#felix saying 'want to go again sent me to THE GRAVE... hes so ... hes so....

[still-astray]

A Special Someone (part 5)

Sophie gets a taste of normal teenhood

genre: fluff (finally)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mention of biting (this was written almost solely on impulse and i proofread almost nothing so it’s quite chaotic) (it’s not a bad kind of biting!! i feel like i’m digging my grave deeper and deeper the more i try to explain this)

Special thanks to @mynameisnotlaura for coming up with this idea <3 i really don’t know where Sophie would be without your amazing ideas

taglist: @fromfreesia @skz-angel @skzfairies @mynameisnotlaura (just send in an ask to be added or removed <33) (couldn’t tag: @fromfreesia)

🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

“I really want to see you.” Ni-ki brushed his hair out of his eyes as he looked through the screen at Sophie. “If we take a couple members of one of our groups we can just hang out as friends. Our manager is all for it.”

Sophie smiled sadly. “Your members may be ready to move on, Riki, but mine aren’t. I mean it took six months to even get to call you.”

“True.” Riki fell silent for a few moments. Sophie wound a strand of hair around her finger, thinking over the last few months. Like awkward silence!

Seven months had passed since Sophie’s last scandal. Things had calmed down for the most part around the Stray Kids dorm, with the exception of the normal daily chaos.

She hadn’t seen Riki (or any member of Enhypen for that matter) since the scandal. Recently Chan had begun allowing her to message and call Riki again, but a FaceTime video just wasn’t the same as seeing him in person.

Behind Riki, Sophie saw the boy’s bedroom door open and Heeseung poke his head in. “Ni-ki, we’re home.”

“Hello there,” Riki replied without turning around. “As you can see, I’m still here.”

Sophie cracked a smile. “I thought you just said your members were okay with leaving the situation behind now,” she said to Riki.

“We are,” Heeseung answered for Riki. “He’s still salty about the time when he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except for work.”

Sophie giggled. “Riki, I’m still not allowed to, so count yourself lucky.”

Heeseung whistled. “Chan’s still trying to figure out when he can let you go?”

“Yep.” Sophie fiddled with a ring on her hand, one Riki had given her as a belated birthday present last year. “I keep telling him that I’m never going to rebuild my reputation if he never lets me try.”

“Good for you. He just wants what’s best for everyone,” Heeseung told her. “I guarantee you it’ll get better.”

“Thanks.” Sophie was about to say something else, but right then her door opened and Jeongin came in. “Hey, Bubble! Dinner’s ready.”

“Be right there,” Sophie answered. Jeongin grinned at her and nodded towards the iPad. “Talking to Ni-ki?”

Sophie’s cheeks flamed pink. “How did you know?”

“I just did.” Jeongin winked and fled the premises.

Sophie let out an amused sigh. “I better go before someone else comes to get me,” she told the two Enhypen boys. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Tomorrow?” Riki asked hopefully.

“Depends on schedules, but I’d love to.”

The two said their goodbyes, Heeseung included, and Sophie closed down the iPad.

She could smell the food before she even left the hallway: hamburgers. Felix must have taken over chef duties for the night, she decided.

Seungmin met her as she passed through the living room. “Did Felix steal your job?” he asked her.

Sophie laughed. It was technically her job to make American food, but Felix loved to playfully steal the job from her. “I guess he did,” she replied as they entered the dining room.

“Who did what?” Hyunjin asked, looking up from selecting a burger patty.

“Felix stole my job tonight,” Sophie replied, taking a place next to Minho.

Felix grinned at her. “I didn’t have the heart to take you away from your FaceTime.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.” Sophie sent him a grateful smile as she picked a burger and started adding condiments to her bun.

Changbin stared at her from across the table. “What the heck are you doing?”

Sophie looked up at him, puzzled. “I’m just putting on ketchup and mustard.”

“I mean why is it that specific way every time?”

“Mustard burns so I put the ketchup on the underside,” Sophie explained, replacing the ketchup bottle and adding pickles and French fries to her plate.

“Oh.” Changbin still looked a little perplexed but he let it go.

Sensing that someone was missing, Sophie glanced around the table, mentally counting members. “Where’s Chan?”

The other seven members glanced at each other. Their answer came simultaneously. “Working.”

Sophie sighed. “Of course.”

“He said he’ll be home tomorrow, though,” added Jisung. “He wants to-“

“Jisung!!” six voices yelled in unison.

“What?” shrugged Jisung.

“That’s a secret,” scolded Hyunjin. “He literally told us to keep it a secret.”

“Naeryeooneun binmure modeun geokjeongdeureul dama tteolchyeonae,” sang Seungmin on an impulse.

“Okay, now you’ve got me curious.” Sophie took her seat at the table and sent Jeongin her best pair of puppy eyes. “Pleaseee Jeongin?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Bubble, you know it’s hard to resist when you make that face at me.”

“That’s exactly why she’s doing it,” Hyunjin said. “Stay strong!”

Jeongin sent Hyunjin a look that clearly said, i don’t know if i can…

“YOU MUST RESIST!!” Hyunjin insisted.

Sophie broke into giggles. “You sound like I’m the Wicked Witch of the West trying to put a spell on him!”

Now it was Hyunjin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, come on….”

“She sure put a spell on Ni-ki,” teased Jisung, earning a flick on the shoulder from Sophie. “Ow- hey, you’re getting pretty good at that.”

“I have all of you to practice on,” replied Sophie with a grin.

“Can we eat?” Changbin asked plaintively. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.”

🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

(the next afternoon)

7/9 members were lounging in different areas of the dorm. Sophie was napping, having suffered a bout of insomnia the night before and gone immediately to an early dance practice and recording session.

Half the members were dozing off while the other half played Just Dance. The sudden click of a key turning in the front door alerted them to either an intruder, a friend with a key, or-

“CHAN!” yelled Jeongin excitedly, the other members joining in.

Though exhausted, Chan smiled at the sudden enthusiasm from his members. However, he had one thing to do before he could grab a nap.

“Where’s Sophie?” he asked, setting his bag down on the couch.

“Napping,” said Hyunjin, completely failing a Just Dance song (due to all the distractions, as he would insist to his members later when they teased him for it). “I don’t think you should wake her up Chan hyung. She gets reeeeally cranky.”

Chan let out a sigh. “Welp,” was all he said (copying a phrase of Sophie’s) before heading towards the maknae’s room.

Hyunjin watched in utter disbelief and a bit of horror. “I JUST WARNED YOU??? DO MY WARNINGS MEAN NOTHING?? DO YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE CAUSE SOPHIE MIGHT NOT ONCE YOU WAKE HER UP-”

“I’m not too worried,” Chan called back right before the members heard him opening Sophie’s door.

Felix smacked Hyunjin upside the head. “She’s sleeping you idiot!”

“OW!” Chan yelled. “SHE BIT ME!”

Hyunjin smirked at Felix. “Not anymore, pabo.” He looked towards the hallway. “I TOLD YOU HYUNG. SHE’S VERY CRANKY WHEN WOKEN UP. SHE’S LIKE A SEA BEAST. SHE WILL DRAG YOU BY THE FEET AND NEVER LET YOU GO! SHE-”

“SHUT UP, HYUNJIN!” Sophie interrupted. She hates being woken up.

Hyunjin cringed back, reminded of four months ago when Sophie kicked him in the shin after he woke her up from her nap. It hurt even more than stepping on legos.

“That’s Texans for you,” Minho said.

Felix just let out a sigh and started for the Sleeper Car, as they called the hall where all the bedrooms were. “Need help pouring oil on the troubled waters?” he asked in English.

“GET HIM OFF OF ME???” Sophie shrieked before Chan could answer. The members ran to her room- well, more like most of them walked, but the over-dramatic HyunSung ran. They were greeted by Chan literally lying on top of her like a beached whale and hugging her while she was biting his arm (“Please tell me she’s not drawing blood,” muttered Changbin) and trying kick him off (Jeongin later remarked that she looked like she was trying to swim). Her hair was a mess from her nap. Honestly? It was like someone took tumbleweed, flattened it out, and plopped it on her head. It wasn’t pretty.

Sophie took one look in the mirror and shrieked. As if Levi Ackerman had gifted her all his strength, she launched Chan off of her to grab her brush and comb through that mess. He landed with a thud on the floor and stared up at her, a little scared. Matter of fact, after what she did to Chan, the others took a step back, the expression on all their faces saying the same thing: Don’t wake Sophie up. She’ll wake up and become Supergirl!

Sophie turned and glared at her members, who recoiled in fear of her wrath as she got out of bed. “If you’d just told me my hair looked a mess, I would’ve WOKEN UP. WHAT IS THIS??? WHO FRIED MY HAIR? ZEUS? WHERE’S MY DRY SHAMPOO??” Her gaze pierced the person with the next best hair after her. “Hyunjin?” With that he bolted. You could hear his footsteps as he went into his room to grab it. He ran back with it in a matter of seconds.

Sophie, looking like a wild raccoon with her smudged mascara and slightly-improved hair, took a deep breath and calmed down a little bit. “What?” she said innocently, like she hadn’t just terrified the living heck out of eight guys.

Chan blinked at her. “Well, I was just coming to say that if you’ll get dressed and fix your makeup, I have someplace we’re going.”

Sophie looked down at him. “Hey, how'd you get on the floor? That’s weird. But anyway, that’ll take me like half an hour. Where to?”

The others looked at her like she grew a second head and lost her memory. How did she not remember turning into She-Hulk?

“Americans are so forgetful.” Minho mutters it under his breath as he turns away to leave the room, hoping Sophie wouldn’t hear.

She didn’t.

Chan got up off the floor, shooing the rest of the members out the door. “That’s a surprise,” he said to Sophie with a wink.

#skz’ bubbly sunflower 🫧🌻 #stray kids 9th member #stray kids’ sophie #kpop imagines #kpop au #fictional kpop oc #stray kids au #stray kids imagines #stray kids

[chrisbangs]

Glow Team 2017 - 2021

#stray kids #skz #createskz #leeknownet #seochangbinet #yongboknet #minho #changbin #felix #lee minho #lee know #seo changbin #lee felix #*gifs #*m #this took me 2 hrs...... hysterical #han river to pool side... i love you all still so mcuh :( #i still remember how funny this was back then... youre all still so funny now :((( #i love u so much i really do......... #felix saying 'want to go again sent me to THE GRAVE... hes so ... hes so.... #this made me feel like a hag im so sad..... how has it already been 4 years im so hysterical..... im so sad....

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Fear (Alec Volturi x Reader)

WARNING: dark themes!

Finding out the awful things Alec and his sister had done, as well as what they were capable of, deeply impacted you. That made sense since you and Alec were so close that he deemed you as his mate, despite being human. However, you didn’t know in detail what he had done to other humans, until now. Now you fully understood why the receptionists and even some guards cowered in fear at the sight of the twins. It was then that you recognised your situation. Realistically, knowing Alec, what actually stopped your fate from being the same? 

He was still just as hostile to humans, you being the closest he’d ever gotten to but even you were kept at arms length. The twins were inseparable and that was no different even if Alec had feelings for you. Feelings he didn’t always show. Alec was usually so calculating that their was rarely emotion visible. You had seen Alec angry many times and the disasters that struck as the consequences. If that had ever been turned to you. There's no guarantee you’d survive.  After hearing every little detail of his past, you felt you had every good reason to be afraid. 

However, you couldn’t hide it. Everyone noticed. You kept your distance and barely spoke a word. With each day passing, you grew more and more unease.They understood and let you do what you had to do but no one anticipated it getting worse. 

You stared at Alec from the doorway. He was sitting alone in the room, his back to you, seemingly lost in thought. That was until he looked over his shoulder to look at you. Silence ensued. Perhaps Alec was waiting for you to speak but you could only stare at him, your stomach turning with dread. Alec said nothing, meeting you gaze without blinking. You stared at one another.  “You’re not fooling me.” You said as though finally coming to a conclusion. Alec didn't respond, nor show any sign he had heard you, although he hadn’t torn his eyes from yours. 

After a moment, he slowly got up from the chair.  “You’re not fooling me.” You repeated. Alec slowly moved forward and you moved back at the same pace.  “I know you will. You’re not fooling me.” You said louder. Alec stopped, eyes calculating your every movement. Concern washed over his face.  “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” Alec asked, his voice quivering slightly as though worried. “You’re not fooling me!” You emphasised. 

Faster than you could process, Alec had closed the gap, his fingers coiled around your wrists. You tried to pull back when you felt a cold sensation creep up your arms, leaving a numbness in its wake. That was when you realised what he was doing. “Don’t!” Within seconds, everything turned black.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before your sight returned as well as your hearing. You were on the couch, more specifically in Alec’s lap, his arms cradling you to him. Alec’s stare was intense and you couldn’t escape it, you couldn’t move.  “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on in your head?” Alec asked quietly. “You’ve been avoiding me, you have said barely two sentences in days now. Now there’s these outbursts that make no sense.” You felt Alec’s thumb lightly stroke your temple. Your eyes boring into his as he tried to pry answers out of you but he couldn’t even get a hint of what you were thinking in his arms. Whilst you didn’t dare speak a word. 

As always, that day went unresolved. Perhaps they were hoping you’d forget, or if they ignored it would go away. Alec entered your room, knocking and not waiting for your response.  “Sweet-face, we’re going to the Cullen’s territory. We have some business there that will be around two days.”  “Do i need to pack anything?” You asked quietly. “No, our masters aren’t attending, it’s us, Jane, Demetri and Felix. We’ll accommodate to your needs as you need it.” You nodded. “Alright.” This was your opportunity to get out of the castle, one you had wanted for days now. 

However, you only seemed to grow more panicked by the time you were at the Cullen’s territory. As the four guards were distracted by Edward, Bella and Renesmee, you slipped away. You had to get some space. Seeing the fear in Renesmee’s eyes as she saw the Volturi made you feel sick, not to mention how on edge the Cullen’s were. You were reminded of how brutal they are with no mercy. 

“(Y/N)?” You were brought out of your thoughts to face a worried looking Carlisle. “Are you okay?” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat before you spoke.  “He’s going to kill me.” You said gravely. “If i do something wrong he’ll hurt me or kill me...like he did to everyone else.” You barely managed out the the last part.  “Let’s take a walk-” Carlisle began but you interrupted.  “He’s not fooling me.” You said forcefully.  “Alec?” Carlisle whispered. “Has he hurt you?” You shook your head. “No but what if he does? You cant look at me and tell me he wouldn’t.”  “I-” Carlisle began “I can’t because i don’t know him.”  “He’s gonna kill me like he has all the other humans he’s encountered.” Your voice quivered.  “Alright, let’s go and take a walk.” Carlisle took a step forward before a voice made you freeze.  “(Y/N)?” Alec was beside Carlisle in seconds, seemingly unaware of your conversation. Although there was really no way to tell if he did know or not. “I was wondering where you had went.” Alec finished looking between you and Carlisle.  “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” Alec asked expressionless. Jasper walked up behind Alec to turn to Carlisle. “Everything is fine.” 

Although Carlisle wasn’t paying attention to Jasper. He was looking at you as you stared at Alec, trembling slightly.  “(Y/N).” Carlisle quietly pleaded. He understood your fear but there was nothing to say that you had anything to worry about. To everyone else it was evident that Alec adored you, even if he didn’t show it as much as everyone else. Through the tiniest gestures, it was clear Alec cared. He was always checking to see if you were alright and in eye sight. Carlisle knew that your panic was building up in your head, he could see it and he was trying desperately to get you to come back down again.  “(Y/N)?” Alec asked again, a slight shift in his voice. Suddenly you took off running. Alec took a few steps forward. “(Y/N)!?” Alec called after you but you kept running. 

No one spoke a word about the incident even when you were heading back to Italy. Alec was acting differently. Almost as though he had recoiled in on himself, hurt and closing himself off from you. On the other hand you couldn’t take the fear anymore, it turned into something else, adrenaline almost, to push Alec and see what happened. You didn’t want to be silent about your worries anymore. If he was going to kill you, then he could hurry up and get on with it. If that isn’t what he wanted, you’d have to see for yourself what his intentions are. If he really cared then all you asked is that he showed it.

You brought out a storage box from your closet, pulling it open and rummaging through. You had old letters from Alec. You knew you still had then, you just had to find them and perhaps you’d get a clue. However, you were so determined to find them you didn’t hear footsteps coming up behind you.

“(Y/N)?” You jumped with a gasp looking up to see Alec looking down at you stoically.  “I didn’t mean to scare you. Your door was open.” You looked at your open door before looking back at him. “It’s fine. I must have just got so deep in thought i didn’t hear you.” You responded.  “What are you looking for?” Alec asked.  “The old letters you sent me before i moved here.” You said as you began to dig into the box. You were hunting for the proof that he did care. You needed it. “Why did you run away from me back in Forks?” You stiffened, the letters completely forgotten. Slowly you shifted your body towards Alec, giving him your full attention.  “I wasn’t feeling very well.” You lied.  “Are you feeling better?” He asked after a moment of silence.  “Yeah, i’m not sure what came over me.” You offered him a small smile. “Might have been feeling sick after the plane ride. You know what i’m like with planes.” Alec seemed to ignore that. “You won’t run away from me again, will you?” He asked.  “No.” You responded. “I just didn’t want to worry you.”  “You did worry me.” Alec responded stoically. “I don’t like that you ran from me.”  “I promise that wasn’t my intention. I won’t do that again. I promise.” You reached out a hand to him and his eyes flashed with surprise before a flicker of hope. 

He moved forward, taking your hand. You moved his hand to your lips, kissing it before cradling it in both of your hands. With Alec’s free hand, he slowly stroked you cheekbone, searching your eyes for something. Within seconds he broke free of your hold and pulled you up into an embrace. “I love you, (Y/n).” He said quietly, the statement only meant for you. You really hoped he meant that.  “I love you.” You said in response. “Remember you said you wanted to know what’s going on in my head?” Alec hummed softly, so much so you barely heard it.  “I think i’m ready to tell you.” You felt your eyes water and Alec pulled back, meeting your eyes with surprise once more, his stoic expression melting once more. 

Alec pulled back moving you to sit on your bed and he moved beside you.  “I’m sorry that I've been acting strange...distant. I got more details of why people are afraid of you and what you had done in the past.” You swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up in your eyes and Alec’s face shifted to one of hurt. Although he wasn’t hurting for himself, he seemed hurt for you. Alec’s gaze lowered.  “I’m an idiot.” You smiled, a tear slipping down your face. “I was so focused on what you had done to others in the past that i wasn’t looking at the present and how you treat me. I know you better than that. You’re honest. You’re honest in that if you wanted to hurt me or kill me like i thought, you would have done so.” Alec looked up sharply, eyes widened. He was clearly shocked by your statement, revealing what you had been thinking all along.  “You thought I would...?” Alec trailed off and another tear ran down your cheek.  “I look at you now and see how wrong i was. I should have been honest from the start. I shouldn’t have let it get into my head.” You said. Slowly the emotions slipped from Alec’s face as he brushed the tear away from your cheek. Alec leaned forward as he cradled your face in his hands, pulling you towards him gently. His lips met yours in a slow, sweet kiss. His fingers weaving into your hair on each side of your head.  “You don’t need to be afraid of me.” Alec said against your lips, chasing your lips for another kiss. “You are so special to me. You’re not like the others.”

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #reader #alec volturi #warning #one shot #oneshot

[shurelyasreverie]

Twisted Fate x Reader: Wanna Bet?

After a successful heist, you and Twisted Fate play cards to pass away the time, but it seems that money isn't the prize Tobias has on his mind...

Word Count: 1654

The life of a thief and mercenary was not an easy one, but it had its perks. The thrill of living on the edge, fighting nail and tooth for precious gold and jewels made this life addictive, especially with two reliable comrades that stood by your side through thick and thin. Tobias Felix had the charm, Malcolm Graves had the brawn, and most importantly, you had the common sense to not get yourself killed. Combined, you were an unstoppable force, shown again today through another successful heist that got you plenty of gold for you to throw away at the local pub.

Taking a table at the corner, you and Tobias had barely gone through a glass as Graves already finished a bottle of the heavy duty stuff, sending him slumped on a chair, dead to the world.

“It's been less than ten minutes and Grave's already a goner,” you groaned as you finished a shot glass.

“Well he don't look like he'll be causing any trouble tonight,” Tobias mused, sliding an already prepared shot to you.

“Cheers,” you mumbled in thanks as you took the new glass, about to down it until you hesitated. You looked at Tobias sceptically, the entire time his enigmatic smile was plastered on his face. You slammed the glass down. “Oh no, no, no. I'm not falling for that old trick again.”

“Whatever do you mean?” His voice had a light lilt, feigning ignorance.

“You get me drunk just so I'll agree to play cards with you, then I end up losing half my gold because of you,” you groaned as many regretful memories plagued your mind. You rubbed your temples, both the alcohol and memories causing a headache.

“Today might be your lucky day, you could end up winning against me.”

“Are you kidding me? Your skill and magic with cards is literally your selling point. It's your only selling point.”

“You wound me,” he frowned teasingly. You cursed yourself for feeling weak to his deep, reverberating voice as he chuckled. It was the alcohol's fault, right? Right.

“Anyway, why do you keep bothering me about cards? What's the point if you know you're going to win?”

“Just because I win doesn't mean it ain't a challenge,” Tobias corrected. “You're good with whatever hand you're given.”

“Play with Graves then.”

“He's too dumb,” he responded plainly. “Anyway, does he look like he's in a state to play?”

He pointed to the passed out form next to you.

“Point taken but I'm still not playing,” you grumbled, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Our heist went well and we got good money from it. I refuse to lose it all in the first night.”

“Fine...” Tobias huffed but after a brief moment he leaned back with a signature smirk on his face, already shuffling a deck of cards. “But how about this? We play but we don't bet money. I promise.”

“You don't keep your promises.”

“I've kept the ones I've made with you,” he pointed out. You had to give him that, you don't remember him ever breaking a promise but you barely remember him making any promises in the first place.

“Fine. What're we dealing with, then?”

His smile widened as he started to deal the cards. “I don't normally bet on this 'cause it requires trust. But I trust you.”

“A dangerous choice but I'm honoured.”

“I want your honesty,” Tobias announced and you raised your eyebrows. “I ask you a question and you answer wholeheartedly and entirely truthfully. Can you promise me that?”

You downed another shot as you contemplated.

“Sure.”

“That's what I like to hear,” he smirked.

Unsurprisingly, you lost, and quickly too.

“And here I was thinkin' you'd put up more of a fight,” he mused as he collected the cards and shuffled.

“I figured we'd be playing multiple games so I'm conserving energy,” you retorted and Tobias nodded in amusement.

“Fair.”

“So... your prize?”

“Ah, of course. I'll make this easy for you first. Ease you into it,” Tobias stopped shuffling to watch you. “Answer me honestly: what do you think of the pants Graves bought today?”

You pulled a face before instantly covering it up. “Well, I mean- he's wanted those things for ages... he was very happy with them.”

“Honesty, sweetheart,” Tobias reminded and your heart raced at the name as you cleared your throat. You sent a cautious glance over to a passed out Graves. You snapped your fingers by each of his ears, clapped your hands in front of his face and then lightly slapped him.

Not a peep.

Knowing now he'll never hear your answer, you leaned into Tobias. “I hate the ghastly things. They're a crime to all things good on this earth, I haven't seen anything uglier and at that price? You've got to be kidding me.”

By the time you were done with your rant, Tobias had a fist to his mouth, suppressing his laughter.

“I ain't ever seen you so passionate about anything before,” he mustered as he picked up his new hand of cards. You did the same.

“He was just so happy when he got them, I couldn't tell him what I truly thought,” you sighed as you put down a card.

“And what do you think of my looks?”

As he placed a card for his turn your eyes scanned Tobias up and down. Purely for noting his attire, and definitely not to admire his figure and features.

“You dress fine. It seems to work well for you, anyway,” you replied.

“Meaning?”

“If your clothes were ugly, your charm wouldn't work,” you explained. “But it seems no one has complaints about what you wear. Hell, a lot of people probably like it.”

Tobias hummed thoughtfully. “That so? Lady Luck's blessed me with a lotta things but she didn't give me no luck on the dating scene.”

“I think that's less Lady Luck and more just you being unfaithful.”

“Aw, come now. I ain't that bad.”

“Prove it.”

“You free tomorrow night?”

“Not like that,” you groaned as Tobias laughed.

“Ah... and would you look at that, I've won again.”

“I really shouldn't have agreed to this,” you grumbled as you chucked the rest of your hand onto the pile of cards.

“Now, tell me,” he leaned forward. “Who do you prefer? Me or Graves?”

“What?” You frowned. “Listen, you're both my partners in crime. We're a trio. I rely on both of you equally. Malcolm might be an idiot sometimes but he's a good, trustworthy bloke. Honestly, I admire him. Sometimes.”

“... I see,” Tobias nodded and he leaned back. He didn't inquire any further and you raised your eyebrows at his sudden solemnness. He idly rearranged and shuffled the cards as he seemed lost in thought. You sighed, figuring to give him the honesty you promised to give him.

“That being said, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel closer to you.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, saying no more. The three of you had each other's backs but it always felt a little more meaningful knowing Tobias was by your side. How he seemed to always know the right things to say to keep you motivated, encouraging you forward with a firm hand on the small of your back. You bit your lip, making sure you didn't voice your thoughts to him. Your words already seemed to have impacted him regardless, cards already dealt for a new game with his smirk back on his face.

“You're playin' better than before,” Tobias observed.

“I feel the next question is going to be a big one,” you replied, sending a wink. Tobias cleared his throat in response, hurriedly putting down a card.

After a few minutes of silence, another card was placed down and Tobias leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face. You frowned at his empty hand before sighing in resignation.

“Right, what do you want to know?” You took a pint of ale, bringing it to your lips.

“Would you date me?”

You almost spat out your drink. Eyes wide, you searched Tobias' face, wondering if he was lying. But there was no teasing smile, instead he was dead serious, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“I- what sort of question is that?”

“I want to know what you think of me,” he replied frankly.

“You're great,” you answered quickly.

“But would you date me? Remember your promise.”

“Why do you want to know?” You pouted.

“I think you can figure it out,” he cooed, bringing his face closer to yours. Frozen in place, you couldn't lean away. His nimble fingers took your chin, making you look at him. “Work partners ain't enough for me. I'm hopin' Lady Luck might help me out with you. So... what do you say?”

“I say...” you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. Although when you tried to pull away, the grip on your chin tightened as Tobias kissed you back. Whenever you tried to part for air, his lips chased yours, only relenting as you placed a hand to his chest with a giggle.

“I love you,” you admitted.

“Dangerous words, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Soon enough you'll be beatin' me in the charm department.”

The moment was interrupted by the slow clapping of Graves, making you practically shove Tobias away as heat rushed to your face. Since when was he awake?

“About goddamn time,” Graves grumbled as he stood up. “I'll get some new drinks, it's on me to celebrate the new happy couple.”

#oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #drabble #lol #league of legends #league of legends imagine #league of legends x reader #twisted fate #league of legends twisted fate #twisted fate x reader #x reader #self insert #y/n #fluff #shurelyasreverie

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 21: Flower Languages

Happy holidays and here’s another really late @felinettenovember prompt!

Life has gotten a little crazy lately, however I took tomorrow off from work so theoretically (if my husband doesn’t disrupt too much) I should be able to pump out another few! Either way, I intend on getting these prompts done even if it’s during the beginning of December.

If you’re interested, I have a preview here with rough sketches of each flower in the bouquet, as well as a few potential layouts for it. If I ever get really into drawing again, I’ll consider making a better sketch of it!

Around 1300 words of mutual pining and Felix accidentally confusing two florists

Marinette loved running a flower shop, especially because of her regulars. She had customers that came in once a month, some that came in once or twice a year, and a few that came in once every week or two. Her favorite was a man that came in weekly to replace the flowers on his mother’s grave. The two had formed a loose friendship around these weekly visits, chatting longer each week until the two would often talk for around an hour. Sometimes they would almost seem to flirt, in a mild way.

Their talks started because he was lost on the appropriate flowers for a grave and what they would mean, as well as the upkeep and the potential issues if they were left to sit for too long. He was adamant that he wouldn’t waste plastic to wrap flowers for someone that wouldn’t mind them sitting out in the sun until they rot. Plus plastic is tacky. The first few visits were bi-weekly, him coming in and mentioning that the groundskeeper had cleared off the flowers as they wilted and he needed new ones. The first consecutive week, he had declared that the groundskeepers must have increased their rounds and been throwing his flowers out sooner. They discussed more potential flowers that also held love and respect especially for the dead. He determined that weekly visits were in order and they could mix or change the flowers over time, as he was certain his mother would love to see different flowers every now and then. He encouraged her to be creative with these bouquets and Marinette relished the challenge.

The two had begun discussing a wide manner of trivial topics, not limited to discussion on flower messages. Over time, they touched on deeper topics, such as their families. His father was a recluse, a horrible and manipulative man, and his mother had died when he and his brother were young. Her family struggled with the idea of privacy when she was younger but had grown drastically better. When she moved out, they even apologized for being intrusive when she was a young teen, as they hadn’t recognized the boundary yet. She and Felix clicked in a way that made it easy to discuss things, even if most would consider it strange. They were becoming more like friends that happened to meet up once a week to get flowers for his mother’s grave, rather than having a customer and seller relationship.

She had debated asking for his contact information or suggesting they get coffee sometime, but she didn’t know if it would be too far. He could already be dating someone or trying to, or it could just be really forward when he wasn’t interested. The occasional comments that seemed almost flirty could just be his way of trying to be kind. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk their tentative friendship and his regular business for the potential of a coffee date, even if they had been talking every week for months.

Little did she know that Felix was debating how he could potentially confess his attraction to her. He worried that she would feel uncomfortable if he brought up possibly getting her phone number or going out for a drink or ice cream. He didn’t want that to sour the friendship they had budding but he thought she was a remarkable young woman and he wanted to spend more time around her. He remembered her mentioning a wide variety of interests in passing but what would be the best way to ask her for more than just an hour each week. Should he plan an elaborate demonstration or just slide her a love note one week? What would she rather? If it was just him, he would typically just ask her directly, but this was more delicate… Or maybe he could convey it through flowers, kind of like how they had discussed a variety of flowers’ meanings when planning future flower arrangements for his mother’s grave.

He pulled out paper to begin listing different flower meanings and planning which would be most appropriate for his message. After making a decently sized list, he began researching other florists. He couldn’t have Marinette putting together her own bouquet. He also wanted to ensure that the bouquet reached her shop before he did, maybe a day before to give her time to think about his proposition. He took a deep breath to brace himself before making a call with a nice enough looking flower shop that had pictures of each flower he was considering having in the bouquet.

Lavender gladiolus for admiration. Carnations for love and admiration. Forget-me-nots for faithfulness. Lobelias for distinction. Baby’s breath for everlasting love. Columbines to represent his anxious resolve in making this step. Pansies for love and consideration. Bound by strings to symbolize the agreement to date that he hoped would come from this. Finally he wanted a note attached that would let her know that he sent it and his request for a date (if she was comfortable with it of course), as well as reassuring her that if she was not interested in going on a date with him, he would not allow his feelings to affect his patronage or their conversations unless she specifically wanted him to stop coming in.

When explaining the flowers that he wanted in his custom-made bouquet, Felix couldn’t comprehend why the man taking his order sounded so surprised about putting pansies in a bouquet. Felix had explained that he primarily wanted purples and reds, as well as another bright color to make the bouquet look cheerful. The man informed Felix that he would try to use more white and yellow to ensure it looked upbeat. 

The bouquet was scheduled to be delivered the morning before Felix’s usual visit and he was practically buzzing in anticipation. Hopefully this was enough time to consider his offer.

Marinette didn’t reach the door in time to see the delivery man, let alone to ask who sent it. The bouquet sat on the door stoop, looking cheerful and bright, and she picked it up to inspect it closer. In the center was one large sprig of lavender gladiolus, with a ring of red columbines and yellow and purple carnations surrounding it, and around that was a ring of white forget-me-nots and purple lobelias. Filling in the gaps between the larger flowers were a mixture of baby’s breath and yellow tansy, all held together by straw binding and only with a card saying her name and store address, as well as the florist it came from. It was a unique combination of flowers to say the least. Few florists would mix columbines and carnations. Even fewer would have tansy in stock. She couldn’t help but notice the inclusion of typical garden plants. Interesting enough that she brought it inside to figure out if this was a message she should understand.

Gladiolus for admiration. Columbines for anxiety or resolve (?), which is interesting to combine with admiration. Yellow carnations indicate rejection while purple usually are for condolences… Is this anxiety over rejection or rejecting condolences? Condolences for what? Forget-me-nots are a sign of faithful love, potentially regarding funerals? Is it condolences for a lost love maybe? Lobelias are usually a sign of malevolence though… could this be a threat from rejection? Then the baby’s breath for everlasting love or innocence. Is this related to the condolence carnations? Tansy for war or death… Is this a death threat… or a confession for something? Tied together with broken straw to symbolize a broken agreement… What could this all possibly mean?

Marinette decided this was the most confusing message she could’ve gotten and thought that maybe she could pick Felix’s brain for ideas on how these pieces could fit together. She was glad that it shouldn’t be long, since he normally would visit tomorrow.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #flower shop au #mutual pining #felinette #miraculous ladybug

[sometimesiwritebadly]

The Lost Girl (Part 3)

Chapter Summary: In the past, Raven confronts Killian and Liam for the first time in years. In the present, Raven and Hook begin working together to save David from the dreamshade poison.

Notes: lmao remember that time i said it wouldn’t be long until the next chapter? that was funny. also ao3 saw it first

Warnings: Language, brief mention of suicide

Word Count: 1.9k

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

Raven really didn’t want to do this. She was hiding behind some bushes, watching Liam and Killian make the journey up to dead man’s peak, searching for the deadly dreamshade. She knew she had to convince them not to take the plant back to the Enchanted Forest, but confronting the two of them would mean admitting some of her deepest secrets. Killian, assuming he hasn’t grown out of his inquisitive nature, would have hundreds of questions. But Liam...she knew for a fact what he’d ask. “Why did you leave me Talia? Did I mean nothing to you?” She could practically hear him say it, with his ocean blue eyes filled with pain. Liam had meant so much to her, and she to him...Raven would never admit it to anyone, but in a better world, she would’ve happily married him.

Raven watched as they got closer and closer to the dreamshade, the brothers talking about their encounter with Pan. She took a deep breath, then appeared in front of Liam, blocking the path. Liam had his sword in front of him, using it to clear away any plants in their way. When he spotted her, he didn’t lower it.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice laced in anger. Ouch. Killian took a much kinder approach.

“Is it really you, Talia? How can this be?” Raven had to resist letting a smile overcome her face. He was still so kind, after all this time.

“It’s Raven now. I, uh, I took a new name. When I left the ship.” She took a deep breath, gathering more courage before continuing, “It really is me, though. No one ages on Neverland...I had no idea it had been so long until I recognized you.” Liam finally yielded, putting his sword away, but his hardened face showed no emotion at Raven’s explanation.

“Tal -” Killian stopped himself, before continuing without the use of her name, “We thought you were dead...we thought you’d - How did you even get here? Why did you never come back? Why'd you leave?” There it was, all the questions that Raven did not want to answer. Instead, she changed the topic to what she had really come for.

“It doesn’t matter. I came to tell you that you can’t take the dreamshade back to the Enchanted Forest. It’s too dangerous.” Her comment only made Liam scoff.

“Nice try Raven ,” He said, mocking the name, “But your suitor already tried. And I don’t mean to offend, but I’d rather believe my king than a traitor like yourself.”

Raven tried not to let his comment affect her, instead trying again to persuade him. “Look, you don’t need to forgive me. After today, you never need to see me again. Just trust me one last time-”

“Trust you? You abandoned us! How can I trust you? You know-” He paused for a moment, taking a menacing step towards Raven, “I wish you had walked off the plank like we thought for all those years. At least then I could remember you as a friend, instead of knowing the truth of your bad form.”

Killian’s eyes widened at his comment, and at the fury that was appearing in Raven’s eyes. He took a step back from the pair, sensing the argument would only get more heated.

Raven began yelling this time. “Bad form? The only bad form here is trying to win a war for a ruthless, idiotic king by cheating! You have absolutely no idea what I was going through on that ship-”

Liam cut her off once more, yelling even louder than she, “Yes I do! I know exactly what you were going through because you were my best friend! I told you everything and you did the same! I thought we had a future, but you - Did you even care for me at all?   Did you not think for one moment how you leaving would affect me?

“You know what,” Raven began walking away from the brothers as she spoke, “Go ahead! Kill everyone with the dreamshade. Kill the other army, kill your own army, kill yourselves with it! May the last thing you think of when the poison takes over your heart be regret. You can die thinking about how the traitor Talia was right! ” With her final words, she disappeared from their sight, heading back to camp.

~~~ Present Day ~~~

“How are you holding up, mate?” Hook asked David, who was very obviously struggling as they walked.

“Just fine. Perfect. Why would anything be wrong.” David replied, glancing back at Raven as he tried to appear in perfect health.

“Yeah, you don’t need to fake it. I know you’ve been poisoned by dreamshade.” Raven said, making David stop walking and look at Hook with anger.

“You told her?!”

“He didn’t have to, mate. It’s obvious to anyone familiar with the side effects.” Despite Raven’s assurance that Hook hadn’t broken what little trust David had put in him, the prince felt no need to apologize, instead answering Hook’s original question.

“Don't worry about me. Just worry about getting us to the sextant.”

“As entertaining as that was, I wasn’t talking about the poison. I meant the good-byes. Looked a bit stormy back there.” David began walking again, letting the other two follow behind him.

“I did what had to be done, and I did it out of love. Emma and Mary Margaret will understand that.” He explained, before stopping once more at a nearby tree.

“I hate to break it to you, but-” Raven started, before Hook cut her off.

“You’re gonna tell them that from beyond the grave.” He said, earning a glare from the girl.

David looked at the two of them once more before correcting, “No. You are. You two are gonna tell them that I died a hero, fighting for their way home. What you're not gonna tell them is that I left already a dead man.”

“You don’t think your family deserves the truth?” Raven asked.

“What do you know of family?” Hook muttered, although he made no effort to hide the comment from Raven. In return, Raven hit his arm as hard as she could.

David, ignoring the childish exchange, answered Raven’s question. “Their last memories of me won't be of a liar.”

“Why should I help you?” Hook asked. Raven was surprised at his question, considering the whole point of this journey was to save David’s life.

David chuckled at the question before answering, “Well, if you didn't steal that bean, they wouldn't have had a chance to take Henry, we wouldn't be on this island, and I wouldn't be dying of dreamshade.”

“Nice going, Hook.” Raven muttered. This time, Hook hit her arm.

“Fair point.” He replied to David, “At least you got to say good-bye. Most people don't get that much.” David paused for a moment, before looking back at Hook. Hook kept walking, taking the lead before David spoke again.

“You lost someone, didn't you?” Hook glanced at Raven for just a single moment before ignoring David’s question. If David noticed the exchange, he didn’t say anything.

“This is where we ascend. I'll climb ahead and throw down the rope.” Raven looked up at the peak, remembering the horrible day she had been there with Hook and Liam. David and Hook kept arguing as Hook began to climb up, but she didn’t pay much attention. She wished more than anything she could go back, make her last words to Liam anything other than what she had said.

~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

When Raven returned to the Lost Boy’s Camp, she was fuming. Their numbers were few, as Pan had only recently begun recruiting people to permanently stay on the island, so there was plenty of room for the Lost Boys to stay the hell away from Raven as she stormed about. She was muttering to herself, complaining about how “Liam think’s he’s all that,” and “Of course he became a fucking Captain,” and how, “He’s just some king’s little bitch.”  

When Pan noticed his Raven’s mood, he turned to Felix for answers.

“I think she talked to the adults that showed up earlier.” Was the only answer Felix had for him.

“Well I knew that much, you idiot-”

“I can hear you two!” Raven snapped, cutting off Pan. Pan winced, turning around to see Raven staring right at them. He sent Felix off with a look, before walking over towards the girl.

“So..care to explain?” He asked, sitting next to Raven on a log.

“They’re idiotic adults who are going to end up killing their entire country-”

“Not that, Raven. Clearly you know them.”

Raven sighed, looking down at her hands before telling the truth. “We lived on that ship together. They were my friends. Now they’re idiotic adults who would rather trust some dumb king than their oldest friend.”

“You lived on the- you said there weren’t any boys on the ship!” Pan exclaimed, remembering the first night he met Raven. When she glared at him, he conceded. “But that’s not important now….you tried your best to tell them the truth. It’s up to them now.”

“I just want them off the island. As soon as possible.” This made Pan grin. Sounds like a good game, and Pan loves a game.

“Now that, I can do for you.”

~~~ Present Day ~~~

Raven and David watched as Hook climbed up the mountain. The plan was for Hook to climb up and throw a rope down so David could make it up the mountain. Raven’s job was just to make sure he stays alive until then. Hook had wanted Raven to just “poof” them up to the top, as he put it, but Raven insisted that it would be better to avoid any magic, as Pan can trace it easily.

Hook was nearly all the way up the mountain before David made any attempt at conversation.

“So...how long have you known Hook?” He asked, making Raven look away from the climbing pirate.

“Uhhh.. I’m not sure.” Raven answered honestly, “I’ve probably been on this island for hundreds of years.”

“Well sure..it’s just that you two seem close.”

“Close?!” Raven repeated, unsure if she’d heard David right. “Hook and I are nowhere near friends, I’m not sure where you got that idea, mate.”

“I don’t mean that you’re friends, I just mean that you argue more like you’re siblings than enemies.” David’s observation made Raven go quiet. “C’mon, I’m a dying man. And I’m curious.”

Raven scoffed at David’s attempt to get her to tell the truth, but decided to tell him anyway. “Hook and I knew each other before either of us came to Neverland.”

“What, like, when you were kids?”

“I’m still a kid, thank you very-” Raven suddenly sensed the presence of Pan, making her stop talking. She looked around the forest, before realizing that Pan was at the top of the mountain with Hook.

“What is it?” David asked, sensing her concern.

“Pan’s up there.”

“How do you know? Is Hook ok?” David asked.

“I just know, ok. And I’m not sure about Hook...but he hasn’t thrown the rope down. Think you can climb without it?” Raven asked, but before she even finished the question, David was slowly beginning to climb. “Guess that’s a yes…” She mumbled, before pulling her hands on the rocks and pulling herself up.

~~~

tag: @peculiarinsomniac 

#peter pan #peter pan ouat #peter pan fic #peter pan x oc #ouat fic #ouat season 3 #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a time fic

[wildwarcat]

Warhawk: The Second Avenger

Alright y’all, I’ve been meaning to post this for months and I finally got around to it. This fic is available only on Fanfiction.com under the title above. If you like the prologue, which I’ve posted below, definitely check it out on Fanfiction. This is NOT a reader fic, it’s a preview of an OC-centric fanfiction posted on another site. Enjoy!

Words: 4k

Warnings: Language, implied smut, references to homophobia

Chapter One 

Prologue

"The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of life, himself a light." ~ Felix Adler

Edwards Air Force Base, June 1987

I could not have asked for a more beautiful day than that of June twenty-second, 1987. I arose to the usual sound of my alarm clock at 0600 and was greeted by rays of an early summer sun shining down on the picturesque form with which I shared my bed. Captain Carol Susan Jane Danvers, a woman with a knack for flying and a personality as fiery as the afterburners of an F-15 snored gently next to me. Her long, blonde hair cascaded around her face in waves, framing her perfect features as she slept through the alarm. I reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her snoring stopped and a small giggle escaped her. Her beautiful brown eyes opened a sliver.

"Well, now I know you're not sleeping anymore." I laughed quietly, my hazel eyes gazing adoringly at her. She scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

"At least I get to open my eyes and see you lying next to me." She muttered into my chest, "Although, it'd be pretty nice to kiss my girlfriend when I see her on base later."

I sighed and pressed a kiss into Carol's hair, "You know we can't. Not if we want to keep our jobs. It's hard enough being women in the military. But if those shitheads knew about us, baby, they'd tear us to pieces."

Carol groaned, her face still buried in my neck. I laughed again and flung the covers off the both of us and slipping out of her grasp. Making my way into the bathroom before she could tackle me and drag me back into bed, I locked the door behind me and ran a hand through my tousled golden brown hair. My fatigues were folded on a towel rack next to the shower, my unit beret sat on the sink. Being a pilot, Carol was only seen wearing her flight suit on base, but being a part of command for the 31st TES like myself required a frequent change in attire. Dress uniform, fatigues, flight suit, repeat.

"Open up!" Carol rapped harshly on the door, "I need to shower."

"After what we did last night, I think we could both use one." I joked, unlocking the door. She burst in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before she turned the shower on.

"Paige Rose MacDowell, just what are you implying?" She asked me with a sultry tone, her brown eyes sparkling as she began to strip.

"Exactly what you're thinking, beautiful." I smirked, grabbing a brush and beginning to work through the knots in my hair, watching as her perfect form entered the shower.

As soon as I arrived on base, a Lieutenant Colonel, whose name I didn't know, dumped a touring group of potential recruits on me. As badly as I wanted to say no and take off running in the other direction, I took over the tour with a stiff smile, leading the group toward the tarmac.

"Anyone here interested in being a pilot?" I asked over the rumbling of F-15 engines. A majority of hands went up in the air. I even caught a glimpse of a few girls amongst the boys, hands raised up high.

"Well, first things first, y'all need to be accepted into the Air Force Academy or join a collegiate-level ROTC program. After you graduate, you'll be commissioned as Second Lieutenants, after which you can declare your intention to become an Air Force Pilot. Unfortunately, women aren't permitted to fly combat missions, but we have several test pilots here at Edwards that are women."

A pair of F-15s flew overhead, sending a rush of air over us. I smiled as I watched the jets move up into a barrel roll. I pointed the jets out to the group.

"In fact, two of our female pilots are flying right now: Captains Danvers and Rambeau."

"Major! Major MacDowell!" A newly minted Lieutenant... Rhodes, I think his name was, came jogging toward me, calling my name over the roar of the active tarmac.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" I asked him, gesturing to the tour group, "I'm very busy."

"I've been sent by Colonel Kissinger to inform you that you're to meet with him in his office immediately." The young soldier panted as he slowed to a brisk walk. I glanced warily over at the boy.

"This isn't another one of Captain Danvers' pranks, is it?"

The young man shook his head and handed me a folded piece of paper, "No, ma'am. He gave me this for you."

I unfolded the paper and saw that there was only two words printed on it.

'Project Rebirth.'

The words were unfamiliar to me. I didn't know what they meant. We were working on Project Pegasus here at Edwards, whatever this Project Rebirth was... it was something that I hadn't been briefed on.

"Lieutenant Rhodes, would mind taking over this tour for me? Just show them the hangar, let 'em take a look at a few F-15s up close, answer any questions. My sincerest apologies, folks, but this is an emergency."

I turned on my heel and took off running toward Colonel Kissinger's office, making it there in record time. I straightened my beret before stepping inside and giving the aged colonel a salute.

"Major Paige MacDowell, reporting, sir." I said sharply.

"At ease, Mac." Kissinger replied, standing up from his desk chair and making his way over to me. We shook hands and Kissinger immediately led me out of the office.

"What's going on, Bart? What's so urgent that you pulled me away from duties?" I asked, handing back his note. Kissinger said nothing, he simply opened the door to a conference room and stepped aside. I walked in, but when I turned around, I saw that Colonel Kissinger hadn't followed me inside. The lock on the door clicked, trapping me in the conference room.

"Major MacDowell," An unfamiliar, gravely voice addressed me from the other side of the room. There was an immediate air of distrust as I turned to see a man standing at the head of the conference table, a man I did not recognize. He was stout, with a terrible bowl cut on his pudgy head, and beady brown eyes. He wasn't dressed in a military uniform, but in a lab coat, on which the name Otto Octavius was stitched.

"My name is Dr. Otto Octavius. I've been employed by the United States military for a secret scientific project."

"Project Rebirth." I said quietly, taking a seat at my end of the table.

"Correct." Octavius took his own seat and folded his hands in front of himself, "I trust that aside from the name of the project, Colonel Bartholomew Kissinger told you no other details?"

"No, Doctor. He didn't." I answered politely.

Octavius smiled a grisly smile, "Excellent. Allow me to explain. I'm sure you're aware of the story of one Captain Steve Rogers?"

"Of course, who isn't?"

"Indeed. After Dr. Abraham Erskine, the lead scientist on the project, was killed, his Super Soldier Serum formula was believed to be lost forever. But, thanks to the efforts of a few select minds, we have successfully recreated the serum. The military has created a shortlist of soldiers who display exemplary qualities reminiscent of Captain Rogers, and from that list they have selected you to be our subject."

"So... what?" I deadpanned, leaning back in my chair and giving him a cold stare, "You expect me to crawl into a pod, get injected with a serum you aren't sure will work, and get blasted with Vita-Rays that could very well kill me? All because the big wigs selected me from a shortlist of soldiers who are nice?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds crude and inhumane." Octavius replied, chuckling a little to himself, "But there is no need to be concerned, my friend. We reverse engineered the serum using samples of Steve Rogers' blood. It is perfectly safe. And after looking over your record, I doubt you'll have any trouble enduring the physical strain the injection will put on you. Following the procedure, you will be assigned your first covert mission by General Chain. I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight, the procedure will take place at 0700 tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I stood from my chair and glared down at him, "I can't just drop everything on a whim to be a part of some science experiment! I have friends and family that will wonder what's happened to me!"

"Major, you have twenty-four hours to notify only your closest relatives and friends of your situation. Only those you can trust prior to the procedure should be informed."

I tried to come up with a decent counter-argument, but found that my mouth had gone dry, as though it had been stuffed with cotton.

I sat back down, "If I do this... I'm not gonna be like him. I'm not Captain America. For Christ's sake, my callsign is Warhawk, what does that tell you about me? I'm no Star-Spangled Woman. And I won't be turned into one. You turn me into a super soldier, and it'll only blow up in your face in the long run."

Octavius smiled, "I'd expect no less of an answer from one of the handful of women who served in the Invasion of Grenada. Now, no fluids or food of any kind beginning at 1800 hours tonight, absolutely no alcohol for the next twenty-four hours. You may bring one person with you to the procedure, should you feel the need to have a witness present." Octavius said, standing from his own chair and making his way over to me. He extended his hand, which I shook out of sheer politeness, before handing me a file, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Major MacDowell. I shall see you bright and early tomorrow."

He went to the door, knocked three times and the door unlocked. The doctor left, and soon I followed, greeted by Colonel Kissinger on the other side of the doorway.

"Are you alright, Major? You're looking a bit pale." Kissinger asked me.

"Fine, Colonel. I just need an hour or two to process what I've just been told." I replied, straightening up a bit and returning to my office. Maybe a bit of paperwork would pull my mind away from the suddenly lingering sensation of dread that had set in me during my conversation with Otto Octavius.

Returning home from base was less than delightful. I had made it my personal mission to avoid Carol and Maria all day. Dr. Lawson agreed to be my witness for the procedure, but that didn't stop me from staying late in an attempt to delay having to explain everything to Carol.

"Took you long enough to get home." Carol called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped through the threshold. She ran out to meet me, a couple of beer bottles in hand. I sidestepped her and set my things down in my study a few doors down the hall. Carol followed me, shoving a beer into my hands as soon as they were free.

"You look like you could use a drink, babe." She smiled, pressing her lips to mine quickly.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't." I apologized, handing the bottle back to her.

"Of course you can! Just-" She raised her own bottle and took a long swig. She held the second bottle out to me and looked at me expectantly.

"No, Carol, I really can't." I said, pushing her hand away, "We need to talk."

She set both beer bottles down on my desk and grabbed my hand. For the first time in the years that I had known her, concern flooded her face, her brown eyes wide. I took a deep breath, gave her hand a firm squeeze.

"The higher ups are rebooting the Super Soldier Program. I'm their test subject. I go in for the procedure tomorrow."

I waited for the explosion of anger that usually followed any news Carol wasn't informed of at an earlier notice, but it never came. Rather, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, a pair of lips met mine with a ferocity and intensity unlike any I had experienced before.

"I love you." She blurted out as soon as she pulled away. I tensed up; we hadn't gotten that far in our relationship before. I must've looked like I was going to throw up or something, because Carol's face grew concerned again, "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." I choked out, setting a gentle hand on her cheek, "Better than okay, actually. I... I love you too."

She smiled, that signature lopsided, cocky, adorable half-grin that made me melt every time she sent it my way. I set an arm around her waist and led her toward the kitchen.

"C'mon. Sit down, finish your beer, and I'll give you the details."

I told her everything. About Octavius and Project Rebirth, about General Chain. She listened silently for the most part, maybe an occasional question here or there. When I was done, I waited for her to say something, anything. When she did, it was only a simple question.

"So... you're gonna become Captain America?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her empty beer bottle, tossing it in the trash, "Not exactly. I'll be more of a new and improved version of myself. The way Octavius put it, it sounds like I'll become the best version of myself."

"You said you could bring someone with you. Do you want me to come?" She asked, a twinge of hope in her voice. I shook my head.

"I don't think I want my girlfriend seeing me in immense pain as I'm battered with Vita-Rays. I called Dr. Lawson earlier; she'll be my witness." I told her, taking her hand as I sat next to her again, "But I don't know when I'll see you again after this. General Chain is sending me on my first covert op as soon as I step out of that pod."

Carol leaned over, pressing her forehead to mine and letting her beautiful brown eyes flutter shut, "Then we better make tonight as memorable as possible."

The sun was just beginning to rise as I slowed my truck to a halt in the parking lot of the Stark Industries Research and Development Park. The file that Dr. Octavius had given me contained only a single piece of paper with directions to the park and the time of the procedure. I stepped out of the truck and made my way to the front door, where an unfamiliar man stood waiting for me.

"Major, I'm Agent Fury, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

I smirked, "Ever thought about just calling your agency, S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"We've considered it." He replied, holding the door open for me. I stepped inside and let Agent Fury take the lead, bringing me down the empty hall into a maze of research labs and test rooms.

"Has Dr. Lawson arrived?" I asked him.

"I wasn't informed of it, Major. I'm just here to bring you to the lab. I won't be in the room for the procedure, Director's orders." Fury explained, coming to a stop in front of one of the research labs near the rear of the building, "Good luck."

I nodded once and opened the door. When I walked in, every scientist and government official in the room froze, eyes locked on me for a moment, before they went back to work.

"Major MacDowell." A woman's voice, clearly British and one I didn't recognize, approached me. I turned to see an older woman walking toward me, her eyes kind yet fierce, her ruby red smile polite. She extended her hand which I shook firmly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Peggy Carter, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We'll be working very closely after today, so I thought it ideal to be here for your procedure."

"Director Carter, it's an honor. My father served in the 107th, I grew up hearing stories about you and Captain Rogers." I told her. At the mention of Rogers, her gaze turned sad, but it returned to its original state just as quickly as it had changed.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of our associates." She offered, leading me out to the main floor, "You've already met Dr. Octavius, of course, and General Chain, I'm sure you're familiar with. Here, we have Howard Stark-"

Of course I knew who Howard Stark was, anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew who he was. He wasn't the spry, handsome, young playboy he once was, but he still had an air of brilliance about him; an air he had most definitely passed on to his son, Tony. Stark smiled warmly at me and shook my hand.

"Major MacDowell, we're looking forward to seeing what will become of you after today." He said, "Though, I doubt anyone could top the efforts of Steve Rogers. No offense."

"None taken, Mr. Stark."

"Please, call me Howard." He insisted.

"Then by all means, everyone here should call me Mac. My entire battalion does." I smiled.

"At least there's someone here who isn't trying to turn into a carbon copy of Rogers." A nasally voice remarked from across the room. Leaning against a set of computers was a man about twenty or so years younger than Stark, with a bit of a bored expression on his face.

"And this is Dr. Hank Pym. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s consulting scientists." Director Carter said politely. He didn't wave or anything, but I acknowledged him with a small nod, which seemed to be enough for him. As she began to list of the names of a few other military officials and a couple of senators, I found my gaze drawn to the pod at the center of the room.

This was happening... it was really happening.

"Major, are you ready?" Stark asked me. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Excellent." Dr. Octavius walked over to me and shook my hand, "Please remove your shirt, shoes and dog tags."

I did as instructed, leaving on only my fatigue pants and a black sports bra. The pod lowered itself until it was parallel to the floor, Octavius motioned for me to lay down on it. I looked up at the observation room that sat in the northwest corner of the room, letting out a small sigh of relief when I saw Dr. Lawson standing there next to General Chain. She offered me a small nod of reassurance and I set myself down on the bed. A couple of nurses began prepping the serum while another one prepped my shoulder for an injection.

"Nurse Reilly will now administer a precautionary dose of penicillin." Stark informed me as the nurse sent a needle deep into my arm and hit the plunger.

"Let's get this over with then." Pym sighed. Director Carter made her way up to the observation room while Stark grabbed a microphone and began to give a little spiel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, officers and senators, welcome. While it may seem like a lifetime ago, it wasn't so many years back that I stood in a room similar to this to witness the rebirth of Captain Steven Grant Rogers. And today, we are here to witness the rebirth of the super soldier era. Major Paige MacDowell, today you become not only the first in a new line of soldiers, you become the first in a new line of heroes."

There was a bit of applause from the observation room before Stark set the microphone down and turned to Octavius.

"Dr. Octavius, let's begin."

Injection pads lowered themselves onto my shoulders, my stomach and my legs with the press of a button. With the press of another, small cylindrical vials filled with bright blue liquid began to drain. There was a sharp, pinching pain all throughout my body, as though a lightning bolt had been sent through me. The pod began to lift me up until I was perpendicular to the ground. After a minute or two the pain subsided.

"Serum injection complete. Preparing for Vita Radiation." Octavius announced. The pod began to close itself, sealing me inside. Once the pod locked shut, someone knocked on it from the other side.

"Mac, you okay in there?" Howard Stark's muffled voice asked me.

"Yeah," I replied loudly, "Though I think I may be claustrophobic after this."

I heard a few laughs on the other side, I must've been mic'd up. Suddenly, the small window that I had became invisible as a white light filled the pod. At first, the presence of the light sent a tingling sensation through my body. But as the light became brighter, the tingling became a dull, steady pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light continued to grow brighter and pain grew sharper. I bit back the desire to yell in pain until it became too unbearable to handle. The sound that escaped me was unrecognizable, almost animalistic, but it fell away almost instantaneously when the light disappeared and the pain subsided.

The pod opened up with a steam-filled hiss and suddenly a rush of cool air greeted me. Stark and Pym rushed over and helped me down when the injection pads removed themselves. From a glance, I realized that I now stood an inch or two taller, so that I matched both scientists in height. I looked down and saw a well-defined four-pack, in fact, every muscle in my body seemed to have been given a major tune up. I felt... new, like I was a mint condition action figure just taken out of the box.

Director Carter and General Chain came jogging out of the observation room, Lawson seemed frozen in place.

"How do you feel, kid?" Pym asked me as we came to a stop.

"Fantastic." I panted, a dopey grin on my face, "Like I could do a triathlon and run straight into a marathon without breaking a sweat."

"That's good to hear." General Chain said, "Because from here on out, you work for Director Carter."

My grin fell away, delight replaced by confusion, "What do you mean, Chain?"

Carter smiled softly, "I believe the good general means to welcome you to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent MacDowell."

"So when you said we'd be working closely, this is what you meant." I said in understanding. I paused for a moment, then looked her in the eye, "Working under a woman of your caliber will be an honor. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it without question."

"Spoken like a true soldier." She remarked, a playful smile gracing her lips, "But you're not a soldier anymore, Paige. You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, which means that you're first and only priority is doing what you believe is right to make the world safe. Is that clear?"

"As crystal, ma'am." I answered. She extended her hand to me. I shook it, and followed her out of the room, into a new chapter.

#carol danvers x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marveledit #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanov x reader #avengers x reader #original character #avengers endgame #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #peter parker x reader

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #13)

(cw: graphic descriptions of wounds) <-Previous | Next-> ----------

01/01/88   10:54 PM

Hey.

It’s not really an everyday thing to begin with, finding an Easter Egg, so it’s gotta be a shock finding one half-dead on your doorstep.

A Nicelander’s scream startled me awake. By the time I saw her, she was already hopping out of view and calling Fix-it for help. The Nicelanders’ patented annoying catchphrase even slipped out, that grating “Fix it, Felix!!” Which, to these little squares, could be the equivalent of wetting their tiny pants. She called up to his apartment around the corner, and I heard the fire escape rattling as he hurried down, but Wreck-it actually got to me first.

That is to say, he saw me first. He lumbered to the bottom of his bricks a good distance away, and just stopped dead in his tracks. I wasn’t in love with the idea of him seeing me like that, used and abused and all, but I couldn’t really do anything about it. His face turned white as I stared back at him, and he was clearly at a loss, anxiously waiting for Fix-it to come down and deal with me. If I were to give him the benefit of the doubt, I would say that he kept his distance because he knew his hulking fists were the last things I needed. If not, I’d say it was because he’s a big squeamish baby who’s scared of a little blood. 

Could be both, I guess.

Gasps and screams spilled around the corners of the building as more Nicelanders flocked in, but I didn’t bother looking until I heard the very effeminate shriek of my cousin. He rushed up and overflowed with whispers of “Mavy,” and “Oh my land,” and “Good gracious,” you know, the works. At first, it was like he was trying to decipher the situation just by looking at me, which I think could be some kind of party game -- Mangled Mavis: Guess with your eyes, win a cool prize.

But then he wanted to guess with his hands. He reached out, and I jabbed him in the gut with my walking stick. The Nicelanders gasped, and he coughed, but he didn’t seem shocked. He took that as a scolding for not fixing me first, so he pulled out his hammer. I just jabbed him again. He wheezed out, “Why, Mavy?”

It almost made me smile.

I just didn’t want him to patch me up while everyone watched. I hated being reduced to some object of their morbid curiosities -- the Nicelanders don’t actually care what happens to me, and they never have. They only ever want something juicy to talk about in their boring-ass lives. A broken brush and your name cut into my body made a juicier morsel than they’ll ever deserve. Hell if I was gonna give it to them.

I still couldn’t quite speak, but Fix-it got the hint after a good deal of obvious gestures. He let me into the back of Niceland once I’d gotten to my feet (having insisted on doing it myself), and made me wait inside for a moment while he addressed the crowd. I heard him tell everyone not to worry, that everything was alright, that I just needed some space right now, and that they should all just go back to their apartments for the night. Maybe the Nicelanders couldn’t tell, but he was freaking out hardcore. I could hear it in his voice. I was not looking forward to that getting worse as the evening went on. 

He’s so impossible to deal with when he’s worried. Things panned out even worse than I anticipated. 

After a sufficiently awkward elevator ride, we arrived in his apartment, which was just as freakishly pristine and tidy as the last time I saw it. I sat on his couch, he sat on the coffee table in front of me, and he asked what in the world happened. He wasn’t satisfied when I just shook my head, but he healed my cheeks for me, anyway.

As he asked more questions, like if I’d gotten in a fight, and how long I’d been waiting by the door, I just sat there stewing in how much I didn’t want to talk to him. Whatever had just happened to me, I didn’t want to say a word about it to anyone. All sorts of pitiful labels were already being slapped on me left and right: “Delusional,” “hysterical,” “heartbroken,” “junkie,” and so on. The last thing I wanted to do was add “victim” to that list. 

So I didn’t tell him. Big deal. He could heal me without knowing I was almost murdered. 

But he couldn’t heal my injuries without seeing them. That was the catch -- I didn’t want to show him, either, but I had to suck it up. The wounds were just too… intimate, you know. Aimed to hit me in a very personal way. I wish I could say that they didn’t succeed. 

Nonetheless, I opened the little smock-sack on the cushion next to me. Therein sat what was left of my tools -- the bundle of splinters and the split golden can still flashing with binary. Fix-it made a sound like someone poured cold water on him. I even heard him breathe “Sweet Nana Litwak,” which is a pretty harsh curse coming from him. Then, of course, came the grave stares, whispered questions, and more futile attempts to put the metaphorical pieces together. His hands kept hovering around my tools like they were some dead animal that he was too mortified to decide what to do with. Watching it just brought my headache back.

Just when I started reaching for my walking stick, he came to his senses and repaired it all. Brush, paint can, and smock. Then, I think I made a sound like someone poured hot water on me. My tools erupted with intense pins and needles and I broke into a sudden sweat. It was like my code was spinning and grinding itself back into place, and the friction could have sent smoke out my ears. It did not feel nearly as good as I would have liked.

Finally having my tools back, though, was relieving in ways I can’t even describe. After seeing them in pieces, it felt like I was holding them for the first time all over again. You know how important they are to me. But until then, I don’t think I ever appreciated just how beautiful they are. I just wanted to hold onto them and never let go.  

With my tools whole and near, my right leg finally stabilized and took solid form again. All the pain from those bite wounds really woke back up. I wasn’t ready for it -- I didn’t even think about it, honestly -- and I yelped. Fix-it was on it instantly. For a minute, he was even blessedly free of questions.

Except the dumbass couldn’t get to the wounds, because he fixed my pants by accident. So I had to take them off.

That bothered him way more than it bothered me. His face was red as a beet. You know I’m not shy about my body. I’ve never understood the big deal -- it’s just a freakin’ body. But what was admittedly terrible about it was that, since my knees were still basically locked, he had to help me get my pants off. That image, that concept, still haunts me. But I take some comfort in the idea of my shredded legs haunting him. Once they were fully bare, all that beet red was sucked right out of his cheeks. He blanched so hard I thought his hair would turn white.

I’ll give him this much: They certainly were not for the faint of heart. I had grossly underestimated how bad they were through the tears in my pant legs. 

Two bites were so deep that I could actually see a little ridge of deep pink meat jutting out. My skin had been flayed off in several thumbprint-sized patches. There were dozens of puncture wounds in curved lines, gouges nearly an inch long, claw marks like long, dirty blisters, and weaving through it all was a tangle of blackening purple welts that bled into feverish reds and nauseous yellows. And of course, they were absolutely covered in dried blood and dirt and Devs know what else.

I definitely deserve a medal for walking anywhere with those.

After making sure he was not going to hurl all over me, Fix-it quickly set to work on my right leg. Each hit felt like a killer muscle cramp at first, but Devs, the fading of that pain was dizzyingly sweet. Then he had to sully it by speaking again. He asked an impressively stupid question: “Are these bite marks?” 

I didn’t really mean to answer. I think the pain relief had loosened me up enough for the door in my throat to open just a crack. As if the word had been loaded and ready from before, I just said, “Dogs.”

Fix-it jumped. I immediately regretted speaking when I saw the way he was looking at me, as if I’d been suddenly and miraculously cured of my lifelong muteness. He took it to mean that I was open to questions. They came flooding out again, way more insistent this time. To my dismay, he even stopped healing me in favor of interrogating me, and, amazingly, that didn’t earn him any answers. But for every second that I stayed quiet, he just escalated. He leaned towards me and really got into the hand gestures and kept trying to coax a reply out of me in this annoyingly urgent tone, “Mavy!” pause, “Mavy!” pause, “Mavy!!”

I’d had enough. I snatched up my walking stick, ready to give him a ‘back to work’ jab, but my blow didn’t land. Instead, the exchange (and, consequently, the evening) took a completely unexpected turn -- Fix-it caught the stick in his hand, yanked it away from me, and raised his voice.

“NO, Mavis! ENOUGH of this!”

He even dropped the nickname. 

I was too stunned to react. He tossed the stick out of my reach, and we were both quiet for a short-lived moment.

There are a lot of words coming up. I remember it all surprisingly clearly -- I mean, how often is it that Fix-it loses his temper -- but I’ll still be paraphrasing here.

Words sort of burst from his mouth, and it visibly shook him. He said, “This is just too much, Mavis! This is too much for you to give me the silent treatment right now! You can’t just keep me in the dark like this! I’m not your paramedic, I’m your cousin! I’m your family, Mavis!”

Yeah. Dramatic. Just like that, he lost me. I didn’t know when Fix-it would grasp these simple concepts: I am not touchy-feely, I absolutely detested the ‘F’ word, and I so genuinely, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, did not care. 

He kept going, but I didn’t catch a word of it. I figured I’d let him get it out of his system while I mentally checked out. I just stared at the ceiling, fruitlessly trying to process the last 24 hours. They didn’t feel real. They felt like a nightmare. But I’d been down that road already; I knew it was all real. It just wasn’t sinking in -- it was looming above me and sucking up my emotions like a sponge. There was a feeling, almost physical, telling me that it could all rain down at any second. It would weigh down the already crushing load on my shoulders, and just like that, it would be too heavy to bear anymore. I’d crumple beneath it. I’d break into a million pieces. 

I just… didn’t know what to think, what to do, what to feel. I was floundering.

I came back into Fix-it’s rant just as he was saying, “...even listening to me right now? Hey, young lady. Did you listen to a single word I just said?”

To say that I wasn’t in the mood would be a massive understatement. I tried to massage the ache out of my forehead and gave a “Mmhmm.”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Well, what have I been talking about, Mavis?”

“Something about…” I felt too sick to be witty. “...pies n’ hammers n’... blue shirts…”

“Do you think this is a joke?!”

I deadpanned, “It’s pretty funny.”

Fix-it is well-known for his long quarter queue, but by the look in his eyes, I could tell he was on his last coins. That famous patience was worn razor-thin. Kind of an accomplishment on my part, really, but I was too tired, sick, and an all around mess to enjoy it. He stood up and started pacing around the room, leaving me couch-bound with one useless leg. His voice wavered from an effort to keep his volume down. “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help everyone. I’m trying to be here for you and run this building-- this GAME, even-- and I feel like I’m not asking much, here! Why, oh why, are you deliberately making it so hard for me?”

“That’s,” I interjected, “what she sai--”

“MAVIS!!”

“Well, get to the point!”

He paused, sighed, and lowered his voice just a tad. “Look, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now. I know this has taken its toll on you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But Mavis, you’re not the only one affected by all this, you know!”

Now he had my attention.

The absolute nerve of him to say that, after what I’d just dealt with! As if any of his minor inconveniences and uncomfy feelings could even slightly compare! I had both of those points ready to throw in his face, but in my rage, I kind of forgot that I was, you know, wounded. I tried to jump to my feet and tell him off, but I didn’t get past “NOT THE--!!” before the pain dropped me back into my seat. Fix-it stepped forward, looking concerned, but I waved him off. 

Wincing through the pain, I said, “Is that a point you really wanna make right now?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Mavy, but please, let me finish. This is a really terrifying time for the whole arcade. Everyone’s been affected in one way or another, but, mostly, everyone’s just… scared. The Nicelanders have all been losing sleep over the thought of getting unplugged, and they look to me for reassurance and security, and I just… don’t always have it! How can I convince them that there’s nothing to worry about when, every night, you come home looking sicker than the night before, covered in cuts and bruises, with Devs know how many buffs in your system? I don’t even know what you’re really doing out there, and you won’t say a word to me about it! How can I tell them not to worry when I’m worried, too?”

“They’re worried I’ll go nuts.” I did not ask, but stated.

He tried to disagree, but he’s a terrible liar.

I continued, “They’re afraid that I’ll get their game unplugged. I know. Let ‘em join the freakin’ club forming out there. Think I don’t know what everyone’s saying about me? That it’s just a matter of time ‘til I lose it, too, and, as they’re so eloquently putting it --” I gave very heavy quotation marks, “-- go Turbo?”

I’m gonna be honest, here. Seeing your name in my handwriting feels… weird. I’ve actually been avoiding it until now, because… well, saying it out loud to Fix-it felt like a punch to the chest. Even he winced, but I’m not sure why.

It was a struggle not to shout as I went on.

“Oh, must be terrifying, being stuck in a box with a tickin’ time bomb. Every rough day I have just pushes me one step closer to the edge, is that it? It ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows out there, y’know. I won’t act like I’m having the time of my life just so your little babies don’t have bad dreams -- get ‘em freakin’ nightlights, for cuss’ sake! I could not give less of a crit about your NPCs’ emotional stability! Just do your job and fix it!”

Fix-it looked exhausted. “I’m trying to do my job right now! That’s all I’ve been doing since-- since--... you know! There are so many jobs to do, so many problems to fix, coming at me higgledy-piggledy from everywhere, and here I have my cousin digging her claws in the dirt!”

I was way more exhausted. “Well, gee, if I’m such a problem, why not fix two birds with one hammer and throw me to the curb!? I’m gone, Nicelanders are happy, your life’s freakin’ perfect again.”

“No, Mavy, that’s not…” He sighed and sat on the coffee table again. “No one wants that. I’m not here to just make you go away. Yes, my job is to fix things, but I don’t want to fix you. Right now, my job is to help you. That’s all I want to do. But, by golly, I need you to work with me on this. You’re not a problem. You just… have a problem.”

I’m not sure how he thought saying that would go. I’m not sure why he thought that would be an appropriate time to say it. But damn if he didn’t say it. I just glared daggers, daring him to elaborate. 

He suddenly looked anxious, and mumbled, barely loud enough to hear, “A… lot… of them…”

I wanted to fight him on that. I wanted him to point out everything that he thought was a problem, so that I could fight him on each and every one of them. Who gave him the authority to determine my problems? Who told him it was any of his Dev-damned business? How many times did I have to beat it into his head that I knew how to look after myself, even if it was not in his way? Too many freakin’ times -- so many, in fact, that just the thought of doing it again doubled my headache. As pissed as I was, I didn’t have the energy for that particular fight. I just wanted him to heal me so I could leave.

After a few tense minutes, he continued cautiously, “I’m so sorry, Mavy. All this… grief… hasn’t been kind to you. We can-- I can help you find ways to cope that aren’t so harmful. You don’t have to handle all this on your own.”

What a load of crap, I thought.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why, Mavy?”

The truthful answer to that would have been a whole other can of worms. “I just do. You couldn’t understand.”

He said insistently, “I could if you would give me a chance.”

I was more than ready for this conversation to end. He was giving me the heart-to-heart eyes, and I’d be in for a world of gross if I let that go unchecked. 

“Why would I let someone help me when the only reason they’re doing it is so their annoying-ass NPCs will shut up?”

He looked appalled. “How could you think--”

“Look, Fix-it. I can tell there’s a lot on your plate, so let me help you. Firstly, apart from stuff like this,” I pointed to my chomped up leg, “I don’t need your help, I don’t want your help, and will not accept your help, because I know, with full certainty, that you can’t help me. So you can cross me off your list and forget about it -- problem solved. As for the Nicelanders? You’re practically a Dev to them, dumbass, they’ll trust anything you say! You know I’m not dangerous, not… that way. You know I’m no threat to the arcade. Just keep telling ‘em that, and they’ll smarten up!”

Silence.

“I mean… you do know that, right?”

I have a bad relationship with silence. I’ve found, in my life, that the worst answers are the ones I don’t receive. The ones that make me fill in the blanks. It’s like the Devs don’t have the guts to give bad news to me straight. 

Or, in this case, Fix-it didn’t.

He tried to backpedal and reassure me, but I told him to save it. The pregnant pause already said it all. My heart sank into my gut at this revelation and everything it meant. Fix-it believed nothing but the best of me since day one. In all likelihood, I could have set him on fire and he would still say that I meant no harm by it. He trusted me, definitely more than anyone ever should. I guess I thought that would never change. But the loss of his faith in itself wasn’t really the issue; I didn’t really want his moral support. It’s just that he’s always thought more highly of me than anybody. If these rumors about me were so rampant and convincing that even Fix-it bought into them, then everyone did. If he didn’t believe in me anymore, then no one did. 

I was alone. I was really, truly alone. 

My understanding of reality turned over itself. In an instant, the arcade became nothing but a bunch of boxes jam-packed with sprites who wanted to kill me, peppered with ones who would actually try. Somehow, I felt like they were all watching me already, hundreds of burning eyes trying to smother me with the sheer volume of their hatred -- and it was working. The room around me started to swim. I could inhale and exhale, but I couldn’t breathe. If I had been standing, I would have collapsed. 

And then, in the midst of it all, I noticed Fix-it getting closer. Whatever willpower I had to deal with him was all but crushed. I had so, so much sickness in my head, churning and whirling like a tornado of black smoke. Next to all that, Fix-it was dwarfed. Insignificant. His presence just felt like a fly buzzing around my ears, which would have been annoying on a good day. In this case, it made me want to scream.

So I did.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” 

He jumped backwards, clear over the coffee table, with a ‘boing’. I obviously scared the cuss out of him, but still, the fright in his eyes faded into an expression that may or may not have been one of pity. I sure read it that way at the time.

“STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!!” I tried to get up again, to no avail. My leg was still wrapped in a vice of pain, and that squeezed my screaming back down to shouting. “When were you planning on telling me you’d turned your back on me?!”

Fix-it almost matched my volume, but it was obviously forced. He’s not known for his yelling. “I haven’t!! I believe in you, Mavis! But this isn’t you! You haven’t been you since-- since that day! That-- that spark in your eyes is just gone! I never see you eat, I know you’ve barely been sleeping, you don’t even frequent Tapper’s anymore -- all I hear about you is that you’re fighting, or-- or attacking sprites--”

“I never ATTACKED anybody!!”

“--taking buffs all the time, and snooping around other games! Mavis, a lot of sprites think you’re looking for a game to-- to-- you know!”

“And you believe that crap?!”

“No!” He paused. “I don’t want to believe it! But it’s the only side of the story I’m getting!”

I seethed. “You shouldn’t NEED me to tell you that I’m not a murderer!! Do you really think I’d do something like that?!”

“No, Mavis, I don’t! I just don’t know if I can rely solely on my own judge of character to keep my game safe now! I mean, we didn’t think--” he paused, avoiding your name like a curse word, “--didn’t think he was capable of that, either, but he still--”

“BUT THAT’S--!! HE WASN’T--!!” my stomach was twisting over itself. I felt just about ready to breathe fire. “Nevermind what HE did! We’re not talking about him, we’re talking about me! I’m still me! I can’t believe I have to spell that out for you! It’s like the whole arcade just got together and agreed that me being-- I don’t know, me being around him all the time just made us carbon copies of each other! Like I’m coded to be his-- his sequel or something! And you REALLY buy into that?!”

“No!”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO THE SPRITES THAT DO?!”

“I’m TRYING not to!” I half expected him to start pulling his hair out. “It’s hard when they’re the only ones actually speaking to me! I want to listen to you, but you won’t-- you won’t talk to me! I’m on your side, I really am, and I’m trying to stay there! But, darn it all, it’s like you’re trying to push me out! Let me be on your side! Let me help you through this! Trust me, so I can trust you! All I am asking is for you to just-- just--” he clenched his teeth and grasped at the air, “--TALK TO ME!!”

He was exhausting me of coherent thought. I was just running on a fun cocktail of mindless frustration and hopelessness. If I had a filter at any point, it had dissolved. Words fell straight from my head and into my mouth.

I shouted, “WHY?! What’s so SPECIAL about you?! You’re just a dime-a-dozen privileged GOOD GUY!! Living that cushy life of luxury, making more credits in a day than I do in a month, deluding yourself into thinking you’d still want to help a dirty wretch like me if it weren’t in your job description -- gimme a freakin’ break!! You wanna tell me I’m NOT ALONE, while you’re out there siding with them!? You don’t get to jump on the Mavis-hating bandwagon and then come back here, SPEWING THAT SAME TIRED CRAP ABOUT US BEING FAMILY!!”

I didn’t even realize what I’d said until the silence that followed it.

It was like his sprite froze. He just stared at me, with a look in his eyes like he’d been struck hard enough to leave a crack. The tell-tale face of emotional overkill.

As soon as I saw that look, I realized my mouth had gotten away from me. I’m so used to arguing with you, and your skin is way, way thicker than my cousin’s. He’s too decent for language like that. I can honestly say that cutting him that deep was an accident. But I can’t say that I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t say I was sorry.

After a pause that lasted far too long, wherein we both just tried to breathe evenly, he took up his hammer and finally set to fixing my left leg. He finished quickly and silently, and as I tried not to pass out from the onslaught of pain relief, he backed away and gestured to the door.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he said in a tone that sounded profoundly disappointed, yet somehow still polite. “If you need healing again, I’ll be here. But please come to me ready to talk. Take care of yourself, and be safe out there, Mavis.”

‘Out there.’ Those words made my blood run cold.

Something had shifted since I realized how alone I was. Up until that point, all I’d wanted to do was be healed and leave. But once he finally expected me to go, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I froze up. My guts twisted around inside me. I even caught myself gripping the couch, lest he try to force me out. Behind that door was nothing but a regular hallway, more doors, and an elevator, but it felt as if he wanted me to walk the plank into shark-infested waters. After being caught completely by surprise in Dragon’s Lair, I’d been hit with the chilling realization that I couldn’t trust my own senses. I couldn’t trust my own perception of safety. Someone could ambush me again, anytime, anywhere, and they could have a mind even sicker than the first offender. I needed a second pair of eyes to literally watch my back. Even if they were eyes I wasn’t sure I could trust anymore.

We weren’t exactly done yet, either.

I said, “Wait.” Fix-it looked at me, confused and a bit apprehensive.

The wound on my chest was the most personal of all. It stayed well hidden behind my weird cowl, and Fix-it didn’t bother asking why I wasn’t properly wearing a shirt -- I guess that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. I’d been dreading taking it off and showing him. If I bared those cuts, I’d be baring all the shame, the weakness, the worthlessness, degradation, humiliation... I’d be digging back up all the psychological terrors I’d just been forced through. I wasn’t even ready to face those again on my own, let alone open them up to someone else. But I had no choice. I had to lay it all bare in front of Fix-it and risk him painting me as a victim at best, or taking me for a maniac at worst.  

“Just…” I started, but had no idea what to say. I’m not one to really… you know, open up verbally. In the end, I’m always better at showing than telling, even in situations where I’d rather do neither. So there seemed little point in wasting time. If Fix-it was so bloody desperate for answers, he could find them written in my skin.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled the cowl off over my head.

I heard no reaction from him. I heard nothing at all, save for the thumping in my ears and that thick hum of an awkward silence. I put off opening my eyes for as long as I could stand to. Even just feeling his gaze on me was enough to drive me mad. But after another long, steadying breath, I opened my eyes. 

There was a ghost standing where Fix-it had been a second ago. He had gone white as a sheet, stiff with shock, one hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes were wide and glassy, and I just hoped to the Devs that he wouldn’t start crying. But I couldn’t get a good read on what he was taking away from the sight of me, and he just wouldn’t move. With every passing second, I became more and more anxious that all I’d done was prove myself a lunatic. If he didn’t do something, I was going to throw up.

When I tried to speak, to snap him out of it, I found my throat door locked once more. But I couldn’t sit in silence a moment longer. It took an unreasonable amount of effort to force words out, and even when I did, they were clipped and staggered. 

But I said to him, as clearly as I could, “I--... didn’t--... do this.”

Finally, his hand slowly fell from his face, and he took in a short breath that I almost thought he would hold forever, before exhaling, “Who… did this to you?”

I shook my head, wishing I had a real answer, and said, “I-- don’t know…”

I waited for another question, a response, anything, but he just fell silent again. There were gears turning in his head, and I couldn’t stand not knowing where they were going. Everything inside me screamed that they were going the wrong way. 

“I didn’t-- do this,” I restated, but when no response came, a heat rose in my belly and words boiled over. “I didn’t do this. This wasn’t me. I couldn’t have-- I didn’t want this. I didn’t do this to myself.”

There was a pause, and Fix-it might have spoken if I’d let that pause go any longer. Those few seconds of silence were enough to give the impression that he wasn’t listening to me, and that drove me right over the edge.

“You don’t--... This--...” I couldn’t breathe, again. “This wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t my fault! Stop-- Stop LOOKING at me like it was my fault! IT WASN’T! I DIDN’T DO THIS! IT WASN’T MY FAULT I DIDN’T DO IT THIS WASN’T ME IT WASN’T MY FAULT--!!”

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey,” Fix-it finally spoke up, albeit softly and cautiously. He slid closer, palms open, voice low, as if he were soothing some spooked animal -- kind of demeaning, but at least he was doing something. He sat in front of me again, his eyes wide in that painfully honest way, and took off his hat. “Mavis--”

I choked, “It wasn’t my fault.”

His hand moved to touch my shoulder, but he caught himself and drew it back.

“I believe you, Mavy.”

Part of me didn’t believe him. The rest of me wanted to take that sentence, curl over it in a hole somewhere, and sleep off this entire nightmare.

Fix-it didn’t ask me to leave again after that, and I didn’t try to go. We both silently agreed that I’d be staying the night, something I’d not done willingly in about four and a half years. He fixed my chest wounds, the bruises over my ribs, and the bump on my head. His hammer doesn’t exactly clean things, though, so he gave me a fresh towel and an extra pair of pajamas so I could shower while he threw my clothes in the wash. I wasn’t keen on wearing his fancy-pants rich boy pajamas, mostly because they belonged to him and that’s gross, but I welcomed the shower. I hadn’t bathed at all in a couple weeks.

I had no interest in seeing myself in the bathroom mirror, but it happened regardless. I still looked like a sick parody of myself, like some sullen, exhausted girl with greasy hair, caked almost head to toe in blood, dirt and sweat. Most of your name was still visible on my chest, but inverted, like clean lines scrubbed into a wall of dried blood. But there were lines on my face that were far more alarming -- streaks through the smeared blood on my cheeks, running down from my red, puffy eyes.

Apparently, I’d been crying.

I just hoped to the Devs that it hadn’t been for long.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #turbo #original character #homesick

[qvill-s]

Could I request Dimitri thinking he's going to lose his wounded f!s/o but then it's all okay in the end?? Cause your last one about the dream made me cry 😭

NOTES: you cried? good of course you can bb !!! i don’t mind getting a lot of requests for him bc i, too, love him immensely…

this is a bit (read: a lot) time skippy, so let me know if i need to distinguish the parts more !!!

WARNINGS: blood (but not too descriptive); wounds / injuries; typical wartime stuff

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

dimitri + a fatally wounded s/o right under the cut !!!

His first memories of you start with your mother’s voice uttering the words, “You are to be wed once you’re older.”

The two of you were about this high when you found out, hovering just a few inches below your mothers’ waists. Dimitri, at the tender age of seven, was unphased by the news. Political marriages were, of course, unavoidable, and though they locked any hope for a romantic future out of the picture, they were necessary.

You, however, ever the dreamer, were devastated by the news. From where you hid behind your mother’s skirts, he saw the first glimmer of tears well up in your eyes. At your ill-contained sniffle, your mother turned to admonish you, telling you to accept the fact that you were stuck in an uncompromising fate so helplessly entwined with his.

“It’s for the good of the people,” your mother scolded gently as you clung to her skirts, the tears finally spilling over your cheeks as you cried harder. In the face of your wobbly lip and white-knuckled hands and wet cheeks, he decided that he didn’t like fragile things.

Especially if they were fragile little things that cried over the unavoidable.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

He expresses his distaste for you in the smallest ways. 

He ‘accidentally’ excludes you from the games he, Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid play under the guise of forgetting to invite you. He politely declines any and all of your invitations to come play with his studies as his primary excuse to not go. He engages you in dry conversation when the two of you are forced to spend time together and the parents are watching, but once they leave he ignores you and goes back to doing his own thing.

Subtle gestures, inconspicuous cues to let you know that your sudden change of heart towards your engagement won’t change his.

You don’t seem to get the hint until the aftermath of the incident sees him housed in your estate. 

Your guest bedroom isn’t any less lavishly decorated than his own room, but for some reason, it’s homeliness feels little more than a fraud. The mountain of pillows pressed against the headboard looks smothering. The cushion he sits upon and the covers on the bed aren’t as soft as his own window seat. Your house colors pop up everywhere, it’s incessant presence is overwhelming, reminding him that he isn’t home, he isn’t home, he isn’t home—

Suddenly (as if everything wasn’t enough), he hears your own distinctive knock at the door. He fights the groan that threatens to escape his lips.

“Dimitri?” You call through the door, “Are you okay?”

Stupid question, he counters silently, eyeing a bluebird that chirps happily on the windowsill. Of course he isn’t okay.

“I’ve— I’ve got cookies and pastries and… and things. Mother says that you’ll need to eat soon.”

There is a beat of silence, before you try again with, “Dimitri? P-Please talk to me, it’s… Mother says it’s not good to keep everything to yourself.”

He doesn’t answer, observing instead the life that bustles in your backyard. He almost hates how clean and white your servants are dressed, how cheery and bright your gardens look, how your estate doesn’t reflect the massacre his own house had been subjected to.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and for the first time in that exchange, sound escapes him in the form of a small scoff. It’s a phrase he’s heard a thousand times over the course of two days—I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry that you had to go through such a thing at such a young age, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—and frankly, he’s quite tired of it. Too many people apologizing for what had happened as if it was through their own fault that his family died.

“I’ll… I’ll leave you alone.” Your voice sounds small, defeated, and he hears it clearly even across the distance that separates the two of you. Briefly, he entertains the idea that your apology isn’t like the ones he’s heard, but then your footsteps recede down the carpeted hallway, and that thought flies away on the wings of the bluebird on the sill.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜ 

You keep to your word.

You interact with him only when you need to, and in the face of your parents, you give him wide smiles and practiced words, expressing how happy you are to be in an engagement such as this.

When the two of you are sent to the Monastery, the divide between the two of your grows ever wider. He doesn’t hear his name come from your lips, doesn’t hear the way it curls around the syllables of his name, because you take to addressing him as your highness and my lord. You grace him with nothing more than polite smiles and gestures, and Dimitri finds that he misses the expressiveness of your youth.

He thinks that the way you treat him is no different from the other students at the Academy, until one day he chances upon you and Ashe out in the courtyard, locked in an animated conversation about a shared book in your repertoire of reading. He chances upon you covering your mouth with a hand as you laugh, the gentle touch you land on his shoulder, and the way your eyes gleam with a smile he hasn’t seen for years. He chances upon you catching his startled eye, the way your smile melts into something more guarded, and the courteous nod you send in acknowledgement.

It leaves him feeling strangely empty.

After that incident, he notices how your behavior towards him alienates him as nothing more than acquaintance with the rapidity of one noticing a dark stain against a white cloth. He notices how willingly, how eagerly you spend time with people other than him. He finds you cooking and baking with Mercedes and Annette, speaking of trade with Ignatz and Ingrid, gossiping over tea with Dorothea, and even caught an exchange of playful banter between you and Sylvain.

It takes him a while to realize that the empty feeling in his chest, the ache that hovers right over where his heart should be, is hurt. It hurts him, he realizes dimly, it hurts him to see that you are close to Sylvain, to Ashe, to everyone else except him.

It takes a lot longer for him to convince himself that he doesn’t mind—that he shouldn’t mind—because the two of you never liked each other anyway.

(Right?)

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Dimitri takes to the battlefield with an ease he doesn’t think he should have.

Now that five years have came and went, it’s much easier to give into his demons and the voices he hears in his head. It’s much easier to listen to their cries for revenge, to let his muscle memory and reflexes kick in and do the work for him.

He leads the charge, taking a backseat to his actions, watching impassively from the room behind his eyes. He ignores the sound of their screams and the squelch of his lance going through flesh, counting instead the graves he’s piled up behind him, hoping against hope that the number might one day satisfy the people who have died in his stead.

He doesn’t notice you until he hears the faint sound of your gasp behind him—a miracle in itself, because it’s difficult for him to escape the tunnel vision his bloodlust creates until the battle is done—and he turns to find a sword buried into your stomach. Your assailant dislodges his sword from your body with a grunt, and you fall to your knees with a whimper, clutching at your wound with both hands, your own weapon forgotten in the dirt beside you.

His heart lurches in his chest, and for a few moments, he is filled with a rage so blinding he doesn’t know what happens between that moment and the next. All he sees is a flash of red, and suddenly he’s cradling you in his arms and into his chest, calling for the nearest healer.

“Hold on,” he tells you, applying pressure to the bloody gash on your abdomen as he runs through all the possible ways this could’ve been avoided. The small part of him that shudders in the wake of his actions, the conscience that haunts him in his dreams, is appalled that you were hurt because of him, because of his carelessness, and his mouth quirks downward into a frown.

You mirror his expression, and the motion moves slowly across your features.

“You’re s-supposed to be happy,” you whisper, reaching a shaky hand up to his cheek. You run a thumb across the corner of his mouth, a feather-light touch that strangely leaves him wanting more, “Y-You should be smiling… Now”—you cough, and his panic rises a little higher, because he can see the blood that coats your teeth—“Now, you d-don’t have to marry me a-anymore…”

“Save your breath,” he admonishes harshly, getting more and more agitated by the second. (How long does it take for Mercedes to walk?) Your name leaves his lips in a panicked rush of breath,“You’re going to live.”

“—s-shouldn’t,” is what he catches from your slurred words, and it’s the last thing he hears from you for a while.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

He paces in the hallway outside of the infirmary as questions present themselves one after the other in his head.

What did you mean? What did you mean by he was supposed to be happy? Did you think he wanted you dead just to get out of your engagement? Is that why you threw yourself so foolishly into the path of the blade meant for him?

He paces and paces and paces, wearing down the stone floor of the hallway, your words echoing his footsteps, until at long last, Mercedes and her band of clerics call him in to discuss your condition. They tell him that the sword struck deep, that some of the deep and dark red of your lifeblood managed to spill out, that it’ll take a while for you to recover.

“You can stay if you wish, Dimitri,” Mercedes invites him kindly, pulling up a chair beside your bed before ushering everyone else out of the room to give you two your privacy.

When he sees you, you are as pale as the sheets you lie on, and when he takes your hand in his, it feels colder than it should be.

His fingers find the pulse on your wrist, pressing down until he feels it beat, albeit weakly, against the tip of his forefinger. He sighs heavily, a sound of tired relief, as he absentmindedly rubs circles into the muscle of your thumb, hoping to bring warmth back into your chilled skin. Your fingers twitch against his little one, and when he looks up at your face, you’re staring at him through drowsy, hooded eyes.

“D-Dimitri…?” You manage, weakly, your voice nothing more than a thin whisper in the stale wind of the infirmary. It’s the first time he’s heard his name from you in years, and he finds that it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

When he shakes himself out of his state of wonder, he remembers Mercedes’ words and helps you take a sip from the water by your bed, your hand clenched tightly around his all the while.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he tells you once you’ve settled back in. His face twists into another grimace. His gaze feels drawn to your stomach, to the place his negligence had hurt you, hidden underneath the covers of your temporary bed. He feels the weak pressure of your fingers closing tighter around his, and it’s the closest the two of you have ever been since you met.

“You’d… you’d be h-hurt,” you tell him, your fatigue seemingly making you more honest than usual, “D-Don’t want that… for you… Couldn’t b-bear to— to see it.”

Your words give him pause.

You— you cared…? All this time, were you—

And then, it hits him.

You’ve only distanced yourself from him because he’s given you reason to believe he didn’t want you. He is, and always has been, the culprit, the mastermind behind your separation, and he feels a pang of guilt knock against his heart.

He wonders when exactly it was that you came to love him as dearly as you have, to love him and wish for his happiness enough to disregard your future for the sake of his own. He wonders how long you were looking for such an opportunity, for a chance to release him from a fate he told you time and time again he detested. 

He can’t help but feel disgusted with himself and his actions, because he let you suffer in silence, because he encouraged your sadness and let it fester, because somewhere along the line, he fell in love with you too.

He has a million regrets, but his biggest one is that you had to receive a mortal wound to get the truth through his thick skull.

“Sleep,” he commands you gently, smoothing a palm over your hair with the lightest touch he can manage.

“Will— will you—?”

“Yes. I’ll be here.”

Satisfied with his promise, you give up the fight against your fluttering lashes, resting them against your cheek as your breaths slow to the steady ones of sleep.

When you wake, he decides, he will tell you the truth.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe #fire emblem imagines #fe imagines #fire emblem dimitri #fe dimitri #reader insert #y'all wanna know why i love hurting him so much #its bc he didn't come home in heroes even after i spent 200 orbs on him #THAT'S why

[iwhumpyou]

The Price (Part 3)

Masterlist.  Wergild.

Part 2.

~#~#~#~#~#~

He didn’t think she could do it.  Clarissa couldn’t do it, had reached as far as her hands breaking and had run away in tears, cradling her injured limbs.  It had taken weeks for it to heal and the suspicion had doomed their friendship.

She had never suggested trying again and Jace had taken the hint.

He would’ve done it. If he could, he would’ve shouldered the burdens of his entire clan to give them a better life.  But, no, it had be an elementalist.

It had to be a willing elementalist.  The caveat that had doomed them all.  No one was willing to do this, not when the curse had started to build and certainly not now, after all these years.  Coercion and threats didn’t work, never worked.  The curse could only be lifted by someone who truly wanted to. 

And then Clarissa’s little sister had skipped inside and rubbed salt in his wounds, rubbed them so deep he had trouble seeing straight.  She knew perfectly well he couldn’t kill her, no matter how badly his hands itched to shove six feet of steel through her heart.  Clarissa could forgive him a lot – had, indeed, forgiven him countless attacks and assaults – but her baby sister?  No, if Jace killed the girl, he could dig himself a grave.  

He couldn’t leave his people without a leader.  Not now. Not when Mirai was gasping out the last of her life.  Not when five of the six great clans were planning to meet and ratify a peace treaty. Not now.

If he couldn’t kill her, at least he could strip the truth from her words.  Anything, she had promised, a deal she couldn’t hope to keep. Let the little girl have a taste of what real life really was and when she went running back to Clarissa, Jace could honestly say she’d asked for it. 

“Jace,” Felix sidled up to him and he held up a warning hand.  The rest of his clan looked to him, to the girl gingerly placing her hands on the boulder and back to him.  They got the message.  No interference.

He watched coolly as the stone rippled, earth wrapping around her arms, going higher than it had with Clarissa, almost to the shoulder.  He watched, a hint of amusement on his face, waiting.

The stone surged and the girl slumped.  Her breathing was ragged.  She hadn’t screamed, Jace had to give her credit for that.  He shifted forward a step – he wanted to see her face when she admitted she couldn’t do it, when her empty promise turned out to be just that.

She never turned back.

Jace watched in growing confusion as water lapped around her distorted limbs.  This was not how it was supposed to go.  The girl wasn’t willing, everyone knew that.  There was no way she wanted to accept this pain. 

The water turned to ice and red dripped down her arms.  The harsh breathing grew louder, small whimpers the girl was clearly trying to suppress.

For what felt like an eternity, the scene was frozen.  The water, the whimpers, and the active silence of more than fifty people.

Then the flames sparked.

The girl started screaming, a high-pitched keening sound clearly audible over the shouts of his people. They looked at him again, several starting for the girl as if intending to pull her away.

Felix grabbed him and turned him away from the girl on fire.  “Jace, you can’t do this!” he yelled.

Jace looked at him. The flames had reached the girl’s shoulder now.  “I can’t stop it,” he pointed out, more calm than he felt, “I told her what wergild I would accept.  This was her decision.”

“She’s being burned alive!” Felix shouted.  The girl’s screams had reached a fever pitch.

“She is willing,” Jace said quietly, “Only a willing elementalist can break the curse.”

His people were looking at him with a combination of disgust and dismay.  He didn’t care.  If she could do this, if she could break this curse – if he could take his first breath of fresh air…

“Do you think Clarissa will see it that way?” Felix asked, his voice low and cold.

“I don’t care,” Jace shrugged him off, “She killed my sister.  She’ll break the curse in repayment.”  It was a spark of hope in the crushing darkness of his despair.  

“Clarissa will kill you.”

“Then I’ll follow Mirai to the stars, knowing that my people are protected and my clan is safe,” Jace said, meeting Felix’s gaze and narrowing his eyes, “Do you understand?”

Felix stepped back and lowered his head in acquiescence.  

The fire had stopped. Good.  He couldn’t see anything happening but the girl had her forehead pressed against the stone, unmoving.  Was the curse broken?  How could he tell?

The question was answered a second later – the boulder crumbled to pieces and sent out a shockwave. Jace staggered back amidst surprised cries – it felt like something inside of him was tearing, something was ripped away and out.  He regained his balance and inhaled sharply and – 

The air tasted clean.  He didn’t even know air could smell so pure.  He took another gulp, and another, until he was nearly dizzy.  He looked around him in stupefaction – had the leaves always been so green?  Had the sunlight always felt so warm, like a blanket around him?  Had the earth always felt so solid and supportive under his feet?

He met Felix’s gaze and saw all of his questions reflected in the half-wondering, half-stunned eyes. Was this truly what the rest of the world felt like?

“Chief,” a voice startled him from his reverie – a voice that sounded richer and deeper than it had before – and Jace turned.  Most of his people were wandering around in befuddlement, dazed expressions on their face as they turned in circles, but a few had drawn closer to the boulder.

It wasn’t a boulder anymore. It was a pile of rubble, and Jace could see a trickle of water through the debris.  The spring, the one his grandfather had talked about.  It had been here all along.

Crumpled at the edge of the pile of rubble was a dark, unmoving form.  As Jace got closer, he could see the red, bubbling, mutilated mess the girl’s arms had become.  

Clarissa was definitely going to murder him for this.

“What shall we do with her?” one of them asked.

Jace bit back his instinctive response – she killed his little sister, she deserved the deepest, darkest parts of hell – and took a breath.  She had broken the curse, upheld her promise.  She had given wergild and so the debt between them was repaid.  Jace had to treat her with the courtesy of a visiting guest, his honor would demand no less.

“Take her to the infirmary, tend to her wounds,” Jace said curtly, turning away himself.  He had traded his sister’s life for his people’s future – and he owed it to Mirai to tell her that much.

The infirmary was in chaos when he arrived.  The shockwave had not stopped in the clearing and Jace had forgotten to inform the rest of the clan about what was occurring.  He sighed – Felix would see to it.  He had only one priority now.

“Chief,” Irina stepped into his path, clearly frazzled.  He glared at her in annoyance but she ignored it.  “What is going on?  Has there been an earthquake?”

He looked past her, to the pallet where Mirai lay, her wheezy breathing the only indication that she was still alive.  “No,” he said impatiently, “The curse has been broken.  The boulder is rubble and apparently the spring our elders talked about was contained within.”  He sidestepped her and because her wide eyes told that she clearly wanted more information, he huffed, “You can go outside and get the details.”

He knelt at the edge of Mirai’s pallet and took her cold, clammy hand in his.  Her skin was ashen pale and beaded with sweat.  Her breath came out in harsh, painful rattles and her lips and fingertips were beginning to turn blue.  

The poison was a slow, painful death.  There was no cure for bluebell nectar.  The fall had paralyzed her from the waist down.  All his little sister could do was lie here and wait to die.

Jace lifted her hand and pressed it to his forehead, trying to escape the burning of his eyes.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his breath hitching, “I’m so sorry, little sister.” 

“Jace…”  He had never heard his sister so weak before.  Mirai was mischief and laughter and brightness wrapped up in energy and smiles.  The girl in the bed was a pale imitation of his sister and it broke Jace’s heart. “What happened?”

“I am so very sorry,” he said, closing his eyes, “So, so sorry, Mirai.”

“What did you do?” She was weak and in pain and hours from death but still quick on the uptake, “What did you do, Jace?”

He lifted his head and looked at her because his little sister deserved that much.  “The girl who stabbed you,” he said, stumbling over the words. 

“Nerali,” Mirai said faintly.

“Nerali,” Jace repeated. He supposed he would have to remember her name now.  “Nerali came here and offered her life as wergild,” he said, “For you.”  

Mirai’s next breath was harsher than the last and her fingers grasped at him as she stared, her eyes wide.  “No, Jace, tell me you didn’t.”  When she didn’t get a response, she clutched at him, “Clarissa will murder you and we will both have died for nothing.”

“I told her that her miserable little life was not worth yours,” Jace said and watched his sister relax and slump back.  “So she promised me anything that she could give me as wergild.”  Mirai watched him, curious.  “I’m sorry, Mirai.  I accepted.”

His little sister looked at him with only understanding.  He searched for anger or disgust or sadness in her gaze and found nothing but love.  “What did you ask for?”

“The curse,” Jace said softly, “The one that can only be broken by a willing elementalist.” Mirai’s eyes widened with every word. “She did it, little sister.  The curse is broken.  Our people are free.”

He forced a smile on his face so that Mirai could see it even if he never wanted to be happy again. The girl had kept her word, kept her promise and Jace had secured his people’s future at the cost of the light in his.  

“That’s wonderful, Jace,” Mirai said, “I –” But whatever she was going to say next was cut off in a flurry of movement as Irina reentered the room.  

The healers all around were in a tizzy, muttering and smiling and opening books and scrolls. Irina herself knelt at Mirai’s side and propped up her head, touching a clay pot full of a clear liquid to Mirai’s lips.  “Drink,” Irina said, her voice steadfast.

Mirai drank and gasped. “What was that?” she asked and Jace stared at her.  Her breathing was better and her skin was no longer so ashen.  “That tasted like…” she cast around for words and Jace could hear her voice grow. 

“What was that?” he asked, staring at Mirai.  A minute ago, she looked like she was moments from death.  Now, she looked like she was resting off an injury – still weak, still hurt, but with a chance of getting better.

“The spring water,” Irina said, smiling.  It was the first time he’d seen the healer smile in a while.  “The spring is back, Jace.  Its healing properties…”

“It could cure anything in one pure of heart,” Jace finished, almost numb with disbelief, “Mirai…”

“It will cure the bluebell nectar,” Irina said.  Her grin was splitting her face in two.  “Now that the curse is gone, our spells should work again.  Mirai will heal.  Completely.”

~#~ 

The thatching on the roof of the hut was wound in circles.  Nerali laid on the pallet for hours, following the lines over and over and over again.  Sometimes someone would come in and change her bandages, sometimes offer her water or a weak broth.  Jace had hovered at the door once, staring at her, before disappearing again.  

No one talked to her. She didn’t expect them to.  She had paid wergild for her crimes, but that didn’t mean they were forgotten.  It probably took all their effort not to sneer at her.  She should probably be happy that Jace hadn’t taken the opportunity to kill her anyway.

(She wished he had.)

It was awful, laying still and unmoving.  Every shift of her torso brought renewed fire lancing down her arms and they were already twin centers of agony.  The slightest breeze could inflame the pain to the point where Nerali was biting her lip and scrunching her eyes and doing all she could not to cry out.  She often couldn’t tell when she slipped into unconsciousness, because her dreams were of broken bones and ice needles and fire, fire, fire.  There was no difference in pain between sleeping and waking.

She opened her eyes to a hushed conversation and groaned when she aborted her movements too late. Pain radiated down and she stayed perfectly still and concentrated on breathing, in and out, until it became mangeable again.

“Here,” a cool, familiar voice said, pressing a clay pot to her lips and inclining her head with a careful hand.  Nerali sipped at the water, soothing and fresh, and looked up at her helper.  

“Thank you,” she said, as she always did, only to choke on the words as Mirai’s face came into view.

Nerali flailed backwards and the pain exploded.  She tried to curl away from the perceived threat but every movement just made it worsen and she finally stopped in a half-curled position, taking fast breaths and trying not to scream.  She could barely see Mirai’s face through her blurred eyes but there was no mistaking it. 

“Are you haunting me?” she asked through hitched breaths and sobs, “Or am I dead?”  If this was the afterlife, Nerali had made a gross miscalculation. She couldn’t survive this pain for eternity.

“Shh,” Mirai’s familiar voice said, though it was softer than Nerali remembered it.  There was a hand on her forehead, blissfully cool, and it stroked strands of hair away from her face and delicately wiped away every tear as it fell.  “I’m not haunting you.  Neither are you dead.”

Nerali closed her eyes tight because there was only one explanation.  She didn’t think that this was what losing your sanity felt like, but the agony of lifting the curse could’ve shattered her mind into a million pieces.  She had gone mad.

“I’m not dead,” Mirai continued.  The careful hands continued their soothing motions, tugging Nerali back into a straightened position and carefully setting her arms back into position.  Nerali hissed at every movement but they were being very gentle.  The hands didn’t stop Nerali from trying to bury her face in the pillow and merely resumed stroking her hair.

“You are,” Nerali said when she could breathe again.  Her next words were small and choked with guilt and regret, “I killed you.”

Jace would never agree to the peace treaty, even with her wergild.  She had doused his revenge but would never be able to quell his anger. Clarissa would have peace, but peace without her best friend by her side.

And it was all Nerali’s fault.

“No,” Mirai disagreed, “You saved me.”  Her voice took on a tinge of irritation, which made it sound more like Mirai, “I can’t see how helpful that was, given that you first stuck a poisoned sword in my gut and pushed me off a tree –”

“Mirai,” Jace’s voice said, exasperated.

“But no harm, no foul,” Mirai finished on a cheerier note.  Nerali opened her eyes and craned her neck to see the door – sure enough, Jace was standing there, the expression on his face torn between annoyed and fond. He was looking at Mirai, who was sitting at Nerali’s side.  

Her vision somewhat clearer, Nerali could see a few differences in Mirai.  Her skin was paler than Nerali remembered it and she sat awkwardly, like her legs were in the way.  Her clothes were as skimpy as usual, though, and Nerali stared at her toned stomach and the large, angry, half-healed gash on it.

“You’re not dead,” Nerali said, blinking at her.  A couple of objections voiced themselves in her head and Nerali frowned, “How are you not dead?”

“Careful, sweetheart, you almost sound disappointed,” Mirai grinned at her, the often-seen shark-toothed smile that always meant she was laughing at Nerali’s expense.

“You discovered the spring,” Jace said from the doorway, “A legend of my people is that our spring is protected by the spirits of our clan and the water can heal anyone pure of heart.”

“I discovered what?” Nerali asked.  She had broken the curse, she hadn’t done anything about a spring.  Had she woken up in some alternate universe where Mirai wasn’t dead and her wergild had been something else?  Or was this all a fever dream to make herself feel better?

“In the boulder you shattered,” Jace clarified.  That would explain it.  All that Nerali remembered of those last moments was pain.

“Which brings me to a problem,” Jace said.  Nerali swallowed, but he didn’t look mad.  Neither did Mirai, when she glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.  “You broke the curse as wergild for my sister’s death.  But Mirai isn’t dead.”

Nerali looked at Mirai again and all the signs that pointed to the girl not being quite well yet, no matter what they said about the spring water.  “She would’ve been,” Nerali said in a small voice, “Bluebell nectar is fatal and the fall…  She would’ve died without your spring water.” 

“But she didn’t,” Jace said, an undertone of harshness to his words, “Which means that you gravely injured my sister, but then brought me the means to save her.  Those actions would cancel each other out.  But that was not all you did – you broke the curse on my people and you allowed us to live freely for the first time in living memory.”  He walked a few steps forward and knelt fluidly at Nerali’s side, bowing his head. “What would you like in repayment?” His hands were clenched tightly in his lap.

Nerali flicked a quick glance at Mirai.  She was staring at her brother, whiter than before, her mouth a pinched line.  “If you do not feel up to making a decision now, I can of course wait,” Jace said, his body stiff with tension, “The spring water is healing you, albeit slowly.  You don’t have to give me an answer now.”

She didn’t have to, but judging by the look on Jace’s face, it was going to eat him alive until she did. She hadn’t thought about this situation – she had never dreamed that the head of a rival clan would be asking her for what she wanted.  She didn’t know what would be equal payment for what she did, she didn’t even know what she wanted.  Nerali wished Clarissa was here – surely her big sister would know what to ask. 

Clarissa.  That was it!

“The peace talks,” Nerali said hurriedly, “The conference of the clans.  Has it started yet?”

Jace looked at her, bewildered.  “It starts tomorrow,” he said, “What does that have to do with –”

“Go to the talks,” she cut him off, “Work together with the other clans.  Build peace in the land.”  Fulfill Clarissa’s dream, she just managed to stop herself from saying.

From the wide-eyed look Jace was giving her, he was shocked.  Had she asked for too much?  “What?” he asked, sounding slightly strangled.

She had probably asked for too much.  “Go to the peace talks,” she mumbled, hunching into her shoulders.  Jace was still looking at her like she was from another planet.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Mirai said, her voice cheerful but a bite to her words that Nerali couldn’t quite untangle, “Doesn’t it, Jace?”

“Is that all you want?” Jace asked, ignoring his sister, “What if I was already planning to go?”

Well, then she had misjudged him entirely.  “Were you?” she ventured.

“No, but –”

“Then that is what I want,” Nerali cut him off, wavering confidence in her words.

Jace looked at her, his face still blank.  “I will, of course, go to the peace talks if that is what you truly desire,” he said carefully, and Nerali looked at him.  She heard a ‘but’ coming.  “But you broke the curse on my people, Nerali.  I’m not sure if you understand what you did and how enormous an impact it has had on my clan.  I don’t think going to a conference is a sufficient wergild.”

Oh.  He didn’t think she was asking for too much.  He thought she was asking for too little.  “You have to go with the purpose of making peace,” she ventured slowly, “You have to believe in it and strive to make it come true. Work towards a future where the forest is a place of safety and happiness.”  This was probably too much, but it would give her a sense of where to meet in the middle.  Perhaps to go to the conference and avoid starting a fight?  Clarissa had always complained about Jace’s ability to annoy almost anyone, though she hadn’t yet seen that particular talent.

Jace looked at her, his gaze intense, and she waited for his answer.  “I would consider that a sufficient wergild,” he said finally and Nerali exhaled in relief.  Clarissa would be so happy.  She had finally managed to fix the monumental mistake that had started with a poisoned sword and a twenty-foot drop. 

(Perhaps Clarissa would even smile at her and ruffle her hair and say that she had made her proud.)

“Nerali,” Jace spoke again, his voice soft and careful, “Are you sure that this is what you want?”  He looked at her with a searching stare, “I don’t wish to sound rude, but you didn’t seem like you were that interested in the peace talks.”

Nerali flushed because it was true.  She hadn’t cared and that loss of caring had led her into the forest on a patrol a week before the carefully balanced peace talks even though something was obviously going to go wrong.

“Clarissa dreamed of peace,” she said.  A peace with Jace by her side, she hadn’t said, but it had been obvious enough.

“I know she’s fanatic about it,” Jace managed a small smile, “But I didn’t know you were.”

“She’s my sister,” Nerali said, looking away, her voice getting smaller, “And I almost ruined her dream beyond repair.”  She looked back to Jace, “I had to fix it.”

Jace blinked and looked to Mirai.  Nerali followed his gaze but by the time she turned her head, Mirai was looking down at her and offering her another sip of water.  She took a gulp of it and laid back down, looking back up at the circles of the thatched roof.  There was a smile tugging at her lips, and something loosened inside her chest, something that had tightened when Clarissa had looked at her with those sad, tired eyes.

It wasn’t an ideal position – her arms still hurt like hell – but she had managed to deal with all the consequences, and all by herself, too!  She could comfort herself with the surprised but delighted look that would be on her sister’s face when Nerali explained everything she’d done. Clarissa would be so proud.

“Nerali,” Jace asked quietly and she turned her head towards him, “Did Clarissa say that you had to fix your mistake?  Did she tell you that it was your fault?”

“No, of course not!” Nerali frowned.  Like she was a child that needed to be scolded.  She could take the blame for her actions by herself.

“Then why did you come here, Nerali?” Jace asked in the same tone of voice.  It sounded remarkably similar to the time Aiden coaxed an injured leopard cub out of hiding.  

“To pay wergild,” Nerali blinked at him.  Was something wrong with Jace?  Did breaking the curse have a mental effect?

“It wasn’t your responsibility,” Jace said levelly, “Wergild is usually negotiated between clans.”

“Oh,” Nerali had not known that, “But it was my fault.”  And she didn’t want to put Clarissa in the position of ordering her into a dangerous situation or accepting capitulations.  Jace cast another glance at Mirai and Nerali frowned.

“You said you were expecting to die when you came here,” Jace said haltingly, pausing before every word, “But you knew that wouldn’t happen, right?”

“I didn’t think of it before you pointed it out,” Nerali mumbled, not looking at Mirai.

“Think of what, exactly?”

“That obviously my life would not be worth hers,” Nerali said, her voice dropping even lower.  She hunched into her shoulders again.  

“Don’t be silly,” Mirai said, her voice determined, and Nerali straightened again, “Jace would never have killed you because if he did, Clarissa would’ve come after him.  In fact, it’s extremely fortuitous that this sequence of events have resolved themselves with minimal bloodshed and little lasting damage.”

“Clarissa wouldn’t have come after you,” Nerali said, incredulous, though Mirai was right, it was incredibly lucky, “It was wergild.  She would understand.”  She frowned – she hadn’t thought of what Clarissa would’ve felt if she’d heard of Nerali’s death.  Yet another person she hadn’t considered would be affected by the consequences of her actions.

Jace’s face was doing something funny, his expression twisted somewhere between disbelief, confusion, and horror.  “She would understand,” Jace repeated, his words devoid of all emotion, “She would understand that her baby sister was murdered and would do nothing about it?”

“Not murder,” Nerali said, wincing.  “Payment.” This conversation had certainly taken an odd turn.  “She loved Mirai too, you know,” she said, her words soft and reproachful.

“Nerali,” Jace said. He sounded calm, but he didn’t look it, his hands clenching into fists and a muscle jumping in his jaw.  “What did she say to you when she heard what you did? Exactly.”

The words had echoed in Nerali’s head since she first heard them and even now they felt like daggers to the heart.  She repeated them warily, not understanding the undercurrent of anger in the room, but recognizing it nonetheless, “That she loved Mirai like her own sister and she understood what you were going through.”  She paused, but Jace was looking at her, expectant.  “That your rage would burn down the world if it wasn’t put out.”

There was a long silence. Jace looked at her blankly, unmoving. Nerali turned to Mirai, but her face smoothened over the instant she saw her and Mirai mutely offered her another sip. When she turned back, Jace was getting to his feet.  

“Well, it’s clear she still understands me, though I’m not sure I still understand her.”  He nodded at Nerali, “Thank you for this great service you’ve done to my clan, Nerali.  I hope you will consider partaking of our hospitality until you recover.”  He looked to Mirai, “I need to pack quickly if I’m to reach the conference tomorrow.  I know Irina wanted to check up on you again.”

Mirai got up ungainly and Nerali could see clearly that she hadn’t fully recovered yet.  She leaned heavily on Jace’s arm as she limped out the door, flashing a quick smile at Nerali before she left.  Nerali relaxed back into the pillows, feeling so much lighter. Everything had been fixed and Jace was going to strive for peace.  With both Jace and Clarissa working together, her sister’s dream would come true.  She would probably take Jace up on his offer – she didn’t want to see Clarissa’s face when she saw Nerali’s arms, and it would probably be better to do a quick check-up on the spirit spring before she left, just to make sure that the curse had fully dissolved.

Nerali slipped back into sleep, content.

~#~

He waited until he was out of earshot of Nerali’s hut, which was honestly more self-control than he thought he had.  “She what?” he hissed, furious.  Mirai leaned against a nearby wall.  Several people in the vicinity were pretending quite hard that they weren’t eavesdropping.  “She basically told her sister that she was responsible for the breakdown of peace in the forest!”

“To be fair, she would’ve been,” Mirai pointed out.

“Nerali is her sister,” Jace hissed, unable to put the roiling pit of anger and fear inside of him into words, “Her sister.”

“Jace,” Mirai started tentatively, but Jace cut her off.

“Her baby sister, Mirai,” he said, crossing to her and gripping her shoulders tight, “Have I ever said something like that to you?  Have I ever even implied it?”

“No, Jace, of course not,” Mirai placed a soothing hand on top of his, “You would never do that, I know.”

“But Clarissa did,” Jace said, closing his eyes.  All this time, and he thought she had been the righteous one.  “She basically told her that her life was worth less than yours.”

“She didn’t say that,” Mirai said quietly, “She would never say that.”

“That’s what she implied,” Jace said, “That my anger was a bigger problem than her baby sister’s continued survival.”  He felt sick to his stomach.  He had dug his fingernails into his hands to stop from breaking something when Nerali was talking.  “It’s what Nerali heard, otherwise she wouldn’t have walked all the way over here to throw herself on a sword.”

She hadn’t even seen anything wrong in it.  She had asked for peace because it was what her sister wanted.  She had been ready to die, thinking it was what her sister wanted.

“I thought it was a joke,” he said finally, “When she arrived at the gates, talking about wergild. I thought it was cruel mockery. Offering me exactly what I wanted and knowing I couldn’t take it.  Watching me fight my revenge to save my people – forcing me to acknowledge that something took priority over you, even as you were dying.”  Mirai was silent.  “But it wasn’t a joke, was it?  She was serious.”  He swept Mirai into a hug, holding her crushingly tight until he could feel her heartbeat.  She squawked at him, but he didn’t let go. 

“Promise me you would never do that,” he said, loosening his grip slightly, “Promise me, Mirai, that you would never give your life up for anything or anyone, thinking it’s what I want. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Mirai said softly.

“It doesn’t matter if you burn this whole forest down until there’s nothing left but ashes, because I will not blame you.  I will never blame you,” he pulled back until he could meet her eyes, “And if you die thinking it’s what I want, I will slit my own throat, do you understand?”

Mirai swallowed, tears in her eyes, and nodded mutely.  Jace fought back the burning in his own eyes and hugged her again, hoping that if he held her tight enough, he could forget what Nerali had said.

He finally let her go, wiping at his eyes roughly.  The people around them had given up all pretense of pretending not to listen. Several of them looked shocked. Many looked as sick as he’d felt listening to Nerali.  The healer outside of Nerali’s hut, paused with a small cup of soup in her hands, was white-faced and sorrowful.

“Chief.”  He turned to meet Felix’s determined gaze, “Tell us she’s not going back there.”

“I strongly suggested she stay here until she’s healed,” Jace said hoarsely, “I trust you can manage to keep her here without using actual force.”  The healer nodded.  “She’s disoriented and woozy from the pain, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”  He turned back to Felix, “You should pack.  We’re leaving for the peace talks.”

Felix blinked, “We are?”

“Yes,” Jace said, “Nerali asked that as repayment for breaking the curse and I accepted.  Besides, it gives us the perfect opportunity.”  A slow smile stretched across his face as he thought of the possibilities.

“Opportunity, chief?” Felix asked.

“To show Clarissa the error of her ways.”  And he would make sure she’d learned her lesson before letting Nerali anywhere near her again.

~#~

Part 4.

#whump #whumpfic #wergild #arc: the price #consequences #not as dead as claimed #still cripplingly low self-esteem #don't worry #people are going to fix that

[stanskzseungmin]

Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 8

Sorry this one took a while. I was trying a different more disjointed writing style to try and create the imagery for this chapter. Took a while because I trashed and redid this chapter like 4 times lmao. Hope you enjoy it <3

~Masterlist~

Chapters:  0.1, 0.2, 0.3, 0.4, 0.5, 0.6, 0.7, 0.8, 0.9

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

The atmosphere was tense.

The heavy stench of death lingered.

There were so little activity yet it felt as if the dead were back with a vengeance.

~

Heavy panting can be heard as a pair of hands grab at the screen before them.

~

The pristine beach is now a mass grave.

The beautiful clean sand that almost seemed to glow and glisten breathtakingly under the hot sun on a clear yet cloudy day.

~

Somewhere else in the meantime.

It was dark and silent. There were barely any lights. The only lights presents were blinking and on the verge of dying.

The air that once permeated with mutual content and comfort that a family shared, was now tense as a chill traveled up all of the building’s inhabitants' spines. There was no loud yelling. No laughter. No pitter pattering of feet. Just a dark and silent home where ten lived in harmony. 

But of the ten, two were not present: one on the verge of death.

~

The sea sparkled a brilliant blue hue, The dark color perfectly complemented the clear blue sky.

~

The silence was distrubed by a loud metal clattering. There were loud exhales and gasps of disbelief. The medic/engineer collided with the metal cart of supplies behind him as his hands frantically grabbed at the cool metal to maintain balance. His eyes were blown out in shock as panic and fear wracked through his system as it got harder and harder to breathe.

~

The clean beachside front is now polluted and littered with rubble and residue, The tan grains of sand now dyed and stained a brilliant red. The pristine clean and clear water is now filled with lifeless corpses, the bodies floating and swaying with the waves as their faces remained frozen in a silent scream and dead eyes. 

An explosion can be heard in the distance. A demolitionist was in full sprint towards the so called “Paradise.” As he ran, he was pursued, but the pursuers were quickly disposed of by the demolitionist dropping homemade pocket C4 like breadcrumbs.

~

The medic/engineers stared at the third screen down on the left column in horror. The once vibrant green screen signifying excellent health now glowed a menacing red. A sharp contrast to the eight greens surrounding and a singular almost as worrisome orange. 

The red screen.

리노

The heartbeat monitor displayed with a brilliant flashing red orange light has a singular word displaying on the lower left corner of the screen. 

DANGER

With haste, the medic/engineer barrelled out the room and down the hallway. The name of his leader erupted from his throat repeatedly as the inhabitants of the rooms past sprung out of the rooms appearing in the doorways ready, alert and worried. 

~

The demolitionist stood before two unconscious bodies. A pool of blood surrounded the pair as his shoes stepped into the darkening pool staining the dirt beneath him. 

He delicately pried the smaller body off the toxin specialist and very carefully slung both bodies over either shoulders.

||

“Seungmin! Put me down!” You exclaimed lightly hitting his back lightly with your balled fists. 

The chemistry student merely smirked at your immature antics.

The two of you weren’t friends per se, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call the both of you enemies. You were a bit of a goody two shoes and always go out of your way to report all suspicious activity on the campus. You had caught Seungmin picking on Jisung again and went up to the chemist to write him up. As per usual, Seungmin wasn’t having it. He never would.

And here you are now, pathetically slung over his shoulder as he carried you away. You knew where he was taking you. He took you there every time.

Seungmin pulled open the door of one of the more deserted janitor’s closet. It was so out of the way that it’s hardly any janitor’s first choice and it most definitely have a lack of nearby students. Hardly any students passed by here due to the shady and creepy atmosphere.

Even though the walled in city was safe, the paranoia of the dangers outside still lingered. The deserted hallways felt as if it had a distorted reality. There was no present danger but any who walked by without the proper constitution would get so wracked by paranoia where the imagined dangers seemed real. 

In the dark dusty room with a singular hanging bulb, Seungmin would toss you onto the ground. Your bottom met the floor ungracefully as Seungmin closed the door behind him quite harshly. The impact sent vibrations through the walls that would unsettle the dust as vision would slightly get hindered by the particles. You let out a small whine from the stinging pain radiating from the impact. Before you can protest or chide him, Seungmin would kneel before you and pull you into a bone crushing embrace and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

Your arms protest, grabbing and pushing at him and sometimes digging your nails into his shoulders in a dire attempt to make him let you go. Seungmin would let out a small puppy whine and pouted. You felt your defenses weaken at the sound and wanted nothing more but to let him in. Before you even had a chance to raise your arms to return the embrace, Seungmin would pull away with a shit-eating smirk as he brought his index finger to his lips ordering your silence. 

Seungmin was already out and gone with the door shut as he left before you could properly register what just happened, your mind still puddy from your lowered defenses. 

A soft click echoed through the silence.

Every time.

Seungmin got you every time.

And everytime you still lowered your defenses to let him in.

Only for him to leave you alone like a deer in headlights.

~

You swore Seungmin only existed to make your life a living hell. You always thought it was a waste of talent for a practically math genius Seungmin to pick on people. You knew blackmail when you see it.

Doesn’t mean you had immunity towards it. Not towards Seungmin at least.

You noticed how Seungmin and two others hanging around one of the campus’ empty buildings. You recognized the two being top students in their respective subjects.

They were definitely doing shady stuff.

Today however, looks as if it was only Seungmin that’s present. You never saw the other two from your not so discreet hiding spot under the shade of a tree with your nose pressed into a book. 

You rushed to follow Seungmin into the building once you see him disappear behind the closing door. 

You didn’t take that long to enter after the boy. You made it in before the door closed completely, but it seemed as if Seungmin vanished into midair.

Sighing to yourself, you began walking down the dimly lit hallway and peeked into every passing door’s window pane. You noticed how the hallways cameras were all facing down, the led next to the lens were off.

Why were the cameras off?

You also noticed the smoke detectors were also disabled. 

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard a loud explosion ripped through the silence. Your ears rang lightly as it seemed as if the world was moving.

“Seungmin?” You breathed out. Panic bubbled deep within your chest. “Seungmin? SEUNGMIN!”

“Wow, you can’t leave me alone, huh?”

You whipped around to see Seungmin himself in the flesh perfectly fine and uninjured just his attire and visage covered in dark soot. You let out a loud sigh of relief as you ran up to him wrapping your arms around his frame in a bone crushing embrace.

“Alright, dummy,” Seungmin chuckled patting your back lightly. “Did you really have that little faith in me that you genuinely thought I was hurt?”

Seungmin rubbed your back in circles as his other hand rested gently on your waist. You mumbled softly into his shoulders. “Absolutely not. Not at all. You’re totally bonkers, insane. You’re going to scale this building and I’m going to have to write you up. Or worse, writing an autopsy report.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin whispered into your ear resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I wasn’t serious.”

“I was.”

You pulled back slightly in confusion to see a genuine smile on his face with his eyes show a loving and touched emotion. You felt your lips twitch upwards upon sight of him looking so vulnera-

“Now stop stalking me, dummy creeper.”

You would most definitely hear a pin drop from the silence that followed.

You fell for it again.

~

“Wow [by 3RACHA], you actually came,” you perked up from the bench you were sitting on.

“Of course I did, dummy,” Seungmin smiled, putting his hands into his black hoodie pocket.

“No fucking with Felix?” you jested with a smirk playing on your lips.

“Do you not realize who I am?” Seungmin scoffed. “Let’s just say Felix won’t be leaving detention without being griefed.”

“You customized an exit denial device didn’t you?”

“Ooooh yea,” Seungmin chuckled. 

“It’s not an ice bucket above the door is it?”

“Lame.”

“Oh dear,” you hand went up to your cheek in worry for the freckled Australian.

“So how am I going to get up there?” Seungmin pointed to the roof, his eyes never leaving yours wearing a face of disbelief.

“Uhh… parkour?”

Seungmin quirked an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I didn’t think that far ahead...” you looked off to the side rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

“You give me a boost and launched me up there?”

“Bad idea.”

“I stand on your shoulder and you stand up?” Seungmin suggested slinging his arm around your shoulders while pointing upwards with his index finger.

“Even worse,” you shrugged off his arm.

“So what do you suggest?” 

“Just get on my back, I’ll carry you up.”

“Your noodle arms can carry me?”

. . .

~

“I hate this place,” Seungmin mumbled. His arms were loosely wrapped around your shoulders with his legs finding purchase hooked onto your waist, his chest flush against your back. 

You let out a loud exhale as you gripped on the window sill. You looked back to see Seungmin gazing longingly at the wall. That damned wall.

“What do you want to do?” You whispered as you continued your climb.

“I want to destroy the wall.”

Your hand reached over the edge of the roof one after another as you pulled the both of you up.

“You do know what is out there, right?” you settled down on the cold roof, bringing your knees to your chest,

“Yea,” Seungmin sat next to you pulling you into his lap as you both gaze at the wall. At your vantage point, you can see beyond the tall concrete walls lined with barbed wire at the top. 

“The walls protect us from dangers outside. So many mafias and gangs. So much corruption. That doesn't include all the murders and kidnappings.”

“But what if the true dangers aren’t what is out there? But in here? Those mafias exist for a reason. What if they’re rebelling against something from inside? The people here are hardly people anymore. They’re sheeple that can be herded by the shepherd called the government.”

“I don’t want to become like them,” you whispered. “What if the schools existed only to turn us all into sheeple, brainwashing us into the same system. Schools only exist to condition people to work 8 hours a day. I don’t  want to be like them. I don’t want to lose my humanity.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Seungmin whispered into your hair. “You see past the wall, right?”

“It’s dark and empty.”

“I know. Dark, so we won’t be attracted to the government’s light like moths only to discover it’s a flame and empty, so we could be free without any restrictions.”

“Wait, we?” you whispered, shock evident in your voice and you broke free from his embrace to face him.

“Of course, dummy,” Seungmin smiled genuinely. “I promise.”

Seungmin thought to himself right then and there, ‘I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

“This better not be one of your stupid blackmails again, Shit-min.”

. . .

#stray kids #stray kids mafia au #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids chan #skz chan #bang chan #stray kids woojin #skz woojin #kim woojin #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee know #lee minho #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #seo changbin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids han #skz han #han #han jisung #stray kids felix #skz felix #lee felix #stray kids seungmin

[honeyjaez]

Maze of Miroh- Chapter 12 “Old Memories and New Problems

Minho cracked opened his eyes to the dark lit room surrounding him. His senses were still dulled from just waking up, but the soft lulling snores from Felix’s side of the room could no longer being heard. His roommate must have gone to train early in the morning in order to  avoid Woojin’s scolding about being on bed rest.

 He knew he should get up and get ready for the day, but after his episode with Jisung last night, Minho had gotten back to his room, falling into the deepest sleep he has ever felt. For the first time in his entire life he didn’t have his sleep disrupted by endless nightmares, faceless shadows. There was no screaming. No dead bodies.  And more so than that, he woke up without the immense pressure of despair on his chest that he so often felt.

For the first time in his life he felt better about things.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he still very much has issues within him. The thought of taking on The Order terrified him shitless. He still hurt from the loss of his family. Jeongwoo. Hyunjae. Grandma Yoo. But the fear seemed more manageable now, and part of him believed one way or another, they were doing the right thing. 

Minho groaned and groggily opened his eyes back up, reluctantly begging to get up while yawning loudly in the process. He winced as his joints cracked in the cold room and lethargically grabbed his towel, heading to shower,

__

After the longest shower in existents and felt like he was thoroughly clean, Minho wrapped his naked body up, heading out and allowing fresh steam to roll out of the bathroom.  He wandered up to his dresser that was filled with clothes that the other boys had graciously given him when he first joined. Slowly, he began to pull out a jeans and other garments to put on for the day.

And that’s when he saw it.

He had almost forgotten about it. Hurt by Hyunjae’s betrayal, Minho all but discarded the wayward gift that day, the envelope that had been entrusted Grandma Yoo to pass along to him.  But sure enough, like a virus, his eyes landed on the small parchment of paper slipped in between the clothes in his dresser.

Minho stood still, eyes carefully scanning the object.

He had half a mind to throw the thing out, feeling an overwhelming need to expunge anything Hyunjae out of his life. But still, Minho found himself with no self-control and his finger slowly traced the smooth paper. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should move on. Whatever Hyunjae wanted to give him was unneeded in his life. 

But Minho couldn’t help himself, curiosity filling him too much, and he quickly found himself opening the small envelop with shaky hands

No note...

Minho tried to swallow his disappointment. Out of anything in the world, Minho wanted a letter the most, but alas, there was nothing. Nothing that would explain his friend’s betrayal or a hint to what was happening. 

Instead all there was, was a small golden object that slid out onto his hand. Minho carefully eyed the object and realized that it was a small golden locket with a golden chain to match. With shaking hands, he opened the locket and had to stop himself from letting out a silent choked sob, eyes fighting back tears.

Inside the locket was a single picture. It was of him and Hyunjae, their arms wrapped over each other’s shoulders. Hyunjae giving the camera a toothy grin, while Minho, he realized, was looking at Hyunjae. A hand slapped over his mouth and Minho realized he was crying. 

He remembered this day.

It was right before that day in the factory. The day everything went to shit. 

Hyunjae hadn’t been feeling well and so Minho made it his own personal mission to cheer his hyung up. He showed up at his apartment, movies and snacks in hand and asked if he could keep Hyunjae company.

It was all very out of character for Minho.

And Hyunjae had known this too.

But still, they stayed together that whole day, Minho trying his best to be a caretaker, but failing epically. Hyunjae didn’t seem to mind, actually being receptive to Minho’s failed attempts at comforting him. Eventually Hyunjae had admitted to Minho that day that he wasn’t actually sick that day. He had just had one his rare moments of depression and wanted to be alone that day. He confessed to Minho however that that soon changed once he saw Minho’s smiling face. “You have a face that makes everyone feel better. Makes them feel happy and safe.” he had said to him that day. Minho remembered it so clearly.

 They looked so happy in this moment. He looked down at his own face, seeing the soft, fond smile he was given the older. Hyunjae’s smile looked so authentic that Minho almost forgot it wasn’t real. Once again he found his stomach twist into tight little knots as he looked down, a common feeling when he looked at Hyunjae and Jisung’s words suddenly rang clearly through his head.

“Did you love him?”

A single tear slid down Minho’s cheek but he made no movement to wipe it off.

This sucked.

All of this sucked.

Suddenly of knock at his door broke him out of his trance and his head snapped up.

“Minho”

Minho’s ears perked, hearing Jisung’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Chan’s called a meeting” his voice was muffled by the door but Minho could hear the slur of his words and knew he must have just woken up. A small, half smile broke across his face and quickly wiped his tears, grabbing a sweatshirt on his way out.

“Hang on. I’ll be right there!”

___

They held the meeting in the living room, countless of sleepy faces already inhabiting the room. Minho sat on the end of the couch, with a groggy Jisung taking the spot next to him. Woojin sat off to the side, his black hair tussled to the side and….was he not wearing pants? Hyunjin was sprawled on the chair next to him, blanket still in hand as he yawned loudly and his hair in a fluffy heap. Changbin laid on the bean bag chair that sat on the floor, his back hair all ruffled from his sleep and Minho stifled a laugh because the usual cranky mercenary almost looked too adorable in that moment.

Chan was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed and heavy bags under his eyes. Seungmin was also standing off to the side, his body leaning up against the book shelf as his eyes seemed unfocused and his teeth tugging on his bottom lip, deep in thought. Concern coursed through Minho’s body. What had happened?

“Now I’m sure you are all wondering why I called you this early…” Chan started to say.

“Wait” Changbin mumbled quickly while looking around “We aren’t all here. Where is Felix and Innie?”

Minho nodded wordlessly, noticing the younger missing and heart did a quick jump suddenly. Was this about Felix? Was he okay?

Chan shook his head, eyes closing “I sent Innie to get Felix, they should be h-“

As if on que, the door swung open and a familiar tuff of red hair poked into frame. “Sorry I’m late!” a light voice sounded. Minho immediately sighed in relief and turned his head, locking eyes with a rather sweaty Felix, with Jeongin right behind him.

This seemed to catch Woojin’s attention too and the elder hissed in exasperation, glaring at the ginger headed boy. “Lee Felix I thought I put you on strict bed rest until that gunshot wound healed. Why the hell are you all sweaty?!”Minho flinched slightly at Woojin’s angry tone but Felix seemed unfazed and gave the older man a big smile.

“Ahh sorry hyung.” He said while sitting on the arm of the couch next to Woojin “If it helps I didn’t push myself too much!”

Woojin grit his teeth and stared at the younger boy. Finally he just threw his hands in the air and sat back down in annoyance. “Whatever. But if your wound doesn’t heal properly and you can no longer walk don’t come crying to me.”

Minho turned his gaze back towards Chan and noticed the older boy giving them a small, amused gaze, despite the bags under his eyes. He caught Minho’s gaze and without missing a beat winked at him like he was giving him a hidden message. “Right” Chan coughed suddenly “Well anyways, you are probably wondering why I called all of yo-“

“It’s about the canister you had Minho steal yesterday right?” Jisung interrupted while yawning noisily. Eyes wide, Minho looked to Chan for confirmation and the elder boy just nodded once, unfazed by Jisung’s outburst.

“And? What about it?”  Changbin grumbled, still trying to wake up.

“Yeah wasn’t it just some information on The Order?” Felix added. 

“That much is true” 

Minho ear perked up as Seungmin finally joined in the conversation. However an awkward silence fell upon the group as they waited for the Strategist to continue. Minho noticed with a twist in his gut that Chan’s gaze was grave. Whatever was going on, Chan was not happy.

 Seungmin sighed and pushed himself off the shelf behind him, gaze serious. “Rather than it being information on The Order, it was actually containing a new biological weapon for them.”

Silence.

Minho felt his eyes go wide knowing what this meant, and he felt his heart beat quickening. “It’s a…. chemical?”

Chan nodded, face grim.

Changbin seemed to mirror Minho’s shocked expression and looked towards Seungmin “What kind?”

The younger shook his head, frustration clear as day on his face. “I’ve been up all night with Chan hyung and Jin but we aren’t any closer to figure that out then we were when we started.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Woojin asked, a pinch of hurt laced in his voice. “If it’s a biological weapon, you should have had a doctor look at it as well.”

Chan turned and looked sadly back at Woojin, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple I’m afraid. I know your skills better than anyone Woojin but trust me when I said this is just simply out of our area of expertise.”

“Even Hyunjin hyung’s?” Jeongin pipped up from the side. Minho turned and looked at the black haired boy in question and the chemist just shrugged his shoulders casually. “I’m more of an explosion kind of guy. Once you get into biological stuff I’m pretty useless.” He muttered

“Says the guy who uses his bombs to put people to sleep” Changbin grumbled under his breath.

Hyunjin’s ear twitched and Minho knew the younger had heard the comment, but he made no notion to it. He was being all nonchalant about the whole thing but Minho could tell Hyunjin was rather troubled about the whole situation himself.

“So what do we know” Chan started while lifting a finger. “One. The Order is experimenting with some kind of biological weapon to use for whatever reason. Two. We have said weapon. And Three. The Order knows we took it.”

“Thanks Minho” Changbin muttered.

Minho opened his mouth to defend himself, but Jisung was quicker and rounded on the smaller boy “I mean who else was going to take it hyung?” he challenged “Is The Order supposed to think the little old lady down the street took it?”

Minho gaped his mouth at the younger, surprise written on his face. This was very different than from the scolding Jisung gave him yesterday from the very same thing.

Chan nodded “Jisung is right. This is no one’s fault. We are the only ones in Spector that would take it, so it’s only natural for The Order to assume it was us.”

“But what is IT exactly?” Felix interjected.

Chan shook his head and pulled the small canister out of his pocket, looking down “I don’t know….” he trailed off, pausing. Minho could tell from the tone of his voice that he was contemplating something. But what?

His question was answered when Chan gave a long sigh and turned back up towards the group.

“I don’t know what it is….” He started again “But I know someone who might…”

Minho only stared at him, questioning, but unbeknownst to him, the original members of SKZ all stared at Chan with a horrified gaze.

“Hyung” Jisung said slowly “You can’t mean...?”

Their leader nodded, expression solemn. Minho could feel Jisung tense up almost immediately and noticed Seungmin face darken. What was going on?

“You can’t!” Changbin growled suddenly “You promised him!”

“Yeah hyung!” Jisung’s tone was desperate but dark. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?! If you bring him back here he will just be in dang-“

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan hissed back.

The room fell deathly silent at Chan’s outburst. Both Changbin and Jisung backed down almost immediately while the rest looked at one another awkwardly. Whatever this was, it was obviously a secret held between the original members. Minho knew that much. He didn’t even know they kept secrets. Minho sighed, knowing it was his turn to act like a member of the group.

“Look” he said while standing up, hands in the air “Whatever is going on, it’s obviously needs be discussed by you four. Let’s leave you al-“

“No” Chan said almost too harshly “No more keeping this a secret.” He turned his gaze back up and gave Minho a grateful look before looking at Jisung and Changbin in turn with a harder gaze. “I know I promised him I would never speak of him to anyone but this is bigger than us.” He said the last part with a waver in his voice, almost like he was getting emotional and he lifted up the canister to the group. “We have this strain, but who is to say The Order doesn’t already have clones of it? The fact that Hyunjin couldn’t figure out its effects means it’s something big…..and that scares me to death.” He paused, letting out a long sigh and lowering the canister back to his side. They all held their breath. “Spector might be in serious trouble. Whatever this strain does…. We NEED him.”

As he finished his speech, Chan looked back at Seungmin, a silent conversation passing between the two. Minho watched as the tiny boy in gasses stared evenly at Chan, finally nodding in agreement. He then in turn looked back towards Jisung and Changbin, the same conversation passing between them. Both boys hesitated before sharing a look and begrudgingly nodded in agreement.

“Fine” Changbin muttered “But if he yells at us, I’m blaming you”

Chan smiled weakly at this and gave the younger an appreciative smile “I will take the blame.”

“Does anyone wanna explain to the rest of us who you are talking about?” Minho heard Hyunjin whine.

Chan let out a long sigh before turning back to the rest of the group. “His name is Dowoon and he is the only one who might know how to stop this.”

 ___

“So you’re saying that you, Seungmin, Changbin, Chan hyung all knew about this Dowoon guy? And you kept it a secret from the others to protect his identity?” Minho whispered hushed to Jisung who seemed rather annoyed with the elder’s bombardment of questions.

“We did” he hurriedly whispered back “Dowoon was the only one who survived that day when The Order killed Sungjin, Younghyun and the others and that was only because Chan nearly killed himself to save him!” he paused and let out a sigh, sensing his own agitated tone. “He didn’t die that day, but The Order knew his face after that. Being the only survivor from Sungjin’s group, we all, including himself knew he couldn’t stay above ground. As a Scientist, Dowoon knew a lot about The Order. He was a threat to them” he explained, a sad look on his face. “So all agreed he would hide out the rest of his days in The Under and we wouldn’t tell a soul. For all the world knew, the man named Dowoon died that day with the rest of his members….”

Minho contemplated his words while looking back ahead, peering passed Chan’s head. Fast forward a few hours from Chan shocking confession about a secret ex member, amd Minho currently found himself, along with Jisung, Chan and Woojin heading down a corridor, hidden deep in Spector’s underground. The walls surrounding them were cold hard stone and Minho knew the aesthetic matched the name.

The Under

___

*Few hours earlier*

“Dowoon is alive!?” Hyunjin gasped, fully awake now. ”You mean THE Dowoon?” his eyes were wide with awe, like he was admiring the name. “Chan! Everyone in the chemist world knows that name. He is a legend!”

Chan nodded, shame twinkling in his eyes. “It’s a long story… but all you need to know is that he is alive….”

“Where?!” Hyunjin’s eyes were sparkling now, the sheer thought of his hero coming back from the dead.

“The Under….”

Minho watched as Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly lost their sparkle, his face falling.

“You mean…..?”

Chan nodded, knowing full too well what that name meant.  But the name was foreign to Minho. He had never heard it before. The rest of his members however seemed to know the name well. He turned and saw Jisung look at him with a grim face, shaking his head slightly. Minho then looked up and even saw fearless Felix’s eyes wide slightly at the name. Only Jeongin seemed just as lost as Minho.

“What’s The Under?” The younger piped up, voice curious.

Woojin’s face darkened as he stood up, walking until he was next to Chan, his turn to overlook the group now. “All you need to know is that it’s off-limits Innie.” He said Jeongin by name, but Minho couldn’t help but feel like Woojin was addressing them as a whole.

“Trust me” the eldest continued “when I say I’d rather deal with The Order than The Under I mean it.” Woojin then spun on Chan, his face severe “If you are going down there, then you are taking me.”

“Wooj…” Chan started to say but was interrupted when Woojin raised a hand in the air to stop him.

“I know more about The Under than any of you. This is NOT up for debate. I’m going”

Chan knew better than to argue. He didn’t like it, but he knew better. Begrudgingly, Chan bowed his head in response then turned to the rest of the group. “Well there you have it. We have to go down to The Under and find Dowoon who is our best bet at finding out what exactly this chemical does. I will personally lead this mission myself…” he trailed off, looking at his members, a grave look on his face. “My first choice would be Felix but since you are injured…”

The red head stood up, determination on his face “I can still go hyung! It doesn’t even hur-“

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” both Changbin and Woojin hissed in unison, both giving the younger boy hard glares. Felix opened his mouth like he was going to argue but quickly shut up as he took one more look at Changbin’s furious gaze.

Chan nodded in agreement “Sorry lix’ but they are right. You need to focus on healing that gunshot wound.”

Minho could see Felix pout but didn’t argue as he sat back down. “Changbin-”

The younger tore his gaze from Felix’s brooding face and turned to their leader.

“I’m going to ask you to stay here as well.” He started “We are going into neutral territory and I’m afraid having my trigger happy gunner might make negations a bit tense.”

“Hyung I don’t reall-“ he began to argue.

“Besides” Chan added with a smile “I need you to watch Felix and make sure he doesn’t go running off.”

Changbin shut up and quickly stole a brief glance at the moping boy much to Minho’s amusement. If Felix heard his name, he made no notion to it and Changbin turned back around, nodding once.

“Neh hyung what about me?” Hyunjin pipped up from his chair. Minho knew Chan had to pick Hyunjin. If he wasn’t taking Felix or Changbin, Hyunjin was their next best line of defense.

But to Minho’s confusion Chan shook his head at the younger. “I need you here Jin. There is no guarantee that Dowoon will know what this strain does, and if that’s the case I need you to be here and continue to pick at it. I don’t want to lose time if we have it.” He paused and looked off to the side at Jeongin who seemed rather disinterested at this time. “Have Innie help you.”

“Hey!”

Minho expected Hyunjin to argue as well, but surprisingly the boy nodded his head in compliance without saying a word.

Seungmin stepped forward, pushing the glasses up on his face up. “So that means the 5 of us-“  

“4 Seungminie” Chan interjected “I need you here as well.”

Minho’s eyes shot wide. Was Chan seriously not going to take his best guys on such an important and dangerous mission?

Seungmin seemed shocked by this and spun on their leader “W-Wha?!” he exclaimed, flabbergasted. “You mean to tell me you expect to get down there and find Dowoon without me?! How exactly do you plan on dealing with Zico and his thugs Hmm?!”

Chan smiled and placed a comforting hand on Seungmin’s head, ruffling it. “Seungmin, with me gone, I’m putting you in charge. The Order knows we took their canister and while I know they probably won’t find our hideout anytime soon, I don’t want any chances. I want you to stay here and work with Changbin on an emergency exit plan in case worse comes to worse. Do you understand Minnie?” he added “If anything happens to me down there, you are next in charge. You need to take care of your members here” Chan finished with a fond gaze.

Seungmin’s ear burned bright red as he quickly shoved Chan off, embarrassed. “Whatever. If you die I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that” Chan let out with a chuckle. He then turned back to the group and eyed the remaining members, his gaze lingering on Minho’s a moment longer than the others. “That leaves Jisung, Minho, Woojin and myself as the lucky winners.”

“B-But” Minho suddenly spurted out “I thought I was taken off missions until Jisung said otherwise”

Chan tiled his head in confusion and he heard Jisung mumble beside him. “It’s cute that actually thought I was serious about that.”

Minho rounded on the younger with a look of shocked betrayal. He playfully shoved the younger lightly “You butt! I actually believed you! “

“Shh” the younger hushed him “Chan is still talking.” Minho rolled his eyes knowing the younger just said that to avoid Minho’s scolding but complied and turned back to Chan who looked at the pair with a fond glint in his eyes.

“Meeting is over. I want the three of you to meet back here in exactly thirty minutes so that I can debrief you on the mission. The rest of you, get to work!”

___

*Present Time*

Now with that being said, Minho still knew nothing about The Under, nor why everyone was so afraid of it. Both Chan and Jisung had been there before, that much was known. But to Minho, Woojin seemed the most familiar with the area. The entrance to The Under was supposedly the most mysterious thing in the city of Spector, eluding The Order grasp for years now. But Woojin found it with ease. And on top of that, he just so happened to have a key laying around that opened said entrance. When he asked the older about it, Woojin just got very quiet and claimed to have found they key randomly in the streets.

Minho wasn’t stupid. Woojin obviously had some sort of past with The Under, but he wasn’t about to pry.  

“Neh Jisungie” he whispered again “What’s The Under like?”

Jisung didn’t tear his gaze from in front of him but sighed quietly in response.

“It’s a very dangerous place” Woojin answered for him, obviously hearing Minho’s question.

“Dangerous how?”

“It’s lawless down here.” Woojin explained “Like you think The Order is bad. The Under is led by a ruthless and cruel man who goes by the name Zico.” Woojin spat the last part out, almost like the name itself left a bad taste in his mouth. “Zico is……well…..let’s just say Zico is more often than naught the one pulling the trigger against your head.”

Minho gulped. He did not like Zico already.

“The Under are for the worst of the worst. Criminals. Murderers. Thief’s” Chan explained “They refuse The Order like the few of us, but unlike us who do it for the greater good, The Under exists only for anarchy.”

“If they had their way, The Under would destroy all of Spector just to make a statement” Woojin added.

Unknowingly, Minho began to fiddle with the locket that was now hanging around his neck feeling the anxiety setting in. He knew he should have thrown it away, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. He felt drawn to the object and the memories it gave him, even if most of them were false.

Jisung noticed this and eyed the small pendent. “What’s that?” he asked.

Minho’s hand froze almost immediately and he let the locket go, hands falling to his sides. “Oh it’s nothing…..” He knew he should feel ashamed. After all, Hyunjae was their enemy. Why should he cherish something that was given to him by him?

But yet he did.

While Minho was trapped in his own thoughts, the others began chatting quietly. “We are getting close” Woojin warned. “Stay on your guard” he hissed “Everyone down here is either looking to rob you, or kill you.”

 But of course Minho did not hear this, nor did he notice the flash of blonde rushing at him from the side. Jisung did, but it was too late. Suddenly Minho felt pain explode on his side as he got knocked sideways. Someone had just kicked him and his body went flying, hitting the cold hard wall behind him.

“Minho!”

Jisung’s words were drowned out as he groaned in pain.  His eyes shot opened and he looked up to see a strange blonde overlooking his slumped body, a fox like grin etched on his face. The stranger opened his palm to reveal a small golden object dangling from his hands and Minho’s heart sank.

His locket.

“Finders Keepers” the boy sneered, his fox smile getting bigger and bigger.

“Hey!” Minho yelled, quickly standing up. “Give that back!”

The fox boy looked down at the locket, then turned back to Minho, eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. “Ooooo tempting…but I think I’ll pass. Think of this as payment for not killing you guys on the spot.” Despite his severe words, the fox like grin seemed to be permanent on his face and he gave Minho a cheeky wave before dashing off in a blinding speed.

Minho let out a small growl and shot up, chasing after him despite his members yelling at him to come back. He locked eyes with the strange blonde who noticed Minho following him and begun running faster, almost catching up to him.  The thief noticed this and gave Minho a playful look

“Alright” he could hear him say “You wanna play? Then let’s play pretty boy.” His voice was light but Minho could hear the homicidal tone to it “Let me welcome you to The Under.”

#oof #can anyone guess who our blonde thief is? #kpop #stray kids #stray kids au #maze of miroh #lee know #minho #jisung #han #minsung #woojin #bang chan #chan #woochan #changbin #felix #changlix #hyunjin #seungmin #seungjin #jeongin #i.n

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 62

April first, through the confetti filled halls giggles spread welcoming you into your 19th year reminding the students and teachers alike just how young you were in the face of all of this. A dinner at home was the ending to it with most heading off to their own bed while you stayed up with your father, there was a juice toast over alcohol as you had shared your mental frailty you were hoping to hide with alcohol. A truth Sirius and the men knew well and agreed to join you in your sober days and nights in a form of solidarity.

*

That lunch however brought a familiar face into the Great Hall.

Hermione, “Harry. That's Katie. Katie Bell.”

Harry popped up and approached her, “Katie. How are you?”

Lowly she replied, “I know you're going to ask, Harry, but I don't know who cursed me. I've been trying to remember, honestly. But I just can't. Jaqi did say she got a fragmented memory from me.” She continued softer, “Said something about gathering more evidence, said it wasn’t isolated, whatever that means.”

Harry nodded muttering back, “Nothing seems to be isolated anymore.”

Her hand settled on his shoulder snapping his eyes to hers, “She knows who it is and is watching them, all the Professors are just like Quirrell.” The statement calmed him but only a little, “We have to not know, or like with Umbridge we’ll all let them know.”

“Makes sense…” In her turn to take her seat he remained in place turning his head to see you talking to Barty and Snape remembering the secret being kept from you and he began to hate this war the longer he thought about the weight of all you had faced in these halls and were still facing in the hopes of protecting him and countless others.

*

‘Jaqi, please come.’ The tear smudged note was simple and right as your first class let out you opened one of the windows to your classroom and shifted to fly out to Hagrid’s hut. Shifting back just outside the front steps you turned your head hearing distant sobs making you hurry after them. “Hagrid?!”

Further into the trees you heard it growing louder between your raged breaths until you came to a stop on the edge of the Acromantula territory. Looking around curiously at the oddly silent creatures you called out again, “Hagrid?!” Cautiously entering the first inches of web coated earth, the further you got the still creatures stood watch of your entrance and approach to Hagrid, who was kneeling in front of a wheezing Aragog curled up on his belly making you draw closer open mouthed.

“Aragog..” Crouching beside Hagrid your hand reached out to pat his leg closest to you.

Lowly Aragog spoke, “There you are, little one. I have a favor to ask you.”

“of course” you whispered.

“Keep watch over Hagrid and my children. You are strong and will see them safely into the future as we have protected you.”

Weakly you chuckled feeling a tear roll down your cheek, “You don’t have to ask, you’re practically family.”

Aragog stated, “One more thing,” You nodded, “When I am gone, I want you to have my heart.” Parting your lips, “I am aware of the rarity of a fully matured heart of my kind, Hagrid made mention of it in use for one of your potions, I want you to have mine. I am too old to face the darkness coming at your sides, have my heart and use me how I can be useful.”

Weakly in Hagrid’s sobs you replied, “Okay.”

Together you sat with him and when he’d passed you helped Hagrid bring his body out to the hut preventing the young ones from eating his body and allowed them to decide the new leader of the grounds. Inside the hut Hagrid went as you said, “Why don’t you put the kettle on?” Tearfully he nodded knowing what you had to do and that he didn’t want to see it. Until he was inside you waited to magically separate the chest plate and disconnect the silvery blue glowing heart with a foot of glowing veins you left in tact to jar up. The opening sealed behind it on its own as your hand reached out to stroke his chest, “I’m going to miss running into you, and all our adventures.”

Leaving him outside under a sheet of forget-me-nots you conjured you turned from his body to the hut to console your friend who pulled the whistling kettle off the hook above the flames when you entered. Through the open door when his eyes hit you they shifted to the colored blanket in the field of green, “Oh,” he let out a touched exhale, “You remembered his favorite flowers.”

Grinning at him you said, “How could I forget?” Leaving the door open you sat with him at his side discussing the plans he had tried to formulate for where to bury Aragog with only a spot under a twisted oak tree where he used to hide under to visit Hagrid between his classes in free periods before his expulsion and after when he took the job as groundskeeper.

A headstone was sketched up and with a note to Harry sent off to join you for the funeral and dinner you reluctantly had to return to classes and left Hagrid to tend to some of his duties.

*

Ron, “Still no luck with figuring out Jaqi and Dumbledore, then, I take it?”

Harry was ready to scoff after another letter to meet Dumbledore had arrived, “Luck. That's it. All I need's a bit of luck.”

Finding his Liquid Luck vial he uncorked it and downed the whole thing and sat still waiting for it to take effect while Ron asked, “Well, how do you feel?”

All at once Harry grinned, “Excellent. Really excellent. Right. I'm going down to Hagrid's.”

Hermione, “What? No, Harry, you've got to go and speak to Dumbledore. We have a plan.”

“I know but, but I've got a good feeling about Hagrid's. I feel it's the place to be tonight. Do you know what I mean?”

Ron and Hermione said, “No.”

“Well, trust me, I know what I'm doing. Or Felix does. Besides, Jaqi did say to check in on him.”

.

On his way to Hagrid’s Hut he ran into Slughorn sneaking some clippings from one of the greenhouse windows, and jumped out when he noticed Harry, “Merlin's beard, Harry!”

“Sorry, sir. I should've announced myself. Cleared my throat, coughed. You probably feared I was Professor Sprout.”

“Yes, I did, actually. What makes you think that?”

“Well, just the general behavior, sir. The sneaking around, the jumping when you saw me. Are those Tentacula leaves, sir? They're very valuable, aren't they?”

“Ten Galleons a leaf to the right buyer. Not that I'm familiar with any such back alley transactions, but one does hear rumors. My own interests are purely academic, of course.”

“Personally, these plants always kind of freaked me out.”

“Exactly how did you get out of the castle, Harry?”

“Through the front door, sir. I'm off to Hagrid's. He's a very dear friend and I fancied paying him a visit. So if you don't mind, I will be going now.”

“Harry!” Slughorn called out when Harry turned to walk off.

“Sir?” He asked turning around for a moment.

“It's nearly nightfall. Surely you realize I can't allow you to go roaming the grounds by yourself.”

“Jaqi is waiting for me. If you still argue with letting me off alone, well, then, by all means, come along, sir.”

Halfway Slughorn stated after hearing a howl from the forest, “Harry, I must insist you accompany me back to the castle immediately!”

“That would be counterproductive, sir.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“No idea.”

.

Slightly stunned to see him as you drew the forget-me-nots back you named the approaching Professor, “Horace.”

Ignoring you out of shock for the creature belly up in front of you, he said, “Merlin's beard. Is that an actual Acromantula?”

“A dead one, I think, sir.” Nearing your side Harry asked, “What happened to Aragog?”

Asking Hagrid Slughorn said, “Good God. Dear fellow, however did you manage to kill it?”

Hagrid tearfully said, “Kill it? Me oldest friend, he was.”

Slughorn, “I'm so sorry, I didn't...”

Hagrid waved his hand, “Don't worry yourself, you're not alone. Seriously misunderstood creatures, spiders are. It's the eyes, I reckon. They unnerve some folk.”

Harry said drawing their eyes to him, “Not to mention the pincers.”

Hagrid looked him over, “Yeah, I reckon that too.”

Slughorn, “Hagrid, the last thing I wish to be is indelicate...but Acromantular venom is uncommonly rare. Would you allow me to extract a vial or two? Purely for academic purposes, you understand. Always have a ampoule or two about my person for just such occasions as this. Old Potions Master's habit, you know.”

Hagrid shook his hand, “Afraid not, Horace, Aragog willed his useful parts to Jaqi.” Slughorn looked you over as you turned to charm a large enough hole under the tree, whose roots shifted to allow you to do so and remain upright. “I wish you could've seen him in his prime. Magnificent, he was. Just magnificent.”

Harry eyed your move to raise Aragog with your wand revealing small tufts of hair and the tiny gripping toes on his legs you had removed for future use, “Oh, dear.”

Slughorn neared Hagrid’s side as you walked back laying the flowers over his body again in the hole, “Would you like me to say a few words?”

Hagrid nodded through a sniffle, “Yes.”

Slughorn, “He had a family, I trust?”

Harry chuckled out, “Oh, yeah.”

Slughorn looked from him to Aragog again, “Farewell...”

Hagrid sobbed out, “Aragog.”

With a nod he continued, “Farewell, Aragog......King of the arachnids. Your body will decay...but your spirit lingers on. And your human friends find solace in the loss they have sustained.” Gently over his body the roots folded around him and you eased the dirt back into the hole topped with a simple headstone the duo of Chimeras exited the forest alongside the herd of Centaurs to lay offerings on his grave and bow respectfully to Hagrid for his lost friend.

.

Inside while you sipped on a butterbeer the men downed another ale while you looked at Harry, who was grinning as he stroked Fang’s head. “I had him from an egg, you know. Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. No bigger than a Pekinese. A Pekinese, mind you.”

Slughorn, “How sweet. I once had a fish. Francis. He was very dear to me. One afternoon I came downstairs, and he'd vanished.”

Hagrid hiccupped, “That's very odd, isn't it?”

Slughorn nodded, “It is, isn't it? But that's life, I suppose. You go along and then suddenly, poof! It was a student who gave me Francis. One spring afternoon I discovered a bowl on my desk... with just a few inches of clear water in it. And floating on the surface was a flower petal. As I watched, it sank. Just before it reached the bottom... it transformed...into a wee fish. It was beautiful magic. Wondrous to behold. The flower petal had come from a lily.”

His eyes switched to you and Harry, “Came with this pocket watch, used to sing when it was opened, a song only I could hear, topped with a topaz bird on the lid. Your mother. And aunt. The day I came downstairs... the day the bowl was empty...the watch stopped singing… was the day your mothers...I know why you're here. But I can't help you. It would ruin me.”

Harry answered while you sipped on your drink, “I don’t want that memory. Do you know why we survived, Professor? The night I got this?” He asked rubbing his scar, “Because of them. My father, mother, aunt and cousin. Because my mother sacrificed herself. Because Jewels refused to speak. Because Jaqi was blocking most of my body with hers. Because they refused to step aside. Because their love was more powerful than Voldemort.”

In your rise to shift Hagrid into a kitten to take him off to bed in his nodding off, Slughorn mumbled, “Don't say his name.”

“I'm not afraid of the name, Professor. I'm going to tell you something. Something others have only guessed at. It's true. I am the Chosen One. Only I can destroy him,” With a sigh your eyes closed for a moment after tucking Hagrid into his bed listening to what Harry said, “but in order to do so... I need to know what Dumbledore said to get that secret from you. Not the secret, but his actions or words in trying to get it. He’s scared of Jaqi, and I don’t know why. Be brave, Professor. Be brave like my mother. Like Aunt Jewels. Otherwise, you disgrace them. Otherwise, they died for nothing. Otherwise, the watch will never sing again and the bowl will remain empty forever.”

Slughorn replied drawing out his wand he tapped to his head, “Please, don't think badly of me when you see it. You've no idea what he was like, even then.”

The vial once capped was pocketed by Harry and when you entered again Slughorn said to you, “Jaqi, I believe it best we get young Harry back inside, and perhaps I might secure a few ounces of that venom you have obtained.”

Flashing him a grin you joined Harry up the steps on the long walk to the castle, in which Harry folded the vial that kept sliding up out of his pocket in the tall steps into your palm allowing your mind to tap into it seeing the memory.

Wine had flowed and even in the drunken haze you caught Dumbledore’s pressing every emotional button he had knowledge of on Slughorn, even to the point of charming a table into a wall and shouting at him until he handed the warped memory over.

Separating a small portion of venom out you said, “I have an exam in the morning. Here is the venom,” a regretful look flashed in his eyes and you smiled at him, “I am a little tired, perhaps we could have lunch tomorrow instead?”

Smiling in return he replied, “What a lovely exchange, I look forward to it. Sleep well.” Not waiting for an answer he turned and you turned the opposite way resting your arm on Harry’s back guiding him along.

Harry, “Could you see the memory?”

You nodded, “Yes, all but threw him against the wall. He is getting ruthless in this game of his.”

Harry looked up at you, “Are you sleeping better? You don’t seem as tired.”

With a grin you looped your arm over his shoulders making him grin wider, “Well Mr Chosen One, I’m not being attacked by bludgers on the regular so the exercises help to tire me out.”

Harry, “That is good.”

*

Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch match. Gryffindor wins 450 to 140, the final match of the year was only topped by your expected absence for a week to start the Quidditch League Cup. Many had hoped for it to be in England this year, though due to a late raid in the season, partly due to a half tipsy admission of yours in your last dinner at the Manor with Riddle that Scotland’s best stadium had just barely missed out on hosting the event. The London stadium was left well beyond repair two weeks before the event and word was sent out the newly reinforced stadium would host the games.

Press had gone wild in the final event. Each team had faced scrutiny, and especially as the only female on the team in a confirmed relationship a whisper had grown to a roar in the bump of your weight back up from your more thinning frame had let fly that you were expecting and keeping mum to not spoil the games. Rumor was enough but in the approach of the other teams and a stolen glimpse of one player from the Wanderers in your morning workout. On the day of arrival to the tiny camp set up for players, a view of your toned belly being unbound revealing warming packs for the early morning chill spread a grin across his face and he bolted back to share the trick behind your aiding to some minor ailment, not a hidden baby bump being disguised.

.

Ballycastle Bats, Wigtown Wnderers, Caerphilly Catapults and your team the Kenmare Kestrals were the top four teams up for the League Title this year.

In order you were split into pairs and with a day between each game the non playing teams enjoyed the games in the private teams box surprisingly free of any strategy. Merely cheers, ooh’s and oww’s for each play until the final play was made and painfully the Bats stole away the first win and celebrated through the following day joined by the other three teams eager to see how the next games would go.

Irritatingly enough after a sleepless night of sending more House Elves to snatch dozens of Muggles and Wizards alike you sat sipping on your energy boosting potion to keep from getting dizzy. The fizzy orange soda like drink making your eyes all but pop open wider when you downed the last sip. It wasn’t useless as right off the first grip of the Quaffle the bludgers seemed to focus right on you, as they should, to disable your team’s thief. But in their focused plan to avoid another loss by your devious antics Cedric laughed in the ten minute mark triggering the final horns calling the game as he held the Snitch securing your win 195 – 40. Giggling at the absurdity of it all you made your way to the after luncheon and then went to your room to try and get some sleep.

The pair of wins, both equally upsetting to fans expecting games to go quite the opposite the world seemed to split between crowds of green flooded with harp memorabilia for your favor and bats to play to your opponents. But Ireland seemed to be the top runners either way.

Fully loaded the family box sat, at least for the first day, as the single with an estimated 4 hour match grew into a two and a half day onslaught pausing each four hours for meals and every eight for an allowed ten hour break to sleep and ready for the match to continue up again. It never seemed to end but a final standing score from you came just moments before your slide off your broom onto Fred below you in your lack of time to avoid the unconscious beater George had accidentally knocked straight into your path. Into Fred’s lap you were settled and the horns rang out as the opposing seeker caught the Snitch giving you a staggering five point lead in the 1045 – 1040 point spread. All in all it was over and you all let out an exhausted breath and sat together on the winner’s block in contorted piles each supporting the trophy over your heads with your extended wands for lack of physical strength to hold the fifty pound behemoth.

.

The press seemed to rush you through the next week as interviews and dinner parties, including one with the Minister of Magic, in which he tried to scoop you and Harry into accepting roles as giving interviews showing allegiance to the ministry. An offer you said you would share with Harry upon your return, which fell on the birthday breakfast for Professor Sprout, in which you gained a giddy squeak from her handing over some rare cuttings she had been wishing to travel for you heard her mention in passing weeks prior.

Eventually the excited questions died down and focus returned to the courses and exams coming up you were prepping the younger students for while aiding the elders in extra practice for their OWLS and NEWTS in scheduled smaller groups on set days in each home room.

Pt 63

#Aragog #Hagrid #Harry #Slughorn #Memories #Quidditch European League Cup

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: The Talk Part 2 (Alec Volturi x Reader)

You sat in your car silently, eyeing Bella's bedroom window. She was on the phone, pacing and you had no need for three guesses to who it could have been. You were on your own phone, staring up at her window hearing long rings. Finally a woman answered. "I don't speak Italian." You said hurriedly before she could finish her greeting. "Good day, Volterra castle, Bianca speaking, how can I help you today?" "It's (Y/N), im... Alec's my boyfriend, can you put him in the phone please?" There was a long pause. "One moment." Your hands had begun to shake. You needed to hear his voice and you had to be gone before Edward arrived. "(Y/N)?" Alec's voice was suddenly on the other end. "You don't usually call, is everything alright?" Your bottom lip quivered trying to find the answer to such a question. "I told Bella about us." You said quickly, choking back a sob. There was silence. "She's angry, said a lot of things." "Do you need me to be there? I can speak to my masters and try to find the time." You were very aware his words. Alec was busy. You could handle it. You knew what you had to do. The fear began to wash away from your face, suddenly feeling drained. "No." You shook your head. "No, don't worry. I'll be okay. " "Are-" "I'll be fine, I think she just needs space. We both do. I can handle this. It doesn't need to be made more difficult with everyone. I'm sorry I bothered you." "(Y/N)-" "I need to go, okay?" Alec seemed to struggle getting your attention and really determine if you were downplaying the situation. "I love you, Alec." "I love you. Would you tell me if you weren't alright?" Alec had to know. "Of course. Goodbye." Alec stayed on the phone even after you hung up. He couldn't help but be slightly unconvinced though he had to take your word for it. Before he could think further on it, Jane called out to him. He was being called back to his place. Alec hung up the phone. 

Twelve hours had passed. "Anything?" Jasper took Alice's arms gently as she stared into the floor, though she wasn't seeing that. "Nothing. They're only in the woods." "Where?" Edward pressed as Bella took a step forward. "I don't know. (Y/N) doesn't know. All i see are trees." "We can't let this go any further. They have no intention of going home." Carlisle spoke up. "They're human, how far could they really go?" Edward began to grow exasperated. "Quite far if they haven't slept and are very distraught." Rosalie said flatly. "Don't test me today Rosalie." Edward bit back a growl. "Dude." Emmett's eyes narrowed on Edward in warning.  "Why? Because Bella lost her patience and said awful things for her family? Take responsibility." Rosalie's eyes shifted to Bella. "We don't particularly like it either but you should never have let them walk out that door." "Rose..." Esme warned. "It wasn't her fault!" Edward raised his voice. "Enough!" Esme warned again, the tone in her voice leaving no room for arguments. "We can't find (Y/N) if they don't know where they are. The longer they are missing shortens their chance of survival. I have no other choice but to contact the Volturi." Edward looked angry but was in no position to protest. He knew Carlisle was right. 

Bianca moved quickly, heels clacking against the stone floors in the dimly lit corridor. The throne room doors opened. "Ah, Bianca has brought us something." Aro spoke about Bianca as though she was a pet and perhaps she was. Humans must have been like pets to some vampires with such an age difference. Aro, with a gentle touch, grasped the envelope and tore it open in a fluid motion. Aro hummed. "This is very grave news." Caius turned to his brother waiting for an explanation. "Alec, you may want to hear this." Alec turned his head to look at Aro. "Tell us of this unfortunate news." Marcus spoke up. "Carlisle has sent us notice that (Y/N) has been missing as of twelve hours before writing." 

Alec was immediately at Aro's side who passed the note to him. Alec was clearly in shock, his eyes wide, darkening by the second, mouth pursed in a tight line.  Alec suddenly looked to Demetri. “Where are they?” “I haven’t-”  “Where’s my (Y/N)!?“ Alec suddenly screamed. 

Barely fifteen minutes later the receptionist had hurried back to inform them that you were on the phone. Alec practically flew to the entrance, Jane following and barely catching the words from Aro. "Demetri, track them.” 

Alec picked up the phone frantically. “(Y/N)!?” “Alec…” “Where are you?”  He asked hurriedly, eager to get as much information he could from you. “I…I don’t know.” “I’m coming for you okay?” “I’m okay.” “No, you’re not! I know you’ve ran away.” “I didn’t know what else to do.” You whispered and Alec squeezed his eyes shut. “Alec…I’m cold.” “I’m coming to get you alright? I just need to find out where you are.” “I smashed my phone.” You rambled. “I couldn’t have it be traced, I’m using a pay phone but nothing about where I am.” “Its alright, don’t worry.” The phone went dead and in perfect timing Demetri was with the twins in seconds. “I found them. Felix and i have to go and collect them immediately.” “I need to go.” Alec insisted. “You’re not permitted, you’re needed here.” Demetri paused. “Alec you have my word i will bring them here unharmed as soon as possible.” “You better.” Alec’s mouth twisted, biting back his fury and Jane took his hand. 

Another night had passed before you immediately had Demetri and Felix in your face and inspecting you. “Demetri?” “That’s a good sign.” Demetri sighed in relief. He immediately tugged off his jacket before putting it on you and fastening it. “Cold…” “I know, you’ll warm it up.” “C'mon kid.” Felix said as he bent down and lifted you into his arms making you look tiny and Demetri’s large jacket wasn’t helping. 

When Alec heard about your return he immediately hurried to you. Demetri’s jacket was draped over you whilst you were sound asleep. Demetri passed Alec saying he’d be searching for a blanket. You looked exhausted and miserable, even when sleeping. Alec fell to his knees, continuing to look you over but didn’t dare touch you. He didn’t want anything cold touching you and the fire you lay in front of was warming you up. Alec wished he had asked more questions, pressed you or even listened to the tiny voice of doubt in his mind. What could have possibly have happened to make you do such a thing? He turned to see Heidi in the doorway. “Are they okay?” She asked lightly. “I don’t know. I think so.” Alec responded quietly. “The Cullen’s have been informed that they’ve been found. They’re requesting to see them. The masters have left the decision to you.“ "I lost my mate… literally. If we didn’t have Demetri I might have never found them in time and it’s all their fault. So my answer is no.” “No?” Heidi wanted to know more. “Not until I know what happened and even then, they might not be so lucky as to see them ever again.” Heidi nodded. “I’ll let everyone know.” 

Slowly, your eyes opened. You were pleasantly surprised to see Alec though you quickly realised his eyes were pitch black and he looked very vulnerable. “Have you fed?” Your voice croaked. “Yes.” “Your eyes… they’re black.” “Yes, because I’m upset. You scared me.” Alec said quietly, his dark eyes piercing into yours. “I’m sorry-” “what happened!?” Alec was clearly distraught. “Bella said some horrible things when she found out about you and I.” “What did she say?” You slowly shook your head. “It isn’t worth repeating, i want to forget it.” “I was really worried.” He admitted. You reached out, your fingers grasping his jacket and tugging him closer. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. After a moment, Alec broke away to turn his back to you in thought. Slowly you sat on the sofa. “She hates me, Alec.” You said quietly and Alec stopped turning back to you. “She hates me.” Alec put his hands on your shoulders before leaning into comfort you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

#request #twilight #volturi #reader #the volturi #alec volturi #one shot #oneshot #part 2

[thenamesseven]

Plot: Every time Changbin closes his eyes bad memories invade him.

Warning: This is pretty angsty! I am so sorry for writing something like this T-T

This was requested by @hwangscorpio! I hope you like it and sorry for taking so long!

Changbin looked up into the grey sky, his hands inside his pockets as he stared up with his mind being absolutely blank. He blinked a couple of times when suddenly, a drop of water landed on his cheek surprising him. A sad yet ironic smile made its way up to his lips as he looked down at you.

“Funny” He said sadly, kneeling down on the ground in front of you “That night was raining too”

Life had its ways to make you suffer.

Changbin had always been the type of person who thought that even in your darkest moments, there was always going to be a small light that would guide you back to the right path but as he stared at you, with his knees on the cold and wet ground, he thought this time he had truly lost himself and nobody would be able to bring him back.

Closing his eyes, Changbin’s body got tense.

Every time he was surrounded by darkness his blank mind would be filled with flashbacks from that fateful night. There weren't too many things he feared but that was something that truly terrified him.

Psychologists say tragic events were usually blocked by the brain or in other cases, if they weren’t, you would just have to get used to live with those traumatic memories. He had also been advised to avoid anything that could trigger his mind to go through what happened that night again but, how could he forget about it? How could he avoid everything? He had lost his entire world in those mere seconds, he was absolutely useless and that's something he will never forget or get used to remember.

“I know" His shaky voice broke the silence "I know I shouldn’t think like this” He said weakly, opening his eyes again to look at you “Please don’t scold me” The sarcastic smile on his face turned into a softer one full of warmth and love.

Changbin took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

He was trying to come up with the right words to say to you in this weird encounter. He never thought you two would be in this situation but again, live is a bitch who, must hate you two so much to put you through this.

As soon as his vision turned black all Changbin could see was water. His body became rigid and his lungs stopped working for a second. He knew this was just his imagination, that it was his subconsciousness playing tricks on him, making fun of how useless he had been that night.

“(Y/N)”

His voice came out as a really weak yet soft whisper, his eyes blocked and not opening. Changbin’s breathing became quieter, softer as he tried to calm down but he was still surrounded by water and there was nothing that could scared him more than that. He could have been able to calm down if the rain falling onto his body wouldn't make him wet, wouldn’t make his imagination feel so much more real than it was.

“I tried” This time the words came out lower than a whisper. Since he still had his eyes closed, Changbin felt the pressure the water around him was making. That’s why he was scared of opening his mouth or breathing too much, he didn’t want to feel that tasty water in his mouth, he didn’t want it to choke him.

Again.

His hands turned into fists, clutching and almost breaking the white flowers he was holding. “I brought your favorites, I know you love this ugly flowers” He tried to tease you, attempting to light up the mood in the awkward yet extremely tense atmosphere. Debating whether he should open his eyes or not.

If he opened them he would have to look at you and face the horrible reality that life was but if he kept them closed Changbin would still be surrounded by water, by the thing that broke you two apart.

He imagined listening to you whining about how your favorite flowers weren’t ugly, he could almost hear the sound of you giggles through the thick amount of blue water surrounding him but right there, as if live didn't want to give him a break from reality, a flash invaded his mind.

Suddenly he was back in that damn car, arguing and shouting at you while you simply shouted back at him. The rain was hitting the front glass pretty hard, he hadn’t looked at the forecast before asking you out on a date and the storm had caught both of you by surprise on your way back to the dorms.

Changbin groaned, willing to open his eyes but he couldn’t do it just yet. Maybe, since he already knew how the argument was going to end and what was going to happen, he could try to save you so his mind would finally be in peace. Maybe if he caught your hand, if he apologized right before the accident happened, he would be able to sleep by your side every single night again. Maybe if he looked into your eyes one last time he would be able to forgive himself.

The flowers fell onto the earthy ground as his hands gripped the cloth of his jeans.

Changbin tried to shut you up in his imagination, to calm you down so he could explain what was about to happen but you kept shouting and not listening to him.

Before he could do anything, the bright lights of the truck struck both of you. There was the sound of a honk blocking your fearful shouts and then, a strong impact that sent your car straight down a hill and into the lake that was next to the road, with you two inside of it.

A whimper escaped Changbin’s lips when the cold water touched his body.

He leaned forward on his knees, crossing his arms on the ground to rest his forehead against them. He was just trying to remind himself that what he was going through was just a memory and not a real event. He wanted to open his eyes and save himself from drowning so bad but he had to save you, Changbin needed to get you out of that car before you drowned.

When he turned his head he found your unconscious body just sitting there, a small trail of bubbles leaving your lips as the last bit of oxygen you had in your lungs abandoned you. Determined and less panicked, Changbin kicked the front glass with the only intention of breaking it so he could take you out and try to carry you to the surface. It was harder that it seemed though. The glass didn’t break at the first or second kick, it broke when he was about to pass out, when Changbin was almost ready to let go and explore the lake's bottom with you.

But then life gave him a chance and he broke it. With the little strength he had, he managed to wrap an arm around your body and slid the two of you out of the car pushing your bodies up to the surface, he wriggled his free arm, his exhausted legs also moving. Changbin could see the surface getting closer and closer with each second he spent swimming, he was so closed to save you, he was almost there.

Right when he was about to reach it, to push you up so you could finally breathe somebody placed their hand on his shoulder squeezing it, yanking him out of his imagination and making Changbin abruptely open his eyes. He gasped loudly, taking a deep yet sudden breath as his eyes directly landed on your grave, on the stone that had your name on it and was supposed to be you from now on.

“Changbin! God, you scared me so much, you weren’t breathing!” Chan shouted, kneeling down besides him scared, shaking his body gently “Are you okay?” He asked concerned

“No” He whispered staring at your grave, his flowers resting on it “I was about to save her...I was so close...” Changbin broke into sobs, his body shaking as his band members surrounded him to support his friend “I’m so sorry….” He whispered, feeling himself being lifted up and dragged back into the car.

He wasn’t ready to confront reality yet.

"Please! Please (Y/N) forgive me!" He shouted before Felix got inside the van with him, closing the door and blocking his view.

His mind just couldn’t accept that while he had got out of that lake, you had ended up drowning in it.

Changbin closed his eyes again to take deep breaths and calm himself down before he had another panick attack.

But all he could see was simply water.

#kpop fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids chan #stray kids changbin #stray kids fanfic #stray kids felix #stray kids fluff #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids jeongin #stray kids jisung #stray kids minho #stray kids seungmin #stray kids angst #stray kids woojin #changbin angst

[dfroza]

do you believe in rebirth?

do you fully trust in the message of grace? or do you find your heart standing against it, closing yourself off to it, or ignoring it completely?

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 23rd chapter of the book of Acts in which Paul states his hope in the face of opposition:

Paul stared at the council and spoke.

Paul: Brothers, I have always lived my life to this very day with a clear conscience before God.

Ananias the high priest signaled those standing near Paul to hit him on the mouth.

Paul: You hypocrite! God will slap you! How dare you sit in judgment and claim to represent the law, while you violate the law by ordering me to be struck for no reason?

Bystanders: The nerve of you insulting the high priest of God!

Paul: I’m sorry, my brothers. I didn’t realize this was the high priest. The law warns us to not curse the ruler of the people.

Paul noticed that some members of the council were Sadducees and some were Pharisees, so he quickly spoke to the council.

Paul: Brothers, I am a Pharisee, born to a Pharisee. I am on trial because I have hope that the dead are raised!

That got the two parties arguing with one another because the Sadducees say there is no such thing as resurrection, heavenly messengers, or spirits, and the Pharisees believe in all three.

Soon these leaders were shouting, and some of the scholars from the party of the Pharisees rose to their feet.

Pharisees: There is nothing wrong with this man. Maybe he really has encountered a spirit or a heavenly messenger.

The two parties were about to start throwing punches, and the commandant was afraid Paul would be torn to pieces, so he sent in his soldiers to intervene. They took Paul back into custody and returned him to their barracks. That night the Lord came near and spoke to him.

The Lord: Keep up your courage, Paul! You have successfully told your story about Me in Jerusalem, and soon you will do the same in Rome.

That morning a group of more than 40 Jewish opponents conspired to kill Paul. They bound themselves by an oath that they wouldn’t eat or drink until he was dead. They told the chief priests and elders about their plan.

Jewish Opponents: We’ve made an oath not to eat or drink until this man is dead. So you and the council must ask the commandant to bring Paul to meet with you. Tell him that you want to further investigate Paul’s case. We’ll get rid of the troublemaker on his way here.

Now Paul had a nephew who heard about the planned ambush; he managed to gain entry into the barracks and alerted Paul. Paul called one of the officers.

Paul: Take this young man to the commandant. He has news the commandant needs to hear.

The officer took him to the commandant.

Officer: The prisoner named Paul asked me to bring this man to you. He has some kind of information.

The commandant led him away so they could speak in private.

Commandant: What do you want to tell me?

Young Man: The Jewish council is going to ask you to bring Paul down to the council tomorrow under the pretext that there will be a thorough examination. But don’t agree to do it, because 40 assassins have bound themselves to an oath not to eat or drink until they’ve killed Paul. Their plan is in motion, and they’re simply waiting for you to play your part.

The commandant sent the young man home with these instructions: “Don’t tell a soul that you’ve spoken with me.” Then he called for two officers.

Commandant: At nine o’clock tonight, you will leave for Caesarea with 200 soldiers, 70 horsemen, and 200 spearmen. Have a mount for Paul to ride, and conduct him safely to Felix the governor.

He wrote the following letter:

Commandant Claudius Lysias greets his excellency, Felix, Governor. The accompanying prisoner was seized by Jews who were about to kill him. I learned he was a Roman citizen and intervened with the guard here to protect him. I arranged for a hearing before their council and learned that he was accused for reasons relating to their religious law, but that he has done nothing deserving imprisonment or execution. I was informed that a group was planning to assassinate him, so I sent him to you immediately. I will require his accusers to present their complaint before you.

So the soldiers followed their orders and safely conducted Paul as far as Antipatris that night. The next day, the horsemen conducted him on to Caesarea as the foot soldiers returned to the barracks. The horsemen delivered the letter and the prisoner to Felix who read the letter. The only question Felix asked concerned the province of Paul’s birth. When he learned Paul was from Cilicia, he said,

Felix: As soon as your accusers arrive I will hear your case.

He placed Paul under guard within Herod’s headquarters.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 14th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that looks at God’s Justice being done, even to prophetically point to the fall of the lying dragon who deceives the whole earth:

For the Eternal will extend mercy to Jacob, this family of God’s people. God will choose Israel all over again, and He will settle them in comfort and rest back on their land. Others who are unrelated will want to join them and stick close to the house of Jacob, God’s promise people, who will take them in. These others will work for and among Israel. Whoever used to hold Israel captive—controlling the people’s every moment and every move—will in turn be controlled by Israel; and whoever used to oppress Israel will instead be subject to Israel.

Ah, Israel, there will be a time when the Eternal will give you rest from the burden of your labor, the pain of your servitude. And then you will take up this chant against the fallen king of Babylon:

People: How silent and still the oppressor;

the pressure is gone; the raging is done!

The Eternal has broken the hold of the wicked,

snapped the staff and the scepter of tyrannical rulers.

They would stop at nothing to beat, batter, and bruise the nations,

constantly raging as they hunted down and tyrannized the peoples.

The whole earth, mountains to sea, breathes a sigh of relief;

the peace and quiet erupts into a lively, joyful song.

The cypresses and cedars of Lebanon rejoice at his demise, singing:

“You can’t hurt us anymore. Now that you’ve been cut down,

No one comes to cut us down!”

O Babylon, the land of the dead is excited to greet you at its door.

Your king will enter the grave with ghastly pomp.

It stirs the shadows and spirits of the dead—all long forgotten leaders—

it arouses all the dethroned kings of the nations to welcome your arrival.

These departed souls will respond to you with rattling voices,

Departed Souls: Even you, who were so powerful and unstoppable in life,

have been weakened just like us!

All of your pomp and power and the music of your harps join you here

where the dead abide,

Where maggots squirm beneath you,

where worms cover you like a blanket.

My, how you’ve fallen from the heights of heaven!

O morning star, son of the dawn!

What a star you were, as you menaced and weakened the nations,

but now you’ve been cut down, fallen to earth.

Remember how you said to yourself,

“I will ascend to heaven—reach higher and with more power—

and set my throne high above God’s own stars?”

Remember how you thought you could be a god, saying:

“I will sit among them at the mount of assembly in the northern heights.

I will rise above the highest clouds and

make myself like the Most High”?

Hah! Instead, you have sunk like a stone to where the dead abide.

You’ve hit bottom of the bottommost pit.

People peer down at you from above,

and their curiosity overflows.

People: Wow, is this the man who once terrorized the world?

Is he the one who rocked the earth’s kingdoms and threatened us with disaster?

Is he the one who turned the bustling cities of the world into a wasteland,

and never let the prisoners of war go home?

While all the other world leaders are memorialized with honor,

and each occupies his own elaborate tomb,

You will be reviled and disgraced—your tomb desecrated,

your corpse thrown aside like a worthless branch.

Those slain in battle, pierced by swords, will cover you;

you’ll go down to the pit like a corpse left on the battlefield.

Because you wrecked your own land and killed your own people,

your corpse will not share in the honor of a proper burial.

May the offspring of such evil never be mentioned again;

don’t speak their names or hear their tales.

Let them be obliterated because of their fathers’ wicked deeds

so that they never have a chance to follow in their steps,

Terrorizing and possessing the earth,

filling up the world with their cities!

Then people can live in normalcy and peace.

Eternal One: I will move against Babylon and put an end to her future generations. I will cut them off—leaving no survivors—so that your oppressors will become nameless and faceless shadows. I’ll sweep that city with My broom of destruction and turn its pools into stagnant marshes and leave its ruins to be ruled by wild animals.

God swears that our oppressors will be punished. The Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, makes this pledge.

Eternal One: Things will happen as I plan.

Things will be as I determine.

I will break Assyria’s hold on My land;

on mountain after mountain I will trample over them.

Then My people will no longer have to bow beneath the Assyrian yoke

or bear up under its heavy burden.

Because I, God of earth and heaven,

have devised a plan for the whole earth;

I have reached out and am ready to effect change among the nations.

And who can argue with that or stand in God’s way?

The Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, has determined

That this is how it should be.

And so it will be.

When our king, Ahaz, died having endured and survived Assyria’s attacks against us, the prophet received this message.

Don’t get too excited, Philistia, because your enemy is dead.

The rod that struck you may be broken,

But from the root of the serpent, a viper will come out;

the offspring of that viper will be a flying cobra.

The poor among us will have enough to eat;

the needy and most vulnerable will sleep in peace.

But I will go after your key people with famine,

and then wipe out any who remain.

Look out, Philistia; you will soon vanish!

Let your gates and your city walls cry out!

It’ll be bad for you soon, because an army from the north

Is bearing down on you, burning cities in its wake;

and there is not a straggler in its ranks.

So, how do we answer the ambassadors of the nations?

The Eternal has made Zion what it is—

And His humbled and afflicted people will find shelter there.

The Book of Isaiah, Chapter 14 (The Voice)

to be accompanied by a poetic post that points to the same act of “Checkmate” against the lie:

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, june 22 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks at the significance of adhering to spiritual truth:

Recall that our Torah portion last week centered on the rebellion of Korah, a man who questioned God’s authority and arrogantly sought to “intrude” into the office of the priesthood. It is noteworthy that his rebellion is explicitly mentioned only once in the New Testament - in the Book of Jude - as an example of the fate that awaits those false teachers who likewise despise God’s moral law. Unfortunately, Jude’s warning is often neglected today, probably because people feel uncomfortable over the prospect of God’s judgment. After all, in our “politically correct” age, people have been indoctrinated to regard “tolerance” as the greatest of virtues and “intolerance” (especially of moral evil) as the greatest of vices.... Most unbelievers don’t mind hearing the “good news” of God’s love, but they take exception when they are confronted with their personal duty to live according to the moral truth revealed in the Torah. Everyone wants to go to heaven though they don’t want to find a Holy LORD when they get there... False teachers within the church are dangerous because they feed on this sense of discomfort and attempt to rationalize or compromise it away. Jude identifies them as spiritual impostors who “work from the inside” to confound or obscure the truth of God. Such a charlatan may appear to be a genuine believer, but their hidden agenda is to sow confusion and sin among God’s children. They are proverbial “wolves in sheep’s clothing” (Matt. 7:15). Jude’s warning is especially important for us to heed today, because in the time immediately preceding the coming of the Messiah, spiritual deception and unbridled godlessness will greatly increase (2 Tim. 3:1-5).

It is important to see that the primary characteristic of a false teacher is that they “deny our only Master and LORD, Yeshua the Messiah” -- that is, they deny His moral authority and identity as the LORD God (Jude 1:4). Since Jude is writing to those who are “beloved by God,” that is, to sincere Jewish believers, he is careful to remind us that it was Yeshua Himself who saved the people from Egypt -- but afterward destroyed those who did not believe (Jude 1:5). In other words, Jude wanted to ensure that we fully understand that it was Yeshua who was the thunderous "Voice of the Living God speaking from the midst of the fire" at Sinai (Deut. 5:26), and therefore to regard Him as none other than the great Lawgiver Himself (Matt. 5:17-7:29). That is why he is called “our only Master and LORD,” and to esteem him as anything less is to deny the reality and truth of God.

Many churches today teach that we can (and should) disregard the moral law of God. They may give lip service to the “old testament,” and they may claim it is still of historical interest that provides some interesting stories, but they arrogantly discount its essential message of holiness as being inapplicable to our daily lives. Often they are antinomian, teaching that we are no longer “under the law” and therefore are free to live in sin. Because they disregard (or “reinterpret”) the clear moral teaching of the Torah (and the New Testament), they wink at fornication, support alternative “marriages,” endorse gay clergy, and clamor for abortion rights. Many of the institutionalized churches promote syncretistic “replacement theology” that invent rituals, holidays, and symbols that are alien to the truth revealed in the Jewish Scriptures. These churches are often tolerant of “universalism,” new age mysticism, and regard postmodern skepticism as “trendy.” They may claim they are “seeker sensitive” but this is often “code” that they disregard the moral duty believers have to walk in personal righteousness. And because of their willful ignorance, some of these churches unthinkingly accept anti-Jewish propaganda - despite the irrevocable promises God has made to the Jewish people. Jude likens advocates of such doctrines to be “inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah” who will likewise be judged by God with eternal fire...

In this connection let me remind you of a verse from the New Testament: "Let no one in any way deceive you, for it [Yeshua’s return] will not come until the apostasy (ἀποστασία) comes....” (2 Thess. 2:3). The word "apostasy" literally means "standing away" (ἀπό + ἵστημι) from the truth while making a pretense of abiding within it. In Hebrew, the word is meshuvah (מְשׁוּבָה), one who “turns away” from God. It is not a word that describes an unbeliever as much as it describes a traitor.... Some people think there will be a great time of revival just before Yeshua returns, but unfortunately that is not true. Indeed, Yeshua asked if he would find anyone who had faith at that time (Luke 18:8). At any rate, Jude states that those who “creep into” congregations to teach truth contrary to the revealed will of God are apostates, and the judgment they face is terrible to consider.

We can guard against false teachers by using discernment to “test their spirits” (1 John 4:1), but we can only be equipped to do so if we "build ourselves up in the most holy faith" (Jude 1:20). We build ourselves up by carefully studying the word of God - especially the Torah, since it is the foundation of all that follows. In this way we will be able to accurately wield the Sword of the Spirit (2 Tim. 2:15-16, 2 Pet. 1:19-20). In order to grow, we must have "good soil" for the seed of the word to take root. We "get rooted by knowing the roots" of our faith! Studying the Scriptures and praying in the Holy Spirit keeps us in the love of God as we await the mercy of Yeshua who gives us eternal life (Jude 1:21). This equips us to show mercy to those who have honest doubts and to save those defiled by sin (Jude 1:22-23). [Hebrew for Christians]

6.22.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

June 22, 2021

Immediate Results

“For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.” (Romans 8:22)

Sometimes we don’t get to see the results of our work or choices soon enough to suit us. But on one occasion, a man’s choice and resulting action were given immediate attention, and the effects of that attention even now rule the universe.

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat” (Genesis 3:6).

The result of Adam’s deliberate sin—“Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression” (1 Timothy 2:14)—was immediate and total punishment upon Adam and Eve, and through them on all humanity (Genesis 3:14-19). “Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned” (Romans 5:12). “For the creature [or ‘creation’] was made subject to vanity [that is, ‘futility’], not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope” (8:20).

This “bondage of corruption” (v. 21) placed upon the entire creation, now known to science as the Second Law of Thermodynamics, is known to all of us as the basic tendency of life. Everything is in the process of death and decay. This law will one day be removed; but until then, we, like the groaning, travailing creation of our text, “groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body” (v. 23).

Although we recognize now that “the wages of sin is death,” we can be very thankful that the story doesn’t end there, for “the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6:23). JDM