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januaryembrs · 10 months

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [6]

description: Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

word count: 14.5k

trigger warnings: gore/violence (as per) blood, nakedness? Fear of drowning. I have said this before, Dove has a dark past with themes that include abuse in a relationship (torment, manipulation, prostitution etc) drug use, please do not read this if this is not okay with you. Inspired by Last Night in Soho (dir. Edgar Wright) which is rated 18.

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“So? What about the other gods?” Marc asked, witholding a heavy sigh as he looked over at Khonshu, Dove still nestled into his chest. The vibrations of his words rattled against her forehead, and she wished that for just a single second she could get a fucking break from the life she lived, from the virus that seemed to spread to every area of her life, from knowing the only denominator that linked every awful thing brought upon herself was her.

If it wasn’t her every waking moment spent pining after any scrap of kindness Marc could give her, then it was wishing Steven was here to talk to. He always knew how to make it better. How to cheer her up. He was a lot like Grace in that sense, that he knew exactly which part of her brain was troubling her and managed to weasel his way into the darkness, draw out the sickness and replace it with only good. And if it wasn’t wishing Layla would understand she was not a home-wrecking mistress, then it was her dreams being riddled by Grace, the one sore spot in her heart that seemed to never heal.

She was starting to forget what Grace looked like, she’d realised with a numbing pain. Started to forget where her freckles were, the way she smelled, the shades of honeycomb blonde in her soft locks. She was forgetting, an ailment no amount of healing armour could eradicate.

She’d rather be ripped to shreds all over again if she could see her in the flesh just one more time. Even as a ghost, even as a mirage, she’d take it all again.

“Are they just gonna stand by and allow someone to unleash Ammit?” Marc asked his keeper, his large hand still resting on her crown with a warm softness. She sniffed, pulling away from him with a troubled frown.

“To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath,” Khonshu explained, resting his goliath form in an oddly casual sprawl on an abandoned car.

“What’s the worst they could do?” Dove asked emptily, her tired eyes catching sight of the dead bodies for a split second before she quickly looked away, pretending her stomach didn’t lurch at the puddle of red sap that pooled beneath them.

“Anger them enough and they’ll imprison Seth and I in stone,” That had her head shooting up to the bird-like god, brain whirring at the golden ticket out of this whole mess.

“What?” She asked, stepping towards him, “You mean they can do that? They can relieve us of duty as your avatars?”

“See how you fair against Harrow without the protection of healing armour, little mutt,” Khonshu snapped, and the girl deflated on the spot. That was something she hadn’t thought of. Even if she were no longer Seth’s avatar, Harrow would still be planning on eradicating innocent lives. It was too late for taking back that duty now, she was in far too deep to bury her head in the sand now, no matter how much she’d wanted to.

How many moles had Grace had? Four, in a horizontal line from her ribs to her spine, or was it five? Fuck, what colour were her eyes? Blue, she knew, but what colour exactly, what shade, what hue?

“Alright, so what?” Marc bit back, throwing his hands up in defeat. He, too, had had the fleeting jump in his chest at the idea of being free from his servitude. “You got any good ideas?”

The god thought for a moment, his skeletal chest taking a deep, weighted breath behind its linen robes. A sigh of dismay.

“I have a bad one,” He said, and with a small movement he disappeared into the cool breeze passing over the two of them, as if he were nothing more than a pile of ash, or a thought thrown to the ether.

The two of them spared a glance at one another, Dove’s demeanour still shaken when Marc surveyed her with a soft, cocoa gaze. The wind picked up around them before either of them could speak, Dove’s hair whipping around her sticky face, catching on her cheekbones, the need to peel and scratch and gnaw at her skin overwhelming her with the texture, anything to get the damned blood off.

“What is he doing?” She asked, her hand subconsciously reaching out for Marc’s when the world around her began to darken. But not just for herself, she realised, but because the sun was disappearing.

No, that couldn’t be right. Throwing a squinted, pained look at the clear blue sky, the smell of the metallic tang on her skin slapping her in the face. Her eyes locked on the white orb in the sky that was indeed being devoured by a slightly smaller black circle moving in front of it, the moon. Khonshu was creating a solar eclipse. Switching the light out on an entire section of the world, drawing far too much attention to himself than would be allowed by the gods.

“Sending the gods a signal they can’t ignore,” His deep voice echoed around the clearing, the wind carrying the sound to their sensitive ears.

She felt Marc take her hand as darkness swept over them, unnaturally fast for any solar eclipse, tugging her back towards the town where cries of startled citizens were beginning to meet her ears.

“Come on,” He murmured, his warmth grounding her astonished mind, her eyes quickly adjusting to the shadow that swallowed the sands.

“I don’t know whether to applaud him for the guts or curse him for putting you in danger,” She mumbled, not missing the way their hands seemed to gum together from the equal amount of ichor on them. She didn’t miss the way Marc’s knuckles were blown open, the flesh around them sore and sliced from his fist fight with the mercenaries. She made a note to fix them later.

“That tends to be the way with Khonshu,” Marc replied sourly, the two of them taking a long set of old sandstone steps back down to the city.

She huffed, more agitated than he had ever seen her with a solid frown on her normally gentle forehead.

“Well maybe when all of this is over, we find a way to get rid of them both together?” She proposed, and he couldn’t help but lurch at the fact she saw a together for the two of them after all of this. Not together in love, he chided himself, but Layla had been the only other person to ever see him as worth sticking around for. It was nice to have Dove too.

Flashing her a barely there smile, he squoze her hand lightly. It fell the second he caught sight of the bird headed god and his jackal like companion waiting for them at the bottom of the steps as if they heard their devious little plan.

“That was abit over the top, don’t you think?” Marc sassed, keeping hold of Dove’s hand and steering her away from Seth’s looming gaze, even if to hold off his intruding presence for a second longer than necessary.

“Hurry, they’re gathering their avatars now,” Khonshu demanded, the two of the goliath gods trailing behind their own minions.

“Aren’t they scattered all over the world?” Marc asked, and Dove was glad he was here with her at least, she was sure by the way her stomach was twisting so painfully she would have retched her breakfast by now. She was going to have to meet more gods? Not just any but the Ennead, the effective high council of Egyptian Deities and plead their case to the ancient beings? The current track record set by the Gods she had met had caused nothing but misery for her short life, so the idea of introducing eight more to that mix sent her chest pounding.

“Yes, but for a meeting with the Ennead, a portal presents itself anywhere,” Seth cut in, halting the two humans in their step. His face, his presence, was not one that they simply could get used to. A chill ran down both their arms, and she felt him tug her just a bit closer to him.

“Okay, so where’s ours?” Marc asked, and as if to summon the portal in question, a low rumble only they seemed to notice rocked the earth beneath their feet, though it seemed too delicate to be an earthquake, too harsh to be oncoming footsteps. It was then that bricks in the nearby building began peeling away, crumbling in on themselves to form a long archway corridor. The walls were lined with hieroglyphs she was certain wasn’t part of that building, more likely wherever it was the portal led to.

“Last time I spoke to the gods, they banished me,” Khonshu spoke solemnly as the two of them stepped towards the doorway. A faint, amber light flickered against the symbols etched into the stone walls, illuminating them with a golden glow that reminded her of Seth’s staff.

“Join the club,” Seth growled with a bitter chuckle, and Dove fought the urge to point out the sheer amount of times he had slaughtered his own brother for power that had led to his banishment, but she thought better of it than to be the one receiving his wrath. “Our case against Harrow must be indisputable,”

The two of them hesitantly stepped forward, Marc subconsciously moving in front of her as if to want to head in there first, check if it was safe. But there was no time for heroics, and he didn’t doubt Seth wouldn’t have her defend herself if things started to go south. Hearing the two gods retreating behind them, Dove whipped around to see the beasts slinking off through a nearby street.

“Aren’t you coming?” It was perhaps the only time she would ever want the God of Death there to support her case. Though, upon thinking about it, she guessed Osiris seeing his killer may not go down well considering the god’s reputation.

He snickered darkly, throwing a glance to her over his muscled shoulder that rippled with corded tendons with every movement.

“You know I love a family reunion.

Dove’s jaw slacked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. They were so fucked.

Marc huffed, and the two of them stood looking down the long corridor with a shared hesitance. Once they went in, they were going in blind. Into a space where there were beings even more powerful than the gods they were bound to. Who knows what the Ennead were capable of, whether they were known to hold grudges around two exiled gods and the humans they deemed worthy of their service. Would they see right through her? Right through this innocent little marionette she played every single second. Would they see her for exactly who she was, would they see the chaos festering in her heart? The rot eating away at her bones?

“Ready?” Marc whispered, the sound barely meeting her ears. He looked over at her gently, eyes wide and anxious, though he seemed more worried about her than himself. Her eyes were glazed over, tired. Her hand was cold in his palm, yet she gripped onto him tightly as if he were the only thing she had to ground herself. She looked back at him, though he could tell she was far away, she wasn’t here with him, the same as this morning in the room, when her smile had cracked for just a single second and he saw the sadness behind her eyes that rarely appeared. He hated it.

She didn’t speak, just nodded and it was enough for him to draw her even closer, hold her hand even tighter.

The two stepped into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing down the long chamber, engulfed in a cloak of darkness from the lack of sunlight. It certainly wasn’t a new building they were entering judging by the erosion on the crumbling walls, though the hieroglyphs were surprisingly well preserved. A light flickered at the end of the passage, the only thing giving them any idea where to go as they clung towards one another. A large figure of a head came into view, starting small but the closer they got it became clear the figurine was actually huge, large enough to tower over both of them ten times over. She guessed by the head piece and the jewellery they were royalty, or at least the spouse of a pharaoh, well respected. Revered. A tomb for an esteemed member of Ancient Egyptian society.

She remembered Steven showing her a special edition guide to Egyptian myths they had in stock just three weeks ago, how he’d been waiting for them to get the shipment in for months since it was so low stocked everywhere else. He’d nudged her every chance he could get when they finally got to take their lunch break, turning his new prize to her to show her every diagram or photo or excerpt he could, telling her more facts that he’d read in other books, talking her ear off the entire train ride home too. She thought him the smartest man she’d ever met; thought his intellect, his sheer excitement to share his interest with her was the sweetest and most attractive thing she’d ever seen. He certainly didn’t make it easy for her to not kiss him silly right there on the spot.

Two more figures came into view, two behemoth statues flanking each side of the head, one a falcon, a distinctive crown atop his stone head, the other a woman with two large ostrich wings as her arms, curled around herself.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc’s head whipped to the side, Steven’s face reflecting in the polished golden engravings on the stone walls, his chocolate eyes lit up in wonder like a boy on christmas. His hands clasped together in front of him nervously, though his mouth was pulled into a gobsmacked smile, his gaze flicking around the enormous expanse of the room as if to take it all in at once. “Oh- my days. We’re inside- we’re inside the Great Pyramid of Giza,”

Marc’s head flicked to the room that opened up into a colossal square, unmistakably a pyramid built for the worthiest of pharaohs.

“Steven said we’re in-” Marc started, his voice low, gentle as if to not alert whatever it was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, only for her to cut him off with an equally hushed tone.

“Great Pyramid, yeah” She nodded, her eyes stunned and overwhelmed. Nodding towards the Falcon statue, she pointed with their joined hands, “That’s Horus wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt.”

“God of Healing and Protection?” Marc asked, recalling the few things he knew about the other gods. She nodded, her eyes never ripping away from the expanse of priceless relics in front of them.

“As a man, yes. Horus as a Falcon represents Kingship,” She explained, watching his eyes trail over her face with a strange look, softening just a touch more if it were even possible. Turning back to nod towards the other statue, “The woman with the ostrich wings is Ma’at, judge of the hearts of the dead. She represents justice and order, balance and morality. This was a Pharaoh who wanted the greatest of respects and fortune in his afterlife,”

Marc’s jaw slackened at her brain, practically seeing the cogs turning in her bright eyes, the flame from the torches dotted around the tomb giving her face a beautifully warm glow. She looked divine, as if it should be her with statues erected in her honour, as if she were the one who deserved a wonder of the world in her name.

“I think I’m in love,” Steven’s besotted voice came from the reflection behind him, feeling the alter’s eyes enraptured with her face just as much as he was. Marc nodded once, ripping his gaze away from her to focus on the unfamiliar territory ahead.

Now was not the time for childish feelings, he chided himself, though Steven’s words had cut him deep, confirming for Marc something he already knew. It wasn’t just a little crush he was in the way of - Steven was in love with this woman. And he was wrecking it, he was simply a wall in between two gentle creatures that deserve nothing else but each other.

He always knew he ruined everything.

A frown settled on his face, avoiding her gaze with a sneer as they ventured forward into the tomb.

“Come on,” He murmured, unclasping her hand and quietly stepping into the cold catacomb.

“One evening,” He had said, waving his finger in her face at the door like a master scolding its pup, “You girls can have one evening out,”

It was probably because the neighbours had started getting suspicious about the two girls that would sit in the window but would never leave, or perhaps it was a treat for being such good little victims and remaining complacent. They didn’t know. At first Grace had said it was a test, a test of loyalty. It wouldn’t be unlike him to give them a sick game to test if they really were faithful to his command. But perhaps it was a treat? After the two years they had remained in that house, remained together, this was the first time they were allowed outside that wasn’t the garden.

They were ecstatic.

Don’t be fooled, he was sure to collar the two of them before they could step foot out the door, his fingers squeezing just the slightest bit to tell them exactly what would be waiting if they were to run or go for help. Don’t be stupid, now girls, he reminded with a low grumble. And they were gone.

It had started with a brisk walk down the street, past the abandoned hotel that sat opposite their bedroom window, its welcome sign springing to life every evening even after its years out of business. The girls had a prance in their steps, truly with no idea where they were headed since they couldn’t see past a certain point from their spot in the window. Once the road turned into a long slope down, the houses getting bigger, the yards getting greener, the road getting quieter, was when it settled in that they were outside again.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Grace whispered, her head tipped to the heavens, the crease on her brow ironed out. She took a deep breath, her mouth pulling out into the biggest smile she had ever mustered, Dove swore she could count every single one of her teeth. “We’re fucking OUTSIDE!” She yelled, no doubt waking up the neighbours. It was dangerous, drawing attention to themselves, but Grace couldn’t care. The Summer breeze filled her lungs, the seven o’clock sun fell over her face in full force, the feeling seeming to be extra warm than what she was used to. Because there was no window there. Because they were free.

Until eleven, in four short hours, but they were free nonetheless. The birds had never sounded louder, the air never tasted so sweet.

She couldn’t help but join Grace in taking a long, deep breath, a laugh bubbling out her throat, loud and joyful. Perhaps the happiest she’d felt in years. Like slipping out of a cage, a bird with its wings spread. She rose her arms to her sides, feeling the wind whip entirely around her middle, and suddenly the two of them were running. The street was empty, save for the two sets of footsteps slapping against the concrete as they sprinted down the descending hill, their fingers brushing against each others every now and then before Grace reached over and clasped her hand tightly against hers.

They were free.

It wasn’t long before they’d reached the beach, the one mother showed her as a child, the one she’d been to when the boys were little. It was nothing spectacular, nothing like they’d see in a foreign country. The sea was cold as anything since it was still England after all, the sand was mostly rocks, but the sound of the waves rolling in on their little slice of heaven.

The two lay on the hard sand, shoes kicked off and fingers buried into the course grain, just feeling. The sea was far from lapping at their feet; though ice cold, they wouldn’t find it in themselves to care anyway. The freezing water would barely even scrape the surface of the elation they felt now, there truly wasn’t anything that could simmer the way their hearts pounded in their ears.

“Three hours left,” She reminded, only to have Grace tut her and swat at her arm.

“We won’t be late, stop worrying,” The blonde chided, sand sticking to the side of her cheek as she turned her head in the sand to see her companion, “Just breathe,”

She knew she’d meant ‘breathe it all in’, the day, the feeling of their cage door being blown open, but she couldn’t help but do as Grace had commanded and take a deep salty breath in.

The sun warmed her as the shore breeze cooled her. A balance. An equilibrium. Her mind was blank for the first time in a long time. The waves may as well have been the thoughts ebbing and flowing from her mind.

“In some other universe, this is our life every single day,” She finally muttered, as if too scared to speak it into existence and risk waking up from whatever dream they were having. Grace snickered, their fingers meeting once more. Grounding. Warm.

“Do you think so?” Grace asked, her cornflour eyes squinting in the sun, watching the way her friend’s eyes remained closed, soaking up the entire thing. “You think we’re together in other universes too?”

“I hope so,” She responded, her toes sinking into the warm sand just a touch more, clinging to the back of her bare calves. “I hope I’m with you in all of them,”

Grace smiled, and her eyes opened then, meeting the sky with a tired blink before she turned to where Grace was staring at her. The two simply looked at one another, as if looking in a mirror of themselves though their shell was entirely different. Like their souls had met an equal in their gaze.

“I don’t care which one I’m in as long as I have you,” Grace whispered, clenching onto her hand with a soft desperation. She sighed, turning back to stare at the sky, a new openness at the difference the vast blueness held from her bedroom ceiling.

“I hate that house.” She confessed, though Grace already knew she did. “I feel like I’m-” She welled up, and Grace shifted to rest her forehead on her shoulder, “I feel like I’m in a coffin. Like I’m in a tomb. Like I’m screaming and banging on the door but everyone assumes I’m dead already,” Her brothers. They never responded to her letters, texting was too risky. But the envelope with the money made it to them once a month, she always sent it with the hope they would understand, understand she hadn’t left, that she wasn’t gone. But perhaps she was. She felt already gone. Felt like a corpse walking. “Maybe I already am dead,”

“I would never let that happen to you,” Grace whispered, nuzzling her face into her bare shoulder, “Me and you in every universe, right?” She asked, nudging her arm against hers to make her point, “Cage, house. Beach, tomb. I’m with you in every one of them,”

Dove’s breath was caught in her chest when she saw the sheer size of the pyramid. They didn’t call it the Great Pyramid for no reason, she supposed, but the sculptures alone were some of the biggest pieces of art she had ever seen, larger than any relics they had at work.

Marc took a slight lead, heading towards the centre of the room, where the floor lowered into a pit-like square, the floor a cold stone and undisturbed. Nine smaller, seated statues lined the steps down to the trench, one for each of the Ennead they guessed quickly. Eight doorways, similar to the one they had just exited from, dotted the remaining walls. A slight flash of light came from two of them, where a young woman stepped through the door to the close right.

She was beautiful, Dove noted immediately. Her sepia skin glowed in the dark lamp light, her midnight black hair silk over her shoulders. She was effortlessly graceful, beautiful gold jewellery winding over her wrists and neck, her eyes fox like yet gentle as she peered at the two newcomers.

“Khonshu’s antics are unparalleled.” She said with an accent Dove couldn’t place other than the melody it spelled over her every word. “You must be his avatar,” She said with a glint in her eye Dove knew was not just from the fire light. She was only a single pace behind Marc by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, yet she felt entirely lost, as though she were just floating her way down to where the woman met them, her legs jelly and wobbling.

“And who are you?” Marc asked politely, though she could sense the wariness in his tone. Untrusting. Ready to make a run for it if it came to it. She saw how his shoulders held the tension he rarely seemed to displace, she wished she could simply shove her face in between his shoulder blades, hug him like she had in the room. Feel him relax under her touch. She wished they were anywhere else but here. Anywhere but where the walls seemed inevitable, seemed to seal in around her, their very purpose to keep the dead inside.

“I’m Yatzil, Avatar of Hathor,” The woman announced, nearing the pair with a smile. Friendly, Dove noted, but she saw the way Marc tensed even further as she reached them, a look of plain fear flashing over his expression, as if she were about to be snatched away from him by the relatively kind looking woman. “Goddess of Music and Love? Surely Khonshu mentioned her,”

Marc shook his head slightly, a grimace on his battered face, “The gods aren’t exactly his favourite topic,”

“Not even when they are old friends?” Yatzil pushed, and Dove straightened up when she saw the playful way the avatar studied Marc with. Something boiled in her chest, something hot and sour, like her lungs were trying to choke her from the inside out. She didn’t like the way she was looking at Marc. To say he was hers only to look at drew even more tumultuous feelings in the pit of her stomach, but unlike Layla, who could barely stand the sight of him without steam blowing out her ears, she was interested. She was flirty.

She wanted out of this sinking ship already before she did something she would regret.

The woman looked over Marc’s shoulder then, only just noticing the shadow that seemed to peak from behind him, her eyes wide yet calculating, a vast contrast to Marc’s furrowed brow that glared at everything.

“And who might you be?” Yatzil’s voice was mellow as she took in the new figure, her gentle gaze never wavering. Perhaps she wasn’t so much flirting as she had guessed, and she wanted to chide herself for getting so worked up so quickly. Maybe she was just overly friendly to everyone, being the Goddess of Love and all that.

She was almost embarrassed with how quickly she had become possessive over Marc. It was hard not to when she was accompanied by an extremely attractive man that seemed to draw eyes everywhere he went. She thought she had enough trouble with Steven and Dylan, let alone a Goddess.

Chancing a look at Marc, the two of them agreeing solely with a single silent exchange, she told Yatzil her name.

“I’m Avatar of Seth,” She confessed, not missing Yatzil’s face tightening, her smile becoming a tad more forced. Her once gentle eyes became intrigued, looking the girl head to toe, before turning back to Marc.

There it was. The turn. The moment she realised she was not to be trusted. That she was rotten to her marrow.

“I did not know Seth had a new avatar,” She said, all traces of warmth gone as she surveyed the younger woman with a new suspicion, “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Marc cut in, sensing Dove’s anxiety by the way she fidgeted with her fingers, grabbing her hand back into his own to stop her from picking at the skin around her thumb. He hated it when she did that, saw how sore it made her digits, how she would bring band aids with her in her bag in case any of the scabs broke skin, “It’s not why Khonshu called this meeting,”

“Yatzil,” A voice called down to them, and it was then that the pair realised the rest of the avatars had made it, standing behind each of their podiums that represented their gods. They looked like regular people, though she supposed so did she and Marc. That was the point of them. It made Dove wonder if there were hundreds of them out there, if she had walked past them in the street before, thinking nothing of them.

Yatzil gave them a strained smile, leading them towards where the four other avatars stood, waiting to pass conviction on the two of them. She couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter after that stilted introduction, as though they were heading to a chopping block with cuffs and a bag over their head, the avatars facing them all judge, jury and executioners.

Her trial was over before she had opened her mouth. Just the very sound of Seth’s name had set Hathor on edge, let alone when she faced the god Seth had repeatedly assassinated. His own brother, Osiris. Or even his sister, Isis.

“Have they told you how this works?” Yatzil asked calmly, heading to the steps towards her own podium, where Hathor’s proud statue watched them approach, a pair of long cow horns straddling a large sun disk signalling her seat.

“Not really,” Marc answered for the two of them as Dove naturally fell behind his shoulder, gaze flicking to the new sets of eyes that peered down on their lowered figures. She hated the way they picked her apart with their unfriendly glares, vultures circling a carcass waiting to dive in and clean her off to the bone. They would have her for breakfast any second now. “Is there somethin’ we should know?”

No, they wouldn’t. Marc would never let that happen. Marc would protect her. She trusted him with every fibre of her being, trusted him as much as she trusted Steven. He would protect her.

“I try not to fight it, it’s a strange sensation but you’ll get used to it,” Yatzil said vaguely, bunching her rust coloured dress in her hands to ascend the ancient steps, her satin-like hair rolling down her back as she turned away from them. Her head flicked back jarringly, Hathor’s spirit consuming her body smoothly, as did the other avatars, the humanity flickering from their harsh stares and swirling into a bright white, the gods taking place in their vessels.

“In attendance,” Yatzil’s voice was still the same, though it held a new level of power, a confidence that only an other worldly being could carry, the clarity of a creature that had seen the earth for thousands of years, “Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor. To hear the accounts of Khonshu and Seth,

A cold spread down her spine, minimal compared to the other few times Seth had taken her body as his own, gentle almost. A soft whoosh of power flooded through her vertebrae, spreading up her neck and through her throat, releasing through her lips as a small sigh. It was benign, as though there was simply a hand stroking down her back compared to the leg numbing force he usually took her with, the kind that made her head dark and fuzzy, the force of being locked out her own body, this felt nothing like that. Perhaps Seth was on his best behaviour in front of his older brother who they both knew could exile the God of Death to stone.

Tormenting and breaking a young girl's mind did not send the message of urgency the four of them needed the Ennead to understand.

She felt Marc’s hand twitch in her own, causing him to drop her palm once more, and she guessed Khonshu had also taken his place inside his avatar. Yatzil would have had a heart attack had she been put through what Seth had tormented her with if she thought this was a ‘strange sensation’.

The weight of Osiris’ glare fell upon her shoulders, and it became clear there was no love lost from the God as she looked upon his frown.

“Brother,” The growl emitted from the human man’s throat, a sneer tugging at his lips, “I trust this is your doing, you and your newfound play thing,” He eyed Dove’s cowering body with disgust, a calculating scowl on his relatively young face. The man couldn’t have been older than thirty five, dressed in a smart business suit and a face that not a single laugh line marred, as though he hadn’t smiled a day in his life. Fitting, she thought snidely, for a god so serious.

Yet those thoughts felt like Seth’s. And with it brought a new wave of peril, unlike the one that came after she would black out. Could he hear her thoughts? Had he buried herself into her head, her only place of solitude? Or maybe was her brain just that cruel all on her own?

“You should be on your knees thanking me, brother,” The words spewed from her chest unprompted, and it took everything in her not to clasp her hand over her mouth to stop it. It felt like someone had reached into her lungs and dragged the accusation up her oesophagus. It was a clap of thunder that echoed around the enclosed chamber, a dark cry that met her ears, leaving her gobsmacked that that was her voice.

“And why is that, brother?” A woman to Osiris’ right, his sister-wife Isis, snarled. Dove wanted to sink to the floor and beg for forgiveness from the two deities that looked at her with a disdain that tainted her skin. She wanted to plead for them to send her home, send her away from all of this mess, just please stop, stop looking at me like that. But instead what came out was the voice, his voice, ripping from her throat with a ferocity that was nothing like hers.

“Were it not for me, dearest sister, and Khonshu, we would not be here meeting to discuss a matter that threatens us all,” Seth’s growl seemed unnatural coming from such a small creature, her eyes wide and afraid as she cursed at the gods with his tongue. Whether it were Seth speaking or not, she was the one they looked to with hatred.

A slender, dark-haired man flanking the other side of Osiris, undoubtedly their son Horus, snorted bitterly, his eagle eyes gazing down the steps to the woman whose head snapped to him.

“You threaten us all, Set. You and your chaos. Your need for vengeance.” He spoke with an Irish lilt, his mouth sneering just as well as his father’s, “It is clear by your actions there is no end to the darkness and turmoil you wish to cause mankind, as well as to your own kind.”

Osiris raised a hand to his son, taking over the brunt of the reprimanding. Dove didn’t doubt this had been what it was like for centuries, she knew the pain of being the oldest and having to mother her own brothers. Though, exiling them to a stone for all eternity for endangering lives was a new concept even for her.

The eyes narrowed in on her as Osiris puffed out his chest to speak, his voice a calm command that rattled her bones.

“It is our job in these vessels to remain unseen, to keep the peace between our world and the humans,” He was rather quiet despite the petrifying effect he held over Dove, the way his and every other god sized her up as she quivered in her place. “Do you not hear how they cry out? That is fear. You scare them, brother, for your own personal enjoyment. We have long since understood you love the taste of their horror. Imagine the hatred they would feel if they saw what lay beneath that young flesh.”

Dove’s eyes lined with tears. She knew the insults were directed at her counterpart that could hear them just as well as she could, that she felt bristling uncomfortably in the back of her mind at the sound of the offence, yet the darkened eyes and sneers they accounted her with churned her stomach in guilt as if this were her own trial. Her own sentencing.

They would fear her if they knew who she really was. What she really was. And the sick part of her knew the darkness had laid under her skin long before any of this. She choked on the words Seth tried to force out of her, gritted her teeth for him to keep quiet, to just let the onslaught end. Let her sentence be carried out, let her be hung, drawn and quartered under their resentful gaze even if to let the pain end, just let it end, just let me go, release me from this life-

“Alright now-” Marc’s voice was fuzzy behind her, the slightest step he took forward towards the gods was stopped by Osiris’ angered voice, a firm look snapping to the new culprit.

“And you. You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us Khonshu,” Just like that, their attention had been stolen from the pitiful girl that shook in her spot as if no more than a street dog, mangy and yet guilty looking. “And you know we despise your garishness,” He continued, Marc stopping in his place to hear what the high immortal had to say, “Your showy masks and weapons. But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone.”

“Spare me your self-righteous threats,” Marc’s voice was a strained call of anger. Clearly Khonshu had a lot to say to the council, Dove mused to herself behind a weakened expression, “I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you,”

“We have not abandoned humanity,” Horus chimed in, a pinched glower on his young face, “They abandoned us. We simply trust our avatars to carry out our services without calling undue attention to ourselves,” His eyes shifted back to the young woman who gulped under his fire. “Is this why you’ve resurrected the one who caused them so much pain? In the name of aiding the humans? Look at the bloodshed that has already been drawn under her hand,”

He nodded to the state Dove was in, the gummy redness that stuck to her arms, that buried under her nails, that smeared across her face. There was no denying that she had caused such a massacre. There was no running, no hiding from their judging eyes.

“Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods. Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm. Seth has been the only one brave enough to unleash his strength on those who deserve it,” Marc jolted back as Khonshu left his body, a deep draw of breath expanding his lungs. Dove’s eyes flicked to him in sorrow, seeing the toll the god was taking on him, even if just for a second, the urge to bury her face into his arm and ask to go home overwhelmed her.

“The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man,” Osiris spoke calmly, though the order was clear. The two of them were to submit, to yield under their commands.

“We will decide our best course of action,” Tefnut cut in, under the guise of a glamorous earth-brown woman, her shirt a pop of reds and oranges that brought out her hooded dark eyes even in the lowlight of the tomb. Her gaze was just as intimidating as the others, though she looked at Dove with something more akin to understanding than the rest. The eyes of an elder, who had seen more than the others. A wisdom that only came with thousands of years on the earth they deemed unworthy of their protection. “Speak your purpose,”

“We call for judgement against Arthur Harrow,” Her own voice constricted at the rage that had now overcome Seth’s words, the vitriol that settled under her skin, that boiled her blood for a fight that was not hers.

“The charges?” Came Isis, in the form of a placid, moonlight woman, her doe-like, hazelnut stare serene yet piercing when accompanied with the disappointed purse on her cherry blossom lips.

“Conspiracy to release Ammit,” Khonshu’s exclaim ripped its way through Marc’s chest as a single tear dropped down the man’s tawny cheek from the effort in which the god tore at his psyche.

“That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu,” Osiris said seriously, bringing his hands together as if to search himself for guidance. The man took a deep breath, a silence settling over the room for a moment, the five avatars awaiting to hear their superior's judgement.

She practically felt Marc’s heart pounding in his bones, heard the way the deep breaths rattled his lungs, how his chest burned with effort. She was glad for them at least that Seth had listened to her plea to hold his, her, tongue, allowing Marc to take the brunt of the conversation. She knew the recklessness of the god would only dig them their own grave, that they would be left with little to no hope of taking on Harrow without his help.

Osiris sighed, looking to one of the smaller doorways burrowed into the side of the pyramid. “Let us summon the accused,” He ordered, an orange flicker of light emerging from the catacomb. Dove felt her chest seize at the whoosh of fresh air that came through the doorway, hearing two weary footsteps making their way towards them, scraping against the sand that dusted the hard, stone floor.

And with them, Arthur Harrow appeared.

Handsome for a man of his age, yet his eyes were soulless blue pits, little to no remorse for his schemes behind them. Instead, he seemed to be excited, jumping for the chase, the cat and mouse game the three of them had going. He seemed almost animated to see their newest intervention to halt his plans as he stepped into the tomb, a fake look of bewilderment on his older face.

His hair was greying wisps around his jaw, his suit a plain mahogany two piece that dragged against his espadrilles. He slowly stepped towards them with a cold stare, his jaw clenched in a hidden smirk as he sought the attention of the Ennead.

“So I see from Khonshu’s current makeshift avatar, the purpose for this meeting must be nefarious,” He said plainly, the false innocence in his expression causing a hot anger to wash over Dove’s face.

This time it was her own. Seth was still there, dormant behind her cranium, still seething from his reprimanding from his older brother, twisted with hate at the sight of Harrow, but the overwhelming feeling of outrage was hers.

“Not to mention this poor little soul Seth has taken as his own,” His blue pools of nothing slid to her, the dare to retaliate set and matched in his eyes, “The young one knows nothing of the trouble she’s causing, this is business well beyond her understanding,”

A threat. A call for a challenge. A taunt for her to show what she hid from the world, what festered inside her this whole time. What he had seen with a single touch of her wrist the first day they’d met in the museum.

There is a darkness in you.

And then it was that night all over again. It was the screaming, it was the pure, visceral hatred she had felt for him, for the man that had put her there. It was knowing she was never going home, that she was never going to see her sweet niece grow up to run rings around her teachers. It was knowing her brothers wished for nothing to do with her. It was knowing every one of her letters went unanswered.

And chaos, oh there is chaos,

It was remembering Grace’s laugh through a sob and the fact she would never hear it again. It was the way the light from the abandoned hotel sign next door lit up her room with red, something she had always hated, she could never sleep for the brightness of it. Then again, she struggled to sleep anyway. It was the red of the shoes the girls wore, the other girls, the others from the club. The emerald room, the way they watched her dance like a puppet on a string before things truly went wrong.

Something wicked this way comes.

It was knowing her brothers couldn’t stand the sight of her because of him, because of the choices she’d made for him. For love. She wanted to scoff. It was the men that came at night, the ones that she saw in her dreams even now, the ringleader of them all being the one to tell her what a good little lapdog she’d been for him. The one she’d called boyfriend.

It was the knife, it was the blood. It was the body that burned as she’d torched the house in her escape.

And I see you are truly something wicked.

“You know exactly why we are here,” Khonshu cried from behind her, though Harrow took no notice of the call, his mouth twitching to fight off a smirk as he saw the way her chest deflated at the sight of him, knowing he knew her. He knew her, the way Seth knew her.

The way she was terrified even now that Marc and Steven would someday know her.

“Rip his tongue out,” Seth hissed into her ear, chomping at the bit to be let out from the slight control she had over him in front of the Ennead.

“I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice.” Harrow turned solemnly to the gods, the nervousness falling over his face like a performance. “But speak, old master, to the point,”

“Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?” Khonshu accused, Marc’s body being seized by the god’s might. Dove grabbed his wrist in her own when she saw his chest heaving heavier by the moment. The man looked as if he might throw up any second from the weight of it.

“I was in the desert, but if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the nile” Harrow said calmly, his hands weaving together in front of him to solidify the guiltless ploy he was giving, “Khonshu has searched for Ammit’s tomb since he ensnared be into his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia and his-”

“COWARD,” Seth struck her chest with a lightning bolt of fury, the growl drawling from her throat in a volume that made her jump, Marc glancing her way when he felt her fingers clutch him ruthlessly, “Filthy, conniving CRAVEN,”

“Do not trust the word of shamed gods,” Harrow countered, turning to glare at the pair that looked at him helplessly, their chests pounding with the strain of a deity overtaking their vocal chords, “These two are unhinged, as willing as one another to cause destruction in the human world. And as for their avatars themselves,” Harrow huffed, though a smarmy smile shadowed his face as he looked between the two of them, “Well, they are about as unwell as the gods they serve,”

“How do you mean?” Hathor asked, a small frown scrunching her gentle almond eyes.

Harrow considered the two of them, his piercing gaze falling on the young woman first, a hint of malice flicking over his face as he watched her squirm under his ruthless stare, as if waiting for the killing blow, waiting for him to run a sword clean through her sternum. Get it over with, her eyes pleaded, let this be done, shoot me between the eyes and set me free.

“This girl,” He began, her breath catching in her lungs, “She seems innocent enough, what with the crocodile tears and the deer in headlights look about her,” Harrow gave her one last sneer, before turning back to face the gods with a faux woeful look plastered on his face, “But this fawn is in fact the hunter with a loaded rifle. I have seen what she is capable of, the anger and vengeance the tortured soul wishes to unleash on those who stand in her way, the corruption in her heart- it’s no wonder Seth found her suitable for his needs,”

Her mouth had gone dry, she realised as she swallowed roughly, tears burning behind her eyes, she felt Marc staring at her. Fuck. He saw her, he saw right through her. And if he saw her, then what would Marc think of her? What would he see if he were to crack open her muddled little mind and peer in? He would hate her. And oh god, Steven-

Her throat bobbed with a silenced sob, her chin wobbling pitifully.

“And as for him- This is a man who literally does not know his own name.” Harrow continued his onslaught, making Marc clear his throat uncomfortably at the fact his biggest wound was bared open for the taking, the scar that wouldn’t close having salt poured into the crevice. “He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector-”

“LIAR!” Khonshu’s agitated attempt at regaining composure was thwarted by the glisten in Marc’s lost, cocoa eyes that seemed to do nothing but watch as his chest was pried open.

“Employment records under the name Steven Grant,”

“Stop,” This time it was Marc speaking for himself. His voice hoarse from Khonshu’s yelling, yet it was more of a wounded yelp, a plea for mercy from the man who knew everything about him, knew all of his darkest corners, and threw it out in the open for them all to see.

“I have seen him speak to himself-”

“Shut up,” Marc yawped, an animal in a cage yowling for release.

Dove felt the anger begin to rev under her skin once more. Marc had been immovable since the moment she knew him, the moment she saw him in her bedroom stiff as a rock as she’d hugged him. Had rarely shown anything but a cold indifference, if not the occasional smile. He had been the only thing keeping her sane between the entire situation, the one person she trusted to quite literally drag her back from the depths of death a thousand times over. Because, while he was a moody sod most days, it was Marc. And Marc would fight tooth and nail for her.

“I have no idea how many personalities he must possess,” She felt Marc weaken under the hold she had on his wrist, “The man is clearly insane,”

It was happening in slow motion. Just as Marc crumbled into a disheartened sigh, the frustrated tears welling in his eyes, the final chord holding together her growing temper snapped. She felt her vision blacken for a moment, as if she had taken a long blink, which she wished she had in hindsight, she’d read on the internet closing your eyes and taking a deep sigh temporarily relieves stress. Something about giving the synapses a moment to process information. But she hadn’t. And neither did she feel the imposter crawling up her spine the way she did when Seth wanted her body as his own. No this was her, this was her entirely alone.

By the time she had come to, she had taken two quick steps towards the snide man, fingers outstretched for a sharp slap across his high cheekbones when she felt five metal claws hugging her fingertips, the razor edge of each enough to take a sizeable chunk out of his face had she made contact.

But she didn’t. Because no sooner had she gotten an inch away from doing so, her hand was stopped by a cerulean ring cuffing her hand mid air, preventing her from moving in the slightest.

Osiris. His hand held the same bluish-grey energy between his two fingers as he seethed down at his younger brother’s avatar.

“We will not tolerate violence in this chamber,” He bit, forcing the girl to her knees to face him, her head hung to the floor. She felt Marc’s eyes burn the back of her skull, his legs itching to approach, to wrap her up in his embrace, if only to protect her from Osiris’ hate. She chewed her cheek in guilt, when a thought quickly struck her as she looked to her knees ashamed.

Her suit, the one Seth usually donned her in. She was in her suit. She had never summoned her suit before, had steered clear from the fact entirely actually, yet the material was stretched comfortably over her skin as it was all the other times Seth shoved her consciousness aside to make room for his own deeds.

But she had summoned it herself.

“It brings me no pleasure to tell you these are two deeply troubled individuals. Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way he abused me, the same way he aspires to abuse this court. As Seth is preying on a chaos-filled, young woman whose only goal is nemesis. Take action before it is too late,”

Dove tuned him out, her own internal crisis weighing far heavier than the insults Harrow was hurling to her. She had brought out the Hellhound herself. Not as Seth’s puppet or as his doll for toying with but as herself. As a reflection of what she wanted to do to Harrow.

For the first time in almost a decade, her body felt like it was almost her own again.

“Let us speak to Marc Spector. He seems the more reasonable of the two,” Horus ordered, and Marc almost scoffed at them had he not been so hurt by Harrow’s words, not been so defeated by the doubtful looks the Ennead had in their once cold glares now that his illness had been revealed. “Are you unwell?”

It was direct. Inescapable. And yet he didn’t care for their judgement anymore, just the fact she seemed uncomfortable being forced to her knees so harshly, a mongrel forced to sit quietly for a bone.

“I am.” He breathed hoarsely, “I am unwell. I need help. But that doesn’t change the fact that this man is-” Marc could barely finish his sentence without trailing off in angered tears as he glowered at the floor, knowing there was very little he could say to change their minds, “Would you just let her go? Please?”

“This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu-”

“This is not about my feelings, I am not the one on trial here, nor is she. It is him,” Marc seethed at Hathor, Yatzil, who’s pitiful eyes bore into his skin, flaring his anger, god would he just let go of her, look how her head hung low, how her knees pressed painfully into the cold floor, how she was forced to submit, “This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second,”

“He has committed no offence,” Osiris ruled coldly, tired, as if the situation bored him completely. “This matter is concluded.”

And that was it. The bonds that held Dove into low obedience were ripped away from her, her hands finding the floor gently as she stayed there, her head dipped to glare at the stone, the anger ebbing and flowing at her hot face like the banks of the Nile.

“And brother?” Dove’s head perked the slightest amount, though it was not her, but Seth responding to his counterpart on his behalf. She looked up at the god through broken, reddened eyes, a tear glistening on her cheek that she let fall to the ground with no fight. “Cause chaos like this again and you’ll be begging for a ushabti when I’m finished with you,”

With that, the avatars were returned to their bodies with moonlight white eyes, a jolt in every one of their spines, before they began heading back to their portals with not a single word uttered between them. As if Marc and Doves lives hadn’t just been raked out for all to see, all to judge. All to sentence.

Walking past the girl still crumpled in defeat on the floor, her heart too heavy to lift herself, Harrow watched Marc’s angered eyes carefully, a final sneer on his shit-eating expression.

“I’d leash that bitch of yours before she hurts anyone else, Spector,” He murmured, loud enough for the two of them to hear, not loud enough to cause a scene.

Like a dam breaking, her shoulders sank in on themselves, Marc quickly rushing to meet her on his knee, a warm hug wrapping around her where he could, just as she expected.

“Hey come on, we need to go, princess,” Marc whispered to her, and she could do nothing but give a sad nod, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, a sob crawling up her throat that felt even more present when she saw her clawed fingertips staring back up at her, “I’m sorry I tried, I tried to push him down, I-”

“Shhh,” Marc soothed, nosing her hairline, “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault,” He murmured, hands going under her arms to lift her off the ground carefully. She stood, not without clutching onto him, gently of course since her suit and weapons made it difficult to not hurt him, and the entire idea that she had conjured it herself seemed tainted by the way they had looked at her. The way anyone would look at her if they knew.

“Marc,” A voice whispered, but Dove was too lost in her own self pity to take note. She felt as if she was back on that beach, her eyes lost in a canopy of blue, the wind cold on her skin. Lost in the world, yet seen, too seen, by those gods, by Harrow. Too trapped in her past, in what she’d done, knowing there was nothing stopping what Seth wanted her to do. Feeling for the first time, with the suit around her that she had summoned, she had ownership over herself, feeling as if she entirely wanted nothing to do with it.

Release me, release me from this wretched body, release me from this head, take me from this pain with a quick death.

Yet.

Keep me here, grant me control, let me greet my own demise.

An equilibrium yet to settle. A scale tipping to and fro, a puzzle with no solution. A set of coordinates with no longitude. Continuing. Unanswering. A person missing half their soul.

She, impossibly so, felt worse than she had when she woke up.

She found herself again laying back on the hotel bed, staring at the white, plaster ceiling. After Marc had spoken with Yatzil about a possible solution to finding Ammit before Harrow and his followers, the pair of them had headed back to the hotel in silence. Well, Marc had attempted to make conversation as he led her to the taxi, but it was clear from her lack of response, only broken by the occasional sniff or nod of her head, that she was in no mood to talk.

Taking a deep sigh from her place on the cot, she lifted her hand to run over her tired face when she was stopped by a crusted sap rolled up between her fingers at the touch, and she let out a clear gasp, jumping up from the sheets.

In the daze of it all, she’d forgotten she was covered in blood under her suit that she coaxed into disappearing before the taxi pulled up. Her face, hands, legs, all smeared with the sticky substance that now stained the white duvet.

“Fuck, oh fuck, for bloody fuck sake, fucking shit-” She swore violently, bunching her fingers into fists at the sight, Marc ducking into the room from the small balcony faster than she could let out another curse.

“What’s going on?” He took one look at her sad eyes, the way the redness smattered over her face, guilt flashing in her expression as he saw the mess on the sheets.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll have my guy tip the cleaners, it’s no biggie,” He brushed off, taking a step towards her, attempting to uncurl her fists manually with his much larger hands that had just as much blood on them. Though, it was mostly his from where his wounded knuckles were now weeping. “You should probably take a shower though, we’ll raise too many questions looking like this,”

She barely nodded, eyes glazing over as she understood what he was saying. Clean yourself up, you’re scaring the locals.

“They only have a bath,” She murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes, scratching at the blood that quickly dried on her arms, picking at it like the glue that stuck to your skin as a kid making crafts, coming away in thin, onion peel layers.

“I’m sorry if it’s not the nicest hotel around, but my guy did his best-” Marc snipped slightly, watching her face scrunch up in frustration.

“No, no, not that, it's lovely, I’m just-” She took a deep breath in, her lungs rattling, her throat constricting with the secret she’d never had to tell. He’d think she was ridiculous, a woman of her grown age. “I can’t take a bath,”

“Of course you can, I’ll go run it for you now,” Marc headed for the bathroom, sick of this back and forth. He just needed her clean, needed to get that shit off of her, get rid of that guilty look in her eyes, needed to fix everything-

“No, wait,” She stopped behind him as he turned the brass tap, hot water gushing into the luxurious, square bathtub that had been built into the nude marble, stacks of ‘freebies’ and candles lining the edge. This was definitely meant for a honeymooning couple wanting a sexy week away under the Cairo sun, banging in every room, not two people who were barely friends possessed by gods and racing to stop the end of human lives. “Wait, Marc,”

“What?” He barked, turning back to face her with the first annoyed glare he’d given her all day. She knew the pair of them were at the end of their tethers, and that he was trying to care for her in the way Marc always did, the kind that only half the time involved actual any affection. “Look, I know it’s full of rose petals and shit, but I’m trying, princess,-

“It’s not that it’s-”

“I know it’s shit but it’s the best we’ve got, and I know Steven would have gotten you somewhere better-”

“I’m scared of water, Marc,” He shut up at the sight of her deflated expression looking at him through embarrassment, shut up at the sight of her squirming on the spot at his irritated rant.

“Huh?” He hissed, utterly thrown off by her words, feeling as if he hadn’t heard her correctly, “You’re fine with water, you’ve showered at Steven’s before. Is it me? I can go if you want privacy-”

“No, Marc just stop, please,” She mewled, turning her head to her hands ashamed, picking at the skin that had come loose, no matter if it pained her so. “It’s not you, I- I can’t be underwater, like under under water, not like showering when it’s only there for a second, it’s more drowning than anything, so baths are just a no go,”

But she sounded far away. Because the realisation for Marc had set in, the understanding of being scared to be held down, to feel the water rising up your legs, past your knees, up into your lungs. And then he was back in that cave again, he was feeling the water trickle in, he was screaming for RoRo to talk to him, to take his hand, he was hearing his brother’s little body splashing, hearing the water crowd his throat, drown out his cries for help. He was climbing out of that wretched cave soaked and running back home to tell his parents what had happened.

Taking a laboured breath to remind himself he was in the bathroom, with her picking at her nails, the tap running being the only sound between them for a moment. Sighing heavily, he fought the tears that burned behind his nose, forcing them to be swallowed down in the interest of helping her.

“What if I stayed?” He asked, her head shooting up to look at him in shock, mortified he was being so brazen. Rolling his eyes at her naïveté, he continued, “I’ll turn around and just sit on the toilet seat, but I’ll stay. Make sure nothing bad happens,”

She went quiet for a moment. She needed to get clean, get this forsaken muck off her, it was driving her insane. The smell of it alone, fermenting under the hot sun, was turning her stomach, not including the fact she felt rotten every time she thought about where it came from. Those bodies, that boy.

She nodded, the hot water steaming up the window by the time she’d decided.

“Okay, yeah. I suppose that would be okay,” She murmured to herself, fidgeting nervously. “You’ll just sit right there?”

He nodded gently, his hands coming to pull her fingers from mauling themselves, “Absolutely. Right there.”

“And you won’t look?” She asked shyly, eyes batting up at him through tired lids, to which he smiled slightly.

“Not a peak, now come on, bath’s almost full,” He ducked out of the bathroom to allow her to get undressed, not missing the way her fingers seemed to cling to his hand for as long as possible before he left. “Call me when I can come in,”

“Okay,” She replied through the thickness of the door. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her clothes into a neat pile under the sink, despite the fact they were wrecked with the same red gunk she was going to have to scrub off her skin. Switching the taps off gently with two squeaky turns, she held onto the bath edge with a deathly tight grip. It was only a foot of water, and Marc was right there. He wasn’t here anymore. Bath’s had once been her favourite part of the day. She loved a bath, had never felt so relaxed. She wanted to scream at the way her chest locked up as she stood in the water.

It was piping hot, scalding her skin, and maybe it was the punishment she deserved for all the blood she’d shed. Maybe it was the toll she had to pay to get clean.

Sinking to her bottom, she couldn’t help but clench onto the side of the bath for support, eyes locked on the way the water swayed towards her. It was just a bath, she’d had one millions of times before him, he wasn’t here to-

“You can come in,” She called, conscious of the way her back was to the door, swishing some of the french lavender bubble bath in to make the water milky, obscuring any sight of her body he would have caught a glimpse of.

Not that he would try. Marc was much too respectful for that.

He came in wordlessly, shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air in the bathroom. Plonking himself down on the toilet seat, he saw her hair spill over the lip of the tub edge in his peripheral vision, but little more.

For a moment they were both silent, uneasy at the new atmosphere created. The humid air was thick in their throats, the excuse they gave themselves as to why they weren’t talking. Marc inhaled the sweet vanilla and floral notes of the bubble bath, cursing himself when his mind ventured as to that being what she would smell like all evening.

“I’m sorry the room is so…” Marc trailed off. What was he to say, so clearly meant for two people on a nonestop fuck-a-thon? Aside from the fact the minifridge was stacked with whipped cream and chocolate spread, not for breakfast he’d had to explain to her, the bedside table full of condoms, the bathtub filled with rose petals, it was very obvious they stuck out like two sore thumbs with their rare and short affections in a place like this.

“What? Straight out a porno?” She quipped, earning a short laugh from him, symphonying the splash that came as she began scrubbing at her arms finally.

“A high end porno atleast,” He corrected, the tension in his shoulders loosening when he heard her giggle.

“Right,” She drawled, leaning over to grab the chamomile scented soap, “No one’s getting stuck bent over a tumble drier any time soon in a place like this,”

Maybe it was the fact she couldn’t see him, or it was the least shitty thing that had happened all day, but Marc couldn’t help the way a laugh, a real, chest tightening laugh, spilled out his throat. It was completely out of character for his glacial demeanour, usually the best she’d get is a smirk he’d try to hide or a huff through his nose. But it was a true, amused laugh. She smiled, despite the water coming away pink in her fingers as she scrubbed.

A brief moment passed over them where the only sound came from her hand dipping in and out of the water. This wasn’t so bad, she supposed, if she ignored the way her stomach rolled with bile every time she felt herself slipping further into the water. The milky pool itself wasn’t what scared her, it was the waiting to be pushed under, held under despite her clawing and scratching at his arm. It was his way of keeping her in check, reminding her even in the bathroom she was not permitted to privacy, to her own thoughts. She still felt his hand weaving its way into her hair, shoving her down until the water rushed up her nose, the gasp she’d let out choking on the exotic scented liquid. It was all just another one of his little games, and when she’d resurface, spluttering and clamouring out of the tub, he’d simply laugh and tell her to stop locking the door.

She hated the smell of that soap anyway. Too rich, too perfumed, too fake.

“I used to bath my brothers when I was younger,” She said after a while. She didn’t know why, or what had made her think about it, or why Marc needed to know, but she said it anyway.

“Yeah?” He replied, sounding distant as he picked at the blood under his own fingernails. “How many?”

“Four, all younger,” He blew air out of his cheeks solemnly, “We didn’t have much money, it was just my dad and he could never keep a job to save his life. I tried getting a job but turns out minimum wage for thirteen year olds is pennies,”

Marc stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. He had yet to ever hear her talk about brothers, or parents, or anything other than Steven and how much she wished he was here. That and of course why James Bond is a chauvinist, though he knew the first one was much dearer to her.

“Sounds rough,” He bit out, feeling the need to remind her he was still listening. He saw her shrug from behind the curtain of hair that fell behind her, obscuring his view.

“We got by. I was hungry some nights, but we were happy. They were happy. That’s all I cared about,” Marc felt a guilt gnawing at him. Sure, after RoRo passed his mother became a beast that had yet to release him from her claws, but they had never worried about money. Their house was easily three stories high, he had a meal three times a day, Elias always took him out to buy a new toy when Wendy had been particularly cruel. Birthdays, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, he always had whatever he wanted. Anything, except his mother’s love, but that couldn’t be bought, could never be earned back for what he’d done.

He felt disgusted with himself for being so self piteous about his childhood when Dove had barely afforded to eat at risk of her siblings going hungry.

“I used to get Matty in there first, he was the oldest. Only a couple years between us but he loved when I would give him his toys the others weren’t allowed to play with. We used to have to share everything, clothes, toys, school books, so having his own boat in the tub made him feel special.” A smile, achy but good, passed over her face, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the thought of the life she hadn’t had in so long. “He knew he had to be quick because there was only one tub of water to last all five of us, so we used to play ten rounds of I-spy and then he’d have to get out. Eventually he’d pick the most difficult thing to spy so I’d never guess and he’d get to stay in longer.”

Marc stopped then, watching the back of her head with a silent stare, quickly understanding she was in her own world entirely. “Then it was Sam’s turn, he was a year younger than Matt. He hated getting shampoo in his eyes so insisted I washed his hair for him, even though he made me swear to never tell his friends because it would damage his street cred,” She chuckled to herself, sounding far away from where Marc cracked a small smile, “Kid was seven years old and thinking he was tough enough to take on the world.”

“The other two?” Marc prompted with an ache, a need to know more. More about the little Dove that tended to her hatchlings, to her nest, whose voice sang with something he had never heard from her, a sad kind of happiness he never thought possible.

“Joey was next. He’d start to complain that the bath water was getting cold by this point so I’d sneak some water in from the kettle. He was a little younger than us, I think mom and dad had thought three was it for them. But two years after Sammy, out popped Joey. Fattest baby you’ve ever seen. Refused to speak until he was three, and then suddenly he was blurting out full sentences.” She smirked, eyes glazed over as the pink swirled into the water, beginning to run out of where it dried in clumps in her hair. She would need to wash properly, she realised. Wetting a flannel, she held it behind her, careful not to get any droplets on Marc’s leg. “Marc?”

He snapped out of the reverie he felt he shared with her, his head filled with the image of four little boys, a mirror of her. Maybe their noses were a little bigger, their jaws sharper, but their hair would fall over their shoulders the same way, unless she’d trimmed it for them. He pictured her running ragged after them, reminding them to floss, to tidy their rooms, to do their homework.

“Yeah?” He asked, taking the cloth from her hand.

“Would you be able to get the…” Blood. Blood. Blood. “Stuff out my hair please? I can’t get my head under but it’ll dry soon if I don’t get it now.”

“S-sure,” He said softly, almost caught off guard that she was inviting him to get even closer to her nude form. Setting a towel on the floor, he turned the small bin over to give himself a seat as he gently ran the wet cloth over her locks. He would need to use shampoo probably, there was some on the side of the sink but he refused to push her. “What about the youngest?”

“Micheal,” She said, her voice pure with sweetness. “He was definitely a surprise. Came three months early, came out kicking and squealing like he had a vendetta against the world.” She chuckled to herself. “He was so tiny I could get away with washing him in the kitchen sink. Matty would say we could peel him and put him in a stew with the rest of the potatoes. But he was so good, he would follow me around when I got home from work, even when he turned into a teenager he would never leave for school without hugging me and making sure I had lunch. I never did, but I would lie because otherwise he would worry too much about me,”

The crimson seeped out of her hair with every brush of Marc’s hand against the locks, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up hearing her bliss. She was different like this. Yes, she was usually happy, bar the few times she had gotten teary over the blood and gore, but speaking about her brothers made her glow with something new. A bliss he hadn’t seen in her yet. One he wished he could cling onto with everything he had, keep her wrapped in like a bubble of her happiest memories.

“By the time I got in the bath it was cold, like fully cold. And the water was dirty, I tell you three boys and a baby get into so much mess than I’d give them credit for,” She continued, her eyes fluttering closed at the way he gently stroked her head, stopping every once in a while to re dampen the flannel in the water. There was no way he could see anything since the soap had made it so cloudy, but she didn’t think she could find herself to fully care with how loose her body felt, floating under the heat. She found herself trusting him enough to lean back into his hold, relax under his touch instead of flinch. Because it was just Marc. And Marc would never do that.

She tipped her head back to give him an easier access to her scalp, sighing when his fingers seemed to pick at a clump, removing it manually when it wouldn’t release with the cloth alone. Her stomach flipped as to a guess as to what it could have been.

Flesh? Brain matter? You tore those men to pieces like the savage you are, it’s no wonder Osiris said the people were scared of you, you’re beastly, disgusting loathsome creature who deserves every bit of pain Seth gives you-

“Four brothers and a father? You and your mother must have been ripping your hair out in testosterone,” He said, gently smoothing the tangles out of her tresses, continuing to wipe at the tangles until the water ran clear.

“Just me. Mom ditched when Mikey was born,” She said calmly, though she felt his hands stutter as she did. “It’s fine. She believed that giving her son’s biblical names meant god couldn’t see her drug benders. I think she forgot her kids could though,”

Marc hesitated. Words, some that he couldn’t fathom putting together, caught in his throat. He hated the pity people would give him whenever he were to divulge his own secrets he kept hidden in the dark rooms of his mind even Steven had no access to.

“Please say anything except I’m sorry, otherwise I may have to give you a big wet slap across the mouth,” She quipped, relieved when she heard a small snigger, finally. She’d hate to lose that calm, carefree version of Marc she’d had this evening. Hate to scare him off like the spooked rabbit he was, send him racing down into his dark burrow again. “But yeah, it was grisly being the only girl until Billie was born,”

“Billie as in another brother?” Marc asked with a confused frown.

“Billie as in my niece,” She replied, making a gentle start to clean the gummy resin off her face, “She was named after Billy Joel when Matty lasted all of one week being sixteen and got a girl pregnant. Girl bailed on the kid as soon as she was born, Matty felt like he could do a better job of it than our dad could, and Billie was family. Although she somehow got it in her head that she was only allowed to listen to Billy Joel since that’s where her name came from,” She snickered, remembering the countless mornings she chased the naked toddler as she screamed ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’.

“How old is she?” Marc asked, the water running mostly clean now, yet his gentle pawing at her hair had yet to stop, more for his own state of mind now than her own. She was so soft, soft everywhere. Even the way she sighed into his touch, the few times his fingertip had met her neck, met the top of her spine. Soft, warm; inviting, addicting. Clean, good, pure, god she was heaven on earth. Fixed, he could fix it, fix her hurts.

“She’s…” Dove quickly counted in her head, coming up with a thick throat when she figured the answer. “Nine. She’ll be nine now,”

Nine. She’d missed so much of her little life, she’d barely been at school when she’d left home. Missed her losing her first teeth, missed her learning to ride a bike, missed moving to bigger school.

She’s better off without me. Dove chided sourly, though tears built in her eyes.

“You see her much?” He prompted, letting the short bout of silence settle over them as she rinsed her face carefully.

“No, I uh-” She cleared her throat, her head tilting down to play with her fingers, picking with her thumb nail under the rest, “My brother’s don’t speak to me anymore,”

Marc froze. This, unlike the other time he’d been ready to apologise, felt like dangerous territory. While her mother walking out had felt like passing news to her, this felt like a rope unwinding thread by thread, getting ready to snap in his face at any point.

“Oh,” He eventually came up with, stuck between wanting to ask more and wanting to keep his distance. A tug of war between himself and wondering what she wanted him to do. What Steven would do. “How come?”

“Just you know, life got in the way. We all said some things, did some things,” She sniffed, her eyes closing as she skirted around the truth, “Truthfully I don’t deserve their forgiveness even if they did want to talk,”

“Come on now,” Marc reasoned, his eyes filling with a softness only she saw, his fingertips caressing her scalp with a gentleness he didn’t know his battered hands could muster. “I’m sure that’s not true,”

“It is,” She cut him off definitively, “I think, sometimes, maybe I was just born wrong. Like I just came out the womb rotten. Like I deserve the way the gods looked at me today, like I’m every bit as revolting as Harrow says I am,”

“Hey,” Her head flicked over her shoulder at the anger in his tone. She hadn’t meant to spill, hadn’t meant to overflow her brain like that, have the words jump right out her throat. Maybe she was too relaxed here. She expected judgement, or disgust, or pity. But no, Marc just looked pissed. “That is not true, do you hear me? Everything he said about you is wrong,”

“But if he’s wrong, then why does all this happen to me? Why does it happen if I don’t deserve the badness?” She asked him quietly, because Marc knew all the answers. Marc knew everything, always knew what to say even if he didn’t realise it.

He took in her damp, clean face that stared up at him in naive grace. Her eyes gazed right up at him into his soul, seeing past every defence he had tried to throw up against her, everything unintimate between them gone as she soaked away the blood.

“Sometimes these things just happen to people. Sometimes there is no deserve,” Marc said after a moment to chew on his words. His hands cupped her face gently, her eyebrows furrowing as his thumb wiped the wetness from her cheek that rolled down in a couple glistening bubbles. “You are amazing, do you hear?”

She was silent.

Marc, in what was possibly the most tender thing he’d done since he’d first met Layla, slowly leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, a held breath exhaling on his clavicle, cold unlike the warmth of her cheeks.

He drew back, the scent of french lavender and vanilla invading his lips, tasting sweet on his tongue.

And yet the pit of guilt only sank in Dove’s heart at the gesture. The pit that devoured her every second of every day. She didn’t deserve his kindness, his sweet words or his saccharine kisses. Marc would hate her if he found out what she was, who she was. If he knew the reason she left home, left her brothers.

If he knew she was a murderer.

MCU

@blackcat420---69

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nyctophiliq · 5 months

Note

ur so funny 😭😭 i’ve been stalking ur blog for like 49 mins now… PLEASEEE do sum valeria x reader like

…

reader is part of the anti society or wtv and breaks into reckless railways bc they want the medallion or they js wanna talk sum sense into valeria

maybe angst or smut? 🗣️🗣️🗣️

anywho… ur so funny hope u see this! 🤭

✮ ┆ ” I CAN’T, YOU KNOW I CAN’T. ” valeria (fortnite)

based on the requests above. CONTENT WARNING. 18+ only, minors dni. SUGGESTIVE CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, age-gap, kissing, making out, reader is tied up, angst, pet names, reader begs valeria to run away with her | ~0.9k word

A/N. I’M SORRY HAHA, but i was leaning on more of the angst and putting some suggestive stuff in it because never can leave the smut out of it. enjoy !!!

to convince a woman with ambitions like valeria to drop everything that the society had to offer and leave the island. it was truly something out of a fairy tale, you thinking that talking would be enough to convince her.

“she will never give up her money, her medallion, or the society.” hope said to you, countless times.

the one little detail that you forgot to mention was that you were gonna leave with valeria if she agreed.

you didn't want to wait, in your eyes if the other shoe was gonna drop and valeria would be killed the underground was gonna become just like the society. power-hungry people, with bloodshot eyes, and out for revenge rather than seeking justice.

you sighed, eyes fixated on the woman in front of you, adjusting her sunglasses as she murmured something to her guards before all of them exited the room. valeria finally turns around, her eyes fully on you rather than just running over your features. you could feel the heat rising to your face, suddenly feeling very exposed as you tried to gather up your thoughts, words failing you as you fumbled with what to say.

valeria hums softly, an amused smile spreading across her lips. "it's been a while," she starts, eyes scanning over the rest of you quickly.

"i know." you reply softly, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt behind your back nervously, waiting to see if she'd continue. valeria sighs, leaning back against the wall behind her and crossing her legs. "what are you doing here?" she asks, voice low, almost like a purr. it was no mystery to either of you, your differences were too obvious and that's what kept the two of you far away from each other, but sometimes you found a way back to each other.

"a lot of things." you shrug, biting down on your bottom lip nervously. "and some that don't matter." you add quickly, glancing back at valeria who was smirking, watching you. she didn't even have the decency to be embarrassed about what you said, instead finding amusement at your awkwardness.

"yeah?" she replies, her voice laced with mischief as she pushes herself away from the wall and takes a close step to you, arms folded casually. her gaze was burning into your soul as she spoke, and you couldn't help but look away, heat creeping onto your cheeks again as you stared off into space, wondering how you could possibly make this conversation less uncomfortable.

"i came because i wanted to see you." you said, trying to ignore the way she slowly started to circle you like a predator its prey. her coat slowly slipping off her shoulders before she tosses it on the desk behind you, now completely out of your eyesight. "and I want to get out of here, with you." you mumble, shifting uneasily as her hand comes to rest on the small of your back, fingers digging slightly into your flesh. the ties on your wrists feel tighter than when they were first forced on you, now hurting and itching as they dug into your skin.

"you expect me to go with you, cariño?" she laughed, her breath tickling your ear as she spoke. you bit your lip anxiously again, turning slightly to face valeria. her hands still resting firmly on your back, making you unable to look anywhere else but her face. she smiled warmly at you, eyes flitting from your eyes to your mouth before she leaned forward slowly, pressing her lips softly to yours.

oh how you missed kissing her, the warmth of her parting lips and the burning sensation of lust that tinted her kisses. it was all too addicting, all too filled with emotions that it was far easy for you to understand that she was rejecting your proposal of running away together. valeria had always been stubborn like that, refusing to change her mind no matter what happened or how much it pained you.

"please..." you both know not what you're pleading for when you push against her lips. Is it that she should come and flee with you, find a place where you two can live happily ever after free from the burden of resentment that the remnants of this life may harbor against you? was it so that she could offer you her undivided devotion one last time before you gave up on the notion of the ideal life you had told her about?

the binds around your wrists loosen, falling to the ground with a small thud and she appears in front of you. valeria presses her forehead against yours, her soft lips ghosting against yours softly until you pull her closer, deepening the kiss slowly. she pulls you up from the chair, her hand catching yours and wrapping them around her neck before wrapping her arms around your waist.

"come with me, run away with me..." you sob against her lips, trying to keep up with her pace as she backs you up against the desk, pushing you up on it.

you could barely hear anything beyond the pounding of your heart and the frantic beating of your pulse, a piece of her telling you no followed by some idiotic excuse. it was getting hard to breathe though, and you knew she could tell as she stopped moving, holding your face between her palms to stare at you. you felt your head spinning as you watched her eyes dart to your lips, and then up to your eyes again.

"i can't, you know i can't."

#📗 — written by moss !#fortnite x reader #fornite valeria x reader #valeria x reader #fortnite valeria #valeria fortnite x reader #fortnite valeria x female reader #fortnite valeria x you

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looking4userthatworks · 9 months

Text

If you where Miles cannon interest

● you guys met at Brooklyn Middle you had just moved there and he was there to show you around you guys quickly clicked you had same interests

●you'd guys draw together eat lunch together and hanged out together and you two had a comfortable amount of classes together!

●you two where inseparable❤️

● you even started to gain feelings for the little goober like he's so boyfriend material he sweet funny creative...attractive 👀

●...that was until he switched to visions academy every thing changed

●You guys still hanged out just less frequent because he was busy with all his new class not to mention the amount of homework

●when it got to much he'd sneak out and hang at your place

●Miles gets beaten by the spider you where the second person he'd call of course you couldn't pick up cause you where still in school

●anyways the event of into the spider verse occurred and it didn't take you long to figure out he was spider man (ether that or he couldn't handle the stress and told you)

●and he tells you everything Peter B Parker Spider noir Peter Porker Peni Parker and..Gewn

●He told you about her so much it felt like you weren't even there like hellooo?

● Miles doesn't see a problem with this (he's a very blind man) so he just continues not even noticing how your borded to death rn not to mention emotionally hurt 💔

●it's been like 2 years ever since the whole spider man gig and itsv events and think where going great( no really they weren't🥰)

●you and Miles friendship was getting testy with the whole spider man thing going on not to mention when you guys do end up having time to hang out there's always got to be a way to involve Gwen

[Your Name]: Hey Miles what do you think about my drawing? I thought since you talk about Gewn SO MUCH- I'd draw her off your description!

Miles: Pfftt who me??- You got her hair wrong by the way its way pinker and a bit more shorter

● yeah that basically how things go

Fast forward

●Your at the Moralez's party

●you great Jeff and Rio (you've known them long enough to call them by there first name SUCK IT GWEN-) and you notice someone you haven't meet before but sure as hell know who it is Gwen Stacy in the flesh

Jeff and Rio notice you looking at them hanging out

Rio: you know she look old enough to vote

[Your name]: Gwen Stacy in the flesh... wow

Rio: you know her?

[Y/n] no and yes in a way? Miles told me so much about her I practically met her

Jeff: huh you know funny enough I think I have the urge to say hi to them-

[Y/n] it's fine Jeff- but just in case I'll go check up on them

You head up to them Miles see you coming and trues to act normal

[Y/n]: Hey Miles! And I assume you must be?

Gwen: Gwen my names Gwen (as if you didn't know already)

[Y/n]: Gwen well I'm [y/n] Miles best friend actually um- How'd you two meet ?

Gwen: Visions Academy! We-

Rio: Hello I'm Miles's mom! We found this in Miles room so I assume you must've been in there.

Anways after that whole scene Miles run off to find Gwen or whatever blah blah blah

Meanwhile your just worried

in the end you just hope he knows what he's doing

Blah blah blah

Miguel shows Miles the whole web of destiny thing and tell him that he messed up both of his cannons actually 😨

Your and Miles where supposed to be together but since the whole itsv thing happened and he met Gwen that changed...

And miles is like Me??? Liking Gwen your crazyy like everyone doesn't know they like each other

So not only is his dad gonna die but so is his best friend 🤭

(Not only that your gonna die sad bc you know that he'll never love you!!!🤗)

(No but seriously let me know if you want me to go more indebt about this by rebooting this and taking me in it bc I'm on the website ver and I can't read messages 💔)

Have a lovely jubbly day my customers 🫡

#spiderman astv #atsv fic #astv headcannons #miles x y/n #miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv x you

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eggsaladstain · 1 year

Note

I just love the way you write, so gonna pick your brain here: why do you think people are so drawn to Darklina? Is it the tragedy of it? The gothic aspect to it? The darkness (funnily enough) of it? Or is it just the chemistry between the actors? Thoughts?

hi anon, thanks for reading and thanks for the ask! i've been sitting on this for a bit because i don't really ship darklina and thus don't have many thoughts about them but then once i started thinking about them i couldn't stop so here we are.

i can't speak for anyone else but for me personally what i love about this pairing is the tension and symbolism and the epic two-halves-of-a-whole vibe they've got going on and there are also some interesting parallels between darklina and kanej, so despite not actively shipping it, i genuinely think it's one of the most interesting ships in the entire grishaverse and certainly the most complex and complicated relationship alina has.

i'll talk about both the books and the show because i think they each do a good job showing different aspects of their relationship, and i actually kind of think you need to take the books and show together to get the complete picture of this compelling if ultimately doomed ship.

please know, anon, that when i opened this ask, i had planned on a pretty short answer and then i ended up writing 2k words about this because yes, apparently i do have thoughts and yes, that is a threat.

let's dive in.

at its core, darklina is about the attraction and balance between opposites. he summons shadows, she summons light, they're two sides of the same coin, they're made for each other! but then we find out that the darkling is actually manipulating alina, that he's the one who created the fold, that he's her enemy, and instead of sinking the ship, it actually makes it even better because you get that added tension and forbidden attraction between good and evil, between the hero and villain.

in the books, their relationship goes from romantic to adversarial to the mutual understanding that they have a connection to each other that they will never have with anyone else. for all its faults (and there are many), the original trilogy does a fantastic job fleshing out alina's relationship with the darkling and showing the love, the animosity, and above all else, the undeniable pull between them. we really get a sense of alina's acute loneliness and desire to belong somewhere, not just before she discovers her powers, but even after she comes into her power and learns that despite her new tribe with the grisha, she's still different, she's still ultimately alone. it's no wonder then that she would be so drawn to the darkling, who understands her loneliness, who gives her the attention she craves, who looks at her like she is something special. even after she finds out the truth about him, she continues to reach for him through their tether because despite the manipulation and lies, he is still the only one who truly understands the weight that she carries, he is still the only one who truly sees and embraces the darkness within her. he's her mirror image, reflecting not only her capacity for good and her desire to save ravka, but also showing her her darkest desires and instincts.

their relationship doesn't have nearly as much nuance in the show, and i get it, they only had a limited number of episodes, but the decision to turn darklina into a one-sided obsession on the darkling's part in season 2 was a big misstep in my opinion. in the books, their relationship is built on a mutual longing between both of them and even when alina finally kills him, she still grieves for him, says his name, and sees him through his final moments so he's not alone at the end. i've written before how much i love the subversive ending of ruin and rising and i especially love the closure we get in the relationship between alina and the darkling. it's a pyrrhic victory, not a triumphant one, and the darkling's death is very much a loss for alina. she does not kill him because of vengeance or to save the world, she kills him as a mercy, to put an end to his relentless suffering. the final book also acknowledges, crucially, that while the evil is ultimately defeated, this evil was not some monster or demon but a flesh and blood man, a boy.

in the books, alina is in her late teens and while the darkling is centuries old, he looks to be only a few years older than her. i understand why they chose to age up the characters on the show and ben barnes is fantastic as the darkling, but the fact that they were visibly closer in age in the original trilogy means there was less of an overt power imbalance between them because while the darkling was still the leader of the second army, he was also a bit more approachable due to his appearance of youth. not only that, their relationship in the books has an innocence that it doesn't really have in the show because a 17 year old girl being friendly and flirting with a 20 year old boy is fundamentally different from a 25 year old woman pursuing a relationship with a 39 year old man.

a younger darkling is also SO much more tragic, especially since his entire character can be summed up in this absolute banger of a quote from ruin and rising: in this moment he was just a boy - brilliant, blessed with too much power, burdened by eternity. the tragedy of the darkling is that he was forced to bear the burden of his power and persecution when he was just a boy and he had to continue bearing that burden for centuries, and it's so much more tragic to see a life cut short at 20 vs 40 because of that innocence that we associate with youth, even if that youth is an illusion and even (and especially) if that innocence is a lie. the tragedy of the darkling is that he had so much power but at his core, he was just a lost, lonely boy, and it makes him a much better foil for alina because, had she not lost her power in the books, she may have gone down the same path and that quote could have just as easily applied to her.

now, having said all this, the show, for all it faults (and there are also many), does a much better job (more so in season 1) of humanizing the darkling. part of that is just due to the books being written in alina's POV, meaning we never really know how the darkling actually feels, so being able to see the darkling's actions and motivations through a more objective perspective in the show goes a long way in fleshing out his character. the other part is, of course, ben barnes and the way he highlighted the tragedy in the darkling's story and tried his best to elevate the character above a typical villain, despite the season 2 script doing him no favors. in the books, we only see the darkling through alina's lens so we don't ever truly know how he actually feels about her, but the show makes it very clear that the darkling's feelings for alina are real. maybe it starts out as manipulation, but the power imbalance between them very quickly turns in her favor as it becomes clear that he needs her, desperately, in a way that she doesn't really need him. alina may have felt lonely for 20-some years of her life, but for the darkling, it's been centuries. it's centuries of loss and persecution that have made him who he is, and it's no wonder then that he would be drawn to alina, a literal light in the darkness, and see her as his salvation.

as i mentioned earlier, the show makes their relationship much more one-sided with the darkling refusing to let alina go, even after she hurts him, even as she hates him. in their final confrontation after the fold, he knows she is there to kill him, but when his nichevo'ya has her by the throat, he tries frantically to stop it because in spite of everything he's done, all the atrocities he's committed, the one thing he will never do is kill her. he certainly doesn't deserve a pat on the back for this and his behavior towards her is objectively bad and creepy, but it also shows just how all-consuming his desperation is. after centuries of searching, he has finally found someone who is like him, and he cannot bring himself to give her up, no matter the cost to himself, no matter the cost to her. it's incredibly selfish, but it's also achingly human.

in the books, we don't really see this desperation until the end of ruin and rising when alina loses her power and the darkling realizes that he is now truly alone, that he has no longer has an equal, and alina herself realizes that his pain will be endless. in the show, we see this theme - his desire and his need for her - woven throughout his interactions with alina from the very beginning, culminating with her death at his hands, albeit under very different circumstances than the book.

this is why i say that the books and show complement each other when it comes to darklina - with the books, you see how alina was drawn to the darkling and how she genuinely cared for him in spite of everything, and in the show, you see how the darkling was drawn to alina and how desperate he was to save her from following in his footsteps.

there's even a set of complementary quotes that perfectly encapsulate why this ship is so compelling and why it's so doomed.

in ruin and rising, you have the darkling saying you might make me a better man and alina answering and you might make me a monster.

and in 2x08, you have the darkling saying let me be your monster. let me carry the hatred of this world. who will be there to save you? and alina answering, i will save myself.

the allure of darklina is that it's about finding the one person who makes you feel less alone, the one person who can save you and destroy you in equal measure, the one person who sees and accepts you as you are, even the worst parts of you.

the tragedy of darklina lies with the darkling, because he is driven by pain and loss and the desire to escape both of those things. this is a man who will never allow himself to love someone more than he fears the pain of losing them, and he only allows himself to love alina because he believes he will never lose her to the ravages of time, he only allows himself to love her because he thinks he will be safe from pain with her. now compare him to sankta neyar, another character who has also lived and lost for centuries. as i previously wrote about here, the darkling views love as a weakness while neyar views it as a strength, and it is because of this (and, you know, the atrocities) that he ultimately loses alina. and despite how much alina resists him, the darkling is unable to let her go, unable to stop himself from trying to save her, even when she makes it clear that she does not want or need him to do so. the tragedy of darklina is that this is the only way he knows how to love her.

now, let's look at kanej, which has more than a few similarities with darklina. much like the darkling and alina, kaz and inej also have twin traumas, they also understand each other in a way that no one else does, they have also seen and accepted the worst parts of each other. like calls to like applies to them just as much, and even the r&r quote fits them perfectly as inej does make kaz a better man and kaz does make inej a monster. in six of crows, kaz tells oomen, who stabbed inej, my wraith would counsel mercy but thanks to you, she’s not here to plead your case and in 2x08, we see kaz offering to buy out kesh and any other indentures after inej asked him to consider it in 1x01 (gifset here). and it's kaz who teaches inej to kill, who gives her the tools she needs to survive in the barrel, culminating in her vicious threat to pekka rollins at the end of crooked kingdom and her declaration that they destroy him in 2x03 when she finds out pekka killed kaz's brother.

kanej is such a great foil for darklina because where darklina said you might make me a better man and you might make me a monster, kanej said we will make each other better, and we will be monsters together. kaz and inej each put in the effort to overcome their respective traumas in order to be together and they each do violent, unsavory things in order to protect the other, and despite the fact that both crooked kingdom and 2x08 end with inej leaving, it's clear that the two of them will find their way back to each other in time.

alina doesn't end up making the darkling a better man, though on the show, she does become a monster, for mal by using merzost to bring him back, and for ravka, by using the shadow cut to kill the fjerdan spy. it's a really fitting evolution of her character on the show and the natural progression of her relationship with the darkling, that she would defeat him only to become him in the end.

as i said at the top of this, i don't actively ship darklina, but i am fascinated by the tension and complexity of their relationship and i love how the book canon and show canon build on each other to give us a complete picture of these two individuals who are so similar yet so different at the same time. they're parallel lines who will never cross. they're the sun and moon who can never share the same sky. they're the perfect tragedy.

#darklina #darklina meta #kanej #kanej meta #shadow and bone meta #sab meta #shadow and bone #grishaverse #the darkling #alina starkov #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #sab season 2 #ruin and rising #six of crows #crooked kingdom #meta #answer

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enid-rhees · 10 months

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Ooh, okay so imagine reader and Enid were friends before the apocalypse right? Readers parents die during the apocalypse, and ends up joining Enid and her parents. Skip to the part where Enid's parents die :(. Reader is there with her and they make their way all alone together till' they reach Alexandria and meet Carl :).

aaaaa i love this !! i have a slight vision for this and i’m gonna try my best to replicate it into writing 😭 i hope you enjoy 🩷 i also kinda misread the req a little bit in the beginning so i apologize for that 😭😭

warnings: death, bit descriptive of her parents death. also the turtle scene

also there’s a slight bit of slow-burn :)

a/n: hope you all enjoy! i have quite a bit coming out within the week so look out for all of those :D

a shaky sob left your lips as you stared down at the two dead bodies below you. chunks of flesh taken out from both of their necks.

the walker who did the damage laid dead next to them as well, a clean gunshot right through its head.

in that moment, you knew this was it. the end. how are you meant to survive this alone? when you’re this young and helpless enough?

sobs continued to rack through your body. your hands shook excessively, the gun still in your right hand.

branches started to crack behind you, you whipped your body around and held the gun up, holding it with both hands, but it still didn’t stop the shakiness in your hands.

three strangers froze in their place. a man, a woman, and a younger girl, she looked around your age. a family.

they all put their hands up immediately at the sight of a gun being pointed at them. “we’re not gonna hurt you.” the man spoke hesitantly. he slowly put his hands down.

he stepped closer to you, but you kept the gun up. “kid, it’s okay.” he spoke again. he looked down at the dead bodies, “are these… your parents?”

you sniffed, “they got bit. i-i don’t know what to do.”

the man turned to the woman and the girl. they stepped forward, standing next to the man. the man and woman turned to each other, silently communicating.

he turned back to you, “would you like to stay with us? we have a car, and gas… and food. you’ll be safe with us.”

you lowered the gun. “i know that we can’t prove you can trust us, but you can. we’ll keep you safe.” he added. he then pointed to the girl, “this is Enid. our daughter. what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeated, “we can keep you safe. if you want to come with us. it’s up to you.” he offered. you looked between the three of them. nothing about them screamed that they had bad intentions. they’re just trying to make it through the apocalypse, just like you.

“i’ll… i’ll go with you.” you said quietly.

“okay, kids, keep an eye out for walkers while we refill the gas tank.” Enid’s dad instructed the two of you. you both nodded and stood up on the side of the car so you could see over their heads.

it had now been over a month since Enid and her family took you in with them. they proved themselves right, they did everything to keep you and Enid safe.

you and Enid got along quickly. you had the same interests; comics, same favorite shows and movies. Enid was easy to talk with, and you felt very comfortable with her. you found comfort in Enid.

while her parents worked together to refill the tank, the two of you kept an eye on every area around you, watching out for walkers.

“mom, dad.” Enid spoke. “there’s two coming.” you looked over to where she was looking, and saw the two walkers slowly approaching her parents. your heart dropped slightly just at the sight of one. “guys, you should get back in the car.” you told them.

“we’ll only be a few more seconds guys, we’re fine.” Enid’s mother said, her sweet voice filled with not even an ounce of worry. you wanted to pull out your gun but you couldn’t, it would just attract more walkers.

the walkers only got closer and your heart increased in speed by a lot, “guys!” you yelled. “get back in the car!”

“mom! dad-“ Enid started to yell, but the walkers had already gotten to them. Enid screamed out as you both ran to get them, but they had already taken chunks out of their neck and collarbones. blood spilled everywhere as the walkers didn’t stop feasting.

you pulled Enid back into the car and locked the doors. she pressed her hands the window, watching her parents get eaten as she sobbed.

you couldn’t bare to look at it. the memories of what happened to your parents came flooding back.

“Enid,” you choked out. “don’t look, come here.” you gently pulled her away from the window and let her fall into your arms. Enid sobbed into your neck as you held her tightly.

you were at a loss of thought. what was going to happen now? how were you and Enid meant to survive like this? you only had each other now.

Enid broke out of your arms, immediately going back to the window. you didn’t try to stop her this time, letting her grieve in her own way. she brought a shaky hand to the dusted glass of the window, dragging her finger across it to write three letters.

you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to make out the letters. jss is what it said.

“Enid?” you asked quietly, unsure of how to approach her just yet. “what does that mean?” she moved away from the window and turned around to face you.

“just survive somehow.”

you stared at her with teary eyes, “we need… to just- survive somehow, Y/N. we aren’t made to live like this, but we need to. together. ” she told you, voice cracking every other word.

“together.” you repeated.

nothing had brought you and Enid closer than being stranded in the woods for weeks on end. all you had left was each other, and not even scraps of food. her knife and your gun too.

you attempted to keep the car until there was no more gas to find. it didn’t last very long, which is how you landed here in the woods like this. dirt covered your entire bodies, your clothes were torn and dirtier than your skin. everything was on its last legs.

your stomach growled for the 8th time in the last ten minutes. it was starting to hurt more than anything, you needed to find something to eat. anything.

“can we stop for a minute?” you asked Enid. she looked around the area before nodding, “come sit over here. behind this tree.” you followed her and sat with her behind the tree.

she started to dig through her bag, looking for any water or food. you looked through yours too, but had no luck.

“got anything?” you asked. she shook her head. you sighed, “fuck.”

“we’ll find something.” she reassured you. her hand lightly brushed over yours, and you swore you could’ve felt a slight spark. but maybe it was the hunger was getting to you.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the tree. Enid pulled out a wrinkled comic, flipping through the pages mindlessly until you felt better to start walking.

small footsteps danced around your ears. you opened your eyes and started to look for whatever was making that noise. it caught Enid’s attention as well. “what is that?”

“i don’t know,” you told her, pulling your gun out from your pocket. you both continued to look out for whatever might come your way, and then a small turtle walked slowly in front of the two of you.

“it’s… a turtle.” you said, “that’s what was making that noise. a literal turtle.” Enid stared at it for a long moment, “lets kill it.”

your eyes widened, “what?”

“we need food, Y/N!” she hissed out. “you’re close to starving and i’m about to be as well. remember what i told you?”

you nodded, “…just survive somehow.” you whispered. “this is how, Y/N. i know that this is cruel as fuck, but we need to survive.”

“okay.” you told her. Enid pulled her knife out and grabbed the turtle off the ground. it ducked its head into its shell when she did so. she took a deep breath before slicing right into it. you winced and turned away from her.

“here,” she spoke. you turned back to her, and she held out a handful of the turtles bloody meat. you were hesitant, but took it out of her hands.

you stared at it for a moment, almost feeling nauseated. but that could’ve been the starvation for all you knew. you took a deep breath and ate it, grimacing at the feeling of it in your mouth.

it made you feel slightly better though, the ache in your stomach had gone down. you didn’t hesitate this time in taking more of the turtle. blood stained your hands and mouth, but you couldn’t care anymore. you were far too hungry to care about any of this now.

when you and Enid finished, Enid started to rearrange the bones of the turtles. you watched her as she did so. she connected them into letters, and you realized soon after she had spelled out ‘jss’ once more.

she picked up your dirt and blood covered hand, and started to trace the same exact thing onto your fist. then she did it to herself.

this was how it was going to be now; keep repeating ‘just survive somehow’ until something happens. death, or a fucking miracle. you just had to keep telling yourself that.

your fingers intertwined with hers suddenly. “lets go.” she said. you nodded and you both stood up. you started to walk through the woods again, your hands not breaking apart from each other.

another month went by and you were still on the road with Enid. at least you think it’s been a month, maybe two, or three. you lost track long ago and didn’t even bother to try and keep up with it.

not much had changed, you were still surviving on scraps you would find anywhere, or a squirrel if you were lucky. it still wasn’t something you could get used to eating, but you had to endure it just to live.

Enid slept peacefully beside you. it was nighttime, so while she slept, you stayed up to watch over incase a walker started to approach. you took turns, so tonight was your turn to stay up.

her head laid on your thigh, her hand resting on it as well. one of your hands lightly touched played with her hair while the other held one of Enid’s comics.

the night was dead silent, and it was unsettling to say the least. you couldn’t see anything either.

you set the comic on your other leg to turn the page and lifted it back up. while you read the page, Enid twitched in her sleep. you didn’t think much of it, as she was still fast asleep on your leg.

but then her fingers gripped the fabric of your pants, and small cries left her lips. you set the comic down, “Enid?” you asked, pushing her shoulder lightly.

Enid didn’t wake, and continued to cry in her sleep. “Enid!” you said slightly louder and shook her shoulder once more.

she jolted awake, looking around her surroundings as she breathed heavily. “Enid, it’s just me.” she jumped at your voice, but relaxed when she turned around to face you. “are you okay? what happened?” you asked.

Enid sniffed and wiped the tears away from her eyes. “it was just a nightmare.” she answered briefly. “do you wanna talk about it?”

Enid shook her head and moved closer to you. she laid her head on your shoulder and placed her legs over your thighs. your heart started to race at how close you were, but you remained calm, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“get some sleep. i’ll continue to watch over,” you told her. she nodded and buried her face into your neck, gripping your shirt tightly in her hand.

you leaned your head down and pressed a kiss to her head, lingering your lips there for a few moments longer.

Enid fell asleep soon after that, leaving you alone with the quietness once more. you drifted off into your thoughts, questioning yourself on why your heart would race ever time she got close to you. every time she held your hand, you felt like you were going to explode. in a good way, of course.

there was something about Enid, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. she was extremely smart. Enid was the one who made the decision of where to go next, and you just followed wherever she went, agreeing to whatever she said.

it was easy to admit now that you didn’t want to ever be away from Enid. you would live happily if she would always be this close to you. meeting her was possibly the only good thing that would come out of this new world.

before you knew it, sunlight was slowly rising. Enid woke again when the sun peeked into trees and flashed into her eyes.

“morning,” you mumbled. she hummed back, still not fully awake yet. “did you sleep okay after your nightmare?” you questioned.

“sort of. i’m fine now, i think.” Enid answered, rubbing her hands over her tired eyes. “we should get back on the road.” she told you. “now? don’t you want to finish waking up at least?”

she shook her head, “it’s best to go now.”

you gathered everything up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. the two of you stood up and walked into the road next to the tall trees. her hand intertwined with yours, almost instinctively.

the only noise that was now heard were birds chirping. although, it wasn’t like it used to be. it was usually louder, but because there were more birds, but now there’s barely any left as well.

it was a sound you enjoyed, but now felt like it was taken for granted. everything felt like it was now taken for granted. you’re so young, you barely got to live and enjoy everything you wanted to experience in life. you were forced to mature when you weren’t supposed to. both of you were.

“you’re spacing out,” Enid pointed out, breaking you out of your thoughts. “what’re you thinking about?”

“everything.” you responded. “i feel like i wasn’t able to appreciate the world enough before this happened.”

“i get it.” she said quietly. “no one saw it coming, so i don’t believe anyone was truly able to appreciate anything.” you nodded to her words.

Enid suddenly stopped in her tracks, and she stared into the distance in front of you. “Enid?” you asked slowly. “what do you see?”

“c’mon.” she said, holding your hand tighter as she started to walk again, not answering your question. you didn’t question any further and allowed her to drag you to whatever she saw.

the further you walked, a gate started to come into your vision. it was makeshift, you could tell.

so it only meant one thing; there’s people alive behind those gates.

Enid stopped walking when you were in front of the gate. on the side, there was a sign that read ‘Alexandria’. you both stared at the gate, not knowing what to do now that you’ve arrived at it.

footsteps could be heard through the gate, and then the metal started to slide open. you backed up slightly, tightening your hand around Enid’s once more.

when it fully opened, 3 people stood at the gate. a short blonde woman, and two taller men on either side of her. they all eyed the two of you suspiciously.

“who are you?” the woman asked. when you went to respond, it felt like something got caught in your throat. you for some reason felt so intimidated by these people.

“Enid. and this is Y/N.” Enid spoke for you. “how old are you?” she asked another question, raising her head slightly. “we’re both sixteen.”

all 3 looked at each other once more. the woman turned back to you after a minute, “come inside.”

you and Enid then shared a look, Enid nodded, so you did too. your hands grip on her didn’t let up as you walked inside and the two men closed the gate.

“welcome to Alexandria. i’m Deanna Monroe, and these are my sons, Aiden and Spencer. i’m the leader of Alexandria.” she held out her hand, and Enid shooks hers first. you had to drop Enid’s hand so you could shake hers as well.

Deanna eyed yours and Enid’s hand when she let go of yours. “usually i’d like to interview whoever comes to that gate, but it looks like you guys need to clean up and rest a while before i do. i could show you to a house if you’re interested. we have electricity and working showers.”

you stared at her blankly for a moment, not sure if what you were hearing was real, and you weren’t actually hallucinating this entire situation.

“that would be great.” Enid answered again. Deanna smiled, “follow me.” Enid took your hand once more, pulling you along with her while you still tried to process everything.

you looked around, all of the houses were huge. there were a few rows of them, and it made you realize that there were more people alive than you thought. if you were being honest, ever since the loss of Enid’s parents, Deanna and her sons are the most people you’ve seen in months.

Enid stopped, and you turned your head back around. you were now in front of another huge house. “the doors unlocked, so you can go ahead and walk in. every sink, and light in that house is working. so don’t be afraid to use anything.”

Enid led the way and you followed with shaky legs. when you walked in and she closed the door, you released a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. every weight was suddenly lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N? you feeling alright?” Enid asked, holding your face in one hand. you got lost in her eyes for a moment, but then you fell into her arms, letting go of her hand so you can hold her tightly. “is this real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“it’s real.” she whispered back. “we’re safe now.” you melted into her arms at that, never feeling more safe than ever. you lifted your head up to face Enid once more.

she smiled softly at you, looking at you with complete adoration. your eyes dropped down to her lips and suddenly, you both started to lean forward.

your lips connected to hers hesitantly. Enid held the back of your head as she kissed back. you pulled away after a short while, and Enid laughed breathlessly against your lips, leaning into you once more.

- 3 Months Later -

Enid cuddled into your side as you held the comic book in front of the both of you. Mikey, a boy you met when you arrived in Alexandria, was playing a video game on the small TV of Ron’s room, the other boy you met.

the four of you are the only teens in Alexandria, you and Enid don’t hang out with them frequently, but occasionally Ron invites you over. both you and Enid preferred staying inside with each other, alone.

it’s been great living in Alexandria. you always had food, and you couldn’t get enough of the hot showers. the first one you took after arriving, you were in there for almost two hours, just engulfing yourself in the heat it provided.

muffled words could be heard from downstairs of Ron’s house, and then footsteps started to ascend up the stairs. the door was pushed open, and Ron walked in with another boy.

he was from the new group that just arrived not too long ago, you didn’t know his name yet, though.

“is this uh, anyone’s comic? i found it.. and read a little bit of it.” the boy spoke. you looked up at him, and realized he was holding a comic that you and Enid misplaced a few days ago. “oh, that’s Y/N and Enid’s. behind you.”

he turned around, shocked that he didn’t see you when he first walked in. you sat up, “thanks, we actually lost that a few days ago.” you chuckled lightly. he handed you the comic, “you’re welcome. i’m uh, Carl.”

“Y/N.” you responded, and then looked back behind you. “and that’s my girlfriend, Enid.” she looked up briefly, and then looked back down at the comic.

you gave Carl a look that said, ‘don’t worry’ when he looked slightly taken aback, wondering if he did something wrong.

“do you wanna play a video game?” Mikey asked Carl. as they got back into conversation, you laid back with Enid. she resumed her position on you, tangling her legs with yours. “home?” you mumbled in her ear.

she looked into your eyes for a moment before nodding. you both stood up and she left first, but you stayed back for a moment.

“me and Enid are gonna go home. it was nice meeting you, Carl.” you told him with a smile. he turned to you, “you too.” he smiled back.

once you left, Carl turned back to Ron and Mikey. “they live alone?” Ron nodded without taking his eyes off the screen, “they like being alone with each other. they rarely come out and every once in a while i invite them over. they just prefer each other over everyone else here.”

“do we have to go to this thing?” Enid grumbled, fixing her shirt in the mirror. “we don’t talk to anyone there. you know we’re just gonna sit in the corner and judge everyone.”

you laughed, “i don’t wanna go either, trust me. but Deanna is forcing us for whatever this reason. i’m honestly not sure why this new group is such a big deal. i mean- Carl’s cool or whatever.”

she shrugged, “yeah. kinda glad he found that comic though.” she said, making you laugh once more. you walked behind her in the mirror, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind.

“you look so pretty.” you said. she smiled slightly. “you’re prettier.” you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. “wrong. lets go.”

you and Enid walked hand-in-hand to Deanna’s house, where she would be throwing a small welcoming party for this new group. when you walked in, music from a CD player was playing one of the rooms, and it was already crowded inside the house.

“this is awful.” Enid mumbled to you. “i know. i promise we won’t stay long.” you walked through the main hallway, looking into the rooms that surrounded you.

“Y/N! Enid!” someone yelled. both of you turned your heads. Ron, Mikey, and Carl were sitting at a table away from everyone, and that all had cards in their hands. “come over here!”

“you want to?” you asked Enid. “for a bit.” she answered. you nodded and the two of you walked over to the table and sat down next to each other.

“surprised you’re actually here.” Ron teased. Enid gave him a bittersweet smile, not amused by his joke. “we’re just playing War. here.” Ron handed you each a set of 7 cards.

you shuffled through them and Carl set down the first card. you went last, and your card was the highest number, only one number higher than Carl’s.

“oh that’s so fucked up.” he whined, and you laughed. “i’m a god at this game, by the way.” you told him. “she is!” Enid groaned, “i can never win against her.”

“we’re gonna go get drinks, guys. want anything?” Ron asked as him and Mikey stood up. the three of you shook your head and they left shortly after.

“wanna continue?” Carl asked, holding up his cards. “yeah, let’s do it.” you all started to place your cards down, and you won for a second time. and a third time.

“how are you doing this?” he laughed, “i’m just that good.” you shrugged. “oh my god,” Enid spoke. “don’t ever play Uno with Y/N. unless you really love losing.”

“oh, nonono. we have to play now. i too am a god at Uno.” you raised your eyebrows in amusement, “really?”

“really. all three of us could play.” he offered. you looked over at Enid, “sounds fun.” she responded.

after Ron and Mikey came back, you all played for another hour before Enid tugged on your shirt, signaling that she wanted to go home.

you walked back to your house and changed out of your clothes to change into a tank top and shorts. when you settled into your bed, Enid cuddled into your side, resting her head on your chest.

“i actually kinda liked Carl.” Enid told you quietly. “he’s actually funny, and quite frankly just better than Ron. Mikey’s okay.”

“Carl is really cool.” you agreed, “he likes the comics we read too.” she nodded against your chest. “i think besides you, he’s the only person i’d really like to spend time with again.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to her head. “i feel the same way.” you mumbled into her hair. Enid briefly connected your lips, “okay, i’m tired. goodnight.”

with one last chuckle, you closed your eyes and leaned your head on hers. “goodnight, sweetheart.”

#enid rhee #enid twd #enid rhee x reader #enid rhee x fem!reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader

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sp00nful0fsuga · 1 year

Text

okay since I'm not a fanfic writing guy- lemme tell y'all about my evil hank au that i wish I could write but probably won't. Questions in my ask box are appreciated to help me flesh out the au and maybe I'll draw the responses? But in short:

Takes place after S7.

Hank decides he doesn't want to go home to a family that doesn't love him after the hospital stay and runs away. He has thought about leaving before because of his father's lack of care for him. He's tired of being #2, being the sacrifice. The point of breaking was seeing that neither his girlfriend (side headcannon: hank being obsessed with girls is because he just wants anyone ever to show him affection. Sirena was no different.) and even worse his brother- the one person he thought he could trust- didn't love him either. Everyone loved Dean. Nobody loved Hank.

The Monarch captures him as a lure for Dr. Venture but Hank tells them he won't come. He doesn't care. He should have captured Dean. He breaks down crying and Sheila comforts him while The Monarch awkwardly goes to make some hot cocoa. Sheila tells Hank he can stay with them for a little bit but then he has to go home.

He never does go home. The first time Sheila told him to leave, Hank came back within the hour crying. He told her he could never go home again. He felt cared for with The Monarch and Sheila, perhaps even loved. They always made sure he was fed and comfortable, and Sheila even listened to his problems just about every night. One night, Sheila suggested Hank consider becoming a supervillain. It might make him feel better. Of course he couldn't arch his father, he belonged to The Monarch. But he could arch Dean. Besides, it was Dean's fault wasn't it?

Hank isn't officially registered as a villain under the guild, but Sheila keeps him out of trouble. The first time he arched he was blinded by anger and jealousy and went all out trying to be intimidating (but not actually hurting anyone). Brock eventually has enough and goes out to talk to him. Hank holds back tears and leaves. Dean is shocked and upset. Rusty is disappointed.

Hank returns home to his new parents. He's dropped the Venture name. He is only Hank now. And Hank couldnt even arch his brother right. Sheila consoles him again and tells him he'll get better over time. She gives him a little monarch pin that he now wears all the time on his Batman sweater.

Eventually Hank gets the hang of it. He and Dean fall into a routine. Hank will swing his bat close enough to Dean to make it look like its gonna hit him. Dean will dodge out of the way just in time. Brock refuses to step in. He can't bring himself to hurt Hank. Every time, Hank leaves disappointed in himself for still being too attached to hurt Dean. Every time, Dean goes to bed crying wondering what he could ever do to make Hank love him again. He misses his brother.

Hank is tired. He misses his brother, too. Maybe if Rusty was out of the picture, he could learn to forgive Dean. The Monarch promises if Hank can capture Dean to lure Rusty, he'll take care of it. Hank succeeds by tricking Dean to come talk things out with him. Hank feels bad, but tells himself its necessary. When Rusty does arrive he has Brock with him. He tells Brock to get Dean back while he distracts the Monarch, even if he has to kill him. Brock refuses.

Hank is still shook hearing this. He's heard his father offhandly tell someone to kill him over Dean before. But the absolute hatred in his father's voice this time hurt worse. Hank slumps to the floor, making it easy for Brock to take back Dean.

"I hate you, Henry. You've changed and I hate the person you've become."

This was the last thing that came from Dean's mouth before he left, leaving Hank feeling more alone and broken than he ever had in his life.

Nothing Sheila or the Monarch say could get Hank out of his room for days. What was the point anymore. Nothing has changed. In fact, its even worse. Sheila feels bad and suggests taking a break.

Dean does not hate Hank. In fact, quite the opposite. He loves his brother so much and can hardly live with himself seeing him like this. He regrets what he said to him. He regrets every little thing he has every done to Hank. He wants him back, and at this point he isn't sure if that will ever happen.

He hates his father. He goes on constantly about how angry he is with Hank. How much he wishes Hank would have just been more like Dean. Dean doesn't think he deserves to be talked about so highly.

Hank decides to do one last arch. He would tell Dean everything and then leave. To where? He didn't know.

Everything was going fine. Dean was dogging his swings like he always did. Hank's swings became more and more aggressive as he talked to Dean. He told him everything. He took all the love from everyone Hank ever cared about. By the end Hank's eyes were clouding with tears.

Dean shouts at Hank. He loves him. He never wanted this to happen. He never wanted Hank to feel like this.

Hank knew it was a lie.

He swung. Hard.

He heard a thump.

After wiping the tears from his eyes, he could finally see clearly. In front of him was Dean, laying in a pool of blood coming from his head.

He wasn't moving.

Hank broke down. He called for Brock.

As soon as he saw Brock coming, he ran home.

Hank didn't sleep that night.

The next day there was a knock at the door. Brock came to tell Hank that Dean was actually alive and in a coma, but he wasn't sure if he'd stay like that. Hank refused to see him the first day. He couldn't stand the guilt.

Hank went the next day alone. He needed to at least apologize. By the time he got there he realized he wouldn't be leaving. Not until Dean woke up.

Hank spent the next few days at the hospital feeling miserable and talking to Dean and breaking down.

I don't have much fleshed out for when Dean does wake up. But they definitely make up dw.

Ummm I will accept and encourage questions in my ask box it will help me develope things !!!

#hank venture #the venture bros #venture bros #text post #dean venture #vbros au #villain hank

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lavenderangeline · 11 months

Text

She who holds the spirits

TW:NSFW content

Chapter 7 Horror or spice?

The atmosphere lightend as they talked a little. But still… Anna and Yamato felt so hot that it was almost dangerous being in one room together. Both leaned back as they watched the woman getting chased through the woods, howling echoes through the trees. Their minds don´t focused on the woman who almost gets ripped to shreds by the werewolf.

Anna sits on Yamatos lap, both are blushing, seemingly focused on the movie but in reality their heavy breathing betrays their intentions. The sounds of the movie giving an weird contrary to what is acutally happening as the room darkens by the dissapearing sun. The red haired woman could feel the warm breath of her teammate, partner and best friend in the crook of her neck as he began to rub her hips on his hard cock. Almost like being hypnotised watching her hips making circles on her own. Feeling how wet she was as her pussy juice sunken its way to his boxers. Realization hitting, knowing she´s so wet only because of him, he lets out a silent, yet breathy moan. “Fuck- Anna… you´re so wet.”, he breaths. She presses her hips more on his to build up the tension. “Sorry, i really can´t hold my body back when it comes to you.” Yamato is about to loose his conscious mind and just fuck her here and now if he would give in into the impulse of nature. Leaning back onto the wall he lets slide his thick fingers under Anna´s shirt, looking at her head which turns. Her pupils form into cat like eyes, slightly glowing. It has something animalic that, if Yamato would be honest to himself, turns him on. Her smirk dissapears as Tenzo begins to massage her breasts, going into straight moans and if he wouldn´t bit her in the neck she would´ve gone faster with her hips again, risking to make him cum. He learned in the last weeks that she easily gets turned on by him massaging her boobs and twisting her nipples. Not that she wasn´t already but he wanted to be in control this time. It was easy enough for her to turn things around. Even tho they had only moments of just touching each other without pulling pants down it was always clear she was in charge of him. If she stays in charge it´s so intense, a good intense but not the intense he needed right now. It was fate having mercy on them that Anna´s mom wasn´t at home that day- Tenzo made his friend squirm a little, but her tiny moans began to get louder. Such a lucky situation to be home alone.

He sucked her flesh by the crook of her neck, leaving a big red mark. Nobody is gonna know- she never wears something revealing in puplic, letting others see the sealing of the spirit who´s name once been Inara. No one will ever know that Yamato is making this woman his. It´ll stay their hot little secret. The Captain pulls up the top, right over her perky breasts, one hand wandering down to her panties. “Y- Yam… What are you doing?”, Anna breaths, gently holding his wrist. He gives her a soft kiss on the shoulder. “I want to explore your body. Is it okay if i do?”, his voice is as soft as he kissed her, alluring and warm. Making her feel safe. After short thinking she nods. “Yes, please do.” she whispers, leaning back to him, laying her head on his shoulder, giving him full excess in this position. They both feel nervous, but feeling each others embrace is calming enough to move on. Yamato scoots a litte to make it more comfortable for them, still having Anna on his lap. He looks down on her while his hand sneaks itself under her pantie, yet again feeling the wet and warm juices before sliding one finger between her labia, she wimpers, then another- the tension gets high again, Tenzo hearing how her breath gets shakey from the build up lust. Anna bites her lips and watches the movements of his hand, feeling how his strong hand being gentle with her clit, stroking down inbetween her labia, exploring her folds before really acting which already makes her melt. “You´re doing so good for me baby girl~ so nice and wet~”, his voice is low and has a certain touch to it Anna is not used to- her eyes widen a little as he said “baby girl”. She never heard him saying that. Her thinking stops as one of his fingers enter her pussy, she moans, holding onto his other hand, which starts to gently twists her nipple again. Annaisha turns her head, kissing his cheek before he begins to kiss her back on the lips, starting to move his finger inside her- knowing that she´s wet enough he lets his second finger slide in. Wimpering Anna looks at him intensely, getting lost in his eyes, wanting to say something but she can´t.

Yamato notices of course. Rubs against the certain point inside of her he was just at, his smirk makes Annas cheeks flush even more, almost glowing in the darkness like her eyes- “Did you want to say something?” God this made Anna feel insane. She slightly nods, opens her mouth to speak but only lets out a moan as Yamato continues thrusting into her, beginning to also circle her clit with his thumb. “Sorry i didn´t understood what you just said~”, his cocky grin from the amusement he has over Anna while being in control makes her weak and mad at the same time. “You´re an- “, a moan coming from between her lips interrupts her sentence. Followed by whimpering as she feels how he gets the hang of it and the right pace. She gets dizzy again. “I´m listening-” The young man kisses her cheek. She answers between wimpering, pressing it out from her teeth, like a deep animalistic growl coming from inside of her, “Y- You´re a- an asshole sometimes… Y- Yamato-” Feeling his cock under her butt twitch as her growl comes out. Does he actually like that? Normally her partners there scared of it… But he makes her feel so good. She can´t hold it back. It´s like he is luring that part of her soul up towards the surface. As the young man noticed she´s close, he slowly stopped, giving her gentle thrusts with his fingers, kissing her which she eagerly responed to. Hungry kisses came from her as he pulled his fingers out. She then took her chance, turned around so her body fully faced him and Yamato couldn´t do overwise then give in… at least for now. Feeling incedibly hot, while his dick already wanted to spring out, feeling way too tight in his pants as if they´re suddenly too small. Every inch of his body craved this, craved her. This tiny glimpse he got with his finger inside of her and outside of her pussy makes him want her even more than before. Fuck- does she take the pill? Wait she already told him. Sadly she doesn´t- he knows why but for that he silently curses her. He is very careful with stuff like this but she twists his brain around so much, he would take every risk. Being on such a high he doesn´t even notice himself pulling down her panties, throwing them aside while still kissing her. She kisses from his cheek to his ear now, whispering “Let me make you feel good now~” She nestles on his pants, Yamato´s heart stays still in fear that she would just go to sit on him. Anna notices his emotion shift. She giggles, “Don´t worry, i wont get your dick into my pussy without you allowing me to~” He breaths out relived- maybe bit too loudly. Anna giggles. Embarrassed that she kinda read his mind by just his reaction makes him flustered. Tenzo watches Anna getting rid of her top. Her boobs jiggle a little making him look on them before his gaze comes up again. She places little kisses around his face, easing up his nervousness and making him smile. He then feels how she pulls up his hoodie, placing little kisses on his chest. Letting out a moan as she licks his nipple, sucks on it and massages his big bulge. Feeling now the need to cum even more than before. It´s like he hasn´t made it himself for weeks, which is kind of true… Somehow he didn´t wanted to because he was around Anna most of the time. This time he wanted to be more respectful than the first time he was around, in her bath- but having this blue balls is not coming in handy right now. He moves a little, Anna scoots back, letting him undress his hoodie. His heart pumps, feeling her little kisses on his neck, knowing Anna´s tactics are different than his, he lifts up his hip a little, helping her to slide down his pants. His red cheeks going to fill up his whole face as she looks down.

With curiosity on her eyes she looks at his fat cock. Touching his tip with her thumb before she strokes down the foreskin. His whimpers seemingly amusing her, letting Anna bite her bottom lip. At first she felt kind of intimidated by his ridiculous size but examinating it closer really wants her to feel it deep in her throat. The butterflies in her stomach giving her hot flutters by her clit and around her womb. It's hard to describe but it makes her even more hot. Leaning down, Anna grabs his shaft directing his slight cock towards her mouth. She gets a taste from the precum coming out of the tiny slit as she licks it up, showing her tounge piercing while doing so. It's salty, with an certain taste to it she can't identify. His little whimper gives Anna this dizzy feel for a second. God he sounds and tastes good-

Her gaze goes up to meet his, to her it seems like he doesn't know the difference between left and right. His dark eyes surround a fog which she never noticed on him before. Her lips slide down his big glance, beginning to suck on it while her tounge circles around the tip and her hand moves up and down on his shaft. Her other hand gripping into the skin of his thigh.

Yamato’s eyes roll back. The sensation of what she does is so good, it tingles all down his dick to his balls and stomach. He knew it's gonna feel good but never expected it even better than his fantasies. He grabs her hair, getting the impulse to shove it down her throat but he resists, enjoying the moment. As if the gods heard his plead Anna takes most of his dick in her mouth, seemingly testing how much she can take in. “ou fuck” he moans loud. She's really serious about it, gagging a bit but getting all of it into her throat. Her soft and warm throat making his thoughts getting wild. Seeing her like that, he never thought she would be so eager to please him. He helped bobbing her head up and down, every time deeper than before until it's so deep like when she was testing it out. Gagging, groans and muffled moans fill the room. The movie in the background only a fade glimpse of the reality around them.

“A-Anna…stop- I'm getting close again-”, Yamato whimpers, his dick now twitching by every movement of her. Anna directly stops, listening to the plead of her captain. She coughs a little before she licks up his shaft, kissing his tip and then looks up to him. It's now almost like she sits before him, waiting to get the next order. Yamato pulls her close by her chin, kissing her lips, getting a small taste of himself. “A nice cock you have there captain~”, her small grin makes him chuckle. “You took it very well, you always surprise me in new ways” he says between a kiss or two. She licked his lips “I can take even more, don't forget we have two options from now~”

The young woman let's our a silent squeal as Yamato pulls her close. Kissing down her neck she feels his cock between her labia, rubbing on her clit after he laid her down on her back still having Anna in his strong arms.

Then, lifting her arms over her head, pinning her down by the wrists with one of his big bear like hands. The woman squirms a little, knowing there's no way out now. He licks over her bare breast, ending by the nipple, sucking on it. Letting out some sweet moans and spreading her legs, all by herself willing to take his cock. This thought is about to drive Yamato mad. He nearly jumps up, kissing her intensely. The little tingles he had earlier are now in a uncomfortable way. The need to fill her up whole getting stronger. Anna slips her tounge into Yamato’s mouth, playing with his. Going around in circles both of them being to moan. Letting out a deep grunt by feeling his cock between her labia, beginning to slowly thrust between them. Everything gets so foggy. His brain is filled with lust, the smell of her body, the taste of it and her moans echoing through his ears. This is a new high he didn't even knew he could archive. Kissing her for a long time, feeling how swollen they are now before whispering, out of breath: “Where did you store the condoms?” Anna also has to take a breath: “In the little drawer of my nightstand.” She nods her head towards the direction of the little table to her bedsite.

Yamato leans over her, opening the drawer and grabs the package he bought before he went to his last mission he just returned from. Both of them said it's better to have them there, while wanting their first time together to be spontaneously. Closing the drawer before he shifts back over her again. Murmuring a short “got them-” then giving her a kiss on the cheek, caressing her cheek with the hand he used to put her down.

She smiles, feeling the excitement in her stomach. Annaisha watches Yamato sitting up, looking on the package and reading it, his face seems to drop all expression. The young women shifts up and holding her upper body with her elbows on the mattress. “Something wrong?” Yamato hid his face behind his hands in shame, still holding the package full of condoms. “I- I bought the wrong size.” Anna chuckles. The young man looks so defeated only bc of this. “It's okay, don't worry about it.”, she smiles, sitting up and moving the hands away where he hides under. Taking the package and putting it aside. She takes his face in her hands, hovering over his lips before kissing them. They pull each other close once again. Lowering on the soft mattress and blankets. Yamato suddenly stops the kiss, looking her in the eyes and husks: “Now it seems like I have to fuck you with my raw dick-” Anna wanted to talk against it, saying that he doesn't have to but the next sentence stopped her completely. “Now be a good little whore and take it all in~” He- what? Her cheeks were on fire. Letting out a whimper from what he just said.

For a short moment Yamato thinks about that he might has too much fun playing with her, but it's just too hot having this confident woman simply melt under what he's saying. He places himself between her legs, seeing her pussy in the half dark, the flicker of the TV being the only light in the room. Yamato lifts one of her legs up on the downside of her thigh, with the other hand he directs his cock towads her wet cunt. As the head of his cock slides in, Yamato let's out a grunt, letting go of his dick and pinning her arms up again. Looking into her face to watch her reaction. He slides in further, slow- even for him painfully slow. With every inch she squirms a bit more, whimpers getting louder. Yamato yet again almost loosing his control, she feels so good. Out of his mouth escapes a hot breath. Her warm and wet walls fitting perfectly around him. Looking down for a second he can't believe that she manages to fit this monster of a dick in. Shifting down to her and with it lifting her leg to her chest. Anna being pretty flexible coming in handy at this certain moment- he feels his dick hitting her soft cervix. “oh fuck Yamato, you feel so good~”, she moans. Looking up again to check on her she seems to be totally somewhere else.

Finally he starts moving. His hips clashing into hers. Not holding back anymore he gets faster, cursing between his teeth while praising the woman under him. The clapping on their bodies filled the room, followed by their loud moans. They lost themselves completely into each other. Yamato placed two fingers on her clit, circling it and seeing how Anna's back arched in sensation. Finally having her hands free she pulled Yamato close by his hair and kissing him without taking breaths. He responds her kisses just as intense as she intended them. Feeling as her walls begin to suck his dick in, he puts more pressure on her clit, still circling it in a consistent speed. Anna's kisses began to get sloppy, she was close. At least he assumed she was.

Anna felt herself getting close. The coil in her womb was about to explode. Her eyes rolled back, not knowing if she can handle this amount on sensation in her body. He was so deep inside of her, stretched and filled her cunt out completely. Feeling as he slaps his dick into her harder, basically impaling her with a deep growl. Before she even knew what was about to happen next she cums, sucking Yamato’s dick in, her walls pulsating around it. She sees stars. Every tension in her body flows out and Anna's mind goes completely blank. Her limbs feel like pudding as his hand is now placed over her womb, to tuck her in place. She twitches with every hard thrust he makes. Whimpering while holding onto the orgasm.

Tenzo positions her leg over his broad shoulder. To him it feels like her pussy wants to milk him dry. He shifts back to hold his balance then getting a tight grip on her hips. Thrusts getting sloppy. It seems like her pussy doesn't stop sucking him in. Within a second and a last heavy thrust onto her cervix Yamato cums inside of her. His hot cum filling her out and overflows although he's inside of her. The wave of the orgasm washes everything away. Making him feel like he's on a cloud. The young man places Anna's legs around his hips, placing sloppy kisses between her breasts. Her fingers brush through his hair, letting him look up. Seeing the soft smile on her lips gives him butterflies. With flushed cheeks he gently kisses her and he asks himself if this is what being with a goddess is like.

Without noticing the movie already being in it's credits, they slowly got into a more daisy sex round. Gently placing kisses, sweet touches and saying silent praises. Yamato using both of the cum and juices as lube while mildly thrusting into Anna's pussy, hitting her sweetspot. By the credit scene he paints her insides white again.

“You already came so much- it kinda surprises me that you spurt into me again. It's really hot~” Anna's low chuckle made his high even better. “You just feel so good, how could I resist?”, his voice is husk, still flowing out like honey, smooth and golden. After final kisses they turn off the TV, cleaning themselves up and cuddling into each other under the blanket. Feeling their naked skin warming each other.

Tiredly Annaisha asks, now barelybeing able to keep her eyes open : “Are you sure you're okay that we did it without a condom?” Being worried that he feels uncomfortable that they did it. For her…well- it hits her kink but that doesn't mean her partner should go with it just bc she likes it. She watches, closing her eyes here and there, fighting against her body to fall asleep. Her friend thinks for a second. “If I wouldn't have been okay with it or going to regret it later I never would have done it anyway. No worries pudding.”, his smile was so sweet that she couldn't resist to kiss him, snuggling even closer.

The next morning Anna got up early, letting Yamato sleep and going to the apothecary. The little bell rang as she walked out, holding a little package in her hand. She reads it again. “Morning-after pill.” Letting out a sigh she wants to slide it into her pocket as she hears someone saying her name. “Oh, good morning Annaisha. It's pretty early for you isn't it.”, the suspicion in their voice catches Anna off guard. Looking up she hides the little box behind her. “Kakashi! Good morning to you too!” She sees him fixing his headband. Oh for everything that is holy to her. She'll kick his butt if he used his sharingan to see what she has in her hands. The tall man standing in front of her smiles under his mask, in one of his hands he holds is book, he seems to re-read the series in order this time. “The apothecary? Are you unwell?”, he sounds worried. Surprised and curious she looks up at him with big eyes. “Oh, No worries. Just stocking up my meds.” she lies. “I'm glad to hear that! Hope to see you tomorrow for Narutos training. The kiddo seems to miss you. You weren't around the last days so we assumed you're sick.” Anna gasps a little, “God I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to tell you that in my free days I'm watching over the shop!”

Not realizing that she holds the package with the pill inside between her hands in front of her while bowing in apologies. Kakashi places his hand on her head, ruffling her hair. “It's okay. I understand.” “Thanks Kakashi…” As she fixes her hair he walks away, reading hs book. “See you tomorrow little pumpkin!”

Leting her gaze follow him a little down the street she has to take a deep breath in and out. Releaved he didn't ask her more… noticing now the pill in her hand her heart drops into her pants. “I…holded it basically in front of him-” She wanted to fade away in shame.

#anime #yamato x oc #captain yamato #naruto #naruto fandom #naruto figures #naruto oc #naruto tenzo #kakashi hakate #yamato tenzo #naruto fanfic

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midnight-rot · 8 months

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I was just thinking about that dog!van/ny post (which I keep near and dear to my heart she is so cute...) and I just realized, since its halloween- Werewolf Van/ny would just be. I have no words. Just. It would just.

This ask has been on my mind 24/7 since you sent it and I was gonna wait until I finished drawing for it but I take forever to draw and I am going to fucking explode if I don't get to talk about this. Because like. Oh my god.

She would be just as hyper and affectionate and unbearably horny but 100x more aggressive. She has a far greater sense of smell and she spends like 10 minutes straight sniffing every inch of Will/iam with a particular focus on his pits and crotch. She's also a LOT stronger. Strong enough to lift his fat ass. And it's all so fucking intimidating to him. She grabs his thigh, her claws sinking in as she drags her sharp teeth over his soft flesh and he can't help but tremble the whole time.

He's terrified and aroused the entire time. Having her so easily overpower him and move him around like he's nothing. Tearing his clothes off. Biting and scratching him hard enough to draw blood. Fucking him harder than he's ever been fucked before. And he can't help but love every second of it. The part of him that hates himself, that wants him to hurt, eats it all up. He feels so weak and small comparatively and it's a terrifyingly intoxicating feeling.

And the Van/ny he knows and loves begins to disappear into this monster, this animal. Something foreign and unknown and frightening. She's uncharacteristically rough. She unabashedly uses him without remorse, just wanting to satiate her own desires. But she still loves him of course. She makes it very clear, proclaiming it between growls and pants, jarringly human for just a moment. She marks him and claims him as being hers. And before they both pass out, she licks his wounds, a surprisingly tender gesture, if not a bit off putting as she clearly enjoys tasting his blood.

And in the morning when she's back to normal she feels so incredibly horrible for hurting him so badly. He tries to reassure her, tell her it's okay, that she couldn't help it. But it doesn't stop her from crying and apologizing and begging for forgiveness. She patches him up with so much care and love that it's hard to believe that she was the one who hurt him in the first place.

She cuddles him and coddles him and tends to his every need, not resting until she feels like she's made it up to him. And she can't believe it when he says he would let her do it all again the next time she turns. Though he does ask her to try and be a bit gentler.

#Im so normal about this concept Im so sane and normal #I feel like that video of that chimp banging on the door of its enclosure #I love you anon I love you so much #rotten asks

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lampmanliveblogs · 2 years

Text

Follies at the Coven Day Parade Addendum

As promised, I did my usual rewatch and here are a few things I missed or didn’t talk about the first time through:

•The ”sweet potato” thing. So cute, so precious. •There were some references to old gags from season one, such as Gus’ high-fives and King’s bread puns. •A commenter pointed out that Raine whistles when they blow on their tea. That’s kinda cute. I was gonna make a joke about it actually being a cooling spell and Raine just used their voice instead of their instrument… but that made me start wondering if there are bards that can use bard magic with their voice instead of instruments. I think it could be kinda cool if that were the case. •On the second time through, I get a distinct feeling that Terra might’ve actually wanted to kill Kikimora. The attack she does against Luz & Kiki while they’re invisible looks pretty lethal and was only stopped by Amity’s intervention. Later, on the docks, when Kikimora asks if she passed the test, Terra replies ”Unfortunately.” So yeah. Terra means business, and that business is mind control and death. •Angmar and Gavin from episode five can be seen in Latissa during the Emperor’s speech, implying that they live there and that Glandus is located somewhere close by.

As I sit down to try and sum up my feelings on this episode, I find that the best I can muster is ”It was okay.” Good enough. I don’t really have any strong feelings about it.

That is not to say it was bad or anything, it had a lot of good things that I liked. Amity & Luz being in love and Amity & Willow being friends was cute and wholesome, much appreciated. We got to see Raine again, even if they were turned into a goon by Terra. Speaking of which, we got to meet Terra Snapdragon, another one of the Coven Head Witches. She was intimidating in a way I think Darius and Eberwolf didn’t quite mange to be in their episode.

Seeing two of the predictions I made in my Mid-Season Intermission (meeting another Head Witch and a Raine rescue operation) come true so soon was pretty satisfying. Granted, when I was thinking the gang were gonna need someone with more inside information to rescue Raine, I was thinking of Hunter and I was kinda hoping they’d actually succeed with saving Raine. But hey, they can’t all be bullseyes.

The story of Kikimora didn’t really grip me, because I was fully expecting her to betray Luz right from the get-go. But she did trip over that plank, which I thought was hilarious so it was worth it.

We also learned just a little bit more about the Day of Unity; that it’s in one month and will involve all the witches traveling to the head of the Titan. And that’s… it. Belos also publicly unmasked, but we already knew what his face looks like, so it didn’t hit that hard.

When it comes to Luz… It was more of what we’ve already seen. Luz is having trouble figuring out just what the heck she’s gonna do with her life, you know, assuming she finds out a way home and Belos is not a threat anymore.

Now, just because it is more of what we’ve seen before doesn’t mean it’s not good stuff. It’s fleshing out and developing nuance in the character. It’s a complex question with no simple answer and so it needs time to stew both in the minds of the characters and the audience. That way, once we do get the big pay-off, it will hit all the harder. So as a piece of a larger puzzle, it fits great. It’s just that the piece on its own isn’t that exciting to look at.

The biggest development was that Luz is now more open about these troubles she has with Amity, which I think is a good thing. We saw Luz talking to Eda & King and they didn’t really have much help to offer, they just tried to cheer her up. Amity might not be able to offer much advice either, but her support is going to mean a lot. Luz knowing that her awesome girlfriend still loves and supports her even if her life is messy and she’s unsure is, I think, going to help make her feel at least a little better.

In Conclusion With the context of the hiatus, it does feel to me like this episode is mainly trying to remind, reestablish and introduce some of the main story goals of the second half of season two. Those being, Luz’ inner troubles, the threat of the Coven Head Witches, Raine��s rescue, the mystery of Belos, and the Day of Unity.

I hope I’m not coming off as too negative, like I don’t like this episode. I do, it just doesn’t excite me as much as some of the previous ones. Because let’s face it, this season so far has been full of the great episodes. A good episode then looks bad by comparison.

Oh wait, we got to see the invisibility glyph spell this episode, 10/10, my favorite ever.

Oh wait, we got to see Hooty’s skeleton this episode, -10/10, I hate it here.

I’ll be getting into episode twelve tomorrow, and, ah… I’ve been told things about it… See you then. But until next time, take care of the planet Earth and remember that anything can happen in space!

<--Previous: Mid-Season Intermission

Masterlist

Next Episode: Elsewhere and Elsewhen-->

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s2e11 #follies at the coven day parade

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cyberneticlagomorph · 2 years

Text

You tell yourself that you're just going over there to check on her and leave.

No pleasantries.

No staying for dinner.

You're just gonna make sure she's alive and go home so that the needling voice of your Paranoia can shut up for once.

You repeat this over and over, like scripture, like a fucking prayer as you scale the rickety metal steps up from Fifi's workshop to her apartment.

You knock a couple times but get no answer and instead of leaving like a sane person, you opt to unlock the door and walk right in like you still live there.

The fact that you still have your key to your ex girlfriend's apartment, is either a blessing or a curse.

And the fact that she hasn't changed the locks in 5 years is frankly terrifying, but you try not to think about it as you shoulder open the door and listen to the sounds of trash and debris skid across the floor as they're disturbed.

The air smells sour, like vomit and sweat.

Antiseptic and chemical preservatives.

It reminds you of a sick person's hospital room, all that's missing is the beeping, wheezing machines.

Tape and foil smother the windows.

All the screens in the apartment have been covered with whatever bits of fabric Fifi has on hand, except for the one she's sitting at.

Eyes blankly staring into the familiar world of Ursumbra Online, bloodshot and unblinking.

A cord firmly jammed into the net port in between her shoulder blades, as if done in a hurry.

The amount of welts and scratches where she initially missed, seems to support that theory.

"There's leftover pizza in the fridge, eat it before I do." She hasn't even turned around and yet she talks to you like you never left.

Like it's been 5 minutes since you walked out that door, not 5 years.

Of course not, any version of your life without her in it simply does not exist.

Your life on your own means nothing.

Any thoughts of you escaping and being better off without her makes no sense.

The powdery remains of smashed light bulbs crunch under your feet as you move closer, but Fifi doesn't seem to notice.

Something black and foul smelling oozes out of her port like pus, forming a crust where metal meets flesh.

Bones strain against skin pulled taught, gone pale(er) and gray from lack of sunlight.

Hair matted, fox tail completely limp and even balding in places.

You can't see her face from where you're standing, but you suspect that it's so SO much worse.

She coughs once, spraying her already filthy screen with blood and black mucus.

You pull your shirt up over your mouth and nose and back away a little too quickly, tripping over something on the ground behind you.

A plush fox pulls itself off of the floor and hisses at you, a torrent of black ichor pouring from its mouth.

It has teeth.

Human teeth.

And a fleshy purple tongue, vaguely shaped like a hand, that gropes towards you as it stands there drooling.

More toys are summoned by the commotion, each one more hideous than the last.

You aren't sure if you want to scream or throw up, and the possibility of doing both simultaneously freaks you out so much that you just kinda lie there with your mouth shut.

See, Fifi is a weeaboo.

Someone obsessed with anime and Japanese culture to the point where it's cringey and kinda racist.

She's also a back alley gene modder.

This means that she has lots of disposable income to spend on lots and lots of merch.

Which means lots and lots of toys.

You're very quickly surrounded by a seething mass of little plush zombies, some with uncomfortably human body parts sprouting from their fur.

They smell like damp subterranean places and old blood.

Like the Nightmare Fifi you fought the other day.

You aren't connecting the dots so much as realizing that there are dots to begin with, but hey that's still progress.

In game the enemies don't like sunlight.

Something tells you that even if you could make it to the windows, there wouldn't be enough light coming through them to do much of anything.

The toys are climbing you now, sinking their sharp claws and teeth into your skin and screaming when they hit the metal underneath.

You're technically inedible but that won't stop you from bleeding to death.

Oh… it's not the metal they're mad at.

You watch a doll rear back, face sizzling where it's covered in your bright

Neon blue

Glowing

Blood

Haha nice.

That doesn't stop them from chewing on you though so you need to come up with something else fast.

There's a language, spoken by the tyrannical God-Stars that rule your universe. Fiery and bright with the ability to alter the very source code of the universe if used correctly.

If used incorrectly it has a tendency to drive people insane or set things on fire and honestly? Burning alive seems like a better alternative to whatever the fuck this shit is.

You speak a single Word and it illuminates the entire room as if you'd pulled the sun herself into your lap.

Your tongue burns and blisters, blood wells up in the back of your throat and leaks from your eyes.

Your penance for using the speech of gods.

Several toys evaporate instantly and others scramble for cover, knocking over trash and furniture in their haste.

Fifi screams in a voice not her own and tries to flee, only to be stopped short by the cord in her back.

She huddles, foaming like a rabid animal, in a darkened corner as the Word fades away.

Everything hurts when you finally manage to stand up; but nothing as much as the sight of Fifi's ruined face.

More black crust cakes her nose and mouth, ringing her wide crazed eyes.

There's even some in and around her little fox ears.

She doesn't speak when you approach but she does bite the shit out of you, sinking her teeth into your neck and screeching in betrayal when your blood burns her like acid.

You're weak and dizzy from blood loss at this point and can't find a fuck left to give so you sink your fingers into her flesh like clay..

The world is pulled out from underneath you like a rug as Fifi's frenzied thoughts pour into your brain like bullets.

You are sick.

That's what it feels like.

You are sick and it is changing your body.

Something, somehow, is sharing with you the love changing.

Of throwing yourself into disarray.

The black tar in the back of your throat is almost sweet.

You pay close attention to the movement of your diaphragm every time you cough.

It feels like it might detach from the rest of your insides, going to war with you.

You are sick.

Soon, you can no longer bear the light.

You explore your changes in total darkness.

Texture, sound.

Falling in love with disease.

You dream of it, seeing your limbs and organs splattered in your sleep.

When you awaken, you write and draw it all down, as if it were going to become a prophecy.

Nightmare disease.

Everyone should know it.

You, the real you, actually do throw up this time as you pull your fingers from Fifi and watch her collapse into your arms.

She's always been a scrawny Irish bitch but now she's almost completely skeletal.

Some sweet STUPID part of you aches, and you listen to it, wrapping Fifi's unconscious body in a blanket and carrying her back to your home.

#ic #action post #blood #gore #body horror #infection #disease #ask to tag #injury #emetophobia

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themerriweathermage · 1 year

Text

The Council of Nost Bronadui

Chapter Four: The Long Road Home

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. I was sitting at the rail station, waiting for everyone to board when Quinn managed to catch sight of me through the wall of Clippers standing around me. Before I entirely recognized what was happening, he was using his shoulder to muscle through the wall. When they didn’t budge, when they banded together to refuse him, he grabbed at one of their swords, managing to pull it out of its sheath and got as far to raise it before Meraxes’ wing slammed down in between them, cutting him off from the Clippers, the sword grating uselessly against her body.

“That is enough.” It was both a command to Meraxes, though I knew she would not obey, and to Quinn. The ground shook as Meraxes rumbled out a roar in warning.

“But...” Quinn started. I cut him off.

“I am no longer your concern.” I replied sharply. “Take a step further and I’m sure Meraxes would love to detain you for the rest of this journey, but I assure you, you don’t want that.”

“If I recall, your sister said you couldn’t control that dragon.”

“Just because Meraxes isn’t flesh and blood doesn’t mean she isn’t sentient. As I’m sure you can imagine, she has a particular set of feelings towards you. I might would behave if I were you, Baron Quinn.”

He said nothing afterwards, and when Meraxes finally moved her wing, I saw that our Clippers had detained him and taken the sword from him, and that he was in escort onto the train. Which meant that I was going next, and it wasn’t soon enough for my tastes. I was immediately curled up in my quarters, praying that this journey wouldn’t make my stomach turn anymore than it already was.

I couldn’t recall the last time I had an episode like this. Scratch that. I could recall it well enough. I groaned softly; the perpetual motion of the train going through the rest of the mines was gonna make me sicker than I was already. Even the little bit of sleep I had managed to get hadn’t been restful.

There was a hand on my cheek. “Is there anything I can get you?” Lydia whispered.

“It will pass.” I murmured. “It always does.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer, Bren. When we get to Rojas’ territory for the supply drop off, I’ll see about requisitioning a healer.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I nosed into the pillow, staunching the nausea while she was here.

Yes, I do, Lydia thought. He was a mess, gone from bad to worse on the train. If she had to hazard a guess, he’d finally pushed himself too far and collapsed under the weight of the council. Bren looked horrible to say the least, the magic that protected him in his daily life faded and now the weight of the barony showed through so much more. Not to mention that he was huddled under a blanket, skin overheated and yet somehow still shivering in chill.

She was gone for a moment, and then I felt the blessed relief of a cold damp cloth being pressed against my forehead. Any other action I might have cursed but this one was welcome. “Does it help?”

“A little bit.” I breathed, trying to relax under her touch as she pressed her hand to my back, rubbing in soothing circles. As much as I hated to admit it, the action had me falling asleep quicker than I expected.

“Try to get some rest.” She murmured. And even in the depths of sleep, I managed a reply even if it didn’t entirely register.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Lydia froze for a moment, turning back to look at Bren but he was solidly out of it. It was only the sounds of arguing coming from behind the partition that drew her out of her shocked state.

Quinn made his way to the other end of the train but before he could get there, Sunny stepped in front of him, face as cold as the steel blade on his hip.

“Let me through.”

“He told you himself he is no longer your concern.”

“He’s whining, Sunny.”

“He’s goddamn sick, Quinn!” Sunny snapped. “Because as much as he talks about how this isn’t for you and it’s only for your barony, he’s run himself ragged because of you. For you. You could do us all a favor and piss off out of his life. Sure, he’d be heartbroken but at least he wouldn’t suffer for you!” Quinn was a little taken aback by Sunny’s behavior. Certainly, Sunny protected the man, as any Clipper should have for his baron, but the tone, the expression, the venom in his voice, told Quinn that this ran far deeper than just a Clipper’s loyalty.

“You care for him.” Quinn whispered, backing down just a little.

“Anyone in their right mind would. He’s a good man. And you don’t deserve him.”

“Keep it down!” Lydia stepped out from behind the partition, hissing out a curse on both their names. “Unless you fancy being thrown off this train...”

“We’re in transit.” Quinn started, taken aback. “That would kill...”

“I don’t care.” Lydia snapped, scowling at him. “You’re not helping this situation so sit down and shut up!” To their surprise, Quinn actually backed off, retreating to the end of the rail car he’d come from, slumping into a seat, almost dejected looking. Sunny raised an eyebrow at Lydia slightly.

“What? He’s not doing well.”

“More about the part of throwing Quinn off the train.” Sunny murmured.

“I... I have questions for Nix when we get back.”

“How is he?” It had been blissfully silent for the longest time until Quinn broke the silence. Perhaps, Lydia thought, for a moment he’d actually been worried that she would have had him tossed off the train and into the depths of the mines.

“He isn’t your concern.” Lydia replied.

“Bullshit.” Quinn muttered. “He’s hurting.”

“As if you have any right to care when you’ve already shown your true colors. Once upon a time, he might have believed that your concern was genuine, born out of the spirit of allyship or even something else, but what right do you have to care after what you did to him?” Lydia asked. She hadn’t been looking at Quinn but noticed his movement out of the corner of her eye. Apparently he was finding the ground fascinating.

“He... I...”

“Even if he actually cares about you,” which he does but Lydia wasn’t going to say it, “Haven’t you noticed that he surrounds himself with people who know you, people who have lived with you, people who have worked for you, with you? Do you think he’ll let himself be hurt so easily again?”

“I...” Quinn started, quiet for once, folding his arms and tucking his head against his chest. In all her time knowing Quinn, she’d never seen him make the attempt to be small, to keep his head down. Even if he wasn’t verbally admitting defeat, his behavior certainly indicated it. Either that or he was actually genuinely concerned for Bren. Lydia wasn’t sure, but she didn’t press it either.

Quinn knew he was all but detained, confined to a section of the train car with Sunny guarding one end and a duo of Clippers on the other. But Bren was here too, tucked away behind a partition, doing that thing where he suffered alone and in silence. What the hell had happened to him out there?

When the train rolled into the station at Rojas’ territory, Quinn thought for sure that Bren would make an effort to greet the other baron, but he saw no such signs. What he did see was Lydia and Sunny arguing quietly as they got off the train together, leaving Sebastian to stand guard at Bren's door. He could have muscled his way through Sebastian but the other man seemed to know that he was being eyed down.

It wouldn’t have been the first time that Quinn had seen Bren sick. They’d had their share of trysts before... well, Quinn didn’t want to think about it. Rather than go to a healer, he’d come to Quinn in the midnight hours, exhausted beyond measure, mostly compliant beneath his hands. And he wondered, if those were the moments Bren had referred to in their earlier conversation back in that tavern. He didn’t say a word to Sebastian when he slipped past the guard to go see if he could find something in Rojas’ markets for Bren.

“The 611 trade route is here.” Esme announced.

“Late, but Bren warned me it would be.” Rojas didn’t look up from his paperwork.

“Did he happen to tell you who was on it?” Esme asked. That made Rojas pause, glancing up.

“Do I want to know?”

“You should know that Baron Quinn is pacing about your markets at the rail station, and I must admit, he looks rather lost.”

“That explains why Bren was a little less than divulgent about why the route was going to be late.” Rojas muttered.

“On a more serious note, Regent Lydia and Captain Sunny have also disembarked to requisition a healer.” His expression turned serious.

“Give them whatever they need.”

“And Quinn?” Rojas raised an eyebrow slightly.

“You want to help Quinn? I thought your brother had a remarked interest in Bren’s apparent singleness.”

“I know when an enemy is rattled, Baron. And Quinn is very rattled. Weaponless, but rattled. I want him back in his own barony the quickest he can be, and if that means helping him to get him back on the rail...”

“Then it’s at your discretion, but be careful. Weaponless or not, Quinn is not a man one trifles with.”

Quinn paced back and forth through the market, thinking, thinking about all the times that he’d taken care of Bren, and trying to remember what he liked best when he was at his most vulnerable times. He wasn’t expecting to be approached, and when a hand touched his arm gently, he growled.

“Can I help you, Baron?” Esme asked. Quinn recognized her as Rojas’ Regent but her name evaded him and right now, he didn’t care. He glowered for a minute but that attitude quickly deflated when she didn’t back away or leave him alone.

“Bren is...” Quinn wondered how much he should divulge. “Not feeling well. I want to take him something, maybe that he can eat.” Esme nodded to his request. Bren’s trade order they knew well enough. He was fond of sweet things, but perhaps something light for someone feeling under the weather.

Quinn watched her flit around the market, gathering up supplies for him to take back when his eyes settled on a crate of peaches, and he seemed to recall Bren saying something about liking fruit.

“First peach harvest of the season.” Esme started, coming to his side with her assortment. “I’m sure Baron Bren would like them. He has a particular fondness for them.”

“I’ll take it.”

“How many, Baron?” The vendor asked.

“The crate.” Quinn shuffled through his pockets, leaving more than double the worth of coin on the counter while the vendor stared on, speechless.

Quinn left distracted, and followed Esme back to the train where she laid out her assortment of supplies.

“Mint tea should help with his nausea. And then maybe if he’s feeling up to it, here’s a simple broth to get something on his stomach. If he can tolerate more, some cured meats and cheeses which are his favorite, and of course,” Esme gestured to the crate Quinn was carrying.

“Thank you.” Quinn murmured. She paused for a minute, looking at his back because now he was going toe to toe with Sebastian at Bren’s door, stunned that he bothered at all to thank her. But she had business with the other occupants of the train and a clearance to give to their healing ward so she didn’t stick around to see the outcome.

“My orders were to--” Sebastian started. He was unsure about Quinn, because his behavior certainly indicated that he was distraught about Bren being sick. Quinn leveled him a very stern glare.

“You are not bound to his Regent or to his Captain. Move or I will move you.” That was fair. Sebastian owed Bren no loyalty, even though he was quite loyal to Lydia.

“I will keep my eye on you.”

“Fine. Move.” Quinn repeated, and Sebastian did, letting him into the room with Bren with all his assortments of food.

I blinked away the sleep as I came to, hearing someone move about the room, and then suddenly, there was someone at my bedside, a hand sliding against my cheek that wasn’t Lydia’s. From the touch of his fingers alone, I knew it was Quinn.

“Can you drink this for me?” Quinn breathed quietly, holding out a cup for me to drink from. I furrowed my brow slightly, leaning forward to take a sniff of the contents. Mint tea. I nodded, taking small and hesitant sips. “Lydia went to get a healer.”

“How’d you get pas’ Sunny?” I asked softly.

“Sunny went with her. Sebastian let me by.” How Sebastian had gotten mixed up with the guard, I had no idea, unless Lydia had persuaded him to stay as extra security.

“Mm.” I groaned, dry retching over the side of the bed, reaching for the bucket, hand crossed over my stomach. I couldn’t deny that the tea was good, but the feelings it brought with it were unpleasant and it felt like my stomach was tearing me from the inside out. “You shouldn’t be here.” I rasped out. But he didn’t leave. In fact, he was making himself comfortable at my bedside. He was quiet, doing nothing more than helping me drink, but there was serious concern in his eyes.

Quinn reached out again to touch me, but his hand hesitated, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good idea.

“You can, you know.” I murmured, sinking down into the comfort of my pillows when the first wave of nausea finally passed.

“I-- You--” Quinn started, uncertain until I guided his hand to let it rest against my cheek. “I did this to you.”

“You didn’t do jack shit to me, Quinn.” I murmured.

“Something happened. Something bad. Something because of me.” I didn’t move to disagree with him. He wasn’t wrong that he was at the source of it, but he certainly didn’t do anything to me to cause it. Quinn opened a container of broth. “Can you eat for me?”

“I can try.” I offered him that, letting him spoon-feed me until I couldn’t take anymore. He was so worried, almost to the point of panic, but maybe he’d never really seen me like this, when all my guards were down. I started to realize, when the nausea passed, that I recognized my symptoms. That I was so hungry that I was nauseous and that my blood sugar was low enough that my body was very deeply protesting it. “Did you happen to bring anything sweet?”

“Here.” Quinn all but shoved half a peach in my direction. “Rogas’ Regent recommended it. Said you liked them.” That was quite the offered gift. I managed to pull myself up into a sitting position, dizzy, but knowing now that I needed to eat for it to go away.

“Her name is Esme.” I whispered, taking a bite, skin and all, and savoring the sweetness.

“Who?”

“Rojas’ Regent. Her name is Esme.” I murmured.

“Is there anything more I can get for you?” Quinn asked, once I’d finished all I could stomach for now. My body would just have to settle with what I’d given it.

“Stay. Please. Until Lydia gets back.” I whispered, propping up my pillows and leaning back into them, drifting. It was nice to get something on my stomach but I didn’t know how long it would last.

Quinn looked over his shoulder to find that Bren had nosed into the pillows and apparently fallen asleep. For once, for real, Quinn got a good look at him. There was more white coloring his hair than before and his skin was paler than normal. He was tempted to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen into Bren’s face but he kept his hands to himself.

The stress of the barony had not been kind to Bren, Quinn mused. His train of thought was interrupted by Sebastian. “Lydia is on her way back.”

Fair, Quinn thought, that he’d be warned but Bren had asked him to stay, and he couldn’t leave now, not while he looked so vulnerable. So he prepared himself to face Lydia’s wrath when she returned healer in tow. Sunny wrinkled his nose at the sight of Quinn sitting there.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“He asked me to stay. At least, until Lydia returned.” Quinn made his way to his feet. “And now that she’s here--”

“His fever has broken.” Lydia murmured, her hand on Bren’s cheek. “Did he... talk to you? Coherently?”

“He was able to eat and drink some.” Sebastian volunteered.

“He kept it down?” Lydia asked. Quinn nodded. As much as Lydia hated to admit it, there was apparently some good coming of Bren’s request that Quinn travel with them, and it wasn’t just so their guard could keep an extra eye on him. As much as she hated it, there was a part of Bren that would try, just for Quinn, to be better, to get better.

It was rare these days for Bren to show up silent to his cabin, Waldo thought, but he was there now, and Waldo didn’t know how long he’d been there. Sure, he’d seen Quinn out and about in the barracks but thought that only meant that the Summit was over.

But here he was, his back still turned on Waldo, shoulders tensed beyond measure. Oh Waldo knew that Bren came here when he wanted to hide, only... Bren wasn’t hiding.

“Was the Summit that bad?” Waldo asked. He didn’t receive an answer, at least not immediately. He was tending to his birds when Bren finally said something, his hands gripped so tightly at either end of the wooden table that Waldo heard it splinter beneath his grip, recognizing that there was a part of Bren that wasn’t entirely human right now.

“I had a vision.” Waldo didn’t know if that was plausible or not. The range of Bren’s druidic powers wasn’t extensively known to him.

“It was just a bad dream.” When Waldo tried to console him, Bren whirled, a strange dark colored aura flaring beneath his shirt.

“It wasn’t!” Touchy subject, Waldo thought.

“Okay.” He backed down from the part of consoling Bren when clearly that wasn’t the way to go. “What made this a vision and not just a bad dream?”

“I watched it play out. I watched Quinn talk the talk, walk the walk. I watched it play out exactly the way it had in my vision.” Bren snapped. There was a beat of silence and then his shoulders slumped. “I changed the path.”

“So why are you so bent out of shape about it? If it didn’t come to pass?” When Bren finally met his eyes, even Waldo could see that it had taken a toll on him.

“No matter which path it split into, the Badlands suffered in the wake of it.” Bren started.

“The Badlands?” Waldo asked. “Are you certain?” Then this wasn’t just about one or two baronies, if Bren was going to measure it extensively.

“Either my sister turned into a true Targaryen-- to the point of holding Quinn as a personal POW-- or I turned into a Bewilderbeast.”

“You’ll have to run that by me again.”

“It’s a giant ice-breathing dragon. Bigger than Meraxes. And she was a casualty in that too.”

“Was this over--?” Waldo didn’t even have to finish it to know. It was over Quinn. Whatever had happened in his vision, whatever he wasn’t saying... Bren shivered, pulling his jacket further in on himself. His eyes were bloodshot, whether from stress or lack of sleep or tears, Waldo wasn’t sure. But for certain, Bren was rattled. “Have you talked to Nix?”

“I can’t.”

“Everybody has that side they don’t show, Bren. You really think I wouldn’t be above torture? You don’t know me if you do.”

“I know damn well what you’re capable of.” Bren retorted, his voice low. “And I know damn well what I’m capable of.”

“Then what are you so afraid of?”

“If I lose him, I’ll go insane.”

“You need to take a step back from Quinn.” Waldo murmured.

“I love him!”

“Then let him go!” Waldo all but yelled it. “You saw it yourself what’ll happen if you continue to love him, and yet you persist. Let him go, Bren!”

“I can’t.” Bren admitted. Waldo stared for a minute.

“The door is that way.” He pointed. “Figure yourself out. And don’t come back until you do.” For a moment, Bren glowered at him, taking his leave. He paused in the doorway.

“I have left Quinn to his decision of whether or not he will help his people. That being said, I will neither help nor hinder your coup. Should you succeed, I simply ask that he be exiled.”

“Exile?” Waldo asked in disbelief.

“Please.” It was the only word Bren would give him before leaving.

#The Council of Nost Bronadui #Welcome to the Badlands #Welcome to the Badlands Series #Sunny X OFC #Quinn X OMC #Angst #Hurt/Comfort

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