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banquetwriter · 2 years

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୨୧ Angel ୨୧

pairing: Hermione Granger ♡︎ GN!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡, not a happy ending :(, mentions of blood, dead bodies, throwing up (but no one actually does, grief

summary: ʚ Hermione and y/n’s last moments during the war ɞ

words: 1662

AN: the fucking angst, so I will probs post a fluffy-er story soon bc this is really fucking sad :) I just watched ballet shoes so expect to see something like that heh. also this switched pov’s half way through just ignore that please <3

⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈

I couldn't help but fall in love. You were perfect, I mean, in every way. The way the sun lit up your skin, your smile, your laugh, the way you listened to me, and my long rants. You listened no matter how much it killed you. You were perfect, nothing less and nothing more. The world never deserved you.

And of course you were taken much too soon...

The tears trailed down my face, my mouth hanging open slightly. The blood and sweat of my adventure clinging to my skin and clothes. I turned to see you running at me. I fell into your arms. I finally felt safe, for the first time in a very long time. You took your hands from around me, and moved them to the sides of my head, holding my face. "Hermione I love you, more than life itself I want to never leave you ok? Please, marry me?" With the clash and clatter of the war going on I almost didn't hear you.

"We're gonna grow old together... in a small little cottage, with about a half a dozen flowers and books." You let out a small laugh trying not to cry more, your eyes already flooding, threatening to spill on your perfect face, "T- tea every sunday. Cute picnics in the sun surrounded by flowers. The golden sun illuminates them all, just like you want! I promise when this is all over I will make that happen for you... I love you, Hermione granger." You spoke, crying more than I have ever seen. Your eyes searched for mine, smiling softly.

"Doesn't that sound nice?" Your voice snapping me out of my small day dream. For a moment, just a moment I pictured what you described. It sounded perfect, but I don’t care where I was as long as I was with you.

"Yes of course y/n please don't leave me... I couldn't handle it if you died." I spoke my voice whining, the tears starting to float again.

"I love you so much angel," you whisper to me. I can’t do anything except freeze in place as you place a kiss on my lips. I can’t feel you.

Looking back now I want nothing more than to kiss you back… but at the moment my limbs were too heavy. I couldn’t move, I couldn't think I just wanted to give up. I haven’t done that in my whole life. Giving up is not in my blood.

But my eyes felt so tired and I wanted to give in. I knew I couldn’t and I wouldn’t, but the desire to slip into sleep and never wake again was strong. “I love you too y/n.” I manage to whisper against your lips.

Those lips I have kissed countless times, angry kisses when all I wanted was to stop fighting, sad kisses that often mixed with tears, happy kisses when our mouths collided with such joy I could barely contain myself.

Your hands left my face, I couldn’t feel you anymore. Something bad was going to happen and I knew it. I start to cry again. This time which seems like for no reason but I know something is going to happen to you. I can’t lose you but I can’t move.

My fear has frozen me, I am at mercy with the war and it will tear me down into nothing. I would do it again and again if it meant they were safe.

But they aren't safe, and I need to save them. I have saved them many times before as they have done for me. I have helped them fight those demons that plague their mind. The demons that make sad tears fall from their eyes. I have saved them from the sea that is sorrow that begged to pull them under.

The time marks have been scratched into their skin from them or others. I have ripped the weapon away and kissed their scars until they feel better. And I would do it again and again over and over again until they were 100% happy and safe.

They are my entire world and I am sitting here letting them fight; letting the love of my life slip away from my fingers.

I need to save them.

I feel a rush of cold air lift through me. I don’t know what it was but I found myself walking in the direction I saw them go in. Amazingly, I went unharmed. However, I couldn’t find them.

I needed to. I felt air leave my lungs. Where were they? They couldn’t have gone that far? I only stood there for a second. I found Ron, he was staring off into space, much like me a few minutes ago.

“Ron! Have you seen y/n? I need to find them.” I say urgently, I was getting excited again, happy. I was going to find you and say yes, yes I wanted to marry you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. In our little cottage.

“Ron!” I said again. He didn’t seem to have heard me the first time, he had tears in his eyes. I bet most do, so many souls lost and for what? for destruction? Chaos?

“Hermione…” he whispered, I was getting a tad impatient, I really needed to find them. “y/n… they’re-“ he cuts himself off. “They are what? Do you know where they are? I need to answer their question.” I say crossing my arms. This was starting to get on my nerves.

He sighs looking at me and he grabs my arm. “Ron what are you doing? I need to find y/n.” I say as he leads me to a hall of the castle.

“I know Hermione…” he says his head down. Maybe he was taking me to y/n. He was acting a bit funny, but everyone processes grief in different ways.

After a minute he led me to a broken down hallway. But I can see them! I see y/n! “Oh thank merlin love! I thought I had lost you!” I breathe out looking at them. And they were beautiful, they were laying down on the rubbish. Couldn’t have been comfortable but hey, this was war everyone needed to take a break every once and a while.

I hear Ron let out a deep sad sigh. I wonder what he was upset about? No time to bother with him right now I needed to be with my love. I walked over to them, brushing my hand against their cheek. “Oh you're a bit tattered up dear…” I mumble brushing the dirt off of their face. They seem to be a bit less dirty than last time… odd.

Maybe they finally took my advice and cleaned up their messes.

“Mione…” Ron whispers, his voice cracking. I needed to get them to a hospital… to help them. They were probably very tired and needed medical help. I had read loads of medical books written by wizards but my knowledge only went so far I couldn’t help them forever.

“Hermione please stop.” Ron begs behind me. I don't know what he means by stop? I was trying to care for my partner and he kept ruining it! I turned back to them. Their face sat still, probably too tired to talk. “Oh sweetheart let's get you somewhere more comfortable,” I mumble trying to lift them, gently grabbing their arm and shoulder to help them up.

Before they could start standing I heard Ron’s feet shuffle. “Hermione please stop it, they are gone.” he says firmly, a slightly disgusted face mixed with pain and tears streamed down his face.

“No they- no they aren’t.” Hermione whispered looking at Ron. They weren’t gone… maybe a tad broken but gone? That was taking it too far. I just needed to get them to hospital where their aches can be dealt with.

“Hermione, yes they are! I took you here to show you becuase I couldn’t say it out loud when I should have, Hermione they are fucking dead. You are touching a dead corpse like it’s alive and now you have their blood all over your hands.” he whispers.

I looked down at my hands, noticing them covered in red blood. “No-“ I whisper. I couldn’t look at them. I couldn’t not if they were hurt worse than I thought.

“Yes Mione please-“ Ron starts approaching me again.

“You are lying! I just told you they aren’t gone! They are right here! We are going to get married and live together.” I whine, shaking my head.

“Hermione, I found them like this- they aren't here any more.” Ron says, sighing. “Mione, please look at them, their lips are cold. You said you talked to them?” Ron tried to keep going but his mouth was dry.

His friend was gone, forever. He couldn’t stomach it. It felt like he could throw up at any moment.

Hermione was in complete denial, you weren’t dead. She turned to look at you and that’s when she saw it. Your lips were cold, your eyes empty. Hermione let out a gasp as her eyes trailed down to the rest of you. Blood covered your figure.

“No.” she whispered. She looked at her hands, she instinctively brought her hands to her mouth. Only to feel something wet. She slowly brings her hands back knowing what she was going to see. Her hands were covered in blood.

She lets out a sob. A broken sob. She lets her body fall onto yours, her arms wrapped around your lifeless body. Her screams were drowned into the war, nothing but the sorrows of a freiburg child. Because that’s all she was. That all any of you were. Children brought up to fight a war, under the disguise of peace. You died protecting her. You died protecting everyone, and Hermione couldn’t be more proud of you.

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beta reader: @supercorpdanbeau

#hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #hermione granger x you #hermione granger x reader angst #hermione granger x reader

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emotionallyits2009 · 3 years

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deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :)

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010.

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on.

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

#fic #deancas #destiel

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pyreo · 3 years

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deltarune megapost

I wanted to make a Deltarune post about the lore and the things that aren’t obvious. And once I do that I wanna focus on why Mettaton is incredibly important to this setting

And also why he poses a problem

Why did Toriel and Asgore get divorced?

Without the setting of Undertale, Asgore and Toriel’s marriage still broke up after they had Asriel. There needs to be a reason though. In UT it was Asgore’s ‘worst of both worlds’ decision regarding killing anybody that fell from the human world, including children. We saw how close they were before this happened. Only something deep and serious caused that rift. In Deltarune, what on earth did Asgore do?

What happened to Dess?

Mentioned a handful of times by Noelle, Dess was her older sister and is mentioned In Undertale.... in that Xbox exclusing casino thing. The way Noelle talks about her, the conspicuous way Noelle gets locked out of her big house - it implies Dess is gone or deceased. Berdly recalls a spelling bee when he and Noelle were younger where she, despite being smarter than him, misspelled ‘December’, allowing him to win.

In the two-player spelling puzzle, it also spells out ‘December’ as Noelle recalls the past and her silhouette regresses to a child while she does so. Being distracted by her sister’s disappearance, rather than pure shyness, could account for her misspelling her name on stage, and it clearly left a big psychological mark for her to have this visual regression in the Dark World.

However, there’s a graveyard in Hometown with no Dess. I heard another theory that she has been missing for years, because where each character’s personal room is made by Queen to reflect their tastes via their search results, Noelle has a calendar where every day is December 25th. This could imply that Noelle continually searches the internet for ‘December Holiday’, her sister’s name, to see if there are clues to her disappearance, but of course the only result you would get is the date of Christmas.

Who is the Knight?

It’s now implied to be Kris, who has been forcibly removing the player’s influence to act on their own. By all accounts the Knight is the game’s main antagonist. Spade King and Queen both mention the Knight as someone who influenced their position - they brought Spade King to absolute power, and showed Queen that creation of new worlds was possible.

We’re led to believe that Kris was doing this, because they’ve been acting outside of the player’s control. Eating the entire pie between chapter 1 and 2 might have been a red herring to cover that they also went to the library and used that knife to slash open a dark fountain there.

However. This has issues. How would they even manage to shuffle slowly all the way to the library and get in the computer lab? The Knight is also the one creating the hidden bosses. They talked to Jevil until he realised he was in a game and he lost his mind; they ruined Spamton’s life by elevating him to success and then crushing him. Whatever the Knight is doing seems to be deliberately planned with key players in mind.

Kris opening the fountain at home at the end of ch.2 can be explained in that you just figured out in Cyber World that anyone determined enough can do this, and so, Kris decided to. So a better question might even be...

What does Kris want?

We have no idea. They are capable of removing the SOUL, ‘us’, temporarily, and putting things in motion we cannot influence. But they also keep putting us back in control afterward. This is hinted at right when ch.2 starts, where if you inspect the cage in Kris’s bedroom they threw us into, the description says it’s inescapable. Meaning Kris came back and took us out, willingly.

They allow us to pilot them through the game. Why? Because they cannot live without the SOUL for long for some reason? Because they’re bad at bullet hell? Why did they slash Toriel’s tyres before opening the fountain, making sure nobody could drive away?? Why did they specifically open the door?

You can find out details about Kris through the creepy way you interact with the townsfolk, who think you are Kris. They play the piano at the hospital waiting room - better than you. They used to go to church just to get the special church juice. It’s all normal, relatable things, not like someone who’s trying to plunge the world into darkness. Judging by their search history portrayed in their Queen’s castle room, they really want to see their brother again. However the castle has a room based on Asriel’s search history too, and Kris (not you) closes their eyes and won’t look at it.

What is Ralsei?

His name is an anagram of Asriel. Is he an extension of Asriel? The slightly flirtier dialogue in ch.2 would point to no. Is he an extension of Kris themselves, given the link between Kris’s childhood habit of wearing a headband with red horns on it, to pretend to be a monster like their family?

Ralsei knows exactly where the Dark World in the school is located, and unlike regular Darkners, knows the world is folded up inside the ‘real world’. There’s a certain whiplash to Ralsei telling you to hop out of his reality into yours and go down the hallway to retrieve all the board game items.

How does he jump from one Dark World to another, without assistance? How does he not get petrified like Lancer and Rouxls? Is this a power level thing because he’s a prince or something else? We definitely do not know enough about Ralsei.

He also says this incredibly suspicious thing after you spare Spamton NEO. Susie was also curious but accepts that maybe it ‘didn’t mean anything’, which is a sure tell that these optional bosses do mean something.

Someone is orchestrating what’s happening, opening fountains, manipulating the rulers, and influencing NPCs to become the optional bosses. Why? I suspect Ralsei for both knowing too much, and pretending something doesn’t matter when it clearly does. Until Asriel actually comes home from college I’m going to suspect he’s involved in this too.

How much does Seam know?

Seam on the other hand knows a lot about what’s going on but is openly withholding information while helping you. He’s nihilistic. He says things like:

One day soon... You too, will begin to realize the futility of your actions. Ha ha ha... At that time, feel free to come back here. I'll make you tea... And we can toast... to the end of the world!

Either this ‘end of the world’ is a reference to The Roaring, where opening too many dark fountains dooms the Dark World and the real one... or, I can’t get out of my head the idea that Deltarune takes place in a fake, or weird reconstruction of Undertale where things don’t match up, and eventually it will have to disappear. After all, powers of determination and creating and manipulating universes are Undertale’s basic bread and butter. How can we look at an Alternate Universe containing the characters we already know and not suspect that? Seam also uses Gaster’s key words, ‘darker, yet darker’, seemingly to clue us in that he’s not off track here.

Why haven’t we seen Papyrus?

This is a bright neon flashing ‘something’s not right’ sign. It’s not like Papyrus’s voice actor was too busy or anything. His absence is noticable and for a reason. Nice of Sans to promise we could meet him despite being aware we’re piloting a child’s body around, though, even if he didn’t follow through.

What locations in town could be used for dark fountains in the next 4 chapters?

If the sequence continues, we have chapter 1 in the school games room, chapter 2 in a computer lab, and chapter 3 in front of Kris’s television, where the aesthetic of each setting influences the world, characters, and enemies in the Dark World created there. Future possibilities include the church, the hospital, sans’s grocery store, Noelle’s house, and the closed bunker.

What the hell’s in the closed bunker

This one’s too obvious, honestly. I think it’ll open for no reason in chapter 7 and a little white dog will bounce out and steal one of your key items and nothing else happens.

Why does Asgore have these

Unlike the bunker feeling like a joke teaser, I gotta believe this is foreshadowing something weird. For example, what does opening a dark fountain in here with the seven flowers do? Does it just take you into Undertale?

Each chapter will have a hidden boss with a ‘soul mode’ from Undertale

Chapter 1 let you stay red, but I think each subsequent chapter is going to change your soul mode to one of the seven colours and design the encounter around that. Purple, yellow, green and blue were used in Undertale, leaving the light blue and orange modes yet to be revealed.

How does Spamton emulate Mettaton Neo’s name, body, and incorporate his battle theme, and the ‘Dummy!’ theme, with no actual connection between them ingame?

This is a really fun one that’s explained over in this post here. Swatch is the Dark World creation from the paint program on the library computers, so he’s able to explain that a Lightner made the robot body decaying in the castle basement that way.

Mettaton went to the library and drew his ideal form, Mettaton NEO, in MS Paint, and the Dark World formed that into a puppet body which Spamton was able to hijack temporarily. So by doing that Spamton was able to channel Mettaton’s appearance, attacks, music, and SOUL mode for the fight.

This might mean that the future hidden bosses, each with their own SOUL mode, might be based on the associated character for that mode (Muffet, Undyne, and Sans or Papyrus), and the boss will take on some aspect of them from their world to leech their fight mechanics.

The Problem With Mettaton

We don’t exactly know what Deltarune is about. It’s an alternate universe where the characters from Undertale already live on the surface, have completely normal lives, but diverge from the storyline of Undertale and, crucially, have not lived through the changes Frisk brought to their lives.

Remember how Undertale had a dozen different ending routes depending on who you befriended? The constant reinforcement in Undertale was that your choices mattered. Through Frisk, you chose to bring Alphys closure about her mistakes, you chose to befriend papyrus instead of attacking him, you chose to help Alphys and Undyne realise their feelings for each other and it’s only doing that that leads to the golden ending and escape to the surface.

Deltarune is the opposite, your choices do not matter. The only thing you can do to force the route of the game to change is to force Noelle into a No Mercy run, which is indirect, and also, a total desperation to mess with an otherwise set course. This version of the characters have not been helped by Frisk - Undyne and Alphys are not together, Papyrus has no friends, Asgore cannot get over himself, and they’re clearly the worse for it, but potentially, you COULD still do these things. In fact it’s hinted that you already are.

But there’s Mettaton.

He’s still a ghost and does not leave his house. In Frisk’s world, Gaster deleted himself, promoting Alphys to royal scientist by bluffing with Mettaton, and she then build him his ideal body. In Kris’s world... Alphys is a school teacher. There’s no barrier to break, no reason to experiment on souls, no Flowey mistake, and no body for Mettaton.

It was sad in Ch.1, but now with the Spamton NEO fight in ch.2, it’s unmissable. Mettaton wants that body and he cannot get it. Alphys in this universe is not going to leave her teaching job and suddenly be able to build a robot. Mettaton is just... screwed out of his happy ending and cannot get it.

So what resolution could this have? If it wasn’t for Mettaton I might believe in the vaildity of Deltarune and Hometown. But. How can you doom this character? If Undertale was the only way Mettaton could be befriended, then Undertale is Primary Universe A and Seam is right - the world of Deltarune is doomed as some kind of aberration. It all relies on how this gets explained in the future, but the core mystery of Deltarune is how exactly this universe intersects with Undertale and whether one is an offshoot of the other. How the Dark World links into that is another complication. But even as we get more fun characters and neat stuff in the Dark Worlds, let’s not forget we have absolutely no idea why Undertale’s characters are living here with no mention of underground or why there are no other humans beside Kris.

#undertale #deltarune #welcome to my giant essay post

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poisonedapples · 4 years

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Prologue: Roman’s Fluffy Helper

Summary: Roman’s service dog Princess helps him with a lot of things. She gets his meds, helps him through panic attacks, and helps him be able to leave the house. What Roman didn’t expect was for her to help him make friends.

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, background familial Creativitwins

Warnings: Anxiety, food, mentions of panic attacks (though no one has one), mentions of epilepsy, swearing, some jokes about murder and death.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: Something small I wrote in two days for the Service Dog AU, created because of this post I made. If you’re interested, you can always find some more stuff about this AU in the “service dog au” tag!

Virgil shared a few classes with Roman Sanders.

He was in his first two periods, and the only student (other than Patton) that Virgil actually took note of being in his class. Though, that was because it’s almost impossible to not notice him.

Roman was a really quiet kid, one that teachers hardly ever called on and was always excused from doing presentations (lucky bastard). Virgil had only heard him talk a handful of times, and he wasn’t exactly popular either. The thing that really made Roman stand out, however, was the giant golden retriever with a service dog vest that followed him everywhere.

He’d seen dozens of kids go up to him asking to pet his dog, met with a lot of refusal and Roman leaving the class if it got bad enough. Usually he would only sit at his desk, quietly doing his work while his dog curled around his feet and didn’t make a scene. If Virgil wasn’t a loner himself, he’d go up to Roman and maybe strike a conversation. But the guy always seemed to be calm when he was alone, and Virgil sucked at starting conversations, so they never actually talked.

It was only a month into school when Virgil had his first conversation with him. And it was absolutely not his intention.

Virgil was checking his phone at his designated lunch spot when Patton slammed his lunchbox on the table. “Virgil!”

“...Yeah?”

“There’s a cute little puppy over there!” Patton pointed to the other side of the lunchroom, but Virgil couldn’t see what he was talking about from this distance. How far do those damn glasses make you see? “I wanna pet the good boy so bad!”

Virgil kept looking where Patton was pointing. “Is it the drug dog again?”

“No, it’s a different one!” Patton seemed to be vibrating with excitement where he was standing, jumping up and down with the biggest grin on his face. He seemed to be fighting a fruitless internal battle before he loudly announced “I’m gonna go pet the puppy so much!”

The moment Virgil realized what was happening was almost in slow motion.

First, he saw a secluded table away from all the others, right behind the table Virgil thought Patton was pointing to. There, he saw Roman Sanders eating his lunch, his service dog under the table just like how it was during class. Patton ran across the lunchroom to go to the secluded table, dodging any kids that got in his way. Virgil realized in horror that Roman wouldn’t be able to stop Patton before he dived under the table just to pet a dog. And doing so could fucking kill Roman.

Virgil sprung up from his seat and shoved everyone out of his way to get to Patton in time, no matter how many bitchy remarks the other students made. Roman didn’t have time to look up and notice Patton approaching before Virgil pounced on his friend, nearly toppling them both to the ground with the force of him smacking himself into Patton. The security guards looked at them both as if preparing to break up a fight, but looked away when it only seemed to be two guys being kids.

Roman may not have noticed the bubbly kid charging at him before, but he certainly did now, looking up to see Virgil and Patton basically wrestling each other.

“Patton, don’t pet the dog!” Virgil yelled.

“Awwwww, but why not!?”

“It’s a service dog, you can’t distract a service dog or you could literally kill someone!”

Patton relaxed in Virgil’s grasp, “...Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Uh…” Virgil and Patton both looked at the poor kid that almost got attacked, “Do you...need something? Or…?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Your dog is so cute! What’s his name?”

Roman smiled shakily to hide his flinch. “Her name is Princess.”

“Princess? I love it! What breed is she?”

“Golden retriever…?”

“She’s such a good girl! I love her, she’s adorable!”

“Uh, thank you.”

Virgil let go of Patton, but still kept a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t scare the poor dude, Pat.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just really like dogs, and Princess is so cute and fluffy! I have two dogs of my own, but they’re a lot smaller, and I’d have a bunch of cats too if I wasn’t allergic.”

Roman’s voice gained a little more confidence. “Princess is the only dog in my house. My brother has a bearded dragon, though.”

“A bearded dragon sounds awesome! I don’t know much about reptiles though, and I’m always scared to hurt them because they’re so tiny. They’re super cute though!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, he really likes animals. I’m Virgil, and this is Patton.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that! I’m Patton, do you how do?”

Roman laughed, but didn’t mention the reference. “Roman.”

“You’re in my first two classes, aren’t you?” Virgil asked, “With Mrs. Jones and Mr. White?”

He nodded. “...Didn’t you like...yell at Mrs. Jones a couple days ago over assignments?”

“She’s a bitch and deserves to know it. Who the fuck assigns three giant-ass chemistry packets due in three days?”

Patton waved his finger at Virgil disapprovingly. “Now Virge, just because the homework they give is ridiculous doesn’t mean you get to cuss out a teacher.”

“I didn’t say I cussed her out.”

“I know you, Virgil.”

“...The detention was worth it and I’m not sorry.”

Roman laughed again, and Patton smiled so wide that Virgil thought he would start jumping through the roof. “Hey Roman, can me and Virgil sit with you? I’d love to keep talking!”

Virgil noticed Roman’s leg begin to bounce violently. “Uh, sure…”

“Great! I’ll get our lunches!”

“Do you have any, like...allergies, Roman?” Virgil asked. Anything I might have in my lunch that could accidentally kill you? I don’t wanna kill you. Patton already almost did that. Let’s not give a second close call.

Roman shook his head, so Patton walked back to their previous spot to get their lunches. Virgil took a seat directly across from Roman, and once he did, Princess rose up from her place at his feet and lied across his lap. Roman started petting her with both hands, and Virgil felt a sense of panic rise in him. Please don’t fucking die. “You okay dude?”

Roman nodded, but Virgil pushed just in case. “Do I need to get like...a teacher? Or the nurse?”

Roman shook his head, then took a couple deep breaths in and continued to pet Princess’ fur. Virgil kept watching him carefully just in case, but it felt awkward sitting at the table with no conversation or food to focus on. Instead, Virgil mindlessly searched through Tumblr for the thirty seconds Patton was gone, placing his own lunchbox and Virgil’s tray on the table with a smile.

Virgil put down his phone and instead started eating some of his food, but Roman didn’t talk for a while. Princess still had her head on his lap with his hands combing through her fur, and the more she laid on him, the more Virgil began to worry. Why is she on him?

Well...only one way to find out. “So, Roman…”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “Yes?”

“What kind of service dog is Princess? What does she help with?”

Roman turned his attention back to Princess, but he still smiled a little, so Virgil considered it a slight win. “She’s a psychiatric service dog. She does a very good job of helping with my anxiety.”

“Oh, mood.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You...have a service dog?”

Virgil’s face somehow became more pale than it already was. “Uh, no...I mean, like, I have anxiety too. Obviously not as bad as to have a service dog, but like...solidarity.”

Virgil took Roman’s second smile as an even bigger win. “Solidarity, I suppose.”

“How long have you had Princess?” Patton asked.

“About two years, I think. She was in training for a year, but she’s been my full-time service dog for this past year. I had another dog before her, but he’s retired now.”

Patton let out a loud horrified and upset gasp, “The poor baby! I’m so sorry!”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Not like that, no! Simba’s still alive, he just isn’t a service dog anymore! He keeps my grandparents company at their house.”

“Oh, good! He sounds like such a sweet puppy!”

“He is. I visit him sometimes, and he’s gotten very lazy, but he still jumps around and gets excited when he sees me.”

Patton covered his mouth with his hands excitedly. “Do you have a picture of the good boy, by any chance?”

Roman nodded and took out his phone. After a bit of searching, he tapped on a photo to show it to Patton and Virgil, causing Patton to gasp and squeal again. “Oh my goodness I love him! He’s such a good little puppy!”

“I would hardly call him a puppy anymore.”

“He’s an amazing puppy.”

“Just let it happen, dude. Pat insists every dog is a puppy.”

“They’re all babies!”

Roman smiled at the two bickering over his old dog, wondering if he should butt in with a witty quip of his own when Princess scooted off of his lap and back onto the floor. He definitely felt better now. Not completely calm, but nothing panic attack worthy. Right at the second he decided not to push his luck (saying what was actually on his mind was always harder around strangers, and he had just calmed down), the bell to signify the end of lunch buzzed through the entire school. Virgil stepped up to throw his tray away and Patton packed up his containers in his lunch box as Roman did the same.

“It was nice meeting you, Roman!” Patton exclaimed, holding out his hand for Roman to shake, which he did extremely stiffly and pulled away after only a second. Patton smiled anyway and didn’t seem to mind.

When Roman stood up to head out, Virgil came back and stood alongside Patton. “What class do you have after this?” He asked.

“Oh, uh...I actually go home after lunch. I do the rest of my classes online.”

“Damn, I wanted to bother you while you walked to class so I could skip gym.”

“Virgil, go to class!”

“It’s fucking gym, he doesn’t give a shit. I’m passing and that’s all that matters.”

Patton sighed but didn’t push it. It seemed he’d gotten used to it after this long. “Well, hopefully we run into you tomorrow, Roman.”

“Uh, actually…” The two looked at Roman and waited for him to speak. Princess pawed on his leg to warn him he was getting too worked up, but Roman ignored it this time. Definitely not his smartest idea. You can do it. Just say it. “...If you two wanna sit next to me, maybe, I wouldn’t really, uh...mind…”

Patton smiled, soft and reassuring. “We’d love that. See you at lunch, then?”

Oh hell yeah! “Yeah...see you tomorrow.”

Virgil walked ahead and waved a hand at Roman from behind. “See ya.”

“See ya, Roman!”

With that, Roman was left alone again, but this time he didn’t necessarily mind. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or a sign of an attack, but he still considered it a win. No more sitting alone at lunch.

Roman and Princess walked through the crowd to exit the building through the main office. When he got into his car with Princess in the passenger seat, he took a minute to calm down before he started driving down the road. Princess stepped over to the driver’s side to comfort him one more time today, practically sitting on his lap and letting Roman comb his hands through her hair. The ball in his chest slowly grew smaller as his breaths became easier to take, though his arms still felt weak as they shook.

But yet, this kind of anxiety was worth it. Just this once.

When Roman did start driving, pushing Princess back to her side and taking off, he had a smile on his face the whole time.

***

“Yo, bitch!”

Roman groaned at the sound of his brother coming through the front door. “What!?”

There was no verbal response, but Roman heard the footsteps coming up the stairs before his bedroom door swung open. Remus posed dramatically in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Just finishing up some online stuff, why?”

“Who was Mr. Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and his friend Fluttershy?”

“...You mean the kids with me at lunch?”

“That’s the bitch.”

“Well, their names are Virgil and Patton, not whatever the hell you just said.”

“In my defense, of course the Raven Way guy is fucking Virgil.”

“What are you even talking about!?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Remus walked over to Roman’s place at his desk and threw his arms around him. Roman scoffed, but didn’t protest. “But why were they sitting with you? Do I have to commit murder? I know a guy.”

Roman tried his damn hardest not to smile. “Patton wanted to know about Princess, so we just...talked. It was actually quite nice. I even invited them to sit with me again tomorrow.”

“Roman Sanders? Making friends? Surely, you jest!”

“Says the guy who only has had one friend his entire life.”

“Janus is my ride or die and if you dare to insult him again, I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.”

“You do that. Now get out, I’m working and you smell awful.”

Remus backed away with a gleeful smile on his face. “I rolled around in a giant puddle of mud!”

“Take a damn bath!”

Remus was out the door with a large slam before Roman could continue to argue. “I can’t hear you! But remember, if you need to bury a body, tell them you know a guy!”

Roman rolled his eyes and basked in the sudden silence. Princess looked up at him from his bed, and he couldn’t resist taking a small break to pet her. “He’s so weird, Princess.”

Although Princess couldn’t agree with her mouth, she absolutely did with her eyes.

***

A week had passed since Patton and Virgil started sitting with Roman at lunch. It had become his favorite part of the school day for more than just the ability to go home. He had friends. He was talking to people who he not only enjoyed talking to, but people who seemed to enjoy talking with him. Some people would consider only two friends too little, but Roman considered it the biggest of wins.

(His mom also seemed shocked but proud of him for socializing with people, so it was an even more amazing win than before now.)

Roman was perfectly content with his two friends. So long as he kept them, he would be more than fine. Sometimes his anxiety would act up and tell him that they’re only gonna leave him again, but he tried not to think about it. For right now, they were his friends. It was all that mattered.

What he didn’t expect was for him to get a third friend.

It was his fourth period class, right before his lunch where he was able to eat and have a good time with some company. He’d noticed the new kid that joined the school two weeks ago, but of course he never talked to him. He acknowledged his presence when the teacher introduced him, but that was it.

He was doing his math work when the new kid sat next to him. At first, Roman paid him no mind. Maybe he was getting distracted by the other students and wanted a more quiet place to work, or he liked how Roman’s table had almost no one sitting at it. It wasn’t until the kid spoke up that Roman gave him attention.

“Forgive me if this is too personal of a question, but how exactly did you train your service dog?”

Roman looked over at the kid. Oh yeah, hi, my name is Roman, what’s yours? “Oh, uh...some things I had to hire a personal trainer for, but I did some of the training on my own…”

“How long does it take to train a service dog?”

“Usually about six months, I guess...but it took me a year to make double sure she was ready.”

“Is she a medical alert dog?”

Why all the questions? “No, a psychiatric one.”

“Ah. I’m aware of psychiatric service dogs, but I have a little more knowledge when it comes to medical alert and seizure response dogs. However, I’ve never actually met someone who has a service dog. I’ve only done my own research out of curiosity, especially with my own disability.”

Roman got the courage to look up from his work at that. The kid had nerdy, square glasses over his eyes and straight black hair shifted to the right side of his face. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even fall yet and they lived in Florida, he still wore a purple hoodie that almost completely engulfed his body. The hoodie read I don’t look sick? You don’t look stupid! in white and purple letters, and on his wrist, a silicone band saying Alert! Epilepsy with a red medical symbol on both sides of the words.

Roman almost said Oh aloud. He’s not trying to be rude. He’s probably trying to find someone like him, especially if he’s new. Come on, Roman, be polite! And don’t freak out for once! “...You do have quite the epilepsy hoodie there.”

The kid looked down at his hoodie and smiled slightly. “Yes, well...it encompassed my kind of humor, and I am rather intolerant to the cold. Under this I have a Doctor Who shirt.”

“I, uh...don’t have any service dog shirts, but Princess has a lot of patches.”

“Is it alright if I look?”

“Sure, just...don’t pet her or anything.”

The kid waved it off. “Don’t worry, I know better than to get her attention.” He ducked under the table carefully, like any sudden movement would alarm Princess. He rose back up after a few seconds and gave his attention back to Roman. “She has a lot of Disney-themed patches. Where did you get them?”

Roman’s heart started beating faster. “...I actually, kinda, um...I made those ones myself.”

“You did a good job with them. They’re very intricate.”

“Thanks…”

“Oh! I apologize, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Logan.”

Roman gave him a nervous smile. “Roman.”

The bell rang, and everyone in the class started to pack up their stuff. Roman put his unfinished paper in his homework folder and stuffed it in his backpack while Logan did the same. When they both stood up, Logan addressed him one last time. “I have to go to lunch, but I hope we can talk another day.”

Roman felt that same desire come up in his throat. The desire to ask, to say something he usually would never consider asking. He couldn’t stand speaking to people, especially acquaintances, but Logan had a different energy to him. He was calmer, understanding, and a lot easier to handle than someone like Patton. Not to mention that his therapist did mention he can only get better if he pushes himself…

Princess didn’t alert Roman of a possible panic attack, so he considered that some kind of improvement. “Actually, Logan?”

“Yes?”

Come on. Do it. Say it. Three, two, one… “...Would you, uh...maybe wanna sit with me and some of my friends? Today?”

Logan’s face didn’t give him any hints to his emotions. “I would appreciate that.”

“I can...show you where it is, if you want?”

“Sure. I’d be happy for you to show me.”

The two walked out of the classroom, Roman and Princess in front of Logan to lead the way to the table. The two had a moment to situate themselves before Patton and Virgil came over, and with such a small table, Roman felt like the place was all the more crowded now. All the more welcoming.

Admittedly, a million times better than always sitting alone. He saw Remus staring from another table with those mischievous eyes, but he didn’t pay him any mind. When they were home alone, then he could bug him about it.

As always, right underneath his feet, Princess was curled into her ball, ready for any signs to jump into action. Instead, Roman looked at her under the table while the others went to get food. Apparently, he thought, you are a very good conversation starter when I need it.

“Good girl.” He whispered, although Princess didn’t seem to comprehend that he was talking to her. Instead, Roman took a mental note to give her a treat when they got home.

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shipmistress9 · 3 years

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FTLOAP: Chapter 50: Just One Chance, Just One Breath

For The Love Of A Princess Masterpost

Alpha-reader: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory (If you want me to add you to this list, just let me know. ^^)

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If you want to leave a tip you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊

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AN:

! 3 YEARS! !

Today (April 3rd), it's been three years since I posted the prologue to this story. Meeting this anniversary served as a great deadline for me to finally finish editing this chapter.

Also, I can't believe it's really been that long! I never planned for this story to grow so big or to only write so little for it. But I'm going to power through, I still love this story very much.

I want to apologise it again took so long. January and February were bad for me, mentally, and I barely had enough energy to get through the day, let alone do just about anything in addition. Even the 'short' one-shots I posted in this time took me weeks to write instead of the usual one or two days. And I can't predict how long the next update might take, life is just chaos these days.

Now to this chapter. Finally, things are happening! I'm very excited about this chapter and the following event, and about your reactions, too.

This chapter's title comes from the song Far Away by Nickleback. It's one of my favourite songs all around, and the sentiment of this one quote felt very appropriate for this chapter.

. o O o .

There was a constant drizzle coming from the grey sky above them. It made Hiccup wish he was already wearing his warm travelling coat instead of the colourful attire that marked him as Eret’s squire so he could pull it tighter around himself. He couldn’t concentrate. Right at this moment, the King was giving his opening speech for the Dragon Hunt, with them all being packed and ready to get going any minute now. He should listen, should pay attention, if not for any important information then at least out of respect.

But no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t hear a single word; his heart was beating in his throat and drowned out every other sound. His eyes kept shifting away from the King too, constantly moving a bit to the left to where Astrid stood a step behind her father and beneath a hastily built canopy. As if she was too delicate to be subjected to the weather. She wore her mask of a pleasant smile, her eyes gliding around slowly, resting nowhere.

Gods, he hadn’t even left yet, but he missed her already! They hadn’t really talked since their saying goodbye in Eret’s suite two days ago. Yesterday had been busy with the journey to Oramond—which Astrid had been made to spend in a carriage—and she’d taken all her meals with Eret, Dagur, and their fathers. Frigga, they’d barely even seen each other, and he’d missed her so much. Could he really leave and endure several days without her? It felt so wrong.

But once again not being able to interact with her in over a day had reminded him of just how much he needed her in his life. It reminded him of why he had to follow through with their plan. They only had this one chance to ensure their future by following the path the Gods had wanted him to take, by doing what came naturally to him. He could do this! He had to…

Eventually, the King ended his speech with a reminder of the glory and the new life that was waiting for the winner—as if he needed that reminder. Then he, Eret, Dagur, and their small group of guards rode through the crowd to set out as the first participants. They all turned their heads as they rode past the King and the group around him. Silent nods were exchanged and to satisfy those watching, Eret even blew a kiss in Astrid’s direction. Her smile grew a little warmer, making Hiccup’s heart beat in his throat. Then her gaze glided on, over the rest of their group, and eventually, their eyes met. It lasted for less than one second before she looked away again, but to him, the emotions and the meaning in that brief exchange were tangible. Real, full of love and reassurance. The promise that they would soon be together again. It was a moment he would cherish, something to hold on to.

Then he took a last deep breath and turned away, toward the road ahead of them.

It felt like ripping out his heart.

. o O o .

Hiccup wasn’t sure whether to call it a lucky streak or just good preparation, but as everything worked out as planned, he was willing to go with either.

Both Eret and Dagur had been given a group of three guards from their fathers and a couple of pack horses. They rode hard—trying to bring as much distance between themselves and the other participants that would follow—and by noon, they reached their first stop.

It was a village of medium size. The people here obviously expected visitors, the hunt was no secret, after all, and it didn’t take long until the high lords and their entourage had gained rooms to stay in during the following days.

Hiccup spent an hour visibly busy with getting them settled in. He unpacked his and Eret’s things, arranged for them to get their food delivered to their rooms, and made sure that Cassie, Crusher, Squish, and the other horses were taken care of. But once he was sure that nobody paid him much attention anymore, he focussed on his main course again.

Back in the room he was supposed to share with Eret, he quickly changed his clothes; out of the flashy attire of a squire and into nondescript but practical travelling clothes made of wool and leather.

With his hand lingering on Astrid's key around his neck, he gave himself a moment to think of her. Now that there were actually dozens of miles between them, he felt their separation even more acutely. It felt as if something was tugging at him from the inside, urging him to get back to her, to hold her, to never let go. And a major part of him wanted nothing more than to give in to that urge, too. No matter how confident he was about this whole plan, Astrid had been right as well. Being apart from her was just wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed these thoughts and feelings aside. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Now, he had to concentrate on his plan; being with her had to wait until he was back. Until he’d killed a dragon and returned to become a count. Until he had the land and title necessary to ask for her hand. Until he was truly worthy of her. Oh, he couldn’t wait.

Feeling a little lighter, he reached for the bundles he hadn’t unpacked earlier. They contained all he needed for the Hunt, some weapons, a few emergency rations of food, and more practical equipment he needed for a couple of days in the wilderness. And, most importantly, the bola shooter.

He threw the bags over his shoulder, then reached for the last thing he needed, the cloak Astrid’s servants had provided him with. In itself, it was an ordinary cloak, black with a blue border. What made it special however was the badge and sigil that came with it, marking the wearer as an official royal courier. It would allow him to change horses whenever he needed and ensured that he got a bed and a meal as long as he travelled along the road. He even had a letter to top off his disguise, complete with a wax seal of House Jag’r. He just hoped that he wouldn’t need this and that Eret wouldn’t get into trouble for providing him with this false message.

He didn’t pause to say his farewell to his cousin. Too easily someone could overhear them, could stop him, or could pin his leaving without permission on Eret. He and Dagur already had done enough for him; he didn’t want to risk any further trouble.

Instead, he sneaked into the stables and readied the two pack horses Eret and Dagur had brought, then left without anyone paying him any attention.

Being on the road then was a relief. It meant another part of their plan had worked perfectly. Hiccup rode for another two hours before he changed the tired horses at the next way station. A part of him wished he could take a break as well, to eat and to warm up at a hearth. He’d missed out on the meal he’d ordered for Eret in that inn and the drizzling rain was wearing on his strength. But taking a break wasn’t possible, not if he wanted to stay ahead of everyone else and out of reach of whoever might or might not be following him. So instead, he just switched to the well-rested horses a helpful stablehand provided him with and, chewing on some dried meat from his travelling rations, continued on his way up north.

He again got remounts in the evening, then rode on until long past nightfall before he stopped at an inn for the night. But despite being tired to the bones, from the second day spent in the saddle and the cool drizzle having crept through all his clothes, sleep didn’t come easily to him. His mind couldn’t find rest and for a long while, he just kept shifting from one side to the other. His thoughts kept circling around the task that lay ahead of him, around the dull sense of someone possibly following him, and around Astrid.

Gods, he missed her so much. What wouldn’t he give to hold her in his arms now, to listen to her soft breathing and breathe in her mayweed scent? Trembling, he curled into a tight ball, his hand pressed to his chest, and took a few deep and calming breaths. She was always with him; he reminded himself. Within him, their bond was tangible, pulsing like a second heart. It was warm and reassuring and real. Nothing would ever come between them, not even distance…

And soon, he would be with her for real again, too. Just a few days…

. o O o .

On the second day of the Hunt, Hiccup’s lucky streak still seemed to go on. Or that was what he tried to tell himself, at least. He was still tired, even after some hours of rest, but after a quick but tasty and filling breakfast, he was back on the road in no time. And while the rain had kept on during the night, it had stopped by now. The sky was still cloudy and the air cool, but thanks to the trees and hills around them, the wind didn’t affect him too much.

Not once did he encounter other participants of the Hunt, not by chance and not someone who might be searching for him either. Apparently, he was safe from any followers, and all Astrid’s worries had been for nothing.

Around noon, he reached another village. Although, it wasn’t even that, really, mostly a way station and a few additional buildings around it. But it was nonetheless an important place as it was the last station of his journey before he would have to leave the road and head into the swamplands.

“Now, things are getting serious,” he murmured to himself, then chuckled. Talking to himself had been a habit he’d picked up during his years of travelling on his own, to not feel quite as lonely. Almost a year had passed since then, but apparently, old habits died hard.

Pressing his legs against the horse’s sides, he rode toward what had to be the stables. “Hello?” he called, looking around for someone to take over his tired horses.

There was a grunt followed by heavy footsteps, then a burly man in a brown leather vest and with a bald head came into sight. “Oi, stranger.” He looked Hiccup over, his eyes pausing on the badge on Hiccup's cloak. “A messenger, eh? We don't see many of you around here. I’m Owen. You need horses, boy?”

Hiccup nodded, but then directly shook his head. “I do. But before I ride on... Do you have a tavern around here? Somewhere where I can get something to eat?”

“No tavern,” Owen said, but nodded toward a building on the other side of the road. “But you can get food in the main building over there. There’s not much to choose from, but my wife makes a fine stew. Just perfect for this weather.” He threw a glance past Hiccup and up into the grey sky and grimaced. “I’ll have your fresh horses ready when you need them.”

With a grateful smile, Hiccup took his bags from the horses’ backs and wandered over toward the other building. He couldn’t agree more, a good stew was just what he needed, warm and filling. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a wave of wonderful warmth, the scent of hearty food, and a middle-aged woman of a comfortably rounded shape coming over from another room.

“Oh, a visitor!” she exclaimed, looking him over with curiosity. “But look at you. Come in, come in. You look exhausted, boy. What do you need? A room to rest?”

With a tired sigh, Hiccup shook his head. He had no time to take a rest, no matter how appealing that thought was. “Just something warm to eat, if you would be so kind. I need to be back on the road as soon as possible.”

She frowned in motherly disapproval, but nodded when he inconspicuously turned so she could see his messenger badge. “I see.”

She ushered him in and before he’d even sat down, she placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“Must be a mighty important message you’re delivering when you can’t even take a minor break.”

Hiccup smiled into his spoon. Even tired as he was, the food and the comfort of the hearth fire was enough to refuel at least some of his energy. And the woman had been kinder than she had to be, so giving her some gossip in exchange seemed only fair.

“I guess it is,” he replied between two mouthfuls. “A wedding invitation, if I’m informed correctly. From House Jag’r. I’m supposed to deliver it and return with an answer right away.” That was the story they’d decided on, giving him a good reason to head back in a couple of days as well. Even as he didn’t look forward to the question that would inevitably follow.

The woman’s eyes grew and she leaned a little closer. “A wedding invitation, you say? So the rumours are true then. The princess is going to marry our young Lord Eret?”

Hiccup dug his head and had to bite his lip to keep himself from scowling. Of course, these rumours would have spread by now. And the fondness in her voice didn’t surprise him, either; House Jag’r was well-liked among its subjects. It wasn’t this woman’s fault, that the idea of Astrid and Eret marrying didn’t fill him with the same joy as her.

“Maybe,” he suggested casually. “Or it’s about Lady Esther’s wedding.”

“Lady Esther is going to marry too?” the woman exclaimed, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, what wonderful news. Are you sure it’s true?”

Smiling a little more genuine now, Hiccup gave something between a shrug and a nod. “That’s what I overheard, at least.”

She seemed excited, but before she could say more, another woman called her over from the room next door and she left him to eat in peace. Clearly in a good mood now, she probably couldn’t wait to spread the gossip.

Content to have made at least one person’s life brighter today, Hiccup finished his stew, left a coin as thanks for his meal, and then headed back to the way station outside. Grimacing at the gust of wind tearing at his cloak, he waited for an older boy—surely Owens son, judging by his looks—to bring him his horses. He remembered the woman’s offer of a room to rest, and dreamily imagined taking her up on it, to get some sleep until the weather—hopefully—turned more agreeable soon. But he didn’t have time for that. He had to stick to their plan, couldn’t make an exception just because the weather wasn’t playing along.

As he rode on, his thoughts kept circling around the task that lay ahead of him, and slowly, he became nervous. Over the past few days, he’d repeatedly assured Astrid and the others that he knew what he had to do, that he had the knowledge and training necessary to hunt and kill a dragon.

But the truth was… It was years since he’d been out to learn how to hunt dragons, another life. He’d only been a youth, accompanying the experienced hunters to learn just like his father had instructed and everyone had expected of him. But back then, he hadn’t been interested in the best techniques to track and find wild dragons. Instead, he’d only been excited about seeing and studying them, leading him to pay little attention to what the more experienced men had tried to teach him. Now, he could only hope that enough information had stuck with him nonetheless.

. o O o .

When Hiccup reached the swamps, what awaited him was just what he’d expected. A vast plain where grass-covered hummocks seamlessly merged into muddy lakes as far as the eye could see, with lonely trees or small corpses strewn in-between. Sadly, the weather still hadn’t changed, the air cold and close to freezing. So far, the forest had kept him mostly safe from the biting wind, but out here, he wouldn’t have that protection anymore. Even his travelling cloak could only do so much in shielding him.

Hiccup grimaced but tried to focus on any advantages the wind could give him. It would carry scents and sounds over far distances, but maybe it would also confuse his prey, making it hard for the beasts to locate him. If he managed to track one down in the first place…

With a tired grunt, he dismounted and took the horses’ reins to lead them behind him as he made his way deeper into the swamps. He needed them to carry his equipment, but carrying him over the muddy ground would needlessly tire them out. So he went on foot, regularly leaving the animals fixed to a branch or rock when he found one to search the area for any signs that a dragon might be close by.

But there were none.

When dusk came, Hiccup was starting to feel anxious. For hours, he’d been wandering through these swamplands now, but not once had he spotted even the hint of wings larger than those of a hawk on the horizon, let alone found any traces of a dragon being nearby. And he was exhausted . The wetness from the ground had soaked into his trousers, his boots, and up his cloak, making it even heavier. Dragging him down. The sky had cleared, but without the sun that only meant the temperature was dropping even lower, further wearing out his remaining strength. And in addition, the three days of travelling hadn’t done his leg any good to begin with. By now, every step was painful, his back hurting, and his limps felt like jelly. He stumbled and fell more often the farther he wandered through the swamps, and soon, his hands were muddy and cold. Numb.

And still, there were no signs of any dragons. Which meant that he was wasting his time here anyway.

With a tired sigh, Hiccup sank down onto a damp rock and buried his face in his hands. Gods, he was so exhausted. He didn’t want to waste any time by just sitting here, couldn’t really afford to do so. But he couldn’t go on like this, either. He needed to rest , something to eat and some hours of sleep. Which probably was the more sensible thing to do, anyway. Yes, he would break off for today and get some rest. And tomorrow, he would travel farther north along one of the marked paths. Maybe he would have more luck there.

“It’s the only sensible thing to do,” he muttered to himself, reluctantly resigning to this plan. “But first, I need to find a dry place to make camp. And preferably something warm to eat…” The clear sky promised a freezing night, warmth would be essential.

Gathering his remaining strength, Hiccup fought himself back up on his feet and kept going. He wandered further through the swamps, but now, he wasn’t looking for hints or trails of any dragons anymore. Instead, he was looking for prey to hunt. A deer would be nice, enough meat to keep him full through the coming days. But just a rabbit would do, too. He still had some dried rations in his pack, but he would only touch those if he had no other choice.

This time, his search didn’t take long. It was less than half an hour, the sun gone and the night illuminated by stars only, until he spotted movement in the high grass ahead of him. The rustling of the blades of grass was distinctly different from that of the wind, and it seemed as if his tiny lucky streak was still going; from the size of it, it had to be a deer and not a rabbit.

He stopped, grimacing as he found nothing to tie the horses to, but it couldn’t be helped. He wouldn't be gone for long anyway. As quietly as he could, he took one bag off the nearer horse to reach the bow and quiver strapped beneath. Then, with one arrow loosely nocked, he sneaked up the hummock behind which the deer had disappeared.

Slowly, without making the slightest noise, Hiccup made his way to the top and looked for the deer. He’d heard the rustling of grass from the dip on the other side just a moment ago, the animal had to be here somewhere. He looked around, squinting to see in the near-complete darkness of the night—but when he spotted the beast, he barely believed his eyes.

From one moment to the next, Hiccup froze in fear, eyes wide and unable to move. The animal that stood with its head bent down to drink from a shallow lake just a few feet away from him was not a deer.

It was a dragon. And not just any dragon, no. Hiccup had never seen one of these before, but he’d heard stories and had seen drawings in old books. Deep black and almost invisible in the night, Hiccup could only make out its sleek body and powerful wings by the starlight reflecting on its shiny scales. A long tail with spiky tail fins, some odd earlike protrusion on its head, it was—

A Night Fury!

The ultimate prize!

Hiccup’s heart began to race uncontrolled. This was why he was here! For whatever reason the Gods had led his way here, this was it. It had to be! The legendary beast from the old stories, so tightly linked to his name. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Now, all he had to do was incapacitate the monster with the bola shooter, and—

And the bola shooter was still at the bottom of one of his bags, back with the horses.

At the last moment, he remembered to suppress his groan; alerting the dragon to his presence could have fatal consequences. But that was the problem. There was no way he could go back and return with the shooter without the beast hearing him. It was a miracle that he’d managed to sneak up on this stealthy dragon, to begin with.

His mind was working at a rapid speed. Only seconds had passed since he spotted the dragon, but it was unlikely that he would get much more time. Any moment now, it would notice him, hear or scent him. He had to do something now.

His eyes dropped to the bow and nocked arrow in his hands. A horribly insufficiant weapon to fight against a dragon, but it was all he had.

Feverishly, he tried to remember his lessons.

A downed dragon is a dead dragon.

The wings! If he incapacitated the beast’s wings and it wasn’t able to fly, couldn’t flee and could only attack him from the ground—then he might have a chance. He carried a hunting knife strapped to his belt; not much but, it could work. It had to!

Hiccup forced himself to calm down his breathing and lifted the bow. Archery wasn’t his greatest skill, but the shot should be easy enough. He just had to tear a big-enough hole into one of the leathery wings, that was all. Manageable from this short distance. Right?

Adrenalin made his hands shake as he pulled and aimed. But he only had this one chance. So he took a deep breath and held it, forcing himself to calm down. For Astrid! he thought, and released the arrow.

And for a brief moment, Hiccup thought he’d made it.

The dragon screamed—in pain or surprise, Hiccup couldn’t tell—and whirled around. Hastily, Hiccup dropped the bow and pulled his knife instead, and in rapid speed, instructions he’d thought long forgotten popped up in his mind. He had to keep moving, had to circle the beast, somehow corner it and if possible make it use up his shots. Now that it wasn’t able to fly, he had to attack its other wing, its legs, weaken it, and—

The Night Fury roared in his direction, its large black wings stretched wide. And to Hiccup’s dismay, they were unharmed. He’d missed. Cold dread filled his stomach, but he had no time to think about his failure. For the beast had spotted him. For an endless heartbeat, its cold eyes all but pierced him. Then it jumped into the air, wings covering the entire sky, and screamed. Purple light gleamed in its throat, growing brighter and brighter and—

Hiccup reacted without thinking. At the last moment, he threw himself to the side and out of the way of the dragon’s fiery breath, and the blast of purple light missed him by inches. However, instead of landing in the grass as he’d anticipated, the world was suddenly spinning around Hiccup, leaving him without orientation. Up became down, the ground turned into thin air, and as Hiccup tumbled down the hillside, he could hear the beast screech angrily.

The landing was hard, jarring. Icy darkness closed around him, the momentary numbness only pierced by a sudden sharp pain in his left leg. He screamed as something cut deep into his flesh and doubled over to reach for his leg, but jerked back a moment later, spluttering and gasping.

For an endless heartbeat, there was only chaos; the pain and cold made Hiccup blind to what happened around him. There was another scream from the dragon, whinnying from the horses, and a noise that sounded like a sudden gust of wind—and then, only silence.

With a low groan, Hiccup tried to sit up. It took him a few tries; the ground was muddy and slippery. He’d landed in a shallow pool, and the water was icy. It stung like countless needles and made his fingers go numb. His clothes, already uncomfortably damp before, now clung to his skin. They dragged him down, and crawling up the embankment was more difficult than it should be.

Between the pain and the freezing water, Hiccup had forgotten everything else around him. But once he was back on—relatively—dry land, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. Where was the dragon? Was it watching him, waiting in some shadow and ready to attack again? He looked around frantically, eyes darting here and there, with fear blocking his throat and making it hard to breathe. He was defenceless, wouldn’t be able to dodge another attack in his current state.

But no attack came. The surrounding shadows were empty, the dim starlight enough to see at least that much.

Slumping in on himself, Hiccup let out an exhausted sigh. The threat seemed to be over, for the moment at least. And if the dragon was still around… well, then there was little he could do to defend himself anyway. A quick search showed him that he must have lost his knife during his fall, and as poor of a choice of weapon it had been, without it, he felt even worse.

Accepting that he wasn’t in immediate danger, he took a minute to catch his breath, then shifted to inspect his leg. The sharp pain made him grimace. Adrenalin and the cold water had numbed the pain after the initial burst, but now it became nearly unbearable—and horribly familiar.

Hissing in pain, he peeled back the torn fabric and tried to inspect the wound as best he could without light. His fingers were shaking and he had to grit his teeth, but after a minute of prodding and probing, he had a relatively good idea of the state his leg was in. The wound was a clean and straight cut, matching the edges of the fabric. It wasn’t so deep that it was directly threatening, but he would need to treat it and pray that the wound didn’t get infected.

“Oh, wonderful, ” he cursed under his breath, as it dawned on him what must have cut him. “Just perfect! I manage to dodge the dragon’s attack, only to fall into my own weapon. Typical! I’m… I’m such an idiot!”

With a hopeless groan, he let his head fall against the knee of his good leg, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu.

The night and the cold wind. The failed fight against a dragon. His injured leg.

It was all happening again.

But no! No, he wouldn’t mess everything up, not again. There was still time, he could still find and kill a dragon. He hadn’t failed, not until he gave up.

Gritting his teeth, Hiccup fought himself up to wobbly stand on his good leg. This new injury had hit his already weaker leg, which was good. Maybe his sort-of-lucky streak wasn’t over just yet, despite the mess he was in. He just had to focus on the positive things...

But the wound needed tending, and he was in dire need of some dryer clothes, too. Looking around, Hiccup found that his weird luck really hadn’t run out yet. Only a few steps away, he spotted a long branch. Crooked and not as strong as he would have preferred, it was still sufficient enough as an improvised crutch. It didn’t make walking easy, but at least it became a little more bearable.

Slowly, he made his way around the hummock to where he’d left the horses. In one of the saddlebags, he had clean cloth for bandages and a small flask of willow bark tincture. It probably wasn’t enough for a wound as big as this one, but it would have to be enough for now. However, even with his crude crutch, the way was difficult, especially on this uneven ground. Hiccup hobbled more than he was walking, putting as little weight on the injured leg as was possible. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he went on and on, forcing himself to endure the pain.

Just a little longer...

Just until he’d reached the horses, then he could rest…

The way around the hummock seemed to take longer than was logically possible, but Hiccup passed that off as fatigue and the slight daze he was in with the pain and after the shock of the dragon attack. He felt like the beast had still to be around somewhere, and it took him way too long to realise his mistake.

The horses were gone.

He’d possibly rounded the hummock for the second time when he spotted a leather bag lying on the ground a small distance away from him. Hobbling closer, he recognised it as his own and after throwing a glance around was sure that this was the place he’d left the horses before he’d approached the Night Fury. Except that the horses were nowhere to be seen.

“ Of course, they aren’t here anymore!” he groaned, slumping down to the ground next to the lonely bag. “The dragon probably scared them and they ran away. And I run around like an idiot, looking for...” He trailed off, laughing at himself and shaking his head. “I’m such an idiot…”

Hiccup leaned against a rock and gave himself a few moments to regain his strength. He needed a rest… Just a moment to breathe, to gather his thoughts.

First, he had to find the horses. Maybe there was another silver lining waiting for him and they’d only run a little further away from the fight. Maybe, he could recapture them easily.

With more effort than he liked, he climbed back on top of the hummock, looking around, searching. By now, the moon had come out, a full moon, bathing the landscape around him in cool silvery light. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot the horses anywhere. Instead, he spotted a patch of burned grass nearby, right next to where he’d left the lonely bag. He let out another groan. If the dragon’s attack had hit this close to the horses, it was no wonder they’d fallen into a panic and run. They were probably still running at this very moment, and were irrecoverably lost to him by now. Walking around looking for them wasn’t just nearly impossible in his current state, it was entirely useless, too.

“Shit…”

The curse came as merely a weak groan. Without these horses, it would be difficult to get fresh ones at a way station. And without horses in general, it would be tricky to make it back to Eret in time for the Dragon Hunt. If he was lucky, the messenger’s badge and a good story of how he’d lost the horses would be enough but—

Then the full range of this development hit him. The horses hadn’t just been meant to carry him back.

“SHIT!”

This time, he yelled. With the horses gone, he had no equipment anymore either. No bandages or medication for his leg. No dried food for emergencies. No oiled blankets against the weather. In those bags had been everything, clothes, equipment—his weapons!

Burying his face in his hands and pulling at his hair, he let out an inarticulate scream. Astrid had been right, after all. He should have listened to her. This whole idea had been madness right from the beginning. He never should have left her side. No matter how bad the odds, holding her hand when they tried to convince Daniel to support them… that would have been leagues better than dying out here, alone. Never to see her again…

“No…” He looked up, a small flicker of determination blooming in his chest amidst the ocean of despair inside him. “No, I won’t give up! I… I promised that everything would be all right…”

Behind his mind’s eye, an image of Astrid appeared. He’d barely ever seen her truly angry, but he could imagine so well how she would look, with her fists in her sides, leaning forward a little and giving him a well-deserved scolding. He could almost hear her, telling him that she’d told him so, that he was an idiot for going through with this stupid plan, and that he should have listened to her. Oh, what would he give to hear her voice for real now… Even if she were to yell at him, he wouldn’t mind.

With a weak smile on his lips, he raised his hand to press it to his chest. There it was, the pulsing of their bond, warm and reassuring. Urging him on. He wasn’t defeated, not yet.

Looking around the top of the hummock, he spotted his bow where he’d dropped it before. That was something, at least. Taking it, he made his way back to the one bag of equipment he had left. Every movement hurt, but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he wouldn’t let himself drown in self-pity now. He had to do the best of his situation, no matter how bad it may seem.

Just like with the injury being on his already weakened leg, he found that he was lucky in that of all the bags he’d originally brought with him, this one was the one he still had now. It contained little that was of use to him right now. A woollen blanket and a spare tunic occupied most of the space within—both things he would appreciate once he’d found a dry place to rest—but so much more importantly was what he’d stored at the very bottom of this bag. Hidden beneath the layers of cloth should anyone have taken a look, he’d stored part of his weapons. A few additional arrows for the bow, a spare dagger…

And the bola shooter.

Apparently, the Gods were still on his side. He still had a chance. The thought was reassuring, enough to keep the rising hopelessness at bay. He hadn’t lost, yet.

Studiously, he pushed all other problems aside and only focused on the next step. First, it was the spare shirt he needed. Putting it on beneath his other dripping clothes would be pointless, but at least it was clean. Using the dagger from the bag, since he’d lost the other one somewhere in that muddy puddle, Hiccup cut the shirt apart and used the cloth to put an improvised bandage around his leg. Not perfect, but it was better than nothing. At least it helped staunch the bleeding for the moment.

“All right,” he muttered to himself as he lifted the by now damp bag off the ground and onto his back. “On to looking for a place to rest. Maybe I’m even lucky and I find something to eat after all.”

. o O o .

Eventually, Hiccup’s lucky streak ran out. It had to happen sooner or later, but he still cursed that it had to happen now.

What he needed more than anything else was a fire to warm his body and to dry his clothes, a place that wasn’t too damp and wood and flint and stuff to light it. Food or treatment for his leg would be a welcome bonus, but those could wait until tomorrow. First, he had to make it until then. And that proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

After last night’s rain, finding dry wood or a dry spot to rest was all but impossible. With the injury on his leg, he only made slow progress, the pain getting worse with every step. More than once, he cursed having lost the horses, not just because of his lost equipment but because them carrying him now would have been an invaluable help. But it was more than just that. The exhaustion of the long days of travel eventually caught up with him, and the blood-loss combined with his wet clothes draining his strength did the rest to leave his mind clouded and fuzzy.

Two times, he noticed the movement ahead of him too late, a rabbit disappearing before he even had the chance to ready his bow. But even as his stomach grumbled, he found it more and more difficult to care.

His crutch hadn’t lasted long, had broken and left a long gash on his forearm in the process. Since then, he kept stumbling and falling, jarring his wound even further. And every time he fell, it became harder to get up again. He was beyond exhaustion by now. The cold wind was tearing at his clothes and slowly draining him of any energy that was left, cutting into his hands and face, and oftentimes made it hard to keep his eyes open at all. Every step was agony, his arms and legs were growing weaker with every minute, and fighting himself back up on his feet seemed more and more futile.

What even was the point? What was he trying to achieve by stumbling through this hostile landscape? Killing a dragon? Earning himself the right to be at Astrid’s side? Regaining his honour, proving to himself that he was not a failure? How was he supposed to do any of that here?

Maybe it was impossible, especially the last point.

Maybe, he was nothing but a failure, after all…

The next time his tired feet got caught and he landed face-first in the dirt, he couldn’t find the strength to stand up anymore. Maybe he should just stay here, sleep for a few hours. His skin was so numb that he wasn’t even feeling the cold anymore. And he was so tired...

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he knew that these were not good signs. It meant hypothermia, meant that he most likely wouldn’t wake up again if he fell asleep, if he didn’t get up right now. But he was just too exhausted to move, every part of him. His body, his arms and legs, his head, and most of all his mind. Everything was so heavy and slow, so exhausting. Maybe, he should just stay here. Maybe he should give up…

It was then, in that moment of resignation, when he sensed it. A whiff of mayweed reached his nose, seemingly out of nowhere, and with it came the memories. An impression of golden hair. Eyes as endless as the sky. The ghostly touch of fingers, so soft yet also strong. And a voice sweeter than the sweetest music.

You promised . You promised that you ’ d come back to me. Please, Hiccup. I… I can ’ t imagine a world without you in it.

Groaning, Hiccup rolled onto his back.

“I… promised…”

Moving was difficult. His arms and legs were so numb he barely felt them anymore. But he had to get up. He’d promised Astrid that he’d come back to her, and it was a promise he was going to keep, no matter what. Grimacing and with a shaking hand, he reached for his left leg and pressed his thumb into the wound.

“F-fuck!”

Hiccup screamed. The pain was intense, burning hot along his nerves and bringing tears to his eyes. But it also ripped away the haze around his thoughts and brought him the clarity he needed.

He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t give up and die. He had to go on, to live. For her. Sitting up, he found himself halfway up a low hummock, the ground here slightly dryer. Tentative hope bloomed in his chest, but this wasn’t good enough. Maybe if he found another hummock with some trees, some ripped-off branches and something to shield him from the wind and further rain…

Clinging to that hope, he crawled toward the hummock’s top. By now, the moonlight was flooding the land around him, so maybe the raised position would help him find what he was looking for; any form of shelter against the weather would do.

What he saw, however, made him doubt his sanity again. There, less than half a mile away, was the glow and smoke of a fire.

Hiccup stared in wonder and disbelief. With his eyes clinging to the flickering light, he even thought that he could feel the fire’s warmth on his skin, smelled the scent of food.

He made an unconscious step toward the promising campfire but then paused again. If he truly went there… what would await him? If he was lucky— very lucky一then it was just a group of travellers, hopefully friendly enough to share what they had with a stranger in the night. But he wasn’t fooling himself. Who would wilfully travel through the swamps, and this far off the paths no less? No, far more likely was that somehow other participants of the Dragon Hunt had found their way here as well. And if that was the case…

Biting his lip, Hiccup pondered his options. Going to this camp might very well end in him getting killed on the spot. No matter whether those were the same people who’d killed Snotlout’s squire or whether they were regular participants and trying to win County Ravenledge; if they saw him as a rival then they wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of him. After all, out here, nobody would ever find out what really happened. But if he didn’t go to this camp…

Hiccup’s shoulders slumped in resignation. If he didn’t go to that camp, then he was as good as dead. There was no point in deluding himself; without the warmth of a fire, shelter and care for his wound, and maybe even some food, he wouldn’t survive the night.

“I promised,” he murmured into the breeze, his decision made. “I promised I’d come back to you. And I will, Astrid. Nothing will come between us. Not even death.”

So he made his way toward the campfire in the distance. He was still just as tired and cold and in pain as before, but the hope that maybe he would survive the night after all gave him the strength he needed. The hope that he might see Astrid again.

However, when he reached the edge of the light, he paused, confused. As far as he could tell, the camp was empty. There was the fire, burning brightly, a shelter made of oilcloth, and to the side stood two horses tied to a tree. There was even something roasting over the fire, two rabbits if he wasn’t mistaken. But whoever had hunted them or had built this camp, they were nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it was a trap. But at that moment, Hiccup didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the heat of the fire beckoning him over, the scent of meat that made his stomach churn.

Slowly, he came closer, eyeing the shadows for any hidden movement even as he had no idea how he was supposed to react to an attack. Stumble against them and hope they would hit their head on a rock when they fell? Yeah, that would totally work...

With a heavy sigh, he slumped down by the fire. Warmth soaked into the skin of his face and hands, and with his weight off his leg, it already felt so much better than just moments before. He eyed the roasted rabbits but left them untouched. He was no thief, after all, still hoped the people here might help him. Instead, he just curled into a ball and sat as close to the fire as was possible without burning himself, and stared into the dancing flames.

Time passed—minutes or hours, he didn’t know anymore—until the sound of footsteps made his head whirl around. With wide eyes, he gazed at the figure emerging from the shadows, his heart pounding. He recognised them immediately, their armour, and knew exactly who was standing in front of him.

At that moment, he knew that he was dead.

. o O o .

AN: Soooooo... I'm incredibly curious about the reactions to this chapter! Finally, we met a dragon, if only briefly. But Hiccup is in a bad shape, not good for hunting down a dragon. And who was it he met there at the end? So many questions...

I'm already working on the next update, but as always, no promises for when it might be done...

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stillebesat · 4 years

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A Hero’s Rescue (part 2)

Sanders Sides: Roman, Virgil Blurb: After being defeated in battle, the last thing Roman expects is to have a soaking wet hero show up at his doorstep. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Superhero!AU Inspiration: This Post by @messythoughtsandscribbledplots Overall Fic Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Drugging (mentioned), Negative Self Talk, Threats of Violence, Death Talk Taglist in reblog.

Part 1

Roman had made his mother’s special soup over a thousand times. To the point where he could do it on pure muscle memory--a feat he discovered after a particularly unrememberable encounter with one of Brainiac’s mind ray beams that he didn’t want to experience ever again.

Still. Being able to feed himself with his mother’s soup even when his mind was completely blank of conscious thought was a good survival instinct to know he had...despite the circumstances.

And yet.

His master chefs had needed to take over the making of the soup halfway through after Roman had nearly sliced open his finger for the second time while dicing the onions because he wasn’t focused on the task at hand.

Now though, with the main preparation done, he’d sent them back to their slumber, leaving him alone to stir the soup on the stove while keeping an eye on the pot of hot chocolate simmering nearby. At least he hadn’t managed to burn either one...yet.

He supposed he could be granted a pass for being distracted though.

It wasn’t everyday he, a supervillain, had one of his nemesis’ over for a...well Roman had said kidnapping, but honestly, it was hardly that considering he’d left the kid alone to clean himself up without locking the door or even tying him up.

Roman exhaled, forcing his tense shoulders to relax as he reached up with one hand to check that his mask was still on.

Not that he’d let it or the crown he still wore to vanish. But he had to make sure.

Because he had a hero in his house.

He had a HERO in his House.

If any of the others ever discovered this--but no. He frowned. Someone had treated the young Thunderclap bad enough that he’d want to--that he’d come to Roman, no, to the Tyrant. To be--be---.

He let out another shaky breath, tilting his head to listen for the sounds of running water. For any indication that Whirlwind was still in the house.

For all he knew the young Rainspout had vanished as soon he was sure Roman had left the room.

Or...he could be sneaking around the place right now. Looking for the Tyrant’s Lair. It could all have been a trick. A trap--NO. Roman growled under his breath.

There had been no mistaking the despondency and then the disbelief in Sparky’s eyes at how he, as Tyrant, was willing to take him in and treat him like a decent person--which Roman honestly needed to figure out how that was gonna go down for the next couple of days having a guest--instead of well...killing him.

As Tyrant he was a lot of things…but an outright murderer? Hardly. Sure he could easily name a dozen other vile villains who wouldn’t have hesitated. To kill. To injure. To treat a hero, even a new one, like a punching bag. A dozen people Roman would need to check on to ensure they hadn’t mistreated Thunderclap in such a manner. Honestly, it really was a stroke of luck that the young hero had chosen to come to him first instead of--

Roman stiffened, hands going still on the pot as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Static Electricity.

Did Sparky realize he gave off that much energy? Probably not.

The soft coo of his dove confirmed that his new...guest? Yah. Guest was probably the best way to think about this. Had finally arrived.

“Fifteen minutes late, Whirlwind.” Roman said, fighting the urge to again check his mask to make sure it hadn’t slipped. “And here I thought heroes were supposed to be on ti--” He turned to the young hero standing awkwardly in the doorway with the dove on his shoulder, and promptly forgot to breathe as he caught sight of Sparky’s face.

His maskless face.

Roman jerked his eyes back to the soup, heart hammering in his chest as he gestured with a hand to conjure a simple silk mask, making it the same shade of purple as the pjs he’d created earlier that Sparky now wore.

He coughed awkwardly, desperately trying to forget all the little details, all the bruises, he’d seen just from the two second glance at the, oh Crofters, he’d known the hero was young, but not a freaking teenager! What was he fourteen?!

He’d better have not been fighting a child this entire time. No, Sparky had to be at least eighteen. Please let him be an adult and not a minor. Because if he wasn’t...Roman would have to rethink his fighting strategies against his favorite hero.

He clenched his jaw. And if...if the kid was actually freaking fourteen years old...then the perpetrator who’d hurt him like this would soon come to regret their actions because there was no way the Tyrant would let them get away with it.

Still looking away, he held out the mask to where he’d seen the hero standing, sending it with a flick of his fingers to hover near him in a crimson bubble. “You uh--forgot something, Thunderclap.”

Perhaps he should have taken Sparky to a hospital first if he was so addled in the head to forget something so simple as keeping his secret identity intact in front of his enemy.

There was a soft sigh and a faint tingle as static electricity brushed against Roman’s crimson glow, like a finger poking into the side of a balloon, before the mask was pulled free from his hold. “I didn’t forget.” Came the quiet response as the hero edged closer, pausing by the oak dinner table, using it as a feeble barrier between them. “Figured you wouldn’t let me keep it on long anyways if I’m your…prisoner.”

Prisoner? Roman scoffed, moving to pull cups and bowls out of the cupboard, setting them down on the counter. “Even if I intended you to be a prisoner, Whirlwind, which I don’t by the way even if you are technically kidnapped, because otherwise you’d be in a containment bubble where I wouldn’t be risking getting myself shocked senseless by one of your little lightning bolts. I still have standards. I wouldn’t unmask you like that.”

“....You wouldn’t?”

Roman glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noting the mask was definitely still in the kid’s hands as he dished up the soup. “Of course not!” It was hardly fair play. Especially for a new hero.

As the Tyrant, Roman may have enjoyed his battles with the Waterspout over the past six months, but they definitely weren’t ‘there’ yet when it came to him feeling any sort of victory from finally tearing away the hero’s mask to see the face of his enemy.

The moment he could corner that annoying army zapping Nerdy Wolverine though? Oh, that would be a sweet sweet victory he would savor for at least a year when he finally defeated Brainiac and rightfully discovered his true identity.

Roman turned, two bowls of soup held in his hands as he carefully kept his eyes directed at the kid’s bare feet, noting that even there the hero had cuts and bruises. He fought back the flare of anger, adding a couple more potential acquaintances he’d need to pay a visit to on his ever growing mental list. “If I wanted to find out who you were, Whirlwind, I would have taken your mask off outside when you were kneeling at my feet in the rain.”

He took two cautious steps closer to the young Hurricane, watching the feet as they shifted in place. He needed to tread carefully here. Go slow. His hero had been hurt and Roman needed to prove that Sparky was safe with him here.

He took a breath, holding out both bowls to give the kid the option of choosing one, conscious of how the hero had been concerned that they could be drugged. Right. Drugged. Mentally he crossed off six names and added one more. “Beyond the fact that I would very much prefer it to happen after a long hard fought battle where I soundly defeat you, at least that reveal outside would be far more dramatic and rewarding than doing so in my kitchen of all places.”

Wind whistled in his ears as Waterspout huffed a bitter sounding laugh as he tossed the mask onto the table. “Sorry to disappoint you then. But I’m done.” The lights flickered, the static electricity around them increasing. “Done with this...hero business. I can’t, Tyrant. It’s too much pressure. I’ll just fail.”

Roman shook his head, frowning as he set the bowls on the table, gesturing with his hand to float the two mugs of hot chocolate by the stove over to them. “You haven’t failed me.” He said lightly, setting them down.

Scare him? Yes. It wasn’t every day that a hero comes to your home out of the blue asking you to kill them.

Thunderclap snorted, resting his hands on the back of the chair closest to him, his fingers turning white. “Umm. Earlier today?”

“I know you can’t make every battle, Sparky. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t show.” Roman said with a shrug as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat, pushing the purple mask closer to the kid while fighting to not adjust his own or look at the hero’s face.

Sure he’d been disappointed. He always was when Thunderclap didn’t come to face him. Their battles were far more exciting, far more challenging compared to the other heroes he’d faced over the years. “You may not want to be a hero right now. But you’re injured. Exhausted. And hopefully hungry because I made you a ton of soup.” He twisted his hand, a soft red glow surrounding his fingers as two golden spoons appeared. He was careful to keep his eyes down away from the kid’s face as he twirled the spoons around his fingers. “After you eat your fill and get a good night's sleep in a big soft bed you might find you’ve changed your mind come morning.”

He could feel the static electricity continuing to build in the room until it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. It made it difficult to not retaliate and send up a shield of defense against the lightning bolt that could be coming his way any second.

But the kid had no reason to zap him. At least he hoped he didn’t. He just had to stay calm. Stay relaxed.

Unexpectedly, the static energy vanished like an iceberg breaking apart leaving goosebumps racing up and down Roman’s arms as Sparky relaxed his grip on the chair. “You’re...not...acting how I expected you to.”

He smirked. Good. The Tyrant couldn’t be just your predictable regular run of the mill bad guy. “Oh?”

The chair scraped against the tile as Sparky cautiously sat down, his hand resting on the mask. “You...you care far too much about...” He shakily inhaled, the lights flickering above his head as he raised a hand, presumably to scrub at his eyes judging by the movement. “Me. No one ca--but you--and--and you don’t even know who--”

No one cares? If he wasn’t certain he’d be electrocuted on the spot Roman would have pulled the young hero into another hug then and there. It sure sounded like he desperately needed one.

“Kindness doesn’t need to be shown a face, Sparky.” Roman said softly, laying the spoons on the table with a quiet clink. “Just because I’m a bad guy...doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy.”

The kid huffed another shaky laugh. “Did...did you seriously just quote Wreck-it Ralph at me?”

Roman jerked his head up in surprise. “You know--”

The hero flinched back, causing the dove on his shoulder to take flight as his violet eyes half hidden by damp bangs flashed with panic while lightning crackled at his fingertips.

Wait! Face! Gah! Roman twisted in his seat, hissing under his breath, his body tensing with the expectation of getting electrocuted. Great. Of course his love of Disney would come back to bite him at a delicate moment.

This really would be much easier if the kid would just put on the mask already, so he wouldn’t have to worry--- but Roman wasn’t going to force him to do something he obviously was reluctant to do. Sparky was a guest…even if he was technically kidnapped.

“I didn’t see anything, Whirlwind” He said as evenly as he could as the dove landed on the counter nearby with a soft coo, his mind racing as he turned his head further to stare at the pot on the stove. “But...judging from your reaction...perhaps you don’t actually want me to know who you are?”

“I--I--” There was a thunk on the table as the crackling sound coming from the boy faded. “I don’t want to...be a hero right now, Tyrant.” He whispered. “I--I can’t--not now.”

But the kid couldn’t exactly use his civilian identity in front of the Tyrant either since they were enemies. A pretty pickle. Except Thunderclap seemed to be forgetting one thing. He didn’t have to be either identity.

Roman glanced towards the young hero to see his face buried in his arms, purple mask half hidden underneath them. “Last I checked, Hurricane.” He said quietly. “There’s no rule saying that because you wear purple and white as a hero...that you can only ever wear those colors.”

It would be a dead giveaway to the villains--for the smart ones at least--if the heroes did that.

Roman gestured, his hands again glowing crimson as he created a dozen more masks similar to the purple one the table, making each one a different color of the rainbow plus some boring shades like black and brown to give Raindrops a variety to choose from.

He turned away from the display as Sparky looked up. “If you don’t want to be a hero then pick a different color mask. You can be anyone you want to be under it. I can even conjure you a different set of pajamas so you can distance yourself further from your hero color scheme while you’re here. Just…” Don’t give up just yet. He shrugged. “Pick one.”

Waterspout reached out, hesitantly touching a blue mask, before shifting to hover over a green one. “...It can’t be that easy.” He whispered. “What’s the catch?”

Roman made a face. “No catch. Pick a mask and then tell me a name to go with it.” He said, watching him from the corner of his eye as the boy lowered his head, his bangs hiding his eyes. “Any name.” He coaxed. “And I’ll call you that instead while you’re here. You won’t have to be a hero. You can just...be my guest.”

“A guest. To the Tyrant.” Thunderclap said, putting an emphasis on the name.

That--the kid had a point. Roman exhaled. How could Sparky forget he was a Hero if his enemy, the Tyrant, was still around? Which meant...he would need to create his own alter identity as well.

For the seemingly simple task of taking in a young hero and giving him soup...this whole thing was becoming more and more...complicated.

“No. Not to him. To me. Your host.” He stated, raising a crimson hand to his golden mask, altering it so that it became the same size and shape as the ones on the table, his crown vanishing as Roman made minor alterations to his appearance to keep Whirlwind from guessing his own civilian identity.

He dropped his hand from the simple red mask he now wore, heart hammering in his chest at how...well naked he felt in the thing as he turned more fully to the kid, once more back in the clothes he’d been wearing while working on recreating his Knightmare Soldiers, careful to keep his attention on the masks on the table and not the hero’s bare face. No wonder Sparky was reluctant to wear this sort of thing. It hardly felt like a disguise at all.

“You can call me Pryce.” He said, spreading his hands, fighting not to fidget under the weight of Sparky’s eyes boring into him, taking in his changed appearance.

“Pryce?”

Roman nodded, watching Thunderclap’s hands twitching over his color options. “Yes.”

It was one name he knew he would answer to that couldn’t immediately be connected back to his own civilian life.

“You’re serious about this? No heroes...no villains...just…us?”

“So long as you’re here as my guest. Yes.” If Raindrops needed a break, then Roman would give him it. Anything to keep the kid from doing--from---from repeating--.

A soft sigh. “Okay.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as Sparky plucked up a plain black mask, placing it over his eyes.

Roman blinked. Wait. Black? “Sooo...what? You going all goth on me now, kid?” He asked, slowly turning more fully towards the hero--to his guest as the boy looked up, already visibly relaxing now that Roman could look at him without seeing his identity.

The corner of his lips twitching in a half smile as Sparky ran a hand through his darker hair, ensuring the bangs still half covered his eyes. “You have a problem with me wearing black?”

Roman rolled his eyes. He was a villain who wore gold for a reason. Of course he didn’t like black. “Beyond it being such a common, dull, and boring color?” He waved a hand dismissively, vanishing the other masks. “No. Not really.”

Thunderclap huffed, shaking his head. “Then...you can call me Andy.” He said, reaching for the closest bowl of soup, violet eyes flickering to him to check Roman’s reaction.

Andy.

Roman tilted his head. Not a name he would have picked for the hero. But he supposed that was kinda the point. “Andy.” He repeated. “Nice.” Not as nice or creative as Pryce, but he’d save his critiques for the boy’s lack of originality another day. “Is it short for the Mountain range?”

Spar--Andy choked on a laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a spoon. “No--not after--No.”

“Pity.” Roman said, a more natural smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed his own bowl of soup, purposely getting the spoon to his lips before his guest to prove that the soup was safe. “After the Mints then? I would be more understanding of your emolicious choice in black if that were the case.”

Andy flashed him a smile, eyes sparking. “Only if Pryce is short for Price Tag. How much you going for these days? Two bucks?” He asked, taking a cautious sip from his bowl, only to immediately go for another spoonful.

Roman nearly choked on his own soup. Price Tag? TWO BUCKS?! How dare he insult the Tyr-- Gah! Right. Not actively being the bad guy right now. But STILL. The audacity!

No wonder he loved bantering with this kid.

“You’ll come to find, Hot Topic, that I’m priceless. You can’t afford me.”

Andy hummed, nodding like a wise old sage as he picked up the bowl in both hands, tilting it to his lips. “So your name is Less now?”

Roman clicked his tongue, watching the kid gulp down his soup like there was no tomorrow. Okay...he’d walked into that one. “No.” He said, summoning the pot over from the stove, so that the kid could get more if he so desired.

“Pity.” Andy set the bowl down, glancing to the pot then to him. “Guess I can’t think of you any Less then.” He licked his lips, meeting Roman’s eyes before he could respond. “Not after--well...thanks--for letting me...crash here for a bit...Pryce.”

Roman blinked, caught off guard at the sudden change in direction. A pity. He’d had a great retort to that earlier remark too.

He took up the ladle, filling the kid’s bowl once more. “No problem, Peppermint.” He said as he also pushed the mug of hot chocolate closer to the hero, summoning a bag of marshmallows with a twitch of his fingers. He chuckled as the kid’s eyes once again lit up. “Stay as long as you need.”

#A Hero's Rescue #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Virgil #Creativity #Anxiety #Superhero!AU #Villain!Roman #Hero!Virgil #injuries tw #drugging mention tw #negative self talk tw #threats of violence tw #death talk tw

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dhampirslays · 3 years

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✂ - a vivid memory

" This is shit. "

My gaze rose to meet Hope's as she pushed her bedding off her legs and marched towards where I sat, legs folded one under the other and leaning back against the old wallpaper. For a moment, she stood tall before me, curiously observing the plate I had been trying to paint for the past few hours before taking it in her hands and carefully dumping it over by the window's wardrobe alongside the rest of my creations. With the curtains drawn closed, the area was illuminated by the dim light of our lamp posts, standing tall by the side of our beds, and what faint rays of moonlight managed to peek past the curtain's heavy material ― even so, Hope's face was cast with shadows, making it incredibly hard to read.

" Hey, I was working on that ! "

She didn't answer. Instead, she squinted her eyes on the plate, studying it. " Isn't that the Council's gift to the school ? And wasn't it hanging on the wall by the main entrance ? "

I grunted my reply, setting the brush and the colouring palette down. " They send one of those every year. I highly doubt they'll even notice one's missing. "

" There's like, a dozen of them here. "

" Exactly my point. "

Snorting a chuckle, Hope pushed the brush and the palette side, making room for herself to sit before leaning back and bringing her head to rest over my lap. A grin crossed her face as she grabbed a hold of the paintbrush, slapped it over to the side of my face before I even had time to turn away, let alone shelter myself. Casting her a pointing glare, I turned my head towards the mirror where my eyes widened double their size at the red line starting above my bow and descending in waves down to my cheek. My lips parted, ready to voice my protest when Hope rose her hand still holding the brush ― I watched it closely, ready to dodge if she felt like splashing colour to my face again, but instead, she tossed it away and I was simply left to stare at how the brush rolled upon the old, wooden floor until it bumped to the side of the carpet.

Blinking my confusion, I looked down at her. " What the hell was that for ? "

" If I'm going to die I ain't leaving them with a clean floor. They can clean it themselves. " She huffed, crossing one leg over her knee. " Aren't you nervous about tomorrow ? "

So that's what it was all about; the Tento di Cruciamentum, or, as us normal people who thought that Latin was a waste of time to learn liked to call it, cruelty test. At least that was its direct translation ― the Watchers always referred to it as the Test, possibly recognising that telling a bunch of teenagers that they were going to be cruelty tasted wasn't the best idea, especially since said teenagers had the power to burn the entire school to the ground. Personally, I always thought that cruelty was the wrong noun to describe it ― death, was a better fit for it, more so since it wasn't exactly guaranteed that if a slayer went in, she came out; in one peace, that was.

The process had changed ever since Buffy threw a fit about it when she had first undergone it, but the key points remained the same; upon maturity, the slayer was injected with a mix of muscle relaxants and adrenaline suppressors. When the drug kicked in and she was rented powerless, she'd be sent in to fight a demon ― and although the manual didn't exactly specify which type of demon it was, more often than not, it was vampires as they were considerably easier to subdue. The Watchers always bragged that it was more for the experience than anything else, claiming that whilst they were trained to fight, this was meant to establish intelligence; practical thinking. It was also meant to be a controlled environment but accidents had happened before. Or such they were listed as, anyway. The truth was that as long as a vampire was set loose, no one was really safe ― and a powerless slayer detained in a closed space with it was basically a snack with a bow.

I never thought it was about the experience though. They could have easily taken us out in the field to get that done. Rather, it was about control; seeing if, aside from the physical factor, we were in the right headspace, still capable to get the job done once we were past that age peak. It was like Hollywood but. . . deadlier.

And the changes the test had suffered ? We now got a one-week notice paper and an instructions manual. Some would like to argue that training Watchers didn't have a different fate since they had to undergo a test of their own, but at least theirs targeted their mentality. No one would come to rip them to shreds.

Alas, I nodded. " A little. Worrying about it won't change anything. " In fact, that was the reason why I had started painting that plate. To get my mind off the fact that in less than twelve hours, I'd either be alive and graduating or having a very heated conversation with Saint Peter.

" So you don't mind that they'll barge in, in the middle of the night, while we're asleep and inject us with God knows what ? "

I had to admit the thought was pretty unsettling. We knew what the syringe contained but, at the same time, did we, really ? I grabbed a wet tissue as I started to rub it all over my face, trying to get the paint off my skin. " They don't have a reason to further hurt us. They need us for the, you know, slaying thing. "

" No, they needed us. Past tense. Now there are too many of us and it's easier to pick and choose who you want. "

I didn't want to admit that Hope was right but. . . she was making some strong points there. Although the old council was thoroughly replaced, they were quite known for going to extreme lengths when it came to disobeying slayers, evident with what had went down with Faith Lehane. And back then, there were just two slayers, not an entire race of them. Admittedly, it'd make no difference now if one girl were to die while taking the Tento di Cruciamentum. The world had survived with fewer before.

Shifting beneath her, I moved across my bed before laying down, face-first into my pillow. This was all too much to think of in one night; I was tired and suddenly unsure of tomorrow. " I guess, " I returned, turning my head to look at her. " Will you stay here ? " It wouldn't make any difference if she slept in my bed or hers, given the distance between them was already short, to begin with. But, it would make me feel a little better knowing that she was there.

Hope stared at me for a good second before nodding her head and squeezing her way on the bed to lay beside me. Using one of the extra pillows for support, she then turned her back on me, as if preparing for look guard.

" G'night. " She sang. " Don't let the vampires bite. "

I felt like someone had run me over with a track, stitched me back together and then ran me over again. And had then dumped me on the floor.

With a groan, I rolled into my back before sitting up on the hardwood floor that creaked beneath me. Pressing a hand at the back of my neck where I still felt the biting of the needle, I looked around me in question.

The room didn't have much furniture in it; aside from the old fireplace that stood in the very back, there were two stray and broken into couches, a coffee table, and a longer, higher table a few feet from where I was standing ― other than that, the room was naked and judging by the cobwebs and amount of dust on the legs of the two tables, I could only assume this place wasn't used much. My head snapped back at the couches, where I squinted.

There were two couches in this room, and I had been left on the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. Worse even; at least the dirty laundry belonged in a hamper.

" Assholes, " I muttered under my breath as I slowly rose to my feet. They felt like they were made out of jello, and when they swayed off balance, I had to catch hold of the table before I found myself on the floor again. My body cried out for the strength it was missing, for the strength that had been taken away from it, and such was evident on my every waving step, slightly missing, slightly out of balance. I knew this was only temporary, that the power taken from me would be returned in a couple of days when the drugs wore off ― but for that to happen, I had to survive until then.

When I got the hang of human walk, navigating my way around the estate wasn't so bad. Turning left from the room I was previously in, I walked up to the door and gave its knob a hard pull; locked, and it wouldn't even budge. I tried again, praying to whatever mystical force or God there was out there to give me back my power so I can kill the demon and be done with it ― but, alas, the door stayed put ( if not slightly shake at its edges ). Sighing in defeat, I moved towards the door's little window to the right, hoping to at least get a sense of where I was, or, if that was too much to ask for, perhaps the time. Using my sleeve to rub upon the dusty glass surface, I grimaced in disgust at the dirt that was now plaguing my pajama sleeve before pushing my face against the glass, glaring outside. The other side was still smudged, still blurry but I could at least see the rays of sun peeking past the dirt. It was day alright, which meant that for the next few hours, I had the greater advantage.

Now, all I had to do was locate the demon.

Grabbing myself an iron weapon from the fireplace, I took the stairs to the upper floor. With the iron shovel in hand, I traveled from room to room, searching for my opponent. And yet, every room I checked was void of life ― or, non-life in this case. I came to a stop in the very last room, glancing around me puzzled, still in hand. There was no demon or anyone in general in that house. Did they forget to unleash it ? Or maybe the test on itself had changed and they had instead been monitoring my way of thinking ? They did say it required intelligence.

First, I heard its growl, and then, I got smacked across the floor. Crashing on the wall behind me, the impact had me seeing stars and flashing colours. My back, on the other hand, sent paralysing jolts of pains all the way up to my skull which, in their own turn, took a hot second to recover from. And when my vision returned to normal, I saw it ― him, whatever the vampire was anyway. One second he was in the middle of the room and then he was kneeling before me, black eyes eagerly taking me in curiously, hungrily, as if I was a sandwich in a glass case. And then he leaned down and patted my hair down like he was trying to fix what the impact had done to them.

I wasn't really sure I was breathing during that time. All I knew was that my heart was beating loudly in my chest and I could feel it all throughout my body.

Grabbing a hold of my shoulder, he pulled me up to my feet, and now I had the chance to study him as well. With matted dark hair, his dark clothes contrasted against his pale complexion, the dried bloodstains on his shirt indicating that he had been in there a while. And then, his face turned wrinkly, his forehead bumping out as his eyes turned a bright yellow shade and his fangs making an appearance. Swallowing past the deja-vus and the paralyzing fear it brought along, offered me a toothy smile before craning my head to the side, to expose my neck and very little bits of my shoulder as his tongue ran across his fangs. If I didn't feel like lunch before, I certainly did now.

" I look forward to this time of the year, " He sighed in content, voice slightly muffled by his fangs. " You'll have to excuse me if I skip the introduction. I'm so hungry and you look very delicious. "

My fingers tightened in a fist, brushing slightly against the wall and the curtain from aside; a longshot of a plan, but it was all I got ― and when his fangs were almost a breath away from my neck, I pulled on the curtains as hard as I possibly could. The rusty hinges gave in, the curtains fell onto the floor, and light, beautiful, sweet, light painted the room an orange-golden shade. The vampire screeched in pain and brought his hands up to shelter his face that was soon starting to smoke as he stumbled away, attempting to regain composure at the shadowy corner of the room. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I grabbed the shovel and bolted out of the room, despite the fact that my back was now painfully aching due to the prior collision.

I had some time on my side; judging by the sun's colours, it would take approximately twenty minutes until the sun would start to set ― twenty minutes that the vampire would spend trapped in that room ― twenty minutes to come up with a plan or I wouldn't live to see the next sunrise.

Panicked, I entered the first room I saw and locked the door behind me. Dropping the pliers to the ground, I anxiously paced up and down, as I ran my shaking hands through my auburn strands. Plan, plan, plan, I needed a plan. But nothing would come to my mind, and the room started to close in and spin around me and ―

Startled, I jumped up when someone started banging the wall to my left. Holding the shovel close to my chest, as if it was my very own bodyguard, I hesitantly marched up to the wall. Given how every single trust of the person behind it would echo into this room, this wall was fake; holding a wooden entrance door at the very middle, I tried its handle, slowly twisting it to check whether it was unlocked but at the same time trying not to alert the person banging behind it. The knob didn't nudge ― the door was locked.

" For fuck's sake, let me out, I'm hungry ! "

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sound of the familiar voice. Scooting closer to the wall, I gave my hardest hit which, in this state, still wasn't enough to make a single crack. " Hope ? "

There was a pause. " Jo ? What's happening over there what are you doing ? "

" I'm having a vampire on my tail. " I explained the very obvious. " And I have approximately ten minutes before he eats me. "

" Shit, " She cursed. Then, another pause. " Is the door locked ? Can I come through ? "

" It's locked. " I sighed, staring up the wall in an attempt to come up with something, anything to join the rooms. Glancing down at the shovel, and then back at the wall, I frowned before I started to hit its door edge with it, watching as the surface dented in every hit I landed on it. " Hold up. " I called out before fully shoving the shovel inside the crack. Before today, all it would have taken for me to break through would have been a punch; and now, I had to dig through an entire wall just to get a small opening done. It was pathetic but alas, I put my whole body weight against the tip of the shovel, trying to force it to break through ― and it did; but it also took an entire chank of the wall with it.

Grabbing through the now enormous crack on the wall for support, I watched as Hope poked her head through it, glanced around the room, and then pulled back. A mere second had passed before I now saw two legs poking through, pushing and squirming around the crack in an attempt to wiggle their way into the room. It couldn't have taken more than a minute until she was fully in my side of the room, panting and undusting herself as she straightened her back.

I had the overwhelming urge to hug her, and cry, and hug her some more but the clock was ticking and we had now five whole minutes to figure out how to dust the vampire in the next room before the sun went down. With Hope here, my mind was more at ease; more capable of filtering through idea after idea before they all came crashing together to form a hint of a plan. I glanced back at the shovel, now cracked at the edges into a slightly sharpened tooth before I grabbed both it and Hope, dragging her downstairs. As soon as we were in the room I had first started in, I grabbed a hold of the ashy log, still inside the fireplace, and shoved it into the floor.

" What the fuck are you doing ? "

" Sharpening the log into a stake, " I curtly answered as I thrust the log into the floor, time after time until the burnt parts of it had given in to good, old wood. Exactly what we needed.

" How ? " She pressed, kneeling down next to the log, her interest peaked.

" With this, " I said, pushing the broken shovel forward. " We don't need it to be perfect, just pointy. Get to sharpening. "

By the time we had finished digging and sharpening, my nails and hands hurt. I was pretty sure some splinters had poked their way into my fingers, but alas, we had created a pretty solid stake. With a good hit, it could puncture the vampire's heart; it had the potential for it. After that, Hope left to hide with the stake and I, went upstairs to be the personal bait; to lure him downstairs so that she could deliver the final blow.

I didn't wander around for long before the vampire took a couple shaking steps out of the room, flashing me with a wicked smile. Even from a good distance away, I could smell the burnt skin, I could see the burning marks across his face and his hands. Facing the sun as he was, it was a wonder that he hadn't caught on fire on the spot.

" That wasn't very nice, little red. " He cooed, taking several steps towards me. For each step he took forward, I took one back until my hand rested upon the staircase's banister. His smile widened in the idea of a chase, of the thrill of having to chase your food before you ate it.

I set off in a run and the vampire followed closely behind me. Whereas my back ached, pulled with every step I took, the vampire only grew stronger, gaining more and more ground by the second. Finally, we made our descent in the staircase; I ran down as fast as my legs could possibly carry me, even skipped some stairs in hopes that it'd give me a small leverage but alas, just before the heel of my foot managed to hit the last step, something pushed my body forward and I landed with a grunt on the very bottom of the stairs.

I barely had time to roll upon my back as the vampire hovered over me, clasped his than around my throat, and squeezed until I was left gasping for a mere breath. Content with his victory, he loosened up his grip before, for yet again, growing his fangs but this time, wasting no time as he leaned down to bite upon my neck. I closed my eyes shut, body stiffening and ready to take the blow ― yet, the bite never came.

Opening my eyes, I turned my head to look at the man before me, frozen in place and with eyes double their size as he stared down at me. I moved my gaze to his chest, where the handmade stake was now coming through ― and not long after, I witnessed the vampire's body crumple and fall, its flash and bones turning into dust and dissolving over me.

Coughing the dust away from my face, I grabbed the hand Hope had extended for me to take and helped myself to my feet. My chest burnt as the oxygen flew back to my lugs.

" So that's done, " said Hope, shifting beside me. " How do we get out now ? "

" Grab the shovel and break through the window ? " I returned, brows arching. Following her shrug, I grabbed a hold of the shovel and walked up to the window, raising its tip to collide with the glass surface, but before I brought it down, the door to my left opened wide and a suited man walked in, fixing the collar of his jacket.

" No, no, that won't be necessary, please. Do not wreck the house more than you already have. " He scolded as if I was a toddler about to ruin my mother's finest vase. Extending his arm towards Hope and I, he added, " Poe Fillcraft, Council member. "

I didn't bother shaking his hand; neither did Hope. Instead, we just stared at him, the shovel still raised in my hands as if debating whether to start hitting him, or the window. I was still pondering my decision. Seeing that he wouldn't get a handshake anytime soon, he lowered his hand and cleared his throat.

" Having witnessed your examination thoroughly, I'm not sure how we feel about two slayers sharing one demon. It's possible that you'll have to reta― "

" Wait, " I cut in, brows furrowing into a deep frown. " You saw that ? "

" And you did fuck all to prevent us from dying ?! "

" Twice, " I pressed in, eyes narrowing. Would smacking a Council member with a shovel count as a serious offense ?

" Language, " He chastised Hope before sighing. " It was a monitored examination, we aren't allowed to offer help of any kind. " Hope scoffed in response and Poe's eyes narrowed at her frame before he continued; " I'm afraid you'll have to repeat the test. Separately. "

" That won't be necessary. " Mrs. Lovegood stepped in, offering both of us reassuring smiles. I waited, shovel still in hand until my hands started to grow sore. " The test is complete and the goal has been achieved. And besides, fixing and setting up the house would take a good couple of weeks, not to mention the test preparation and the syringe, and ― "

" Okay, fine. " Poe sighed, stepping out of the doorway. " You're free to leave. Don't forget to stop by the administration office to get your papers. "

Hope and I stepped out of the house. We walked down the stairs, and into the pathway to get back to the school but I stopped dead in my tracks. Instead, I turned around, lifted the shovel, and threw it across the window, watching as it broke the glass and tackled the curtain into the ground. Poe parted his lips, about to scold me for my outburst but Mrs. Lovegood shushed him by placing a hand upon his shoulder. Glaring at both of them, I turned on my heel, ready to follow Hope.

" Oh, and Joyce ? "

" What ? "

" I'd love to see those plates of yours. "

#( ❛ to feel alive: not just the carcass but the sparkle ❜ ― answered asks )#( ❛ tell me where to put the anger ❜ ― solos )#kennedybtvs #can you tell my braincells almost died during the end lmao

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makeste · 4 years

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Who is the bitch in the first year hero courses most down for murder, do you think? Surprisingly, despite being the only one to actually MAKE death threats, I'm mot sure Bakugou is all that high up there? When you've got Todo freezing people from the inside out, Mushroom Girl choking people, Honenuki drowning people and dropping industrial chimneys on them etc etc... What would your rankings be?

what better way to spend a Sunday evening than by ranking all of U.A.’s first-year students by murder.

disclaimer: I am doing this for fun and this entire post is ridiculous so please do not take it too seriously. also just a heads up, this post contains some recent manga spoilers as well as a couple of spoilers for Heroes Rising. now then, let’s quantify these bloodthirsty little savages.

okay so despite being entirely too plus ultra for their own good, approximately 99% of these kids would never dream of doing any kind of permanent harm to another living being. so I’m just listing the first thirty in no particular order, and then we’ll get to ranking the top ten.

Aoyama

despite having that brief moment in chapter 167 where virtually everyone thought he was a serial killer, Aoyama is actually a good boy. a bit stalkerish, maybe.

Mina

Mina did dream up that one attack where Ochako floats her up in the air so that she can rain acid down on people, which is slightly homicidal. but she’s not a killer. honestly if she was we’d all be dead already. see: thicc Girl Noumu.

Tsuyu

if Tsuyu had ever killed someone she would have already told everyone all about it because she is open about these things so safe to say she is not a killer.

Ochako

all Ochako wants to do is help and support people. she can be pretty hardcore from time to time but my baby girl would never. not to say that villain wouldn’t be a good look on her. I still get a shiver up my spine remembering that one time Toga turned into her and demonstrated exactly how deadly her quirk could be.

Ojiro

nah. the worst thing Ojiro has ever done was throwing his empty plain yogurt cup into the wrong recycling bin by accident, and he felt terrible about it afterward.

Kaminari

real talk, Kaminari could very easily kill a ton of people with his quirk if he actually tried. but he hasn’t, because he is only two and is too busy learning his shapes and colors and leaving his lego duplo blocks all over the carpet for other people to trip on.

Kirishima

do I even have to justify this at all. duh Kirishima doesn’t murder people sorry to anyone who came into this post all excited to read a big paragraph going off about Kiri’s raw bloodlust. I don’t know what you expected.

Kouda

Kouda is probably deadlier than everyone thinks. imagine him commanding, say, a mob of giant hornets to swarm and kill someone. it’s a good thing he wouldn’t actually hurt a fly.

Satou

I sat here for a while thinking about what I could say about Satou. but just. can you picture him killing a guy? nah, me neither.

Shouji

one of the things I like about Shouji is that he looks older than he is, and kind of creepy, what with the masked face and the freaky tentacle arms and all the like. and so he very likely experienced some of that good old fashioned quirk racism growing up, and people were afraid of him and/or thought he would become a villain. but instead he decided to become a hero. and I think that says so much about Shouji’s character. it reminds me a lot of Shinsou; his desire to become a hero was so strong that he overcame prejudice and circumstances which could just have easily have led to him becoming a villain (and in fact, it’s not all that different from some of the actual villain backstories). anyway so yeah no murder for him.

Jirou

I think she would consider killing anyone who ever hurt Momo or Kami, but aside from that NO because she is a good pure girl who loves music and rocking out and putting smiles on people’s faces.

Sero

poor Sero is so not-murdery that when he does get pitted against someone with more murdery energy such as Todoroki, he basically gets immediately overwhelmed and everyone is just kind of wincing and then timidly applauding him and saying “good try.” that’s Sero’s life. he would just sit there and get murdered rather than going in for the kill. he’s a good bro.

Mineta

needs several restraining orders filed against him, but wouldn’t actually kill someone.

Momo

well one time she did explode a grenade in Aizawa’s face. but no.

Awase

now we have come to the 1-B kids. I will give brief descriptions in case you, like me, sometimes have trouble remembering their names. so, Awase! the welding, Momo-rescuing one. he is not murdery.

Sen

the rotating limbs one. one of the least murdery kids in the fairly murderous 1-B on account of his quirk is just too ridiculous. sorry Sen.

Kuroiro

the Tokoyami one. more likely to bore you to tears talking about death than actually kill someone. which is too bad because he honestly would make a pretty bitching assassin.

Kendou

would say she’s probably in the top fifteen. god I love her quirk so much. just want her to slap some bitches to death. but she probably wouldn’t.

Shishida

the growly monster one. he does get some bonus points for tending to lose control once he goes full beastmode and werewolfs out. and he is fairly deadly.

Shouda

the roly poly double smashy one. it’s actually only a matter of time before Shouda kills someone, most likely. his quirk is way too dangerous, and the thing is, it’s probably hard for him to tell how dangerous a particular impact is going to be beforehand. one of these days it’s gonna be way stronger than he intends and somebody’s neck is gonna get snapped.

Pony

never forget that time Pony stabbed Ojiro and Shouji like a dozen times and everybody was just cool with it.

Tsuburaba

the air platform one. he did try to suffocate Kouda that one time.

Tetsutetsu

only if he’s fighting Shouto. or teamed up with Shouto. then all bets are off as to whether or not he’s going to drill his superheated steel fist right through somebody’s face.

Tokage

the severed limbs one. she just has kind of a murdery vibe to her. stalking everyone with her various body parts. yuuugh. I bet if she did kill someone nobody would ever be able to prove it was her.

Manga

the speech bubble head one. is going to destroy so much public and private property once he’s set loose on the streets. but no deaths.

Bondo

the glue one. and nah, Bondo is cool.

Koudai

the Ant-Man one. doesn’t strike me as particularly murderous, I even went and reread her part of the joint training arc to confirm it. she’s fine.

Rin

the kung fu dragon one. not especially murdery. overall probably one of the least bloodthirsty in class 1-B in fact.

Shiozaki

the vines one. she’s extremely murdery. I can’t be the only one who thinks that, can I? Shiozaki scares the shit out of me. if I were Kaminari I would have nightmares about her.

Monoma

would murder every single member of class 1-A if he could. would be the criminal in a Detective Conan two-parter. would give a long monologue about always being the side character and never in the starring role until one day he finally couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. why does his hero costume make it look as though he’s going to steal a bunch of famous jewels out from under everyone’s noses. nah but I’m just kidding and Monoma would never actually kill someone. but one day he’s probably going to be framed for murder by a villain and Kendou and Shinsou will have to team up to defend him and catch the real culprit.

10. Yanagi

the creepy pale ghost-girl-looking one. contrary to what you are probably all thinking, her high ranking isn’t just because of her general horror film vibe, but also because she attempted to bludgeon Mina to death during the joint battle arc. but also yes it is because of her general horror film vibe.

9. Kamakiri

the stabby one. he’s up here because I’m pretty sure he tried to kill Jirou that one time. like what was he even gonna do if Bakugou hadn’t stepped in. though to be fair I don’t think he actually had his knives out at the time so maybe he was just gonna elbow her in the face or something idk.

8. Bakugou

I agree with you that Bakugou is much more bark than bite, anon. and not only is he remarkably careful and precise with his quirk and good at avoiding any collateral damage (and even better IMO ever since his supplementary training), I think that due to his various struggles with being perceived as a villain and also trying to find his own understanding of what being a hero means, he’s probably more self-aware than most of the other kids at this point when it comes to matters of “is this morally okay.” so in spite of his generally violent demeanor, I very much doubt he ever would or could actually kill someone. but he’s in the top ten because his high shounen protagonist levels do place him in the “would potentially go apeshit if and when something happened to someone he cares about” category, though. and also because he and Deku did basically attempt to disintegrate Nine, and then when Nine just dropped off the face of the earth afterwards, no one even bothered to wonder what had happened to him. which leads me to wonder if Deku and Katsuki straight up assume they did in fact kill him and just dgaf.

7. Deku

see above re: Nine. and also he may have to kill AFO one day. so while he probably wouldn’t be happy about it, I think he could still potentially do it. and also because he absolutely does lose his gotdamn mind every time someone hurts one of his friends, and especially Kacchan, and I could picture him just snapping if something really awful ever actually did happen. I don’t think it would in canon because it’s just way too dark, but I don’t think it’d be out of character if he did.

6. Iida

literally tracked down the villain who attacked his brother with the full intent of personally killing said villain once he got his hands on him. true, Shouto and Deku talked him out of it in the end, but still. that was some real motherfucking killing intent. also I will never forget the image of this kid sitting his ass down in middle of the woods and mutilating his own goddamn body without any anesthesia. listen, everyone. just please, for your own safety, do not fuck with Iida.

5. Shouto

and now we reach the top five. listen, feel free to disagree, but I stand firm in my belief that out of all the non-traitor and non-demon-possessed children in class 1-A, Todoroki Shouto is absolutely the most likely to straight up just kill a bitch one day. this boy froze a man from the inside out until a tower of fucking ice was jutting out of his fucking throat, and was all “go ahead and hibernate for a while” like excuse me, THE FUCK. and the thing is, this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence either; he literally pulls this kind of shit ALL THE TIME. froze an entire fucking building with his classmates in it and was all “feel free to bring it on but fighting without the soles of your feet will be painful.” heh. what the fuck. and do you all remember when he fought Sero and was in a bad mood so he iced half the fucking stadium. nearly killed a few people right then and there. “I got carried away.” whaaaaaaat. and I could go on and on; he nearly burned poor Shindou alive, and basically the entirety of chapter 205 could have been submitted as evidence in a court of law had that training battle against Tetsutetsu gone only slightly differently. basically Shouto is an entirely too realistic portrayal of a very sweet but marginally unstable boy with a completely broken power and a shitload of unresolved personal trauma which he is still working through.

4. Honenuki

somehow more murdery than Todoroki “HIBERNATE!!” Shouto. this is entirely because of chapter 205, formerly the most murdery chapter of the entire series, and dethroned only by the recent chapter 266 for obvious reasons. anyway so during the joint training battle, Honenuki bludgeoned Todoroki in the back of the head and would probably have let his unconscious body slump into the softened ground to drown had Iida not saved him. he then proceeded to drop a water tower on top of the both of them. a whole-ass water tower. this was a fucking training exercise. and Honenuki was the only one who kept his calm throughout the entirely of said exercise. and he was praised for his calm murdering skills afterward. because he was fucking awesome tbh. anyway but the point is this is supposed to be a hero school not an assassin school but I’m not really sure anymore you guys.

3. Tokoyami

my man would have straight up killed Moonfish in that forest and sure did try his best. he’s got the same issue as Todoroki in that his quirk is as powerful as it is unstable. and while he himself is not murdery, when Dark Shadow loses control, though… hooooh boy. I was gonna add something about him also interning under Takami “literally stabbed my friend in the neck for the greater good” Keigo, but I think that makes them both come off as more sinister than they actually are. I do think a big part of Tokoyami’s story is him overcoming his inner darkness and wresting control of it and mastering it, so I don’t think it’s very likely that he actually will kill someone in the story. but he’s got a murdery side, no two ways about it.

2. Toadette

straight up filled Tokoyami’s windpipe with mushrooms during a training exercise. he uses that to breathe, fyi. she then offered him a lozenge afterward. do not fuck with Toadette. do not. just don’t.

1. Hagakure

last but not least! Hagakure “hasn’t killed anyone officially but is also definitely the traitor” Tooru! y’all know how it is! I’m committed to this theory! I’d even be willing to put money on a reveal scene where she does just straight up kill someone, and that’s our cliffhanger establishing that the traitor is none other than! and this is coming up sooner than you might think too, guys. Horikoshi brought up the traitor again relatively recently during the Christmas Eve chapter, and that kind of foreshadowing isn’t for nothing. anyways I’m here for it though so bring on that body count you funky little turncoat.

so there you have it. my not-that-definitive definitive ranking of classes 1-A and 1-B by murderous inclination. there’s really not that much rhyme or reason to it tbh but this was fun, thank you anon!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #class 1-a #class 1-b #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #heroes rising spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #bnha meta #bnha ranking

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dalekofchaos · 4 years

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The Fireflies’ vaccine wouldn’t have worked or why Joel did the right thing

In the last part of The Last of Us, Joel kills all the fireflies and saves Ellie but by doing so he may have doomed humanity by ending the possibility of a cure being made, making the ending bittersweet and morally ambiguous. The thing is, Joel didn't really do anything wrong, and saving Ellie was the right choice, here are my reasons:

The doctors would remove Ellie's brain to try to create a vaccine, but that's not how vaccines works, a vaccine is a tamed version of a pathogen that "teaches" your body to defend against it, to do a vaccine you need to use the pathogen in small quantities or a modified version of it, Ellie is immune to it, you don't create vaccines from the immune system, that's called a serum, and it works differently, a serum is used when someone comes in contact with a disease and it contains a series of antibodies that fight the infection, but it doesn't make anyone immune. So what they were trying to do was pointless;

Even if the doctors know what they were doing, it was a wild shot a with no guarantee that it would work;

Even if a vaccine was successfully made they wouldn't save the world, the world was destroyed 20 years ago, society collapsed and was rebuilt again on a new way, and everyone already new how to deal with it, also the greatest threat were not even the cordyceps fungus anymore, it was the infected (that the vaccine couldn't do nothing about) and the crooked humans that walked the earth. Besides that, the fireflies had no way to distribute the vaccine worldwide, not even in a national level.

If you listen to the tapes in the Colorado segment, it pretty much confirms that Ellie is not unique and they wouldn’t be able to make a vaccine anyway. The doctor has practically lost his mind and Ellie is just his white whale. Ellie was not the first subject and she most likely wouldn’t have been the last.

The doctor pretty much went against the common ethical code of all medical practitioners just for a CHANCE at a vaccine/cure.

And wouldn't it take a lot of time to study her? A day to do all the tests is outright impossible. Just look at the corona vaccine. With all the tech the world has the biotechnologists are going to take more than a year to make a vac.

Vaccines for Fungal infections are nearly impossible and are a logistical nightmare.Even in today’s world,they can only be treated with antibiotics and anti-fungal medicine. They didn’t even bother with thoroughly researching Ellie’s blood and trying to extract the fungal specimen without killing her. The tests were blood samples and samples from the area where she was bit and then only cutting her brain open as THE LAST POSSIBLE USE for her, then when their step 1 was "lol just kill this incredibly rare specimen" I was shocked.

BTW, PS4 version actually removed a piece of paper that's available in all the other forms of the game. What is this piece of paper? Just the one that describes how they've tried this process dozens of times before and how they've NEVER gotten any useful info.

The Fireflies are terrorists. The Fireflies are terrorists, and not even competent ones. Here we go. We first hear of the Fireflies in credits, where they are taking credit for attacking the Federal Disaster Response Agency. Not a good start.The next time we start to see hints of them is through graffiti in the quarantine zone. What does this graffiti say? Fireflies will take it all back. That sounds great! Burn it all down. ...oh. That’s, uh, a little less great. Fucking die, pig. Um… Uh, that’s uh, not a great look here guys.And that goes on and on. The graffiti does not exactly inspire. All it does is get angry.Next time we see them, it’s when they literally bomb a checkpoint and supply truck, then begin firing wildly all over the place. This is straight terrorism. They don’t care if there is collateral damage, in fact, Joel gets injured in this scene.Then we meet Marlene, the so-called Queen Firefly. Injured and on the run, the military is slowly wiping them out. This leads to a line of dialogue that is absolutely hilarious. Marlene starts to preach about “We’ve been quiet. Been planning on leaving the city, but they need a scapegoat. They’ve been trying to rile us up. We’re trying to defend ourselves”Those are big words from someone who just bombed a checkpoint.This clearly shows us that Marlene cannot be trusted as a narrator. She has an agenda and is lying to Joel and possibly herself. And that despite how effective guerrilla tactics usually are, her group is still managing to get absolutely devastated. They are failing so badly that they have to recruit smugglers just to try to get Ellie out of the city.So begins the trek showing dead Fireflies at every turn. Downtown subway station? Dead Fireflies. The Capitol building? Dead Fireflies. Pittsburgh? Oh, let’s talk about Pittsburgh.Pittsburgh is a monument to Firefly failure. Pittsburgh was originally another Quarantine zone held together by FEDRA. So what happened here? Well, times got hard, and the Fireflies instigated a civil war or insurrection. This fighting lasted for months, with Fireflies lynching soldiers that they caught alone, burning soldiers alive after dousing them in gasoline, and FEDRA retaliating by executing Fireflies. FEDRA finally gave up and retreated from Pittsburgh, putting the Fireflies in control- and then it all fell apart. The people of Pittsburgh discover that the Fireflies had planned to move right into the space FEDRA had previously occupied. And so, after this was discovered, the Fireflies were driven out just like FEDRA had been. Only much faster, and with less fight. And now Pittsburgh is nothing but anarchy. People gunned down in the streets for nothing. Rooms full of bodies, clothes and shoes. Almost looks like after images of Dachau. Bravo, Fireflies. Excellent revolution.Next up, we meet Tommy, Joel’s brother, and disenfranchised Firefly. He worked for them for years, going all the way to Colorado for them. Somewhere along the way, he lost faith in them and left their cause. He doesn’t specify exactly why, but it seems he might have lost faith in their methods.Then we come to the University. This is where we really discover how incompetent the Fireflies actually are. One of the first notes you see at University is about a guy who is angry he got yelled at for falling asleep on guard duty. Real professionals. This same note indicates that while they’re still getting some supplies, it’s not enough for what’s needed, with gasoline being particularly short. The next note comes from a recording, telling us that they’re losing more guards, with the doctor clearly concerned about how much equipment and data will be lost if they have to move. The doctor even calls the Fireflies incompetent in this note. And then we have this genius.. That’s right. Bitten by his own lab monkey. Because he just had to set it free, rather than putting it down humanely. Brilliant work sir. Brilliant. He kills himself before turning though, but not before informing us that they hadn’t accomplished anything for over five years. And even that small breakthrough was ultimately a failure. And now the entire lab is compromised, and abandoned.And then there’s a long break from Fireflies until Salt Lake. Ellie, having just gone underwater, isn’t breathing. Joel attempts to perform CPR on her when our hero Firefly shows up, and knocks Joel unconscious. Ah, violence. The first solution. Willing to forgive it, since it strongly mirrors the scene with Sarah, only the Firefly is in the soldier’s shoes this time. But still. Military was gentler.And now for the hospital. The final failure of the Fireflies. This is where so many people are convinced that Joel screws the world by preventing a vaccine. But somehow, I just don’t think so. This is one last desperate bid by the Fireflies for control. How do they intend to do this? Comprehensive bloodwork? No. Vigorous testing with laboratory animals, like, oh, maybe monkeys? No, someone let all their monkeys go. Crack open her head and hope for the best? Hell yeah! Does the fact that they’ve lost their biologist concern them? Nah, it’ll be fine! Does the fact that this is the only time they’ve seen immunity to this degree even give them pause? Pfft, crack her open! Does the fact that there has never been a successful vaccine against fungus give them pause? PASS THAT SCALPEL! No need to think this over, let’s blow our whole load on this once in a lifetime lucky strike as fast as possible. No, I’ve never heard the story about the goose who laid the golden eggs, tell it to me after I finish butchering surgery. Even if we make this vaccine, how will we deploy it? You're thinking too hard, hand me the saw!This is just bad science. Done by bad scientists. Cheered on by fools. Fools who wanted to murder Joel after he made that long trip.And for people who insist on government and democracy, it’s funny how they didn’t risk telling Ellie their “plan” and just sedated her and rushed her to the table.

Even by SOME MIRACLE they managed to make a vaccine, the world ain't gonna automatically return to what it was. It's a dog eat dog world and that is the new normal. Infected, cannibals, more psychos like David and raiders are still there and it ain't going away soon or maybe ever. On top of that, mass production and distribution of a vaccine is an absolute logistical nightmare in a post apocalyptic world- they simply don't have enough resources for that. And who's to say The Fireflies wouldn't use it to as a bargaining tool to put everyone, willing or not, under their new rule? And even given all that, they debated killing Joel after he delivered Ellie. He did the job and the payment he received was getting knocked out and being marched outside of the safe zone AT GUNPOINT WITHOUT HIS WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES! The Fireflies broke their deal and fucked Joel over. Joel had ever right to kill them and save Ellie.

So I believe what Joel did in the end was the right thing, the fireflies was an extremist group that was willing to do anything not to save the world, but to prove their point, even kill an innocent girl under a delusional precept.

#The Last Of Us #Joel Miller #Ellie Williams #The Fireflies #Marlene #Jerry Anderson

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ratgirlandfriends · 3 years

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( Replying to @bryanhasanswers )

There were a few benefits to a dietary lifestyle like mine.

One was the obvious benefit of sustainance being plentiful and easy to obtain (humans don’t put up much of a fight).

The second would be the feeling of “cleaning up”, so to speak. There were truly monstrous people in this world. What better way to send a message than to show them that one day their sins will literally eat them alive.

The third benefit was simple. Cooking was a pain in the ass and I didn’t feel like doing it.

The silence was dead as I stood atop the mahogany conference table staring down at my own handywork. Most of them had managed to use the last few breaths they had to crawl under the table in an (admittedly HILARIOUS) attempt to escape... I had to admit, the look of horror on Isegawa’s pretty little mug was extra satisfying.

“Maybe you’ll think twice before ya mess with anyone else’s face. Bitch.”

With a heavy sigh I hopped off the table and made my way to the quarantined area where the test subjects were housed, preparing myself for the slew of flashbacks as I unlocked the door using the key card I’d swiped off one of the dead security grunts... inside was another hallway lined with numbered doors. I sniffed the air...

I could only catch the scent of three living bodies inside.... and it was going to be a delicate process getting them out of there. It took over an hour to locate each room containing the experiments... and god even knows how long to get each calmed down enough to trust me and allow me to lead them outside to where my associates were waiting with an armored vehicle (which we had previously procured raiding another facility). Inez, my right-hand and fellow escaped experiment stepped forward, attempting to hand me the keys.

“I need you to take them to the safe house, Inez.” I pushed the key back into her hand. “I have a couple more things to take care of here... If I’m not back by morning then go ahead and start heading to our next destination. I won’t be far behind.” Inez nodded gesturing for our three rescues to follow her into the vehicle... there were two boys and a girl, all about the same age as me when I went through that hell on earth. I hoped to god those kids could finally get some sleep tonight...

I watched them all climb into the vehicle, Inez nodding to me once more before starting the engine and taking off over the horizon. Well... at least that part was taken care of. Our mission was a surprising success, but this was easy mode. This facility had no more than 12 staffed and only three human experiments... that was nothing compared to the places that housed the REAL horrors. Those buildings were like death trap dungeons that were just teeming with specially trained soldiers who were armed to the teeth.

My associates and I were no match for that kind of power... but I knew someone who was, which was why I was now walking towards the heavily wooded area nearby. With any luck the person I had in mind would be showing up to our little party any moment now.

I flicked a chunk of viscera off my shoulder (not sure why I did that as I was more or less covered head to toe in the blood and entrails of a dozen different people.) Leaves and branches cracked beneath my boots as I shuffled my way deeper into the woods, the scent of the facility I’d just laid waste to finally far away enough that I felt I could rest, and the fallen tree I’d just happened upon seemed as good a place as any.

I yawned, stretching lazily along the slanted tree and staring up into thick tangle of branches above, the high of the kill finally beginning to ware off. That is always worst part... the rush always faded, and when it did there I was... stuck with the realization that for every one of these labs I laid to waste another one would always pop up, run by an even more sadistic bastard than the last.

#tekken #original character #vira morana #bryanhasanswers #awakening

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years

Text

Plan M (Leverage)

a Leverage series finale AU

As always, I own nothing. This one’s due to the layout of my season 5 DVD set, I kid you not, and what that made me expect from the series finale.

I’m posting this under scraps and snippets, because it kind of is - it’s either a oneshot or the start of something bigger, and it’s totally unchecked. It’s also my first attempt at writing Leverage, and I’m not sure I can live up to the excellence of the source material.

Plan M

Alec listens to Parker panicking over coms and tries not to join her. Oh, he'd like to, but someone's going to have to keep it together if they're going to make it out, and looks like he's someone.

“Parker. Parker! I need you to take out your earbud, Eliot's too. Okay? And then smash'em.”

“What about the others? What if they're in trouble and need us?”

“If you don't think they can hold it together while we make sure Eliot survives, then I don't know who you've been spending the last couple of years with.”

If he's wrong about what's going down then there'll be time to apologize later. If he's right... Well, if he's right then ain't nobody going to need no apologizing.

Once Parker agrees Alec takes out his own earbud and crushes it with a pair of pliers before turning on Lucille's internal communications system. Once he's made sure Parker's found the giant first aid kit – Alec had started stashing one in Lucille, in every version of her, after the first time Eliot had ended up bleeding for them – and has patched up Eliot somewhat he starts throwing out orders.

“Right, get back into the cabinet where you found the first aid kit, yeah? Feel the upper right corner, front? There's a thumb-print pad.”

Three people are keyed into that pad, three out of five. Maybe it'd have been different once, but when Alec'd put in that secret compartment after DC that's the choice he had made. The three of them together, for better and for worse.

He directs Parker through removing the canister with acid – slowly, carefully – and dropping all three earbuds and their dismantled phones into it before replacing it in the compartment. Next he talks her through remote-triggering a virus in his system to corrupt and erase everything. Once that's done he feels himself relax a little. Things are still bad, only now their chances of getting out safely has gone up a couple of points.

“Okay, good. Great work. Now, please tell me you have a doctor lined up. Someone you haven't shared with the rest of us.”

And this is why he's secretly happy it's Eliot lying there shot instead of Parker. Okay, part of it – Alec's pretty sure he'd be nowhere this calm if it had been Parker bleeding out, plus Eliot would agree that it's better him than Parker or Alec – but. Between the two of them – hell, between all five of'em – Parker's the one most likely to have secret resources. Be it a secret identity unshared, or a warehouse slash safehouse, a stash of money for easy escape, or a doctor. They've all got some backup-plan, and Nate's got a dozen, but Parker's the one who doesn't advertise. And right now that's what they need.

“Hardison? I don't understand.”

“I know, and I wish I had all the answers, and time for them, but truth is I don't. Eliot don't. I'll tell you everything I can once he's safe. So, you have a doctor? Because if not we need to get in contact with Vance. Now.”

That makes Parker go quiet, just like Alec knew she would. Bringing Vance in means Eliot lives, but they lose him anyway. Because Vance'll help, but he won't do it for free. Not when it'd mean getting Eliot Spencer served on a plate. Not when Alec and Parker would go with him, even into hell.

And it would be hell.

“Parker?”

She's got someone, and Alec releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Good. That's another hurdle passed. As he follows Parker's directions he counters with his own. The secret compartment holding the canister of acid also contains a set of bags. Five, even if only three people can access them, because he still hadn't given up hope then.

Parker leaves four of the bags in the duffel they'd been kept in, only taking out Alec's. She'll sort them through later, safely getting rid of what they can't use. She only protests a little at taking the money and ID:s meant for Nate and Sophie, but she knows as well as he does that at least Sophie's got her own backups out there.

“Don't call anyone. Okay? Not Archie. Not Sophie. No one. Just make sure Eliot is fine, and then head out of the country. Vancouver if you can make it, there's a key to a safety deposit box in your bag, if you can't... Anywhere you think is safe. I'll find you. I'll cover your tracks and then I'll find you.”

“Alec? Why can't I contact Sophie? What's wrong?”

He debates what to tell her, because it's such a long and ugly story, but in the end he tells her the truth. There is no other option.

“Nate wasn't honest about this job. It isn't about a medical patent, it's something else. It's... Well, the details don't matter, not now anyway, but he's looking to steal information. Part of it's because it'd pretty much provide a list of which bad guys to after, but I've realized it just as much about getting one over on Sterling.” Nate and his hubris. Deep down Alec has always feared that one day it'd get them backed into a corner they couldn't get out of. Oh, he hadn't really thought it'd happen, not with the four of them keeping watch, but what you believe and what you fear at 3 am are different animals.

“And before you ask, yeah, I knew. He promised me he'd tell you before anything real went down, and I was stupid enough – flattered enough – to believe him. Only it didn't go like that.”

The truth is that had Parker and Eliot known they'd have played it differently, and Eliot wouldn't be bleeding in the back of Lucille right now. Probably.

And that's just as much on Alec as it is on Nate.

He hated keeping the secret, but he still did. He still believed that Nate knew best, that Nate would look after them. Now... Now he suspects Nate will look after himself, and Sophie, and the rest of the team will only come into consideration if protecting them won't threaten Sophie.

Alec can, reluctantly, understand that. After all, it's sort of what he's doing now, isn't it? He's protecting Parker and Eliot at Nate and Sophie's expense. Doesn't make what Nate's done any more right though.

Doesn't make what Alec has done more right.

“I'd never have gone along with it if I'd thought either of you would be in danger, I need you to believe that, Parker. I would never. You two are the most important thing in the world to me, I would risk that.”

He knows he has though, and it kills him to think he could have stopped this. Eliot's been shot, protecting Parker, and Alec just isn't okay with that. He knows Eliot is, that it's his deal with the universe – his life for theirs, if needed – but it wasn't going to happen like that. It was going to be the three of them, looking out for each other, and now Alec's fucked that up.

If he makes it to Vancouver and they're not there he won't blame them. If he can't find them? He'd deserve it. Because while Eliot's deal was to protect them Alec's deal – Parker's deal – was to protect Eliot. And now Eliot's bleeding out in Lucille because Alec was distracted by Nate's flattery.

He'd thought this was Nate teaching him, showing him how to be a mastermind. How to make sure he could keep them safe. Making plans that didn't need adjusting, that wasn't too involved and elaborate. How to make plan A the working one. Instead it's... it's plan M. Only a plan M where it's not Alec, but instead Eliot.

No. He won't think like that. Not now.

As he pulls to a stop Parker jumps out and runs up to his window. She's hard to read on a good day, which this is definitely not, and Alec can't even begin to figure out what's going through her head right now. He just knows that it's probably better than he deserves, seeing as he's still in one piece.

“You take care of him, okay? And yourself. Be safe, and smart, and don't let anyone get in the way of you getting out alive.

“I love you.”

He pretends not to notice the tears in Parker's eyes as he drives off.

The hunt's on now, Alec knows it, and he's pretty sure that if he could just get his rapid heartbeat to calm down he'd hear sirens all over. He needs to shake them, obviously, but not really. What they tried to pull is too big for the other side to let go. They'll be hunted until they're found, and so Alec needs to be first found and then, but only then, get lost. He's thought about options before – of course he has, because hello? They lost their first and second office due to people coming after them. The chances of it not happening again were never that great. (Alec mourns the brewpub for a second. It might not have been the office he'd have chosen, but it was never about that. The brewpub was for Eliot, and Alec hates that he's losing that.) Anyway, after that he wasn't going to pretend like they didn't need fall-backs.

He flicks through scenarios in his mind, one after the other, discarding them just as fast as he can remember them. They're not bad plans, they're not, it's just that they're very Alec Hardison. They'd work against just about anyone they've ever gone up against, except this time it needs to work not only against the police and Interpol and Sterling. It needs to work against Nate as well.

In the end he decides that only one thing will work against Nate: the kind of plan Nate himself would come up with. Luckily he's got one of those in his back-pocket. (Okay, not actually in his pocket, but almost. Kind of.)

It takes running a red light or ten, but Alec picks up a police tail. Great. That's step one. Next he heads for the docks, speeding more than a little, praying all the while that he can do this. This plan really needs Parker, or Eliot, or both of them. It's made for the three of them, like they promised it'd be, but Alec can adapt. He hopes to hell he can.

As Lucille goes over the edge Alec sends up a prayer to a god he doesn't believe in, fixes Parker and Eliot's faces in his mind and allows Parker's voice to echo through him.

“Better or worse, we change together.”

#chocoholic fics #leverage #scraps and snippets #the ot3 #fanfiction #or an attempt at

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r6s-imagines · 4 years

Text

spetsnaz preference >> k.i.a.

•••

requested: no

warnings: gore, angst, light swearing

•••

summary: how do the members of spetsnaz react to watching the life drain from your body?

•••

kapkan

first came the hiss

unidentifiable at first, but present nonetheless

he dismissed it

until he saw you running at him a horrified expression

your small yet built frame managed to shove him away from the exothermic charge detonating right behind him.

boom

maxim kept his ground, and after shielding his eyes he cleared out the enemies that charged the breach.

he checked for your presence, his aged face filled with worry unbeknownst to anyone else

in all his years of hunting, he’s never seen this much blood.

he almost gets sick

you’re on the floor, two of your teammates desperately calling your name above you

he couldn’t tell if you were still alive

his coworkers gave him space

everyone and their dog could tell kapkan had a soft spot for you

once he saw the extent of your injuries...

he still won’t talk about it.

your torso had a large, pulsating chunk blown to pieces

your hairline was bleeding

were you missing a finger?

maxim couldn’t tell through his wavy vision

he held you, careful to not cause any more pain

you didn’t live long enough for any final words

does not attend your funeral

keeps to himself, swearing off of any connections for as long as he lives

“it’s my fault. y/n was so young.”

fuze

a walking stage of grief

which stage? denial

it wasn’t his fault you got in his crossfire!

but if he just made the call out that day...

he reminds himself that you’re in a better place, smiling and waiting for the day you can share the rest of eternity with him.

when someone asks how he feels, he gives a brief shaking of his head as he returns to his gadgets

everyone knows his own cluster charge killed y/n

if fuze was antisocial before, then now he’s a total hermit

“stay clear of cluster charge,” he whispered on the other side of the wall to the terrorists.

y/n was flanking, sneaking up the stairs

neither one knew of the other’s intention

the last thing she heard were the pops of his grenades flying into the room

doc said her jaw was blown clean off

fuze asked to see and was rejected

he’d never seen a body that incapable of holding its own weight

it was as if her spine was missing, doc said. never seen such an absent case of rigor mortis.

oh please, keep telling me how i mangled the love of my life, fuze wanted to exclaim. at least she died peacefully

he knew he was lying to himself

but if he lied to himself just enough, he could believe it didn’t happen

and y/n’s still here

and they’re taking on the world together

but shuhrat will never see those pretty eyes light up again

and she’ll never know of his affections.

tachanka

you and alex were joking before a fight

several innuendos

it was so blatantly obvious he had something for you

you had no idea

you honestly thought his pickup lines were dad jokes

what kind of dad joke says your clothes would look better on his floor?

the attackers began their assault, signaling to alex that it was time to assemble his lmg

he glances at you, sending a wink

“do you want to use my lmg?”

nobody except him is ever allowed to use it

honored, you stepped into the weapon, admiring the details and power that it contained

he referred to you with a nickname you had not known in english, and you didn’t pay attention to it either

his gun is so cool!

so cool, you didn’t notice a flanking attacker aiming straight for your leg

“y/n!”

your kneecap was entirely shattered

your scream of pain instantly alerted everyone to the issue

including the attackers

a frag grenade found itself between your legs

tachanka didn’t want to risk his life saving you

better with one dead than two

did i really just say that?

his tactical mind took over his affectionate side

he can’t look himself in the mirror for weeks

he’s supposed to be fun, loud!

but without you,

there isn’t any more light in his world.

glaz

probably the last person to notice any misfortune

he’s on the sidelines, sweeping the enemy team

BANG! “see that, y/n?”

he went to you for all of his approval

it wasn’t a necessity for him to function

but for him to know you’re there to admire his personal quirks was comforting

“amazing painting, timur!”

“that joke was so funny!”

“your aim is absolutely incredible!”

but this time, nothing

silence

his heart skipped

had his love finally gotten tired of his desperate yearning for approval?

he froze, and for the first time in a long time he missed a grand shot

“y/n?”

he heard it

small, almost unnoticeable.

you groaned weakly through the comms

“injured, it’s really bad,” you croaked

he swore he could hear squishing

“i can’t feel my legs...”

he pretty much fell off of the side of the roof from rappelling down so fast.

he didn’t know your location

he just followed the short trail of blood

no wonder you couldn’t feel your legs

they were locked in a welcome mat

and you somehow managed to drag yourself about a dozen feet to safety

the razors dug into your shins as your vision became hazy

timur was gentle, placing his weapon beside you and whisking you off to an entirely safe location

“y/n...” the steadiest man you’d known was trembling, unsure of where to hold you.

you reached up and placed your hand on his face, thumb rolling over his concealed cheek

he took off his mask for you

“please don’t leave me,” his voice cracks. “we’ll get you help.”

you laughed

then you went still

timur did not let go of your body until you were pried from him post-mission

he carries a photo of you in his pocket on every mission

#r6s #r6s imagine #r6s x reader #siege x reader #siege imagine #spetsnaz x reader #tachanka x reader #tachanka imagine #tachanka #glaz x reader #glaz imagine #glaz #fuze x reader #fuze imagine #fuze #kapkan x reader #kapkan imagine #kapkan #plague writes

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yanderebitch666 · 5 years

Text

Yandere!Hyung Stray Kids: You Escape but They Find You 3 Days Later

[hyung line] [maknae line]

Warning: This post contains yandere elements such as abuse, domestic violence, murder, character death, toxic relationships, and other triggering subjects. If you are uncomfortable with this AU, please avoid this post and this blog, since it’s yandere themed. You can follow my sister blog, @deremashi, where all of my fluffy fanfiction is.

Please take note that I DO NOT THINK THE PEOPLE DEPICTED HERE ARE ACTUALLY LIKE THIS! This is a work of fiction and in an alternate universe. All of the idols here are wonderful people and would never do this. With that being said, please don’t send me hate.

Bang Chan/Christopher Bang:

Chris spent his spare time searching for you. As each day passed, he grew more irritable. He snapped at his group members and called them out on the tiniest of mistakes. He even nearly got into a physical altercation with Changbin before Woojin broke it up. He stormed out of the JYP building and caught a taxi to clear his head. Unfortunately, someone familiar caught his eye.

Chris spotted you rushing into a hotel, obviously not wanting to be seen. He interrupted the ride and paid the driver before exiting the car. He strolled in the building to see you speaking with the clerk, asking for a room. Before the clerk could answer, he draped his arm over your shoulder. Your horrified expression was swiftly covered when he kissed you on the lips.

“Baby, I’ve been looking all over for you. Why did you come here, hm? This hotel is too expensive for us. Here, let’s go somewhere a bit cheaper. We can afford room service too.” Before you could protest, Chris already led you to the door before whispering in your ear. “Play along or I’ll visit your dying relative to finish the job.” You obeyed him, silently weeping as you were taken away once again. Your time as a free person was over.

Lee Know/Lee Minho:

Minho is full of himself and believes that everything should fall on the palm of his hand. He’s a man who hates not getting what he wants. Although, he is a master manipulator. He gave you a couple of days before he acted out his plan. You resided in your sister’s house when you received a phone call from his number. Of course, you hesitated to answer but the persistent calls forced you to give in.

Before you could demand him to stop calling, you overheard hysterical sobbing. It took a few seconds to realize it was Minho’s. When his crying finally eased down, he tearfully expressed how he missed you and wanted to know why you left him. Even though you informed him that he was being too toxic and demanding for you, he still didn’t listen. Suddenly, you could hear the sound of water running. “This is goodbye. Don’t bother coming back. This is all your fault.” The call ended.

Even though you were 40 minutes away from his home, you were optimistic that you’ll make it on time. Others would call you a fool, that they would let the bastard die. However, you lost too many people from suicide and not another life is going to be taken on your watch. You slammed the door open and rushed to the master bedroom’s bathroom. Once you opened the door, Minho’s head already submerged to the water. Without realizing it, you yanked his body from the tub. Before you could begin starting CPR, Minho harshly coughed up water. You were so ecstatic that he was still alive, you squeezed his body with every fiber of your being as if you were afraid of him dissipating into thin air. You begged him to forgive you and promised to never leave his side. Little did you know, Minho smirked through your whole tirade. He had you wrapped around his little finger.

Seo Changbin:

Changbin couldn’t believe it.

Changbin wouldn’t believe it.

There must be another explanation. What if you were kidnapped or worse? He didn’t hesitate to go out to look for you. Seoul is an overly spacious city, but he assumed he could find you somehow. Though, after driving all over the city for dozens of hours, he started to lose hope. Still, he refused to believe that you ran away from him. But where were you? As the hours passed by, Changbin became more mentally disoriented. On the second day, everyone started to look less like humans and more like dark figures. He lumbered down the streets like a zombie, unable to recognize faces because you were the only thing in his mind. However, he noted that the people who stood out to him resembled you. He despised that. How dare these bitches attempt to mimic you? You’re dead after all. That’s when he became a serial killer. He slaughtered every single one of them since he blamed society for your disappearance and death.

A day later, you strode down the street at night to get more food. You were paranoid since there have been reports of a serial killer on the loose. Three people have died in one night and they all shown stab wounds in their face. Thankfully, your brother worked on a plan to sneak you out of the country. As you came out of the store, you felt a chill down your spine. You began walking when you heard footsteps behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see a hooded man in the distance. Unfortunately, no one was around and your heart raced as you frantically texted your brother. You also tried calling, but he wouldn’t answer. It was only a couple of minutes later until the stalker finally caught up to you. He gripped your arm and pushed you into the alley.

To your horror, he pulled out a knife from his pocket as he towered over you. Tears streamed down your face as you beseeched him to spare your life. When he positioned his knife to you, you tightly closed your eyes and guarded your face with your arms. You then realized that the attack never came as you snuck a peek at your attacker. He removed his mask to reveal his face. Dreadfully, it was a tearful Changbin. Without delay, he clenched your body with his muscular arms as tears stained your jacket. “I thought you were dead! I thought they took you! Why did you leave me?! Who took you away?! It was brother, wasn’t it? I’ll fucking kill him!! But that doesn’t matter now. I found you again. Don’t worry, this time I’ll always be by your side. I’ll never let out of my sight again.”

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elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 27/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Ben Solo struggled to suppress the trembling of his hands. He could feel himself cracking under the pressure, gripping onto a fragile equilibrium that inched closer to a meltdown with every passing second.

Syed Ren had already disappeared, nothing but radio silence on her end. No one knew when she would reappear but he already felt like the horsemen of the apocalypse were closing in.

He performed the concert with the certainty that it would be his last. At best, Snoke would assure he did nothing but paperwork for the rest of his days. Worse yet, he would be exiled, or terminated. For someone who had always been the wolf, it felt eerie to suddenly become the prey.

Finally, he spotted Rey in the hall. She was beautiful, all dressed up for the occasion.

He managed to gaze at her through the crowd. Was she here in response to his text message? He had promised her a backstage pass but in light of all they had transpired he wouldn’t dare put her in the eye of the storm. She was more secure where she stood, in the middle of the crowd, in the pit. Skylar had done his job perfectly.

Even from a distance, it was obvious that she was furious. Was Skylar too hard on her, or was it something else? She was clearly looking for a confrontation, if “we need to talk” was anything to go by.

Had she realized that he had stolen her phone and gone through her contacts? He knew that Syed Ren was capable of anything, and with someone like her on the loose, there was no telling what would happen. The uncertainly killed him inside. How could he possibly answer her when he didn’t even know what she wanted?

On stage, he used up every last drop of his being. He screamed his rage and his hatred for his tormentors, his resentment for his parents, and all of the self-loathing that he had felt inside. But above all... thanks to the steadfast support of five capable musicians who were able to improvise anything, he finally sang of his longing for a young English woman with brilliant hazel eyes who had taken his life by storm.

This girl would be the death of him.

It was like she had unleashed the elements against him, first Syed, then Hux and Snoke. She had upended his life and made a pariah of him...but he didn’t regret crossing paths with her. It in was worth the trouble. The smell of her hair and the taste of her skin were worth all the sacrifice.

He was aware he was screwing up his life. He was aware of it, and he didn't regret anything...but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared to death.

After the show, he separated from the others. Shakti, Skylar, Kelsi, Tyra and Saul had put away their instruments, sharing a few beers before finally leaving the venue in two cars to rendezvous at the hotel.

He was alone in the empty concert hall when his phone vibrated.

He picked up.

“Kylo Ren.”

It was Syed.

“Congratulations on the concert, Ben Solo-Skywalker. Everything went well, I hope—or did I miss anything?”

It was the first time she had called him by his full name. That she dared to do so was beyond absolution. This meant war.

He took a deep breath to reign in his anger. “Everything went well. Having fun in Armitage Hux’s bed, aren’t you? You traitorous bitch.”

“So it’s fine when you sleep around, but not me?”

“I don’t care who you fuck. But I do care that you’ve apparently forgotten who your boss is.”

“My boss is Snoke, and as I recall , he’s also yours, Ben.”

He gritted his teeth, on the verge of explosion.

“That’s not my name!”

He heard her laugh in response and felt a pang of hatred. He would kill her for that.

“I'll call you whatever I want, sweetheart,” she retorted. “Or I could scream at you all night. Come out and play, I'm just outside.”

Ben Solo had never been good at containing his emotions, good or bad. And Syed Ren knew it.

She knew exactly what she was doing, while he, as expected, acted on instinct. And by pure instinct, he rushed outside, ready to strangle her with his bare hands.

She wasn’t behind the door, and he took a moment to realize that he was alone. He still had his phone in his hand.

“Show yourself, coward!”

Another little laugh, crystal clear, unbearable, and utterly infuriating.

“Search, good doggie, keep looking!”

He would make her pay for her insolence. He hung up, fingers clenching around invisible prey. He would kill her. And if that wasn’t enough, he would burn her corpse in the fucking car.

The man stood a dozen of meters in front of him, looming against the metal façade of a warehouse. A cigarette glowed between his lips. Ben couldn’t make out his face against the street lamp, but the dim light illuminated his silhouette in the distance.

He drew a knife, the blade springing into his hand with a satisfying click. And then, Syed whistled. In the back of his mind, Ben registered that Syed had whistled to him like she was calling a dog.

He advanced, ready—but instead found himself slumping forward as a sudden blow knocked him off of his feet. His joints failed under the impact, and he fell to his knees on the concrete, suddenly winded.

Someone had just hit him from behind with a baseball bat.

He looked up to meet Syed's gaze, triumphant. She flicked the butt of her cigarette to the ground before slowly crushing it with the sole of her boot.

“Again.”

Skylar Ren came out of the shadows and struck him again, crushing his back with the baseball bat as he fell onto his elbows with a groan. Ben squared his jaw in defiance, fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. He lifted his head to look Syed in the eyes despite the fact that his vision was red and clouded with tears and pain.

“Filthy traitors, I’ll kill you both!” he hissed, attempting to regain his breath.

Syed crouched down to grab his chin in his her hand, an almost tender gesture if it hadn’t been so lethal. In her right fist, the knife blade shone menacingly.

“Enough lip service, Ben Solo. What you’re going to do is call your girlfriend and ask her to join us.”

His expression shifted instantly,

the pure hatred that distorted his features disappeared, suddenly giving way to a fresh wave of horror.

“What do you want...with Rey?” He whispered breathlessly.

“I ask the questions here,” Syed spat. “Call her, now!”

He clenched his teeth and refused to obey, even as Syed slapped him across his face with the handle of her knife. A streak of blood smeared his eyebrow, and she raised her hand to strike again—

“Hey bitch, I’m already here!” Rey yelled from behind.

Syed straightened, ready to make good on her promise, but Rey was faster. In one swift move she aimed the canister and pressed down firmly, spraying her opponents with a cloud of bear spray.

Skylar and Syed fell to the ground, half-blind and gasping for air. They rubbed at their burning eyes in vain, their flailing limbs groping blindly as they gasped for painful lungfuls of air between a stream of breathless curses. By the end they were little more than a boneless heap on the concrete.

Syed made a futile attempt to grab her knife, which Rey kicked even further out of reach.

As Syed’s hand clawed around the empty air, she raised her bloodshot eyes from a pair of high heeled boots to see the young woman, who was watching her with pursed lips.

A metallic sound caught her attention, and she turned her trembling head just enough to realize that Rey was holding a bullet under her nose.

“This is the bullet that you used to save my life. By sparing you now, I consider us even. Don’t ever come near me again, bitch.”

Syed and Ben raised the heads at the same time, clearly surprised. Syed, despite being out of breath from the coughing, managed to croak a response.

“You...knew?”

“I’m not entirely stupid, Syed Ren. I saw your car when we went hiking. I put two and two together—I knew you were following me.”

Syed wanted to laugh. Maybe it was a nervous laugh, a laugh of hatred, or disgust...she should have used that bullet correctly when she had the chance. Missed opportunities, and all that. She could barely think as another fit of coughing overcame her.

Rey slipped her arm under Ben's shoulder and helped him to his feet.

“Come on, that looks like it hurts. Can you walk?”

He nodded with a grimace.

Dragging Ben more so than walking with him, she crossed the parking in the direction of the cars.

Ben made a gesture in the direction of his pickup.

“Let's take it. My car....it’s fa—faster,” he managed to whisper hoarsely.

“No, it's dead,” Rey replied, “Syed slashed your tires earlier—we need to take mine.”

Ben had no answer, and stumbled, leaning on Rey as his knees tried not to buckle under his own weight, until they reached the Millennium Falcon.

Ben stopped abruptly.

“No. No, no, no. I’m not going in there.”

Rey wasn't in the mood; she let go of him and unlocked the door.

“Don’t you dare start with your shit, Kylo fucking Ren, get in!”

But Ben, despite being bent over in pain, taking in trouble on his legs, took more weight on his own legs to stand up straight. His face darkened.

“I’m not getting in that car! I’d rather die out here!”

Rey seriously contemplated re-fracturing his knees.

“Okay, really? 'Cause we will die out here! I can leave you alone with your friends, who I just bear sprayed in the face, I’m sure they’d be happy to finish the job!”

She lowered her arms, suddenly tired.

“Bloody hell. Do whatever you want. But if you don’t get in this car now, don’t even attempt to call me back because we’re through. I’ve had enough of your tricks.”

She sat in the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and started the engine. Ben remained standing, in an effort to mask the true extent of his pain...finally, without a word, he opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat.

Rey drove off.

“Where are we going?” He asked eventually, his voice broken.

“I don’t know, my campsite? I have a first aid kit, I can patch you up a little...unless you prefer a hospital?”

“No—no hospital!”

“Okay, back to square one. Do you want to tell me what your problem is, exactly?”

Ben shrugged, preferring not to respond. With one hand, he touched his wound on the eyebrow, only to realize that he was bleeding.

“You don't have a tissues, do you?”

“In the glovebox.”

Rey was watching the road, the sharp curves illuminated only her headlights, but she glanced now and then at Ben. He was apparently crouched in front the open glovebox, in the search of the tissue box.

Instead he held in his had an envelope, with something scribbled on one side. Life is too short to spend wallowing in tears.

She blushed, and stared at the road before her; hoping that he wouldn’t ask her about it. Hoping that he wouldn’t find it funny. She was far too exhausted to explain what the words meant to her.

But he was blushing too, as much as he tried to hide it. She saw the red creeping up his ears, though his face remained impassive. He pushed the envelope to the side, searching once more, and suddenly he stilled.

Slowly withdrawing his hand, he looked incredulously at the little red toy.

He opened the mouth, moving his lips silently as though trying speak without words. His face was pallid.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” She asked worriedly.

“Where...” he stammered at last, “where did you find that?”

“In between the cushions of the back seat. You’ve...you’ve lost a lot of color, are you sure you're okay?”

Pale or not, his eyes were bloodshot red. Rey noticed him wiping a tear with the back of his hand. He was in a difficult place, that awful crevice between physical and emotional pain. Suddenly he looked frighteningly vulnerable.

In a moment of tenderness, she kept one hand on the steering wheel and reached out with the other to hold his hand.

“Hey,” she whispered. “We're almost here. I think you and I have a lot to share.”

He didn’t answer. She was asking for things he had never told anyone. Not to Hux, even when they still got along, neither to Syed, nor to anyone else in the band. Not even to Leia, his own mother.

The secrets between him and his father Han, before he was even Ben Solo. When he was just a small boy with a mop of curly hair that failed to hide his ears, high upon the Denver military base, miserably watching his family leave on deployment after deployment. And it was often. He had the impression of having spent his childhood on the look out, patiently awaiting their return, so the the feeling of abandonment would stop consuming him.

Rey slowed down as they arrived at the campsite. All was dark and silent, with the exception of a light illuminating the living quarters. She drove past the occupied units, some of which had the luxury of electricity, and sank deeper under the trees to reach the square lawn surrounded by pine trees where she had set up her tent earlier.

“Okay,” she said, placing her hands on her temples. “Let’s take care of you first.”

Ben climbed out of the car with a groan, while that Rey rummaged in the back with a lantern to find the first aid kit.

She put the lamp on the hood of the Falcon Millenium, and pulled a bottle of disinfectant out of a telltale red case.

“Sit here,” she said, motioning to the car.

“On the hood?”

“Yes, sadly I don’t have a hospital bed, so we’ll have to make do.”

He sat down wordlessly, stifling a groan. Rey, though her fingers were trembling, tried to keep her voice upbeat to encourage him.

“Okay, so we’ll start by disinfecting that.”

She poured a few drops of alcohol on a cotton ball and dabbed it gently on Ben’s eyebrow. He shuddered, probably due to the sting, but refrained from any comments. With soft movements, she used the same piece of cotton to clean the dried blood around the wound.

A bruise was already forming around his right eye, tinging his eyelid with purple.

#reylo #fanfiction #Modern AU #Scenic Route

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vitanes · 5 years

Text

say it’s okay when it’s not

chapter 9: boys will be boys

One with a weird dream, PE lesson, bruises and Lucas waiting things out until it’s too late.

(a/n: this chapter contains heavy homophobia)

His legs keep moving and his muscles are straining but Lucas can’t stop. He’s out of breath, the sweat is rolling down his neck and back, plastering his hair to his forehead and blurring his vision. His heart is beating so loudly it’s all he can hear.

He has to go faster, has to go forward even though he doesn’t know why. He can feel blood in his mouth and his whole body is trembling. He looks down and his shoes are gone completely. There are wounds all over his feet, each step damaging the skin further.

He needs to speed up.

Lucas starts coughing, his whole body shaking with the movement and he trips over his own feet. He falls down and nearly smashes his face against the ground, but he reaches out his hands in the last second. Lucas screams between his coughs, the skin of the heels of his palms ripping. He looks at the blood seeping out of the cuts, cuts that the gravel from the ground has already slipped in.

His hands are black and red and burning.

“Look at you, how pathetic.” Lucas looks up and his eyes widen in shock when he notices Chloé hovering above him with a wicked grin stretching her features.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas croaks out. It feels as though he was speaking through dozen of razors in his throat.

The grin disappears from Chloé’s face and she tilts her head to the side with a snarl. “Too late,” she says and Lucas notices something glinting in one of her palms. She steps closer and reveals a knife. Lucas gasps, trying to move away from her. His limbs are frozen in place. “You deserve to die.” She’s standing right above his head, raising the knife up. Lucas closes his eyes, his chin wobbling in fear. She’s going to kill him and he can’t do anything but wait for it.

There’s a loaded moment, full of anticipation, and then a loud thud close to Lucas. A thud that makes the air shift. He blinks his eyes open and coughs through the dust.

A piano has crashed mere centimetres from where he’s lying. At first glance, it seems as if there’s no remaining trace of Chloé and Lucas briefly wonders whether she’s transformed. Then, he sees a bloody forearm sticking out from under the piano, the palm weakly clutching on the knife and he lets out a shaky breath.

Lucas can finally move so he stands up, shaking the dust off himself. He comes up to the piano. Its keys have moved after the fall and some of the parts are cracked, but Lucas thinks there’s some odd beauty in it.

He lets his dirty hands touch the piano and with a shuddering sigh, his fingers start playing notes he knows deep in his bones. He allows the familiar tune to shelter him from each and every danger in the world. He doesn’t have to run anymore, he can just stay here forever. Play over Chloé’s dead body.

***

Lucas’ eyes flutter open and he feels sticky from sweat. The aftertaste of his fucked up dream is making him uneasy. There’s pain shooting up from his right palm and he realises it’s been curled up into a fist. It’ll be a miracle for his fingers to finally heal considering how much strain he puts them through. He relaxes his hand and drags his other one over his face.

He really dreamed of Chloé being crushed by a piano. That’s what really happened in his head. Sweet.

Lucas groans and reaches for his phone laying on the nightstand. It’s after ten. He wonders when Eliott left. Whether it was when Lucas fell asleep or maybe in the early morning.

All at once their whole conversation flashes through his mind and he leans back against his pillow. There’s another, a foreign smell on his sheets and for some reason it makes his stomach flutter. Lucas pushes the sensation aside.

A lot happened, a lot was said. They’ve been friends for such a short period of time, but Lucas already feels awfully close to Eliott. He isn’t as scared to share his secrets, to be vulnerable. And maybe Eliott isn’t either. The thing they share, it’s fresh and easily breakable, but Lucas wouldn’t like to lose it. He can see Eliott in his future the same way he sees Yann and the rest of his friends. There’s something about their friendship that he wants to keep to himself, though. A selfish thing to say, but it’s true. He doesn’t want Eliott being open and honest with anyone else as he is with Lucas because Lucas doesn’t think he could be this way with anyone else aside from Eliott. He’s open with Yann, to some extent, but it’s different. And it scares Lucas, this new territory, the kind of friendship he can’t compare to any other one he’s ever had, but at the same time, he can’t get enough of. He hopes with his whole being that it’s mutual. That Eliott finds solace in Lucas’ presence, this quiet no one else can provide.

Getting lost in the thought regarding his friendship with Eliott, for a second Lucas can forget about what happened at school and what is yet to come. In the meantime, he can busy himself with more mundane things. Things that maybe in the future will help feel whole.

Lucas gets out of the bed and sluggishly leaves his room to go to the bathroom. He stops halfway through his path when he hears laughs coming from the kitchen and squints. He’s about to check it before he remembers he desperately needs to empty his bladder.

Once he’s out of the bathroom, the noises are still there and he’s completely confused because he knows all of these voices separately, but he can’t connect the dots on why they are in one place.

He steps towards the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks on the threshold when he sees Eliott sitting by the kitchen table with Manon while Mika is making coffee. All of them are chatting, munching on something and looking comfortable. Eliott doesn’t look out of place and that’s what hits Lucas the most. It’s confusing.

Eliott is the first one to have his eyes drift to Lucas and momentarily widen in shock before getting back to normal. He nods at Lucas, smiling softly and Lucas can feel his cheeks getting warm under his gaze.

He steps into the kitchen, going straight for one of the mugs Mika has just poured coffee into. “Morning,” he says, wrapping his hands around the mug to get some of its warmth to himself.

Mika looks at him in shock and Lucas hears Manon snorting from her place.

“Look at him, oversleeping, leaving his guest alone and stealing what isn’t his. Not that we don’t like you, quite the opposite.” The last part is said towards Eliott and Lucas raises one of his eyebrows.

“Stop trying to flirt with my guest,” Lucas says and Mika huffs.

“I’m not trying, I am flirting with him. If not me then who?”

Lucas rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure there are many other candidates,” Manon cuts in, her tone amused and Lucas glances towards Eliott who seems flustered all of sudden.

“I’m so sorry for oversleeping and leaving you with these hyenas,” Lucas says apologetically. He wouldn’t have overslept if he had known Eliott wasn’t leaving, but that’s beyond the point.

“Hey, there,” Mika says, offended, and knocks his shoulder against Lucas’.

“I don’t mind, it was fun,” Eliott says genuinely, smiling and Lucas involuntarily grins back at him, completely forgetting about Mika and Manon being there at all.

“You know what, I think I’m going to the living room,” Manon announces and it makes Lucas snap out of it and move his eyes towards her, puzzled. She’s sending Mika meaningful looks and Lucas gazes at him instead. Mika’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion until he catches Lucas’ eye and a knowing glint appears in his own.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than go to the living room with you and you only.” He winks at no one in particular, grabs two mugs of coffee and exits the kitchen, his hips swinging. Manon follows him soon after and Lucas is just so perplexed. He’s happy to find out Eliott doesn’t look any less lost than him.

Lucas sits in the place Manon was occupying earlier and puts the mug down.

“I didn’t think you’d stay,” he mumbles, staring straight into his coffee.

“You asked me to, didn’t you?” Eliott asks, his tone soft. Lucas looks up at him and finds him already looking back.

“Sorry for not letting you go home,” Lucas says, embarrassed and Eliott cocks an eyebrow.

“If I didn’t want to be here, I’d have left. Let’s say I was selfish and wanted to hang out with you a little longer.” He looks sheepish and Lucas bites on his bottom lip.

Lucas remembers how much fun they had when he stayed the night and then spent the whole day at Eliott’s. Lucas can see the memories reflecting in Eliott’s eyes so clearly. He must be thinking the same.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Lucas asks, his finger circling the brim of the mug.

Eliott’s mouth twitches and he nods.

***

Maybe shutting himself in the flat for the weekend seemed like a good idea at first, same with forgetting about everything going around, but thanks to it he’s completely unprepared when he eventually opens his Instagram on Monday and sees his notifications flooded. He’s been tagged in many nasty posts, people have messaged him things that make him feel sick and overall it’s not the greatest start of the day. He thinks he should delete his account or create another one, but after a moment he realises that he doesn’t want people trying to reach him in a different way. Once again, his way of ignoring problems until they disappear wins over anything else and he just tries to block as many people as possible.

Of course, the things he reads make his skin crawl. The amount of disgust, mockery, and threats is at times overwhelming and for a good moment Lucas ponders on whether going to school isn’t too dangerous, but what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger, right?

Well, he has a freak out before going to school and he pukes twice. So really, all that’s left is facing the reality.

He pulls his hood up and avoids any and all eye contact until he reaches his friends. It’s weird to see them again after everything he said last time. They all tried to get to him over the weekend, Yann being the most persistent, but Lucas simply said that he needed some time and that he’d be okay. He apologised for lashing out on them and asked Eliott to let them know all was good. He promised he would and Lucas trusted him.

“Hey,” Lucas says, coming up to them. It’s hard to look any of them in the eye so he settles on Eliott as he’s the only one Lucas doesn’t feel as guilty about anymore.

The guys greet him and Lucas would say they are acting normally, but there’s an underlying tension that he can’t shake off.

“I swear to God, if I knew who started this whole thing,” Arthur says suddenly, looking rather angry. “The things I’ve seen since the posters were hung are awful. I know you said we shouldn’t go to the principal but we need to do something. We can’t let all of that just go on.”

Lucas shrugs, swallowing over the lump in his throat. “It’ll be okay,” he says despite knowing better. But he doesn’t want them to think about it more than necessary.

“No, it won’t,” Arthur says through gritted teeth. Lucas remembers what Eliott told him on Friday, that Arthur is blaming himself and looking at it now, Lucas sees it. It’s apparent in everything he says and does. They really need to talk sooner or later. Lucas would prefer later since he hates deep talks and this one surely would count as one.

“Seriously, let it go. At least for now. I don’t want to make any more noise around it. Maybe it’ll die down naturally.” Lucas can’t think about the whole issue in its entirety, it makes his breathing shallow. He still hasn’t gotten around to realising he’s been outed and it’s not a dream. He’s pretty deep in denial, even if he acknowledges the situation it doesn’t feel real. He can’t get used to it. And getting deeper into this whole thing would only fuck him over further. He needs to close it in a cage and try to contain it. Damage control. Doing something about the nasty people is the opposite of what he considers being the best here.

“But–“

“I need to focus on something else or it’ll kill me,” Lucas says honestly, looking Arthur deep in the eyes and he can feel Yann inching closer to him, offering Lucas comfort that he isn’t sure he deserves. “Please.”

“Okay, but if something happens we aren’t going to leave it alone,” Yann says before Arthur can open his mouth. Lucas glances towards him and nods. He can’t do anything else because he isn’t in the mood for fighting.

The first bell rings and the school week starts.

***

Lucas has been changing in the locker room when he knows the other guys are there. He makes sure everyone has already gone to the gym before he enters. Sure, he’s late to each PE class now, but at least all he’s gotten from them are some dirty looks. In his whole strategy, though, what he didn’t predict was that one of them would come into the locker room for something when he was there on Tuesday.

He’s frozen in place, his shirt halfway pulled on and the other guy doesn’t move for a second as well. He must have thought they scared him off completely. Lucas gulps and the guy gets in the motion. He reaches into his backpack, pulls something out of it and leaves the locker room. But Lucas knows he will tell the rest and they will know he’s been invading their space.

Once he’s changed with his slightly shaky hands, he goes to the gym and all of the boys in his class look towards him, their eyes narrowed.

“Lallemant, late again? Next time you’re running laps for punishment. Now, join the group,” the teacher instructs him. He doesn’t look as if he cared that much, his eyes barely glossing over Lucas, but his words are not to be ignored. Maybe Lucas will just start changing in the bathroom.

Rather hesitantly, Lucas joins the group. They must have started warming up not so long ago and Lucas doesn’t mind it as much. He doesn’t have to interact with them during this part. Of course, before the truth about him came out, some of the boys would come up to him, chat with him or do some exercises together. But now it’s all in the past. They are treating him as some sort of disease, much more than people in other classes and Lucas wonders why’s that so. Why are they so aggressive here, but not in biology or French classes he shares with some of them.

After warming up usually come team games and Lucas can start minding his own business. The teacher will either tell him to go outside and run or to sit on the bench and observe. Lucas can’t imagine how the situation would look if his hand wasn’t injured and he could participate. No one would be pleased about having him on their team, that’s for sure.

“We’re playing dodgeball today. You know the rules. Divide yourself into two groups. Lallemant, how’s your hand?” the teacher asks and Lucas can feel pairs of eyes boring in the side of his face.

“Still bad.” It’s not like the guy is an idiot, he should know broken fingers don’t heal in less than two weeks.

“So you’re on the bench. Watch them and take notes,” he says and with the last nod, goes back to where he’s been sitting before. What kind of notes can he take during a game of dodgeball?

Lucas can’t hide his disappointment. When he’s told to go running, he usually stays longer and then can go back to change when the boys are already gone. He’ll have to make up an excuse as to why he isn’t coming back with them to the locker room now. Maybe he’ll offer to clear things up?

He hates that he’s been specifically told to watch them since he knows how allergic they can be to phrases like that and as they know he’s still been changing in the locker room, that can only make things worse.

Lucas sits down, defeat painted all over his features. He looks down on his lap, not wanting to give them more reasons to hate him.

He hears in the distance that the game started and he places his chin on the heels of his palms, his elbows digging into his thighs.

Lucas wishes he was allowed to take his phone here or whatever else so he wouldn’t get bored or lost in his thoughts so easily. The former always affects his performance during other lessons and the latter isn’t good for him in general. Especially that he’s been stuck in his head more often than not.

The posters have disappeared from the halls, no one has called him to the principal’s office, but the fear of things blowing up is still here. Something looming right behind his shoulder. People keep snickering or calling him slurs wherever he turns and he’s stopped checking his Instagram. It’s tiring and he isn’t sure how much longer he can endure it. He has troubles sleeping, he’s had them for months, really, and it’s obviously unhealthy. It’s a miracle for him to get a good night’s sleep.

His father has disappeared and Lucas is starting to worry about paying rent again. People around him have been feeding him without making a fuss out of it, but he can’t keep living off of them. Maybe he should look for a job, but who is going to hire a sixteen-year-old? Especially somewhere where he’d get enough money to live and the place wouldn’t be shady. Perhaps he should start looking at the legal actions he could take against his father, but that scares him as well. He doesn’t want to be moved to another home since he’s still a minor. Even without being outed, there are so many things placed on his shoulders and he feels utterly helpless.

Something hits Lucas in the face, stopping his train of thought, and the force of it knocks the wind out of him. His head is pushed against the wall behind and he can feel the pain blooming at the back of his skull, but it’s overshadowed by the ache in his nose and eye.

The ball falls to the ground and Lucas looks down in shock. He can feel something wet dripping from his nose and soon after he sees his blood over his palms and floor. He hears people chuckling through the daze in his head and he looks up.

The guy who said that he likes throwing the balls hard is currently sporting a satisfied smirk.

“Oops,” he lets out, picking up the ball that has rolled away from Lucas. Most of the boys don’t seem apologetic either. More like they knew and Lucas was the only one not let in the joke.

The blood is still running from his nose and he can’t move. He can feel his left eye swelling and it’s hard to blink to stop the tears.

“Do you guys not know how to properly aim? Jesus Christ,” the teacher says, coming up to paralysed Lucas. He holds out a tissue to him and Lucas takes it with trembling fingers. He presses it to his nose and can feel how quickly the blood seeps through it. “I’m going to take you to the nurse. And you,” he points his finger at the rest of the class, “clean this mess up.” He nods at the small puddle of blood between Lucas’ legs.

The teacher hauls Lucas up by his shoulder after he notices how unresponsive he is and they go to the nurse.

“Let’s hope you didn’t break another bone,” he jokes as they are passing the halls. Lucas is barely able to catch up with him, his head dizzy. Lucas doesn’t think his nose is broken, but he didn’t know his fingers were until the doctor told him so. “Accidents like that happen during PE lessons. Sucks it happened when you weren’t playing.” The man chuckles. “But boys will be boys, right?” he asks, this time looking towards Lucas, shaking his head with an almost fond expression on his face.

Lucas was just hit with a ball for being gay because boys will be boys. Sickening.

They get to the nurse, she takes one look at him, at the teacher and asks, “The ball must have gotten it worse, huh?” sharing a laugh with the man.

“Wrap him up and send him back,” the teacher says, reaching for the doorknob.

“Will do!” the nurse exclaims, waving him away.

Lucas is supposed to feel safe with these people, teachers, and other school staff but after this whole exchange? There’s nothing more he wants to do than never have to interact with them again.

She sits him down, takes care of his bleeding nose, assures him it’s not broken and puts some cream over the swelling. After that, she checks him for concussion, but apparently, there’s none(unlike the last time he landed here). It doesn’t take her even ten minutes, Lucas knows because he’s been looking at the clock on the wall. She doesn’t ask him any questions.

“All good,” she says after presumably having looked over everything. She writes his information into her computer and then, “Go back to the gym. You should be fine for the rest of the day, but if you feel any dizziness or more pain, come right back, okay? Noses like to be dramatic. Lots of blood but so little damage.”

Lucas wordlessly agrees with her and leaves the office with a quiet thank you. He doesn’t go back to the gym, taking his steps to the bathroom instead. He washes his hands to the point his skin feels raw. Lucas looks at his reflection and lets out a loud breath. His eye and nose are bruised and swollen. It isn’t just from an accidental throw during the game of dodgeball. No, he was hurt on purpose because he didn’t listen; because he kept changing in the locker room he wasn’t welcome in anymore. He reaches his hand up and touches his eyelid. Lucas hisses when the pain registers.

He’s too scared to face the world again, too shaky to deal with people. He locks himself in a cubicle and sits on the toilet lid, pulling his legs to his chest.

He doesn’t know when he starts crying, but once he does he can’t stop. His breaths come out harsh, especially since there are cotton balls stuffed in his nose and for a moment he thinks he may choke on his snot and spit. For a moment he thinks that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Lucas briefly opens his eyes and they land on the wall of the cubicle. It doesn’t make him stop crying immediately, but Eliott’s old drawings comfort him. It’s almost like he is there with him. What really does it for him, though, is when his eyes slip further down and he notices more drawings. He wipes his face and crouches down to get a better look.

He doesn’t know how old they are nor does he know whether they were done all at once. However, with the number of raccoons and hedgehogs, Lucas knows Eliott drew them for him and him only to see. It’s mostly images of them hanging out, eating something, playing games, sitting with other silhouettes around them, smoking, looking at the stars. One even shows them laying on a bed together and Lucas thinks, tracing his fingers over the lines, that maybe this one is the newest. There’s a bubble over raccoon’s head with ‘I’m with you’ written in it and Lucas bites down on his lip, hard. If he hadn’t left his phone in the locker room, he’d take a picture of the wall.

The drawings show them in multiple universes, doing the most mundane things and maybe that’s what hits Lucas the most. Even the normal stuff feels special with Eliott. Even playing a video game means something. This time Lucas chokes up on a laugh. He doesn’t know if Eliott expected him to find the doodles, but he’s glad he did, especially in a moment like this.

***

Please, don’t say anything about my face, please, just ignore it.

“Holy fuck, what happened to your face?!” Basile exclaims the moment he looks up at Lucas.

After all of them notice, Lucas sees that Yann is clenching his jaw, Arthur’s gaze is murderous and Eliott is holding his fork so tightly his knuckles turn white.

Lucas has spent a good hour in that cubicle, skipping his next lesson. He calmed down a little and eventually went to the locker room to take his things. Thankfully no one has noticed him and he was ready to call it a day. But he couldn’t. If he wants to pass this year, he can’t afford skipping any more lessons. So he forced himself to stay. Coming to the cafeteria, dealing with people looking at him, was inevitable, but he really doesn’t want to dwell on it.

“Dodgeball,” he says, his tone dismissive. He doesn’t look at any of them because he doesn’t want to be called out on his bullshit. Although, technically he isn’t lying.

“Lucas, we all damn well know you can’t play it with your hand,” Yann says darkly.

“I wasn’t. The ball went off the court.” He shrugs. Under the table, Lucas’ left hand grips his knee to keep him grounded.

“Lucas, be honest,” Yann pleads. A funny thing about best friends is that they see right through you. It can be good in some cases, but in others it becomes annoying.

“Jerks from my PE class told me to stop changing in the locker room. I was still sneaking in there to do so. They found out and had their revenge,” Lucas mutters, his voice composed.

“And the teacher?” Arthur asks adamantly.

“Said that that’s how it is during PE.”

“Man, that’s so fucked up. He should have sent them to the principal for that,” Basile whines, filling his mouth with food.

“He didn’t know they did it on purpose,” Lucas argues, his eyes downcast.

“You didn’t tell him they did,” Eliott says and Lucas looks up at him. He’s angry, it’s apparent in his tensed posture and clouded eyes. Lucas isn’t sure if a part of this anger isn’t aimed at him.

“It’d get worse if I ratted them out,” he reasons, saying it to the whole table but keeping his gaze on Eliott.

“You know you’re giving them permission by not telling anyone? It’ll get worse,” Eliott says and something in his voice tells Lucas he’s speaking from experience. No, Lucas knows he is. After what he shared with him on Friday, after assuring Lucas he wouldn’t let him make the same mistakes as he did.

But aren’t those mistakes Lucas’ to make? Things will get bad one way or another.

“I’ll deal with it. Stay low,” Lucas says, looking directly at Eliott and sees him becoming frustrated with Lucas’ every word. It looks like he wants to say something more, but the bell interrupts him. Lucas looks over the table. The guys have finished their food in the time he wasn’t there.

“We will talk about it later,” Yann says, standing up and the rest, aside from Eliott who’s still staring at Lucas, follow. Yann, Basile, and Arthur reluctantly leave all the while Lucas stays in his place, pierced by Eliott’s gaze. The guys must feel there’s some unfinished business if they aren’t calling them to go together.

“Lucas, they hurt you. It’s physical,” Eliott says once they are the only ones sitting by the table. His voice is filled with sadness. “You could report them. You have the right to.”

“It could have happened even if I wasn’t gay. It actually did happen. A couple of weeks ago I got hit with a ball in the head during a game. Come on,” Lucas replies, his voice strained. He doesn’t want Eliott being mad at him. He’s exhausted enough.

“But that wasn’t because of your sexuality.”

“I’ll report them if it happens again, okay?” Lucas reaches out his healthy hand to grasp Eliott’s and make Eliott loosen the grip on his fork. “After that happened… I went to the toilet. Had a mini breakdown,” he admits quietly. “I… thank you for the drawings,” he whispers and squeezes Eliott’s palm.

Eliott clears his throat, obviously caught off guard and looks to the side. He lets go of the fork and wraps his fingers around Lucas’. He doesn’t need to say anything. They both know how much it means to them.

***

It’s with a lot of hesitation that Lucas comes into the flat. The boys have already pestered him about the situation and he knows how passionate Mika can be. Unlike Manon, who’s also secretive and won’t bother him if he says so, Mika has that way of caring that he will try to get under your skin. That’s why he let Eliott in last Friday.

Lucas toes off his shoes, hangs his jacket and goes to the living room. Manon seems to be napping on the couch and Mika is reading a magazine on one of the armchairs.

Fine, let’s get over it.

Lucas plops down on the second armchair and pulls out his phone. His stomach growls with hunger. He needs to eat something, but first, he has to sit down for a couple of minutes.

“Wow,” Mika lets out and Lucas glances up at him. Mika juts his chin out. “What happened?”

Lucas gulps. “PE. Dodgeball.”

Mika blinks a couple of times in confusion. “Again?” He frowns. There’s something inexplicable in his eyes that Lucas can’t grasp. He nods. Mika stares at him for a long moment, giving Lucas some time to maybe say something, but Lucas stays quiet. “Okay,” Mika eventually whispers and sends Lucas a sad smile before getting back to his magazine.

It’s unusual and Lucas takes a moment to really realise what has just happened. Mika doesn’t look up at him up until Lucas stands up and leaves for the kitchen. But he could swear he feels a pair of eyes following his back as he’s stepping out of the room.

***

Lucas checks his bank account on Wednesday and much to his surprise, he sees a new sum transferred. He checks it twice, just to make sure it’s not an error, but it’s there. It’s no more or less than his father has been transferring him ever since he moved out, just enough for rent and life. His texts and calls to his father are still unanswered on his phone, but the money is there.

Lucas kind of wants to cry. He doesn’t know what changed his father’s mind. Maybe he got scared Lucas would really take it to the court, or he felt sorry for him.

Perhaps his transfers are set up to be sent monthly and he’s forgotten to cancel them. Whatever it may be, Lucas won’t be homeless. This time he will be able to pay his rent without stress. Fuck.

“Do you need some ice for that?” His head snaps up to see Lisa standing by the door. Oh, yeah, his face. She hasn’t seen it yesterday.

“No, I’m good,” he says, hoping his expression doesn’t say otherwise. She simply nods and sits across from him by the kitchen table.

“What happened?”

“I’ve just found out my father transferred me money,” he says excitedly as he starts typing a message to the group chat to let his friends know. At least they won’t have to worry about that.

“No, I mean with that.” She pokes him in his swollen eyelid and he flinches away from her touch.

“PE was a bitch.” She raises one of her eyebrows at him.

“Hard to believe after that thing.” Lisa nods towards his bandaged hand. She may be quiet and come off as not caring, not in the way Mika and Manon are, but she’s perceptive. She sees things, draws her own conclusions and keeps them to herself. Most of the time. “I saw that post,” she deadpans. She’s the first one out of his flatmates to confront him about it. Lisa squints at him. “Is it connected?”

“No,” he lies and she looks at him with a bored expression.

“Suuure,” she draws out, rolling her eyes. “Don’t try to bullshit someone who’s been bullshitting half of her life, okay? Did it work on Mika?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says and Lisa looks at him doubtfully. This time he isn’t lying. He was surprised as well. Lucas thought he’d be the first one to freak out, but his reaction was mild.

“Weird,” Lisa says and Lucas nods in agreement. “But I know you’re lying. Stop that.”

“I just don’t feel like talking about it again,” he replies, tired. He drags a hand over his face, ignoring the pain it causes.

“You’ll have to at some point. Besides, you know I wouldn’t nag you. Should have said yes. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”

“Sorry.” He is, he really is. It feels like he’s been disappointing people left and right with how he’s handling this situation.

Lisa sighs. “No offense, but you’re a disaster. Our disaster, but still. I guess I’ll have to talk with Mika. Stage an intervention or something.” She props her chin on her palm. She looks like it’s the last thing she wants to do.

“You’re acting like you’re my parents,” Lucas says.

“If your parents aren’t around to do that stuff for you, it’s our role. Simple.”

Lisa may not know it, but what she’s just uttered makes Lucas’s guts churn. It’s true. His parents aren’t in the picture. And if not for these people, he wouldn’t have any adults supporting him the way he needs it. They were also providing him with food and shelter when he couldn’t do it himself, even though they didn’t have to. They could have just thrown him away. How fucked up is that a sixteen-year-old finds two twenty-somethings caring for him the way his parents should? Well, maybe it’s unfair to think so. His mother has been trying to contact him. Maybe she’d be able to take care of him if only Lucas gave her a chance.

“Don’t tell him about anything. Not yet, okay? Let me–“

“Handle it? The same way it was with rent? And then you got us worried sick. Great.” For the way she talks with so little emotion in her voice, her words shouldn’t have much impact on Lucas and yet, there he is.

“Please,” he says. “I’ll tell him when the right time comes.”

“Fine, but don’t let it be after the worst happens, okay?” Lisa asks, her eyes full of concern.

“I promise.”

***

For the next two days, Lucas pretty much tries to ignore people’s stares. He waves his friends off when they try to start the topic again. He doesn’t want them to worry. He knows they do anyway, but if he doesn’t make a big deal out of this situation they’ll let him have it.

People at school aren’t subtle. They haven’t been ever since this whole thing came out, but now as he has bruises all over his face, they just can’t take their eyes off Lucas. Imane was right, about feeling like a zoo exhibit. He’s sure someone has even taken a picture or two. Who knows maybe there’s something new on Instagram. He hasn’t checked his account in the past few days as not to add fuel to the fire. Lucas is distressed enough without knowing whether people are still mockingly asking him for blow jobs or making other nasty memes.

He catches the boys from his PE class looking, but they don’t do anything to him.

That is until Friday comes around and he’s pinned up against a wall by the guy who threw the ball at him. He’s got an ugly smile stretching his lips and he’s holding Lucas up by the collar of his shirt. Some of the other boys he recognises are there, too. As are other people from school.

Lucas was just going from one class to another when he was suddenly jumped. No protection, no preparation. And he doesn’t know what’s going to happen now. He hasn’t even attended the last PE lesson and he thought it’d make things better.

“Wow, you look like shit,” the guy spits out into Lucas’ face. If Lucas had guts he’d say ‘gee, I wonder whose fault it is’, but as he is now, all he can do is stare with wide eyes and hope he’ll be left alone. “Ugly colours. We should make it purple again, right?” he throws over his shoulder and his friends nod. Lucas notices that more people have started gathering around and hopes someone will help him out.

“Let me go,” Lucas lets out weekly, struggling to get out of the grip. It must be a bad thing to do because the guy’s face shifts into one of anger. Lucas stops moving at once.

“I saw you holding hands with your boyfriend on Tuesday in the cafeteria. Gross. That will teach you to never do it again,” the guy mutters into Lucas’ ear and lands the first blow right in the middle of Lucas’ stomach, making him gasps loudly.

There’s some commotion around but Lucas can barely see it when another hit connects with his abdomen. And another one.

He opens his eyes when he’s dropped to the ground and sees some people holding up their phones. Quite a crowd is surrounding them and, looking at the faces of the boys, Lucas assumes they aren’t done. He’s proven right when all of them step closer and start kicking him. In the last moment does he manage to hide his head between his arms and then all he can feel is pain.

Lucas has been in pain for so long, all kinds of pain but never has he experienced it that intensively, in such amount it’s unbearable. They aren’t holding back with the way they are kicking. Like animals. And Lucas wonders why he didn’t do anything sooner, when everyone was telling him to.

He may be screaming for help, he doesn’t know. For the longest time no one answers, he’s being kicked all over his body and despite there being so many people watching the show, no one bothers to say no.

Lucas feels so powerless and each kick makes him see the stars.

Right before it all ends, one of the boys tries to pry his arms away from his head and Lucas is so fucking scared because he knows how easily it’d go from there. He holds on tighter until there are no more kicks and the pain becomes dull. Someone’s screaming. A couple of people if what Lucas is hearing is correct. Some of the voices seem familiar, but it’s hard to distinguish it through the ringing in his ears.

He opens his eyes and feels like he’s about to puke. There are black spots dancing in front of his eyes and the last thing he sees is the principal getting closer with Imane trailing right behind him.

Then he passes out.

#elu #elu fic #elu fanfic #skam france #skam france fic #skam france fanfic #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury

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