#BUT I want my SOUL to be shattered by the sheer force of the vibrations being shot out of an army of tower speakers playing at <90HZ

[spocksmalewife]

Listen listen ik the prevailing desire amongst us quiet folk is to stay home and parallel play with our friends but WHERE ARE ALL YOU GUYS THAT WANT TO GO OUT AND DANCE BUT STILL BE AUTISTIC ABOUT IT, HUH?

#sure cozy timez by the fire reading a book is great and all #BUT I want my SOUL to be shattered by the sheer force of the vibrations being shot out of an army of tower speakers playing at <90HZ #and i want someone there suffering with me too #oomfriends does this with me but she hates it but sees it as a necessary evil cuz shes a masochist ig #but i want ppl to be having fun dammit!

[omorphiavelvet]

Kiss of Death.

The rain was incredibly tranquil, bouts of pitter-patter dropped onto different surfaces of concrete, creating a constant tempo and rhythm, one that could easily lull anyone to sleep. The imminent thunder was absent, but lightning would show itself every now and then, nonetheless, the rain poured. 

On the many surfaces, the raindrops landed, stood two people. Boys, one tall and the other short by a considerable margin. The short, fair-skinned boy was clearly battered, holding his wounded arm whilst a cross lodged into the ground stood beside him, the glow of the markings within the cross was faint, and the black hues outside the markings only begun to serve as a contrast to the faint but determined glow. 

The boy he was facing was unscathed, but it was clear how he was irritated and unwilling to tire himself out. He held a regal air over his lean and tall figure, hands behind his back as his lances stood by his side much like an extension of his regalia. His sculptured face was slashed neatly on the cheek, and although the wound has long healed, the scar was visible. 

“How long do you intend to do this? You cannot defeat me.” The taller spoke, voice cold, clearly irritated, but his deep voice eerily calm as he gives the boy a cold stare, his brown eyes dull and empty. 

The shorter boy merely scoffed, as battered as he may be, he was not one to give up easily. Letting go of his wounded arm to see that it no longer bled, but only left a scar, his own eyes glaring up in determination towards the taller, as the cross split lengthwise, and spears popped out of its mechanisms, adorned with onyx-silver chains.

“Until you give him back.” the shorter started with a stammer, grabbing a spear from the cross and clutching it tight in his hand, “I’m not going anywhere!” he declares, charging towards the man as the spears from the cross soon followed. 

The taller made no move to intercept his oncoming attack, as the shorter lifted himself off of his feet and threw the spear as a preemptive strike, with frightening accuracy to add as the spear aimed to lunge itself at the man’s chest. 

A portal opens within the spear’s trajectory, swallowing the object as another portal opened behind the shorter, spitting the spear back out with the blunt end as it knocks him over, nearly groveling at the taller’s feet had it not been for his hands that stopped the momentum.

“You are weak,” the man spoke again, “The honkai may have chosen you to hold a core, but you are no more than an ordinary human holding a powerful weapon, how do you intend to stop me, a god?” this time, his cold voice turned into a mocking one as he floats up to the air. 

A barrage of portals surround the weakened boy, and within an instant, lances were spat out, though clearly aimed to kill him, they only bound and immobilized him, restricting his movement with the sheer girth of the lances. 

“Give…” the boy started, shaking in determination and pure fury, making the lances vibrate, “Mingyu back!” he cried out as the lances that held him shattered, jumping up towards the taller with renewed vigor, his tattered blue and black getup replaced with white and lilies adorned the edge of his garment as the marking on his back glows a soft yet regal blue. 

The man, with his irritation, now etched on his handsome face, summons a force of shockwave as it pushes everything within the back with terrifying power, but the boy, suspended in mid-air, refused to budge and only sought to have the man within an arms reach.

Within fingertips reach and before the taller could make any moves to get away, a collection of crosses sprouted out of thin air, surrounding the pair as chains sprouted out, binding the taller in quick succession as the crosses immediately planted themselves to the ground, leaving the dust to settle. 

The man now kneeling down at the mercy of the shorter, was wrapped and completely immobilized. 

Meanwhile, the shorter was panting, out of breath as he held the man by the cheeks, his gloved hands were gentle as if holding a lover’s face, perhaps to even kiss him. But the shorter’s sight was on the ground, trying to regain his composure and focus his sight. 

“Two cores. . .reason and death no less.” The taller spoke, after a while of silence, “and to wield a weapon of the previous era so effortlessly, that’s foolish.” he remarked, though no trace of emotion was heard in his voice. 

“You’re just a pathetic human, how could you have all this power?” He finished, disdain and envy clear in his deep yet distorted voice. 

“I told you...I’m different.” The boy choked out, his voice clearly weak, but the look in his eyes once he looked up to face the taller was enough to back up his statement. 

“Now...give Mingyu back.” He states, composure now regained as he never lets up his rather gentle grip on his visage, his eyes still holding the same amount of determination despite his rather calm voice. 

“Oh...you mean this body?” The man merely scoffed, “Without my core, this man is merely a husk, a doll if you will.” He answered. 

“Stop spouting bullshit and give him back to me!” his voice shook in anger, though he tries to sound as level-headed as possible.

“It’s true, the man you call your lover...Mingyu, was it?” he started mockingly, “He’s long gone- ah, that’s not fair to say, it’s more plausible to say that I am him.” The menacing declaration only served to fuel the shorter’s already bubbling anger.

“Stop lying and give him back!” The shorter tried, releasing a gust of power the rendered the nearby plant life as good as dead as his eyes were no longer humane, his pupils and irises now shaped into a cross, tilted to an angle, more specifically, an x. 

“Why do you keeping asking for him? He’s just a clone, a vessel made to house my soul.” The man asks, incredulous, making no moves to attack, but rather he was trying to comprehend how this human went to great lengths for a human, a clone even. 

The shorter succumbed to his knees, his pants returned, til they turned into soft sobbing, his hand slipping from his cheeks and to the neat blazer the taller wore, clutching it tightly as he kneels, humiliated, tired, and heartbroken. 

“Please...” he hiccupped, pleaded to particularly no one as he lets out choked out sobs, looking up to face the other, cheeks tear-stained as they continue to flow, looking straight into the taller’s eyes, his determination long tempered into grief. 

“Give him...give me Mingyu back…” He continued, his sobs becoming coughed out as he feels himself being ripped apart by a force stronger than anything he had encountered, “I’ll do anything, please, just give him back…” He begged. 

The tranquil rain was no longer tranquil, as the arrival of the roaring thunder filled the grieving silence between the two figures, one bound by chains and the other holding onto them, placed in the center of the collection of crosses that surrounded them. 

Before the taller could mock the other’s pitiful state of being, a flurry of memories rushed and flooded his senses. Memories of the one they call Mingyu. 

“Mingyu, you have to let go of me.” A gentle voice resounded, too familiar not to be recognized by the one who possessed the taller.

“No! I refuse!” The shorter, presumably Mingyu, petulantly refused, holding onto the arm of a boy with eyes closed. 

“Mingyu, come on.” The gentle voice began, as a hand reached to cup the other’s sunkissed visage. 

“This isn’t how you play tag. Now, will you let me go? I promise to treat you to ice cream if you manage to catch me next time you’re it.” The gentle voice soothed the child, though not much taller than him as he wriggles his arm out of his grip and brushes some of the messed up tufts of raven black hair away from Mingyu’s sight. 

Memories continued to flash in front of the taller. Laughter, tears, kisses, and the way the certain figures held each other, love clearly so evident in their shared gazes and longing stares. 

Another memory began to play within his sight. 

“Mingyu, look! I’m officially a valkyrie!” The gentle voice, now much cheerful and rather proud, showed himself off to Mingyu, who was all grown up, much, much taller than the owner of the voice. 

“Valkyrie?” Mingyu tilts his head in confusion, “Isn’t the title for girls?” He asks, blinking slowly. 

“Ah! well...Principal Theresa and the higher-ups decided to name me that for the time being...until I’m officially put in a squad, I’m an A-rank Valkyrie!” He explains meekly. 

“Really? I thought you were aiming to be S-rank?” 

“Well, I barely passed the written part of the exam.” 

Soft laughter emitted from the pair as Mingyu lifts up the shorter, singing words of praise for him. 

The last memory was too vivid to be called anything but recent.

“Mingyu, no!” the voice cried out, “Let me hold the core instead! Your body might not take another core!” 

“I can’t let you do everything!” Mingyu replied. 

The boy stopped in his tracks. 

“You think I didn’t know?” Mingyu says, and for the first time, his voice broke from the sadness. 

Flashes of memories began showing again, showing the familiar back of the shorter, adorned with the mark of an orchid flower and a frazzled orb. 

“Two years,” A blue-haired girl started. “That’s all you have left,” She explained. 

“The cores may be benevolent in nature, but the honkai energy is ultimately a chaotic force that powers the cores.” She explained. “Even if we took out the cores from your body, your Honkai adaptability, will do next to nothing to improve your lifespan.” 

the boy, now draped in hospital gowns with things attached to his wrist, smiled sadly, giving out a soft sigh. 

“I guess it was only a matter of time, huh?” he muttered, looking at his palms in silent thought. 

he looks back up to the blue-haired woman before him, “can I make one request, professor?” 

“go ahead.” 

“Can you not tell this to Mingyu? I want to be able to tell him myself, at least.” 

“Alright, but you'll have to tell him quick, that boy's been sweating buckets ever since he found you in the shipwreck.” 

The shorter merely chuckled. 

Little did the pair know, Mingyu was listening from the other side of the wall, a stray tear falling down from his cheek as his lips quivered.

He returns to the prior memory. 

“You always try to do everything, always trying to save everyone! And maybe it is for the better…” Mingyu started. 

“But why am I the only one who feels this way?” He continued. 

“I may not be as skilled as fighting or as smart as the others, but all I know is…” 

“Mingyu, please.” 

“This world, this wretched world…” he croaked out, “Means nothing to me without you!” 

and as Mingyu grabs the suspended gem, light completely envelops both of them and their surroundings.

He's immediately brought back to reality, and breaks free of the binds fairly easily, blowing the shorter of the male, including the crosses that surrounded them, away from him. 

“Foolish human! sacrificing yourself for a clone, loving a soulless husk of flesh! no matter how many cores you take,” the man began, summoning cubes out of thin air. 

“you will never stop the Honkai!” he cries out in anger, trapping the grieving male in the cubes and commanding his lances to slice the cube cleanly with much anger in his gestures. 

He finishes his attack with a powerful blast at the sliced cubes, but his brown eyes were already fighting to be alight with life and vigor, causing a splitting headache that he forcibly chose to ignore. 

The male, arising from the wreck as the dust settles, was completely beaten up, his beautiful getup shattered as he held on to a stray spear from his cross before. 

He was completely silent, the black cross growing in purple flocking to him as he heaved labored breaths. 

From this distance, the taller could not clearly see the man's expression, and slowly became unnerved by the silence that befell upon them. Having grown used to the cries of anger and grief of the other. 

“Die! Die! Die! Return from whence you came!” The taller repeatedly cried out as he launched attacks towards the battered male.

Each attack was dodged gracefully as the shorter geared up and charged towards him, his cross becoming a skateboard of sorts as two spears joined on both ends and transformed into a double-ended one, parrying and blocking each attack that came his way. 

Mingyu, the shorter began.

I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. That I didn't break my obsolete habit of doing everything for everyone. For giving myself to the world so readily without thinking of the people that wanted me as I am. 

The attacks continued and did little to slow the shorter down, his eyes flaring up in a different kind of determination. 

But to tell you the truth...I failed my written exam on purpose. Principal Theresa had told me that If I became S-rank... I'd have little time to see you, kiss you, hold you, and even fight alongside you. 

I know I told you that I was gonna become the best soldier ever, but even then, what was being the best soldier when I couldn't see your smile? telling me how proud you are of me? teasing me about my height despite me being able to wreck your shit one hundred percent? 

what was being the best soldier if you weren't there to scold me, telling me to be more careful next time, patching up my wounds, then cooking me the best dinner buffet ever? 

He continued to charge towards him, jumping off of the cross, as another one materialized above the taller. 

“using the same trick again! how foolish!” the taller cried out, gathering power in his hand, ready to toss it above. 

“Judah!” the shorter cried out, fully materializing the cross, as it split in half lengthwise, spitting out spears that shot everywhere, held by golden chains as it surrounds the taller. 

By then, the power had dissipated from his hand, effectively neutralising the taller's next attack as the cross drops behind him, pinning him on the surface of it through the chains that pulled.

“this...what is this?!” the taller cried out in anger, panicking when he was unable to channel and utilise his power. 

“the oath of judah— or a complete perfect replica of it...principal theresa's cross.” the shorter explained. 

“the cross contains the core of the herrscher of binding, who can neutralise honkai energy and bind the target...however this cross doesn't have that core...but it has enough power to bind you.” the shorter panted, the pain of infection flaring up from his back. 

“the more you use your herrscher powers...the more your physical body will be infected.” the blue-haired woman explains again. 

“so I'll turn into a zombie?” 

“not specifically. the core of reason is sentient and rather benevolent...the core will probably eliminate your physical body...and turn you into a part of it.” 

“and what about the core of death?” 

“it's an independent core, it won't fight your disintegration, but I doubt the core will find the strength to work with the core of reason again if it doesn't have your body.” 

Two years. He could've spent the remaining two years of his life with Mingyu. Images and thoughts of marriage, family, and lifelong accompaniment begin to swirl in the shorter's thoughts. 

But Fate was far too cruel to the both of them. 

As the taller struggled and mocked the shorter, pitifully bound by the chains who only flared up in response to his anger, the shorter takes a few steps forward, leaning down to the kneeling man. 

“the core of death?” 

“yes, it's abilities are quite... interesting.” the blue-haired woman, now known as einstein began to ponder verbally. 

“what's so interesting about it?” 

“for one, the core doesn't just kill living beings...or bring living beings back to life.” 

“I'm not following.” 

“I have studied the core for quite a while, and tested it on numerous samples, which were mostly physical.” she began. 

“but there is this theory, that the core doesn't only kill living things... physically.” 

“I'm still not getting it.” 

“Part of why the Honkai zombies become essentially brainless is not only their cognitive functions becoming impaired, but also their egos being reduced to a number of commands.” 

“so you're saying the core is capable of killing personalities? I don't see how that's beneficial.” 

“With the right amount of practice and power, yes, it can kill personalities, but also bring them back to life.” 

Einstein, your theory had better be true, the shorter remarked in his thoughts as he comes face to face with the taller. 

the orchid flower mark on his back began to glow softly as he cups the other's cheeks yet again, before planting his lips upon the other's. 

the kiss was nothing romantic, maybe to the taller, but to him, it may be the last kiss he'll ever give to him. 

The taller began to feel a sense of drowsiness at the contact of their lips, not only was he feeling completely powerless, but his limbs were completely going slack, and his struggles ceased. 

he couldn't move anything, not even his lips, as sensations slowly left his body. the patter of rain against his now drenched outfit, the hammering heart within him, and the cool winds that would've let his body shuddered in response. 

The last sensation he felt was his lips, until his eyes met the darkness. 

Mingyu finally comes to, as if he had awoken from a nightmare. His breaths were labored, like he was drowning and he was just resuscitated back to life.

he was not in the place that was ruptured into pitiful pieces by the powers capable of bending physical laws, but he was in a different space. 

a peaceful one. 

colors swirled all around him, he felt weightless, like a burden was relieved off of him as he looks around in mere confusion. 

then the thought hits him. 

he cries out the shorter's name, frantic, scrambling to his feet to run, in hopes of finding a way out of this space. To finally reunite with who he loved, the person he's been aching to hold in his arms. 

“what are you flailing about? you look like a deer caught in the headlights.” the familiar voice spoke up, causing Mingyu to turn sharply to his back, seeing the owner of the voice he wanted to hear the most. 

“How— When did you— god, you fucking idiot!” He immediately stammered, collecting the smaller into his arms, tears silently flowing to his cheeks as he gives him a squeeze, happy to have him in his arms. 

“Hey, Hey. Deep breaths, baby.” The shorter one removed his death grip on him, smiling gently as he held him by the shoulders. 

Mingyu collects himself and his composure, all too elated to finally be reunited with his lover. 

“Wha— What happened? All I remember is grabbing the core and the light— What happened to the core?” Mingyu asks. 

“The core is within you.” He began, his smile subtly dropping, “In the process of trying to fuse with the core, you awakened something within you.” He continued. 

“So much is happening, Mingyu. I can't really tell you everything because I don't know how to begin.” He heaves a sigh at that. 

“Oh.” Mingyu merely responds. 

“How can we get out then? I wanna see everyone! I wanna make up for the things I did.” Mingyu questions. 

The shorter a sad smile on his face, though Mingyu doesn't seem to notice it. “Come on, walk with me for a while.” He reaches a hand out. 

Mingyu took the hand, intertwining their fingers as he followed his steps, letting a comfortable silence fall upon them. 

“Mingyu.” He calls out. 

“Hmm? Yes, my love?” 

“How are you feeling?” 

Mingyu draws a blank upon the question. How was he feeling? He couldn't describe it. He knocked out, heard a menacing voice whispering bitter remarks into his ear. 

He could recall fragments of what seemed like him hurting his boyfriend, mocking him. He could hardly believe that he himself was saying such horrible and demeaning things. 

Even in such a state of slumber, Mingyu refused to believe that he was hurting the ones he loved. 

And when he saw his determined, yet tearful eyes, he almost believed that it was really him, he was really doing all of this. 

He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to listen to the voice that keeps planting sinister thoughts into his head. 

So he dreamt. 

He recalls every memory he has with him, fond, sad, lovely, and even when they first fought. All these memories, they were precious to him, and he allowed himself to be foolishly trapped into the dream, reliving his greatest memories. 

“Mingyu?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You spaced out, it's okay.” 

“What was the question again?” 

“How are you feeling, my sweet?” 

Mingyu ponders again, this time not recalling the series of events that transpired. Instead, he looks at their intertwined hands and the sweet smile his lover wore.

“Like home.” He finally answered. 

“Like home?” the shorter repeated, clearly amused. 

“Don't laugh, it's true!” Mingyu whined, pouting at him. 

“Alright, alright. I won't.” 

They shared a few chuckles as they walked, the pathless route seemingly endless as they fell into their natural state of conversing, banter and some sweet kisses here and there. 

Mingyu was chuckling when he suddenly let go of his hand. 

“We're here.” He says. 

“Where?” Mingyu asks, before turning front and facing a rather ancient door.

“The end.” He answers, as calm as he could possibly be. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you walk through that door, you'll wake up from the nightmare, my love.” He answers. 

Silence befell upon them again, this time, it wasn't a comfortable one. 

“What about you? Will I see you when I wake up?” Mingyu finally breaks the silence. 

He couldn't bring himself to answer his question. 

“Then I'm not going.” 

“Mingyu, please—” 

“No, I won't! That's final!” Mingyu began, firm. 

“Mingyu, please you're acting like a child—” 

“I don't care!” he added. 

“I don't care if I'm living in a nightmare, If I'll sleep forever...I don't care! as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine!” 

“Mingyu—” 

Before he could continue to reason with him, Mingyu lunged into his hug, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Please...please let me stay with you.” He pleaded. 

“Mingyu, I can't.” He began. 

Mingyu didn't let up, only hugging the smaller as tears began flowing down his cheeks again. 

Mingyu, still holding onto him notices how weightless he's gotten. 

“Mingyu, you have to let me go.” 

“No!” 

A shaky sigh escapes him, trying not to let the tears fall as he begins losing sensations, and at this point, he could barely feel Mingyu's grip around his body. 

He was fading. 

It was as Einstein had told him, the core was slowly consuming him before the Honkai infection could. 

“Mingyu, please— we can't keep going on like this.” 

“No!” Mingyu replied, defiant.

A sob escapes him at his reply, unable to hold back the tears. 

“at least hold me properly?” he finally says, softly. 

Mingyu reluctantly agrees, shifting and putting the boy on his lap as he wraps an arm around him from behind, and in this angle, he could see how the boy was becoming transparent. 

“Why?” Mingyu asks, now full on crying as he gazes at the fading body of the love of his life. 

“I told you to rest! eat your meals! and not strain yourself…” He trailed off, crying. 

“It was my only chance of bringing you back…” He answers, smiling sadly as he relishes what he could in Mingyu's arms. 

“You idiot…” Mingyu merely added on, still crying as he holds him tight, afraid that he'll completely slip from his arms. 

Mingyu keeps crying, hoping that this was another nightmare the voice had conjured for him to break his spirits, he hoped that he could wake up and he would be waiting for him with his sheepish smile, and he could scold him again for staying up. 

but it felt real. all too real. 

The way his body was phasing to and fro being transparent then physical, the sweet words whispered into his ears that did nothing to soothe his pain. 

“Please... don't go…” Mingyu pleaded. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...Mingyu.” He only replied, crying. 

Mingyu didn't say anything else and fully hugged the other's fading body, as light from the door envelops the both of them. 

Mingyu comes to, this time, he was in the place he last saw before his seemingly eternal slumber, and before anything else, he felt lips against his own. 

His lips. 

They were breathing life into him, and washing away the pain the core brought upon him, opening his eyes. He sees the dimming light of life from his eyes, his arms instinctively coming up to wrap around his figure. 

the shorter had enough strength to pull away from the kiss and let himself be held by the taller. 

“Ah...I feel so light...Is that you, Mingyu?” He weakly calls out. 

“Yes, yes. it's me.” He answers softly but frantically as he holds onto him, crying softly. 

“Thank goodness…” 

The silence would've filled the room if not for the hardly silent cries that were Mingyu's.

“Mingyu?” 

“Yes, my love?” He answers, his voice breaking.

“I love you…” He muttered. 

“I love you too, so much…please, stay with me…” He pleaded, but he knew it was too late, his pleas were never heard by the gods in the first place. 

“Thank goodness...I was afraid...I couldn't say it again…” He muttered, before he closes his eyes, a soft glow enveloping his figure, the light becomes harsh for a short while that Mingyu had to look away for a short while. 

When Mingyu looks again, the body of his lover was completely gone, like they were never there in the first place, and instead, he was holding two gems in his hand. 

one had the orchid flower carved beautifully onto its azure surfaces, and the other merely held a smooth cerulean surface.

Mingyu's cries became louder at the sight, the reality of the situation finally sinking in as he holds the gems close to his chest, the only remaining reminders of the man he loved so dearly. 

Yet the rain has stopped, and only the silent light of the sun peeking through could be seen. 

The turbulently tranquil rain had stopped, and if only Mingyu had looked up, he would see a beautiful sunrise, bringing a surge of new hope to many. 

But to Mingyu, he could only fill the skies with his tears, and the new day had only brought him pain, as his cries were hardly heard by the one he lost. 

#completely self indulgent #honkai 3rd #honkai impact #seventeen x male reader #kpop x male reader #mingyu x male reader #fanfic #hi3rd

[evilrevan]

Ties that Bind

Emet-selch/WoL fic featuring a named WoL.

Contains spoilers pertaining towards of the end of 5.0.

Edited this hastily because I needed to get my feelings out from seeing some videos of Emet-Selch on YT. I GOT SOME HEAVY FEELINGS pertaining to this ship. Not everything is from the game as I took some minor liberties.

----

Yerenter watched on as the Scions stood before Emet-Selch, listening to his words lanced heavily with a profound sense of anguish as the ancient finally let his mask fall before them all. His mortal body, Solus, moved as if it was a second skin to a man who lived through all eight rejoinings. Golden eyes seemed to falter. To shift.

For the briefest of moments, Yerenter could see they were blue. As blue as the skies above Eorzea.

“Look at me!” a few scions stumbled as the visceral sensation of the ancient’s pain boomed within the chamber, his voice the anchor, “I have lived a thousand thousand of your lives! I have broken bread with you, fought with you, grown old, sired children and yes, welcomed death's sweet embrace!"

Emet-Selch’s voice rose to a fever’s pitch. His aether, his power leaking as old wounds were aired out and left to fester in the wake of them all. And yet as the other voices of the Scions tried to defend their rights to life Yerenter could do very little to add to them. The Au Ra’s mismatched eyes were fixed on the Ascian struggling to control himself as the tension in the air grew to the point one could call it being in the very center of a storm.

As purple and blue eyes met Emet-Selch’s golden orbs, it was then Yerenter felt it.

A singular pulse of searing pain struck the massive Au Ra. His knees wavered, the weight of his body bringing him to his knees as a blue-grey hand clutched at his chest. Long black claws scraped against the metal as they sought to tear out the source of the sheer agony pulsing within his breast. Thin scratch marks marred the Mythril-colored metal, jagged and frenzied in their patterns as the pain swam under every inch of the Xaela’s body. Nothing escaped the hellish torment.

Emet-Selch looked on as the Warrior dropped to the floor in a heap, his chest laboring to fill his lungs with air all mortals needed to sustain their husk-like shells. Bitter disgust crept in. Crawled around in the Ascian’s skull as pain brought the man low. 

Yet as the urge to comment on the state of their frail bodies the words died upon his tongue.

The vulnerability lasted only a moment. As if reminded of the husk pretending to be a long-lost friend. A lover. The unsundered gazed upon him and all those around the incomplete warrior of light, the look of disgust seeping in behind his golden eyes. Pity followed in small measures.

“You were a mistake.” Emet-Selch allows for a moment of silence after to let the words echo within the chamber. To rattle within their primitive brains. “Husks. Broken beings whose lives left me wanting after my many lifetimes. Worthless. Nothing.”

The Au Ra male despite all his suffering, all his pain, forced his head to rise and look at Emet-Selch in the eyes. “D-Don’t. Do. This.” Each word was said between gasps, between swallowed screams of agony caged within flesh and bones.

Emet-Selch scoffed. A gloved hand waving him off just like in the past. “If you do not wish for it, then fight for what you desire, Warrior of Light. But do not doubt my convictions. If you do,” The ancient in mortal flesh took a single step towards them all. Emet-Selch looked past the scions. His gaze focused on one person and one person alone. Yerenter.

Yerenter’s eyes widened as he once again saw the briefest of blue bleed through Emet-Selch’s piercing golden eyes, “I will not consider it murder being as broken and battered as you are.” And in a whirl of emotions ranging from anguish, regret, rage, and robustness- Yerenter saw the briefest look of pity and regret appear at the cracks of ascian’s carefully maintained mask.

Hades

That singular name pierced deep into Yerenter’s soul. A scream filling the silence as blinding white filled his senses. He could feel nothing save for the tearing shredding feeling of his skull threatening to shatter like glass.

”My reaper. My Thanatos.” 

A soothing balm broke through the suffering. Soft sweet words crept between the spasms of hell threatening to sunder flesh from soul. Tenderness. Softness. Safety.

And for the briefest of moments, Yerenter saw something in the midst of it all. A face framed with short white hair- eyes the color of the sky and the warmth of the very sun itself.

Hades

Something touched him. Fingers or perhaps an arm? It was hard to tell anymore what was real and what wasn’t. “Thanatos.” The disembodied voice kept chanting those two names in rapid succession. Thanatos. Hades.

And for whatever reason Yerenter’s heart ceased to hurt. Air flooded into his lungs as the white receded from his vision, his body renewed with the strength he didn’t think would return so soon.

On instinct Yerenter stood tall, towering above all his friends. A strange sensation compelled him forward. His legs wobbled with each step he took the rattling of his armor clamoring above the noise of the scions calling for him to return to their side. 

Their cries fell on deaf horns as their warrior, their savior, their friend continued ever forward, a single purple and blue eye fixed on the man dressed in red bearing the eyes, not of his creation. 

And yet as the space between the Ascian and the Chosen one of Hydaelyn shrunk, those very same eyes once again flashed blue. The very same eyes Yerenter remembered. But didn’t at the same time. Something else within him remembered. The very same something which screamed at his very core to stop Emet-Selch from sealing both their fates to a fight that would end in suffering.

“Emet-Selch,” Yerenter felt as if his mouth had gone dry, his head now lowered to look upon the shorter Garlean man. A slight spasm caused the Au Ra to flex his right hand, claws digging into the leather of his gauntlet just as something else flickered past his eyes, something no one could see.

A robed figure, taller than anything anyone could imagine stood in place of Emet-Selch. Threads of white hair poked out from the recesses of the hood shrouding what the red mask with circular lines didn’t cover, brilliant blue eyes contrasting between the hue of blood and the darkness of the robe. 

Hades

This time Yerenter let the name fall from his mouth, “Hades.” 

His gift was the sight of Emet-Selch’s eyes widening in disbelief. The fissures in his composure growing malms wide as Yerenter spoke Emet-Selch’s true name. Before he became the Architect. Before he took his seat at the Convocation of the 14th.

At the protest of his allies and friends, Yerenter reached out, his clawed fingers inches from the man who caused so much suffering for a cause he believed was righteous, until a thin red thread of his vestments snagged upon a singular black claw; sprung loose from the ties that bound it. Slowly his hand pulled away, the thread still caught on the edge of his clawed finger as it spread out in the space between their bodies.

It didn’t snap. Didn’t break. It simply connected them.

The very next thing Yerenter would recall was a test of aether spanning out from the man named Hades towards the taller, almost draconian, figure before him. 

Where he felt warmth before, Yerenter felt it again for the briefest of moments before his vision faltered. Cold snaked through his limbs, draining the comfort of the warmth and contentment from his very being. Piercing golden eyes widened in surprise only to be tinged with panic as the large Au Ra man began buckling under his weight. 

“Thanatos!” No one heard Emet-Selch cry out in alarm. But the vibrations were felt. The echoes of the name unspoken were loud enough for Yerenter to feel through his horns.

And it was enough.

#Emet-selch #Emet Selch #wol x emet selch #ThanatosxHades #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv shadowbringers #ffxiv shadowbringers spoilers #Shadowbringer spoilers #I see Persephone as Azem and I raise you Thanatos #Hi and welcome to my eternal pain and suffering caused by this ship

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

The Light Inside Is Broken But I Still Work (sike)

Author’s Note: Hello! This isn’t my first one shot, but it the first one in a while. I’m in love with my man Tom Hardy, and I’m such a big fan of all his characters. I’ve noticed there’s not as much love as I’d like to see for him, so I decided to make a reader insert with Tommy Riordan, seeing as I’ve just watched Warrior. Please please PLEASE let me know if you like this, and let me know if you don’t. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. <3

Prompt: My chocolate bar hasn’t fallen down from the vending machine and you’ve come along and shook it so that it does, and I am eternally in your debt because that was my last $1.

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

You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. You’ve just had the worst day, and now this. This was enough to break a man’s entire being, let alone your tiny fragile soul. You could feel the tension of the day reaching it’s boiling point, and you just barely resisted stomping your foot against the ground like a child. But really, this was ridiculous. 

You felt your breath hitch as you stared at the candy bar trapped behind the hazy glass of the vending machine. You had put your last dollar and 10 cents in that wretched thing, and it had valiantly tried to give you the one thing that could possibly lift your spirits from this awful day. And then the machine groaned and made a kind of stuttering humming noise, and took the last sliver of sanity you had been holding onto throughout the day. 

The candy bar had swayed to the sides before it decided that the inside of the vending machine was much more cozy, and was hanging on from just the bottom corner of it’s package. 

An idea surfaced through the swirling depressive thoughts you had sunk into. You hesitantly lifted your arm and pressed your palm to the glass. 

You pushed experimentally. It didn’t budge. A whimper escaped your lips. You pushed a little harder, shoving your shoulder to the side of the vending machine to see if it would rock. It stayed stubbornly still, determined to keep your day as shit as possible. A sob racked your body.

It wasn’t like you could even help it. You had just gone through so much today, and you had just wanted a little bit of comfort. Just something to take the edge off of a rotten day, and chocolate had seemed like your alleviation. And now... well now you were crying your heart out to an evil vending machine. 

“Oh. OH! Oh, hey! Oh don’t cry, are you alright.” A man’s gentle voice spoke out. White hot embarrassment raced up your spine, spilling across your cheeks. You tried to nod, but another choked sound came up. Fantastic. Just fantastic. Now you were having a break down in front of a stranger. 

You looked up to the man, and immediately wanted to crawl in a hole and die, effective immediately. The guy was sex on legs. You pushed down another wave of strangled sobs. Of course the dude was hot. And ripped, holy shit. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, but the suggestion of packed muscle underneath was undeniable. The guy looked like he could break another man in two, or at least knock one out in a single hit. When your eyes flitted to his own, you were floored to see the sheer amount of kindness in them. You could probably get lost in those eyes. Except the eyes were getting closer, and oh hey, so was the man attached to them.

“Are you, are you hurt?” His eyes tracked down your form, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, immediately looked back to your eyes. His head gave a little tilt. “What’s the matter, what’s with the water-works?” 

He looked very genuine, and very big, and boy was he very close. You swallowed and opened your mouth, but immediately snapped it shut. What were you  gonna tell this man? This kind man who was prepared to help you through whatever potential world shattering problem you were facing. He would absolutely laugh when he found out this was all over a bad day and a lack of sugar. 

You sniffled and jerked your head to the vending machine. Let him laugh. It would be the perfect ending to the perfect day. You waited for him to catch on and wrapped your arms around your self, trying to disappear from under this beautiful being’s gaze.

The man looked to the vending machine, then back to you with furrowed brows. Then he took a closer look inside the machine and spotted the candy bar. The corners of his mouth briefly lifted before falling down again. He then bit his lower lip to try and hide the clear smile that was spreading across his face. Even through the embarrassment, you could tell it was a nice smile. It didn’t look like he used it very often, but with the way it instantly brightened his eyes, you knew he should. 

“Sorry for the loud crying.” You rasped out. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m fine, as you can see. Thank you for the assistance.” You took a step away from the man, only to stumble through the retreat. You cleared your throat. “Th-thank you. Again. So, have a good one. Thank you. For the... for bothering to come-” Heat flooded to your cheeks once more. You couldn’t wait to walk home after this and throw yourself into on-coming traffic, because that’s exactly what you were gonna do after this mess.

The man allowed the smile to completely overtake his face. He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, making his way to the side of the vending machine. You only realized what he was doing when he made sure his shoulder was firmly against the side of the machine.

“Uh, I kind of already tried that. It’s... well it’s pretty sturdy and I don’t think you’ll make a differ-” You were cut off as the man slammed himself into the vending machine once, rocking the object up and off the ground. The man stepped back and allowed the machine to slam back down onto the pavement. Something sounded like it broke off deep inside the beast, but what really mattered was the candy bar that slipped off the hook inside, plummeting to the bottom of the machine with a satisfying smack. The man smiled that same tiny smile he had made the first time, and reached down to grab it. The shift of his hoodie, revealing a sliver of skin did not go unnoticed by you.

He straightened up while holding out the candy bar victoriously. “That wasn’t so hard. Now, of course I’ll give it to you, but you have to give me something in return-” 

The man was cut off by the force of you throwing yourself at his body. You couldn’t quite tell if you were laughing or crying, but reminded yourself that you didn't care.

He let out a startled “Whoa,” and caught you, resting his arms under your back thighs as you shook with relief and warbled thank you’s. 

“You’ve no idea the kind of day I had... and what that did to me. You, God thank you-” You stopped, waiting for a name.

“Tommy, my name is-”

“Tommy! Tommy you’re my hero!” You continued your crying in his hoodie somewhere below his neck. You felt him tense at the title, but he just let out a nervous laugh. You remembered why he was probably nervous and let out a tiny “oh.” 

You let your legs drop from his waist and instantly blushed. His hands left your thighs, but only so that they could come up to rest at your sides. He was still very close. You could feel his breath on your face. His smile slid back into place.

“Hi. There you are, much better without all that wetness, isn’t it.” He gently rubbed a thumb across your cheek. You felt your cheek burn from where his touch brushed against your skin, but you didn’t think it was from embarrassment. You absentmindedly nodded. He withdrew from your space but only a little bit. The hand that had been holding the candy bar left your waist and was held up once more for you to take. You bit your lip against a smile and began to reach up to take it, more gratitude about to spill from your lips, when he raised the candy bar just out of your reach. You’re eyebrows surged up.

“Uh-uh, not yet.” His laugh ghosted over your face, moving your baby hairs gently. “I was going to give this to you in exchange for a reward, sweetheart.” 

Your heart immediately sank. You didn’t have any money left on you at all. You began to shake your head.

“Um, I’m really sorry, T-Tommy. I don’t really have anything to give you... I could probably pay you back tomorrow...” You trailed off, hoping that would be enough. He gave you a teasing smile. 

“What was your name?” He asked

“Y-Y/N.” You exhaled. He nodded and repeated your name back. You couldn’t help but love how your name rolled out of his mouth. 

“Y/N. I’m afraid I won’t be here tomorrow.” Your heart stuttered for a beat. “But I’m perfectly wiling to take something else... let’s say, like maybe your number?” By the end of his sentence, a bashful lilt had entered his voice. You remained silent. 

Panic flashed across his eyes. “Not that I expect that. I really don’t. I was just, well, shit, I don’t really know what I was doing but I was going for smooth.” He let out a sharp laugh and went to step back. Your hand squeezed the front of his Hoodie. That never would have been enough to stop him, but he stopped dead in his tracks anyway.

“No, I... Well it’s only fair isn’t it?” You allowed him a sweet smile. He answered yours with his own.

“Only if you want to.” He shrugged his shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal, but he shuffled through his pockets for his phone like it was one. When he finally found it, he slipped it into your hands and allowed you to program your number into his phone. You immediately texted yourself, waiting for the vibration to announce to the both of you that you had each others numbers. 

You hugged him one last time as a parting thank you, and he wiped the last of your tears with his thumb again. You both backed away from each other, smiling. It wasn’t until the third time you looked back that you caught him looking right back at you over his shoulder. 

That night, your phone endlessly buzzed softly, and your smile never quite left.

#tommy conlon #tommy riordan #tommy conlon x reader #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #wariorr #warrior fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #writing #tommy conlon imagine

[hellbentbnhaofficial]

Hellbent ||BNHA

Chapter: 1

Summary: Midoriya and (Last) finally get to meet their favourite hero! But the two get more than they were bargained for

Warnings: Brief discription of violence (suffocation) and a mention of blood (All Might) but that’s about it

Tags: @prismaroyal​ @undead0relived​

School was finally over. The last bell had rung and now everyone was piling out of the building like their lives had depended on it, like they seemed to do everyday and, well, it was annoying being shoved by impatient students, but, as (Last)’s father had always put it ‘C’est la vie and the cycle continues’

(Last) hadn’t rushed home just yet. No, she had parked herself outside by a bench, munching on a small snack she had left from her lunch and waiting for a certain greenette to join her on their walk home like they always did. However, time continued to drag with no sign of her best friend, leaving the girl to glance down at her phone and sigh in exasperation.

The two didn’t share a class, much to their shared disappointment upon her transfer, so they had reached a mutual agreement in which she would wait outside for his arrival (as her teacher always did seem to let her class out earlier and the kids in his class always picked on Midoriya about her protective loitering when she waited outside his room instead) and he would meet her there so they could walk home together (or maybe, if they were lucky, her father would pick them up in his truck blasting tunes from a forgotten time).

The thought of going up to check on him was gnawing on her mind and it only grew worse by the second.

‘What if he was getting bullied again?’ She hadn’t even realised when she stood from her seat, grabbing her rucksack before her feet led her back towards the building, her eyes still glazed over with a look of worry ‘Was he hurt? Does he need my help? Hold on Izu, I’m coming’

(Last) passed the threshold of the school when a familiar bush of blonde hair turned the corner, accompanied by two other brunettes as they laughed about whatever, seemingly oblivious about the world around them. 

“Here come the three stooges” She muttered to herself when they finally noticed, a nervous sweat growing on Bakugou’s followers' brows while the boy in question merely scowled, his eyes narrowing dangerously towards (Last) and speeding up in steps. “Does he ever know when to leave me alone?”

(Last) rolled her eyes, keeping her head straight as she continued forward, hoping he would just walk past and go away.

Of course that wasn’t going to happen.

“The hell are you doing here, (Last)?” She stayed quiet, continuing past the brash blonde to search for her friend but to no avail, her wrist being grabbed in a tight grip and tugging her back to meet harsh red eyes that glared into her soul. “Oi, don’t fucking ignore me when I’m speaking to you!”

(Last) didn’t hesitate to rip her hand away from his grip, “Sorry, I don’t speak to bullies. Maybe if you showed some respect, we could have a meaningful conversation”

“You little-”

The girl had already walked away, ignoring Bakugou’s angered shouts as she continued down the corridor, turning the corner he and his two ‘friends’ had come from.

The teen soon found Midoriya standing within his abandoned class, his uniform burned on the shoulders and eyes cloudy when he looked at her, (Last)’s expression nothing short of pain.

(Last) was left to comfort the boy like she usually was.

---

The notebook wasn’t ruined, that she knew however it wasn’t in great shape either. The pen was smudged from the water, the pages were burned and dirtied from Bakugou’s explosions, not to mention the koi had been nibbling on it when the two had found it, so Midoriya was reasonably upset, though, (Last) was not gonna let it stay that way.

“I’ll tell you what-” She giggled, hand encasing his own with a gentle squeeze “We can go buy a new book and we’ll rewrite everything! You’re only a few pages in, right?”

“Well, yeah” Midoriya swung their hands, seemingly thinking “I think there’s actually a stationary store nearby the apartment”

“Perfecta!”

The two shared a look when they passed the entrance of a tunnel, wide grins splitting their faces before their intertwined hands raised, the two teenagers belting out horrible replicates of the famous hero and ‘Symbol of Peace’, All Might’s laugh, the tunnel amplifying their terrible rendition before they were both sent into hearty laughter, spirits lifted once again.

It’s times like these that the two of them treasured. When there was no Bakugou, or bullies, or anything else. Where the whole world disappeared and left only themselves to their devices, enjoying each other's company and enjoying the peace that came with being left alone by the cruel, unforgiving world. Midoriya and (Last) cherished when they were together and no one was watching, just them, only them.

“Well, well, look at the lovebirds”

But not in that moment.

(Last) and Midoriya froze, turning to watch as green sludge grew from the manhole cover and eyes widening in horror as a face formed from the gunk, huge eyes peering back down at them and monstrous jaws curving into a malicious grin, predatory and evil.

“Sorry but I’m gonna have to break the sweethearts up!”

She didn’t even hesitate.

Midoriya was stumbling after (Last) before snapping straight, both of them sprinting towards the exit of the darkened tunnel. The grip around his wrist was tight, almost too tight, but it didn’t matter, not when the villain was right on the heels and catching up way too fast for them to comprehend. 

It was a last second decision, one that would probably haunt them both for the rest of their days, but Midoriya was quick to plant his hands on her friend’s back, pushing her away harshly before being engulfed by the villain, his body disappearing in the watery substance while (Last) stumbled, landing on her stomach with a painful huff only to scramble upwards at the sounds of muffled screaming.

“IZUKU!” She screeched, probably loud enough for the neighbouring homes to hear “No, NO!”

“Try all you want” The villain cackled, his grin still as strong as ever as Midoriya clawed at the sludge “My body’s made of fluid”

He went off on a tangent, muttering something about ‘him’, probably a hero who had been chasing him, but to (Last), it didn’t matter. Maybe she would regret what she did later, maybe she wouldn’t, but in that moment, it had been her only option and she didn’t care. Midoriya saw the look in her eyes, his own widening before screwing shut and covering his ears the best that he could.

“Oh, what, stopped struggling?” The villain taunted, unaware as (Last) took a deep breathe “Wise choice kid-”

The scream was deafening- no, it was eardrum shattering. The echo of the cave made it even worse, resulting in the screens of the two teens’ phones cracking, nearby windows fracturing, animals whining in pain and the villain choking on his words, his sludge body vibrating and slightly sliding off, allowing Midoriya space to breathe.

(Last) almost didn’t want to stop, watching the villain wriggle in agony brought her joy in her moment of panic and fear but when the manhole cover flew open and a person raised from the pits of the sewers, her scream died off and she stared at the hero before her eyes.

“Fear not citizens, for hope has arrived” The hero declared “why?

Because I Am Here”

All Might!

With one power filled punch the stunned villain was sent flying. Parts of his body pulled apart from the sheer amount of wind forcing his hand and in a few moments, Midoriya was released, (Last) jumping to catch him before collapsing onto the ground, arms tightly around her friend in a protective manner while she gained her breath.

“Izuku” She sighed, nuzzling into his hair. He was unconscious, from the lack of oxygen or from the shock, she didn’t know, but she could tell he was fine, safe and sound in her grasp and okay. “Oh thank God, Izuku”

“That was very reckless, young lady” All Might’s booming voice shocked (Last) out of hectic stupor, eyes snapping towards the serious looking hero. It was weird, for some reason she felt like he sounded familiar, even the use of ‘young lady’ sounded something she had heard time and time again. 

She just chalked it up to all those fan videos of his.

“Using your Quirk with no training could have led to serious harm upon your friend there too, not just the villain” He gestured to Midoriya in her arms and- wait, how would he know if she trained or not? “Plus, without any kind of legal mandate you could end with being in serious trouble”

Was he really gonna scold her when her friend had nearly been killed-

“-B-But your quick thinking also stunned that villain and I applaud you for that, citizen!”

“Oh- I- Well-” A groan stopped (Last)’s fumbling, her eyes snapping down towards Midoriya as he blinked, emerald eyes meeting her own. “Oh, Izuku! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

The girl held him close, intertwining her hand with his own for the both of them to squeeze carefully while the hero stood there almost awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing as he looked anywhere but at them.

He never knew what to do during intimate moments.

“I’m sorry about that!” All Might was finally able to cough out, his hero laughing catching Midoriya’s ears and causing the teen to snap his head up, eyes wide in awe as he stared at his idol with admiration and surprise.

“ALL MIGHT!?”

“I try not to get people caught in my justicing, but it turns out the sewage system is pretty difficult to navigate! AHAHAHAH” He grabbed at the bottles that were stored in his pants, holding them up to reveal the sludge villain stored away in the plastic. Really? A Coca Cola bottle? “Thanks to you two I have captured the evil dorer! Thank you!”

“I- I- I-” The greenette stumbled, snapping upright as he patted around him, eyes still solely centered on the hero before them. “Please- Please sign my notebook! I have a pen here-”

His excitement only skyrocketed when The All Might presented it towards him, two perfect signatures scrolled across two pages of his journal in black marker “One for you, young man, and one for the young lady!”

(Last) and Midoriya shared a look of pure delight, both quick to stand and bow deeply towards their favourite hero “Thank you, All Might!”

“No worries, kids! I have to leave now to hand in the villain to the police but it was very nice meeting the two of you!”

Midoriya seemed heartbroken at his words, his bright smile dimming as the hero stretched, reading himself for a jump.

(Last)’s hand came to rest upon her friend’s shoulder, a feeling of sympathy washing over her. It had always been Midoriya’s dream to meet All Might, an even bigger one to even talk to his favourite hero, to ask him questions and she knew that. This brief meeting wasn’t enough, there was so much more that he needed to ask in such little time and her heart ached for her friend’s misfortune.

The feeling of harsh wind blowing her hair back brought (Last) back to reality, a small sigh leaving her as she squeezed the air “Come on, Izu-”

Wait, squeezed the air?

Her eyes stared at the place where Midoriya had been standing before whipping around the area. “Izu?”

The screaming had brought the wave of realisation over her.

“Oh no” She glanced up, watching as All Might’s silhouette shrunk along with Midoriya’s, the hero and teen’s shared shouting fading off into the distance “Oh NO! IZUKU!”

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear-

She thought about going after him, using her Quirk once again and flying after the two, but the height they had reached would be one she would never be able to catch, so instead, she began her sprint, eyes wide and heart beating “I’M COMING IZU”

This was gonna be one hell of a chase.

---

The sun had begun to set when (Last) had finally found him, the screams of his name causing to turn right as she had made impact, her arms flying around his shoulders and relieved greeting kisses placed on both of his cheeks, the red only slightly perceptible as he hugged her back.

“Are you crazy!? Insane!?” Her accent thickened when she grabbed his cheeks, smushing his face between her hands as she stared back into his eyes, her own no doubt frantic “Are you to be trying to kill yourself!? Huh!? Crazy man!?”

“‘M so-ry” Midoriya had managed to mumble, his hands freeing his face from her grip. “I know it was crazy-”

“Crazy, stupid, dangerous- so much more words that I can describe-” But (Last)’s voice had caught in her throat, watching the way his eyes dimmed and he curled into himself, before her arms were once again around Midoriya, squeezing him. “...Don’t do it again”

“I won’t”

Yeah, she really doubted that.

“What happened-”

“Deku!”

(Last) rolled her eyes, arm wrapping tightly around Midoriya as she watched Bakugou sprint towards them, stopping at a distance to catch his breath before his hands curled into fists and he bellowed, head cast downwards to the pavement “I didn’t need your damn help, you stupid nerd, nor would I ever ask for it-”

“For goodness sake” Midoriya yelped when (Last) spun them around, dragging the boy away from the other as she muttered her annoyance under her breath.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!?”

“Away from you, bully!”

For a second time that day, the teen ignored the rowdy blonde, tugging the boy down the street until Bakugou’s silhouette disappeared, both releasing a sign of relief when (Last) turned to Midoriya, arms crossing and expression hard “Okay, now, I really need to know what happened-”

“I Am-”

“NOT NOW!” (Last) screeched, hands slamming over her mouth in guilt when All Might jumped, curling in on himself in surprise while apologies fell out of the girl’s mouth and screaming fell out of Midoriya’s. 

“All Might!? What are you doing here-”

“Oh my Gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you All Might-”

The hero laughed it off nervously, his hand waving about “AHAHAH, there’s no need to apologise, young lady-”

There was a sound similar to a deflating balloon, a large ‘POOF’ echoing down the street as a fog surrounded All Might. (Last) was staring with wide eyes, Midoirya was screaming loudly, arms flailing about and in the next moment, the steam cleared, revealing a skeletal looking figure in All Might’s place with blood dripping from his mouth.

“D-Dammit-”

“All Might, are you okay-”

“Uncle Toshi?” Midoriya froze in his place, turning to look at (Last) as she stared at the deflated man, eyes narrowed and mouth curled in confusion “Uncle Toshi, is that you?”

“Shit” All Might- Uncle Toshi- the man muttered, wiping away the blood from his lips. “Your parents are gonna kill me….”

The situation had turned into a difficult one. The Quirkless boy, who had no clue what was happening, his best friend, confused beyond belief and the hero, regretting every single decision he had made that very day. 

The meeting was hard enough, seeing her clinging to her friend in relief and scolding her as though she was still that child he had seen so many times. He hadn’t meant to do that, hell, that’s why he had left so early, hoping to disappear before anything clicked and, well, before he had deflated to reveal his true scrawny self. It had only become worse when Midoriya had seen his true form. 

Shit, he was in for it real bad when Sadako found out

All Might continued to hack up, arm staining with blood until (Last) removed her bag, digging into the backpack and pulling out a pack of tissues and walked over to the man, handing them to him. “Here, Toshi”

“Thank-” He coughed, grabbing one before wiping the blood from himself “Thank you, (Name)”

A few moments passed when (Last) spoke up again “Now, I want an explanation.”

---

Sadako smiled at the sound of the front door, the familiar sound of hurried footsteps prompting her to place a lid over the food she had just been preparing before making her way to the front, her loving smile strong on her pale face.

“My flower!” The Japanese woman called into the corridor as she walked over, turning the corner with brisk steps. “Welcome home-”

She caught herself at the sight of the two behind her, calling a polite but timid ‘Ojamashimasu!’ into the home before entering, kicking their shoes off after (Last). Sadako went to greet them accordingly, a question on the tip of her tongue when she noticed the tense atmosphere around them all, the famous hero seemingly cowering at the sight of her.

“What a surprise” The mother’s own smile became slightly tense, “I wasn’t expecting you two, especially you, Toshi”

All Might gulped.

The Symbol of Peace was a dead man.

Sadako pulled the two children into her usual hug, squeezing them softly while still glaring at her friend when her daughter pulled back slightly, wide eyes swirling with questioning as she called to her “Mama? Can I ask you something?”

Sadako’s own eyes softened and she smiled bright again “Yes, my flower, of course”

“Why didn’t you tell me Uncle Toshi was All Might?”

‘Nevermind dead man’ Yagi thought when Sadako’s eyes darkened, turning to glare at the hero across from her with long black hair flying upwards, ready ‘She’s gonna wipe me off the face of the Earth’ 

#mha imagine #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #hellbent fic

[rachylou555]

Possibility by Rm #lexa

The universe has such beauty. I have spent so long exploring every part of it since the loss of my people and my home. Ever searching for something, anything that will make me whole again.

Earth, such an intriguing planet with a race called humans living on it's surface. I could see their demise if they carried on with their wars and fights over religion and land. Yet it was by the hand of an artificial programme, who deemed there were too many people, that destroyed the planet that they knew.

The nuclear apocalypse destroyed what civilisation was on the surface and I watch as ships with those choosen leave the ravaged earth for space.

I weep for what was and the loss of this wonderful planet. My emotions are too raw for me to travel away from this devastated world so I choose to hibernate and allow myself and ,hopefully, this world to heal.

How long have I slept?

The Earth is green, the air is breathable. Slowly from a ship a lone female figure emerges while others remain on board, watching and being held back by a male.

The female yells someting and Caos and euthoria ensue as everyone erupts from the ship. This is why I am awake. The sounds of their laughter vibrate through me and touch my soul.

I rise unseen and watch these humans run around and explore their surroundings. They are from the stars. A generation from those who left and managed to survive in space after the apocalypse.

I am happy. I spot one female who is not running around but looking at a map. For some unknown reason, I am drawn to her. A male appears and they start up a conversation. I usually listen to other life forms feelings for communication than their language, yet i am intrigued. I have to concentrate hard as it has been a long time since I have heard words spoken and the language is unique to me.

"... mountain"

I smile. This one, princess?, has a spirit of old in a young body. She is wise beyond her years but still learning her place.

I have an urge to follow and protect her. Feelings that I thought had long since died. What is it about this woman, why is she different? I do not know but I follow her every move.

There are times that I want to intervene and help princess, no her name is Clarke, but my people had laws not to intervene but observe other races and learn through them. My hands are tied by this law and I am forced to watch Clarke and her friends fight against those that have survived on the surface.

Yes, there are people who have survived. Even I am in awe at the resilance of this race.

Those that have survived are a viscous and aggressive people but I do not judge them for it as I can not fathom what they have had to endure in order to survive.

A war begins over who has rights to the land. Clarke unites with a male Bellamy in order to create cohesion in their group. The grounder's use basic weapons to fight while Clarke and her people have guns. Yet the grounder's are able to pick them off a few at a time. Clarke and her people use their ship to destroy their enemy. Only to find another enemy hidden, waiting in the shadows.

These new people, the mountain people, are friendly to Clarke and her friends but feeling of foreboding naws inside of me. Clarke seems to be wary of them too and searches for a reason,much to the dislike of her companions, as to why they are here.

Clarke being Clarke soon stumbles on the horrific truth. The mountain people are using the grounder's blood as a cure against their radiation poison.

I realise they will stop at nothing to cure themselves of and slowly start killing Clarke's friends.

I want to scream at the loss of the young adults who have had their lives taken.

Clarke somehow finds a way to escape and I am glad to follow her away from the horror that is going to happen inside the mountain.

A lot appears to have happened since we have been inside the mountain. More of Clarke's people have come to the surface. One of whom Clarke calls mum.

A grounder army has arrived outside Arkadia in retaliation for an injustice on an unarmed village. I follow Clarke to the leader of the grounder's tent. A commander who I have heard them speak of back before the attack on the first ship.

We enter the tent. It takes me a moment to realise that the strong young women, only slightly older than Clarke, is the commander. How can someone so young be in charge.

The commander speaks

"You are the one who killed 300 of my warriors"

Clarke replies

"You're the one who sent them to kill us"

The conversation continues and I have never seen such an interaction between two people. I feel their energy and their emotions and allow them to wash over me. My own emotions begin to join in this dance and I am full of euthoria.

Time goes by and both Clarke and the Commander, Lexa, attempt to work together in order to find peace and a way to defeat the mountain. I feel Lexa's emotions begin to grow. Adoration and respect for Clarke. I realise that both Lexa and I share this bond for Clarke.

They have their disagreements and one arises in the young girl Octavia. Lexa is concerned that Ocavia will betray her. Clarke stands up to Lexa on this matter and backs Lexa against a table.

Lexa's emotions wash over me with such force that I almost phase out of time. It is only my sheer will that holds me this moment. Lexa has never had anyone talk to her the way Clarke is talking to her right now. Her emotions are that of anguish, small amount of fear yet there is something else. A feeling that I thought had died, pure Love.

My emotions are released, mixing with Lexa's, which fills my entity up with a warmth that I have not felt for centuries.

I become enthralled and captured by these two powerful young beings who, I realise, must be lost soulmates finally other time finding one another again.

Clarke is upset and uncertain after she has confronted Lexa but she has a strong will and knows that what she said had to be said. Octavia is not a threat and killing her would cause more damage especially to Clarke's close friend and Octavia' s brother Bellamy.

Later, Clarke is asked back to Lexa's tent. She is apprehensive as to what will happen as am I. Lexa is apologetic and non aggressive. Clarke is soothed by her words and her change in manner seeing a new side to this strong independent woman.

Their exchange of words are calm and careful. Both explaining their thoughts and opinions on how their life is and should be.

Clarke finishes her response to Lexa's comment of life of a grounder and it's harshness. I feel her words and would wish them true for all this race. Life should be more.

Lexa moves into Clarke and kisses her. Their emotions, again, filling and mixing with my own. Never have I felt such raw passion. Then there is a feeling of confusion and slight upset from Clarke.

She has lost so much and been through a rollercoaster of incidences that have affected her. Yet she does feel something for Lexa.

I can not leave these two soulmates and follow their journey to the mountain. An end to which Clarke gains a hallow victory with the return of most of her friends yet I feel her soul shatter as she is betrayed by Lexa and then having to kill, again, in order to save her people.

I am overwrought with sadness and anger that I can not interfere and help with the burden that lays heavily on Clarke's shoulders. Clarke leaves her people in order to heal and attempt to find her way as she struggles with all that she has done since landing back on Earth.

I am in awe of this strong young woman and I begin to search through my memories and knowledge as to a solution against the laws that I am bound to follow. Yes, me race does not exist anymore and I could break the laws but there are consequences to that which are fixed in our DNA to stop us from doing so.

It is not long before Clarke is in danger. She is taken to a place, a city, called Polaris. Her hands are tied, she is gagged and a bag covers her head. Yet I can see who is waiting for her and I'm intrigued as to what will happen and why.

Clarke's reaction when the bag is taken off is just. The anger washes over me and it is not a warmth but a furnace. I can not feel Lexa's as Clarke's are too strong and I am trying not to allow them to overpower me.

Days follow and Lexa patiently waits to have a conversation with Clarke without her anger and hurt getting in the way. Slowly the begin to talk. Lexa very tentative at first to Clarke's feelings.

I feel Lexa's guilt and remorse for abandoning Clarke at the mountain and wish I could share this with Clarke herself.

Yet I needn't worry as the deep connection that I felt from their early interaction is still there.

Another threat arises challenging both these two friendship. A line has been set and Clarke has to choose whether to stay or go. I feel how torn she is in making a decision. Being at Polos and in Lexa's company has soothed her. She has not felt this calm and free in months. Lexa has taken over her thoughts and that first kiss plays on her mind more often now.

The time has come for Clakre to leave. She finds Lexa in her room. I feel their emotions and allow them the privacy that they deserve.

I wonder the corridors of the great tower. I do not really see them though as my thoughts are with the two women whom I have become attached to in a way that is almost foreign to me. I study my own feelings and realise, without knowing it, that I love them both. I no longer feel alone but apart of something magical.

I suddenly feel Clarke. She is scared. What has happened to make her feel this way. I go to her. I arrive at the same time as Lexa. A shot goes off and I feel both Lexa's pain and Clarke's.

My mind is blank. I can not think or see. The emotions, oh the emotions, are devastating and crushing me. This can not be happening. I watch as Lexa tries to calm Clarke. Clarke barks orders for cloth to stop the bleeding. I want to leave and go anywhere other than here yet I can not abandon them.

The wound is a mortal wound and slowly Lexa is lost. I scream my agony but only I can hear it. My own heart shatters into pieces along with Clarke's.

I watch as Titus, the flame keeper, removes something from Lexa's neck. A thought creeps through my head and becomes louder with each second. I can do something now. No laws would be broken.

I slip into the open wound on Lexa's neck and wait...

I feel her slowly coming round and hope that she will understand why I had to do, what I did.

Lexa

I awake to a room that is not mine.

I AM AWAKE?? But I died, didn't I? am I in the beyond? I have heard stories about when you die you go to a place of peace.

The room is large with white smooth walls which sparkle in the sun's light. Music drifts from somewhere unknown. The sound light and melodic. A breeze drifts through the open windows.

If this is the place of rest it has a slight beauty to it. An image comes into my mind. An image of a heart breaking into pieces. Tears fill my eyes and I am not ashamed to allow them to fall. I feel this loss as if I have been cut by a million swords. It hurts. This must be how I am punished for the wrongs I've done during my life. I live this heartbreak and will be haunted by the last image of that beautiful face.

"You are not being punished. It is the last memories you have. You are safe and well now"

Lexa looks around the room. There is noone there but her.

"Who are you, show yourself" she demands

" I am Kai, and I can not show myself as I am in you"

Lexa becomes aware of feelings that are not her own and the presence of another inside her.

"What have you done to me?" Lexa whispers

"I've done nothing. We are of kindred spirits you and I. I have come home"

"Am I dead, is this a dream?"

"No, you are not dead Lexa, I could not let that happen so I bound myself to you and have healed you"

"Why? What do you want of me?"

There is only one answer to Lexa's questions and I allow my emotions to flow along with my answer.

"Clarke"

Kai's word and emotions wash over me and through me. I realise that I was not alone in my love for this one woman and somehow the two of us are connected and bound by this love.

"Oh"

Is all that I can say for a minute whilst I process it all.

I should be scared, angry and hurt that an alien lifeform has invaded my body. Yet I feel at peace and unafraid by my new companion. I realise I can read her thoughts and she shows me nothing but love, compassion and adoration.

"Where are we?"

"We are not on Earth. Something happened. Prymfire is what it was called"

My aniexty rises and i have one thought. The only thought

"Clarke?"

" Before we left I reached out for her and she was safe and alive"

I let out my breath, of which, I did not realise I was holding until then.

" We have to go back"

"We will"

I suddenly feel Kai's tiredness wash over me. She has been hiding how much healing me has affected her. I am suddenly concerned with her wellbeing and that i could loss her if she does not rest.

"Rest Kai, we will find Clarke when you are well and strong."

"Yes, rest would be good. Lexa?"

"Yes,"

"The people here know of me and now of us. They are good people and peaceful souls. Listen and learn from them while I rest. You will love them as do I. We are safe here"

"Ok I will and Kai?"

"Yes my Lexa?"

"Thank you for saving me"

There is no spoken answer but I feel the love and adoration that Kai has for me which fills me with happiness and hope, no a knowledge, that we will see Clarke again...

TBC

[dust2dust34]

Breaking Point (Olicity, S7 spec)

Summary: Everyone has a breaking point.

A/N:  This is a silly fic that I wrote last night. I really wanted to write something for Season 7, and I did a dumb thing in Blood Hands so I was jonesing for something else to dive into. Then I saw a prompt and, well, here we are. This is a silly fic, but it's also got serious undertones based on what we've seen so far for Season 7. So it's not totally light, but the subject matter is light!

(Read on AO3)

*

“It’s a good thing,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s good.”

But it wasn’t. It was bad, so bad she was three seconds away from screaming her throat raw.

Except it was a good thing, and that only made it so much worse.

Oliver had been out of Slabside for three months now, three of the hardest months of their lives. That she could think now that without crying was a minor miracle. How many more times would they be expected to go through literal hell? How much longer could they survive getting ripped apart, yanked further and further away from their Happily Ever After? Their world had seen more shattered pieces than whole ones and it’d only reached a new low when Oliver had gone to prison, leaving her alone and so angry that she nearly lost herself along with everything she held dear.

They’d survived it, though.

Barely.

It hadn’t taken them long to discover that getting back to each other had been the easy part. The outside forces bearing down on them had absolutely nothing on the bleak desolation of trying to reconnect again only to discover they’d both changed, irrevocably, and that no matter what they did or how much they wanted it, there was no going back.

She’d lost count of how many times they talked about throwing the towel in.

But at the end of the day, that wasn’t who they were, and it was that sheer stubbornness that was saving their marriage. They’d learned the hard way that it was connections like theirs - the love they shared, the life they had created together - that kept the darkness at bay.

While they still had moments of weakness, they never let go of that, or each other.

But everyone had their breaking point.

A deep, rending snore echoed from her husband’s side of the bed.

“Oh my god,” Felicity groaned. She pulled her pillow around her head, shoving it against her ears. His next one was even louder and she swore her pillow vibrated with the force of it. “Oliver.”

He didn’t wake up.

Never in her life would she have guessed that Oliver Queen snored. Probably because she had never heard such earth-splintering noises come from him in all the years they’d known each other. His bed had been throwing distance from her desk at the old foundry, and not once had she heard a single peep from him. She barely heard him breathing, much less making sounds that resembled a wrecking ball smashing their walls in. So no, snoring had never been on her list concerns when it came to this man.

It wasn’t until they were a few months into their lives in Ivy Town that she first heard just how loud he could be at night, and it hadn’t taken her long to deduce why:

He only snored when he was really, truly asleep.

When Oliver let his guard down, when he relinquished control, when he completely relaxed, that was when he snored. It had become her secret barometer for his current state of mind - only when some part of him deep down reached a certain brand of contentment did he fall asleep like this.

Another snore split the night air.

It was sweet, in a very annoying sort of way. She loved that she gave him that peace, that he was comfortable enough again to let go, falling into the kind of sleep that was more coma-like than anything. He was safe with her. She was his home, as much as he was hers. It really was sweet, so much so that she’d actually missed it, had even cried herself to sleep during those months when he’d been at Slabside, knowing that she might never get to hear it again.

All those tears had come back in a happy deluge when he started snoring for the first time in years a few nights ago.

She’d woken him up with a mess of kisses, needing to show him how grateful she was. Not only did she have her husband back, in their bed, in their home, their family back together, but it also meant that all the turmoil they’d been dealing with since he got out was starting to abate.

But then it’d happened again the next night… and the next… and last night… and tonight…

His next snore razed the frayed edges of her sanity.

Whimpering, Felicity turned away from him, burying her head under the comforter. She counted, sang a song, tried to distract herself with Smoak Technologies plans, stared at sheep jumping over a fence, shoved her fingers in her ears, nudged him with her foot, rolled into him, yanked his pillow out from under his head, trying to dislodge him so he could at least snore quieter…

But it didn’t work.

She stacked the pillows over her head, shoving them down as hard as she could.

His snores sliced through the pillows like they were tissue paper.

Felicity snapped.

With a sharp, “Oliver!” she kicked the man she loved more than life itself as hard as she could.

Oliver jerked awake with a bleary, “Wha…?”

He shot up, his hand finding her hip, making sure she was okay as he scanned the room, looking for danger.

She ignored him completely.

“Ooh,” Felicity moaned. She actually moaned. She should probably care that she’d startled her husband like that, and she would in the morning when she remembered all the renewed nightmares he still suffered from, but the silence that followed was just so blissful. She came up from under the pillows with a desperate, “Oh, that’s so much better.”

He grunted. “Snoring?”

The word was so thick with sleep she barely understood it.

Her groan was answer enough.

The mattress bounced as Oliver laid back down. He snatched his pillow back before scooting over and plastering his chest to her back. He wrapped her up in his arms, snuggling close. When he pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in, Felicity sighed and leaned back into him. She was annoyed, and tired, but he was also her husband and he felt so good. His limbs were heavy with lethargy as he kissed the nape of her neck with a murmured, “Sorry.”

“I’m really glad you don’t have that stupid beard anymore,” she whispered. He gave her an amused huff. “And yes, snoring. It’s horrible. This is the fourth. Freaking. Night, Oliver. If you drive me out of this bed, I will never forgive you.”

“I’ll stop,” he promised, the words slurring together, both of them knowing he could, in fact, not.

“If you can do that,” Felicity said, covering his arms with hers and snuggling back against him, “I will definitely, definitely make it worth your while.”

A lazy grin pulled at his lips and he nuzzled her with a low, “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she confirmed, nuzzling him back. As they relaxed into each other, she closed her eyes, giving into her very dire need for sleep. “So worth it. You won’t be able to move when I’m done with you.”

“That sounds good to me…”

His words drifted off and a second later she followed, both of them falling asleep this time.

Until he started snoring again, right in her ear.

“Damn it, Oliver!”

...

When Felicity walked into their bedroom the next night, something waited for her on her pillow: wax ear plugs.

“What are these?” she asked a sheepish Oliver.

“I mentioned to John that I’ve been keeping you up and after laughing at me for five minutes straight, he told me his dad had the same problem with his mom. He said he lived by these.”

They worked. Felicity slept through the entire glorious night and when she woke up the next morning, it was with a huge grin and plenty of energy to make good on her promise. And, just like she said, it did take Oliver several hours to crawl out of bed when she was done with him.

*

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow season 7 #arrow #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: season 7 #dust2dust34

[theskelejournals]

Lay Us Down

*[Act -> Pause] Read this one first.

Despite the fact the jukebox could have been playing, it wasn’t. The diner was silent, something that rarely happened even when the owner was on his own and cleaning. But right now, there wasn’t a single shred of music on the jukebox or the newer music system that would have fit the bartender’s current mood. He’d even tried, earlier, to find something, anything, but nothing would settle his nervous, sparking energy. He’d given up and decided to just work in silence, maneuvering bottles about the counter into three distinct groups. I’ll keep these, toss these, and leave these out for whoever wants to take them… His thought process was a simple catalog of all the liquor on the shelves in front of and behind him, sorting them all into those three groups.

A sound made it’s way past the nearly-silent crackling of flame, filling the diner for a brief moment. The bartender’s gaze strayed from his bottles, looking towards his jukebox instead with a sigh. The thought process of organization was fading away and thoughts of the memories he’d basically been assaulted with were creeping back into the forefront of his mind. Maybe I should have just gone to the house… they might be awake by now… Maybe Pap at least.

Bzzt. His phone, ever on vibrate mode, begged for his attention on the back counter. Oh, maybe that’s him. Picking up the little brick he saw it wasn’t, just an update from Sera that she and little Fuku had managed to pack up everything they needed and were headed to the surface, and could Grillby please text her when he’s getting ready to leave? He smiled gently and typed out a reply that he would, and please be safe. Still holding his phone, the bartender mulled over the idea of trying to call his sons once more, rubbing his thumb over the screen, flipping through his few pages of apps. Maybe I should call them. Sans always answers… Except earlier, when he hadn’t. But that reasoning had been discovered and excused. Hm. If they’re still exhausted I really don’t want to wake them… but I want to be sure they’re alright… Warring with himself for a few moments more, he decided to simply set his phone back down and return to sorting his bottles, trying to keep the worried frown off his face despite the fact no one was there to see it.

Ugh no I’ll. Just wait. It’s fine, it’ll be fine, they’re fine, they’re home, they’re fine. I’ll just wait for Pap or Sans to call me. Pap said he would come find me. It’s fine. The mantra he’d used for hundreds of years was still his strongest one, and he sighed again, turning to grab more of the liquor off the shelves. It’ll be fine.

His shelf-searching gained him a likely decades-old empty bottle sitting in the corner of the top shelf. Oh good heavens, how long has this been up here? … I am just going to choose to blame this one on Q. Making a face, Grillby turned to set it in the “throw away” group right as a new noise was heard. No, not really new. He'd heard it before. Just not for two years. Something in his mind, his soul, clicked in recognition. That noise belonged to someone. Wingding? Grillby’s eyes lifted as a bottle scraped across the counter, and he heard the bottle in his hand shatter before he realized he dropped it. Glass crunched under his shoes as he fell back against the counter, a hand flying to his mouth, the other gripping the counter hard, his legs felt as if they could give out any moment, and Grillby’s eyes remained wide. There was someone sitting across from him, holding their head in their hand before they lifted it, and the two monsters’ eyes locked. Suddenly it was as if the world had paused, holding its breath. Grillby’s gasp had yet to be released, just taking in the sight of the man he hadn't even remembered a few hours ago.

Wingding! My love! You're here! You're in the diner! You're here! Oh, you're here… and he was. The scientist had been the one to nudge the bottle away, his shadow was casting on the floor and the bar, he was real, he was here, he existed. And Grillby couldn't stop staring at him. Wingding. Wingding Gaster. My love. My shadow, my love, my love. He finally released the breath, unmoving besides the slow exhale. Softly, as his soul overflowed with sheer elation and surprise and the purest form of love that had ever been in his heart, a hiss sounded beneath his eyes.

The skeleton stared right back at the fire, his hand pressed hard against his ribs, over his soul. Oh god, oh god he sees me. He sees me. My light, my love, oh, oh you see me… It was all he could do to just think the mantra over and over again as he stared, frozen, locked in place by the fire’s gaze. It was in that gaze he saw the startle, but the most prominent and relieving sight was the recognition. Do you really remember me? His question was answered when the hiss sounded, the skeleton sat up straighter, slapping his free hand over his mouth with a near hysterical huff of laughter. There was relief in the sound, in the building tears in his eyes, and Gaster couldn't hide a shaky grin that appeared behind his hand.

He sees me, he sees me… There was only one more thought in his mind as the mantra once again repeated. They were both locked in each other's stare, and while he wasn't complaining, the scientist wanted to do something. Anything, if just to prove to himself once more and his bartender that he was truly here. And so he would. I know I shouldn't, but…

Sucking in a strained, shaking breath past his raw throat, Gaster quietly forced out, “...Grillby?”

At the whisper, Grillby regained the ability to move, every flame sparked back to life by the single, soft breath from his love. Wingding! He swung around the counter, almost, almost whacking his side against the corner of the bar, but it wouldn’t matter at all even if he had. Wingding was there, on the other side, he was there, turning slightly on the stool to follow Grillby as he moved. The bartender had to be near him, to touch him, hold him, to tell him once more how ardently and intensely he adored him. His pace slowed as the scientist was now two stools away, taking an almost shuddering breath, reaching out a hand. A grin stretched over his face, soft, as timid as the bartender himself. My love… do you remember…?

The look he got from Grillby spoke volumes, and the scientist continued his stare upward with wide eyes. His flame was so close now, reaching out to him, the expression sending a flutter behind his ribs as Wingding simply grinned wider. Oh my god, he does remember me, oh he does, he does… A shuddering breath escaped him, the sound nearly a laugh as he lowered his hand, unable to contain the grin on his face. Not in this moment, no, not in another hundred years. Not when it was so clear that the one he loved, the one he adored with his entire soul, remembered him.

Grillby’s own hesitation was killing him, the grin he could see on the skeleton’s face should have been proof, it should have been enough. But Grillby had always been gentle and patient with his scientist, and that would not change now. His hand softly brushed against Dings’ arm as he got close, still staring at him, lips slightly parted. The edges of a song he hadn't listened to in two years were starting to slip into his mind, an old one, a happy one. Oh, it’s him my heart has chosen… One he hadn't dared to sing in Wingding’s presence, despite having dedicated it to him decades ago. I’ve always been so timid around you, darling, all I want to do is sweep you into my arms and kiss you but I… I can’t until I know it’s okay. Just like always. And so he waited, patiently as ever, staring lovingly at his dearest friend through tears, his soul pounding away in his chest with the most wonderful rhythm he had felt in years.

It was then Gaster realized that in that face sat a question, something he hadn't seen in two years, a request. He nearly choked, not on a cough this time, but a happy sob at the sight. At the further proof of being remembered. He... wants to kiss me. He wants to kiss me. The mere thought alone sent a rush through his chest, igniting a gentle warmth he hadn't felt in so long. Beneath his dark sweater shone a glow, a light, his soul having flared to life with love and sheer happiness, something not even the black of his clothes could drown or snuff out. His grin shook with emotion, the tears breaking over his sockets as he nodded his answer.

Reaching out, the skeleton took Grillby’s hand, sucking in the softest breath as the heat and touch settled in his hand, encompassing it. I can… I can feel your warmth again. Wingding squeezed the hand following the thought, trembling as relieved, silent laughter overcame him. He was giddy, absolutely taken, nearly overwhelmed once more by being able to truly touch his love again. Mismatched eyes remained trained upward, unable to look away even if he wanted to, his mind a whirl with repeated thoughts of relief. I'm so happy to see you oh you have no idea, oh, my love, Grillby… oh Grillby, I'm here. I'm really here.

More tears broke the threshold as Grillby’s hand was taken, and he stared, entranced at the connection, the touch. His other hand moved to his chest, pressing against his soul that had yet to cease pounding. It can pound this hard for the rest of my life, I don't care. It pulses for Wingding and Wingding only and now he's here. He's back. My love, you're back. Lifting his gaze, Grillby grinned wider at the skeleton, turning to rub his eyes against his own shoulder and catching his glasses as they tried to slip off.

Taking a step forward, he lifted Gaster’s hand and pressed the bony fingers to his forehead for just a moment before lowering them and kissing them softly. Debating between tugging Dings forward or just remaining there, he finally settled for just holding Dings’ hand to his face, laughing silently, staring at his love in amazement. My Wingding, you’ve returned to me, you’ve come home, you’ve come back. You came back to me. Taking one more single step, he raised the hand that had been over his soul to cup the side of Dings’ face. His thumb trailed over the cheekbone, under the skeleton’s eye, subconsciously amping the heat in that hand and the one still holding bony fingers. Their eyes locked once more, and Grillby’s entire demeanor softened, nothing but adoration, love, and relief showing on his face. He gently smoothed under Dings’ eye once more, his softest grin yet spreading. You came back.

The warmth on his face only made the scientist grin wider, turning to nuzzle gently into the hand. Gaster’s relief was near uncontainable had it not been for the tears, trembling still with his grin while he never let the feeling of the warmth slip from his mind. Heaven help me this is real… A soft flush of purple rose to his cheekbones, and when Grillby dropped his hand to cup both sides of his face, he lifted his hand to lay it on the back of one of the warm ones, taking in every little touch he could. Warmth continued to build in his chest and around his soul, blossoming into the feeling he'd felt so many times around his dearest bartender. The love and feeling of home he encountered with no one else, the comfort of the safest place you'll ever be. Oh Grillby, I can truly feel you again…

Opening his eyes, the skeleton tilted his face out of Grillby's palm, his expression carrying nothing short of pure, relieved adoration for the man before him. He let himself get lost to the feeling, the emotion as gentle tears still gathered and broke over the edge of his eyes, not even trying to stop them. He didn't care, all he cared about was the flame holding him and that he could feel him. That Grillby remembered him. He would cry happy tears for days on end and take the hit to his pride if it meant he could convey just how much he felt for this moment. To solidify that fact, a pair of magic hands manifested beside him, and Gaster slowly mouthed along as he spelled out, “I missed you, my love.”

Grillby’s eyes shifted from Dings’ face only when he saw magic hands appear from the corner of his eye, watching them sign and grinning slowly at the words, pulling a hand back to tap at his own chest with a nod. The motion gained a loving grin from Wingding, and a nod that he understood exactly what his fire was saying. It wasn't proper sign language, more of a set of signals that he and Gaster had developed over decades. A set that he had finally remembered the source of that very night. Me too. I missed you so much. I ached for you. Lifting that hand, he pressed it to the side of Dings’ face, effectively cupping the skeleton’s skull between his hands again. His eyes locked with his love’s once more, staring into them until Gaster closed his eyes. The skeleton’s grin never faded despite the tears gathering, sniffing quietly from the emotion. Grillby smirked softly in fondness at the expression. I longed for you.

Taking the last step forward, Grillby placed himself close to the scientist, standing between his knees. Oh, I want to kiss him. Swallowing back the thought, he pressed his forehead to the skull of his dearest love. But would he… he said my love. Not friend. He said love. He knows what we are. His thumbs rubbed gently, idly, along Gaster’s cheekbones, rationalizing his thoughts. He remembers what we are. His soul was still happily pounding in his chest, the tinge of nervousness making his flames crackle ever so differently from the happy flicker. The song he hadn't listened to in two years was bubbling up in his throat, he wanted to hum it so badly. But that would have been a terrible idea, considering the disuse of his throat for two years. Can't wreck my voice further than it already is... But instead of taking the chance, he simply nuzzled softly against Dings’ forehead, enjoying the moment with a quiet sigh as Dings laughed softly and gently in return. Oh I want to kiss him so badly. He opened his eyes to sneak a glance at the skeleton, flames flickering blue for a quick second then quieting, his eyes closing once more.

Neither of them moved for a moment, just taking in the feeling of having each other near after all the time they’d spent apart. Gaster’s hand lifted to cup Grillby’s cheek lightly, his other hand pressing against the one on his face, holding it there, savoring the warmth. I’m so glad you remember me. So, so glad… Oh I’ve missed you so, so much. So much. I’m so happy to be back with you, with our sons. The closeness drew an urge forward, making the skeleton pause in thought. His soul began to beat just a little faster, thinking of the question he saw in Grillby's face moments ago. Hah I, I want to kiss him. But I just got back I can't… chase him off. Would I? In his conflicting thoughts, he lifted his hand off of the bartender’s and smoothed it tenderly, slowly over the headflames in a loving motion, huffing a silent laugh at the feeling beneath his hand. He's told me I can always kiss him, even when we weren't together. Maybe...

Gaster shifted forward and there was a soft breath on Grillby’s mouth, and the fire paused, his soul skipping a pulse. Oh. There was a brief flicker of blue in his headflames, and he leaned forward, closing the distance and finally, finally taking the kiss he had wanted so badly since he’d first seen his Dings appear in the diner. The ease that settled in both men was remarkable, relaxing into the other's touch with a peace unmet by either the past two years. Nothing has felt this good for two years… nothing at all. Grillby was already close enough to be brushing lightly against Dings every time they shifted but as their lips met he pressed in, one hand falling from the scientist’s skull to wrap that arm around his waist. Gaster left his hands where they were, in Grillby’s flames and on his face, repeating a gentle pattern of tracing his thumb along the flame’s cheekbone. Unaware to the couple, both of their souls lit up, two burning beacons lighting their kiss from underneath.

After I got my memories back I didn’t think I’d ever see you again… I should have gone back to the house. I should have just gone right there after Q sent me home. Grillby forced that regret away, choosing instead to just enjoy the fact his love is back, his dearest friend, his soulmate, his Wingding, he’d returned. The greatest gift anyone could ever ask for. He pressed into the kiss for as long as Dings let him, savoring the feeling of the bony fingers trailing through his headflames.

Gaster kept his pattern, stroking flames gently and trailing his thumb along the fire’s cheek, just as unaware as Grillby about the souls and the rest of the world around them. I've wanted to kiss you for so long. All that mattered in that moment was that he had his light again and that he let him know just how much he loved him, that his actions when they were together were not meant to tear them apart, that he just wanted them to be happy. Together. When he pulled back to breathe, Wingding let out a gentle, quiet, strained whisper, forcing the words past a closing throat.

“I love you.”

Grillby’s soul lit up brighter, a flare that went unnoticed by them both. His lips parted, happily surprised, dazed by the sound of Gaster’s voice, albeit strained. It was something he hadn’t heard in two years, a sound he hadn’t remembered at all. Hearing it again was like suddenly smelling the exact scent of cookies your grandmother had baked when you were small. Like tasting the cold and moisture in the air right before the first snowfall of the year. Like the warmth and comfort of coming home after a very long day of work. It was home, it was safe. It was Wingding.

Before Grillby could respond or break out of his trance, Dings kissed him again, the hand that was in his headflames stopping its pattern and moving to Grillby’s shoulder. Both of the fire’s arms went around Dings’ waist and he laughed silently into their kiss, happily, giddily. There was nothing in the world that could make this moment better. Grillby leaned his love back just slightly, dipping him back and keeping his arms strong around him as they kissed. Gaster responded with a soft laugh of his own, his thoughts spinning in a blissful cloud. I really do want to be with you. God I really do. I still have so much to explain, to apologize for... But right now, I just want to hold you and kiss you. And never let you forget how much I adore you.

As the kiss broke slowly, Grillby’s flames, every single one of them, crackled in delight. He couldn’t contain his giddiness and it was showing through every flicker of delighted, bright orange fire. He gently pulled away, holding onto Dings’ hands as he did, moving towards the jukebox. There was a song in the back of his head and he needed to play it. Gaster’s hands dropped to his lap as their fingers trailed apart, and he watched curiously, happily, as his flame moved. I'm so glad you're happy again, heh you're glowing again, it's so wonderful. As he realized where his love was headed, his hand moved up subconsciously to press over his soul. The last time he’d watched Grillby play music hadn’t been pretty, hadn’t been pleasant to see. A small worry tugged at his soul that the reaction may happen again.

Plugging the jukebox back in and quickly flipping through the music, Grillby finally settled on the one song he’d wanted to listen to for two years. He could never explain why until now. Until he’d realized who the song belonged to. He turned to face Dings as the music started, and tucked his hands in his pockets with a gentle grin, rocking back on his heels. With the action he looked much more like his younger self, the fire who’d hid behind the kitchen door blushing as he spotted the scientist coming in. With the motion, Gaster relaxed, seeing the grin and noting that he wasn’t rushing to turn it off this time, not cringing against pain in his soul. No, this time all Grillby could feel was love, happiness, and gratefulness. The flame’s entire demeanour had Gaster grinning wider, pressing the hand harder to his ribs not in pain, but in adoration, the love he felt for this flame, and he found himself wondering if the song meant exactly what  Grillby had told him years ago. It didn’t matter at that moment, he just wanted to watch as his love stood there quietly, swaying to the music as Grillby looked back with that same tender grin.

Deciding he needed to say something, anything since he couldn’t sing along, Grillby lifted his hands and signed out: “I love you with all my soul.” Gaster’s grin softened into the most tender smile, nodding and moving his hand from his chest to sign back.

“As do I. I truly do.” His soul flashed under his sweater softly as if to confirm the phrase, and the scientist raised his arm to rub his sleeve against his eyes, shoving his glasses up a little. “I've missed you so very much. I'm so sorry for what happened.” With the apology, Gaster glanced down to his lap, wishing so desperately that he could stand and embrace his love, to sway with him to the music. He’d missed the tunes, the happy crackling of flames, the bright glow that he so adored. I tried before not long ago and I don't think I can stand. Forgive me, my light. There was a soft touch to his face and Gaster lifted his head to find his flame back at his side, gently wiping his tears away and kissing his cheekbones. Gaster leaned into the touches with closed eyes, grinning at the soft kisses, and opening them after a moment as he felt his light pull back. Grillby had lifted his hands to sign again.

“It’s okay. I knew it wasn’t you,” the bartender spelled out, “I knew it was something else. I knew you’d never act that way on purpose.”

Gaster’s shoulders sank in relief at the words, his face relaxed as he swallowed back emotion just from those words alone. You knew… of course. Of course you would. It’s you. You’ve always been able to read me. Heh, Sans was right, as always. His eyes were filling up with tears, filled to the brim with sheer relief that his love had understood and forgiven him. He looked up once more as Grillby rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin forming. Then the fire’s hands moved to spell out something else.

“I lied to you before,” the bartender confessed, “This is a love song. Not a ghost story. I couldn’t tell you that when you asked, I was embarrassed.” When he finished his sentence, Grillby laid his hands back on Dings’ face as the skeleton furrowed his brow softly. After the words processed, the skeleton simply let out a quiet laugh, nuzzling softly into the warm hands. His earlier thought had been proven.

The touches were easing them both, soothing the pain and suffering from two years of being torn apart, the near painful fatigue in Gaster’s soul. Nothing else mattered at that point. They remembered each other and remembered their love, remembered they belonged together. Grillby leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, and they both just sat there and savored the simple fact they could touch each other again until Gaster shifted and tapped the back of one of Grillby’s hands. He had something to say.

“But why were you embarrassed about this one? You weren’t the others.”  The ever-curious scientist already had a hypothesis forming in his head, it would only take a few words from his fire to prove it. His hand moved back to Grillby’s cheek as he finished signing, wanting to constantly touch him, to remind himself that he was real again, he was there. Grillby grinned sheepishly once again, reaching up to smooth his flames before lowering the hand to sign back.

“Because when you asked me what it translated to, I was already in love with you. I was too shy to tell you. Every time this song came on while you were here I thought about it, but it never felt like the right time.” Somehow his timidness and shyness translated even into his signing, and light blue dusted through his flames as he got ever closer to confessing the one thing he’d sworn never to tell. Gaster’s brows rose at the words, and he smiled wider in adoration at his fire.

That was a hundred years ago… oh Grillby, I knew I was blind but my ignorance knows no bounds it seems. He rubbed a thumb over his love’s cheek, shaking his head softly at himself, then pulled away to sign as Grillby rubbed his hands through his flames. “So. Does that mean that…” His signing paused as Grillby’s hand moved and settled over the scientist’s chest, over his soul, and Gaster sucked in a soft breath and immediately laid a hand over Grillby’s. The dull ache that remained evaporated like a fog at the touch near his soul. Gaster grinned wider and closed his eyes, his other hand laying over his mouth for a moment, nearly overwhelmed again by the happiness, the proof, the warmth. I’m back, my sons remember me, you remember me, you’re here, I… I don’t think anything could be better. Nothing. Nothing in the world.

He lifted his near tearful gaze again, signing to finish his first thought. “Does that mean that you meant this song for me?” As he finished he moved his hand back to the fire’s warm one, pressing it lightly into his chest as the soul underneath pulsed a strong, steady rhythm, glowing brightly enough to outline the fingers over it. Grillby grinned wide as he was caught, putting his other hand over his mouth with a nod. Gently pulling his hand away, he signed back.

“Yes. Oh yes Dings. This has always been my song to you.” His already-tinged-blue flames grew more blue, and he slipped his hand back under Gaster’s to press it lightly against his soul again, finally noticing the glow from both and grinning tenderly, lifting his gaze to his love. Gaster’s face was dusted with purple, his soul had skipped, and he couldn’t help but grin lovingly back at his light.

No wonder you get so happy when it comes on, oh... Oh my light. He looked back down at the hand, shaking softly with quiet laughter, then looked back up, moving his hands to sign. “It's always been one of my favorites. Because it sounds so nice. And because it always made you grin so wide. I loved seeing it.” The silent confession made him blush a bit more, and his normal shyness started to return. He grinned up at Grillby warmly, lovingly, wishing in that moment more than ever that he knew the true translation to the song. His gaze moved down with a gentle sigh, and he smiled tenderly as he noticed the glow under Grillby’s shirt, moving the smile and gaze back to his bartender’s face. They were both softly outlined by love and happiness, glowing with relief and contentment. Grillby’s hand remained on Gaster’s chest for a moment longer then pulled back, he had decided to do it, to confess the very thing he’d held in his soul for nearly two hundred years.

“The main line of the chorus is ‘it’s him my heart has chosen.’ That’s why it’s your song. Because my heart chose you so very long ago.” His hand moved to rub through his flames again, they were flickering nervously. That same hand lowered to cover his mouth for a moment before moving it to Dings’ face, revealing a wide grin. He pressed his hand lightly against Dings’ cheekbone, smiling lovingly at him as he fought off the blue tinge in his headflames. The fire couldn’t stay still with the slight nervousness still coursing through his system, and disguised it well by constantly touching his love. Dings’ hands moved to Grillby’s waist, watching his hands as they moved, then as soon as the fire was finished the scientist’s hand moved back to his chest. The adoring smile spread over his face once more, and he focused it right on the bartender.

And mine had chosen you too. I just couldn't see it for… a long time. But it was always you. The confession was freeing, it lifted a weight from Gaster’s shoulders that he didn't realize he had been carrying. Gaster tilted his head lightly into Grillby’s hand, and they stared at each other quietly, peacefully, contentedly. With a soft breath of a sigh, Grillby pressed his forehead softly to Gaster’s, mulling over a thought.

I love you so dearly… He thought, glancing quickly at his scientist before shifting and leaning further, pressing his mouth close to where Dings’ ear would be. A swallow, another breath, pressing his mouth closer before he forced a soft, strained whisper from his lips. It was hardly audible even to himself, he doubted Gaster would hear a single bit of it. But he needed to say it anyways, he needed to let these words be in the air. “I love you.”

At the soft whisper, the scientist gasped, his eyes opening wide as his soul fluttered. He pulled back to stare at the fire, lips parted. Did… did he just speak? His expression was one of sheer surprise, pleased shock as his brows arched. Gaster’s hand moved to trail over Grillby’s collarbone and throat gently, his eyes tearing up as a watery grin spread. Magic hands appeared near his shoulder, spelling out “You spoke!” His laugh crossed between that and a happy sob, throwing his arms around the flame and squeezing him close. Grillby laughed, silently and breathily, hugging his love close and nuzzling softly against his skull. You spoke, you spoke, oh it was quiet but I don't care, I heard your voice..! And it was specifically for me, oh my light, my Grillby...

He heard, oh I'm so glad, I don't think I would be able to repeat myself, oh he heard, he heard. Not wanting to let go of the skeleton, he simply squeezed him closer, grinning away and swaying softly to the next song that came on the jukebox. Oh my Dings. My dear sweet Dings. Grillby’s hand moved to press gently over Dings’ soul on his back, still nuzzling his skull. In his arms, the skeleton shook with silent, happy laughter, rubbing his face into Grillby’s shoulder to wipe away his elated tears. His skull moved, gently resting against the side of the flame’s head as the pair remained there, embracing each other. It was all they could do in that moment just to hold onto one another, letting the once silent diner flood with the old, happy tunes and their otherwise peaceful, content silence.

Sometime after, there was a noise. Gaster and his bartender startled at the noise, looking toward the kitchen toward the sound of a chiming clock. That sounds like midnight’s bell… is it already that late? Gaster looked upward at the same time the flame looked back at him, and in return he received a signature soft smile. Grinning back, the skeleton leaned up gently to meet Grillby ducking down for a kiss on the final chime of the clock. Each man wrapped an arm around the other, the opposing hand going up to cup one of their cheeks. They held one another as they kissed, letting the echo of the final chime fade into the sound of the music. Every bit of love and tenderness passed through that one motion, keeping the other close, gentle bliss settling over them. It’s a new day… It’s a new start. This will. Heh this will be the first official day I’m back. And…

Gaster had a thought. Two years ago, not quite to the day, he had fallen. Regardless, the day, this day, was significant. He’d vaguely made note of it back at the house of his sons, but had been so tired it hadn’t truly clicked until now. It is a new day… Then let’s start it off right.

Breaking the kiss gently, Dings pulled away enough only to clear his throat. A quiet cough followed, before he sucked in a careful breath as he mustered up what power he had left to speak, grappling for the sounds, whispering the next words with a loving grin.

“Happy birthday, Grillby.”

#undertale #grillster #gaster #grillby #dr gaster #undertale stories #return #7thhuman #HERE WE ARE FOLKS #THE MOMENT WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE THE FALL #WHOO WHOO #the boys are back ahhhh

[cajunquandary]

House of the Rising Sun

Characters: Sam, Dean, Hunter!Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence, poltergeist activity, angst

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Sam and Dean run into another hunter while working a case at a haunted house in New Orleans when they get trapped. With time working against them, they are surprised to discover the deep history of the house and the nature of its inhabitants and are forced to make a hard call.

A/N: House of the Rising Sun is an old folksong and many people have done covers of it, but The Animals did my favorite version. It’s one of my top three favorite songs. While listening to it a few days ago, the ideas for this fic came flooding to me. I hope you enjoy it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2oKRKZnEoA

The doors of the Impala squeaked open as Sam and Dean slowly emerged, not once taking their eyes off of the two-story Victorian beauty that stood before them. While her many layers of paint were chipped and falling from her like snow every time the wind blew, her boards moaning in protest, some spindles and a few bricks missing here and there, she still stood tall and magnificent. Sam wondered what she’d looked like in full glory back in her day, knowing that the smudgy black and white photo clippings from news articles hadn’t done her justice. Dean shivered involuntarily when his eyes followed her dips and curves to the big golden sun amulet suspended on the second story balcony, and the weathered sign dangling from it that said “Rising Sun Casino.”

As massive as the home was, it was a blip compared to the giant casinos the boys had passed on their drive down. The neighborhood around her was just as empty, most just lots with mangled foundations where businesses and houses once stood. Chain link fences and trash littered the area, and grass grew in patches, thick and full, but not near the house. No—the entire acre was nothing but red clay and black dirt. The house itself bleached from its former vibrant blue, purple, and yellow to a white-washed gray, except for the golden amulet. Somehow, it seemed to glow, possibly even vibrate if you stared hard enough.

“Dean… maybe we should get back up.”

“What, Sammy, afraid of a few ghosts?”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, who had broken his eerie concentration and began to gather the necessary tools. “I’m just not so sure we should be doing this alone. We don’t know how many ghosts are in there, or how old and angry they are. You know like a hundred people or more have died here?”

“Yeah, yeah. You gave me the speech already. Prostitutes, gamblers, drunks, a few unlucky city workers, etcetera etcetera.”

“Not just that, but weird things have been happening here since it was made into a casino a century ago. Before that, it was a plantation home.”

“I get it Sam. Hey,” Dean slammed the trunk closed, arms full of extra salt and the usual duffle bag. “The other hunter should be here. She called and asked for help, so we’re her backup. What was her name?”

Sam helped take some of the boxes from Dean’s arms before they all toppled over. “Y/N, I think.”

“Yeah, Y/N should be here already. That’s probably her car.” Dean nodded towards the little diesel Volkswagen, grimacing slightly at the shape it was in. Sure, maybe it ran, but one of the tires was newly flat and the windshield was nearly shattered, not to mention the various dents on the body and missing front bumper. He glanced back towards the Impala lovingly, “I’d never treat you like that, Baby.”

Sam turned on his EMF reader, and they slowly approached the porch, watching all the windows that weren’t boarded up carefully as the last rays of the day shot through the shadows behind them.

“Here we go. Remember, the city is coming in to attempt demolition again. Last time, the entire crew was slaughtered. We have to get this done, and we only have three days.”

Dean eyed his brother cockily. “I’ll do it in one.”

The EMF reader went wild, the air around the boys dropping suddenly. The floorboards of the porch groaned beneath them angrily and the house seemed to move on its own. Just as they were fumbling for the salt guns, everything stopped as quickly as it’d begun. Sam swallowed hard and Dean flinched as you spun around the corner and stood in the doorway, facing them.

“Well don’t stand there all day, get in here, Winchester!” You put your hands on your hips in irritation, oblivious to the previous drop in temperature and quaking. You’d been in the house for a few days already and were in absolutely NO mood for tomfoolery, dried blood on your face and arms from wounds sustained during the stay so far. “And you can put that EMF reader away, the place is crawling with Death-Echoes and possibly a poltergeist.”

Sam and Dean, wide-eyed and worried, stepped over the threshold. Dean asked if you were okay, but you shrugged him away with a cold “I’m fine.” Sam tried to shake the feeling of hopelessness and dread that washed over him. There was no doubt that this place was evil—the boys knew real evil, and some of it was here with them in this house.

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one

 Day One

The three sat huddled around the small flame in the grand fireplace at the center of the house, a salt circle around them. “Man, you couldn’t pack anything better than tuna?” Dean griped at Sam, sniffing the can suspiciously and pouting.

“You’re lucky I packed anything at all.”

“Well, we’ve been here for eight hours already, the sun’s gonna be up soon, and I haven’t seen a single ghost! EMF is still going crazy though. I’m hungry and bored, man.”

Dean offered you the can of tuna, but you held up your hand and graciously passed. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Sam scooped the last of his can into his mouth, chewing twice and swallowing. “So what got you started hunting, Y/N? You’re pretty young.”

My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin man

Down in New Orleans

 “I’m twenty two, thanks, and I’ve got the soul of an old man. My mom was a teacher, and my dad was in the air force, both for thirty years. A vamp got them downtown one day after an anniversary trip to a casino. My sister and I got out, but my sister went into the system and I lost her, she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Somehow their deaths were my fault. She needed someone to blame, and I was convenient. I chased the truth though, and here I am. She’s off at some fancy college now, and that’s where she should stay. She deserves a life.”

Dean looked to Sam, the guilt there he felt for dragging Sam back into the life evident even though he knew it would’ve happened anyway. “So where were the death echoes? What were they?”

“A few were service ladies here and there, murdered by their bosses and clients. A few others were gamblers gutted over debts, servants beaten to death, a few hung themselves in their rooms, you know, a normal spattering considering the history of this place.”

“And you said there might be a poltergeist?”

“Possibly, I think there is one seriously pissed off Egyptian ghost trapping everyone here. There are so many… sometimes it’s quiet, but others… it’s like hundreds of them all at once.” You remembered back to the first time you’d seen them. It had come all at once—one, two, four, twenty, two hundred, maybe more. This truly was one of the most haunted places you’d ever seen in your hunting career. Caught off guard by the sheer immensity of the moment, you’d been thrown backwards by an invisible force, hitting your head hard enough to pass out after a moment more of watching the echoes, vision blurring to black. When you’d come to, you’d called for back-up, the number Garth had left you for “just in case” some years ago. Your head pounded the whole time, and it was a wonder your message had been audible at all through the slurs of pain. Not but an hour later, you’d attempted to get to your feet when the echoes began again, this time with your iron rounds loaded and ready to take out the invisible ghost that’d thrown you. You aimed the direction it had come from before, shooting when the air began to whip around you. The force didn’t even flinch, and you looked around in horror as you realized that the force filled the entire house, radiating from every wall, door, window, floor, and ceiling. You went flying again, dragged all the way to the basement and tossed against the damp stone wall. It was there that you laid still and silent, hiding until you heard the Impala roll up.

Sam brought you back to the present. “Egyptian? Does it have something to do with the amulet outside? It looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where it’s from.”

You sighed, pulling your legs in closer, careful not to disturb the salt line. “It’s the amulet of Akhenaten, or originally, Amenhotep IV. He was an Egyptian pharaoh who ruled for seventeen years, known for abandoning many traditional views like polytheism and introduced worship around Aten, a solar deity who was supposed to bring great bounty.”

Dean scooched closer to the fire, the light reflecting beautifully off of his face and casting curious shadows across his eyes. “I take it not many people liked that.”

“That’s an understatement. They tore down his monuments, destroyed everything he’d done and built. All of his symbols and legacies. It’s rumored that he sold his soul to have the power of a god. He wanted to strike down his enemies, make them suffer. He lost his mind though, and I think he is still linked to the amulet outside. The problem is, every time anyone has tried to steal, vandalize, move, or adjust it, they die. Instantly. It’s made of pure gold, so many have tried.”

Dean nodded along, muttering a sarcastic “Great.”

Sam actually looked somewhat excited. “That’s cool! We’ve never come across an Egyptian pharaoh. How do we get to the amulet, though? If Akhenaten has become a poltergeist, does it matter? Is he keeping the ghosts here? Because there’s no mentions of hauntings until that amulet got here.”

“I think he is. I mean, they destroyed everything he worked for, he just wants attention. I haven’t seen him, but—“

Dean interrupted, “Wait, wait, wait. Poltergeists are attached to places where big evil has manifested, right? Like old demons? So what? Were the ‘ladies’ here summoning demons?”

“It’s possible, Dean. The people who came here were desperate, they came hoping for better lives but only found corruption, pain, and death—sin and misery. There’s no telling what could’ve gone down under this roof.”

As if on que, the fire flickered nearly out, causing Dean to jump back in concern. Sam whipped his head around, searching for the source. The three of you slowly got to your feet as the salt circle around you dissipated, seeming to melt into the floorboards. You gulped hard, the Winchesters already shouldering their shotguns. Just as it’d happened before, the death echoes appeared. One, two, four, twenty, two hundred. “Get ready!” You shouted over the growing din. You sunk back behind the large men, already in fear of what was to come. The wind in the room picked up, whipping the jacket around you, the boys shooting into the fray wildly, reloading faster than you knew anyone could. You were flying through the air again, the invisible force tearing at you violently and you screamed, struggling as it whipped you from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and down the hall and to the basement.

When you woke, the sun was shining through the cracks in the boards on the windows. Carefully, you picked your way up the stairs back to the first level of the house, then up to the second, where Sam and Dean were trying desperately to break open the windows, doors, walls, anything to get outside.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was small, quivering.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exploded, sending the iron crowbar flying across the room until it lodged into the wall only inches from your head.

“Dean! Watch it! You nearly killed me!”

“We’re trapped. There’s no way out. How the hell are we supposed to kill this thing?”

“Well, if we could get one of the death echoes to realize that it’s dead, release it from its cycle, but convince it to destroy itself and attack the poltergeist, maybe. But even then, it might take several echoes to be strong enough to do it.” Sam looked exasperated, leaning against the wall and staring up at the ceiling that seemed all too close now.

“That’s not a bad idea, Sam. Tonight, let’s stir them up and see what we can do,” You offered, but Sam never looked up. Dean walked towards you and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” as he pulled the iron from the wall.

You smiled at him, unable to remain angry. You were far too tired for that. Soon, the boys were leaning together in a corner of the room, weapons across their laps at the ready, powering down for a nap before the sun set. Dean gasped and tensed, looking just over your shoulder, and you jumped to follow his gaze.

“What?!” You startled.

“I thought I saw something.” Dean shrugged it off.

Sam traded a sad look with his brother, and offered to stay up. Dean obliged, knowing that the best way to protect Sammy was when he’d had at least a few minutes of shut eye. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake here.

“Sam, I’ll stay up and keep watch. You guys get some rest, I think I got enough earlier. Get some sleep.” You settled down next to Sam, who began to shiver lightly, pulling his coat tighter around him. It wasn’t long before he was asleep as well, the brothers wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

Day Two

For nearly four hours, the house was silent, except for the occasional creaks and whispers of the old boards. The sun had set, and from what you could see outside, there wasn’t so much as a star in the sky. You could see nothing beyond your fingertips as you held them out. You struck a match and lit the old oil lamp close to you, not wanting to disturb the boys by reaching for their flashlights. What had happened to all your own gear? You couldn’t remember. No surprise really, after the beating you’d been through in the last few days.

Dean stirred with a gentle, tired moan with the illumination, and opened his eyes slowly at first, then wide when he looked at you. “Y/N…”

“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you okay?”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenching and eyes red-rimmed.

“Hey, I promise we’ll get out of here soon. Let’s try to talk to the echoes from here tonight, okay?” You tried to sound more reassuring than you’d felt, suddenly upset with yourself for bringing them into this and not leaving when you had the chance.

“I-I’m okay,” He whispered, amazement in his eyes. He gently shifted Sam from his shoulder to the wall and moved closer to you, his eyes not leaving you once. “How… How are you?”

“Alright, I guess. I got thrown pretty hard again. Honestly I’m surprised that my head doesn’t hurt as bad as it did the first time.”

“Why?”

“Why, what, Dean?”

“Why did you start hunting? I mean, I know why, but why did you keep going after you killed the vamp? You were so young…”

Now the only thing a gambler needs

Is a suitcase and a trunk

And the only time he’s satisfied

Is when he’s on a drunk

“Hey, I know I’m young but that doesn’t mean I’ll be doing this forever. I just wanted to help out around town. I had friends that needed help, then they had friends who did, too. I guess I just kinda got sucked into it. I’ve got plans though. I’d like to travel a little, I never have gotten out much. I don’t need any big life, just a little one. Me and the open road, fighting the bad guys. Yeah, I like that. Like you.” You gazed into the distance, eyes full of hope and longing. When you finally turned back to face him, Dean had a tear streak down his face.

“Trust me, that life ain’t nothin special.”

“Maybe not, but it’s better than what I’ve got here. I’ve always loved the open road, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt… satisfied, you know? I’ll fight anything any day, but I like to run, leave everything in the rearview. Just, bust into town, save the day, and out again.”

Dean just nodded grimly. From Garth’s description, the Winchesters seemed larger than life, maybe a little brooding, but mostly powerful, like they could take on anything and win without hardly breaking a sweat. To see the boys looking so small, so human, compared to the legends they were made to be put a dull ache in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t be hopeful of an escape.

“Sam. Sammy!” Dean shouted as the temperature dropped lower, enough now that he could see his breath in the air. It was mid-summer, so none of you had dressed for the frigid atmosphere of the house at all times of day. Really, it only ever seemed to get colder. Still, the drops were a reliable warning. Dean crawled quickly to his brother, shaking him awake. Sam gripped his gun and pulled it to the ready out of reflex, catching your gaze and holding it, a loud gasp leaving his lips as he looked around, clearing the rest of the room. “Sam, no…”

The brothers traded a look you couldn’t decipher and Dean tapped his temple and shook his head slowly, helping Sam to his feet. The room was still. Too still. You could hear the brother’s heartbeats, racing, as yours must be.

The echoes began, but this time, you and the Winchesters were able to release a few before the invisible force of Akhenaten found you. The boys were thrown first, Dean recovering more quickly than Sam, screaming above the noise, and you were flying through the air again, the boys chasing after you. Before you knew it, you were back in the main room, ashes from last night’s fire scattered and suspended like snow in the air. You fought back, but once again, the poltergeist got the better of you and threw you down the stairs to the basement.

It wasn’t long before you’d come back around, choking in the mustiness of the moldy room. Worried about the other hunters, you bolted up the stairs, searching for them in the usual places, but finding them locked in a bathroom on the first floor. You opened the heavy door and tried to step over the threshold, but something was keeping you at bay. Before you could think of why, Dean stepped forward, Sam right behind him.

Sam’s mouth was pressed in a tight line. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Would y’all quit asking me that? I’m more worried about you two. Garth gave me the impression that you knew what you were doing and could handle a tricky situation like this.”

“Trust me sweetheart, there’s not much that could’ve prepared us for this.” Dean pushed past you, ever careful not to touch you, as you’d made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be touched in the first five minutes of meeting them. Now though, you almost craved the touch. When was the last time you’d been warm? When was the last time you’d had some human contact? Surely it’d been weeks. Maybe you could steal a lean at some point. Something—anything—to ground you and remind you of the warm world waiting for you outside those doors. Somewhere beyond this House of the Rising Sun was the sun rising and spreading its heat, and oh, how you longed for it, more than food, water, or anything you’d ever craved, you craved that.

You sighed, lost in thought, the boys already back in the main room, voices raising in argument. Curious, you resigned and followed. Sam stopped mid-sentence, unable to continue in your presence.

Oh Mother, tell your children

Not to do what I have done

Spend your lives in sin and misery

In the house of the Rising Sun

Dean turned towards you, nothing but hurt and anger in his eyes. “You want to fight monsters?”

“I do fight monsters, Dean.” What was he getting at?

“You sure? Okay. Then you sure as hell better be willing to become one yourself, ‘cause you know what? At the end of the day, somebody gets eaten. Somebody dies. Me and Sam? We’ve both been monsters. We’ve both died. Several times. And you know, I’m not totally sure that I ever stopped being a monster. That’s what this life does to you. To everyone. There’s no escaping it, not really.”

He was almost nose to nose with you now, and you could smell the whiskey on his breath. He must have more than holy water in those canteens.

“Dean, I know! Y—“

“No, you don’t, Y/N… not really.” Sam’s quiet interjection drew your and Dean’s attention, and the tension dissipated into something more morose, thickening the air.

“What don’t I know, Sam?” You whispered, suddenly afraid of the answer.

“You’re a death echo, too. You’re a ghost.”

The air seemed too stale now, stifling. The room was too small and too big, too hot and too cold, too bright and too dark. “What do you mean? I don’t understand?”

Dean took a step toward you, but you jerked away from his touch. “Y/N… We found your body in the basement after the first day. You’ve been dead for a few days, your body was already cold and stiff by the time we arrived. You’re the reason the EMF is always going haywire.”

“No… no. You’re lying.” You shook your head, backing away slowly.

Dean continued softly, “Then, you disappeared after the first echo event we saw. You reappeared right before the second, but I could tell you didn’t know you were dead. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… We should have been here sooner. I should’ve driven faster. I didn’t know…”

Your voice sounded foreign and distant, “So all this time? When you threw the crowbar? You apologized for almost hitting me.”

Dean looked up then, knowing that you must have thought you were part of the conversation. “We couldn’t see you. I apologized because you died before I could save you.”

It was then you realized that in all the times you were thrown into the basement, never once had you looked down, never seen your pale, broken body crumpled and tossed to the side.

Day Three

“Okay. We’re going to destroy this thing. Let’s start in the basement.” You’d had a little while to try to come to terms with your predicament.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should stay up here while we dig around.” Sam shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

“I can handle it. Besides, I’m probably the only one here who is fluent in old Egyptian hieroglyphs AND Cajun voodoo. You need me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I used to do a lot of things,” You snapped.

“Okay, just don’t… ghost out on us.” Dean shouldered the bag of weapons and opened the door leading to the basement, flashlight at the ready to reach the edges where sunlight couldn’t. The brothers had tea tree oil dipped bandanas wrapped around their faces in preparation of the rancid smell of the lowest level of the house. If there was ever one true smell of death, this was it, the masks hardly able to make it bearable.

You tried to avoid looking at your remains, knowing that if you lingered too long, you would lose too much humanity and would be unable to complete your mission. And as your last, this was arguably the most important.

You nearly walked through Sam, making him shiver and jump slightly, but the boys’ eyes never left the wall. You followed their gaze to find old sigils, broken demon traps, but most of all, GET OUT written in what appeared to be your own blood. Even as disturbing as the image was, you couldn’t help but to scoff at the unoriginality of the threat. The brothers slowly turned to look at you, brows furrowed and Dean’s mouth slightly open, as he breathed “Really?” in response to your nonchalant reaction. You shrugged.

“What? I’m already dead. What do I have to fear?” You crossed your arms. You didn’t remember being this grumpy in life, but hey—you were freakin dead so who gives a damn? You wouldn’t be around long enough to become a vengeful spirit anyway, you all knew what had to be done. You had every right to be pissy and sarcastic.

While the house was largely void of any furniture or proof that people had ever actually lived or worked here, there were a few books still scattered about the basement, along with spell-casting ingredients, from feathers, bones, bowls, knives, and other nefarious items.

“Witches man,” Dean grumbled under his breath, beginning a rant that only he could hear.

Sam sighed and started flipping through one of the leather bound spell books. “Hey, get this, so they summoned demons here all the time to make deals, and even tried to put a leash on Akhenaten, often making sacrifices in his name.”

“Well that backfired.” Dean joined his brother’s side, eyes narrowed as he tried to see what Sam did. “And let me guess, when the sacrifices stopped, the angry dead king got pissed and started killing and trapping the souls here.”

You paced around the room, trying to remember the hieroglyphs of protection and purification. It only took a moment, and you picked up a small bowl and searched through the ingredients, finding sage, salt, griffin feather, and finally holy oil from Dean’s duffle.

You’d caught their attention and they watched you closely. You stood before them, not wanting to ask for the final ingredient. Sam nodded first, blinking hard and reaching for his knife, positioning it over his forearm. Dean grasped his hand, stopping Sam before he made the cut.

“I’ll do it.” Dean took his own knife and opened a vein into the bowl before Sam could protest.

“Thanks, Dean. I’d use my own, but… You know.” When there was enough of the foul mixture, you stood to begin destroying the current sigils and replacing them with new ones—some that would hopefully weaken the poltergeist enough for you to destroy it. You tried not to think about what might happen after the fight. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it transforms from one form to another. You held onto this knowledge, hoping that there wasn’t just nothingness or pain on the other-other side.

The sun was beginning to set again.

The house was covered in sigils and protection symbols now, and lined with salt to keep anything from escaping. You stared at the Winchesters, drinking in their apparent strength and beauty. You wanted to memorize them, as they would be the last warm thing you’d ever know. You were quiet, locked within yourself, chest full of icy cement. Your eyes stung, but remained perfectly dry. The house was silent, air stale with the weight of your coming sacrifice in the room. No one wanted to talk about it. Dean had already made it clear that he would do anything else if he could, but understandably, protecting Sam was his priority, as well it should be. When Dean felt your eyes on him, he lifted to meet your gaze, eyes sunken and red rimmed from lack of sustenance and sleep. You knew the men were running on empty. You prayed that you’d be strong enough to beat this thing.

The moment the death echoes started, Sam jumped to his feet and slapped his bloody palm to the nearest sigil, dissipating the ghosts temporarily, along with you. You faded from their sight, but remained in the room, suddenly face to face with the pharaoh. You swallowed hard, taking one last glance at the Winchesters, who were looking all around, searching for the source of the wind that whipped about them. With a flick of his hand, the old king sent the men flying backwards. A deeper rage than you’d ever felt before ignited within you, and you surged towards the evil entity.

Well, I’ve got one foot on the platform

The other foot on the train

I’m going back to New Orleans

To wear that ball and chain

The Winchesters looked on in a heap on the floor together, arms over their faces as your bright white light spun twisted and neutralized the black wiry smoke of the poltergeist. The house quaked, dust and debris beginning to fall from the ceiling, pieces of wall collapsing. In one last violent shriek and flash of blinding light, everything was over. Even though it was the middle of the night, light from outside the house finally filtered through, illuminating the damage. The brothers helped each other to their unsteady feet, blinking and adjusting. They could hear the wind and crickets outside now. Dean ran to the front door and found that it had swung open. At last, they were free. Dean smiled then turned to look back at Sam.

Sam stood in awe, watching little orbs slowly find their way through the roof and on towards heaven, Dean joining in his wonder. You were gone, but your sacrifice freed hundreds. Dean wiped at the tear forming in his eye and patted his brother on the back. “Come on, Sammy, our work’s not done.”

Sam nodded, following Dean to the basement to collect your remains. Just as the sun crested on the horizon, Dean lit your pyre. The boys stood there just long enough to make sure you had a proper hunter’s funeral, then moved to leave. “Wait Dean.”

Sam pointed to the sun amulet. He ran back into the house and came out to the balcony, easily unhooking it from old weathered hooks that nearly crumbled in his hands. He planned on adding this to the Men of Letters inventory of possibly cursed objects and lost artifacts. The Impala growled to life below him, and he sprinted back to the car, knowing Dean would make him walk for a few miles if he didn’t hurry.

Sam jumped in Baby just as Dean put her in reverse. “Man, I never wanna come back here again. Let’s go get some grub and a bed. What say you, Sammy?”

Sam looked at the golden tablet in his hands. “Yeah, I’m pooped.”

Dean leaned over and turned up the radio, so ready to have some tunes after the ordeal. It was a familiar tune, and Dean began to back out of the driveway, slamming the brakes when he recognized it.

“Well there is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one”

Dean and Sam both reached for the radio, racing to switch it off. They looked at each other and swallowed hard, then turned to catch the last glimpse of the dreadful house.

The House of the Rising Sun.

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction

#chris writes #dean x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader x sam #no pairing #supernatural fanfiction #working a case

[moonsandstar-s]

The Final Warning - Chapter XXII

Chapter XXII - Fight and Flight 

Summary:  As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/21473954 Pyrrha 

The night had almost been too much to process, but now that they were standing outside of Beacon Tower, it hit her full-force like a ton of bricks. They were right at the base of the Tower, standing beneath the battlements, while a war raged below them in the vault.

I’ve killed Penny. Beacon is under attack. The defenses have failed, and a Grimm wyvern is set on the Tower. Amber is dead, and Cinder possesses all the powers of the Fall Maiden. Ozpin is gone.

She swayed slightly on her feet, breath coming fast and shallow, and then Jaune was there, one hand steadying her. “Pyrrha!” His voice was panicked. “Stay with me.”

She took a deep breath, smoky air billowing out from her mouth in the frigid air. The stars whirled overhead, and her vision focused until she could see again, and the ground felt steadier under her feet. “I’m okay, Jaune,” she said, her voice sounding far away. Every nerve of her body felt stretched taut, tension ballooning between them. She knew part of her tension wasn’t just the suppressed feelings— she had felt Amber’s soul enter her body, however briefly, and it had changed her. For the slightest of instances, she had felt the edges of a thousand souls, all the Maidens from the dawn of time, whispering in her mind, not sleeping but barely awake. She had felt fire and smoke, the briskness of winter and the heat of summer combined, pure power thrumming through her. It had been the most exhilarating thing she had ever experienced, and the most painful in her life, because as the power and ambition had flowed into her veins, her own soul had been pushed out. When Amber’s soul had withdrawn, yanked out by Cinder’s arrow and the cold hand of death, flooding into Cinder instead— Pyrrha’s soul had returned to her body, but she had been changed by the experience, and she knew it. She had tasted raw, elemental power, and for Cinder to possess not even a quarter of it, as Pyrrha had tasted, but the whole thing…

“She has to be stopped,” Pyrrha said aloud. “If Ozpin doesn’t stop her… Cinder has power, enormous power. She could summon the wyvern here to the Tower. She could summon the Grimm, make a ruin of Vale, of Remnant.”

Jaune’s blue eyes glittered at her in worry. “How is that even possible? She doesn’t control everything!”

“She could— if she killed Ozpin and took all the Maiden’s powers.” Pyrrha took a rattling breath, one hand on Miló, the other resting on Akoúo̱. “She could control this whole world.”

“The… Maidens? I don’t understand… what?”

Pyrrha looked nervously at the Tower, imagining the battle raging beneath their feet, all the power of autumn reckoned against Ozpin. He would never be able to withstand such an onslaught, and she shifted on her feet, anxious to get going, to do something. “Jaune, we can’t—”

“No, listen. Pyrrha.” His face was hard with anger— not at her, but at the situation, at the sheer injustice of it all, and she could have almost wailed aloud in pain. “Down in the vault. That’s the decision you were worrying about, wasn’t it? That’s what made you so sad for so long. Whatever Ozpin was doing with that girl in the coma and you, and the orange light…”

She stared, caught off-guard. “How did you…?”

“I know you,” he said simply. “What was it? Why were you in the vault, why did Ozpin ask you to go, just… all of it. Why?”

She clenched her teeth. “We don’t have time to talk—”

“Pyrrha.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and she realized, with a swift, sudden shock, what tonight must look like to him— how she must look, chosen by Ozpin, forced into her role. “Please.”

Giving up, deciding that an explanation would be swifter than an argument, she let out a deep exhale of breath. “You remember the legend of the seasonal Maidens, Jaune, don’t you?”

He looked confused, as if it was irrelevant. With a burst of bitterness, she wished it was. “Yeah, of course.”

Ever-conscious of how little time there was left, she rushed out the words, stumbling over them in her haste. “The legend of the Maidens is true. All of it is true. There are four Maidens on Remnant, and they can wield magic without Dust, and they’re incredibly, incredibly, powerful. Ozpin knew it, the General knew it, so did Goodwitch and that Huntsman, Ruby’s uncle. I was called to Ozpin’s office about a week ago, remember? He told me all of this, but he told me that there was a girl—”

“The girl in the vault?” Jaune was paling visibly as she went on.

“Yes. Her. Amber is her name. She is— was— the autumn Maiden, but she was attacked a while ago— attacked by Cinder. Cinder wants her powers. She only managed to steal half of them before Ruby’s uncle saved Amber, and Cinder escaped with half the Maidens’ power, leaving Amber in a coma when she fled. Amber wouldn’t live forever, though, especially not in a coma, so Ozpin wanted to use me as a… a vessel for the rest of the power, so Cinder couldn’t take it by default when Amber died. But that didn’t work out, because Cinder struck tonight, setting up the tournament to fail, having Grimm destroy the kingdom’s defenses, and to engage Vale in battle while she went down to the vault to steal the Maiden’s powers. She wants the power of it, I guess, wants the sheer strength it will give her… and now she has it. She has the Maidens’ power.”

His eyes were as round as moons, his jaw sagging open. “That,” he said with apparent difficulty, “is one of the craziest things I’ve heard.”

She took a heaving breath. “You have to believe it.”

He shook his head, still looking faintly stunned. “Of course I believe it; I just saw it with my own eyes, and I trust you. But… what are we going to do now?”

As soon as he said, a loud noise ripped through the air, like shattering stone mixed with an echoing scream. The ground shook violently under their feet, and they both fell to their hands and knees as the stone bucked under them, the very air vibrating with a deafening roar. When it subsided, Pyrrha looked up, and her heartbeat seemed to stagger as she saw what was there.

Within the transparent windows of the school, like a comet returning to the heavens, a blazing orange streak was hurtling upward, towards the summit of Beacon Tower. They were far away, but as they watched the streak bear upward, fire emanating from its shape as it shattered floors and windows, Pyrrha knew who it was.

Cinder.

“But Ozpin was fighting her,” Jaune cried out. “If she’s gotten out…”

“She killed him.” Pyrrha set her jaw. “There’s not much time left.” She turned to Jaune, before a thought occurred to her, and she frowned. With a sudden, striking realization, like a sunbeam parting the clouds, she recognized what she must do. There was no one left to save Vale, no one to hide behind. No Maidens, no Ozpin, no heroes to save the day…

Except for me.

The thought came with a faint echo of surprise, and oddly enough, she didn’t feel dread, only an unwavering resignation as the answer came to her. There is no one left to fight Cinder, no one who could hope to stand against her.

No one except me.

“Go,” she said suddenly. “You need to get out of here. Get to the city— tell Qrow and Glynda what happened. Before it’s too late.”

He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “But… what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fight her,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Don’t you see? This is the only way, I have to do it. Not out of a sense of responsibility, or because Ozpin thought I would fight Cinder… but because I love Remnant. I love Vale. I love Beacon, and all of you… and she’ll destroy it, if someone doesn’t stop her. Jaune…. if I don’t come back…” She swallowed. “When I don’t come back… don’t grieve. Just… live. There’s no one to make pay. There won’t be, not after this. The only way you could possibly make it all okay is… be the best person you can be. Don’t let it warp you, change you… see the beauty in life.”

Jaune looked shell-shocked, and he reached out, holding her hands between his. “Pyrrha,” he said, whisper-soft. “Please…”

“There is a poem,” she said. “‘Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.’” She gripped his hands tightly. "I'll always be with you."

His eyes shimmered brightly, and then, in a mutual sort of understanding, they both leaned forward, and they were kissing. Her chest feeling as though someone had clawed a hole in it, she cradled his face between her hands, the face she knew so well, kissing him as if the world were collapsing around them— and it was, wasn’t it, in a way? All they knew, all she had ever known, was irrevocably changed. And she found herself savoring every sensation, every thought and touch and sound, for she knew— almost certainly— that they would, very well, be her last ones. For ever. It was one thing to have the uncertain threat of death all around you. It was quite another to walk into your own demise, knowing that you would not return, and accepting that you would die, you must die, no matter what.

And she was choosing the latter.

This, she knew, was her fate from the instant Professor Ozpin had summoned her and told her knowledge that changed what she knew forever. The boyish lines of Jaune’s features were resettling into harder, more angular shapes, and his face was wet with blood or tears, soot streaking his cheeks.  He tasted like salt, a cacophony of blood and tears and pain. And their very first kiss was the first kiss of goodbye, of farewell, an adieu, because she didn’t think she would see him again— she could feel it, deep inside, where she could feel her heart breaking and falling and crumbling. Adieu. What a tragic word it was. Not quite a ‘goodbye’, not an au revoir. Not a see you again, someday, for we will certainly meet again— but adieu, a goodbye. A reqiuem. A final, ever-so-final, parting of ways.

She pulled away. He was crying as well, tears carving clear paths down his cheeks, and his eyes— beautiful blue, and heartbroken— rested on her.

I love you, she thought. But I have to do this. You understand that, don’t you, that this must have always been my fate? The words were there, choking in the back of her throat like tears, but as they tumbled to the front of her mouth, they came out differently.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, an infinite tenderness in her voice. “I will never forget what you have given me.”

He clutched at her hands harder, tears streaking down his face. “Isn’t there another way? Pyrrha, you don’t…” His voice faded away. They both knew that it had to come to this, that she was the only one who was strong enough, but he was shaking his head, backing away from her. “I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you die, Pyrrha. I won’t.”

Hating herself for it, knowing it was the only way, she summoned a burst of polarity to her hands, knocking him backward into a rocket locker. The door clattered shut, locking him inside, and his blue eyes glittered out from the shadows, now panicked.

“Pyrrha! No, please! I can’t lose you, please…”

“You won’t lose me,” she said gently. “I will always be in your heart, Jaune. You can go on. I know you.”

With that, she dialed in a location, shutting her ears to his pleas, summoning the warrior inside of her, the one in tune with sacrifice and blood and fighting.

Destiny.

The locker shot away into the night, spitting blue fire, and she watched it vanish in a glimmer of sapphire the color of his eyes. Suppressing a thrum of pain and regret, she turned, and began to walk towards the Tower, towards her fate, towards her destiny… towards her demise. / / / 

Jaune

He staggered from the wreckage of the rocket locker, his knees singing with pain, all his limbs watery and shaking. He could taste salt on his lips, could barely stand, but he numbly wrenched his Scroll from his pocket, thumbing in a code on the shattered screen. Weiss’s face sprang up, a diagonal crack running down the glass just over her eye, and the garbled dial tone rang out in the air.

She picked up on the third ring. Once, many weeks ago, he would have been all fumbling hands and nervous words, but he could only laugh at the memory of how he had once felt for Weiss— and how dearly it had cost the person who he was close to losing now.

He could hear the roaring of Grimm in the background, because everything was going to hell, and he could hear Ruby’s scythe taking down one after another. “Weiss!” He cried, clutching the Scroll like a lifeline— and for Pyrrha, it was— “Please, you have to stop her!”

“What?”

“Pyrrha!” he shrieked, his heart in his throat. ““She’s going after that woman at the top of the Tower. Cinder! She thinks she can sacrifice herself to buy us time, but she doesn’t stand a chance!”  

“Jaune, what are you talking about? Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about me!” He stumbled, his shoulder slamming into the side of a building. He could feel tears streaming down his face, hotly blurring his vision. “Please— please, you have to save Pyrrha. I can’t…”

“We will,” she said urgently. “Are you okay?”

Sorrow exploded out from him, his voice a harsh cry. He could feel the Scroll leave his hand and he collapsed, harshly choking on his sobs. I cannot lose her, I can’t— just as I realized how she felt, how I felt, it was always there… Why was I so stupid? Why did I wait… why, why, why…

He looked up, seeing what was in front of him. He’d landed in the city, right in the middle of the battle of Grimm. Somewhere across the sea of darkness, there were other Huntsmen. He had to help now; he realized that. He couldn’t be the coward anymore, the one who stood idly by while other people sacrificed themselves to keep him safe. With a grimace, he unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, watching the moonlight dance across the blade, and wishing fervently that things were different. He could never make it back to the Tower... but there was someone who could, and all he could do was pray - pray, and use the skills that his partner had instilled within him.

His sword felt different in his hand. Firmer. Stronger, somehow, like he’d finally grown into it. Like he understood it now, and he and the warrior inside of him were balanced, as one— at a cost. But the price was too much to pay.

He pictured her weeks ago before she had turned into the sorrowful person he had just been torn away from— her eyes laughing, her face encouraging, and always— always— loving. It was all he had missed and all he had never seen.

He saw the raging sea of Grimm, tearing through the streets. There were only four Huntsmen there to suppress the tide of darkness. Once upon a time, it would have scared him. But now he only felt cold. He lifted his sword, swaying a little on his feet, and took a step forward to confront a snarling Ursa. The sight of its mindless, hate-filled red eyes made him cower, before he steeled himself, a similar snarl taking over his features.

This is not how it ends.

He pictured his partner’s dying— dead?— face, and let his fury loose.

/ / / 

Pyrrha

Upon entry into the Tower, after sending Jaune to the city, Pyrrha found that she had been right. Cinder had defeated Ozpin. The broken elevator, still streaming smoke from its shaft, stood as a testament to her victory. She had gained the Maiden’s powers after murdering Amber, and used them to propel herself to the top, to the office, the summit of the Tower. Pyrrha knew that, from there, she would be waiting to make the final claim for triumph over Vale. She would try to get the Grimm wyvern to do her bidding, and it could destroy a building with the merest lash of its tail. Pyrrha couldn’t even begin to imagine the destruction it would wreak if it were to actually try on Cinder’s will. She had already won against Ozpin, and she had no clue that Pyrrha was there, at the base of the Tower, of how she was ready for this, for her fate.

She didn’t know that there was only one soul waiting to stop her.

Pyrrha stepped into the elevator, skirting the smoking hole that gaped in the center where Cinder had shot through. With a glance upward, swallowing past the fear in her throat, she reached out, feeling, with her semblance, all the metal in the elevator. Then, with a mighty surge, she yanked it up and felt herself shoot skyward like a cork popped from a bottle.

The elevators flew wide open as she reached the top, torn apart by the centrifuge, and she burst through them without hesitation, seeing Cinder standing there with her back to the doors. Every bit of training and power surging through her fingertips, Pyrrha hurled Miló out of her hand like a javelin, aiming straight for the Fall Maiden, for Cinder, for her final opponent.

The first thing she became aware of was four pairs of glowing eyes, the color of fire, resting on her— Cinder’s eyes, and then, behind her, the eyes of the Grimm. The wyvern. It was curled around the Tower in a horrible imitation, a mockery of a bird on its perch, but as she exploded into the office, guns blazing, it took to the air with a shriek and a buffeting sweep of its wings.

Cinder snarled, ducking out of Miló’s path with a sinuous ease, like a snake. “Fool,” she hissed. “Ozpin is gone. He holds no power over you, and the powers were never yours, this isn’t your fight—”

“You’re wrong.” Pyrrha’s voice was flat and cold as she stared at Cinder. Every nerve in her body humming with an eerie calm, she pulled Miló back to her grip with a flash of her semblance. “For every soul you hurt tonight and every destiny you manipulated in your own hunger for power, it is another reason for me to fight. You played with fate as if it was yours to control… mine and Penny’s and all the people who suffered tonight because of you. So I ask you: how can you think that destinies are for you to meddle with? A true warrior knows that destiny is never defined, and I choose my own path. This is what I choose, and you’ll never take Vale or another person’s fate as long as I live!”

Cinder’s lips curved upward, as if Pyrrha’s words were amusing. “You remind me of him a bit,” she said, a strange note in her voice, like a purr. “The same unfailing faith in your own will. The same belief in the eventual triumph of what was good.” The smile fell from her face. “But Ozpin’s beliefs didn’t save him in the end. His arrogance came to nothing. His strength didn’t save him. Nor shall yours.”

Pyrrha struck, then, flashing her spear out as Cinder summoned a burst of flame to dance in her hands, giving her face a ghostly, haunted look. She knocked Miló away with a snarl of anger, but Pyrrha summoned it back, and they stared at each other, each sizing the other up. They both circled each other, like hawks, like two predators locked in some ancient hunt. The distant shrieking of the wyvern echoed through the Tower, and then, as one, they struck, and Pyrrha could almost imagine a clap of thunder echoing through Vale as they smashed into each other.

Fire scorched Pyrrha’s back as she landed several hard strikes, and she flipped back, using the force to launch herself off the wall, feet planted firmly on Akoúo̱’s center. She flew forward like a bullet shot from a gun, the shield backed by her weight, but Cinder blocked her with a shove of her arms. Pyrrha’s chest heaved as she fought for breath, and then she gasped; Cinder was hovering in the center of the Tower, actually hovering in midair, like some magic levitating trick, but twisted, horrible and wrong. Fire burned under her feet, the awful beauty of autumn’s fire emanating from her eyes, golden glory blazing forth in the shadows.

“You see,” she rasped, “this is the power he promised you, the power he lied of, what he kept smothered and shrouded in secrecy, what was never yours—”

Snarling, Pyrrha charged, cutting off Cinder’s words mid-sentence. With a flick of her fingers, Cinder spun around, her hand flashing out as she sent forth an arc of fire that dived forward like a snake, spitting sparks. Forced to dodge it, Pyrrha rolled to the side before crying out as another stream of fire shot towards her. She jumped over it, landing on both feet, planted apart on the ground. She looked up, eyes streaming from the heat and smoke now curling through the room, but her whole body felt as though it was made of ice. A deep chill settled in her veins.

Six balls of seething, shifting fire had formed behind Cinder, casting a deadly red halo of light across her hair, a net of scarlet dancing across her skin. With a laugh lost in the roar of the flame, she flung them forward, and Pyrrha whirled and danced, barely avoiding them. She screamed aloud in frustration as she saw Cinder had moved yet again, the fire still shivering beneath her feet like a compass point.

Another stream of fire dove forward from the Maiden’s hands, a thick band of writhing lava, and this time, Pyrrha, with a muttered prayer, grasped Akoúo̱ and thrust herself forward into the midst of the fire, knowing Cinder wouldn’t expect it.

The minute she hit the roaring, spitting inferno, her Aura shivered with the effort of keeping her skin intact, but she could still feel the flame licking her skin, singeing it, as it spilled past Akoúo̱’s edges and spattered against her. Every pain she had ever endured, times ten, twenty, a hundred— every fight— nothing had been so hard as this, and her breath burned in her lungs, like acid, the smoke blinding her. She slammed into Cinder and immediately capitalized on her proximity, using Miló to assault Cinder with a flurry of slashes and jabs until her arm was streaming bright-red blood, tatters of skin hanging off her arm, mixing the reek of coppery blood with the sharp scent of smoke. Cinder swore loudly, grabbing Miló, her hands wrapping around the blade. It was clearly painful— her teeth bared in a rictus, a terrible grin of agony, but she powered through, blood welling from her hands and running down Miló’s glimmering golden length as she seized the blade and pulled it towards her, forcing Pyrrha to move with it, until her back was to Cinder. With a howl, Cinder kicked her right in the spine, sending her to her knees. Another kick sent Pyrrha crashing through a spindly table into the stone wall of the office.

Groaning, she struggled to her feet, the cold adrenaline of battle surging through her veins. She was bleeding now, but by no means beaten, and as she stared at Cinder, stared into her fiery amber eyes, she was struck by a feeling of power, illimitable power. She didn’t think for a second she could win this— not she, mortal as she was, reckoned against the pure power of a season— but there was only one thought in her head: I am doing this because I have to, and it will be enough.

It has to be.

Cinder flew forward, dipping low to the ground before skyrocketing upwards, taking Pyrrha with her. They grappled briefly in midair, each strike sending a shockwave through Pyrrha’s Aura, and a brief flash of terror flickered through her . What if she couldn’t do it? What if her sacrifice was in vain, and she couldn’t cripple Cinder enough to stop her, what if she couldn’t save the Tower, or Vale, or her friends, or any of it?

No, she thought fiercely. It is enough, because I am strong enough! I was the candidate for the Maiden’s powers. I will stop her!

She delivered several hard kicks to Cinder’s face, making her screech in pain and release Pyrrha, who plummeted the floor like a dropped stone. Landing on her feet, she upturned Miló, throwing it at Cinder, who deflected it with a wall of fire that roared up out of nowhere. Pyrrha called it back to her side, charging forward in a run as Cinder landed, and used the momentum to flip the Maiden’s body over and slam her into the floor.

But she underestimated the strength of the other woman, and Cinder did a back-hand-spring, landing on her feet. Desperate now, Pyrrha hurtled forward again, slamming her shield into Cinder’s skull as hard as she could and crying out as Cinder delivered a retaliating, stabbing blow to her abdomen, but she did not recoil from it. Pyrrha hit back just as hard, making the Maiden stumble, and as she staggered back, Pyrrha smacked Cinder’s hand with the blunt end of her spear, and then ducked around to slash her other hand with the blade. As Cinder hissed in pain, Pyrrha spun around and stabbed at her stomach.

She retaliated, scorching a blaze across Pyrrha’s arm with a spear of fire. Crying out in pain, Pyrrha gritted her teeth and snapped around to attack again, but Cinder was quick, too quick; she reached out and gripped Pyrrha’s shoulders, dragging her forward like she weighed no more than a rag doll. Still holding on, her fingers digging into Pyrrha’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood, Cinder performed a backflip, knocking her into the air. Pyrrha righted herself midair, hurling her spear towards Cinder, who dissipated six fireballs to knock it away. A look of surprised annoyance flashed across her opponent’s face as Akoúo̱ quickly followed Miló, nearly bashing her across the forehead, and she ducked it. Pyrrha summoned both her weapons back as she fell from the air, hands pulsing with polarity.

As she landed, Pyrrha launched herself towards Cinder and put her in a headlock, tackling her to the ground. They turned in midair, grappling like two wild animals, fighting to be the one on top, and as they smashed into the ground, a cloud of dust plumed up around them.

Pyrrha took advantage of the thick swirling silt to tighten her grip around Cinder’s neck, feeling her swallow against the blade as she choked with the applied pressure.

“Get up,” Pyrrha rasped, her voice sounding horribly strangled as she staggered to her feet, still squeezing her grip around the Maiden’s throat. She could feel her heartbeat under her palms, the age-old bloodlust of the warrior, the urge to drive down on that heartbeat until it ceased to be. “Get up, or I will kill you.”

Cinder got to her feet in one fluid motion, not struggling against Pyrrha’s grip on her neck. “Kill me as you killed another tonight?” she whispered, laughing coldly. “Or does a body without a soul not count?”

“Penny had a soul,” Pyrrha spat. “It’s you who doesn’t.”

At that, Cinder stopped laughing, and they both paused, at a standstill, both seeking a way out of the position. Cinder suddenly stiffened, and Pyrrha turned to look at what had caught her attention.

The wyvern had been circling high above the Tower during their battle, and now— at her bidding, perhaps?— it circled around and suddenly shot forward, veering up at the last second and barely avoiding hitting the summit. Pyrrha turned back to look at Cinder, who had begun to shift her position during Pyrrha’s distraction.

There was a smile on her face, a cold, quiet, amused smile, like they both shared a mysterious secret, and she did not struggle against Pyrrha’s tightening chokehold. Her hands were curled gently across Miló, holding it as one would hold something precious— not gripping as they had before, so that the blade cut and sliced at her palms and drew blood. She was barely resting her hands upon the metal this time, but Pyrrha realized what she was doing moments before it took effect, and she was too late to stop her.

Miló snapped into unusable quarters of metal, just as Pyrrha had done to Penny, destroyed parts of what had once been whole and functioning. The edges were still glowing with superficial heat, and the pieces of her broken weapon clattered to the ground. Pyrrha staggered back as Cinder took advantage of her distraction to elbow her in the chest before hurling her body backward. She went flying, hitting the back wall with a loud cracking noise, her skull slamming backward and sending waves of darkness lancing across her vision. Sliding to the ground, she let out a low moan, her vision hazy. But even with the darkness, she could see an emerald glow suddenly suffuse the room, followed by a great ripping sound, the noise of stone being rended from stone. Blinking away agony, she looked up, and gasped.

She was not met by the sight of the circular roof, but rather, the great expanse of the snowy night sky, filled with a mixture of wind-torn shreds of cloud, and stars. There was a crashing noise from far below her, and she knew it was the roof— cogs, gears, and stones— hitting the ground, followed by the CCT’s transmitter. The wyvern had hit the tower, and with it, it had knocked off the roof of the office, and the CCT transmitter.

A burst of sheer terror exploded in her chest. No. No, no, no… I failed! The Tower… Ozpin said the Tower mustn’t fall, and it has…

But she could not continue the train of thought; Cinder was staring at her, fire bubbling up from her bloody palms once more. Pyrrha sensed she was not about to strike; she was waiting, so the first move was up to her. Staring up at her, seeing the power that she so obviously held and controlled with ease, Pyrrha felt doubt thrum through her. She had never been afraid she might lose  a fight— never. But tonight was a night full of new experiences, and pain was making her movements sluggish, slowing her blood, clouding her mind.

“This is folly,” Cinder said, shaking away blood from her arm impatiently, as if the wound Pyrrha had inflicted was merely an annoyance, a pest. “Star-child. Did Ozpin make you believe you were special? You were only ever a pawn in his game and mine. The only difference is that I am honest enough to admit it to you.”

Pyrrha snarled. “I know you’re a murderer. A liar. A traitor. You killed Penny and Ozpin without any remorse.”

Cinder smiled. “Even for one like you, the pinnacle of virtue, the strongest of Huntresses, you who manipulates fate even with your semblance… to fight a Maiden is to die.”

The only fate I ever controlled was my own. “You fought Amber once,” Pyrrha whispered instead. “When you were mortal, as I am. They told me. And you lived.”

Something like surprise flashed over her face, before cold cruelty replaced it. “A weak Maiden, such as Amber,” she growled, “had no mastery of her incredible powers, no chance, no chance of winning against someone like me. It was only right for me to possess them; I would use them in far more powerful ways than she could have dreamed of. And if I beat her without the powers, on my own merits… what exactly are you expecting to do here, when I am far more powerful than any mortal has ever been?” Cinder lowered herself to the ground, her amber eyes glowing. “If you leave now, there is a chance you could survive, child, but if you do not, there is none. Do you truly believe that tonight will go down as anything but the first tragedy of Remnant, the night a Huntress child died, the night Vale succumbed to what was stronger than it?”

“It’s not certain,” Pyrrha said desperately. “The Huntsmen and Huntresses might not lose. They could rally.”

Cinder smiled. “That’s a chance you could take,” she said. “But listen. They have come to Vale now, those who create the shadows between the stars. They are drawn to places of slaughter and sorrow. Can you see?”

Pyrrha looked out the windows, and so did Cinder, seeing the wyvern circling high above them, a great black shadow that blotted out the stars. All sorts of Grimm fell from the length of its body, Taijitus and Beowolves and Ursai and Griffons, howling as they tasted the blood and misery in the air…

While Cinder was gazing out the window, Pyrrha struck. She lunged for Cinder, driving downward with her weapon, pinning her and burying the metal in the flesh near her shoulder. Blood bubbled up from the wound, turning her red dress redder. With a shriek of rage and pain, Cinder kicked her off, flipping to her feet with true fury now burning in her eyes, fire spitting sparks from them.

She shot up into the air, her lips drawn back in a terrible snarl as she flung barbs of fire at Pyrrha, one after the other so quickly that Pyrrha could not dodge them. The office was ablaze now in a whirling inferno, fire crawling up the walls, racing across the floor.

Pyrrha rolled out of the way of two rapid-fire blasts of flame thrown her way, but she wasn’t quick enough as a third blast of fire smashed her in the chest, sending her tumbling backward. With a scream of agony, she slammed into the wall before springing to her feet as the floor beneath her caught light, embers spilling out across the ground.

If I can distract her and make her think I’m doing something other than what I am…

It was a longshot, but it was the only thing she had left. Using one hand, muscles trembling with the strain, Pyrrha concentrated on using her polarity to raise every ounce of heavy metal in the office. While she did so, she squinted through the rising wall of flame, lifted Akoúo̱, and with a deep breath, flung it through the rippling orange wall.

Cinder backhanded the shield away with ease, smirking at the apparently weak move and at the same moment, Pyrrha swiped her own hand through the air and sent every bit of metal toppling on top of Cinder, burying her under a shining pile of silver and gold.

A scream of rage echoed from its center, and Pyrrha’s eyes widened as it began to glow red-hot, like a massive ember. The metal began to melt and fuse, and then, with explosive force, one of the cogs exploded outward, bearing down upon her. Cinder erupted from the center of the melted metal, swooping upward like an angel in flight, and still the gear was coming, flipping end over end. She turned to flee out of the way, but she was not fast enough, and it slammed into her side, knocking her backward. It crushed her under its weight and she hit her back against the broken pillar of the office with a scream, sliding to her knees, barely managing to stay conscious as a black, jagged wave of darkness flickered across her vision.

And with all the strain she had put on it— using her semblance, not being fast enough to avoid heavy hits from Cinder— her Aura buckled and shattered. Pyrrha staggered, gasping under the sudden fatigue that overwhelmed her.

Cinder’s teeth glittered as she bared them, breath rasping harshly in the sudden silence. Pyrrha thought she might be laughing— laughing at the foolish Huntress girl, throwing away her life to buy her kingdom time. “Foolish girl,” she repeated. “Do you honestly think you can win?”

With her Aura expired, everything seemed fuzzy, her limbs suddenly weighed down by heavy exhaustion. She was mortal now. Every strike to hit her would leave a wound. She fought for breath, struggling to her feet, the question bouncing through her skull— but she already knew. Miló was gone, and only Akoúo̱ was left now; she knew she couldn’t win. That wasn’t the purpose of it. She kept fighting anyways, because she had to. For Amber, for Ozpin, for Beacon, for Vale, for the world, for Jaune. She didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, down to the last breath, even when she knew each breath could be her last.

“No,” she breathed, before running before and flinging Akoúo̱ out before her, one final stand.

#RWBY #RWBY V3 #Pyrrha Nikos #Cinder Fall #End of the Beginning #Arkos #Jaune Arc #jaune x pyrrha #pyrrha x jaune #my writing #the final warning