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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 9

A/N: oh look another scott pov :) where nothing will go wrong :)

Warnings: violence, mild description of seizure-like symptoms, falling, injury, blood mention, near death experiences, self-blame, corruption, passing out

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott lost track of time as he flew around aimlessly. Eventually, he decided that he couldn’t avoid his responsibilities or the other empires any longer, and flew back home. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but the sun was slowly sinking in the sky as he arrived back in Rivendell. Usually Scott loved to watch the sun get lower and lower in the sky and cast his empire in gold- but the ache in his heart paired with the sight that greeted him in Rivendell made the view far less enjoyable. Pillagers, witches, and ravagers had infested his empire, terrifying his villagers, infiltrating his enchanting tower, and trampling his fields. Not only that, but Scott could spot pressure plates and tripwires that he most certainly had not put up.

“Nice parting gift from Fwhip and Sausage,” Scott muttered as he drew his bow. He started by picking off the pillagers in the village. From a perch on the roof, he was able to take most of them out. The evoker that was there gave Scott some trouble with the vexes he sent towards him, forcing Scott to switch to his sword and cut them down. After that, dealing with the evoker was easy enough, seeing as his fang attacks couldn’t reach Scott on the roof. Then came disarming the traps in the village by carefully removing pressure plates and trip wires, then removing the TNT that they were supposed to rig. Fwhip being angry at him was one thing, but Scott’s blood boiled at the nerve of Fwhip to try and hurt his villagers. Next he made sure that any injured villagers got the treatment they needed, and Scott made a mental note to fortify the walls of the village.

Next was the ravagers in his fields. There wasn’t really anywhere for Scott to perch so he could shoot at the ravagers, minus the steep cliffsides that surrounded the field. But trying to defeat the ravagers head-on wasn’t the best plan either. At least Scott couldn’t see any potential traps in the fields. He just had to be sure his aim was good- which it was, in his humble opinion. And keep his balance on a rocky cliffside as well. No problem… right? The first shot he fired went wide, completely missing the ravager he was intending to hit. With a frustrated mutter under his breath, Scott readied his bow again, taking aim. This time, it was a hit, right in the gap of the ravager’s tough skin at its neck. A few more precise shots from his bow took care of the rest of the herd in no time at all. Replanting the crops they had destroyed, however, would take a bit longer.

With the ravagers taken care of, that left maybe the most difficult problem: the witches. They were all scattered around the mountain his enchanting tower was on, and they were a bit cleverer than the pillagers and ravagers were. They were hiding in the foliage around the tower, as well as the nether plants that were leaking out from the portal- and Scott could have sworn there was more of the strange red substance growing on the mountain than the last time he had seen it. But he couldn’t deal with that now- he had witches to deal with. He picked off a couple that were outside his tower as he circled around it- and then noticed that some of them were actually inside, looking far too intrigued by the crystal that powered his enchanting table.

“Oh no you don’t,” Scott huffed, quickly scanning for any more traps near the enchanting tower before flying in to deal with the witches. He caught one by surprise and sliced right through her, the witch crumbling to ash instantly. Three more remained inside the tower, and each one of them hurled potions at Scott once they noticed their fallen companion. He managed to evade the first two- poison, if he remembered his potion particles correctly, but the harming potion the last witch threw hit him right in the chest. His muscles seized and a pained shout made its way past gritted teeth, but Scott managed to stay upright. One witch lunged at him, and he barely managed to swing his sword at her, only managing to cut her arm. But even that didn't do much good- she had a healing potion at the ready. The other two witches were getting ready to throw more potions at Scott- and with how he was still reeling from the first round of potions, he highly doubted he could deal with more in this state. The witches were closing in on him, and he had no choice but to scramble back out of the tower. However they were all focused on him now, and no longer had any interest in the crystal. The way Scott was feeling, between the harming potion still causing his body to seize with pain every so often and the residual heartbroken and lonely mood he was still shaking off, they could have just kept it for all he cared.

Scott shook himself slightly. What on earth was he thinking? Yes, he was hurting both physically and emotionally- but Rivendell was his empire, his home. He wasn’t going to let Fwhip and Sausage’s horde of witches tarnish it, no matter how desolate he felt. He tightened his grip on his sword and despite the aching muscles, spread his wings as far as he could, glaring the witches down. It had the desired effect, the witches shrinking back a bit in fear. One witch was foolish enough to try and attack, and Scott was able to cut her down this time around. With a sudden burst of determination after defeating the one witch, Scott was able to take down the two remaining witches from the tower. But there were still witches below him- ones who had noticed the scuffle outside the tower and were beginning to climb up the mountain to him.

Switching to his bow, Scott took to the skies to try and pick off the witches as they tried to come up to him. But the harming potion’s effects were still lingering, and another tremor of pain took hold of Scott while he was in the air. His wings seized, and suddenly Scott was plummeting. He tried to extend his wings out and glide down, but he couldn’t quite get his limbs to respond in time. He crashed at the nether portal cave entrance, crying out as something cut his arm as he fell. He weakly pushed himself up from the crumpled heap he had become, dimly registering the witches inching closer as he gently stretched his wings, checking to make sure they hadn’t broken in the fall. Fortunately, his wings seemed to be responding normally now, and Scott pushed himself up to stand on slightly wobbly feet. He couldn’t give up now, not when there were five- no six- maybe it was five?- he couldn’t quite tell, his vision was blurring something awful- witches still approaching him. Frankly, Scott wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get out of this one. Maybe he deserved it, for what he did to Jimmy, Katherine, and by extension the entire House Blossom Alliance.

Scott looked to the mountains where his village and home were, wanting to see its beauty one last time- and happened to focus his gaze on the statue of Aeor. All at once, Scott didn’t feel quite so weary. He still ached, and his arm was stinging from the cut, but he got a sudden burst of energy as he looked upon the statue. The deer god had been relatively silent for as long as Scott could remember… was this sudden energy a gift from Aeor? Regardless of where the energy came from, Scott wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. He drew his bow and shot down two of the witches in quick succession, clearly surprising the remaining three. They scrambled to throw potions at him, but he took to the skies again before they could land at his feet, and shot down the remaining three witches.

The burst of energy Scott had gotten was sapped as soon as the last witch crumbled into dust. He was able to glide over to the door to his home, and nearly fell flat on his face after he pushed the door open. But he somehow managed to stay upright, and stumbled over to his chests. It didn’t take him too long to find a healing potion, and breathed a sigh of relief after drinking it. The effects of the harming potion finally dissipated, and the minor scrapes from his fall healed- but the larger cut on his arm was still stinging. And then he finally got a good look at it.

The bleeding had more or less stopped thanks to the healing potion, but it was still a glaring, sickening red. But that wasn’t all. There was a pulsing red something spreading beneath his skin in a veiny web. The strange red web had already taken up most of his forearm, and he hadn’t even been cut by whatever it was for that long. And the healing potion didn’t do a thing to the cut besides stop it from bleeding.

Scott’s breath got quicker as the panic began to set in. What was he supposed to do? He definitely didn’t know what was happening, or what effect this cut and the resulting corruption in his skin would have. And he didn’t exactly have anyone he could go to for help… unless he finally got over himself and went to Pearl or Gem. They left the Wither Rose Alliance too- surely they would be on his side and be willing to help him?

His mind made up, Scott flew to Gem’s empire. She was closer than Pearl was, and was the land’s resident magic expert. Surely she could help Scott. But when Scott made it there, the Crystal Cliffs seemed vacant. Gem was nowhere to be seen, unless she was in one of her towers, in her home nestled in the cliffside, or really any other building in her empire. Before Scott could call out to Gem for help, his head spun. While the healing potion had helped at first, the stinging pain from the cut on his arm was back in full force, he was still a little battle-weary from dealing with Fwhip and Sausage’s little “gift,” and the flight to Gem’s took a lot more out of him than he thought. Scott took a step forward, intending to try and make his way towards one of the buildings in Gem’s empire- and promptly fell on his face. He laid there for a few moments, dimly realizing he should be trying to get up. But his head felt foggy and his arm stung like hell- and he couldn’t quite get any of his limbs to respond. He finally mustered the strength to push himself up on the forearm that wasn’t cut and pulsing with corruption- but that small movement took what remaining energy he had, and his arm gave out as he fell into the embrace of unconsciousness with a groan.

Taglists below! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @beepa99 @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #scott smajor #flower husbands #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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tinned-beans · 3 years

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Avengers AU idea...

The Necromantica: Lead by the Ancient One. She is the founder of the group and has been around to oversee it for centuries. No one knows what her power is, or how she's lived so long.

After a person has had a severe injury leading to their almost death, they sometimes develop unexplained powers relating to necromancy in one way or another. The Necromantica is an underground group dedicated to helping people who have discovered these new powers. They provide therapy for the trauma people have endured, train people in how to use and control their power, and are partnered with the sorcerers at Kamar Taj. The sorcerers teach the necromancers basic magic as self-defence and to give both the subjects and the sorcerers a better understanding of this phenomenon.

Although the Necromantica is a secret group, they often use their powers to protect the people of New York and are low-level enhanced individuals outside the watch of the government. They're based in an abandoned train station hidden by illusions cast by the sorcerers of Kamar Taj.

Characters:

Tony: A poor unsuspecting fool and Stephens roommate after the car crash. He's a graphic designer for a magazine company and frequently asks Stephen to pose as a drawing reference. He could just use Pinterest or even books like a normal person, but at the moment it's his only excuse to stare dreamily at Stephen without being weird.

Stephen: The victim of a car crash about a year ago. He was run off the road by drunk drivers and was near death when he was found. He was rushed to hospital and operated on by Dr. James Rhodes. He made an almost full recovery however his hands were crushed in the dashboard of the car, which resulted in severe nerve damage. They still shake and hurt, meaning Stephen is often on prescription painkillers.

He was found by the Necromantica a few days after he returned home from the hospital. Rhodey, who operated on him, is also part of the Necromantica and so was able to get his records to the group. Bucky came to visit after Stephen discovered his new necro-botanic powers and explained things. Stephen now uses the support of plants wrapped around his hands to regain full control and dexterity with them.

Art for Stephen's power ⏬ (I know I fucked up the left arm)

Dr. James Rhodes: Was in a plane crash which resulted in his near death. Before that, he was a very good surgeon however, after the plane crash he was paralysed from the waist down. After he was released from the hospital he found that a few days later, he could miraculously walk again. Rhodey's power is that he can remove injuries from things and store them up to inflict on people later. Sam came to recruit Rhodey after this. Rhodey has to be very careful about skin to skin contact with anyone because he still has the paralysis stored up: he never found a good reason to use it.

Sam Wilson: A therapist at the local clinic. He used to get the medical records to find out whom to help/recruit to the Necromantica. Now Rhodey helps get the records too. Sam is a veteran and fought in Vietnam. Although he came home with no physical injuries he had extremely bad PTSD and attempted suicide. The gun, however, misfired and his family got him to hospital in time. When he woke up he discovered he had the power to sap the lifespan from others and add it to his own.

James Barnes: One of the Necromantica's 'recruitment officers'. He is the longest-standing member after Sam and was the one who brought in Stephen. He used to be a weapons dealer in Texas however, one of the deal went south and the arms warehouse got blown up with him still in it. His arm had to be amputated, and he now has a cybernetic one designed by Thor. From the explosion Bucky gained to reanimate a person's body for a limited amount of time, no matter how much of them is damaged or missing.

Thor Thomas: the founder of a prestigious technology company and an accomplished engineer. He and his brother Loki are child abuse survivors. They were almost beaten to death by their father, who was in a drunken rage, at a young age. Thor developed the ability to magnify and manipulate the minuscule electric current flowing through organisms, although this often results in their death (it's a delicate process.) This was found out when he was returned to his parents from the hospital. His father made to slap Loki however Thor caught his hand. Sparks erupted and his mother had to pull both children away as Odin stumbled back and hit the floor. Fire burst from under him and the house burnt to the ground before the fire department could arrive.

Loki Thomas: Thor's brother. Can reveal the most likely past and future of a person and sometimes an animal. The prophecy usually centres around their death or that of someone close to them.

Steve Rogers: The Necromantica's other 'recruiting agent'. He was a foot soldier in WW2 when he fell off a train during a raid. He ended up frozen and preserved in the ice until he was found decades later. He's the only know person to wake up and recover from a cryogenic-like process. This is probably due to the power he developed over his time in the ice. Steve can freeze people down to their very core, leaving them soulless zombies. However, he can also reverse this process in not only his own victims but those of mental illness - bring them back in touch with reality and re-animate their will to live. This is why he is one of the group's main therapists who deal with PTSD.

Natasha Romanov: Another member of the Necromantica. She's an ex-KGB spy and was tortured to near death by her employers after she quit. Before this, she suspected something was going to happen to her, so she left clues to her location, which her father unravelled and followed. He got her medical help just in time and she survived after intensive surgery and being comatose for around a week. After that she aware that she could see numbers above people's heads. One was a timer ticking down to their time of death, the other a counter of how many people they'd killed. What she discovered, however, was that the timer could be edited. Someone who had meer seconds before being hit by a car could be saved by her intervening, or even just thinking about increasing the timer. It didn't always work on people with grievous injuries, however, it worked about 90% of the time.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff: Siblings who were Iraqi exchange students in Washington D.C. After white supremacists bombed a mosque, the building collapsed, nearly suffocating them as they were stuck inside. Both were unconscious when found, but they eventually woke up. Pietro, with the ability to speed up people's lives to their time of death (he can also reverse it); Wanda with the power to operate dead things like puppets.

Li Wei: Was in a train crash in China. Was barely alive when found and needed multiple transplants: he was transferred to a hospital in New York for this. Thor's company is the one who originally developed the surgical technology that saved Li's life. After waking from his coma, Li discovered his ability to move through other people's bodies. It's not a fun experience, but he can also reach in and edit things. He was only a nurse before the crash, however after settling in New York and joining the Necromantica he completed his degree to become a doctor. He's nicknamed Vision by the group and his close friends for his ability to see into another person's body. His power is extremely useful when performing delicate operations and a group of nurses and doctors who work with him know how he does it in case anything goes wrong, and to protect the secret.

Carol Danvers: Flew rescue helicopters to collect soldiers and sometimes civillians from high-risk areas around the world. Was one on the best pilots they had until her chopper was gunned down. She was flying a new and somewhat experimatal helicopter developed by engineering researchers at the time and absorbed a ton of radiation from the engine. She had minor injuries - only a broken arm and severe bruising - but had intense radiation poisoning. Eventually she recovered: mainly due to her power. She can drain the field of life force that radiates from everything living and can store it up to expel in photon blasts.

@salty-ironstrange-shipper @stxphxn-strange @ironstrange-prompts

U probably have no idea who I am, but I like your blogs and thought you might find this cool :)

#ironstrange #avengers #art #gel pens #headcanon #alternate universe #necromancy #magic

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dancingkirby · 3 years

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Azula Week Day 4: AU

@azulaweek

This could’ve worked for Day 3 too, but I’m glad I took the extra day to add final details. It’s my first attempt at an ATLA AU!

WARNINGS: Multiple character deaths, and Azula struggling with grief, depression, and paranoia as a result. Mentions of blood, and some brief gory imagery. Vague references to sexual abuse. Azula is possibly not the most reliable of narrators. (There. I think that’s everything!)

Everyone had blamed Father for Zuko’s untimely death, but Azula didn’t get it. How was he supposed to have known that his oldest legitimate child had had an undiagnosed heart condition, and that the stress of the Agni Kai would cause it to give out on him when Father hadn’t even properly touched him with the flames yet?! But he had, and it did, and that was that. He had given Zuzu all the proper funeral rites, and still the nobles were mad at him!

(Azula had only cried a very little bit at the funeral, when Father wasn’t looking.)

Now that Azula was the heir, Father said, she needed extra lessons with him. These sessions were no longer simply practicing katas and memorizing military engagements: now she was to learn how to rule. Father would talk to her every day, and sometimes long into the night as well. There was something almost frantic about the vast amount of information he was pumping into her head, as if he sensed that he had much material to cover and a limited amount of time in which to cover it.

He’d been right.

The worst came to pass on a sunny yet not beastly hot summer day, almost five months after Zuko’s death. Father had decided to reward Azula’s progress in her studies with a walk through the gardens together. There had been more gardeners out working that day than usual, but Azula hadn’t paid it any mind. (Stupid, stupid!) They’d stopped by a rosebush, Father bending over to smell an especially tantalizing bloom, when Azula felt the shadow upon them, saw a glint of metal out of the corner of her eye. She’d barely had time to shout out a warning when one of the gardeners leapt onto Father. Others soon followed. There were so many of them attacking at the same time, dozens of them, with the element of surprise on their side, that he hadn’t been able to inflict more than minor injuries with his firebending before he was completely incapacitated by his wounds. Nobody came to his rescue.

Azula had tried to fight them on her own, but several other men had immediately chi-blocked and grabbed her, working in perfect synchrony. Even with her bending suppressed, she’d kicked and scratched and bit and screamed with all her might, but their hold was too strong for her to overcome. They’d rushed her out of there, carrying her lengthwise and keeping a firm grip on her head, so she didn’t see much of what happened. She only got a quick glimpse of blood and Father’s body slumped over the bush before there was a stinging pain in her neck and everything went blurry.

They’d kept her heavily sedated for the next couple of days; she did attend the hasty funeral, but couldn’t recall any details of it later on. Finally, she came to her senses, only to find herself in Father’s massive suite of rooms, lying in bed. As soon as they realized she was awake, the two servants who had been watching her at the time fell into immediate kowtows at the foot of her bed, and addressed her as “Fire Lord.” All Azula could do was blink at them. Father, that constant towering presence throughout her entire life, was dead just like that. And she, in the span of a few frenzied minutes, had been promoted from Crown Princess to Fire Lord. She was still three months away from her twelfth birthday, yet she was the absolute ruler of fifty million people. Unimaginable power was hers…if she could figure out how to keep it for herself.

Nothing seemed quite real at first. Now that Father’s grueling early-morning firebending demonstrations and late-night quizzes–as well as her obligations to Daddy–had abruptly ceased, Azula had so much more free time that she wasn’t sure what to do with it all. The first day that she was allowed out of bed, she went straight to the Fire Lord’s office. Sitting at the enormous and beautiful mahogany desk that had been built during Fire Lord Zoren’s reign, she flipped through the pile of important papers awaiting her signature, inspected all of the little drawers and secret compartments, held her brand new seal. Her head was muffled as if it was underwater, and she started feeling dizzy. She couldn’t breathe…

(She was told later that she’d been found lying on the office floor, laughing hysterically. Or possibly crying; the servants didn’t all agree on that point.)

As the details of just what had happened slowly leaked out, though, Azula knew she had to snap out of this state quickly. It transpired that a group of assassins had dressed as servants and gotten admittance into the garden. Most of the Royal Guard had either been bribed, or were in on the plan themselves; they’d made certain that the ones who were truly loyal were sent elsewhere at the time. This had been no ragtag group of malcontents who had acted on impulse. The number of people involved had been massive, and the assassination had been coordinated and carried out flawlessly. Even so, to Azula’s fury, their death sentences had been commuted to banishment while she’d still been bedridden. They had obviously had the backing of someone powerful in the palace to be able to carry out the plan like that and escape proper punishment.

Azula knew exactly who that person was…the same man who’d been declared regent before Father’s body was cold. Uncle Iroh. He’d kept his own hands clean, but Azula was certain he’d had it all planned out months in advance; anything to avenge his beloved Zuzu. She highly doubted that he’d have done the same had she been the one to die. Oh sure, he’d put up an act of being concerned about her initially. He’d come to her room a couple times, tried to talk to her, asked if Father had hit her, or had mistreated her in “other ways”. At this last, she had threatened to have him thrown in the palace dungeon, and he made no further attempts.

Obviously, he had expected Azula to continue to be in shock–a shell of herself–and easy to manipulate. He’d let her sit on the throne to receive important visitors, to preside over official ceremonies…but he would hold the real power. And then, as soon as she came of age to dissolve the regency, he’d likely marry her off to one of his supporters, the idea being that she’d be too busy with childbearing to oppose being turned into a figurehead.

Azula intended to prove him wrong. Her first official act as Fire Lord had been to change the lock on the door of Father’s office, so that Iroh had had to go find another room from which to work. Petty, maybe, but satisfying nonetheless. Her second act had been to start forming her own spy network. Ty Lee and Mai would prove invaluable for the latter; no one would suspect a couple of schoolgirls of plotting anything.

(Ty Lee kept worrying about her and asking how she was doing. Mai, as usual, kept any and all feelings to herself. But, no matter how strong the temptation got, Azula could never confide in either of them. That would make them her equals.)

Within a week, Azula had solid evidence that Iroh was holding secret talks with the ultimate goal of ending the war. And he thought everyone would just kiss and make up, and the world would be a perfect place where nothing bad ever happened and everyone would just sit around and drink tea all day? Ha. Unfortunately, she couldn’t remove him from power…not yet, at least. He had too much support for that. What she could do was make his life utterly miserable. Father’s advisors got quite the surprise when she walked into the war room that first time and took her rightful seat on the throne. Regent or not, Iroh still had to bow and otherwise show deference to her in public. And Azula was determined to relentlessly argue every single policy change he proposed until he wished he were dead in Father’s place. Someday, as soon as she was able to rally her own supporters, Uncle would get his wish as he was finally punished for his crimes.

New guards had been selected for her, but she refused to have anything to do with them. There was the possibility that they might turn on her as well, and the certainty that they were reporting back to Uncle. Even the few who had been proven innocent of any involvement in Father’s death had been too trusting of their colleagues. And what about the servants? What if they were plotting things as well? Shiza had taken her children and fled at the first possible opportunity, the bitch. No, this wouldn’t do. Any palace staff that she’d allow anywhere near her would have to undergo a rigorous selection process, run by her and only her.

With all of these pressing concerns, every day seemed like a lifetime to her. Nevertheless, the weeks started passing. Azula made sure that the palace was always ablaze with entertainment. She poured money into the arts like no Fire Lord had done in generations. Erhu and pipa players were stationed in her antechamber all day. She had sleepovers with Mai and Ty Lee and Ruanyu almost nightly, where they binged on sweets and bounced on the mattress of the Fire Lord’s bed until they almost puked. There were lavish garden parties, huge banquets, plays and operas and ceremonial dances. A few foolish people had hinted to her that this might not be the most appropriate course of action in a time of mourning, but she insisted that Father would have wanted it this way. The rest of the court, Uncle included, indulged her. Azula could tell what they were all thinking: Look at our beloved child ruler, so brave after the trauma of witnessing her father’s assassination. Let her have her fun. However, this line of thought was inaccurate in two ways. Firstly, she wasn’t a child, and hadn’t been for some time. Secondly, she didn’t actually enjoy any of it; she just wanted something to occupy her brain, to protect her from her own thoughts.

(The humongous pillows on Father’s…no, her bed were excellent for muffling her sobs at night, once the festivities were over and everything was quiet. She was good at putting up a front for now, but how much longer until that collapsed? How was she supposed to continue like this, without him? She was surrounded by people, yet all alone. It was as if a huge bleeding hole had been ripped into her gut, tearing her internal organs asunder. Would this ever heal? Could it?)

Nearly a month into her reign, Azula was finally crowned. Traditionally, the coronation of a new Fire Lord would occur on the same day as the old one’s funeral. However, Iroh had kept finding reasons to postpone hers. But now he’d run out of excuses, and the Fire Sages assembled at the Coronation Temple for the second time in less than three years. As the surprisingly heavy hairpiece was set into Azula’s topknot, she knelt in the new mantle and robes that had had to be custom-made for her small frame.

“Hail Fire Lord Azula!” the head Fire sage boomed. Azula got to her feet, looking out at the Sages kneeling before her, and then to the crowds of cheering commoners watching from afar.

They all loved her. She felt nothing.

#Azula #Azulaweek2021 #fanfic #short stories about azula

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power-of-plot · 3 years

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Armin Arlet x Fem! Reader. Oneshot. -Strong-

The first paragraph is purely a small introduction, just in case you wanna go straight to the fic :)

First of all, thanks for reading this! So! i often considered posting but i'm insecure, today i somehow got the confidence and courage to post -definitely not due to watching anime motivational speeches-. I wanted my first post to be something special so i dived deep down into my thoughts for a couple hours, i'm pretty happy with my choice so hope you enjoy it! My apologies if this sucks.

WARNINGS: Some sadness ig? -Armin being a pure soul. Fluff

Summary: Armin suddenly gets an injury during ODM gear training. After Reiner and his protective nature lend a helping hand, you see beyond the walls of his stoicism, people around him made his lack of strenght clear as day and he seemed to accept it but you never wondered if that caused him any pain at all. He needs to know everything has more than one meaning including what is called strenght, you gladly stay by his side to remind him different doesn't mean wrong.

Year 848 three years after the Colossal titan's misterious appearance, in Paradis Island Keith Shadis trained and yelled his lungs out at what soon would be the 104th Cadet Corps. Like any other day, the young cadets rutinarily trained to master the ODM gear, it all would have been the same as other sessions if it wasn't for Armin Arlet, your close and femenine looking friend who in a reckless (and failed-) attempt of proving himself strong to his group discretly tried performing a complex manouver resulting in him crashing into a tree. The few people ahead of him who stopped momentantarily to admire the manouever slowly resumed their way to the target they've had been assigned, just after a couple minutes of trying to walk bearing the pain the silhouette of someone along with the sound of gas and wires pulling something was getting closer by the second at the injured male. "Who's t-.. oh no.." Being around that person for so long made his oceanic eyes know who that brawny body and short blond hair belonged to inmediately, his deep voice shouting erased all the doubt. "Armin!" Reiner said rushing towards him as soon as his feet touched the the grass. As he looked for injuries, finding a twisted ankle, scrapes and bruises; Armin confirmed his suspicions: Reiner had dropped on what he was doing again just to help a single person. Right when he thought the guilt couldn't turn bigger he heard another familiar voice, this one belonged to a female. "Reiner! I saw you going back, what happened? Wait- Armin?!" Your voice turned alarmed after your (e/c) eyes catched a glimpse of your friend's characteristic golden hair, as if that would magically heal his injuries you rocketed towards your comrades at full speed. The crash- landing was rather ungraceful but it was merely trivial compared to an injured friend "(Y/N) are you-" Reiner held out his arms as he walked towards you but you ran past him leaving him standing alone with his arms opened like a rejected boy "Armin!!" You crouched down to him as it seemed he couldn't stand up, worrying you even more "...Hey (Y/N)... what are you..." His glance went lower as the guilt and shame's hand pushed his head down "What do you mean what am i doing? I noticed Reiner was going back from the front and i couldn't find you!- Hey what's wrong?" You asked after noticing a hint of sadness in his eyes, tilting your head and resting your forearms on your knees "Nothing, i must have hit my head that's all.." -because i dared prove something even myself knew full well- He replied blunty, making an adition mentally. His analytic mind was acting as a double ended weapon, either overnalyzing each and every one of his flaws or making the weight his frail shoulders were already carrying heavier. "Armin get on" Reiner said kneeling down turning his back to Armin so he could get on "Hm? It's not necessary, i-i'll just take my time to- ah!" Without further asking the muscular soldier turned around scooping your friend up from the ground into his arms bridal style, his eyes fixed on the grass and his lips released a soft sigh as embarrasment was displayed on his face. In other situation you'd have joked about how he looked cute being held like a baby but a hunch plus his face kept you completely from doing so. "You want to recover fast, don't you?" Reiner asked preparing his equipment to propulse himself again "Y-yeah but why.." "You'll only worsen your condition if you try walking, bear with it just for a while. Besides, what kind of soldier would i be if i left a friend behind knowing i can help him?" His hazel eyes noticed you were about to say something so he remained still to let you get close "It's okay don't be so hard on yourself i just crashed on the ground a moment ago, how did you call it the other day..? You didn't make a mistake, it was a happy accident! (Armin is Bob Ross.) How did you even find out about that manouever anyway?" "I've been analyzing the instructor's movements for a while now..." You deduced Reiner would take him to the infirmary wich he confirmed with a nod after you asked and so, it didn't take a single second for you to decide you'd go with them. The three of you flew and swung across the forest though it seemed like it only was you and Reiner, Armin was so quiet for a moment you even thought he was asleep.

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"..Thank you very much Reiner" The blond thanked him now lying on his bunk, his ankle was bandaged up and his minor injuries were treateed "No problem, don't do anything until you're sure it won't hurt you got it?" "Don't worry Reiner i'll keep an eye on him 'till he's good as new!" You said cheerfuly with a smile as you sat by Armin's side, not caring a bit you were of the few girls in there. Once Reiner walked to his own bunk with Bertholdt you turned to Armin with a curious look "So what're you thinking about, you've been very quiet so it must be serious. Any new interesting thing about the outside world?" "Not really." His response was blunt again, something was definitely on his mind otherwise you couldn't explain why he wasn't as talkative as always. As he quietly stared at the matress above him you tried figuring out what could be bothering the boy since it was a lost cause trying to make him say it, you learnt this after countless tries, thankfully you could always ask for some help with Mikasa; her skills at everything including reading people were so good it was almost frightening. She wasn't there at the time and you couldn't rely on the others forever, a small leap of faith wouldn't do any harm, would it? There was only one thing you could think of. "Armin you are not weak." Your (e/c) eyes looked straight into his blue ones, silence reigned between you two before he hummed softly as if trying to deny "Why so?" It was as you suspected, he was blaming himself for making a simple mistake (-rolling girl vibes- sorry xd). You sighed resting your back on the headboard as your hand gently grabbed his forearm "You know it's not a bad thing to make mistakes, it's an everyday thing" "If we do become actual soldiers we'll risk our and the other's lifes everyday. This training is hard to make us strong, to make sure we don't make a single mistake that could lead to a tragedy" "You are not weak Armin." Your voice reasured in a firmer but gentle tone, he believed in what he had proof of, you would give him the proof he needed. Before he had the chance to turn on his side your hand grabbed his shoulder, making you two lock glances again, for your surprise small tears were forming on the corner of his eyes "I'm sorry.." "D-don't apologize it's okay! Come on let me help you what are you..?" He sat up shaking his head refusing to let a word out even when the tears slipped down his cheeks, it was painful to see Armin weep yet not ask for help, you've had been told he was like this since his childhood but it still was hard to believe and who knows if his overthinking made dealing with things on his own easier, he wouldn't try comforting himself. You sighed placing your hand on his shoulder and moving your thumb caressing the skin beneath his clothes, small muffled sobs could be heard coming from him "After that day on Shinganshina.. hundreds of people were sent there as if they were able to fight the titans, they didn't care if they were kids or elders- my grandfather went in my place, i know it wouldn't have made much of a difference but" He made a pause to try making his breathing go back to normal and hold back his tears, leaving just a small trace under his eyes "But he raised me, he gave me a name.. and i simply let him go straight to his death- i didn't make any effort to tell him i would go because i was scared.." You had to lean closer to listen clearly to what he was saying since he didn't want to drag anyone's attention besides yours "Sometimes i wonder what kind of things must have he felt when he realised he'd die alone..? I want to become a soldier to keep that from happening again, even though i'm just one it'd make a difference if only i.. wasn't such a weak coward" As he spoke you could almost feel the weight of his guilt resting on your shoulders for a moment, had he always been hiding in a shell? Ever since he was a child? A tear sprouted from the corner of your eye imagining how many times he suffered silently. You put your finger to your lower lip as you analyzed what your next move should be, after all it was Armin you were talking about, not all words would have effect on him "Strenght... physical strenght is not the only important thing, YES it is important in a soldier but the mind also matters! I can't lie, you get scared easily but so do i!. What about the snake from the other day? Someone had to remove it from your leg after you paralyzed but you were brave enough to not kick or scream in panic" Let's accept it you sucked at motivational speeches, your attempts usuallly ended up making him chuckle but it was some progress taking in mind you had no idea how to comfort him at the beggining. This time was no exception, he grew a tender smile but it faded away in matter of seconds "Come on Armin, you may be a little slim but what you don't have here-" Your hands abruptly dropped on his arms specifying you refered to muscles, then, your middle finger poked his forehead making him flinch "You have it here" "..What was that f-" He was cut off by your finger presisng against his lips "Shush- you are smart, incredibly smart you just have to see it! We all fall on our butts and feel scared of small things sometimes but that is what makes us humans, if we didn't feel fear or anything at all we'd be just like the titans!" You felt impressed of your own words, the look on his face made it clear he echoed the feeling. You wathed him move with his hands towards you before pulling you into one of the warmest hugs you've ever experienced; he held you so close and tightly you could feel his heart beating against you. "Thank you." His head rested on the crook of your neck, the gold strings of his beatiful hair falling over his face and tickling your nape slightly. You corresponded the gesture by eveloping him into your arms, slowly moving your palm up and down on his back "No problem....... Christa-"

Oof! That was long, congratulations if you read the whole thing!

#attack on titan #armin x reader #aot fanfiction #armin arlet x reader #armin arlert

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drwcn · 4 years

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I was reading your post about consent for surgery and I had a question. Aren't there cases where if the patient is not of sound mind or unable to make an informed decision, then family can decide for them? That's not to say that WWX was entirely of sound mind at that point (he'd also been through insane trauma & was trying desperately to hold onto the family he had left). But JC was in a much worse state and retrospectively I agree JC would never have agreed to taking anyone else's core, but 1/2

I know I said i wasn’t going to answer asks until I’m done my exams but this one just came in and it’s a topic close and dear to my heart, so I’m going to take a couple of minutes to answer it. Thank you for the ask, but I think this brings up a lot of misconceptions of what is medical consent, capacity, competency, and substitute decision making. This is a very complicated and legally heavy topic. So it will be a long post. I apologize for that.

There are several misconceptions in the ask, and I will be addressing them in this order:

That Jiang Cheng is “not of sound mine” and cannot “make an informed decision”.

The role of family and substitute decision making

“force a life saving measure on a family member”.

Issue 1 : Jiang Cheng is not competent and has no capacity to consent.

There is no doubt that Jiang Cheng has gone through significant trauma, and that he is emotionally fragile, but this does not medically equate him to having no capacity to make surgical decisions and this certainly does not make him legally incompetent. If I may, I will define “informed decision”, “capacity” and “competency”.

The criteria of obtaining informed consent is described below.

Decision maker must:

Be aware of his/her right to withdraw consent at any time

Be free of undue influence, duress or coercion in making the consent decision (aka no one is paying them or holding a gun to their head)

Receive a proper explanation that includes but is not limited to:

diagnosis reached

advised interventions and treatments;

exact nature and anticipated benefits of the proposed examination, assessment, treatment or procedure;

common risks and significant risks;

reasonable alternative treatments available, and the associated common risks and significant risks; and

natural history of the condition and the consequences of forgoing treatment;

All of this must be explained to the patient before a procedure can be undertaken. And the patient must be able to understand what is told, and to appreciate the gravity of their choice. This brings us to the idea of “capacity”.

Capacity is not how emotionally distressed you are, or how traumatized you are. If my partner (the love of my life) and I both got into a horrible car accident, but I sustained minor injuries while he requires significant surgery, you can reasonably assume that I am in deep emotional distress. However, if I were his POA (power of attorney), I would still have the capacity to decide and consent for his surgery on his behalf if he is no longer capable (e.g.: he is unconscious).

Capacity refers to a person’s ability to make a decision that is “task specific”. As in, can he make a decision about this particular thing we’re asking him. It requires the person (Jiang Cheng) to:

Reason and deliberate - can Jiang Cheng make logical sense of the procedure and its consequences.

Hold appropriate values and goals - Jiang Cheng would want to protect his family, avenge his parents and defeat Wen Ruohan.

Appreciate one's circumstances - does Jiang Cheng know that without his surgery he will never get core back? Does he know the risks of the surgery to himself, to his brother, and its chances of success?

Understand information one is given - are Jiang Cheng’s cognitive functions intact to for him to understand and appreciate the information given?

And communicate a choice.

Can Jiang Cheng do all of that? The conclusion of the assessment for capacity ultimately lies with the attending physician. Medical capacity is a result of a physician’s assessment. Capacity wasn’t even a consideration for Jiang Cheng. Wen Qing agreed because Wei Wuxian begged, and probably because she also felt guilty. And that’s not how she should’ve done it.

From what I have seen on the show, Jiang Cheng is capable. I can say with 99% confidence that what happened to him is a gross violation of his bodily autonomy and his rights. No physician would agree to do a surgery the way Wen Qing did. In a way, she was compromised, and she should’ve seen that there was a conflict of interest between herself, Wei Wuxian, and her patient Jiang Cheng. If I were her, I would be mortified that I had done something like this.

On the other hand, competency is a legal status. It doesn’t change with activity and task. A judge needs to decide this and once you’re deemed incompetent, there’s usually no going back. This doesn’t really apply in CQL because...well they don’t have a judicial system. I can explain competency fully in another ask if you’re still interested. One thing I will say is that even “incompetent” individuals can have “capacity” for certain decisions. E.g: my grandmother with dementia while she cannot decide whether she undergoes a knee replacement or not, she can decide that she doesn’t want apple sauce with her morning meal. Again, competency is a global assessment leading to a legal status change, whereas capacity is task specific.

Issue 2: the role of family and substitute decision maker

Substitute decision makers (SDM) are brought in when the patient is deemed lacking capacity to make a certain decision, and as I have explained above, Jiang Cheng does not qualify as lacking capacity. In modern law, the role of SDM is different from country to country, even provinces/states to provinces/states.

For a lot places, pediatric patients are not able to consent for themselves and their parents are usually their SDM. This is not the case where I live. Children, as long as they are assessed by their physician to be capable of making specific decisions, will be able to make decisions in their medical treatment. This assessment is on-going throughout medical care. In many other places, parents are the SDMs. However: please note that good medical practice will still include the children in the discussion of their care as much as is appropriate for their age and ability, and that while they cannot consent, clinicians must try their best to obtain children’s ‘assent’ (aka their agreement and cooperation).

For seniors with dementia, their SDMs are their spouse or in lack that, their children. Without a specific POA - power of attorney, that is the one person the patient has written down as their legal SDM - all SDMs on the same level must come to an agreement before a procedure can be carried out. What do I mean by that? SDMs come in levels. Where I live, at the top level is the spouse. Without a specific designated POA, spouse is always SDM, their decision trumps everyone else’s. Without a spouse, the next on the list is usually children. If there are multiple children, they must all agree on what to do for mom or dad before the doctor can act. If they can’t agree, there’s usually a due process where physicians can petition the court to have a designated third-party SDM appointed. In all cases with SDMs, they should not be acting according to their own values but the values and wishes of the patient to be best of their understanding. If doctors suspect that SDMs are not following the values of their patient, there is also a process where they can petition the court to have the SDMs’ rights removed. It’s a very lengthy process and this doesn’t happen often.

For Jiang Cheng, if for example he never gained consciousness (so he is completely incompetent) and we consider Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian to be at the same SDM level (JC’s siblings), then they should’ve had a discussion with Jiang Cheng’s values and beliefs in mind and come to a conclusion together. Only that decision should be implemented. Of course, this didn’t happen because WWX and his martyr complex made an unilateral decision for himself based on what he thinks is right.

Issue 3: Forcing people to live against their will.

Does this happen? Tragically yes. It does. Should it happen? No. Absolutely no.

The grey areas are when a senior never wrote in legal documentation explicitly that they don’t want life sustaining measure, but that maybe in passing they’ve mentioned to their nurse or physician. When they become incompetent (coma, dementia, delirium, stroke, rapid decline in cognitive function), the children want everything to be done for dad or mom, and refuse to switch to palliative care or to end life support.

In those cases, unfortunately, many institutions will go with the families’ wishes because hospitals don’t want to be sued, and families do sue, even when all the medical team has done is respect the patient’s wishes.

There are many pediatric cases as well where parents cannot cope with their loss and can’t let go. The child could be brain-dead or in persistent vegetative state, and so even though nurses and doctors feel a lot of moral distress at continuously giving aggressive measure that they know it won’t help, they can’t stop. Because if they do, they can get sued. And sometimes it’s not even just a matter of lawsuits. These things can get crazy, media can twist the truth and people can get death threats. Feel free to google these cases.

So yeah, it happens. But it shouldn’t. Just because it happens, doesn’t mean it’s right.

And this doesn’t apply to Jiang Cheng. Because he isn’t brain dead, he isn’t in a coma, he doesn’t have frontal cortex damage, he doesn’t dementia. He is in complete control of all his faculties. So what happened to him was a crime. And if there are other examples where patients were forced into/lied to about medical procedures by their family, those are crimes too.

And yes CQL is a tv show set in fantasy china, so does it all really matter? I guess, if you don’t care that much about the drama, then no, it doesn’t matter. But keep in mind this wasn’t a historical drama, we’re not analyzing a historical figures’s actions with modern ethics. That would be misplaced. This was a fantasy drama, written by a modern girl, living in modern society. And its audiences are people living in the global community, so it should matter how it impacts the viewers who watch it.

From a modern western medical perspective, Jiang Cheng does not owe Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning anything. I liked Wen Ning up until he threw the core surgery reveal in Jiang Cheng’s face so cruelly. People cheered him on, but I was very upset.

Jiang Cheng owes these three nothing. Not a damn thing.

#corie replies #the untamed #cql #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #cql meta #medical consent: a running saga

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unoriginalias · 3 years

Text

The Fox.

The hospital was quiet. The echoed footsteps of doctors moving between rooms and patients being wheeled close behind created a background symphony of regularity. No hall was special and no room seemed unique, the white washed walls blended together to form a maze of modern indifference. In the reception sat patients of varying urgancy ranging from minor illness to deep wounds. Even here, where no two injuries were the same, everyone seemed to blend together. James hated it.

As he looked at the faces he failed to differentiate each pathetic sack of flesh from another, their features blurring into what could only be described as a mask they all wore. The hooded figure stood to his feet and stretched, his joints cracking and popping in a sort of rebellious way. The only anonymity James had would be stripped as he removed his black and white hoodie, showing his face as clear as day to any surveillance cameras in the room. Things would get interesting very soon.

As he held his favourite piece of clothing in his arms he would fetch a box of approximately 1 metre of dental floss, looking over the object with a Cheshire grin. The hoodie would then disappear from his arms completely, having been teleported to a safe location while the dirty work was underway. Now the blonde headed boy was wearing nothing but a dirty pair of grey jeans and a black shirt. His wrists showed several sets of scars that ranged from weeks old to mere hours, all of them being quiet serious injuries in their own right. A nearby man who seemed to be suffering from the effects of a cold would witness the disappearance of the clothing and raise his eyes to meet James.

As the 60-70 year old veteran stood to his feet to peer around James for where his hoodie had gone his throat would be cut open, falling back into his seat spluttering for air. The man's hands clutched his throat tightly as he attempted to prevent himself from bleeding out, however he was only allowing his aged lungs to fill with his own juices to drown on. James of course reveled in his first kill of the night, hearing others scream as they examined the thump caused by the elderlys tragic fall. Above the man's soon to be twitching corpse hovered a string like length of floss, James arm outstretched as if commanding the telekinetically mobile object forth.

James next movements were much more focused on his personal sense of grandeur as his arms moved rhythmically. Outwardly it seemed as if he were slow dancing with the length of floss being his partner, each turn of his body and flick of his wrist resulting in his partner shooting forward and through the throat of an unfortunate father that had attempted to rush him. The orchestra of violent chaos played on in James mind as no individual was left unharmed, except those that happened to be close enough to the door to run. In a measly three minutes the crowded room of 50 people had been reduced to 46 corpses. James took a bow as his symphony grew to a close, hearing the echoed applause in his deluded mind. As he turned to revel in his kills he would find the drowning sobs of a child to fill the room. In James stupor he had almost completely missed his jugular and as such the boy was left to a slow and gruesome death. James frowned as he kneeled beside the child, his father already lying dead beside him. The Fox reached his hand out to carres the boys cheek, a small flinch being all he could muster with his life slowly draining. "Shhh, shhh. I am truly sorry your death must be so violent, little one. But believe me, it will be better on the other side." James would whisper comfortingly, his chesire smile never truly leaving his face. The boy seemed at least slightly calmed by the only humane gesture James had shown since beginning his spree.

This however was merely James not wanting the boy to ruin the sight of his death with his insufferable sobbing. If he were truly humane he would have blown the boys skull to bits to put him out of his misery. Instead he chose to play Saint and give him a less violent end. The first room had been cleared and his floss was now a bloodied useless mess and so James would have to resort to other methods of killing his victims. Approaching the counter he would stuff as many pens as possible into his pockets before flinging his arm outward as a pen made its way directly into the camera that had recorded his entire performance. His next move was to bust down the doors that seperated the reception from the rest of the hospital. A fireball erupted down the hall as it tore through the door and an unlucky doctor whom happened to be approaching the reception for his next patient.

His screams of agony alerted those within the rooms that jutted off the hall, patients and doctors alike jumping to see what had happened. A mother and her sniffling daughter would be instantly killed as a ball point pen passed through their brains while the doctor next to them instead had his spine and kidney speared. Another doctor in the opposite room quickly found a hole in her liver the size of an A 2B pencil. The man beside her however was not gifted the painless death the other two patients had as James pulls the construction worker forward telekinetically.

At the same time James twisted his hips towards the much larger man as he planted a downward haymaker into the side of his jaw. The man would fall to the ground beneath James as he pulled his fist back to deliver three more violent blows to his skull in rapid succession before the man could snap out of his shock. Once alert the construction worker had no problem overpowering the scrawny Fox and grabbing his throat tightly. They were then flipped as the man wildly dug his thumbs into James throat, crushing his windpipe. James did not attempt to pry the man's hands away from his throat, instead his hands began to glow a feint red. In an act of pure chaotic violence James superheated palms would press upward against the man's cheek and eyes, acting as a firebrand. The searing of flesh and screams of agony resounded as James held his grip even after the man had flailed backward against the wall. The screams continued for a minute or so until James had burned his way into the man's brain, feeling the gooey mess for a moment before allowing the corpse to slump down. The brain itself falling from its skull home.

James continued his rampage throughout the hospital with a trend of letting the patients have a quick death wherever possible while taking sick pleasure in the agony of anyone that worked there. Standing over a wide-eyed human pin cushion, James would marvel at his killing proficiency. However as he looked down he would suddenly be forced to become acquainted with a sword that had lodged itself into his back downwards. He would smile to himself before turning to face his attackers, narrowly avoiding another identical blade launched from a pentagram wielded by a masked individual. Two others stood at his side however one brandished two silenced pistols and the other simply wielded a dagger.

Demon hunters were the lowest form of magical mercenaries, gaining their abilities and proficiencies from killing or trading with demons. "This one's got some spunk, he doesn't seem to care about the blessed blades" the one welding demon magic would state through a voice filter. His gun toting partner raised a pistol to James head and a smirk could be felt under the mask. "Let's see how a good ol fashioned bullet to the brain works" she would joke before getting ready to pull the trigger. A shot would ring out through the room although James was now nowhere in sight, having completely disappeared from his previous position. The sword that had embedded itself in his back clanged against the floor as it had not been teleported with him. The armed demon hunter felt her muscles move without her controlling them, her pistols moving to rest against her own skull. James stood across the room with a scalpel forced into the temple of the third assailant, watching in glee as he forced the female to fire upon herself.

With no time to think the magic user would fire out a volley of summoned weaponry, James watching and analysing every action as he dodged the incoming projectiles. James deemed his opponent weak and drew in a deep breath as he activated his pyrokinetic abilities. Ready to breath out a cleansing gust of flame James would be interrupted by his opponent clenching his outstretched fist, as if grabbing something that wasn't there. This gesture was meant to recall the summoned weapons to their owner causing the swords that James had dodged to fly back and lodge themselves in his back. The Fox had become a porcupine in seconds.

James would keel over as his spine was now severed in several places, his lungs pierced and filling with blood. His opponent would quickly rush over to place his foot on James throat, moving him onto his side to assess whether or not he was a threat still. It was, however, obvious that James had sustained fatal injuries. The Fox would then outstretch his fingers towards the masked demon hunter, forming a finger gun. The demon hunter would watch the boys final display of honour, assuming the boy was merely hallucinating. A grin spreading over the fox's cheeks as he pulled his imaginary trigger.

The mercenaries head would explode like a watermelon hit with a pebble moving at the speed of sound, chunks of flesh going everywhere as James then allowed himself to die.

#story #sequel #fantasy #tw gore #tw death

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coza-main · 3 years

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Hello yes hi-

I want a one-shot! Pretty pretty please?????

❤️🙂 Don't care about which pairing (though one from Naruto is preferred) but I'd love to read a big kiss as the finale!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I guess I should preface this by saying you do not get what you want at the end, I’m afraid. I hope you are still satisfied nonetheless. It’s been a while since I’ve written and even longer since I’ve published something so hopefully it isn’t too cringy! But I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope you enjoy it on some level.

Also if anyone wants to send any requests, I’ll keep my inbox open. I guess that’s a way I can celebrate 100?

---

Home

Sakura’s laugh was audible from the other side of the door as she fumbled with her keys. Light from the outside world flooded the room as Sakura’s voice became audible. “-well, Ino-pig. I honestly don’t know what you were-”.

Whatever Sakura was going to say was instantly cutoff when she sensed another chakra nature inside her apartment. She quickly pulled the door closed again and turned back to her friend. “Ino! I completely forgot to get us drinks! Do you mind running to the store and grabbing some while I tidy up?”

Ino began to protest, but Sakura quickly shoved a healthy amount of cash into her hand and stepped inside. “Buy whatever you want Ino-pig! I’ll meet you back here in 30 minutes!” Without waiting for a response, Sakura shut the door firmly. She could hear Ino grumbling as she walked away, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed sharply at the silhouette in the chair. “You need to leave right now. You weren’t supposed to be back for another week. If Ino had seen you-”.

“I’m sorry, Sakura,” he cut her off. “It was...quite urgent.” There was pain in his voice that brought Sakura immediate concern. His words were thick, as though he could pass out at any moment. Now that her senses were alert, she could smell the distinct scent of iron. She cursed herself for not noticing it sooner as she flicked on the light.

“Itachi,” she breathed out, fear shining in her eyes. “What did you do?”. The wound on his shoulder was so deep she could see the white of his collarbone shining through the mixture of wet and dried blood. She was kneeling at his side in an instant, a green glow enveloping her hands.

“Kisame found out.” He flinched as Sakura’s hands touched his skin, but offered no other explanation. Sakura simply nodded, not needing any clarification. If Kisame had discovered that Itachi was actually a traitor to the Akatsuki, there was no doubt that he would try to neutralize the threat. Itachi was lucky that he got away from the swordsman with just this wound.

Sakura’s mind was full of questions, but chose to stick to the professional ones for the time being. “When did this happen? Were you followed? How much blood have you lost?”

Itachi only grunted in response, and Sakura’s eyes flicked up to meet his only to find that his head had begun to lull backwards. “Itachi,” she snapped loudly, waking him back up again. When his eyes finally met hers, she returned her focus to healing and repeated her questions again.

“He caught me right at the border.” Itachi was always short whenever he first arrived at her apartment. He only answered the questions asked, never offering anything more. If Kisame had caught Itachi at the border, he would have been close behind him as Itachi fled to her. And with a nose created to sniff out blood…

“He’s dead.” Itachi’s voice sounded pained, which brought Sakura back from her thoughts. Her brow furrowed as she checked to see what injury she must’ve missed before she realized that a jutsu would not help this kind of pain.

“You did what you had to do. If you didn’t, you would be…” She could bring herself to say dead. Her heart nearly broke at the thought of it. Itachi merely nodded in response, his eyes staring into the distance at nothing in particular. She wanted to help him, but the necessary words seemed locked away, inaccessible to her.

She looked at Itachi’s wound, which was no longer life-threatening, and stood up. She decided to leave the wound tender as an alibi. He would need injuries since Kisame was dead. “Can you move? This’ll be easier to clean up in the bathroom.”

Itachi looked around as if he had just realized the mess he had created. “Ah, yes. I’m so sorry about all of...this.” He started to stand, but staggered backwards. Sakura quickly looped herself under his arm to help him gain his footing as if it were second nature to her.

“Take it easy. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ve got you.” Itachi simply smiled softly at her and nodded.

Once they were in the bathroom, Sakura sat Itachi on the ground and wet a rag to begin cleaning off the blood. He still had that sad, distant look in his eyes. And she still had no comforting words to offer him. Medical training had taught Sakura that when you can’t comfort someone, it’s best to distract them. So that’s what she did. She sat down next to him and began dabbing off the blood from his skin.

“Tsunade-sama has me working just about every waking hour in the hospital. It’s hard, but very rewarding.” She wiped away at the blood as she thought back on notable events. “I actually reattached a limb earlier this week! The guy came in so mangled, Itachi! It wasn’t even a shinobi. Just a construction worker in a freak accident.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint smile dance across Itachi’s face as he watched her. A sign to keep going. “By the time I finished up with him, he could move his toes. He has a long road ahead of him but he should make a full recovery! Oh, and on our training day last week, I even started talking to Tsunade-sama about Sasuke, which led to us talking about the massacre. I think I may be able to get her to relook-”

“Sakura,” he cut her off, all hints of joy gone from his face as quickly as it had appeared. “I’ve already told you that you are risking your life by doing that. As long as Danzo is in Konoha nothing will come to fruition. I will still be a traitor to the village. There is no reason for you to risk your safety here for something that will only result in your death.”

“But-”

“Stop being a child.” His voice was so unexpectedly forceful that Sakura flinched involuntarily. Quickly realizing his error, Itachi sighed. “I just can’t lose you too, Sakura.”

Sakura stared at him as she tried to comprehend his quick switch in nature. Confusion and hurt danced in her eyes, but Itachi had to remain adamant as he maintained eye contact. “Promise me you’ll drop it.”

Sakura scowled at him and chose to focus on cleaning his wound, rather than answering him. She couldn’t promise that, not when there was a chance that Itachi could return home. But Itachi knew her too well, and clasped his hands around her own. “Sakura. Promise me right now.”

Why was he so unwilling to be happy? Sakura was certain that if Tsunade knew what had occurred with the Uchiha, Itachi would no longer be considered a criminal. He could come back to Konoha, get real treatments for his illness, live the life he deserved to. She wouldn’t have to hide him away. He wouldn’t have to sneak in and out of the village, risking his life in both Konoha and the Akastuki.

“Sakura.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze, bringing her back to the present. It was clear he wouldn’t let this go until she gave her word.

“I promise,” she said bitterly. He seemed content and pulled his hands away from hers. She continued to clean away at the blood in silence, painfully aware that his eyes were always on her now. Once she was content with her work, she looked him in the eyes. “Let me grab you some supplies. Be right back.”

She rummaged quickly through her kitchen drawers to find a makeshift first-aid kit and packed it with antibiotics, pain medication, bandages, and other minor things he may need. Itachi was stable, but she wanted to make sure he stayed that way. He was quick to forget about his own needs and Sakura did not need to see the wound infected the next time he visited her. With the bag packed, she finally spared a quick glance around her apartment.

It had smears of blood throughout it that would take a full day of cleaning to remove. It would probably be easier to get new furniture, but that amount of blood would raise questions to anyone who saw her throwing it away. She would just have to avoid having company over until she could figure that out. Not that she invited many people to her apartment, there was really just Team 7 and Ino.

Ino.

She cursed at her forgetfulness. Ino was probably on her way back from the store at this point. She quickly grabbed a pencil and paper and scrawled down a lame hospital emergency excuse and apology and stuck the paper to the outside door of her apartment.

Hopefully Ino would accept her fake excuse and take the beer as her apology without looking into it further. She grabbed the small bag and flicked off the living room light as she receded back into the bathroom again.

“You should stay the night, so I can watch for infection.” She tried to hide her anticipation as she sat down across from him with the bag in front of her. Her eyes gleamed with the small hope that he would accept her offer.

Itachi smiled sadly and affectionally tapped her forehead. “I need to get back. You know that it’s not safe for either of us if I stay here tonight”.

Sakura didn’t even try to hide her blatant disappointment. Or her fear.

“You could have died today, Itachi.”

“But you saved me. Like you always do.”

“I don’t always save you.” Sakura’s face flushed as she averted her eyes from his. She was once again at a loss for words. The Uchiha seemed to have that effect on her.

Itachi smirked and lifted Sakura’s chin up with his index finger to have her eyes meet his. “Your face is as pink as your hair, little bird,” he teased, making her cheeks burn brighter. This was the Itachi she remembered. He had finally returned to her, which only meant that he was about to leave again.

“I wish you could stay,” she whined half-heartedly. She knew it was hopeless. Once Itachi’s mind was made up, there was no changing it. But it was still worth a shot.

“As do I, Sakura. But it’s not safe-”

“For either of us.” she finished his sentence with an eye roll. “I know.”

He tenderly pushed back her hair from her face and caressed her cheek. “Hey,” he said gently, his voice just at a whisper. “It won’t always be like this, okay? I’ll find a way to make this place my home again.”

Sakura felt herself involuntarily leaning into Itachi’s touch and closed her eyes to savor the moment. She found herself wondering what he defined home as: was it in Konoha or with her? She deeply hoped that he meant the latter.

“You promise?” she questioned, unwilling to open her eyes to see his facial reactions. She didn’t want to know if it was a lie or not.

“I promise.” His voice was barely a whisper, much closer than when Sakura had closed her eyes. She felt his lips press against the center of her forehead and her eyes popped open in surprise. But only black feathers danced around her, Itachi was gone again. She grabbed a feather and clutched it to her chest, trying to ignore the ache that was already forming in her chest.

#so sorry for any typos #asks!#for karla #i was planning on having this short but my mind kinda got discombobulated along the way oops #matchamago original

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shasta-reese · 4 years

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Just a small ficlet?idk

I’ve never actually written any fanfic before but I’m gonna try. So this is gonna be set after 5x19 and after they beat Lex & Lillian, and just them having a little celebration of not dying after saving the world, Alex and Lena have a little chat. And I ultimately just want the characters to be happy, especially Lena (someone pls get her to a therapist). So here goes nothing.

-------

It’s after Lex has been put away for good this time. At least hopefully he stays in jail and not bribe a prison warden again but at the moment everyone is just glad to be alive with minor injuries. They’re all gathered in Kara’s apartment with food and drinks, just having an overall good time. Lena’s standing at the window alone, staring out into the city, grateful that the city was still standing. When she feels a presence beside her, she thinks it’s Kara but when the person speaks she’s surprised.

“Hey, Lena. You doing okay?” Alex asks, her voice soft within the room of chatter and laughter in the background. Lena hides her initial surprise and continues looking out the window when she responds.

“I’m...doing okay. Or as okay as I can be after this whole ordeal, but okay,” Lena takes a sip of her drink, “How ‘bout you? Are you okay?”

“Well, you would think we’d be use to these kind of things by now,” Alex says, facing the window mirroring Lena’s position. “But I guess it means we’re still human to feel something in the face of potential death, don’t you think?”

Lena sighs, “I was such a fucking idiot thinking I could change humanity, that I could remove and essential part of being human. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did.” How could she have been so idiotic? To not see through Lex, even after all his deceptions Lena still fell for his manipulation. Some genius she is, Lena thinks to herself.

Alex looks to Lena, her features soften, “You’re not completely to blame here Lena, yeah, you did some questionable things but Lex used and manipulated you. You were vulnerable and he took advantage of that. And you recognized that you fucked up and you’re owning up to that. Gotta give yourself some credit for that at least.” Lena finally turns to Alex, she could feel herself fighting her tears.

“I aided in the world almost ending again, first it was Rhea with the Daxamite Invasion and now with Leviathan and Lex. I just always let my emotions get the best of me and it results in catastrophe. And I guess it all blew up in my face all because I didn’t want other people to feel the pain that I felt. All because I got my feelings hurt. And now my actions will haunt me for the rest of my life.” Lena finishes, fingers fidgeting with the glass in her hands. Alex takes a moment to observe Lena, seeing the regret and pain in Lena’s eyes. Alex thinks to herself, God, what did this woman do to be put this through all of this?

“It’s not like I was the best person in this situation either, I kept telling myself that I was your friend too but I didn’t even reach out to you to check on you when Kara told you she was Supergirl. Not to mention I almost blew you up with Claymore, I am so sorry for that by the way. But none of us are blameless here,” Alex ensures Lena’s looking at her when she says all this to make sure Lena’s listening. “Your feelings are valid Lena, no matter if you think you over exaggerated or justified them, they are valid. This is long overdue but, I am sorry Lena for not being there for you like a friend should have. I know ‘sorry’ doesn’t fix everything but I’m hoping it’s a start.”

Lena freezes for a second, not expecting Alex to be the one apologizing. She quickly composes herself. “Thank you Alex, I really appreciate that. I know no amount of ‘I’m sorry’ can erase what I’ve done but I’m sorry for everything I’ve caused. And I hope that this is the start of fixing things too.” Lena ends, with a small hopeful smile, to which Alex reciprocates with her own.

“Good, that’s good. Now come here, you look like you need a long overdue hug.” Alex opens her arms waiting for Lena to step into them. Lena leans into Alex, hugging her tightly, Lena presses her head into Alex’s shoulder and muffles another “I’m sorry”. Alex holds her closer and whispers back “I know”.

When they part Lena wipes away a small tear that escaped and takes a deep breath, “Let’s go back to the party, shall we?”

Alex breathes out a content sigh, “Yeah, let’s go.” As they both turn back to the others and see that Nia and Kara are in the middle of seeing who can stuff more potstickers into their mouths, while J’onn and M’gann shake their heads fondly at them with smiles on their faces. Lena looks at the people around her, despite everything that’s happened they’re all still here. We’re gonna be okay, eventually.

We’re gonna be okay.

#supergirl #agentcorp brotp #lena luthor #alex danvers #kara danvers #not supercorp #maybe in the future #sorry for tagging supercorp even though its not #supercorp

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churchyardgrim · 3 years

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#2 from the d&d ask meme? it is a fantastic question

before they met their party, what was their main goal?

oooo excellent opportunity to plug my boy’s four page backstory that i just realized i never posted here!

tldr Silas wants to study a perfect immortal in order to defeat death, bc death insulted him once and he never got over it hghdfg

Silas Edelhart has a problem. That problem is death.

He was born to minor nobility, old money making use of their hereditary ambition to generate new money on the merchant routes, and he was lucky enough to not be his father’s preferred heir; he was allowed to take to academia, or else join some priesthood and curry favor with the lesser sons of other noble houses. He chose academia.

He was enamored with it. The libraries! The minds to learn from. The men. The women! The men. The only disappointment was that apprentice physicians did not get invited to many parties, something Silas was hard at work remedying when he was presented with an unwittingly significant patient.

A farm hand from outside the city had been delayed in reaching them for medical care, and his injuries - an accident with a plow, they were told - had gone gangrenous. He was insensible with fever, and would have lost the leg even if his people hadn't taken so long in getting him to the medics; as it was, despite amputation and efficient treatment for blood poisoning, he expired overnight, in Silas's care.

Silas was crushed. He had done everything right, double and triple checked his protocols, and still the man had died. “No one blames you, of course,” one of the senior physicians said to him, “these things simply happen.”

Maybe they ‘simply happened’ to other people, Silas thought bitterly, but he was better than that. He had decided the man would live, and his performance had been flawless! The terminity of a mere natural law to stand in the way of his will was intolerable. Incensed, Silas threw himself at his studies, dead set that it should never happen again.

Resurrection magic wasn't what he was after initially; he only wanted to keep the living where they were. But he found quickly that the popular consensus was that healing magic could only do so much, and most simply accepted its failures as they did any other misfortune. So he hunted out spells to wrench the dead back, hidden and fragmented in books his instructors only grudgingly let him read. Time would tell if they would be enough, however; none of the accounts of their use he had read gave any indication of the effects being permanent. It would be so embarrassing, to put so much work into defying death only to have his prize killed in a careless accident! He would not settle for anything less than complete immunity from death.

His practice only pushed him deeper into this conviction; plenty of his patients lived, much improved from treatment, but a few still died despite his efforts, reigniting his rage at death every time. He began to get a reputation for it, and some of his peers started tactfully funneling away those patients that seemed likely to die with or without medical care, to spare themselves his rants. Many of them thought his anger came from an insult to his skills, but this was all wrong; he knew his skills were exceptional, the failure was not his.

It is the gods’ fault, Silas decided. The gods had set this wretched law in place, to kettle and humble mortal creatures. But... no, the gods themselves are yet subject to death, have died in scores. So, death is a greater power than even them.

But in one book, ill-used and forgotten, Silas found mention of a god returning from death. A resurrection on a divine scale. And once that possibility had revealed itself, the hints between the lines of other books made themselves apparent; someone had performed that resurrection, exercised mastery over death in such a way that it left Silas’s mouth watering. How? How had it been done?

The next few months of frantic research and evasion - the concern from his tutors was enough to warn him that no one wanted him to go looking for this - led him eventually into the university’s vaults. To a broken-legged construct, dormant, containing a withered, desiccated hand. Not the hand of the godly resurrectionist, no, but the hand of someone who, certain books implied, might have been a devotee of that individual. A relic of a necromantic saint.

Silas stole it, of course he did. Made use of a debt owed by an engineer of the local guilds to repair the construct housing, and treated it as a treasured prize. Such mysteries, opening to him now with the artifact’s communion; he graduated quickly from books to practice, retreating into his own rooms to make frogs twitch and test ancient ideas on the animation of flesh. He took on fewer and fewer patients, withdrew from the society of his peers… for the most part.

Sera Mournleaf was brilliant. Sera Mournleaf was intense. And some days, Sera Mournleaf was the only thing that could distract him from his work. An elf with connections, she did him many favors in getting him subjects to work on, meat with which to test his theories, and had an insightful and sparkling mind with which to discuss the less publicly acceptable aspects of spitting in the face of death. So what if she stayed up later than him some nights, reading and rereading his notes. So what if every time she visited her aging human father she came back slumping with worry. He cannot expect things to be about him all the time!

Besides, he had little focus to spare for things not his research, now. He had been forced to take up the shovel himself, more than once, to find fresh bodies that would be more difficult to trace back to him - they keep a close eye on the university morgue, he learned better than to try that more than once. And he had had no small success, stripping corpses of their unnecessaries and stitching the most promising parts to one another, speaking to his prized relic with equal parts demand and prayer.

The results infuriated him at first. Lurching, wretched things, no better than flesh constructs, most of them had to be destroyed; that shriveled hand granted Silas holy fire as easily as it had clues to the resurrectionist arts. But he persisted, and grew to view them as necessary stepping stones towards a greater perfection. He grew more bold, more reckless, and felt himself forever on the verge of a cataclysmic revelation.

It was not to be. He was found out. The right word in the right ear brought the law crashing down on his shoulders, and he watched them burn his experiments with a guardsman kneeling on his back. It was broken, all of it, his research carted away in boxes (fewer boxes, maybe, then he thought there should have been), and Silas himself thrown in prison to scream his rage at the uncaring stone.

The trial was a farce. Somehow, Silas's family managed to find reason enough to pull half the lawyers in the city to his defense, while at the same time making it very clear that under no circumstances was he to darken their doorstep ever again. In the same two hour span his prospects went from life imprisonment to a mere slap on the wrist of exile, and then summarily informed that he had been neatly removed from the last will and testament of his every living family member. It was a very trying day.

At the end of it he was stripped of his qualifications, most of his wealth confiscated, and ejected from the city with his mouth sewn shut with wire; an archaic punishment for heresy, invoked here merely as sorry consolation on the part of the law that they couldn’t execute him outright. In the proper spirit of the thing, he should have left the stitches in place and let himself starve, and in deference to the bare truth of his crimes Silas endured it for three days before getting sick of the whole thing and cutting himself loose.

He had managed to keep his precious relic in its construct housing, the only thing worth bribing a minor official to sneak out of evidence lockup, and he quickly put distance between himself and wretched Misthaven, thinking nothing but bitter thoughts towards his betrayer. Selfish, horrible Sera; she had gotten cold feet, most likely. Come over all moral about what he had been doing, let slip to the magistrate that perhaps she knew who had been plundering the city's burial grounds at night. Well! She will just have to wait and see, won't she. Wait until he can begin his work again, reach as yet unseen heights of resurrection. Then he would return to Misthaven and enact some fitting revenge, on her and all those who had a hand in ruining him.

(Miss Mournleaf could have argued, the better part of a year later, that his unwitting parting gift was revenge enough. Babies scream like they’re being murdered, and the damn thing looks just like him. She left it with the nuns and got on with the business of saving her father.)

And so he wandered, working as a physician in small towns and middling cities, trying his damndest to reestablish his research in some capacity. But his funds never stretched that far, and neither did the patience of his neighbors; more than once he had to flee under cover of night, for misdeeds real or imagined. Most of these were unmemorable affairs, and only irritated him. Once, the mercenary paid to kill him proved a delightful match, in combat and energy, and the man made an affair of running away with Silas, and Silas ended up growing remarkably fond of Cassian Hellier, for all his unrefined brutishness. They still keep in touch, whenever either of them is in civilization long enough to hire a messenger to carry letters.

A decade passed in this fashion before Silas began to hear rumors. Travelers between worlds, fading in and out of unearthly mist, serving a genuine immortal. He seized upon these threads, passion alight again; a near perfect undead, far superior to the wretched things he had managed to raise back in Misthaven, yes. He would follow the travelers, seek out their master, see what, if anything, of the rumors were true. If they are... he would study, and learn, and replicate the results. And if not? Well, the corpse of even a lesser undead would be a beautiful thing.

#dnd #silas #boyo's a death cleric/graveyard rogue and i LOVE HIM #Anonymous

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thesalemsaga · 4 years

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𝟳 — 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝘁𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗻

— 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 7.7k words

𝙨 : after losing their ship, it has become obvious the journey they’re due to continue will be a tough one. however, they come across merchants, people beyond the walls, and find themselves hunting a creature that apparently stole their precious trade.

“ does anyone have some water they can spare? ”.

the only stroke of luck they had that night was that they would not have to tread through a desert. it still didn’t take away from the fact that they were short on resources, some of which were still in the ship and they didn’t bother to recover them. they were short on water, short on food, and when night began to fall on them, found themselves short on shelter.

truth be told, they had been walking for hours ever since the incident. they might have lost their means of transport but they all still had feet to carry them forward, and after a full hour of getting kailen back on his feet and finding their means of direction, they finally began to travel north east like they intended.

seren was knackered. years of training had never prepared her for hiking for at least four hours, without a break, mind you. the temperatures were cool, they didn’t have to deal with heatstroke but her feet were aching and her muscles were tense, not to mention that she was too shy to request some treatment from alexander. she could carry on!

above them, the heavens had darkened, clouds had pooled, and the winds became colder. kailen was still struggling to tread on despite the spells alexander put on him. the doses, as you could call it, had to be weak in order for the male to be healing whilst awake. if alexander did a full spell, it would send kailen to sleep, and nobody, except for evangelos, was willing to carry the boy.

their surroundings had moved from a rocky bay to a solid, grassy path, encountering a few meadows and streams and based on how romeo was smacking his arm and complaining about mosquitoes, they would soon be entering the tropics that kailen foresaw.

“ alright, let’s stop here for tonight. ”

seren groaned and collapsed onto her knees before she could ever look around her. their path had become slim, a path in between large rock structures that either belonged to temples or were meant to hold some sort of symbolism to the old world. regardless, they provided cover in the case of rain, and protected them from any watchful eyes from above when they lit their fire.

evangelos had been cradling firewood in his arms for a while, so when seren caught sight of the splinters on his forearms after he put them down, she frowned. he could have shared some of that burden with her, she wasn’t exactly the strongest but it would mean he wouldn’t be hurt.

setting up camp was rather easy. they mostly sought out grassy grounds so they didn’t have to lay on rocky surfaces. they removed most of their heavier clothes like the cloaks and jackets to be their ‘sleeping bags’, and whilst evangelos and alexander worked on the fire, seren approached kailen with a level of concern. “ if you’re going to ask whether i’m okay again ”, he began with an amused tone.

the swordsman knelt in front of him and smiled delicately. “ of course i’m going to ask you whether you’re okay. you’ve been struggling to stay awake for four hours. i just hope you rest well tonight ”, she said, thoughts drawing back to the moment where she was certain she was never going to see kailen again.

it was not the first time she saw the dead in front of her, yet the most horrifying detail about the issue was that she saw the color draining from his skin, the blueness on his lips and how lifeless he was. it was a horrid image she was most likely never going to get out of her head.

“ i’ll sleep like a rock, definitely. with a fire and maybe with a belly full of . . . cereal bars, bread and water ”, he laughed and sighed, resting back against his cloth bed and paid the girl another smile. “ i never got to thank you for saving my life. how rude of me. ”

seren shook her head furiously, “ i was only doing my duty as your teammate. i was just faster than the others. and i wasn’t going to let you die. ”

it’s not something someone can easily comprehend, staring down at a friend whose life is slowly draining away, dying breaths escaping from their lips in seconds and feeling powerless to stop death from yanking their soul from their body. it hit her hard because she had looked upon the body of someone she couldn’t save, and when the opportunity came, she didn’t hesitate the save the life of someone whose time wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

kailen had a lot to look forward to beyond the mission, seren was no soothsayer yet she could easily tell you that his time hadn’t come. saving his life didn’t give her a self-esteem boost even if it should, it just made her regret leaving him in the grasp of danger to begin with.

seren glanced back when a faint crackling came from behind her. the campfire they had made was small, but the heat was enough for her to shiver and for the tiredness to come creeping up her skin. the girl ultimately stood back up and turned to her backpack, where she took out her dinner for the night.

bread and water.

but at least it was milk bread!

settling down to eat, she observed the group of boys and how they went about settling in for the night. kailen had fallen fast asleep as soon as he finished eating, alexander putting a jacket over him before turning to his book. romeo was having a tender discussion with evangelos about guns. immediately, seren began to look around for the missing perseus.

she tried not to jump when she heard a minor grunt beside her, with perseus taking a seat beside her and flashing her a small smile. “ you look seriously tired, how are you still awake? ”, he questioned.

was it obvious? the warmth from the campfire was causing every muscle in her body to pause and rest after hours of exercising them profusely. she had begun to unwind and hadn’t even noticed it until her blinks became longer and her head started to nod off.

yet a part of her remained restless. she couldn’t exactly sleep when there were many things ahead of them, and seren was definitely the type of person to have a mental breakdown at midnight for no particular reason.

it was salem keeping her up. it was kailen’s injury keeping her up. it was the fear that they would encounter something bad tomorrow keeping her up. yet her body fought violently for rest, and as the others began to lay down, she and perseus were the only ones still sitting up.

seren’s head fell on his shoulder in an instant, drawing a long sigh from her lips. “ a lot of things. mainly the issue with kailen, but also the plans of the adventure as a whole. we got the fuel but what use is it if we don’t have a ship to go with it? ”, the matter remained rhetorical. being beside perseus was making her feel warmer, and as a result, sleepier.

and by the looks of things, with the way his body grew limp and how his breathing had drawn to a steady and drawn out sound, he wasn’t doing any better than her at remaining awake. why did she feel the need to lean against him suddenly? she certainly did not regret the decision. his voice also soothed some of the doubts and worries she continued to have in the dead of night.

“ if all that’s happened up until now has happened, well, i firmly believe it was supposed to. maybe this is a good wake up call for us. ditching the ship was on the plan anyway. we just didn’t know when “, the artist insisted on seeing things with a positive light. seren envied him. not even a self-proclaimed optimist like herself could do it. all she knew, based on this small conversation, was that perseus ursa did wonders to the soul.

nonetheless, seren withdrew her head from his shoulder in fear of burdening him. but turned it ever so slightly to face him, to admire his features under moonlight, to study his condition and figure out a way to send him to sleep. he was half way through and needed a small push. “ can i ask you a question? “, he spoke suddenly, meeting her gaze.

“ sure “. seren stretched her legs out against the ground and hunched forward slightly.

“ your hair . . . is it naturally like that? “.

natural pink hair? his naivety brought a giggle to build in her throat. she would like it to be true, her pink hair had been her favorite color since she was first ever allowed to mingle with hair dye. after going blonde and brunette, she settled with this waterfall of cotton candy. it drew too much attention, something she sought out purposefully. it’s difficult to be a person who wishes to be admired, only to receive little to none of it. maybe her hair could get her some recognition since her attempts of befriending people doesn’t do the trick.

in response to his question, seren chuckled and shook her head. “ i’d like it to be. but no, i’m afraid it’s not. i dye my hair for the sake of sparing my father from looking at me and being reminded of my mother “, she didn’t wish to open up to anyone about her family. but perseus was not one to judge, as it appeared to her. he could carry a secret. “ i’m an exact replica of her. “

“ do you have a picture? “.

indeed she did. her father knew little to nothing about the things she kept surrounding her mother, he was only aware of the sword she carried. but edged into her tiny purse which she carried everywhere, was a minute photograph. marks of folds cursed the corners despite her best attempts at keeping it flat, but the quality of the picture remained relatively the same. you could thank the woman in it for that.

because even as she pulled the photo out and placed it into perseus’s capable hands, seren was smitten by the woman smiling on it.

orange locks curled and drooping over bare, fair shoulders stained with some freckles. cheeks round and pink, also met with the familiar markings that seren was lucky to inherit, although not in the same amount. the eyes are the windows to the soul, and her mother’s was green; adventurous, wild, free. her expression was settled between a pout and a smile, a cheeky one at that. how old was she in this picture, seventeen? it’s easy to say that she was gorgeous inside and out from the moment she was born, and that beauty thrived when she became a woman.

did she charm perseus just like she did with nearly anyone lucky enough to catch sight of her? through the way he viewed the photo, his lips apart, perhaps she had worked her magic. and that brought a grin from her daughter.

“ i thought you almost gave me a picture of yourself “, he said after a couple moments of silence. seren lingered beside him, admiring the art piece within his fingers along with him. he turned his head and paid her a long glance. “ you’ve got orange hair, then. “

the dreamy tone which dripped from those words were enough to make the girl blush, for the first time in a while.

there was still a lot she wanted to say. the presence of a moral soul beside her brought an overwhelming surge of feelings of sensitivity. she wanted to speak up about how her father crumbled when her mother had enough. she wanted to muse about the gaping hole in her chest at the loss of a sibling. she wished to pour her heart out to sweet perseus in hopes he could present her some guidance. but that would be a burden, would it not? she couldn’t begin to comprehend what he felt, being away from home, from family, thrown into a strange environment that he couldn’t have ever dreamt of.

she would simply have to carry those burdens for a little longer, until she could dump it when she reached her limit.

“ well, considering we’re far from home, i suppose i’ll be seeing that natural hair “, perseus said just as he sunk his fingers into her locks and then flicked them, watching as they settled down her back like a downpour of pink. could he do that again? that felt lovely. “ you know, despite what you say, i reckon your old man would be happy to see you as you naturally are . . . do you cover your freckles with make up? “.

seren’s head fell. guilty.

there was a time, early into the days where her mother decided to leave, where seren began to despise the girl in the mirror. she despised the orange hair, the freckles that coated the back of her hands and her cheek bones. she was a replica of the woman she hated, until of course she began to understand why her mother took her leave to begin with. yet it became a habit, to cover those markings in worry of upsetting the one hurt by it all the most; her dear father.

it was an incredible need to rid herself from any burdens, because if she didn’t do it now, perhaps she would become one as the journey progressed. seren was useless when her head was heavy.

“ i won’t cover them anymore. “

“ good. “

perseus grunted whilst lifting himself up, grasping his rags and bag. he was probably heading off to bed, and seren ought to do the same. yet she couldn’t put her kind to rest just yet, she wanted to ensure everyone was sleeping before she could do the same. it was just a habit, wanting to see them asleep or composed before she could lay down herself.

after seeing perseus settle down a few steps away from evan, the swordsman stood up with her own frail legs and tread around. kailen was knocked out at this point, sleeping deeply that not even her footsteps could wake him. alexander seemed to be out cold, his book placed over his face. romeo and evan, too, settling in for the night and cutting their conversation short. and perseus dozed off slowly only moments after settling down. from her observation, all these exhausted ‘pups’ had nestled in. this meant she could sleep with some liberty.

what seren first noticed about her surroundings, was the sky above her. star dusted, clusters of lights engulfing a sea o black behind them like a painted canvas. she would only see these sights from her balcony back home, and now she could see them for what they were in this cloudless night. and she couldn’t miss the crescent moon smiling down upon them, glowing faintly like her sisters that flicked to her as if to bask in her beauty; truly the prettiest moon of all.

what would tomorrow bring them? would they be sleeping under the stars again? would there be a roof above her tomorrow? how many nights would she sleep for until she got to salem?

questions that would be answered within the passing of time, nature’s enemy and ally. time that would bring the morning to them soon; and with that thought in mind, seren could almost put her mind to rest, craning her head to the side and settling under her cape serving as her only blanket. they were safe here, she hoped.

time skip . . .

they were up early the next morning, and seren was struggled to move an inch of a muscle.

truth be told, she felt like she had been smashed between two boulders repeatedly, her legs were equivalent to jelly and she couldn’t even think to take her sword out in case of an impending attack. everything hurt, but what aches her more was the thought that there was more to tread ahead, thousands of steps to be taken before she could think of growing proximate to salem.

kailen said they needed to keep heading north east if they wished to reach the rainforests of the peninsula. the idea of a dense landscape of damp trees and running streams put her mind at rest, but not completely; what gnawed was a slight trepidation directed to the wild.

animals. wild ones, ones you wouldn’t think would exist until you set your feet into the real world and saw it for yourself. it was a worry that she shared with the first person who she thought looked awake. and that was romeo. he was also the gunner who knew of animals.

“ so, you’re asking me what kind of animals we’d find in a rainforest? “.

seren pouted, now she felt like an idiot.

romeo hummed and adjusted the straps of his gun hanging from his back. “ that’s a tough question, seren. but what i can tell you is that there are a lot. usually tame ones like monkeys. there are quite a lot of predators, though; crocodiles, big cats, snakes. “

“ and what’s the chance of us running into one of these predators? “, she was sure it was pretty much a hundred percent.

“ i’m bad at math but i can tell you; a lot. “

yup, she guessed right.

yet it didn’t bother her as much as it should. animals with a note of fear in their body would know better than to advance on a big group of intelligent mammals who are also armed. but she remained suspicious of the animals that weren’t on national geographic documentaries, the ones belonging to ancient tomes collecting dust down in the private portion of the valhalla library.

mythical beasts. romeo had failed to mention the chance of a run-in with them. and maybe it was for the better.

throughout their pacing, they traversed miles and miles on foot through dips between cliffs, following a path of savannah and a dry wind that just grew warmer as time went on. her throat was starting to ache, but she was far too timid to ask evan for water when kailen needed it the most. he still looked as pale as yesterday, hence why they made more stops than before. seren held gratitude for alexander in that prospect, he was the one timing and leading the way, and was more merciful than evan who wanted to carry on until they ran into something.

what she can tell you, though, was that small dips of water were scattered around as they progressed, with palm trees growing taller and bushes growing denser and the sound of water running growing louder. it even allowed for a chill gust of wind to blow against her face, and by god, was it the most refreshing feeling. never would seren believe that there would be an oasis in these parts, up until now.

as the sixth hour of their walk rolled in, perseus took note of something that brought their steps to a slight halt.

“ look up. “

half expecting there to be a military ship floating above them, seren went to grasp her weapon. but lowered her hand in an instant once the tone of perseus’s command dawned on her. the sky, which had previously been blue and raging with the sun’s blaring heat, now grew grey, clouds swarming to hide the yellow face teasing the melting youths below.

cloudy and dense skies; that can only mean one thing. they were getting closer.

the group grew closer to what seemed to be the final oasis in their path, this only half an hour after they stopped in the last one, which the swordsman could see in the distance by throwing her gaze back. had they really gotten this far? it felt like they were still back at the start, just seconds from seeing their ship being dragged into the ocean. and if not due to their quick thinking, their team mate would’ve gone down as well.

“ uhm, guys . . . what’s that? “.

ripping her gaze away from the plains behind her, she saw romeo pointing out towards the path they’d been following. there, right at the end, she spotted what appeared to be a cart that had been toppled over, vibrant in color and most importantly, swarming with what seemed to be people.

yes. people.

suddenly, salem became the last of her concerns.

what perseus had said just yesterday was a possibility she rendered as unlikely. she didn’t want to gamble but seren’s bet of seeing humans beyond the walls was set on being an absolute zero. nothing. she was set on seeing animals and wild beasts that had crawled out of the pits of hell when magic awakened, and seeing people . . . it rendered her immobile for a stretch of many seconds until she heard evan unsheathe his weapon. “ evan— “.

“ isn’t it weird that the first people we run in just so happen to be lost merchants gathering around a toppled car? “.

he was suspicious, that was a given but seren couldn’t bring herself to feel the same. in fact, her mind was entirely settled in reaching out and checking if these travelers needed help of some sort.

and thankfully, in the most fucked up sense, help was definitely going to be needed when a woman let out an ear piercing scream, following by the scattering of the group running off in all directions.

what was she going to do, sit there and watch the danger unfold just like she did at the academy? seren was the first to take off running, followed swiftly by evan.

when she group took off running in various directions, seren took notice of the sort of people they were. men and women and children of all ages, and when her eyes came across that of a child no younger than eight who was crying out for help, she had to use her semblance, despite being a shift away from collapsing.

a snarl erupted behind her just when her arms caught the child, followed by the click and push of evan’s gauntlets and a shot gun behind fired. she didn’t dare look, in case she saw something that would stop her from getting this child to safety. upon shifting again, seren found herself standing some metres away from the fallen cart, buried within tall grass with a small boy in her arms.

why wasn’t she fighting? that was what she was trained for, she could’ve grasped her sword and done something, helped her teammates, but her mind froze, going in a loop of painful memories that led to those nerves being pulled. she basically grasped the boy out of danger like a reflect action, and couldn’t help but sense embarrassment at that.

just as she was about to glance down at this tiny figure and ask him whether he was okay, a shadow began to loom over her, and seren was fortunate to roll away just seconds before a corpse to a creature landed just where she had been laying.

scales, talons, claws. a reptilian creature of some sort that carried a repugnant smell that went to the back of her brain.

“ seren! are you alright?! “.

kailen’s cry reached her seconds later, he peeked at her from behind the cart and rushed over, observing the creature and pulling out an arrow that had been etched in its neck, seren shuddered at the sound of shifting glands and skin. “ y-yeah, fine “, she replied and sat up.

the boy she had managed to rescue was trembling in her arms. he had just barely managed to tuck his face within the crane of her neck where he cried and cried, and although it seemed to gain a shudder from kailen, seren didn’t mind. she had to deal with this at some point, with another child drooling and sobbing and fussing. she felt almost thankful that there was no repetition of those actions in that moment.

it ran through her mind that perhaps this boy didn’t speak the same language as them, that maybe the people beyond the walls had adapted something of their own, so communicating through words was not an option for the time being. she only shushed him softly and patted his back, glancing at kailen and furrowing her brows. “ where are the other merchants? “, she quizzed.

“ we’re rounding them up. i think the mom is looking for the kid ”. and with that being sad, seren decided to let him go. it took a couple of seconds, for the boy was clinging hard to her and struggling to contain his tears.

it was just for a moment, but seren was able to look into the kid’s eyes. and saw familiar fear. shock. rightfully so. but he seemed to be totally unaware that he could’ve been squashed in between the cart and the ground, and he only continued to cry out for his mom when her voice called out for him in the wind. at that, seren picked her up, and dusted her grimy uniform.

after paying a small glance to kailen, she went to where alexander appeared to be healing a man’s knee that was deeply cut after the run-in with the creature, that still went unnamed and unnoticed. was it only her that was incredibly worried by it, perturbed that something this vicious would be out in the plains when the rainforest was a couple miles away? clearly not, since romeo rushed over to investigate what it was.

“ there’s more of them. ”

it was relief that washed over seren when a man’s voice reached her ears, in a language she could definitely understand.

upon looking, she saw him sat on the ground, dirt and grime coating his face as a young woman pressed a damp towel to his cheek and nose. seren tried not to take notice of the blood, only of what he had said. “ more? w-where did you see them, if you don’t mind me asking? ”, her tone slowed in something caring.

“ down by the forest ”, the woman beside him replied, accent heavy. she clenched her jaw and nodded in the direction of the path they would’ve continued to follow had this accident not interrupted them. “ we were coming out of there and heard some noises. we didn’t think anything of it at first, until something jumped on top of our wagon. we managed to kill one, and the rest ran off. ”

“ with our stuff, no less. ”

seren heard steps shift behind her and turned, seeing perseus giving her a sympathetic smile and then returning his attention to the bleeding man and the woman who continued to nurse him. “ you’re merchants, i figured. but these creatures seemed to hold bad intentions. and they’re intelligent. what did they take? ”.

the injured man grunted, “ just about everything of value. we were going to sell some of it down in the market in the south. a week’s journey. but they took all our silk and gold, and our food. we have kids traveling with us, we can’t let them starve. and the animals . . . we don’t know if they’re safe to hunt. ”

if she could cast her memory far enough, seren could recall a lesson she had with doctor oz. he was a brilliant man who knew of animals in a way that not many did. he was infatuated with studying them, and he once proposed an idea that gathered some laughs. until now.

the idea was simple; that through the course of salem’s reign, animals were being affected the most. normal animals, animals you’d find to be a native of anime landscape. they were consumed by this sort of nervous tick and anger targeted towards humans, something he had observed when he was allowed out to tuscany. when he’d managed to kill a bird, he examined it. and it was rotten from the inside.

of course, you wouldn’t really be able to tell with sight and touch alone. and that was why he figured that even animals which had survived ragnarok, were becoming a threat to humans.

a kid could some part of an animal body for dinner and then never wake up the next morning due to failing organs. the thought alone made seren sick, which led to her eventual conclusion.

they were going to get those items back.

“ absolutely not. ”

“ don’t be an ass, evan. ”

of course, when she brought the idea forth to her team-mates, the reactions were mixed. but her concern was on the merchants. the fact that they’d come across humans beyond the walls no longer really stunned her, the feeling of excitement and curiosity faded the moment she realized she could be responsible for their deaths if she didn’t try to help them in some way.

maybe she was just being far too naive, too much of a pacifist for her own good. but ever since the fall of valhalla, there was a thought gnawing at the back of her mind telling her something rather simple.

even if you didn’t cause the harm, you will bring more at the refusal of helping.

“ we don’t know them ”, evan put it simply. “ our time is short, our resources are short. if we agree to this, we could be delaying our journal for a good couple of days and we’re already running low on resources. we could be putting the very nature of our journey in jeopardy at the sake of helping these people. ”

seren disliked seeing the wavering expressions, the hisses between teeth and the tuts. why wasn’t anyone immediately jumping in to counter evan? why? why?! had they not learned anything about valhalla?!

at that point, seren didn’t care for the majority. this time, she turned on her heel and began to make haste down the path they’d been treading towards to begin with and it didn’t take long before romeo was calling after quickly, rushing to catch up. “ woah, woah! seren, you can’t just go alone! ”.

“ if you arrogant idiots aren’t gonna move your asses, then i’ll move mine! ”.

maybe she wasn’t thinking right. maybe this was a bad idea, heading in alone. what if she was swarmed by a number of those monsters? but she couldn’t just continue on with her adventure when that boy’s face was imprinted in the back of her mind as a reminder that they weren’t just here to complete one goal and leave. this was a journey that would test their training, and perhaps valhalla hadn’t taught her about sympathy and being the hero for the people but small conversations with her father had.

he would be disappointed if she turned a blind eye, and that’s why she progressed.

so despite feeling ill after smacking romeo’s hand away, seren turned to look back just once to see if anyone would join her, anyone with just a little bit of courage left. and no one moved an inch. that broke her heart in half.

but it didn’t stop her from going by herself.

after the first few steps alone, seren began to feel a little certain that her lone adventure would end well. they could wait behind her and she could bring the stolen goods back to the merchants and they would be on their way. most importantly, the travelers would be content and healthy enough to get to safety and that was all she wanted.

her only concern was that night would fall and she was useless in the dark. her semblance may be speed but she could very much run face-first into a tree trunk if encountered with an enemy. not to worry, though! with her semblance, she would make it back in no time.

time skip . . .

the only rainforest she’s seen before is the one in the valhalla atlas, and it was nothing like the one she was currently going through.

through the gaps between the dense trees dancing above her, seren could count the remaining hours of daylight, and it only added to her worries. it was hot, humid enough for her to have to remove her coat and shove it into her bag if she had any hope of surviving through this intense environment.

every bush she brushed against, she would shudder at. it was the impending fear that she could fall into thorns and blind herself or just badly hurt her already aching body. she regretted not staying behind to see if someone would join her, but it just gave her a form of entertainment; grumbling about boys.

“ i have to everything myself ”, the pink-haired girl mumbled, smacking her rapier against another couple of bushes with a sense of irritation that was digging into every nerve in her breathing body. she still couldn’t believe the audacity of those boys standing there, claiming themselves to be self-righteous heroes, liberators of the empire, when they couldn’t even help a group of troubled, stranded merchants.

yes, she did want to agree with evan’s claim. they were limited on time, having to reach their enemy before she can launch a predicted attack on the island of crete and eradicating every possibility of humanity re-constructing itself. but that doesn’t mean a good deed along the way is going to be a heavy burden on them. so as much as she understood, she couldn’t agree with the notion.

which brought her further confusion on how all of them had agreed to stay behind.

well, her only option was to put it behind her. her skirt was covered in mud and soot and she was tempted on removing it and walking around only in her cycling shorts that she always wore beneath. it wasn’t going to do any harm.

whilst she was pacing through this endless jungle, that was soon losing its sense of tropicalness and began to soon resemble a normal forests. the sound of birds singing soon reached her ears, the rushing of streams grew quieter and her steps were replaced by the crunching of leaves and pebbles being kicked as opposed to mud. she wondered, if she looked in the mirror right now, would she be able to recognize herself?

nonetheless, the grounds were becoming far more plain, and she didn’t nearly twist her ankle every time she walked on. seren was beginning to grow thankful for this lonesome adventure, her ears could use a break from hearing those boys bickering. albeit annoying, she did feel prone to danger without that light-hearted heckling.

it felt . . . dangerous.

and without kailen’s watchful eyes on her back and romeo flinching at any odd sounds his sensitive ears could pick up, seren felt more open for an attack than ever. and it could come at any moment, but until now, she had to worry about the stolen goods tan she did about whatever creature from before attacking her now.

and as luck would have it, she would not have to wait for long. at least five minutes after entering a new section of the forest, where she could see the blue sky above her, seren spotted something on the ground that twinkled under the sun’s grace. a golden coin, a currency that she immediately referred back to the merchants.

she crouched and picked it with delicacy, brushing the bits of dirt covering it and squinting to see whether she could recognize the symbol. she couldn’t.

knowing nothing of the civilizations beyond the walls, she most definitely didn’t expect them to develop their own currency when so much was at stake. and it goes to say that the human race will always find a way to survive. and she allowed them to put her mind at ease, if only for a second.

seconds after placing the coin into her pouch, seren heard a clatter. followed by a grunt. and footsteps. and another grunt. all coming from a couple of trees ahead of her, so the swordsman immediately crouched and rolled behind a wide tree to hide her body.

upon peeking, it was quite hard not to gasp audibly at what she had managed to see.

the goods. she could see every fruit, bread, and drink tucked in large sacks that were behind heavily guarded. and how does she know that? well, for the two giant animals circling it and staring off into vacant spaces of the forest, shifting their sharp gazes in short seconds and snarling at anything that moved.

it was the same monsters that had attacked the wagon back in the dirt road and seren was only a couple of feet away from them. she didn’t get to see how the first one attacked, how it moved, whether it was fast or slow or had some sort of wicked power building up in its lungs. she’s never felt this scared of an encounter before.

now, her chances of taking them both out quickly was low. she wasn’t a sneaky attacker, she came in head-strong like most swordsmen with her style. this is why she needed someone relying on stealth on the team . . . this is why she really needed the team!

her heart began to palpitate when one of the monsters suddenly shifted its gaze to the tree she stood behind and she only managed to hide a millisecond later but perhaps that was too late. with her breathing starting to grow erratic, and steps growing close, seren didn’t know what to do. for the first time in forever, the mind she relied so much on did not cooperate with her when she was seconds away from being eaten by a lion-and-goat-headed, snake-tailed, winged beast.

but she could hide.

through the shift up the tree, seren looked down through thick branches at the monster now looking around the tree. it could smell something off, she knew, and if she so much as breathed too loudly, it would hear her. and it could pounce, fly, and reduce her to shreds.

her eyes were hot with tears, one snap of a tree branch and she would be falling into the beast’s mouth. that would be her life, over. salem alive and destroying the world. her father in danger. her friends lost in the middle of nowhere with no means of re-tracing their steps. why couldn’t her stubborn, passive butt just stayed back there?!

a roar rang, and seren’s heart stopped.

in those lingering moments, she saw her soul leave her body only to be sucked back in by another roar, a cry of pain from the beasts below that seemed to have diverted their attention to something, or someone, moving so quickly that she could hardly keep up.

“ seren! ”.

that was perseus calling her name, and seren mistook it for an angel welcoming her into the afterlife. her weak legs barely managed to stand among those branches as she peeked and saw kailen’s arrows shoot by in a trail of flashes that left her blinded. evan’s gauntlets started glowing again, and at that point, she had to look away.

her mind was racing with what could’ve been that suddenly shift of a shadow she saw moving in between those beasts before the boys came in to help. it was still down there, weaving in between shadows, waiting, and then launching into another attack, cutting a limb and rushing back into an abyss casted by trees.

the only thing she heard next was alexander screaming romeo’s name and then a shot being fired, followed by a roar, followed by silence.

in the trees, seren trembled. shocked to the core, tears at the verge of spilling over the edge just like it did the night valhalla fell. yet again, she had chickened out. she had avoided danger for the sake of saving her own skin rather than diving into action and being the hero she always wanted to be. she just waited, for the sound of death, and prayed for god to send an angel. and that he did. but how many would he send every time seren decided to be the world’s greatest coward?

seconds of silence continued, and her body finally went limp.

with a hiss, she felt her right arm slam against a branch on her way down and she held her breath, waiting for that long awaited fall which she wished would be her wake-up call. maybe by fucking her head up, she could actually start being useful when she was back on her feet.

but no impact came, unless if you count be caught as one. personally, seren felt as if she had landed within a pool of feathers, her head recoiled forward when she dared to slip into the darkness as her eyes fell closed. but then snapped back open and found herself being held, arms encasing her body in an almost bridal fashion. it took her many moments to recognized that these arms did not belong to any of the fellow men joining her adventure.

as her arm throbbed in pain, her head followed as she turned it and looked upon an unfamiliar face. it looked far too unbothered for her to see it as the knight in shining armor, a pair of cat-like eyes staring into her own which invoked a shudder of fear.

small, pouted lips. fair skin. feline eyes with a scar running down the right. slicked black hair. she recognized this man as the one who had landed the first blow on the chimeras that had nearly brought her at death’s door.

and now she was in his arm and she’s never felt more awkward in her life.

“ i was expecting a thank you, but . . . ”.

taken aback by his voice, seren found herself being placed back safely on the ground and a fraction of a second later, was yanked back into romeo’s arms as he squeezed her into a hug. it was the first time she’s seen him look so troubled and worried before. “ are you insane?! don’t ever try something like that again! if we hadn’t come in in time, then . . . ”.

“ no, we did jack shit, romeo. we owe our thanks to this fellow. ”

upon hearing alexander speak for the first time in a while, seren turned back after being freed from romeo’s painful embrace. now that she could see their savior better, she felt herself growing exceedingly embarrassed.

whoever this man was, she owed him a lot.

he appeared to be the same age as them, if not just a bit older. wearing dark clothes and giving off the air of being unapproachable, seren was quick to classify him as the assassin type the moment her eyes landed on the sword and dagger tucked into sheaths behind his back. he was a hunter, most definitely. and it was thanks to him that the merchants were getting their goods back.

“ uhm, thank you . . . ”.

“ who are you guys? ”.

the unpleasant tone baffled the young girl, she shared a long glance with this assassin before she stepped forward and cleared her throat. she was the head of the party, should she do the introductions? “ w-we’re from behind the walls . . . uhm, we’re here to collect the goods for the stranded merchants back in the main road . . . ”.

he rolled his eyes, “ yeah, i figured that much. came a little late, don’t you think? you shouldn’t keep starving people waiting. ”

oh, the nerve it took her not to glare at evangelos.

the assassin coughed into his hand and turned to the bagged foods and poked them with the tip of his boots. “ look, i was gonna give it back to them when i first witnessed the attack. but these chimeras are hard to hunt down. i suppose i owe it to pinkie over there for distracting them for me ”. pinkie?

looking at the expressions between the boys, no one seemed pleased enough with this encounter. even if they did owe a lot to this young man . . . at least she did.

“ that aside, who are you? ”, it was the first time seren has heard perseus come across in such a blunt manner.

the dark-haired gentleman pursed his lips and stared, “ levi dain. ”

levi . . . seren repeated the name beneath her breath and nodded, growing the courage to speak to him again without feeling intimidated. “ listen, levi . . . y-you can take the credit for the goods being returned. b-but we hoped that perhaps you could point us towards . . . uhm, russia. ”

“ russia? pft, are the people from the walls finally deciding on tourism? ”.

he was becoming more insufferable to talk to than evangelos and alexander combined and that’s saying something. with the way the others grunted, levi decided not to linger on the joke; no one laughed.

he hummed, rubbing his chin. “ i’m afraid i don’t have a map nor any resources to help you lot . . . but i know someone who can. that is . . . if you’re patient enough to talk to a deranged, lonesome hermit leaving deep within the woods ”.

“ fine ”, evangelos snapped. “ lead us to the man. ”

levi smirked. “ pal, balthasar is no man. nor human. not after that wicked witch got him . . . ”.

#chapter seven #original writing #fantasy #adventure #dystopian #futuristic

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thecomicsnexus · 4 years

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BATMAN: A DEATH IN THE FAMILY BATMAN #426-429 DECEMBER 1988 - JANUARY 1989 BY JIM STARLIN, JIM APARO, MIKE DECARLO, ADRIENNE ROY, MIKE MIGNOLA, ANTHONY TOLLIN AND OVER 10,000 PHONE CALLS.

Jason Todd finds out his biological mother may still be alive and he discovers there are three possible women that could be his mother. He then decides to meet each other to find out which one is the one. But at the same time, the Joker escapes Arkham and decides to make some quick money by dealing with terrorists. Both missions will collide into each other and change Batman’s life forever.

SCORE: 8

This story was a big deal when it came out, and for Batman fans, it still is. But it has been cheapened by DC’s decision to bring the character back from the dead. I assume this is not spoiler, as it is in the covers.

I will talk more about the plot in the spoiler section. I feel like in general there is a lot of lazy writing in this story. I think the idea was good, but there are many things in the story that didn’t need to be this way. I would have just removed everything about the middle east, and I would also tried to find an alternative to yet another “diplomatic immunity” plot.

Jim Aparo did his usual iconic style here, but that also means that many characters look too much alike, which is a shame. Especially when Jason doesn’t really look like a teenager.

So, something I can discuss outside of the spoiler section, is the whole gimmick of this story. The phone number vote.

From Wikipedia:

Jason Todd, the second character to take the Robin persona, was introduced in Batman #357 (March 1983). He was initially depicted with a personality and origin identical to that of predecessor Dick Grayson. However, the history-altering events of Crisis on Infinite Earths and Batman: Year One allowed editor Dennis O'Neil, writer Max Allan Collins, and artist Chris Warner to revise his backstory and personality. The changes caused Todd to grow increasingly unpopular with fans during this period; unlike the cheery and optimistic Grayson, this new characterization of Todd was depicted as foul-mouthed, impulsive, and bad-tempered.

Aware of Todd's unpopularity, O'Neil and writer Jim Starlin began discussing ways to retire the character, and before long, began to consider killing him altogether. During an editorial retreat, O'Neil recalled the success of a 1982 segment of Saturday Night Live, in which Eddie Murphy encouraged viewers to call the show if they wanted him to boil Larry the Lobster on air. O'Neil proposed a similar idea involving Todd to publisher Jenette Kahn, who liked the idea. O'Neil would later state:

We didn't want to waste it on anything minor. Whether Firestorm's boots should be red or yellow ... This had to be important. Life or death stuff.

— Dennis O'Neil

On the back of Batman #427, an advertisement was run featuring Batman carrying a severely wounded Robin. In the ad, readers were warned that Robin would die of his injuries "because the Joker wants revenge", but that they could "prevent it with a telephone call". Two 900 numbers were given: one (1-(900) 720-2660) which would let Robin live, and another (1-(900) 720-2666) which would cause him to die. The numbers were active for 36 hours, beginning on September 15, 1988, at 8 A.M. EST and ending on September 16, 1988, at 8 P.M. EST. Readers were charged 50 cents per call. Approximately 10,614 votes were cast during this period. When tallied, the final results were extremely narrow, with 5,343 votes in favor of Jason's death over 5,271 for his survival—a margin of just 72 votes. O'Neil would later admit to having voted in Todd's favor, as he felt that Batman was incomplete without Robin and feared killing Todd would lead to backlash.

"A Death in the Family" was written by Starlin. The artwork was illustrated by Jim Aparo, inked by Mike DeCarlo, and colored by Adrienne Roy. John Costanza handled the lettering, and Mike Mignola designed each issue's cover. The four-part story line began in Batman #426 (December 1988), and concluded in Batman #429 (January 1989). Two versions of issue #428 were prepared: one that would be used if readers voted in favor of Todd's survival, and another to be used if he was to be killed; the latter version ended up being used. The story line was later collected in trade paperback and hardcover form as Batman: A Death in the Family after its conclusion.

When it was first released, "A Death in the Family" generated massive media coverage and backlash over the decision to kill Robin, a beloved comic book character and pop icon. Newspapers such as USA Today and Reuters published articles about it, the latter of which would state that "a group of comic book artists and writers has succeeded in doing what the most fiendish minds of the century... have failed to accomplish". Frank Miller, author of The Dark Knight Returns (1986), was highly critical of the story, describing the "toll-free" number voting as "the most cynical thing [DC] has ever done". O'Neil and his team were caught off-guard by the amount of attention the story drew; according to him, it lasted four straight days, and was unlike anything the team had previously experienced. The story line was a bestseller in both the standard single-issue and trade paperback format.

In retrospect, Hilary Goldstein of IGN called "A Death in the Family" one of the best Batman graphic novels ever written. He described the story as "worth the price of admission", and considered letting readers vote on Todd's fate to be one of DC's strongest decisions. Both Goldstein and NPR contributor Glen Weldon agreed with the choice of killing Todd, as both felt the character was poorly developed and inferior to Grayson. Screen Rant praised Aparo's cover for the collected version, describing it as "iconic" and perfect for showing such a grim, sad moment.

From DC in the 80s:

For Batman, we did Death in the Family -- which was their best-selling book that year -- but it turns out they had all these licensing (pajamas, lunch boxes, and stuff like that) and the licensing department was very mad, everybody got mad, and they needed somebody to blame -- so I got blamed. And within 3 months all of my work dried up - Jim Starlin

Spoilers after the break...

So one of the reason I say there was too much lazy writing in this story, has to do with all the coincidences. The Joker just happens to be in the same places as two of the possible mothers. And not only that, Joker even knew Sheila when she lost her license for doing abortions. I understand why Sheila betrays Jason (she was also taking money from the poor in Ethiopia and didn’t want any problems with the law), but it was never explained how the Joker and Sheila knew each other.

There goes mother of the year!

To be honest, while Jason’s death was brutal, I always felt it was the right thing. Being Robin was child endangerment, Starlin was right in that. But it also seems like Jason magically became Robin, without much thought to it. I tolerate the pre-crisis version more than this one, but the people to blame for how he ended up being... are Max Allan Collins and Jim Starlin.

There were two versions of issue #428, and the material ended up being used for Batman Annual #25 (Infinite Crisis tie-in... more lazy writing, by the way).

But to me the idea of using diplomatic immunity once again was ridiculous, and just the idea that the Joker would become ambassador and kill everyone in the council... while representing Iran... is also quite stupid, because it would be considered an act of war on all other countries.

There is also another idea happening in the last issue. That the Joker knows who Batman is. This would make sense as it was too much of a coincidence that Jason died in that same explosion (Batman even mentions Jason to the Joker). The issue may have been edited to remove all references from the Joker that he knows who Batman is, you can read more about it here.

Both Joker and Robin would drop off the radar for an entire year, a year that was quite important for the Joker, as the Batman Motion Picture created bat-mania around the world. In fact, I am lying, the Robin concept wouldn’t take long to start resurfacing (in just a few months we would have Batman: Year Three). But the consequences of this story were felt for years, until people at DC started basically publishing fan fiction, with reality-punching Superboy prime.

If I had to vote, I would vote for Jason to die. Mostly because I know now, how much potential him dying gave to the batman and robin mythos. Having that dead Robin there is a reminder that what they do is dangerous and has no place for amateurs. I wouldn’t vote for Jason to die again now, as it wouldn’t mean a thing. Like death in comics.

#mike mignola #jason todd #robin #batman #joker #superman #dc comics #comics #review #1988 #1989 #modern age #a death in the family #jim aparo

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years

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Chapter 5: Game

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.

“You look like shit.”

Bucky grunted, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and settled into the cushioned seat. The three-piece Tom Ford hid most of the injuries, but it definitely couldn’t distract from the half-healed bruises that still marred his face, and Thor’s blunt assessment, though wholly unnecessary, was rather apt.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?” their host asked politely.

While neither of them had time for dinner, the restaurant had closed temporarily for their meeting, and politeness dictated they at least have a drink. Within minutes, they were served, and the staff disappeared into the kitchen to give them privacy.

“Tell me what went down,” Thor prompted. “Then, tell me what you want me to do.”

Bucky did the same song and dance with him as he’d done with the others. He gave limited information; said not to make any moves without his permission; made it clear focus was to be on business and nothing else. Though the scotch he nursed during their conversation was undoubtedly top shelf, Bucky couldn’t really enjoy it. He’d been backed into a fucking corner, and though it had been two weeks since the confrontation, he still couldn’t shake the rage.

After Steve reintroduced himself with his fist, Bucky had been hauled to his feet, and dragged out of the penthouse. He was wrangled into the elevator and confronted by two masked men who thoroughly searched him from head to toe. Once Bucky had been relieved of both the knife strapped to his ankle and the gun at the small of his back, they’d bound his wrists in front of him, and put a black hood over his head. The only way he knew they’d taken him to the parking garage was because the elevator announced it, and as soon as they’d stepped out, he’d been forced into the back of a vehicle.

Bucky had heard the tires squeal as they went down and around and felt the slight bounce that indicated they’d hit the street. Then, there’d been a series of turns before a long stretch that suggested they’d gotten on the highway. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut, but he’d been too pissed off for rationality, and what had happened as a result still made him flinch…

As soon as the vehicle was parked, he was taken out of the backseat, and the hood was removed. Military-grade body armor; Magpul FMG-9; grenade and rocket launchers; computers; blueprints; at least a dozen henchmen – it was an impressive display and he knew Steve wanted him to see it.

His two babysitters muscled him over to a wooden chair, forced him to sit, and held him in place with a hand on each of his shoulders. It was some time before Steve rejoined them and that’s when Bucky made the mistake of opening his mouth.

“Can I get a fuckin’ rag or something?” he asked tartly as he tried to stem the blood that continued to leak from his nose. “Or do you want to throw your dick around some more?”

The person to his right punched him. The individual to his left joined in not long after. From there, they took turns. They moved from his face to his ribs and kidneys, which he was able to take like a champ, but a closed fist to the solar plexus stole his breath, and made him fall sideways out of the chair.

He was kicked and stomped repeatedly while he was down, and when Steve told them to stop, they didn’t obey. Seconds later, two shots fired in rapid succession, and instinct made Bucky cover his head and stomach to protect himself. When he finally peeked out from between his arms, he saw the bodies of his tormentors slumped in awkward, macabre positions.

Blood and bits of brain matter were splattered across the concrete, but nobody said anything; the corpses were simply taken away and he was put back in the chair. Moments later, another chair was brought over, and Steve sat down across from him.

“I have a job to do,” he stated. “And you keep getting in my way.”

There wasn’t a single hint of malice in Steve’s voice, but there was an uncompromising finality to it, and the point was driven home via a gun’s safety being released. A muzzle was then promptly nestled at the base of his skull, and that’s when Bucky knew the time for posturing was over.

The man he once called his best friend had always been calculating, but never quite so viciously brutal, and there was an unyielding, steely resolve about him that hadn’t been there before. Black clothing from head-to-toe; protective vest; knives strapped to each thigh; guns on either side of his waist. Broader through the chest; longer hair; a full beard. The combination of his physicality and his dress made him appear menacing, and his sheer ruthlessness meant Natasha had been right in her assessment.

Steve Rogers had changed and he was dangerous.

Bucky carefully lifted his head and met his eyes, “Why am I here?”

“Because you’re the boss, JB, and it’s your job to keep the rest of the Families in line,” Steve stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Or can you no longer manage that?”

The insinuation made Bucky sit up a little straighter, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he asked what precisely Steve wanted from him. When he remarked he didn’t want anything, and that Bucky had already done enough damage, his curiosity was piqued. Bucky didn’t have to ask if the senator’s death had put a dent in whatever plans he had, because Steve was quick to clarify on his own.

“We’re keeping the wife for insurance and will take care of her with the job is done. In the meantime, tell Bruce to stop meddling, and keep everyone else at bay. Understood?”

The gun was pressed harder into his flesh, which made him agree to the terms, but Steve had long ago stopped taking him at his word. It wasn’t until someone brought over a tablet and Bucky was shown live footage of Natasha in her hospital bed and Bruce giving a lecture that he submitted.

Steve nodded curtly and got to his feet, “We’re done. Now, get him the fuck out of my face.”

“Can I bring you anything else?”

Pulled out of his musings, Bucky cleared his throat, and politely declined. Thor shook his head and the server took their empty glasses.

“Remind me what we’re to donate for the fund raiser next week?” he asked as he retrieved his wallet and laid cash out on the table. “I need to write the check beforehand so Wanda doesn’t slit my throat.”

“It’s a silent auction this year.”

Thor cursed lowly, “Means I have to be there for the whole damn thing…”

Bucky stood, buttoned his jacket, and clapped him on the shoulder, “Yes, you do. So, show up on time, bid on something decent, and write a check before you get wasted, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered with a wry grin. “I hear ya’.”

After they both extended their gratitude to the restaurant’s owner, they shook hands, and went their separate ways. Bucky ran a few more errands downtown before he headed home. One glance at his inbox showed there were a million different things that required his attention, but for the moment, anything that didn’t pertain directly to business was put on the back burner.

They hadn’t been able to keep a lid on it, and now, everyone knew Steve was back in town. They were aware of the botched take down, of what he’d done to Natasha, and how he’d ambushed The Boss. The whispers and rumors had already started and Bucky was fed up with being the punching bag.

He’d done as Steve dictated – he told the Families to mind their own and instructed Natasha and Bruce to stand down. With everyone else out of the line of fire, Bucky was finally able to focus, and the clarity brought forth all sorts of realizations.

He’d been distracted, lenient, far too indulgent, and those who worked for him and the Families had been allowed to run amuck for quite long enough. Mouths needed to be shut. Examples needed to be made. Dissention needed to be culled and it was easier to ensure cooperation when the consequences were dire. Deference was all well and good, but as Steve had demonstrated, fear was also a very powerful motivator, and could work just as well.

In fact, sometimes, it worked even better.

Everyone could make an honest, unintentional mistake now and then – they were human, after all, and nobody was perfect. Such minor offenses would be met with an increase in dues and a hefty fine. Serious infractions would result in an immediate loss of territory, authority, and rank. The offender would be required to give restitution in whatever form Bucky saw fit, but they would never earn their way back into his or the Family’s good graces.

Outright disrespect and disobedience – there were no second chances for that -- and anyone who wished to test him or provoke his wrath?

They’d be given a bullet and a shallow fucking grave.

Bucky had just finished putting together the missive when his cellphone rang. He recognized the number and when he answered, all he heard was a clipped, “let me in,” and then, the line went dead. This time, he didn’t allow himself to be taken by surprise, and once he confirmed it was Natasha, he disengaged the alarm, and opened the door.

“We have work to do.”

She smirked and stepped over the threshold, “Ready whenever you are, Boss.”

Chapter 6: Set

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

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do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them · 5 years

Text

Til the End of the Night / Ch20: In which Roman says the fuck word

Previous / Masterpost / Next

Summary: Logan’s plan doesn’t quite work. Patton improvises.

Warnings: mind control, minor fighting-related injuries, death mentions/threats

A/N: there’s like two more chapters left after this it’s so close to being done aaaaa

Taglist: @thegirlthatdoesntofficiallyexist

AO3

~ ~ ~

Virgil reacted to the witch’s cry almost before Roman did and surged forward, blocking his sword with his own much smaller blade before calling on his magic, forming a dark, swirling shield around his right arm and extending his dagger into a weapon more the size of Roman’s, magical energy arcing off it as if eager to attack. Well, whatever his magic may have wanted, Virgil had no intention of actually hurting Roman. He only rushed to fight him like he did because he didn’t want his opponent’s attention turning to Logan or Patton- he was much better equipped to defend himself than either of them, and so he would try to keep Roman’s focus on himself as much as possible.

Meanwhile, Logan had his own plan. He pulled Patton back, as far away from the fighting as they could get without hitting the wall, and whispered as much to him: “I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Patton sighed. Sure, he got a little annoyed sometimes when Logan told him what to do- not that he usually said anything about it- but in this particular situation, it was a relief. Somehow he didn’t think acting on his own impulses right now would turn out very well for anyone.

“For now, all I need you to do is make yourself invisible, and then extend it to me as well.” He looked up once Patton had done as instructed. “It seems the witch has placed a shielding spell around herself. We can’t attack her directly at the moment, but if Roman is removed from the fight, she’ll have no choice but to come out and fight us herself. I wish you hadn’t lost the remaining potions, but it can’t be helped, I’ll just have to improvise.” With Patton holding onto his arm and trying not to be in the way, he searched through his bag and finally dug out the bottle of liquids that glowed when shaken up.

“I’d tell you to stand back for this,” he said to Patton, “but I’m afraid all you can do without letting go of me is try not to breathe on it too hard.”

With that, as Patton stopped breathing entirely just to be safe, he took a pinch of another component, dropped it in, and gingerly closed the bottle again. The fighting was getting intense- Virgil had successfully avoided actually hurting Roman, but he wasn’t doing quite so well at keeping Roman from hurting him, and they were both beginning to tire, their movements becoming sloppy. Now seemed like a pretty good time to end it. Logan counted under his breath, three seconds, and threw the bottle against the ground at Roman’s feet.

Approximately no one except Logan was expecting the small explosion that resulted. Even the Dragon Witch flinched. Fortunately, every potential witness in the room was either deep in a magically-induced slumber or already on her To-Murder list anyway.

Virgil all but threw himself away, ending up curled in a bubble shield trying to convince himself he wasn’t dead. Roman’s response was a little more interesting, if just as instinctive. He was still knocked away and to the floor- the expanding bubble would have done it if the explosion hadn’t- but as soon as he realized what was happening, he was shielded from explosive-based harm by a spell from the witch, and retroactively always had been. This meant that, retroactively, the witch hadn’t had enough power left over for her own shield, and was instead a safe distance away behind the throne while Roman fought for her. She didn’t seem to notice that anything had changed, though- in her mind, it hadn’t.

Roman was taking his time getting to his feet. Enough time that, when Virgil tumbled out of his bubble a second later, Patton was able to rush over and check on him.

“Oh, shoot,” he fretted, running his hands over the places where Virgil was hurt, both from the fight and from the explosion. He didn’t have the energy to keep himself invisible and heal at the same time, so his worry was clear in his expression. “You okay, kiddo?”

He shook his head. “I’m… I’m good. Just… what was Logan thinking, exactly? I just wanna know.”

Virgil had his eyes closed, trying to focus on catching his breath again. He could be forgiven, therefore, for not noticing anything when Patton healed a shallow cut over his eyebrow. Logan, however, was standing right next to the two of them, and very much watching, and very much saw when an identical injury appeared on Patton’s face, just before he finished his task and quickly went invisible again.

Oh.

He inhaled sharply. “Patton, I-”

“Prince Roman!”

The Dragon Witch, with an innate sense of dramatic timing both perfect and infuriating, gestured impatiently to Roman, who had only just picked his sword up from the floor and returned to a fighting stance.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to have to tell you how to do your job, but this is going to take all day,” she sighed. “Forget the sword, just use your power and destroy them already!”

This was easier said than done, but in the witch’s defense, she couldn’t have known that. How could she have been expected to realize that the heroes fighting her were not Roman’s creations, as subject to his whims as the interchangeable castle guards, but actual, real people capable of influencing the world in their own right? As it was, though, he couldn’t do anything so simple as render them instantly weak and unable to oppose him any further, or even kill them where they stood by deciding they’d retroactively been poisoned that morning. He couldn’t touch them directly with his power at all. Unfortunately for them, that wouldn’t stop him from manipulating everything else around them, just as he’d done earlier with the weaponized architecture.

Roman’s sword clanged against the stone floor as he abandoned it, instead raising both hands in front of him. The walls of the throne room, began to shift and bubble, as if they were made of liquid rather than the solid, reasonable building materials they were supposed to be.

Virgil had no idea what he was about to do, and he didn’t particularly want to find out, either. He put his own hands up and readied himself to throw a shield around all three of them, but- Patton was still invisible. Where exactly was he? Virgil couldn’t put his shield up until he was sure no one would be left outside it.

“Pat?” he whispered. There was no answer. He cursed, this time managing to put a crack in the floor beneath his feet… or maybe that was just Roman. “Lo, I- I can’t- where is he?” He’d grabbed Logan’s arm without realizing it, subconsciously making sure that he at least wouldn’t get out of protecting range.

Logan didn’t get the chance to answer. One moment, Patton was gone and Roman was about to straight-up murder them, and the next, Patton was visible again and right in front of Roman, throwing himself at him and nearly knocking him over.

Roman reacted quickly. He wrapped one arm firmly around Patton, pinning his arms so he couldn’t attack him, and held the other out to summon his sword back to him. Patton barely struggled, merely wiggling a bit to make it less uncomfortable. Virgil cried out wordlessly- reacting to both the unbelievably stupid thing Patton had just done, and the fact he’d only just now seen his face after healing him- and tried to run to them, but Roman only flicked the sword in his direction and the floor itself tripped him up. He looked back at Logan, panic clear on his own face.

“Lo, he-!”

Logan pressed his lips together and helped him up. “I know.”

The sword was raised, its tip pressing against Patton’s spine, but Roman gave the witch a questioning look before acting any further. After all, he’d been ordered to destroy the heroes using his powers, and he wasn’t sure if that made stabbing entirely out of the question, even when such an easy opportunity presented itself. Fortunately, he didn’t get the chance to find out before Patton shifted just a bit more and pressed their foreheads together, and the whole room was filled with a near-blinding blue light.

Logan and the Dragon Witch cried out in unison. “No!”

When the light faded, Roman and Patton were tangled together on the floor, both unconscious, and the witch had been knocked back by the surge of energy. Their friends rushed to their sides, now that they were able to do so without Roman’s power interfering. Logan immediately began trying to wake Patton, something slightly frantic in his eyes, and Virgil was halfway to forming a shield around all four of them when Roman began to stir. Being trapped with the evil, controlled version of him was still just as bad an idea as it had ever been. As he opened his eyes, Virgil pulled Patton against his chest, holding him protectively in case Roman woke up and went right back to wanting to stab him.

That… wasn’t what happened, though. He blinked up at them- actually looked at them, not through them with blank eyes- and coughed weakly. “What… what happened?”

Virgil nearly choked on the breath he’d been holding and threw himself forward to hug him. It didn’t work so well, with him still clinging to Patton, and everyone ended up a little squished.

Logan cleared his throat, trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t emotionally affected by anything at all. Ever. “Ah- I hate to interrupt, but I really think we ought to save this for after the Dragon Witch is defeated.” He looked across the room at her, holding her head as she got up, and thought to himself that people had been getting conveniently thrown across the room with almost unreasonable frequency as of late. “We need to get Patton somewhere safe until-”

“Patton,” Roman gasped. His memories were coming back, foggy though they were. “He’s- I was going to tell you, his healing…”

“Hurts him,” Virgil finished grimly. “Figured that out.” He traced the cut on his forehead, blinking back tears. “I… I should have noticed sooner, I- but that’s not what’s important right now. I can keep him safe, as long as you don’t need me in the fight.” Hiding out in a bubble while Roman and Logan fought the witch wouldn’t make him very useful, but he couldn’t let anything else happen to Patton, not after everything he must have been through already.

Roman nodded. “We can handle it. Let’s go.”

Evidently, he’d spoken too soon.

Before he and Logan could even finish standing up, they and Virgil were shoved aside at a wave of the witch’s hand as she strode towards them. It seemed that with her control over Roman broken, she also had a decent amount of magic freed up for use again- too much for them to push past, try as they might. She stood over Patton and snapped her fingers, and his eyes opened slowly… as empty and unseeing as Roman’s had been. It was much easier to control someone, even without a name, when that control was willingly handed over.

“Get up,” she told him, and was dragging him away by his arm almost before he’d completed the action.

The others couldn’t move in her direction again until she and Patton were standing beside the throne, and then Virgil lunged for her, reaching for his magic.

“Ah, ah,” the witch chided. She lifted her own hand and formed a ball of energy right next to Patton’s head. He didn’t so much as flinch, but Virgil stopped dead at the clear threat. “I think you’re going to listen to me now.”

She didn’t look half as composed and in-control as she had when she’d first started the ritual. Her hair had come undone from its neat braid, and her eyes were just as wild.

“It’s a very simple offer I have for you.” She moved her hand closer, singing Patton’s hair. “You can do just one, little thing for me and complete the ritual… and I can ensure the safety of this sweet little friend of yours.”

“You’re… threatening to kill him?” Logan would be the first to admit it was a heartless thought to have, but… that wasn’t actually the worst possible outcome. Patton certainly wouldn’t enjoy getting “killed” here, but is wasn’t like he would actually be dead.

“What does it look like, smart guy?”

Logan put a hand on Roman’s and Virgil’s arms, gently holding them back. “Well, yes, I presumed that was the case; I was merely wondering if you actually expected it to work.”

Everyone stared at him incredulously, with the obvious exception of Patton, and he sighed.

“He’d have to be stupid to agree to that, no matter how much he cares for Patton,” he said, a very strong edge of so don’t do it, idiot in his voice. “One man’s life cannot possibly be worth giving up his entire kingdom and leaving the lives of all its citizens in your… thoroughly untrustworthy hands.” Especially when we all know he would be fine, he added mentally.

Virgil made a warning sound under his breath. This line of thought was making him increasingly uncomfortable. “We can’t just…”

Before he could finish voicing his doubts, Logan added sharply, “What do you think Patton would tell you to do?”

Roman opened his mouth indignantly. Then he closed it again, and sighed. “He… he wouldn’t want me to agree to this, would he?”

The witch raised an eyebrow. “So… you don’t care if I kill your friend, then?”

“Oh, I’d fucking erase you from existence,” Roman snapped back immediately. “You won’t do it, if you want any chance at all to continue living yourself.” Then he realized everyone was staring at him. “...What?”

Logan blinked a few times. “I had… been under the impression that there was some sort of profanity filter in place here.”

“I could’ve been saying fuck this whole time? Are you kidding me?!” Virgil threw his hands up in the air.

“What, really? I mean, I try not to swear too much, personally, but… if there’s been something stopping you, I didn’t put it there. Must’ve been one of you three.”

Everyone’s eyes slowly turned to Patton. He wasn’t exactly able to confirm or deny at the moment, but it sure hadn’t been anyone else.

After a moment, the witch cleared her throat, reminding everyone that she was still there and still, you know, threatening them. “Fine,” she ground out. “He lives, for now… if you’re going to insist on fighting me no matter what, I may as well keep him around on my side.”

She seemed a little surprised when Roman didn’t answer with any kind of fun banter, just gripped his sword tighter, but he wasn’t here for entertainment anymore. It was one thing when she’d only been hurting him- it was an expected part of going against her in this place, after all, however unpleasant. But threatening Patton like she had…

“This ends here,” Roman said, and it wasn’t a threat or even a promise. It was a statement of suddenly established narrative fact.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #patton sanders #platonic lamp #logan sanders #virgil sanders #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

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12miraenie · 6 years

Text

Pieces

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Potential trigger for miscarriage?

Word Count: 5k+

Summary: The mirror is not broken, reflections are still as clear as day. It’s just the way you see yourself that’s changed.

A/N: Compiled up 2 anon’s request, here it is a long one. Proofread was as always...not done. Enjoy! 💕

✾ Link to Masterlist

“I’ll tell Nurse Ahn to bring in a cup of tea.”

The screeching sound of a chair being pulled back was followed by you hastily standing up and waving your hand to the doctor. Too distressed to think otherwise, you removed your jacket from the hanger along with your scarf and bowed down.

“Thank you but no, Doctor. I want to take some air.”

You avoided his eyes when you bowed once more and went out of his office. You didn’t need to look in his eyes to know what must be in them. Sorry, pity, sympathy. You didn’t want another to look at you like you are a broken piece of toy, the very thing your parents did when you woke up in a hospital bed.

You climbed the stairs to the roof with much difficulty, feeling like every organ was being lacerated by force with each step. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. Pushing open the iron door, you were greeted by a strong surge of winter wind. It sent shivers down your body, goosebumps were aligned on top your skin. With small steps, you walked over to the ledge and sat down against the railing. Tears spilled out the moment your body came in contact with the cold, hard ground.

Good thing your parents brought you to a private hospital. The floor was quiet, no busy in and outs or conversations buzzing in the hallway like regular hospitals. It was good nobody saw you running down the hall crying, hair in front of your face looking like a mess.

You shivered again and pulled your scarf tighter around your neck. If your parents saw you like this, they would take turns to scold you about not taking care of your health, especially since you’ve just come out of a big surgery.

It was supposed to be the first good night for you in three months. After the company project you’ve been working on was completed, you finally got the chance to rest, and your parents came to town to stay with you until Minseok’s done his conference in Japan. It was two hours before the scheduled arrival of your parents. You remember grocery shopping and cooking by yourself in the kitchen, and the next second dizziness came crashing down on you, and you struggled to stand all of a sudden. Before you could hold on to something to stable yourself, you had blacked out.

The next time you opened your eyes, a blur of people were around you, running along and pulling your stretcher in the hospital hallway and someone, probably an EMT shouting words. Most were just buzzings to you, but you still picked up a few.

“Pregnant patient with minor head injury…huge blood loss.”

The passing fluorescent lights above your head was the last thing you remembered seeing before darkness took over and you lost consciousness.

Did the result surprise you? You couldn’t come up with a definite answer, because you knew something was wrong long before. There were sudden fatigues, dizziness, or pain in your stomach region that you couldn’t pinpoint what the exact problem was. Busy with work back then, you blamed in on stress and lack of sleep and didn’t bother paying the doctors a visit. When you woke up in the hospital and talked to Doctor Kim, he opened the report and showed you what you had.

Severe anemia with iron deficiency.

The chance of miscarriage went up a lot because of your inherent problems, and you remembered his next words clearly, “This complication…is not something to be treated lightly. Because you were found and sent here an hour after the blackout, and the anemia symptoms started showing in the early stage of your pregnancy…Y/N, I think it would be unlikely for you to be pregnant again. I’m sorry.”

You clutched the railings tight in your hands, the coldness seeping into your palm fought off the nauseating feeling in your stomach and the bitterness of the bile coming from the back of your throat. It’s impossible for you to think that you were to blame for your own child’s death. How can you take that in lightly? To think that you killed a life. A baby that belongs to you and Minseok.

Oh god.

Your eyes shut tight like a reflex at the thought of Minseok. The last time you called him was a little before the accident at home, you guessed that he’s probably aware of what happened by now. Your parents are not exactly good secret keepers. You bit your lips as a sharp drop of tear escaped your eyes. You can’t even imagine what the kind of look in his eyes would be. Absolute devastation, probably. And when he learns the truth? When he finally realizes that the reason a your-his child’s gone was because of you? What would he think then?

You buried your face in both hands and sniffled. The cold wind left a stinging sensation when air went up your nostrils and more tears came out of your eyes. You didn’t want to see Minseok now, you are not physically and emotionally prepared.

You can’t even look him in the eyes.

Freshly showered and dressed in a robe, you snuggled up in two extra thick blankets and leaned your back on soft cushions on the uncomfortable hospital bed. You couldn’t even turn around without hitting the side. On the table next to you was the food your parents bought. They even got the fried shrimp from the food stand in Hongdae that people line up half an hour for. Your parents are not usually keen on breaking the supposedly “strict” rule that you have to eat according to doctor’s orders, they probably did all those to cheer you up.

Flicking the remote, you opened the TV and switched to a random drama. Scooting a bit down to a more comfortable position, you leaned your head on the headboard. An IV was still attached to your right hand, tracing your head up, you focused mindlessly on what you read 9% Normal Saline dripping down in a slow pace on the metal hanger.

You hated it. The needle has never left your hand since you woke up. You hated the hospital smell, the never changing menu of hospital food. You hated the way nurses look at you whenever they come in for check-ups. You hated the way your mom canceled her plans to visit her best friend in Europe and your dad dropping everything at work to stay at the hospital all day long. Every time you told them that you are okay, that whatever happened is in the past, they don’t believe you.

It took you one temper tantrum and two hours of explanations to get your parents to agree to only visit you during visiting hours and go home to sleep. They have been here for 50 or more hours and didn’t get one second of closed eyes. You were mentally drained by the time they said goodbye and closed the door behind them.

You can’t do it all by yourself.

It reminded you how much you miss Minseok. How much easier things would be if he’s here. Your mind went back to the previous times you were hospitalized. He is always the more thoughtful one, bringing you hot packs, reminding you to eat medicine, and holding your hand when you did blood tests and got injections. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when your parents told you that he is on the plane back here, but your thoughts are over the place, and you are not sure if seeing Minseok would be a good idea for now.

Taking a sip of the water, you grimaced at its lukewarm taste. You turned your attention back to the TV and pressed down the remote to change channels again. The drama on screen was a sad one, and sadness wasn’t really something you were looking for at the moment. Turning up the volume, you tried to immerse yourself into a variety show you always loved. But somehow it’s hard to even lift the corner of your lips at the show that still gets you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Maybe the sound of the TV was too loud because when the door to your room was slid open harshly, you didn’t expect to see a panting Minseok with the nurse in attendance hot on his trail.

“Sir, visiting hours are over-“

She stopped talking when she saw you were still up.

“Hey, Soojin, this is my husband over there. Could you please maybe…give us a few minutes?”

The nurse you’ve grown to be friends with bit her lips before sighing eventually.

“Ok, ten minutes. It’s already against protocol.”

“Thank you, Soojin.”

She gave you a soft smile and closed the door behind her.

Minseok was frozen on the spot during the whole interaction between you and Soojin. He stayed motionless, the warm brown cashmere coat was still draped over his arms, the luggage tag still intact on his bag, and he was wearing the exact same clothes he packed for the conference. Minseok fixed his eyes on you. You were not one bit prepared to let him see you like this. Too sudden.

For a while, you just stared at each other. Him standing near the door and you leaning on pillows with barely enough energy to move. Then all of a sudden you burst into tears.

You were scooped into his arms the next second. Minseok’s hold on you was tight, tight enough to squeeze your ribs into one piece. The hospital gown was extremely flimsy, you shivered when your face came in contact with his coat. But it didn’t matter at all. You relished in his body heat and allowed yourself to finally let your guard down once. Surrounded by Minseok’s familiar scent, you convinced yourself that everything’s better now. Nothing else matters because he is here.

Minseok patted your back in a slow, steady pattern until your full sobs quieted down to bare whimpers. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge, and you felt his hands carefully moving the plastic tubing away before finding yours and intertwined your fingers together. His cold hands against your warm ones, but you’ve never felt better.

“Don’t cry. I’m here now.”

Minseok’s voice came out deep and raspy, and it only spurred you to clutch onto him tighter. As a matter of fact, Minseok really is your only savior, the only person you can hang on for dear life when everything comes down. He has been right beside you for better or for worse. Somehow at the moment your mind went back to your wedding vows when Minseok held your hand in his and said the words “I do.” while staring at you with enough determination and confidence to turn the sun around. You might be biased, but no one is better than Minseok as a husband.

You pulled away from each other, but Minseok didn’t let go of your hands. It was only then you really took in each other. His normally neatly styled hair was messy, strands falling out in different direction. There seemed to be a tension between his eyebrows, you can’t tell if they are creased or not. You moved your eyes from his bloodshot, slightly puffed eyes to the dark circles, and to his chapped lips that were pursed in a straight line.

“Min…”

You addressed him for the first time, there was a fragile edge to your voice that caused Minseok to frown and look at you concerningly. It was hard enough to say those words yourself already, and Minseok’s stare was making it harder. The thought in your head that you were trying so hard to get rid of resurfaced the second he walked in your room, and even though you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it’s not going anywhere. Not even after probably a thousand repetitions of you didn’t do this.

It’s not your fault.

“I…I lost our child.”

Once again, you buried yourself in his warmth as if it helps to keep you warm. But the cold, hard feeling from the bottom of your spine could hardly be ignored, and even you were wrapped in Minseok’s arms with a pool of blankets around you, you can’t help thinking about it. How it is your fault, and you killed your child.

“No.” Putting the finger on your lips, Minseok cut you off and shook his head, “Please don’t do this. Not now. I didn’t wait a whole day in Osaka airport for the first flight back here to listen to you blaming yourself. I’m here now. You haven’t lost me.”

You nodded, his tone believable enough for you to relax and focus on him instead. Minseok took off his coat and shoes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sleep. It’s already late. I’ll stay here.“

His words triggered the underlying tiredness that took over your body in one second. The next thing you know, your eyes are closing, your brain is shutting down, and soon your head hit the pillow. Vaguely you remembered Minseok pulling up the blankets over your body and making sure you were comfortable.

The last thing you remembered was a kiss on your forehead before everything went black.

“What about that art show? You told me before that you wanted to go there.”

Not hearing a word from you, Minseok looked up from his laptop and frowned. You were staring at the front absently, only paying a sliver of attention on him or whatever he’s been talking about for the past ten minutes. He sighed loudly and shut the lid closed.

“Y/N?”

This time his voice got louder. “Hey, Y/N?”

You snapped your head up when Minseok called you the third time, returning from your train of thoughts. It worried Minseok quite a lot now, ever since you recovered you would go into these trances and just blankly staring into space and not paying attention to anything. At first, he thought it was just the side effect of the medicine you ate, but as time passed, it has gotten worse. Increasingly Minseok felt that you have been distancing yourself from him, almost like you did it on purpose. He’s confused and a little angry.

He’s been trying everything to make you happy. You smiled less, went out less, and spoke less. You chose to stay behind the closed doors of your bedroom at home, and even if you are out with him, you don’t seem happy. Heck, Minseok can’t even remember the last time you really had a conversation together.

“Ok. You need to tell me what the problem is. I can’t do this on my own.”

You frowned, eyebrows slightly arched as you turned your attention to him and blinked slowly.

“Do what?“

Minseok sighed, exasperated breath leaving his mouth. “Are you serious? Do you not know the problem? I mean, shouldn’t you know the best if you are the one treating your spouse like a stranger?”

You tugged on the corner of your mouth, letting out a huff. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Min.” You shook your head and leaned down to take a sip of your water. This seemed to agitate Minseok more because he became apparently more aggravated, and louder.

“Really? I know you said you wanted space, but it’s been three months already! And I am tired of my wife distancing herself from me? I am your husband for god’s sake! You should be able to tell me everything!”

“It’s not about the...the accident-” You gulped, still unable to say the word out loud. The mug thudded against the table when you tried to make eye contact with him under the dim kitchen light, but Minseok turned away before you could do so.

“See, this is exactly where the problem is. You still can’t face it, Y/N. How can you get over it if you can’t even admit you had a misc-“

“Stop! Ok? Look, I don’t know what’s with you tonight, Min. Trust me. It’s not about that.” Your fingers clicked the table top with each word. You were getting irritated as well. You admit you were different than before, but he shouldn’t have the audacity to accuse you of not paying him enough attention when something as heartbreaking as losing a child happened to you. Not just your body, your emotions too.

“Trust you? Ok, if this isn’t the problem, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong.“ Minseok threw his hands up in the air and huffed. He pushed through his hair and stared at you dead in the eye, “Are you having an affair? Cheating on me?”

You were already on the brink of losing control, and when he said that you just snapped.

“You know what? I never thought you were such an attention seeker before. My world doesn’t go around you, ok? So what if I am cheating? Huh?”

You stood up, anger already burning in full scale. “How can you ask me to move on when I lost a baby-our child from my body? Do you even understand that feeling when you wake up and suddenly can’t feel that extra weight, that extra heart beating inside? You don’t fucking understand, Minseok.”

He went silent for a while and took a position of leaning against the counter.

“You could have talked, communicated with me about everything. You should have done all that to get it off your chest. I don’t know what you are so reluctant to do that.” He shook his head in disappointment.

Blind anger and hurt drowned out your logic at the moment when you blurted out, “If this is what you think, if you can’t even understand me this much, then we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

You turned around abruptly to your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, leaving Minseok standing in the kitchen. Tears flowed out the moment you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned against the door. Your hands were clutching the door handle so tight trying not to let your emotions go to overdrive.

No sound was made from the outside. After taking a few deep breaths and hastily wiping away your tears, you walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase and started throwing everything in. You had no time to fill half of it before the door burst open, revealing a Minseok in obvious distress, who froze when he saw the suitcase.

All sense of anger was gone in his eyes, and panic took over his features.

“What are you doing?“

A humorless laugh escaped your mouth as you threw another article of clothing in. “Can’t you see? What else is packing for then?“

Minseok reached you in three long strides and took hold of your arm. “No, you are not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”

His eyes were clouded with frustration, but the panic and anxiety behind his eyes were not exactly concealed in plain sight. His hold on you was strong, but not enough to make you hurt. It almost felt like he’s pleading, holding on to you like he depended on it.

“You can’t leave me like this, Y/N. I can’t-I won’t lose you too.”

Tears that threatened to come out of your eyes didn’t make it before you masked your emotions behind an emotionless face. You shook your arm away from his hold and turned sideways to zip up your suitcase. God it hurt when you looked at him from under your lashes and breathed out, “You can’t do anything if I want to leave, Minseok. You can’t hold me here.”

Minseok dropped his arm and looked down dejectedly. He didn’t look once as you shrugged on a jacket and tugged your suitcase past him into the living room and eventually out of the door.

“Oh god, what have I done?“

Minseok pushed his body up and reached over to his phone reluctantly. His head hurt like hell, and he cursed under his breath when he squinted at the screen. Who the heck calls at 2 in the morning?

His mind got clearer when he recognized the caller ID almost immediately. It belongs to one of your friends, he remembered you telling him that you went to college and took the same history class. He frowned, why would she call him right now?

“Hello?”

He pulled his phone away from his ear immediately. The other end was too loud, hurting his eardrums with what sounded like base and synth music only a nightclub would play. Before he can say anything else, a voice made him sat up instantly.

“Seokie. Minseokie. Why aren’t you here already? They have the best club music here, and the DJ is so hot.”

A string of giggles and laughs followed suit, and although Minseok can’t help furrow his eyebrows when you mentioned the DJ, he cared more about something else. Like where you are, or what the fuck you are doing in a club.

“What are you do-Just tell me where you are, ok? Are you in a club?” Minseok put his phone closer despite how much his ears hurt from all the noise. You were definitely drunk, slurring all your words and making it hard for him to know what you are talking about.

“Hello? Y/N?”

Minseok threw away his blanket and hurried to put some clothes on.

“Hey! Y/N, are you there?”

After some shufflings on the other end, Minseok was greeted with your friend’s voice. “Minseok? Is it you?”

He had no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the topic, “Where is she? Just give me an address.”

The loud pumping bass made Minseok frown. He has always hated clubs, hated the skyrocketed amount of alcohol people consume there, hated the barely dressed girls who press onto random people, and hated whatever goes on in the hallways or behind doors.

He squeezed through a mountain of people before he could see the bar clearly. Although it was 2 am, people seemed to be having the time of their lives in the club. Minseok saw your friend almost immediately, standing at the end of the bar looking at her phone. As he got closer, he spotted you too. Although you had your head down leaning on the bar counter, he couldn’t have mistaken you for anybody else.

Minseok grabbed your shoulders gently and put an arm around you protectively. Your friend looked up to find him, and a relieved expression took over her features. She shouted over the music, “I’m sorry, she wanted to destress, and I couldn’t stop her, so I had to follow her here to make sure she’s alright. She only drank and never left the bar.”

Minseok nodded curtly when you stirred in his arms. You got up from the bar stool and staggered before turning around and looked him fully in the eye.

“Seokie! You are here!” You said in an artificially high voice, making Minseok frown. It was so obvious that you drank, and by the look of it, you drank more than one shot.

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you? How much?” The last question was directed to your friend, who shrugged and tugged her lips.

“I told her to stop after the third one, but I don’t know, she thrashed around. I didn’t want her to cause a scene.“

Minseok put both hands on your shoulder securely, “Come on, you are leaving right now.”

You giggled and snaked your arms around his waist. Pulling him closer, you tiptoed and whispered in his ear, “Come on, Seokie. Dance with me.”

Minseok’s stare only hardened. He removed your arms from him and gave you a stern look.

“No. I’m taking you home.“

Strangely, you stopped protesting on the way out. Minseok made a path in the crowd and had one arm out to shield you from bumping into other people. You shivered from the chilly wind and Minseok shrugged off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

He helped you get in and buckled your seatbelt when you stared at him wordlessly, with something unreadable glossed over your eyes. He wasn’t sure if you were conscious enough to know what’s going on, but you didn’t even blink looking at him. You leaned on the passenger seat when Minseok started the engine.

“When was the last time we had fun together? Like real fun? So strange, I can remember you doing the same thing picking me up from a party in college. Whose was it? Chanyeol? Jongin? I can’t remember.”

You turned your head sideways and looked at Minseok’s side profile. Your cute pout and drunken babblings would have a different effect on him otherwise, but both of his hands were gripping on the steering wheel and no visible emotion was shown on his face. He seemed to be paying full attention to the road, without even casting an eye to you.

“You are no fun when you are Minseok. I missed Seokie…but it doesn’t matter. When I’m with you, I am happy. Really happy.” You dragged the last word longer on your tongue and pouted. Crossing your arms in front of you, you leaned even closer to him. The seatbelt was straining your actions, and you hissed when it slid across your collarbones roughly. A redlight happened at the same time, Minseok hit the pedal when you fell back to the car seat.

You giggled and reached one hand over to touch his arm. “Oh, I didn’t know you can be this blunt, Seokie. And rough…but I like it.”

Minseok sighed out loud and grabbed your hand to put it back in your lap. In normal circumstances, he would laugh and roll his eyes at your not so subtle at all flirting, but other things were occupying the entirety of his mind at the moment. Like the fact you turned up in a club utterly wasted, like how you didn’t contact him after leaving for 2 weeks, like what exactly went wrong between you two.

You woke up knowing it was the worst morning you’ve ever had in a long time, worse than the time you went out for cocktail tasting with Minseok. Your head felt like it’s been pounded repeatedly by an iron hammer, and your limbs were beyond your body’s control. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your face and turned sideways, unexpectedly hitting something warm. You stiffened and opened one eye, squinting at what’s in front of you. Everything was too bright, but unmistakenly you were inches away from a person. Your eyes widened the moment you tried to piece everything together. Did something happen last night? You tried hard to recall any event from last night, but your mind was of a useless haziness. You jolted up immediately despite how much more your head hurt at the movement. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you tried to process what exactly was going on, before coming face to face with Minseok still lying down on the bed but staring at you with his eyes.

You breathed out loud in relief when you realized it was just Minseok and brushed your hair back. It was hard, not to say awkward, to even maintain eye contact with him after you left that night. You shifted a little further away and leaned your head against the headboard.

“We need to talk.“

Minseok threw the cover off and walked away, leaving his back facing you as he went out of the bedroom. He returned with two tablets and a glass of water, and you took them over gingerly. You gulped down the whole glass hungrily and placed the empty glass on the bedstand.

“Why?”

You didn’t need him to explain further to understand. He was asking you why you left. But how could you tell him? How could you tell him that you can no longer be pregnant? You looked at Minseok once again and took in the sullen look on his face.

He was no better than you in the past two weeks.

You bit down on your lips and took a deep breath, deciding the tell him the truth. He deserves that, more than anyone else.

“It’s not only a miscarriage, Minseok. I…we can never have a baby again.”

The big moment where Minseok gets all disappointed, angry and slams the door and leave didn’t play out according to your script. He was still in the same position, didn’t even bat an eyelash when you revealed the truth. You frowned, this is not the reaction he should have right now.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know?“ Minseok crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “Y/N, your parents told me the moment I got to the hospital.”

You were at a loss for words. So he knew it from the beginning. All of your stresses, pent-up frustrations and worries were for nothing?

“I didn’t know you put that little faith in me, Y/N. You really thought I would leave you for that?”

“But…” You know how much he loves kids. From day 1 of your relationship, you knew Minseok is an absolute fan of children. So are you. As you all grew older and got married, Minseok would gush over newborn kids from either your friends or his. You were 100% sure that one day you two would have a little life cradled in your arms too. Not being able to have a kid would devastate Minseok, you were sure of that. He could have a way better life without you now.

“Why me? Why didn’t you leave?”

“I didn’t marry you because of other reasons. I married you because you are you and because you’ve shown me what love can feel like. No other person can do that.”

Minseok sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his arms, tight enough for you to feel every curve of his muscle under his t-shirt. Close enough for you to hear his every heartbeat.

“You are the one, Mrs. Kim. I should have never let you out that door that night, and I’m never letting you go again.”

51 notes · View notes

tatianareddington · 5 years

Text

Original Redarina theory

3-16-18

This is not edited properly, nor have I adequately noted specific episodes, scenes, dialogue to substantiate each. You may immediately know which one is referenced. I have way more ideas that I haven’t started writing about, ideas to substantiate or explain inconsistencies in the Redarina theory.

I’ve been thinking about this theory a lot. Well actually, I think obsessing is a more accurate word. I’ve actually figured out a reasonable way to explain Carla, Harold, Dom and several others although I have no answers for Red’s roommate nor can I adequately explain the fingerprints matching to his FBI records. (We could assume that either his prints were switched in evidence, more than plausible, or that in some way the prints were transferred to Redarina - I say this only because Red cut off the thumbs of the frozen man to get into the bank box, so that is an episode which shows how someone could use someone else’s body as identifiers - oh, also the episode in which Kaplan removes a man’s eye for retinal identification so that her hire can get into archived FBI files to get Red’s immunity agreement)

And it doesn’t explain the full extent of Red’s burns on his shoulder and back. However we only see Katarina’s injuries from the fire through Kaplan’s memories. I believe Kate says to Katarina, “You’re hurt” so it’s very possible the injuries were much worse than what we saw in Kaplan’s memories. Keep in mind that we have frequently heard that memories are evasive, fuzzy, incomplete (what was Red;s quote from last week’s episode?) And regarding Liz’s memories of the fire, at one point he dismisses them as the memories of a small child. So we know at face value that Kaplan says to Katarina, you are hurt and we know her sweater is torn, so it’s possible that in reality it was much worse.

Gender reassignment/Hiding in plain sight

I. Red’s relationship with Dom

Red acquiesces to Dom, who is grouchy and overbearing

Very close, knew each other from long ago, intimate

“Sorry I didn’t turn out to be the person you wanted me to be”

Intense anger on Dom’s part towards Red, why? ‘Selfish prick’

I think if we look at the Djinn we can see a sort of reverse parallel to Dom/Red. In the Djinn, the father forces the child/son to, I don’t remember exactly how Red said it, but something like mutilate his body against his will and forced to live that way. The father believes he is doing the right thing for his child. The child/son/daughter is beyond rageful that his own father would do such a thing.

I couldn’t figure out Dom’s deep anger at Red because although we see him treating Red as though he was a close relative, he’s very bitter toward Red. I think it’s a reverse of the Djinn: it is the parent who is ‘rageful’ against the child/son/daughter for ‘mutilating’ her body and becoming a completely different person, not the person, probably spy, Dom wanted Katarina to be, a woman.

We know Dom is Oleander so we can assume that Katarina worked with him and that would mean he knew she was a honey pot and, we assume, he was fine with that. What kind of father would be proud of this or want this for his daughter?

Red talks about being young and arrogant, to Dom, and how he royally screwed things up as a result. Reddington kidnapped the girl and bright her to the states, to a townhome. Katarina and some group of people (kgb, double agents? Dom?) Came to the house with a plan, probably a plan to get the girl, get the fulcrum, and somehow do away with Reddington. In their argument that night the man says to her (about the fulcrum) it’s the only thing keeping me alive. Those are the exact words Red/Redarina uses in Luther Braxton when he and Liz are in the boiler room trying to survive, he tells Liz of the fulcrum, it was the only thing that kept me alive (what he said to Katarina on fire night).

So Katarina is the most amazing spy around so much so that she’s considered to be a myth, not actually real, then she had some pretty big.expectations of her abilities. Her weakness? Reddington, and the child they conceived. Red tells Liz when Katarina became pregnant she thought about aborting it, but chose not to. Instead, the instant the baby was born she felt nothing less than that her child was a blessing.

Reddington was her assignment but she became ‘weak’ and fell in love with him. Well, maybe not love, she said to Kaplan it was frivolous. Still, it was not strictly an assignment. And she became pregnant with his child, a vulnerability. She thought about aborting it, that would be the ‘logical thing’ to do. But she was weak because of her feelings for him.

So when Reddington took Masha/Elizabeth, this was her weakest point. She had tried to break it off with him. His taking the child to the states meant she might be outed.

So she set up a plan and got her people gathered. She went after Reddington like she would have gone after anyone who crossed her in her work. Her plan was arrogant, she succeeded at everything. But this plan went wrong. Terribly wrong. And that was her shame. She had to sacrifice the woman to save the child. She had to kill herself because she was death to the child. She killed herself to become Reddington. It was a Hobson choice. “In a choice between ethics and life I always chose life” Red told Cooper.

Dom became bitterly disappointed in Katarina because of her failure. He ended up dragging himself to this place in the woods, alone, isolated, ‘you call this living?!” The comment Red makes about missing the C minor on the piano is about Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor. Most Americans recognize this concerto because Eric Carmen made it into a pop song in 1975 called “All by Myself”. Completely summarizes what Dom feels.

Since Katarina has determined she is death to her child, and she is highly resourceful, she decides to kill herself by changing her identity so she can live in plain sight. But it’s a Hobson’s choice, she must die to her self in order to save the child, thereby completely severing her relationship with her own daughter and denying her motherhood.

Red makes a remark (in recent episodes I think) about making a choice between ethics and life. Red immediately responds he would chose life each time. In this way, it supports further that Katarina would chose to suicide by changing her identity so that she can still life.

II. Red’s relationship with Carla

Red cares deeply about Carla

Carla is initially very bitter/angry at Red

Jennifer is her daughter

Carla: it’s more complicated, but I suspect that after Reddington died either at the fire or sometime during the following year up to December 1990. Carla probably knew about Katarina and Elizabeth. Raymond was away for long stretches so if Raymond did die in the fire, there was reason to believe he was away on a job. The FBI likely knew Reddington died in that fire, or he was severely injured. He was a liability either way because of the fulcrum and the FBI would have manipulated the story to their advantage. Why the 10 months? Maybe he was in a coma and hadn’t actually died but Katarina thought he had.

Here is where the episode, “The Harem” helps substantiate a theory that in the 10-12 months following the fire I believe Katarina was able to befriend Carla or earn her trust through the sisterhood of women to let her know what happened and how to keep her safe. Elizabeth was already safe with Sam.

In those 10 months the FBI came after Carla and tried to implicate her in the theft of the fulcrum, they froze her assets, they pursued her, it was awful. Until the FBI decided they needed to make a story as to why Reddington disappeared (so maybe they didn’t know he was dead) and within less than 24 hours, Carla and her daughter were places in WITSEC in Philly.

I believe Katarina approached Carla, told her of her plan, told her of Raymond’s death, promised to keep her safe. Carla agreed to keep silent about the relationship and silent about Elizabeth.

The harem, a sisterhood, a corollary for Carla and redarina interaction

Lord Baltimore - of Carla Red says to Frank, she’s more like a ??? Distanced? Sister to me….makes even more sense if it’s actually Katarina, are they actually sisters? That would be really weird, but I think it’s more like sisters of the sisterhood of women.

Red has an uncanny way of understanding women. Only a woman would understand women

KATARINA Russian nesting dolls, in time capsule, apartment, elsewhere.

Russian nesting dolls, like a mother giving birth to her daughter from a woman to a woman. And so in changing her identity she was able to break the cycle so that her daughter would not have to live like her, severed from love and true intimacy. Having a ‘normal’ life.

She wanted her daughter to be safe from being coerced into a life like hers using sex to achieve a goal rather than live.

Explains why Kate says, I loved you to Katarina, Dearie, to Red. I don’t think they were lovers, but I do believe Kate loved Katarina and maybe was ‘in love’ with her.

Explains 30 years employment, when you put her in my arms as a baby.

Quiet time between Christmas 1989 to Christmas 1990 Carla says they kept questioning her, froze her assets. She had a house, a dog.

Red has particular compassion for children and women, particularly those who are abused. These are typically female attributes. He has an uncanny sensitivity and awareness not usually attributed to men.Was she abused? Did Dom and other men hin her life abuse her? Push her into using her body for work?

Episode, Berlin corrolary of Liz’s relationship to Red as his child

Zoe rejects wants to get away from her father permanently and even when she is able to be reunited with him, she refiuses.

Prints, tatoos, it’s him, 1994 papers

Graduatied by 24

Floriana campos says “there is no work more meaningful than being a mother”

Red - “how does the devil in you contend with the angel? I would kicked her out years ago.” A man would have said, “I would have kicked him out years ago”

VANESSA CRUZ - prototype of Fire Night

A trip to Cruz’ mother’s house lays out the reasoning behind it all: Vanessa was married to a man named Fernando who was accused of insider trading and then jumped off the George Washington Bridge. But Vanessa always maintained his innocence, and the Post Office team figures out that Cruz is going after people who were involved in the insider trading that Fernando was accused of. When they go back to talk to Mr. Conway in prison, he reveals that there was a group of people who arranged the insider trade, and they all agreed to pin it on Fernando, and when Fernando figured out that they were framing him, he was killed. Everyone who had a part in framing Fernando has been taken care of by Vanessa except one…

Knowing that her jig is up, Vanessa is sitting in an airport, likely on her way to a life of no longer murdering people in bathtubs, when a dashing Mr. Kaplan sits down across from her. He tells Vanessa that her employer is a longtime admirer of her handiwork; she can either run and hide from her newly discovered trail of crimes, or she can accept help. These two seem like a dangerous combination.

“[Reddington] has a moral code. I don’t like it, but at least I know what it is, and it does not include lying to me.” Lizzie, what are you talking about?!

Theories on why Mr. Reddington, criminal mastermind, needs Ms. Cruz, a master framer of criminals, on his team?

Vanessa Cruz fakes her death then sets out to seek revenge for her husband’s death.

She couldn’t kill the woman she was having an affair with because she discovered she actually had feelings for her.

Vanessa Cruz’s sexuality is ‘fluid’. She clearly loved her husband and was committed to her heterosexual lifestyle. But when we see her, years after her beloved husband took his own life, she has developed a sexual relationship with a woman which is based on love. It isn’t her sexuality or her lesbian relationship which troubles her, it is her difficulty with emotional commitment, clearly a result of the pain of loss of her husband.

FORGIVENESS

Velov: Dear, I cannot help you. I would if I could, believe me. I, too, have daughter. The life I led, the things I had to do, she won’t talk to me. I try to explain, but there are some– some things which can never be forgiven.

Cooper: If it were up to me, I’d burn it. I’ve learned the hard way that some secrets are best kept in the dark.

Red: Mine certainly is.

Red: Harold, forgive Charlene. A friend told me recently that forgiveness won’t change the past but could very well change the future. Apparently, nothing is unforgivable.

Liz: My mother’s alive. You lied to me.

Red: Velov is the one who lied to you, Lizzy, not me. Katarina Rostova committed suicide in 1990.

Liz: Velov was the agent assigned to find her. He was getting close, she knew it. That’s why she allegedly walked into the ocean. She wanted the world to believe she drowned.

Red: But Velov knows differently.

Liz: He tracked her to a hotel in Prague. She had just left. But in such a hurry, she missed this… A photo of her little girl. Me.

Red: That could easily have been planted.

Liz: You said the name Masha Rostova had been lost to history until the manhunt. Now it’s out there, and someone’s looking for me. It’s my mother. Who else would care? Who? [ Sighs ] You were right. Some things can’t be forgiven.

The Djinn

3x16 the caretaker

Liz: Forgiveness can’t change the past, but I believe it can change the future.

Red: That’s a charming sentiment. But as far as I’m concerned, some things are unforgivable.

Nasim: Allah teaches us forgiveness, but some things– they’re unforgivable.

RED Bertolt Brecht uses the alienation effect to create emotional distance from the audience.

a pipe-smoking cream puff of a German named Gerta.

Bahram Bakhash (the djinn’s father): I did what I had to to keep you alive.

Red: I believe I will always do whatever I feel I have to do to keep you alive. (The Pilot)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1I0dpBGoUmjh-O67CwDFvjcHDjjtga6fSbv4d3a4yOcM/edit?usp=sharing

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