to keep her thoughts at bay. This was like a band-aid, she knew, it was only a matter of tugging it off with enough force so it would hurt quick and short. Her hands were trembling when she rose her stretched fingers to the stranger, who screamed at her in pure agony.

“An…” Nameless panted, choked in disgust at what she was going to do, and withdrew her hand from the torture procedure. But, as sense of pride and duty flooded over her, she was able to call out the spell. Echo boomed from behind her, knocking some hats off their owners as she whispered the dreaded word. “Anihilation.”

Nameless twisted her hand with a pained grimace as the man twisted to her desire, his blood accordingly boiling and piercing his burning flesh as the humans on the room screeched at the display, hugging their families for dear life and hurrying out of the room along with some other people from her species, the smell of rotten skin and broken bones overwhelming her to a extent that the brunette gave into her knees, and fell to the ground in exhaustion.

“Good girl, Nameless…” he gripped her shoulder a bit stronger, her father, and ruffled her hair. She coughed a smile, nodding emotionlessly. “Good job.”

A blond, red-eyed boy watched from afar, eyes wide in terror as he stared at the broken girl with a shudder.

“Bakugou, Kacchan.”

The blonde leader snapped his head up with the gentle sound of Midoriya’s calling. He groaned in frustration as his head lolled back, and he let himself look a little bit vulnerable by scrubbing his eyes awake. He still played it off as if he hadn’t been dozing off. “What the hell, you scared the shit outta me.”

Midoriya, with an arm tucked around a big volume and a bashful smile on full display, rubbed his shoulder for some comfort and sat on the girl’s bed. “She’s still sleeping, huh?”

The green-haired knight removed an stray lock of hair off her reddened cheeks, his touch barely stronger than a caress. A small grow reverberated from deep within his chest. “Little witch here has been trashing around a little bit. She’s calmed down for now.”

“Well, if she’s getting better, that’s all that counts.” the boy realized the cloth around Uraraka’s forehead had been dampened, and Midoriya knew for a fact that nobody had come to switch guards yet that night. He smiled knowingly. “It’s good to see she’s in good hands.”

The knight gingerly took the cloth to cool if off, all while Bakugou stared at the girl’s closed eyes with a piercing glare of anger and frustration. “Better have her getting better soon so we can part, rather than me biting my own tail and being a dick to her. I am more responsible than that, bastard.”

Despite the insult, Midoriya chuckled from Asui’s medical table. The sloshing of the water was all that could be heard in the building, so late in the night. “Yeah, I know.” he turned his head a bit to watch Bakugou’s hunched position, and if he had to bet, he’d say he hadn’t gotten up from that chair ever since the last change. “Who was the last person who came to watch Uraraka?”

“Alien girl.” spat Bakugou, shifting on the chair to adopt a confident position: crossed arms, crossed legs, and his glare switching to the other leader. “And you ain’t gonna take the turn yet.”

“Shouldn’t you get up for a while and, I don’t know, sleep? If you don’t rest, you’ll miss the festivities tomorrow.” the hunter mentally swatted him away quickly, chuckling in denial while his bones ached for mercy. He was biting the insides of his cheeks for some comfort– the chair was uncomfortable, the situation worse and his body totally messed up. He hadn’t felt this mentally exhausted for a while. “Why take this business so far, Kacchan?”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that again, loser.” moonlight filtered through the half closed curtains, bathing Bakugou in this light that was so enticingly perfect to fall asleep on the arms of the sick girl. He couldn’t lie: at the stage he was in, he could have fallen asleep on the mattress where she laid and not even think about later regrets. “I am her leader. And I owe this to her personally. I don’t really think none of you will take this serious other than me.”

“C’mon, that’s a blatant lie.”

Bakugou’s eyes burnt even brighter than before, his fangs gleaming. He would have gotten up if his legs were responsive enough– but they weren’t, and it was driving him up the fucking wall. This shitty girl was always troubling his daily life and he didn’t want to feel compromised with her, above all not in this way. He didn’t owe her anything, he had no reason to be there other than sheer responsibility.

“Don’t bark at me, it’s true.” Midoriya sighed, and turned to the leader to walk to them afterwards, his hands leaving the cloth on her forehead slowly. He stroked the blue fabric onto her forehead, eliciting a little groan from her. “You have never taken matters this far when it comes to any regular member, other than Kirishima.”

“She ain’t a regular member. Not in any way.”

“Not like you are trying to see her in any other way, Bakugou.”

This made the leader make an effort to stand up and go pound the living lights out of that nerd, but his knees buckled and he had to sit down again under Midoriya’s concerned gaze.

“I know what you are insinuating, and what everybody’s probably thinking, but I don’t give a fuck about her.” he forced his eyes on her, traced the curve of her little nose, and sighed grumpily. “Seriously, I don’t. But she has gone out of her way several times to actually care about me when I didn’t ask. I have said this before: I am thanking her for that.”

“But you still feel like you shouldn’t, right?” Bakugou glared at his peer from under his disarrayed spikes, night shadows crossing behind his eyes. It was silent warning. “Your voice is so strained, your back is probably aching. You don’t want to go through this, yet you are.”

The blonde allowed himself a sigh of tiredness, and blinked at him in unusual tranquility. Being so drained was doing unmerciful things on his mood, and it seems like Midoriya would take advantage of that until he snapped back into his aggressive old self. “I loathe feeling in debt for this bitch, because I shouldn’t. No one gave her the right to care about me, or put herself in danger. Now, I have to thank her, as a leader, and get her ass out of this trouble.”

“Is it really that? Just plain justice and the sake of being a leader?”

“Why am I talking about this with you of all people?”

“Because she has been like this for a whole day– more like two considering we are here past midnight.” his eyes found kindness in Uraraka’s relaxed figure, finally idle and breathing without coughs or heavy sweat. “You have tried to kill her, you have dismissed her– but you are here, Kac– Bakugou, watching after her. What changed from being a dick to her to now actively want to see her healthy?”

“For starters, my opinion about her remains unchanged at the root.” he was tired, he was letting Midoriya tug at the thread that got his thoughts stuck in a vicious cycle of autodestruction and doubt– but for a reason, he didn’t feel bad about it. Not a single bit. “I still think she is a threat, but it’s true she hasn’t moved against our currents yet, other than be stupid and overwork herself. Other than that, she can work in our favor, and even I can see that now.”

“So, you care about–“

“No.” snapped the blonde, red suns spiraling and changing under the pressure of this crashing tide. “I don’t think I can actively care about someone to this personal level. She benefits our guild, her being in good shape is good for the showdown against RampAge, and I owe to her. That’s all there is to it.”

“I still think you owe her much more than this, and that’s only for putting up with your remarks and stupidity when you feel like bullying her.” Midoriya would have been backed to a wall after such insult, but Bakugou was being silent, observing the girl with a clashing mixture of hatred and frustration. He was only listening to his companion unfocusedly, as he let all his petty feelings slowly sink in. “She has done nothing else but put up with your foul mood and actually fight you back. Really, she must be tired from resisting the urge to slap you on the face.”

“I don’t owe her any fucking thing in that regard.” snapped Bakugou, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “All she does is put me into trouble and try to be nice to me– I never asked for all that. She is attempting to–“

Midoriya bit on his knuckles as he stifled in a good earful on respect and kindness, something the leader could lack very often. “Stop seeing her kindness as a freaking attack, Kacchan. She just wants to be in this guild and be on good terms with you.”

“Stop it, it ain’t worth it to scream at me over this. Asui already has, in her way, and I am working on it. I am here, withstanding this hell so I don’t owe to her. I don’t owe her anything– I should never owe anything to a damn pest like her.” argued Bakugou, encasing himself in this bubble of hard ideals and a truth he couldn’t come to terms with, but it was there, in his hands. “I don’t wanna feel lied to anymore, I am working to fix this for the guild’s welfare.”

The anger in Midoriya’s eyes faded to a pale hue of surprise. “So, you want to try to trust her?”

Bakugou waited for a bit, rethinking his decisions with sharp eyes. Still, he had gone over it so many times already that the charade was getting tiring, and it was more worth it to actually try to be nice to her than find a reason to hate her after all she has done. She made his life so hard, sometimes.

He clutched the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart, where it ached worst. “I want to just get rid of this disgusting feeling of having to thank her for something I didn’t ask for. I wanna stop feeling this stupid, I shouldn’t even be here. She is a goddamn silly bitch who knows nothing else but trouble.”

The other boy blinked several times, staring at Bakugou’s tired shoulders and how his eyes would flicker ever so often at the girl in decreasing loathe, and more directed to worry for her wellbeing as a guild member he had acknowledged, someone he was starting to value as worth keeping. His hands could crawl their way out of his bruised heart, shadows casted on his lonely soul, but the rampage of thought and tranquility this girl had inflicted on him could be denied, but no longer ignored.

Midoriya could now understand why Uraraka shone so much. She was giving everyone an opportunity in the same one everyone was doing with her– and she never had a reason, either. She was embracing everyone’s threats, everyone’s glares, everyone’s doubts, and walking her way out of them with a loud parade. For that, he deserved the kind leader’s admiration, so a little smile was directed at her.

“I will taking my leave then, Kacchan. However,” he left the volume from before on her nightstand, gave it a pat of reassurance as he knew Uraraka would love seeing possibilities and barriers grow, and retreated to the door. His eyes shifted to the leaning leader, whose eyes were droopy and weaker than usual, but still held that passionate gaze into the devil’s eyes. It was so charming to see those fires dim for once, prompting these words. “you should know that she isn’t causing any trouble to you. She is the one willingly putting herself on danger’s way, receiving the throws, and getting into problems. That… shouldn’t affect you this much, Kacchan.”

And with that, Midoriya chuckled at Bakugou’s dumbstruck expression of ire and tiny realization, closing the door behind him while the other crashed his head on the mattress, right beside Uraraka’s twitching hand– because he was right, in a way, and it only dawned on him that his little slip may have made him look more sick and foolish than he already was.

He groaned into the blankets. “Fuuuuck.”

But he didn’t care. Not even a pinch.

“Nameless, there’s somebody I want you to meet!”

The brunette girl turned from the well, more like kicked a bit so she wouldn’t fall inside and then turned at Kirishima’s voice calling after her. His step was quick, his red falling spikes bouncing in his stride while a blur of blonde hairs and pale skin also neared her. It took her a little bit to recognize that face– that face, sharp at the edges and bland in anger at the center, drawn in red and all suddenly made sense.

“You…” the blonde boy stopped and gulped after her voice chirped in, but frowned regardless. “You are the golden boy from the river! What are you doing here?”

Kirishima slapped a hand on his shoulder and grinned again, showing her his shining pearly whites before the other boy slapped the hand away as soon as it touched him. “He jumped across the river and asked me to take him to the girl with magic hands!” the fact that he knew such fact about her had her gulping this time around. “So here we are!”

The girl with muddy eyes took a step back, taking her bucket of water to her chest. Once upon a time, she would have needed help to reach the well’s edge, but it had been so long since then. Her reflection shone on the water. “How… how do you know about my abilities?”

“My people gave me a description of someone they are looking for, from their nation, who was lost a long time ago. She was a… magician, as well.” explained the blonde boy, fixated on how her hands trembled around the bucket. “So I can recognize a magician when I see one. This.. town can do that, right? Magic, I mean.”

The redhead nodded hastily, and put his fists on his hips with pride. “Our race has vast knowledge about sorcery, right, Nameless?” she nodded curtly, eyeing her hands shortly. “That’s what differentiates us from you humans, we can do lots of stuff!”

While Kirishima boasted about the abilities of their race – a race they bitterly didn’t seem to belong to, at least physically speaking – the blonde newcomer took a step forward until he made the girl flinch, and outstretched a hand towards her without actually looking into her blown wide eyes.

“I saw you at the court a few days ago… and I knew I had seen your stupid face, a few months ago.” that made her stifle in a gasp of horror, as she had never wanted to be seen as such monster– but seeing how he was fighting back an excited grin, corners twitching, he was more than fine with her powers. “What’s your name?”

The girl left the bucket of water on the ground, and curled her fingers around her jersey for internal decision. The boy was… giving her his hand? Did he want her to take it or something? She was around twelve years old now, but she hadn’t been educated into these things. However, she remembered that her pink dad had done that stupid gesture sometimes, and she decided to give it a little shake.

“I don’t have a name. And if I do, I don’t remember it. I was born without it apparently, and never given one.” despite the inner tragedy and later irony of the situation, she smiled at him sweetly, eyes closed in bliss for making a new friend. “I go by Nameless. And he is Kirishima. My sister, Mina, is not around now, but she should make an appearance now. She has the regular looks for our species.”

The golden boy glanced around and was proven right about that. Everyone had pink skin, lighter hair, spotless black eyes with a golden ring, and high-pitched voices. Some of them had big claws on their hands, others didn’t. Looking at Nameless and Kirishima, it really looked like they were making leaps and twirls about developing camouflage strategies, as they could be mistaken by someone from his species without a doubt.

If he hadn’t seen her come from across the river, he would have thought she was a human, too.

“The name’s Katsuki.” replied the boy, grumpy as she gave his hand a shake. He reciprocated the gesture. “Please don’t blow me up.”

It took her a while, but she actually understood the little joke and giggled, her little fit then erupting into gross loud laughter. It had been a while since she did that.

It would as well be the last time, rain falling harder that day as blood bathed her knees, a figure looming above her and–

Uraraka’s back bounced off the bed with the start of a heart attack jumping from behind at her, claws sprouting from her brain and giving it another hard, lovingly scratch of welling tears that never fell, tension that never broke and images that never made sense, feelings and people that shouldn’t be there and, however, she felt heartless and boneless whenever she woke up.

The aftermath of these dreams, nightmares and all kinds of havoc left her scarred a little bit more violent the more time that passed– her breaths would grow more staggering, her hands would clutch her heart stronger and her eyes would dart more dizzily around the room. While the effects and emotions from the experience would wear off fast, faces and ideas sure didn’t.

The fact that she couldn’t see the face of that little girl monster clearly was so confusing as well for her, because she was probably the most important piece of the story. An innocent girl with a pure soul, yet terrifying sorcery used for ill intentions. Was this supposed to be a metaphor about her?

Also… why had, of all people, he been there with–

She heard heavy breathing near her, and when she was able to focus her sight on her surroundings, a mane of pale hair came into view, sleeping right by her stretched legs. His muscles, tense and tight, hair unkempt and light snoring vibrating in his ribcage. Her eyes almost fell out of their sockets when she realized who this was, thinking about pinching herself to wake up from this vision.

What was Bakugou… doing there? He was sitting on a chair, yet his whole body was leaning on the bed as his head rested nestled on his strong arms, probably already given up on her waking up. How long had he been there? And again, why was he, of all people, there with her? The first thing she thought was that he was probably taking advantage of his sleeping problems to take the night shift and watch her, but why would he accept taking it in the first place?

Her hand hesitated, hovered above his head until they took the monumental step of touching his hair– touching him, in a sense, and threaded his messy locks into place with a placid smile of tranquility. Her other hand wiped some sweat off her forehead as the moon gloriously washed over the dark room. While her fingers played with his hair and he slept calmly near her, brown eyes glanced out the window shortly.

There was ruckus outside – she thought, eyes aimlessly trying to see further from the bed – and she wanted to see more of it.

As to not wake her sleeping vigilant, Uraraka slowly shifted on the bed and placed her feet on the cold floor. Her toes relished at the feeling of the flashy temperature, because her body was overwhelmingly hot and she couldn’t wait to get a change of clothes. She didn’t even dare sniffing herself, she would sure be raking sweat.

As the sorcerer walked around the bed and brushed past Bakugou, she giggled a little to herself, but then concerned her eyes on the slumbering boy. Again, what business did he have with her? Why would he even bother come to check on her? It was sad to know somebody didn’t entertain your presence even while being on civil terms, and it irked her to think this way. Still, she had done enough already to make nice with him, the ball was on his court now.

Uraraka’s body was engulfed by the moonlight. Bells of consciousness rung the numbness to go away, and she was suddenly blinking openly to the moonlight that loomed over the big window of her room. The night stars were shy and sneaky compared to this big cheese, twinkling timidly as part-time companions of the white angel. A sweet feeling of a breeze escalating up her spine made her skin tingle in delight as some music blared from outside, fires going off as shows and fights occurred as part of the nighttime fair.

And Bakugou missed it… to watch after her? Her head craned a little to eye his sleeping form, frown knit in confusion. He disliked her – concluded Uraraka, looking at the moon and fair once again – he must have been pressured to stay.

It was then when Uraraka remembered what had gone down with the oracle, when she spotted the vacant space at the corner of the fair– she wanted to slap herself for being so naïve, illusional, for letting a stranger so shady like that woman trick her. She had been as foolish as to even tell her about her secrets, those hideous dreams and nightmares, when Todoroki had clearly advised her to be careful.

She cradled her face on her hands and rubbed, then rubbed some more. The feeling of weight on her pockets reminded her of the cards and the misty bottle, for which she rummaged. Her fingers came in contact with one of the cards, yet as much as she fiddled around, the other card was long lost. As she took the card of the Hanged Man out, to the moonlight’s shade, something strung wrong in her heart.

“Why this one… where is the other one?” she palmed her other pocket, and only felt the shape of the bottle, yet no other card was found. The hand holding the card trembled. “What in the world…”

“What are you doing up?”

Her hand hurried in a messy blur to keep the card inside her pockets, spinning to see Bakugou groggily making his way to her. Uraraka made quick work to hold the shield up and cross her arms, starting her usual defensive pose of unaffection towards the leader. Still, there was no hostility in her eyes, or in his for that matter. “I woke up and heard the music from the festival.”

“Then go to bed again, you still need the fucking rest.” grunted the leader, scrubbing his eyes again to wake up. “We gotta part soon and you aren’t helping.”

But the strained edge in his voice and the dryness of his throat gave one too many things away. “You aren’t in the best of shapes either, master.” mocked she with an arched eyebrow. At this, he growled with a sideways glare. Uraraka didn’t know why he got so angry at her for releasing the feelings he stirred on her– feelings of protection, shielding, holding her ground against this beast. “You can take the bed, I am not going to–“

Her legs unexpectedly gave up under her, but she swiftly grabbed for the frame of the window to hold her. Bakugou’s hands had flinched for this, and he had no fucking idea why when he had known she could take care of herself. Being tired had never been so infuriatingly difficult before. “You are going to sleep. If you don’t fucking take care of yourself there is no use in taking you with us.”

“I am another warrior from this guild, Bakugou.” attacked Uraraka with a frown of her own, facing him directly. “Why am I being scolded over doing an effort–“

“This ain’t a damn effort, it’s no more than a strain in your development.” he crossed his arms, his eyes glimmering beneath the moon’s cradle. His jaw was clenched, chin up, and he suddenly looked like he was going to say something, then kept it in for a little more. He shook his head. “You are constantly doing things that aren’t needed, and we– I don’t want none of it.”

The blonde had made it sound personal in a second and it worried her– so much that she actually asked.

“Is there… anything I may have done to upset you, Bakugou?”

A low growl scraped his throat and constricted his vocal strings painfully, his fists tight as he spoke ever so clearly and demanding, scary and resolute. “I don’t want anything from you, got it? I don’t need your protection, your business with being kind and the like– I don’t need it.”

The girl flinched under his sudden glower, but recovered from the blow hell fast. “What’s wrong with me taking care of you or actually looking after your protection?”

Uraraka asked it so patiently and kindly that his heart plummeted and left a soaring trace of hurt pride behind– and something dangerous, atrocity and violence, it all came in full force to his eyes as he turned to look at her, stepping close to her in a second. She shot up a little as well, their glares sparking bolts and daggers to each other while Bakugou jabbed her shoulder accusingly and she slapped his hands away from her.

She should have known that her kindness would backfire, and stepped back from it when she still had time, back at the campfire. But she had given in to her generalized personality and now this happened.

“I don’t wanna owe anything to you, got it? I don’t give a fuck about you, I don’t need you in my life, your magic or your goddamn glitter that chases me everywhere I go.” barked he, not observing how her posture suddenly softened and her eyes widened the tiniest way. Since only a few inches separated them, he really should have. “I don’t owe you anything– I have watched over your sick ass for more than enough, I have changed your cloth and haven’t complained! This is my way of saying thank you from before and–“

“You sure can mumble and mumble like Midoriya when you are riddled, Bakugou.” commented she with this shocked face he detested on her because she knew better– she always knew better and he was suddenly feeling lied to again when he didn’t want it.

“That’s not the damn point!” yelled he. His hands mindlessly searched for his sword on his waist. “Just stop being like this. Stop giving me unwanted attention, stop trying to protect me, I don’t need it.” Bakugou took a deep breath to calm himself down, too quick to anger when he was this tired, and sighed with exasperation. “I don’t want it.”

When she didn’t strike him with a quick comeback the very same moment he shut up and stopped spluttering so much bullshit, he dared to look at her. Those bubbling eyes of hers somehow remained unchanged, looking at him as if he hadn’t said anything, her skin still sweaty and her smell still gross– he loathed that about her. No matter how much shit he tried to throw at her to keep her away, she was resilient and either fought back or ignored the attack.

He needed her to stay away. He didn’t need her in his life, he didn’t need a terrorist in his life to taunt his sanity. Uraraka was stupid, careless, naïve, sarcastic and too sassy to his liking. And yet, she was there. And he didn’t want it.

After a little silence, she spoke up again. “Such a shame, Bakugou, that you feel this way.” he thought she would finally give in and leave him alone. “I sadly won’t let up, though.”

But she didn’t. When he focused on her again, her irises were shining under the moon’s gleam and her skin was clean, yet damp and ferverish. She herself was a damn illness he would never recover from, a maniac with the hands of a fairy that was supposed to be proving his inner fears rights and destroying the world– not there, alone with him and sticking to his thorny side.

The brunette stung his pride with a little smile of hers, that shaky one that held no emotion other than mockery for him. “Why can’t you understand? I know you don’t really give a damn about me– and not gonna lie, it sucks that the feeling is unilateral.” hell yes, she at least got that right. “Still, you are another of my peers, and I will watch after your protection. No matter how much you push me away…”

Her head turned to his, eyes closed in tranquility and spoke as this was a universal statement. He was speechless for the first time in his life, words stuck as moonlight bathed her. “… I will care about you, dumbass. Even if you want me not to. You gave me a place to belong, and for that, I will always be kind to you all. Even if you don’t deserve my kindness, I still owe it to you.”

The echo of her words oozed into his bloodstream– but it didn’t make his skin boil, his heart hammer with anger or anxiety for this situation. Instead, his whole body stood there, calmly, as her words sunk in deeper and deeper than a mermaid lost in the labyrinth that the sea was, swimming into the darker abyss that was his heart as his shouts, curses and violence were reduced to shock and utter silence. His eyebrows were knit in confusion, yet a line of heartbreaking realization and surprise was there– and it made Uraraka smile a bit higher.

“Why do you do… this?” his words literally fell off, low and whispered in almost fear for what stupidity she would come up with.

“Care doesn’t have an actual reason, it’s just a feeling.” answered Uraraka, eyes closed in peaceful contemplation. “You have protected me as well from Shinsou, defended me against the village. And even without all that, with given time, I would have grown to care about you a little, as I do now.”

“But I don’t, and I am sick of feeling like I owe the world to you when I didn’t–“

“Ask for it?” finished she for him, and he nodded with something alike to desperation crossing his irises, tranquil like a shooting star but fading away fast, like a broken light. “Nobody asks to be cared for, you just receive it. I can take care of myself, so I don’t mind if you, of all people, don’t give a crap. It’s not like I expected you to.”

She was saying it as if it was fine, but a part of him just knew it wasn’t fine. All she had done all along was protect his guild his peers, him from danger no matter how much it hurt her to do so. Then why had she been so preoccupied about him when he couldn’t do that for her, when all he had done had been ridiculous compared to her feats? Why, in the end, was he the one being affected by her feelings and not her by his lack of them?

It was wrong. She was wrong. She couldn’t care, it had to be a good joke or a big performance lie. He shouldn’t have to feel this– that throb of having done enough, yet feeling like there was much more to do. He didn’t like it, he hated it! Bakugou wanted to throw his heart out of the window or give it to her so she could just devour it and give it back ugly, but fixed.

She… was a sorcerer. It was fucking wrong for him to feel even debited towards her.

He… he couldn’t say it anymore. He couldn’t hate her after all she had done for him. And that’s why he hated her despite not really doing so– she had given him a reason not to hate her. She was giving him reasons not to hold back anymore… to embrace her. Uraraka had barged in, cared for him when no one asked, and pushed all his hatred back to pin him down and, suddenly, he wasn’t himself anymore.

He wasn’t full of hatred for her anymore. In its stead, there was this confusing set of annoying feelings, all contradictory and messy that he didn’t even want to touch, screaming his name in a tangled sea of names and tags he didn’t… he just couldn’t touch.

Bakugou stared at her a little moment. So, he didn’t.

That way, he didn’t care now.

Not that much.

“Guys, did you hear that?”

Jack had ran to a side of the road, whip in her hand as a menacing thunderstorm rumbled from high above, near a hill and by the river they were passing by. Uraraka stopped in her tracks to listen closely, but nothing could be heard aside from faraway thunder rolling at the end of the canyon. The guild was currently walking through a very narrow path encored on the rocky cliff, the river flowing deep below them in direction to the forests ahead, then the capital.

Mina stared a bit ahead as well, her eyes finding nothing else but the dark rocks of the cliffs in the night and the waters running crystal black under the moon’s blurry embrace, covered by the thick clouds of incoming storm. She shook her head and held her torch a bit higher. “I can’t see shit in the darkness, above all with the wind from up here. What did it sound like?”

Kaminari, who was at the head of the crew at the moment, stopped them all as he held his arm and sword. Even Bakugou stopped his match when he saw how serious the blonde had turned. “No, I heard that too. It came from a bit under us.”

Everyone peeked from the edge of the thin way, some squatting to not lose balance and topple over. Yaoyorozu shook her head, struggling to see anything else but some dry plants and bubbling water. “There are a few platforms of discontinued paths and the river. I can see some little hills as the canyon ends, but nothing suspicious.”

Bakugou lowered Kaminari’s arm, but knew better than to let his guard down. He let his axe out of his back and walked forward clutching it tightly. “Then, let’s going. A storm is coming and rain in the darkness ain’t pretty. Above all in the canyon.”

Everyone nodded in unison and took a few steps forward to hear the very same noise Jack had heard– except this time, it rung much clearer and louder than before, the screech reaching Uraraka’s ears so terrifyingly well, as if the monster was right–

A crash and a blow were heard and the walls that held the path clear started to crack, tremble, and a horrifying scream of agitation echoed across the whole canyon while a dark green monster with scales and claws started to surface from the depths of the river and crawled up the walls to the path, his eyes locking with Uraraka’s scared ones and letting out another piercing yell of territorial menace, his metal hands making the ground beneath the guild shake and start crumbling.

A panicked, petrified shaky intake of breath broke the confidence for a tranquil path, and Uraraka was suddenly frightened to death for this monster she couldn’t clearly see in the middle of the darkness– but the menace was there, its tail illuminated by the dim moonlight and she could feel him climbing closer, faster, his body making the canyon give in to its weight.

One of Asui’s feet gave in to the cracks, and she would have fallen down if Todoroki hadn’t caught her. “The path widens into an esplanade a few meters ahead where the canyon curves! We must hurry and take it down there, we can’t fight like this!”

Unable to find a better plan, the guild struggled to break from the shock and fear and ran forward through the path as it started giving up behind them and falling into the river. The river creature let out another screech and dived into the waters again, chasing them down while hitting the walls a little while beneath the canyon.

Once they reached the esplanade, Uraraka was ordered by Yaoyorozu to ensure a path out of it before the whole canyon gave up. The sorcerer nodded and pounded a crack of the canyon with her staff, spikes of rocks and solid minerals surfacing through the cracks on the path ahead and holding them in place. Still, the solution wasn’t permanent. “The path is a little fixer-upper, but this won’t last for long if whatever that is shakes it!”

Bakugou flung his war axe on his shoulder and immediately hissed after. His body hadn’t rested enough for a battle of this caliber, not after looking after Uraraka and having to part afterwards. He was tired, aching– but his mind was ready for any challenge like this, for he smirked. “Let’s take this little thing do–“

The beast surfaced again from the side of the big esplanade, making Mina and Midoriya leap backwards as the river monster blocked the way out of the portion of land, and swatted Uraraka’s work off to the river. As it crawled nearer to them, it let out another high pitched wail of anger as it frowned on them, its scales brightening after a flash of thunder and revealing a dragon with green scales, colossal tail and sharp claws, his teeth wet with blood and sweet water.

“It’s a legendary beast from the river!” screamed Midoriya into the night, to his comrades, as wind started howling them off the esplanade. “We can’t possibly kill it, all we must do is paralyze him before he moves too much!”

Even before the leader had finished his orders, Kaminari was completely involved in lightning and sparks as an uncanny smirk of pride wicked his skin. “Ah, then that’s sparky’s field of battle!”

He charged a handful of bolts into his palms, liting up the land around them before smashing the currents and sending it through the minerals of the canyon, running deep into the canyon through the cracks and zipping the monster that lay before them– but the monster never stopped shifting nearer to them. Uraraka took a hesitant step near to the edge of the cliff, and only stopped when the waters were heard too clearly.

“What the fuck is this thing!?” exclaimed Kaminari before charging his sword and adopting a fighting pose, breath heavy from the stamina consumption. “That thing is huge! How are we going to immobilize him with such fat weight?”

Uraraka would have done something about it if it hadn’t been for thunder clapping right beside her, the beast smashing his claw closer to her people and creating a crack across the esplanade. She let out a whimper of fright, yet stayed focused on the beast before them. She could have summoned a meteorite, called in a tsunami to wash the thing away, make the ground beneath him crack and fall, or warp him in a tornado of havoc and destruction.

Yet, she held herself in and charged up. The ground they shared was fragile, at the verge of destruction if the monster took another step as she could hear rocks fall to the river behind her, the surface giving in if the beast made it shake too much. And as everyone was being extra careful, she knew she wasn’t the only one aware of this limitation.

Todoroki wrapped his left side in flames and swung his arm straight at the beast from near Uraraka, flames shooting up and striking right on the beast’s eyes. While the monster shook at the violent blinding, Bakugou was able to charge at him with his axe and jump upwards, hunching and then spinning to strike at the beast and slice a part of his skin. Blood dripped from the monster and it tried to slap the leader off, him unraveled from his attack and scraping the ground with his boots as he was pushed off.

Big stains of blood covered his naked chest, which he wiped clean as fangs relished on the thought of eating that huge motherfucker for dinner. Jack was next to him, swinging her whip around the beast’s neck and extending it so it would choke his grand, whole body, but the monster easily wiggled and broke her weapon, throwing her off with his claw.

Jack landed on her back dangerously near to the edge, but Uraraka had no space to focus on her, but pushed her away from there before running forward, rain starting to fall on her as she dodged members from her guild. Her staff crossed the thin air before a big jump, a seal appearing beneath her feat and shining before bigger thunder and lights flashed closely above, her form petite and high off the cliff as she had altered her gravity.

Then, lights and electricity came crashing on the creature as the girl dove through the air, driving the thunder right into the beast as she summoned her cast. “Divine Lighting Carriage!”

And the monster did shriek even higher from this as smoke radiated off his body, and his claws pierced the ground as Uraraka landed with scraping boots and her knees brushing the ground as she hissed, pushed away from the beast as well. She realized that the beast was poking holes too deep into the surface– claws digging into the solid rock like butter and creating fractures too deep into the canyon, and then, a big deaf sound beneath.

Half of the ground of the esplanade gave in and started crashing down into the river fast, the members that stayed at the last line started to fall down, crumble with the broken debris and precipitating themselves into the dark waters, meeting their soon to be demise. Mina stumbled and almost fell, but was able to grab onto the edge of the broken esplanade and quickly caught Uraraka when the sorcerer screamed and almost fell as well.

“Are you alright, sis?” her right hand was tightly clasped around Uraraka’s, yet her left one was slipping, and fast.

And the brunette, even in her state of agitation and unfathomable fear, could see this– she could see her hand so clearly. So many things were happening around her: the monster was still wailing at the guild, somebody had fallen into the river, and she could feel some more people struggling to hold onto the falling esplanade. She could see more rocks crumbling beneath her and crashing in the waters.

The portion to which Mina was holding onto would give up soon. And she would fall with Uraraka if the sorcerer didn’t do something about it. “Mina, let me go!”

“What?” wind made things difficult to be heard, but the archer still held her tight in the middle of the chaos. “No way I am–“

Another deaf crash vibrated nearby, and more rocks crashed. Sooner or later, Uraraka would fall into the river, meters and meters and meters of void fall pivoting her future tragedy. “Please, Mina! If you don’t let me fall, both of us will!”

“Uraraka,” one of her fingers slipped, and the pair was tugged a bit down. The sorcerer held her breath in, eyes widening. But Mina’s hold on her never lessened. “don’t be a pain!”

If she could, she would float the way up, but in this state of agitation and exhaustion from the run and the fight, there was no way she would be able to go up there again and stand straight. There was a loud gruff curse, a scream, and somebody else had fallen again. “Mina, you must trust me on this!”

This made the pink girl look under her, grimace at the pain this was supposing, and started pondering the thought. She was quick to shake it away. She would never let a comrade fall, not in her wildest dreams! If Uraraka fell down to the river, she would probably die from both the crash and the rocks that laid below them. Thunder clapped, rain started falling, wind howling in the middle of the thunderstorm, and Uraraka felt both of them giving up on their stone hold–

“Forgive me for this, Mina!”

Uraraka used her last resort to summon a little flame that burnt Mina’s hand scarcely, making the archer let go for a moment in deep pain– but then, Uraraka was falling down, her hands reaching out for her friend again as air was knocked out of her lungs, a scream of hers piercing through the storm as she fell down across the canyon, compassing the raindrops and nearer and nearer to the wild waters inching closer to her.

Suddenly, there was no feeling of ground anymore. Her stomach was sinking into her, her organs lurched as she desperately tried to hold onto something, anything in her way, not knowing where solid ground was but only aware of the music of crash and rumble, quake and death climbing up to her as her body only fell down faster and faster, away from the stars and moonlight she had once soared under.

In a second, her body splashed and there was nothing around her anymore. Silence surrounded her as rocks and debris crumbled into the water with deaf bursts of rock meeting ground, foam forming at her fingertips and strands as her body plummeted down, almost touching the deep ground before the current starts pulling her away– and she let herself be taken as the fall sunk into her and all pain and sudden notion of having stopped numbed her.

Consciousness and pain mixed, narrowing down to something sharp and full of grim colors she couldn’t see in the darkness, the only feeling that kept her alive actually trying to kill her. Water ran down her throat as she tried to breathe unconsciously, and all sensations crackled down to numbness and pain, all taking her down the trashing river.

Until, suddenly, something soft and nice enveloped her in the night, an insane cycle of destruction and agony stopping. Feet below the surface where it was darker, muskier and wetter, with a heartbeat where silence was all that bubbled around her again, and the warmth made her feel safe, like a child in a lost home of gray hues where a family once lived, where a child once lived.

And the last thought she had was... that is was so warm down there, in the dark, deep in muddy water, with him. It was so… nice. This place, she couldn’t feel scared here.

The image of a scattered young, blonde boy crossed her mind like s hooting star, crossed in between the strings of times and lost galaxies, fluttering out of space.

“Katsuki…”

#kacchako #kacchako fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha #this is the only time this fic qualifies as kacchako tho /snicker #also like THIS TOOK SO GODDAMN LONG BUT IT'S DONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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