#//And that means he's not willing to budge on the subject of humans and what they're allowed to do. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

melanielocke · 3 years ago

Text

Conceal, don't Feel - One

Do you wanna build a snowman?

This is the first chapter of my Frozen Carstairs sibings AU

CW: abuse, toxic relationship, alcoholism

@alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 and I both came up with a similar idea separately from each other, so this is a story separate from hers, but if you like this one I recommend you check out Frozen Heart. I’m not yet sure how often I will update, but I’m currently working on chapter 7 and 35.000 words in (chapters are pretty long).

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month @writeordie-4 @amchara

I cannot seem to tag @lightwoodsimp, sorry

Alastair didn’t know where his parents were taking him. It didn’t matter. He would go anywhere, would do anything if it meant she could be saved. It was his fault she’d gotten hurt. He called out to her. Warned her.

‘You’re going too fast. Slow down, Layla!’

It had been too late. Cordelia was hurt. His fault. He’d hurt her, he’d hit her with his ice. His father had been furious, of course. He’d deserved that. His mother had been more gentle, had taken him into her arms and whispered that it was going to be okay. A lie. It wasn’t going to be okay because he’d hurt his sister and that made him a monster. Just like Father had been afraid of.

But Father knew where to go. Father knew how to fix this. A trail of ice followed their horses. Alastair barely noticed it anymore. It would draw attention. It pointed right to him, to his wrongness. Just like he deserved. Alastair didn’t know why he couldn’t control it anymore. He’d been too excited about it, had used it to play and have fun and build snowmen in the middle of the summer. But that was wrong. Ice was wrong and shameful and dangerous. And so was he.

They stopped in a small village hidden at the foot of the North mountain. Alastair had studied the geography of the kingdom many times but did not know there was a village here. He’d heard stories, there were trolls living here. That was why people avoided this place. Alastair would say he was too old to believe in trolls, but he was magic. Who knew what else was out there?

He descended from the horse, hiding behind his mother. He’d always been closer to her than to Father. He trusted her to keep him safe. Not that he deserved her protection.

A man approached. He was a little shorter than Father, with dark hair like Alastair’s, but blue eyes and light skin that was common in Arendelle. Alastair had never seen the man before, who was he? Certainly not a troll. There was a girl around Cordelia’s age behind him, stepping forward curiously to his sister. Cordelia had not woken since Alastair had hurt her.

‘Hello,’ the little girl said. ‘My name is Lucie, who are you?’

‘Lu, I don’t think the princess can hear you right now,’ her father said. ‘Don’t worry, your Majesty, I’ll get my wife. She’ll find out what’s wrong with your daughter.’

The man disappeared into one of the houses, but the little girl remained behind, poking at Cordelia.

‘She’s not going to wake up,’ Alastair said quietly.

His father glared at him, whereas his mother took his hand firmly. ‘Don’t say that, joon-am. Your sister will be fine.’

‘Who are you?’ Lucie asked him.

Alastair frowned. This was part of Arendelle, wasn’t it? How did someone not recognize the king and his family?

‘My name is Alastair,’ he said softly, not meeting the little girl’s gaze.

‘Come, Lu,’ Will said. ‘Tessa and Jem are going to take care of the princess.’

A woman with brown hair kneeled down in front of little Cordelia, a man with dark hair and eyes beside her. He looked familiar, but Alastair wasn’t sure why.

‘Jem, please help my daughter,’ Father pleaded.

‘Of course, uncle,’ Jem said. ‘You and your family are always welcome here, you know that.’

Alastair was confused. Jem was his cousin? But then why had they never met? He knew about the mysterious cousin, of course. His father had been the youngest of two brothers once, his older brother Jonah had been king before him. He’d had a son too, prince James. King Jonah and his wife had died though, and prince James had disappeared, during his father’s regency. When it became clear prince James was gone for good, his father had been crowned king. Alastair had always assumed he must have died. There were rumors king Elias had murdered his nephew so he could claim the throne. Alastair was glad to know those rumors weren’t true. But why had Jem been here all this time?

‘My wife Tessa can heal her,’ Jem continued.

Elias raised an eyebrow. ‘I though she was Will Herondale’s wife.’

‘All three of us love each other,’ Jem said and Alastair was intrigued. ‘Arendelle might not understand, but there is no need to conform to what society wants from us here.’

He’d always been taught love was between a man and his wife. Clearly Jem didn’t think so. He couldn’t find love, he reminded himself. He had his ice, his cold heart. It would be nice, to live here with a love, but that was not his destiny.

‘It is for the best you left, I think,’ Elias said.

‘Don’t be rude, dear,’ his mother said. ‘They can help Cordelia.’

‘There is ice in her head,’ Tessa said. ‘I can remove it, don’t worry. It’s good the magic didn’t reach her heart. A frozen heart is the one curse I cannot break, but the head can be persuaded.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what Tessa was. She was magic, like him, right? How did she know so much about the ice, about the frozen heart? Did that mean there were others like him?

‘Lucie!’ Tessa called.

The little girl sat down beside her mother. ‘Yes, mama?’

‘You want to help, darling?’

‘Of course.’

‘My daughter is the heir to my gift,’ Tessa explained. ‘She will learn in time how to remove ice herself, in case the prince has more accidents. But for now, we’ll do it together.’

Tessa and Lucie both put their hand on Cordelia’s head. Alastair held his breath, this had to work right? Otherwise he would have killed his sister. Alastair knew he was a monster, of course, but he didn’t want his sister to suffer for what he was.

‘I must warn you, there will be a side effect,’ Tessa said. ‘Messing around in her head will affect her memory. I am doing the best I can to contain the effects and limit the memory loss, but she will lose all memory of Alastair’s magic.’

Alastair frowned. ‘So she won’t remember I have powers?’

‘No,’ Tessa said. ‘But when you’re ready, you can explain it to her. I think it might be good to work on your control first and tell Cordelia once you feel secure you won’t hurt her again. Remember, fear is your enemy. You’re always welcome to stay here, with us. People think trolls live here and stay away, you would be safe..’

The offer sounded tempting. Away from his family, from the people he hurt…

‘No,’ his father said. ‘Alastair is the crown prince of Arendelle, he will be king one day. Power or not, he must be prepared for his role. We’ll limit our staff, close the gates to limit his contact with people, so no one will find out and no one else will get hurt. He’ll learn to control it, I’m sure. Besides, your lifestyle would be a bad influence.’

Alastair’s heart sank. Of course, he was prince too. Destined to be king. It didn’t matter what he wanted. Why should a monster like him be king, he wondered, but he knew his father wouldn’t budge on the subject.

Cordelia coughed a little before opening her eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ she said, a little sleep drunk.

‘You’re all better,’ Lucie declared. ‘Although I think you still have a strand of white hair. Otherwise your hair is very pretty.’

Cordelia smiled. ‘Where am I?’

‘My name is Lucie,’ she said. ‘Will you play with me?’

‘Of course,’ Cordelia said. ‘I like making snowmen.’

‘We must go home now,’ Father said sternly.

‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ Lucie said. ‘Will you come another time, then? I’d so love to have another girl my age around. It’s just me and my cousins here and they’re all older than me.’

‘Of course,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’ll play with you.’

‘I think it would be good for us to check on Alastair’s progress regularly,’ Tessa said. ‘It would be unsafe for me to leave this village, so please come here whenever you’re ready, or if you need help.’

In the end, Alastair never returned to the village where his cousin lived. Neither did Cordelia, not even to play with Lucie. A day later, she did not remember what had happened at all. As far as the people of Arendelle knew, that village didn’t exist. Tessa was a witch, after all, and so was her daughter. The people might turn on her, his father had explained. They might turn on him too. And he would deserve that. That’s why he needed to learn control.

‘You’re too sensitive, Esfandiyar,’ his father would say.

He’d learnt a rhyme over the years. Conceal it, don’t feel it. He repeated it to himself whenever he felt too much, whenever he was going to lose control. He’d received a pair of gloves from his father, something he claimed would help him.

It didn’t take long for Father to grow more absent though. Often he was sick. His fault, he was putting too much pressure on the family. All his fault. His thoughts were spiraling as they so often did, out of control as the storm inside. His fingers tingled, ice formed on the floor, on the walls. Conceal, don’t feel, he told himself. That was the only way to control.

When Alastair was eight years old, not long after the incident, his father was interested in how using the sauna would affect him. He’d never been, as he was too young and his mother wasn’t so sure it was safe for him, but his father insisted it was worth a try.

‘It might be the solution to your control problem,’ Elias had said. ‘The sauna could melt the ice.’

Alastair had been scared, but he’d been willing to give it a try. Most humans in Arendelle used a sauna from time to time, so why shouldn’t he?

It had been a nightmare. As soon as the sauna had been turned on and gotten warm, Alastair had started screaming. It was agony, fire burning his skin and everything inside, the ice begging for release.

He couldn’t use magic in here, and it hurt so much.

‘Let me out!’ he’d screamed.

It had taken some time until Father had given up and finally let him out. He wasn’t burnt, there were no signs on his body that he’d suffered. The pain had been real though. He was still so shaken he froze the entire corridor, for which his father had become angry. Later that day, Father had disappeared into his bedchambers with a bottle of a smelly drink.

Alastair would never get into the sauna again. Never. There was ice inside of him, and it didn’t like the heat. Perhaps he should try it, perhaps he should stay for longer and let it burn out the ice inside of him. Perhaps he could be free. But Alastair didn’t dare go inside the sauna again, he never wanted to feel that pain again.

***

Cordelia was lying on the floor of the ballroom. She was sure her mother would hate to find her here, but what else was she supposed to do? She sighed, would there ever be a ball here? There had been balls once, that much she remembered. She and Alastair weren’t allowed to attend yet, but they’d snuck out of bed to watch from the corridor together.

There had been so many people. Nowadays, it was only the staff, her family and Risa, her mother’s lady in waiting. Didn’t her parents understand she wanted someone to play with?

Once she’d played with Alastair almost every day. They would build snowmen and ride a sled and have snowball fights. But that had been a long time ago. Nowadays Alastair would barely acknowledge her. If he spoke at all, it was to tell her to go away and not bother him. He spent most of his time in his bedroom. Cordelia didn’t understand how one person could spend so much time in bed, especially considering he was not sick like Father. Didn’t he want to have something to do? She would play with him all day if only he opened his door.

But Alastair preferred the solitude, it seemed. He rarely even yelled at her to go away anymore. He just pretended she didn’t exist. He was studying to be king now, whereas Cordelia did not have such a responsibility. She guessed he was too mature and grown up for her now and she was just his stupid little sister. It was frustrating.

It had all started so sudden, and Cordelia had never understood why. One day they’d built a snowman together, the next Alastair didn’t even speak to her anymore. He only ever emerged from his room to eat, and to take walks on the palace grounds. Her mother didn’t want her to go there, for she might fall and hurt herself, or rip her dresses. It didn’t make much sense, because she’d followed Alastair from a distance once and there was barely anything to trip over. When Alastair had spotted her, he’d gotten angry and yelled at her to leave him alone, that this was his place, why couldn’t she at least let him have that?

Cordelia guessed her brother didn’t like her anymore.

‘What would you do, Joan?’ she asked.

No response. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Joan, of course, was a painting in this room, a woman in armor riding a horse. The painting had always fascinated her, because Cordelia wanted to be a warrior too and carry her own sword. It was probably all very improper, a princess talking to a portrait, but what exactly did her parents expect her to do?

Father was sick all the time nowadays, and Cordelia would often sit with him and read him stories. Alastair came in sometimes, glared at both of them, and left. At least her father still cared for her. At least it was something. Even if he mostly ignored her when he wasn’t sick, or talked to her about a potential marriage alliance when she was older. She’d never even met someone around her age, how was she supposed to get married? Her mother didn’t have time for her anymore, she had to take over from father when he was sick and run the kingdom and whatever free time she had left she spend with Alastair.

No one knew what was wrong with Father, and Cordelia worried for him. She vowed to spend as much time with him as possible, to always be there for him, because even if he was sick, he was the only one in her family who still had time for her.

‘If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?’ she asked Joan.

No response.

‘That’s right, me too. Anywhere is better than here.’

***

When Alastair was nine years old, a year after the incident, he’d made little progress on controlling the ice. If anything, it had gotten worse.

‘You’re not trying,’ his father accused him. ‘Do you want to turn your bedroom into a snow landscape? Do you like the cold? Do you like that by freezing the bathroom, you broke all the pipes? It cost a fortune to replace everything, and I couldn’t explain what happened.’

‘I’m sorry, Father,’ Alastair had said, the fear he often felt around his father gripping him.

Would he be locked inside the sauna if he didn’t do better? He was trembling on his feet as his father grabbed his elbow and took him down stairs into an old dungeon.

‘When my brother Jonah was king, he stopped using these dungeons to hold prisoners. He believed keeping people in dark and dirty cells like this was inhumane. But we do not always have the luxury of choice.’

His father showed him to a cell with a pair of cuffs, chained to the floor, designed to fit around his hands. Because that was where the magic came from, that was why the gloves helped.

‘If you cannot control yourself and become a danger to those around you, I will have no choice but to use these. Do you understand?’

Alastair was shaking, snow escaped from his hands and twirled around him. He swallowed. ‘Yes, Father,’ he said weakly.

‘And don’t act so scared,’ his father scolded. ‘With that poison inside of you, you absolutely cannot feel.’

Of course. Conceal, don’t feel. That was the only way to keep it hidden.

That night, Alastair dreamt about the chains in the dungeon, about his hands being bound, his father leaving him there.

‘You’re too dangerous,’ his father said. ‘You must stay here from now on.’

Alastair pulled at the chains, tried to break free, but it was no use. He woke up in the middle of the night, lying in the snow. On his bed, he reminded himself, but everything was covered in snow and ice. He should clean this up, he determined. He did not know how to unfreeze anything, but he could sweep the snow up and outside of the window before Father found out and determined he should be chained in that cell.

He’d considered telling his mother about the cell and the chains and that he was scared, but ultimately decided against it. He was far too scared to find out that when it came to it, she would let it happen. Worse, that she already knew.

***

Alastair was thirteen when his father presented him with the family sword. Legend had it the sword was magic, but the properties of the weapon had been lost over time. No king of Arendelle had ever died in battle while carrying it though, and some speculated the sword watched over them, protected them. Alastair didn’t know what too believe when it came to cortana. He knew his sister wished she could be the one to own the sword, but Alastair knew as future king he was supposed to bear it. He was sure Cordelia could practice with it when he wasn’t using it.

‘Now, Alastair, this is an important part of the Carstairs legacy,’ Elias said. ‘If you can use this sword, you would be protected if people ever learnt of the ice that’s inside your heart.’

That’s what Elias often called it, the ice inside his heart. Don’t feel, Alastair reminded himself. He wasn’t supposed to feel, or he would upset the ice. Elias treated it as something separate from him, a demon that would strike if Alastair didn’t work hard enough. He didn’t think that was right, but didn’t dare say anything.

Elias presented him with the sword. Alastair had never held it before, had only admired it from a distance. He took the hilt in his hand and immediately dropped it, yelping in pain. As soon as the hilt touched him, a pain shot through his hand. His skin was red, blisters were forming where the sword had touched him. He’d sustained burn marks.

His mother came in when she heard him scream and rushed him to the infirmary immediately, where he’d gotten his hand bandaged and lied about what had caused the burn, claiming he’d wanted to help in the kitchen and touched a hot pot. A horrible shame crept over him and gripped his stomach. He was unworthy. He couldn’t even hold cortana. The family sword, the weapon that had been carried by all great kings and queens before him, had chosen to burn him.

***

‘I have a surprise for you, dear,’ her father said with a smile.

It had been ages since Cordelia had seen him so healthy and she was glad he was having a good day. She missed him. She’d wanted to go to his bedroom and read to him, but Alastair had told her she couldn’t. When she’d asked for more information, he’d refused to explain and just said she wouldn’t understand. Alastair often treated her as if she was stupid and did not understand anything, but Father never did.

She didn’t know what to do with her brother anymore. She’d loved him once, that she knew. Part of her still did. But she was fairly certain he didn’t love her anymore. He’d left her all alone. At least he still had her father, even if he was gone so often. It wasn’t his fault he was sick.

‘What is it?’ Cordelia asked.

‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?’ Elias said with a chuckle.

Cordelia’s dark eyes went wide as her father showed her to the room where cortana was kept. For years she’d begged to touch the sword, to practice with it. But the sword wasn’t hers. As heir, it belonged to Alastair. Even if he’d never shown interest in it, even if wielding cortana had been Cordelia’s dream for a long time.

‘I’ve discussed with your brother, and we decided that since you are so attached to cortana, it should be yours,’ her father said. ‘You are worthy of the sword.’

Cordelia picked it up. She’d never trained with it, although she did know the basics of swordplay. With nothing else to do, she’d watched the guards train from a distance and had copied their movements. It felt good in her hands, like it fit perfectly and had always belonged to her.

‘Now, a sword is a great responsibility,’ her father said. ‘Cortana has a sharp edge and a dull edge. You can always choose mercy, and that is what the old kings and queens of Arendelle became known for. Remember that.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘Of course. I will not let anyone harm us, but when I defeat my enemy I will always offer mercy.’

***

There was only one other person outside of his family and Tessa’s who knew about Alastair’s powers. It had been an accident, really. Alastair was allowed to go outside onto the palace grounds and practice. Cordelia wasn’t allowed to go there with him, so no one would see if he lost control. It was the only place where he could get some air. But it wasn’t enough, and sometimes the walls of the palace felt suffocating. He longed to get away, to disappear.

So one day, he’d made sure no one saw him and had snuck over the wall. It had been easy, really. He’d built a ladder out of ice. In the summer heat, it would melt and no evidence of his escape would be left behind. He could control the ice inside him when he set his mind to an explicit goal.

Honestly, the problem arose when he felt. Better to freeze his own heart. But he couldn’t help but feel when Father yelled at him, when he drank so much he couldn’t stay awake anymore. It was all his fault, he knew. Father wouldn’t have started drinking if he’d been better, if he had never hurt his sister. But he was a monster and he deserved his father’s anger.

He knew Cordelia hated him. He had accepted it. She would be safe and Alastair would never hurt her again. If that meant she hated him, it would be alright. Tessa had said once he could tell Cordelia about his powers when it was safe again, but Alastair feared it would never be. He had nightmares sometimes and woke up in a snow landscape instead of a bedroom. Sometimes the emotions just became too much.

On the other side of the wall was another forest, and here he could be himself. He would be alone, yes, but Alastair would always be alone. Most of the time he didn’t mind the solitude so much. At least here he wasn’t trapped within those walls.

He just walked, not sure where he was going. He would find his way back to the wall eventually, he told himself. A castle was hard to miss. He didn’t even notice the boy in the woods until he was right behind him.

‘Hello.’

Alastair was startled. He wished he could say he’d responded with some decorum, but that would be a lie. Instead, ice had shot out of his right hand, with which he had been leaning against a tree. He was stuck, frozen against a tree. Great, just his luck.

‘Are you alright?’ the boy asked.

Alastair wished he could have turned around, but his hand was still very much stuck, glove and all. There was only so much the glove did. He still had to control his own emotions. Conceal, don’t feel. He’d broken that rule, and for what?

He finally broke off the chunk of ice from his hand and turned to face the boy. He was around Alastair’s age, with brown hair and hazel eyes. There was a reindeer following him, sniffing Alastair curiously.

‘I’m fine,’ he said between his teeth.

‘Were you born with the powers, or cursed?’ the boy asked curiously.

‘What kind of question is that?’ Alastair bit at him.

‘I’m sorry. That’s what my aunt said is what distinguishes sorcerers. But you don’t have to answer. I just never met someone with magic like yours before. What’s your name?’

Alastair had to think quickly. The boy didn’t recognize him, didn’t know he was the prince. He couldn’t know, because then he would spread his secret and soon the whole kingdom would know the crown prince was a monster with ice in his veins.

‘Esfandiyar,’ he said.

It was his middle name, and a little known fact. It was a name from his mother’s home country, an ancient hero his mother used to tell him stories about. It was one of the few fond memories Alastair had of being young. So much had revolved around his cursed ice.

‘Thomas,’ the boy said, offering his hand. ‘Thomas Lightwood. And this is Sven, my reindeer.’

Alastair smiled weakly, refusing to take the boy’s hand. He knew he had to go home, but he hadn’t spoken to another boy his age in forever. He didn’t want to go.

‘Why are you here in the woods?’ Alastair asked.

‘Oh, I was just on my way home with Sven after delivering my mother’s cakes. I like this part of the woods. I always came here before I was allowed to leave by myself. Why are you here? Is it because of your magic? Are people scared of your ice?’

‘People don’t know,’ Alastair said. ‘And you can’t tell anyone.’

‘I won’t,’ Thomas promised. ‘But your powers seem so awesome. I wish I had powers.’

‘No you don’t,’ Alastair said. ‘No one would want to have ice inside of them. It’s very hard to control, and you can hurt people. Badly.’

Thomas tilted his head. ‘You’re not going to hurt me, are you?’

‘I don’t want to,’ Alastair said. ‘But that does not matter. The ice does what it wants.’

‘I’m not afraid, Esfandiyar,’ Thomas said. ‘That’s a beautiful name, by the way. I wish my name was even half so extraordinary.’

‘I need to go,’ Alastair said, determined.

He would not hurt someone else, he vowed to himself. Conceal, don’t feel. It didn’t matter that Thomas was the first person in years to see him and not be afraid.

‘Will you be here tomorrow?’ Thomas asked. ‘I always take this route after delivering my mother’s cakes. I can meet you around this time every day of the week.’

Against his better judgement, Alastair said yes.

He met Thomas in the woods everyday for nearly two weeks. He didn’t lose control of the ice anymore, not when they were together. Thomas was nice, and liked telling him about his life. He didn’t even seem to mind that Alastair avoided all of his questions. One day, Thomas had baked some extra cakes and shared them with Alastair. It was Alastair’s fifteenth birthday, and although he still hadn’t told Thomas about who he was, he had mentioned that his birthday wouldn’t be celebrated. Cordelia had given up on him a long time ago, and his parents didn’t have the time. It was sweet of Thomas to think of him, the only person who had in years. It was almost better than the cakes themselves. Almost.

‘I really hope my mom won’t find out, but these are the best cakes in the whole world,’ Thomas said. ‘My mother taught me how to make them herself. Well, my cousin Christopher likes the lemon tarts more.’

‘Your parents are both bakers?’ Alastair asked.

‘No, just my mom. My father is on Arendelle’s council, although I don’t think the king listens to him a lot.’

‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ Alastair said.

He wasn’t surprised his father didn’t listen, often he wasn’t even there for meetings. But his mother would, right? She’d always been calmer and gentler than Father. But she wouldn’t go against his father’s wishes.

‘And my uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily sell ice. They travel to the north mountain and the frozen lakes at winter and cut off ice and transport if back to the city and sell it.’ Thomas smiled. ‘I always wanted to go with them when I’m old enough. But what’s the point of going all the way to the north mountain when you can just conjure ice out of thin air?’

‘Believe it or not, making that journey is probably less dangerous than asking me to supply the world with ice,’ Alastair said.

‘Perhaps,’ Thomas said. ‘But I’m certain there’s a way to control it. I haven’t seen you lose control at all since when we first met and I startled you.’

‘I feel less around you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not supposed to feel and at home I do that a lot. But with you, it’s better. I don’t think I feel anything.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Oh,’ he said and Alastair suspected something was wrong.

‘What is it?’

‘I thought you liked spending time with me,’ he said. ‘But now you say you don’t feel anything.’

‘That’s a good thing,’ Alastair insisted. ‘I’m not supposed to feel.’

‘Everyone’s supposed to feel, Esfandiyar,’ Thomas said. ‘If you don’t feel anything when you’re with me… I guess you don’t like my company as much as I thought. Maybe it’s better if I don’t come back.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. His fingers started tingling. No, no. Conceal, don’t feel. Don’t let it show.

‘No!’ he said. ‘Please. I’m all alone, you’re the only person who understands. You weren’t meant to find out, but you did, and now you’re all I have.’

Thomas looked confused. ‘But that means you did feel something, right? If you truly felt nothing, you wouldn’t care if I left.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘No, when you said you would leave, I did feel. Please stay with me, Thomas. I don’t want to feel. Usually, it’s like a storm and I have to fight to keep the ice inside. You make everything better. With you I don’t feel the storm.’

‘I think you’re a little confused about what it is to feel,’ Thomas said. ‘You know it’s more than sadness and fear, and anger right? Happiness is also feeling. I feel happy when I see you in the woods.’

‘Perhaps that’s it,’ Alastair said. ‘Do you think it’s alright for me to feel happiness? Even if I’m not supposed to feel?’

‘Of course, Esfandiyar. What is the point, if you can never be happy? I have to go home before my mom realizes I’m late. But can I see you again tomorrow?’

‘Always,’ Alastair said.

The last day he met Thomas, the other boy was acting a little shifty. Alastair wasn’t sure what it was. It made him nervous. He knew to expect bad things when people acted like that.

‘Esfandiyar, there’s something I need to tell you,’ Thomas said.

His cheeks were red, and Alastair didn’t think it was from the cold. Alastair waited expectantly, but Thomas didn’t continue.

‘What is it?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, you see,’ Thomas began, stumbling over his words, but he was not to finish them.

His father came stumbling into the woods, Alastair could tell from his demeanor that he’d been drinking. His fault, he should have stayed in the castle. Of course they’d notice he’d snuck out.

‘Alastair, where have you been?’ the king asked.

Thomas looked at Alastair, and then at the king. ‘Alastair? Oh heaven, you’re the prince, aren’t you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Esfandiyar is my middle name. I’m sorry Thomas. I shouldn’t have lied to you.’

‘Who are you?’ his father hissed at Thomas, and Alastair hoped Thomas wouldn’t notice his slurred speech, betraying to a trained ear that he was drunk.

‘Thomas Lightwood, your Majesty,’ Thomas said softly. ‘My mother is a baker. My father is Gideon Lightwood, he represents the commoners on your council. I was just on my way home. I swear I didn’t know he was the prince. I am so sorry.’

‘Go home, Lightwood,’ the king said. ‘And do not let me catch you here with my son again, or I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons.’

Thomas took Sven and disappeared. Alastair dreaded what would come next. Father could be unpredictable when he was drunk, dangerous even. Alastair was terrified he would be dragged into the dungeons to those cuffs, or to the sauna.

‘I’m sorry, Father,’ Alastair said softly.

‘What were you thinking,’ his father snapped. ‘You’re a prince, not some peasant boy. How can you risk them finding out?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Alastair repeated. ‘He was nice to me.’

‘He’s a peasant boy, of course he’s nice to you if he thinks it’ll win the prince’s favor,’ Elias said. ‘You must learn these things, or you’ll fall for anyone with even a little bit of charm.’

‘He didn’t know I was a prince,’ Alastair protested.

Elias didn’t even look at him. ‘Of course he did. Everyone in the kingdom knows who you are. He lied to you to bring you into a false sense of security. You’re so naïve, to have believed him. I have sent for someone to come and teach you about ruling a country. It’s about time you learnt to be a proper prince.’

Alastair looked back once more, but Thomas was long gone. Alastair went back to the forest the next day, desperate to hear what Thomas had wanted to tell him, even if it was only once. But Thomas had been nowhere to be found, and Alastair had returned to the palace, defeated. He was all alone.

His father was right, it was time to be a proper prince. He was fifteen now, he was old enough to understand how the kingdom worked. His father couldn’t fulfill his duties anymore, not with his drinking eating away at him and his mother doing everything she could to fill in the gaps. It was time for him to step up.

#Conceal don't feel #Frozen AU #Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Sona Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #the last hours #tlh

25 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 6)

<- Part 5

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Final chapter! Warning: The Good Place spoilers, and a timeline that makes perfect sense because Jeremy Bearimy, baby.

2,800 words

“No way. It’s too dangerous!”

“I thought you said we were in this together?” Chilton quirked a brow, eliciting a petulant grumble. You crossed your arms.

“Or maybe you think I’m expendable, so you’re willing to take risks with my life. Afterlife. Whatever.”

Frederick Chilton, who was not, as originally advertised, your soulmate, nonetheless clasped your hand with gentle tenderness. I would never do anything to hurt you is what a normal person would say in that moment, and perhaps his eyes said it, somewhere deep in their searching pools of green. But Dr. Chilton had a repressed way about him, tending toward overly clinical just stating the facts (or the sarcasm). Anything but genuine, vulnerable, sentimentality.

He guided you by your hand to sit down beside him on the baroque loveseat in one of his many living rooms, studies, and salons. After you settled yourself on the velvet cushion, he leaned his shoulder against yours in that quiet way he showed affection.

“After reviewing the town records,” he said, “I believe we may be the only two humans in the neighborhood. Some of the residents are far too dull—Chidi Anagonye, the moral philosophy professor who spent his life writing a single manuscript, Jianyu the silent monk—while others are too perfect—Glen, that one who is constantly volunteering, Tahani, the philanthropist. Real people have flaws, secrets, hobbies. I can only be certain of myself and you.”

“How’d you figure out I’m real?”

“I didn’t. I simply refuse to accept the alternative,” he said with a sad smile, and you began to think Dr. Chilton was sentimental after all.

***

Their voices were muffled even with your ear pressed to the door of Michael’s office—not that it mattered much what they were talking about. You were just waiting for the signal, and at that moment, it came. Their footsteps and voices grew louder as Frederick and Michael approached, and the door handle clicked.

“—which is why cannibalism loses more good-person points than defenestration but fewer than chewing loudly on a crowded bus.”

“Fascinating. I never thought about it that way,” said Chilton, looking genuinely disturbed.

You flattened yourself against the wall next to the door, thinking thin thoughts as the pair exited the office. A tall houseplant barely disguised your presence, and if Michael had any kind of peripheral vision, he would see you standing there plain as day.

But Dr. Chilton spoke animatedly, fixing him with a challenging laser-stare as he asked a probing follow-up question. Locked in Chilton’s eyes, Michael failed to notice the movement just behind his left shoulder as you slipped through the closing door before it could latch shut.

Safe.

Michael’s office was quiet and filled you with serenity in much the same way a teddy bear is filled with stuffing: forcefully and by no will of your own. Like the welcome room with its happy green plants and happy green words on the wall assuring you everything is fine, the office peeled your defenses away. Cream-colored walls yawned out around the perimeter, punctuated with bright windows, a portrait of Doug Forcett (a stoner from the 1970s who guessed, on a mushroom trip, how the afterlife really worked), and various artifacts of humanity enshrined like museum pieces, despite seeming perfectly mundane.

At the top of the room was a large mahogany desk.

Yesterday, Chilton watched Michael put away files in the desk that he wouldn’t let him look at. Chilton was certain they were the key to unraveling the mystery, so he suggested working together—he would distract Michael while you sneaked in to find the files. It was risky, but it might have been your only chance of discovering what was going on, and if there was a way to escape.

You began poking through the desk and found stacks of papers in an unreadable alphabet. The only thing you could read were lyrics to a genuinely terrible song Michael was writing titled “Love Train to the Cosmos.”

The last drawer wouldn’t budge.

Yanking the handle didn’t work. Banging on the side with your fist failed to unstick it. It was locked. Locked drawers were suspicious. The answers had to be in there.

You eyed a mountain of paperclips lovingly displayed on a pedestal labeled “Human Things.” Snatching two off the top, you unbent and re-bent the stiff metal wire, and inserted it into the lock. Faint clicks sounded as you turned and finessed the paperclip, feeling each pin in the tumbler slide into place. Then you gently turned it, and—pop. The drawer opened.

A single manila folder stamped TOP SECRET in threatening red letters rested inside, as if waiting to be found. You picked it up and opened it, and your breath caught. They were reports on “The Good Place.” The Good Place in quotation marks. Reports about you.

A pleasant bing sounded.

Janet materialized in front of the desk. For once, she was not wearing a cheery smile.

***

Frederick Chilton had always been a selfish man. Any opportunity that could advance his career and put him in the spotlight, he would take it no matter who it hurt. “Unorthodox therapy,” he called it in his private chats with Dr. Lecter. They bonded over their shared interest in unorthodox research before he learned Dr. Lecter was a cannibal. That would have been a clue to anybody else that it was time to change his ways, but Dr. Chilton spent the rest of his years just as selfish and petty—more so, even, as his disfiguring injuries gave him more reason for spite.

He could never accept himself as he was.

By the time he died, Chilton was an intolerable asshole who paid back the world’s cruelty with his chronic foul moods and acerbic sarcasm. He kept everyone at a distance.

And yet, here, in death, he found himself worrying over someone else.

The sun was shining in the ever-blue sky, dappled by lush green foliage before reaching the two men as they strolled the neighborhood below. Michael was built like a sapling with longer legs than he knew what to do with, making Chilton nearly jog to keep pace. He had a warm smile and an outgoing demeanor—always flattering Chilton’s ego and asking for his guidance. But something malignant hid behind those smiling eyes, and Chilton’s mind kept rushing back to you, hoping you were OK.

He hoped that you were safe. Not that the plan was going smoothly. That you were safe.

There was a difference, and Dr. Chilton noticed right away that his twitchy nervousness was not wrought of self-preservation. It was a new type of panic—worse than fear for himself, which he never thought possible considering the amount of terror he had experienced on his own behalf.

To distract himself, Chilton threw himself into the role of Michael’s assistant, focusing on his task of supposedly identifying psychological issues causing problems with the neighborhood.

“Our interviews should go in alphabetical order, under the pretense of a survey—a sort of afterlife census—to avoid suspicion. It should be feasible, with only three hundred residents—”

“We know,” Michael said coolly. His voice dropped from the usual friendly, flattering demeanor, slipping off like a mask.

“You know how you are going to handle the interviews? It is imperative the subjects do not suspect they are being studied.” Chilton swallowed, knowing full well that he was talking to the real Michael for the first time.

“Don’t play dumb.” Michael smiled an entirely different type of smile, twisted and clever with no warmth in it. “We’ve been watching you, Dr. Chilton. We knew you would figure it out eventually. It was only a matter of time before you saw through a psychiatric study.”

Chilton’s interest piqued at the same time his blood went cold. He wet his lips. “Is that what all this is, then?”

The pair came to a stone bridge that arched gracefully over a reflection pool. Michael stopped midway across, leaned one of his long, pointed elbows on the railing, and cocked his head at Chilton.

“You haven’t figured it all out yet? That’s disappointing. You humans really are so dense.” His tone was so mean that Chilton took an unconscious step back. Michael only laughed and told him there was no point in running away. “But I think you’ll want to hear what I have to offer,” he promised.

Most of what you had been told about the afterlife was true, Michael explained. There was a real good place, and there was a real bad place where bad people were tortured for all eternity. But the bad place had a problem: it was boring! Humans get used to physical pain after the first few centuries, no matter how creative the punishment.

“Once you’ve flattened a thousand penises, you’ve flattened them all. I’m trying to do something new here. Innovate!” said Michael with an energetic swoop of his hand. “Emotional torture can cause the same level of discomfort, but in a more sustainable and (more importantly) entertaining way. That’s what this neighborhood is for—to study you humans and find out what makes you miserable.”

And then he offered Dr. Chilton something that grabbed his attention. The opportunity to design bad place neighborhoods.

“You are asking me to help implement psychological torture?” Chilton turned over each word cautiously.

“Oh,” Michael scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re concerned about the ethics? Doctor, I’ve read your file.”

Chilton winced. He had done truly amoral things in the name of discovery—things it made him sick to be reminded of. Strange, though. In the past, he would have been proud to be treated as a peer by a psychopath. Not ashamed.

“Think of it, the glory, the prestige. You would be designing the afterlife for billions of souls. You will be remembered throughout eternity as the man who reformed the bad place!”

“And my soulmate?”

Chilton blurted it without thinking. It sounded so childish and naive, and sure enough, Michael shook his head and had a long chuckle at his expense.

“There’s no such thing! I thought you knew,” Michael slapped his knee. “I made it up so you would torture each other! But once again, I underestimated the human libido. You people all think with your genitals, it’s—it’s gross. Humans are gross.” He made a face. “That’s why I need your help to design a better system. With your understanding of the human mind, we can make condemned souls miserable for thousands of years.”

Chilton couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for this plan, and Michael frowned.

“If it makes you feel any better, consider this the humane option. The alternative is going back to scooping eyeballs out with melon ballers and replacing them with live bees. What do you say, doctor? Join my team.” Michael extended a hand, and Chilton eyeballed it.

“Can my soulmate—”

“Not a soulmate.”

“—come with me?”

“This offer is only open to you.”

“So they will be tortured? Alone? For eternity? In a system I help design?”

“Nothing you can do will change that. They are going to be tortured—the only person you can save is yourself, if you decide to help me.”

Frederick’s brow knit together. He thought about refusing. He really did. Abandoning you seemed unthinkable, especially after your promise to each other to stick together. But he was a selfish creature, and choosing to be punished wouldn’t protect you. If he was lucky, by teaming up with Michael, he could design a more comfortable torture for you one day.

“Maybe this will help make up your mind,” Michael said. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Lecter?”

“He’s here. In the bad place. So far, he has been especially resistant to traditional torture. I thought you might have a personal interest in taking a crack at him?”

***

On a floating, room-sized projection screen, Frederick Chilton shook Michael’s hand. Your head fell forward, shoulders slumping. The screen flicked off and dissipated into the office air.

“This is the 764th time he has failed,” said Janet, giving a sympathetic simulation of a sigh. “We were sure he was going to make the right decision this time.”

You shook your head. “Fame and glory? Revenge? He’ll never refuse those. Trust me—he died because of them and still never learned his lesson.”

“That is what we’re afraid of. Some people never pass their tests. Fun fact!” she perked up, “Hannibal Lecter’s test is working at a Burger King where he can only cook Impossible Whoppers, and his 19-year-old manager calls him pee-paw. He gets reset every time he eats a customer. His longest record is twelve hours.”

When Janet found you snooping in Michael’s desk, you expected to be dragged away, never to see Frederick again. Instead, she explained everything to you—the truth.

A long time ago, the bad place was exactly how Michael described it—a place where souls were sent to have their orifices filled with spiders for eternity. Then he decided to try something new. Originally, he paired you with Dr. Chilton hoping you would drive each other crazy. But no matter what happened, you kept falling in love. You kept supporting each other, and taking care of each other. The same happened with his other human test subjects—they kept improving and becoming better people than they were on Earth. Eventually, Michael changed, too.

He redesigned the bad place to be a test—a chance for human souls to earn their way into the good place. At the end of each test, you either pass and go to the good place, or your memories are erased and you start over again.

“So, what happens to me now?”

“You passed. You can go to the good place now, and spend the rest of eternity in paradise. The real one.”

“And Frederick? He’ll be alone?”

Janet nodded.

“Put me back in. Reset me, and make me his soulmate again.”

“Are you sure?” Janet asked.

“I’m not going without him.”

“He would leave you behind. You just saw that.”

“That wasn’t fair. Anyone would accept that deal. I would accept that deal!”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Janet said. “You passed your test a long time ago.”

For a while, a heavy silence fell between you as you processed this. Finally, you thought of the only question worth asking. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“762.”

“Well then,” you said. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I do. But you retain a vague sense of your memories from previous tests. At a subconscious level, you might realize you’re tired of this.”

You smiled. A big, genuine one that balled your cheeks and creased the corners of your eyes. “That’s not how I feel at all. I think I love him more every time.”

Janet nodded, but gave one last warning before erasing your memories again. “If he never passes, you could be stuck here forever.”

“Stuck falling in love with that insecure jerk over and over again for thousands of years? Sounds like heaven to me.”

“I thought you might say that.”

***

The first day, you really wanted to punch his pretentious snobby face for thinking he was so much better than you.

The first time you laid eyes on Dr. Frederick Chilton, he was waiting behind a mahogany desk with an ancient hardcover book in his hands. Not reading it—waiting, posed deliberately to be discovered that way, and give the impression of intellectualism.

“This is your soulmate,” said Michael, introducing you.

Chilton took a step back after shaking your hand and looked you up and down critically, as if he were appraising livestock. And right away, you knew there had been a terrible mistake. Who the fork did he think he—

Fork. Fork! Why couldn’t you say fork?!

***

Bright light streamed in through the open bedroom window. The weather was always perfect here, except when some glitch made it rain caviar and jelly beans. Or that time Frederick had a vivid nightmare, and organs began falling from the sky. Every day, something horrible seemed to go wrong in the good place. Things that challenged you and pushed your soulmate to his limits.

But most mornings were like this. Quiet. A time just for the two of you.

Your fingers lightly stroked his chest, delving into the soft hairs that rose and fell with his steady breathing. You pressed a soft kiss to his skin, then another, tracing a line of them lower, over a jagged, raised line down his abdomen. His scars let you know he was waking up. This was the good place—he didn’t have to let them show. Usually, he chose to appear as a younger version of himself, before all the indelible trauma. But on peaceful mornings like this, he would let them show just so you could soothe them. He never thought he would be that comfortable with anyone. That he could trust anyone so much.

Every day, you both knew you could overcome anything, so long as you were together.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #The Good Place crossover #my writing

59 notes · View notes

sweet-little-nerd-writer · 3 years ago

Text

OC questions :)

I decided to do this: it is very long

1. Your first OC ever? Something from my little pony. I don't exactly remember them.

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs? Not really, but i do obsess over the ones i've had the longest (my minecraft sona, oldest d&d character, and an old ninjago character for example.)

3. Have you ever adopted a character or gotten a character from someone else? Yes, mostly warriors characters.

4. A character you rarely talk about? Most of my unused d&d characters. I am going to make many posts about them soon though.

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be? FUCK. Prolly Harmony???? Because she has a story that I really want to tell. but also lunalei because of most of the same reasons but also because I feel like people would go ham on her design and backstory.

6. Two OCs of yours that look alike despite not being related? I don't think I have two that look that much alike without being related.

7. Are your OCs part of any story or stories? Many. I play in 2 d&d campaigns and i just daydream a lot, and also i have 4 pokemon ocs.

8. Do you RP as any of your OCs? If you do, introduce one of your RP OCs here! Uhhhh Delryn, Lunalei, Harmony, and Igne. they're my active D&D characters

Delryn is my really tanky paladin with a 21 ac and 100 hp, and she's so soft and motherly it hurts.

9. Would you ever be willing to give any of your OCs to someone else? No.

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design? Tayla! She's a human vampire with three of my favorite magical items (grappling hook, phantom steps, and a cloak of many fashions.) and she's got an opera sad/happy mask with one side of it cracked off, and it has a deer antler attached to it. she is verrry complicated.

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”? delryn. She is the mom friend of the group, and has the second least amount of trauma in her adventuring party (we have recently discovered that her parents did not just abandon her, they also died!)

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot There are a lot so i'm doing two. mollymauk tealeaf (for many reasons.) and lucifer @rosie-kairi

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs? Tayla, but also Igne, simply because he's a fae, and it comes with the territory.

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory *sweats profusely* Lunalei, who had an abusive cultist family and mommy issues (said mother is trying to summon an elder god to take over the world.)

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people? YES. ASK ME ABOUT THEM.

16. Which one of your OCs would be the best at biology (school subject)? ... Igne. Because he's a fucking druid and no other reason.

17. Any OC OTPs? A lot. We have Harmony and her wife (who is unfortunately dead) and also delryn with her two gfs.

18. Any OC crackships? Not really mine???? but uh. sehanine and eilistraee in the forgotten realms campaign setting because the moon is a lesbian. no i will not budge.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why) Lunalei! She means a lot to me because she's been with me for 4 years now!

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)? harmony, and my other bard Aurum. Harmony has a slightly rough/husky singing voice, and she really likes love songs and also sea shanties. aurum likes singing lullabyes and softer songs.

21. Your most artistic OC I actually have no ocs that do art. it's weird.

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how? Not really?

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like? Harmony AGAIN. She was meant to be a creepy fortune teller with the bard of spirits subclass! instead she's a little sad woman who can swing a sword real good! (college of swords.)

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why? Harmony because i think she's hot.

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?) Lea, my pokemon oc, but also my minecraft sona.

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will? Not really? I don't show half of them.

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song? ... Many.

28. Your most dangerous OC? In terms of regular damage input? Tayla, she does 2d12+2 and 15d6 damage at full, glorious power per turn.

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going? I have no idea. probably uhhhhh. lunalei

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection? also lunalei. she kept every stuffed animal her brother gave her in secret.

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really) Lea. It would be about his job (champion) his best friends (bede, hop, and marnie.) and also posting about his life and everything that touches it. shots with leon after he beats him in the battle tower, reblogging pictures of him taken by fans, stuff like that. also besties with raihan.

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why? no clue. i don't like horror games.

33. Your shyest OC?

34. Do you have any twin characters? uhhhhhh. No. but i do have very close siblings and that's really good enough for me.

35. Any sibling characters? many. Harmony and Hunter are tiefling siblings, lunalei and her older brother alastor.

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else (siblings, lovers, friends etc)? technically, alastor is an npc played by the dm.

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human alasteria. She has two sets of eyes, and looks generally like a creepy porcelain doll. (archfey)

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer? alastor! it's part of his religion actually.

39. Introduce any character you want mir, my kobold gloomstalker ranger. he's an idiot and i love him.

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share! Lunalei is what started me on playing d&d!

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!) no. i'm very sad about that.

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods? Aurum. he's a bard of creation and a researcher.

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confess I almost never make truly human ocs. it's the mystique and otherworldly sense of playing somehting that isn't human and is treated as such is really nice to me.

44. Something you like about your OCs in general they are all very strong in different ways.

45. A character you no longer use? all of my warriors ocs.

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly? i rarely ever get to share mine ;^; so no.

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child? Yes! My minecraft sona, once.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure ... pass i can't think of any.

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes Delryn, she would misuse them (she's 250 years old you see she doesn't get all of the slang right.)

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you want magic! god i make almost exclusively magic characters. warlocks. wizards, sorcerers. clerics. druids. bards.

#oc #d&d #merlot plays d&d #lunalei morovik #alastor morovik #dnd #harmony brightwater #igne maes #aurum #mir #minecraft sona #merlot #a lot of ocs #original character #dnd original character

2 notes · View notes

hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong · 4 years ago

Text

The (not so) lil master that could

Rex was sitting at a desk in an art studio. He was practicing his art with Da Vinci (caster) over looking his practice. He was practicing with human anatomy, with Cleopatra as the model. This wasn't the first time he'd tried this but he had an unfortunate habit of being over critical of himself. Da Vinci was well aware of this, many times when she tried to give him some criticism he'd take it way worse then she intended and end up dropping it for a long time.

Rex: uh... I might be close to being finished?

Da Vinci: are you sure? How do you feel about it?

Rex took a look at his sketch, the anatomy wasn't amazing and the clothing was a bit inaccurate.

Rex: no... it's crap.

Da Vinci: it's not that bad... I've told you before not to be over critical of your art.

Rex: but it's true. I shouldn't even try...

Da Vinci: hey! Stop giving up! You won't get anywhere doing that!

But Rex wasn't listening and he got up and left.

Cleo: what happened?

Da Vinci: he gave up. *sigh* he needs to stop dropping this stuff so quickly.

Cleo: well let me see the picture.

Da Vinci showed the picture to Cleopatra

Cleo: I mean... it's not so bad. I can see potential... he should keep going.

Da Vinci: that's what I've been trying to tell him...

Eventually Rex was in the writer's room this time trying his hand at writing a story. He was too disappointed in the art he tried so he hoped writing would be more his speed. Murasaki was there to help like Da Vinci with the art. Just like with the art and anything he tried, he was too critical of his own writing. Murasaki wanted to help him get better and to keep at it but she was too shy, the only reason she's helping instead of others is because folks like Shakespeare and Anderson annoyed him a bit too much so she's the better option.

Murasaki: how's the manuscript? Is it going well?

Rex: ...not sure... why don't you take a look?

Murasaki took a look at what he wrote.

Murasaki: it's pretty good so far... but this part seems a bit forced.

Rex: *sigh* so what do you think I should do instead?

Murasaki: stories need to flow naturally... try to take a bit of a realistic view on it.

Rex: hmmm...

As he reread the story, he became more and more dissatisfied with it. He noticed many errors and moments where the characters' dialog didn't seem right.

Rex: y'know what... maybe I shouldn't try...

Murasaki: wait! Please don't give up master!

Rex: why keep going? It's crap...

He got up and left, Murasaki just watched him as she wasn't very confrontational. Not that it would help as Da Vinci could tell you.

Murasaki: *sigh* not again...

Eventually Murasaki and Da Vinci met up in the hall and Da Vinci had a question for Murasaki.

Da Vinci: have you seen Rex?

Murasaki: no, he was writing earlier but he got over critical again and left.

Da Vinci: of course. He needs to work on his self esteem issues. I know you're always your own worst critic but he won't even let the ink dry before he burns the canvas.

Murasaki: did he go that far?!

Da Vinci: no... but it wouldn't surprise me. I'm going to keep looking, he needs to end this whole hyper critical crap!

Murasaki: alright, but don't be too abrasive with him, he may shut down entirely on the subject.

Da Vinci: *sigh* he needs a therapy session or something.

As she continued to look, she passes by the gym and hears his voice.

Rex: how was that?

???: your almost there! Let's try one more time!

Da Vinci: there he is!

She went into the gym, to see him in the wrestling wring. He was sparring with Quetzalcoatl, specifically lucha libre moves. This wasn't the first time he'd done this. In fact he'd been practicing with her for ages now.

Da Vinci, thinking: hey... how come he's never dropped this? When he first came in he had no interest in most physical activities. He was overweight and rarely left his room, but now look at him.

Da Vinci left the gym for now, but she planned to confront him about this later.

Later on Rex was walking back to his room, tired from the training he just endured. Then Da Vinci came in to question him.

Da Vinci: Rex!

Rex: ah!

Da Vinci: there you are!

Rex, nervously: what do you want?

Da Vinci: I've got some questions for you.

Rex: I dunno if I wanna answer

Da Vinci: too bad. Why do you keep dropping art and writing and such!? You have real potential for those things. But then I see you practicing hand to hand combat and you've stuck to it for so long! I've read your file, and have seen your behavior firsthand before all this and you never struck me as the athletic type.

Rex: ...well if you want the answer, then I've got a story to tell.

Da Vinci: by all means.

It was relatively far back, a while after Camelot was dealt with. Rex and Quetz were at the rec room watching Lucha matches. They had just finished one up, and you could see just how pumped Quetz got.

Quetz: wow! Wasn't that amazing master?!

Rex: it was pretty intense...

Quetz: I still can't believe you've never watched a match before. It's so increible!

Rex: I dunno... just never peaked my interest that much, but you make it way more interesting then I thought it'd be.

Quetz: gracias! When I first layed eyes on this amazing spectacle I couldn't help how awe struck I felt. I knew I had to master it.

Rex: ...I've noticed most of the time they have a partner. If you were ever in the ring for a serious match, who'd you want to be your partner?

Rex had asked simply out of curiosity, he expected her to say Martha or Scathach or some other powerful servant. But what she said surprised the hell out of him.

Quetz turned towards him, and before she said anything she held both of his hands in hers and gave him her answer.

Quetz: I actually think you'd be an amazing partner!

Rex couldn't believe what he heard. Him? Why?! He wasn't coordinated, he was a bit fat, and he was barely any good fighting without a weapon. If anyone that knew him from before chaldea was there, they'd expect him to give her a "no thanks" because that's the kind of person he was. But what he did say, would've surprised any of his family or former friends.

Rex: ...I'd love to!

Quetz: you would!?

Rex: yes! Anything for you!

Quetz: yay! Let's get started with your training!

Rex: now?!

Quetz: well.. it's actually getting late, how about tomorrow?

Rex: sure...

Back in the present day.

Da Vinci: of course, I knew it had to be her. You continue on to make her happy.

Rex: yeah... there's been many times where I was ready to quit training with her. It's painful, and just like with other things, I don't see what I do as good enough. But everytime I see her face beam with excitement for my training, I keep going. I do it for her, I want to be her perfect partner, she has high hopes and I can't disappoint her.

Da Vinci: but you can't put that effort for things you enjoy?

Rex: ...not really...

Da Vinci: ...why don't you show her your art or writing?

Rex: no! She'll think it's stupid.

Da Vinci: only you think that way... or at least that critically anyways. Regardless, I'm showing her!

As she said this she left to find Quetz and show her the picture he drew.

Rex: don't! It's too stupid!

Despite pleading with her he couldn't get her to budge on the subject, she was determined to do this. After a bit of the two walking and their back and fourth they finally ran into Quetz.

Quetz: Hola mi amor! Hola Da Vinci! What's going on?

Da Vinci: Quetzalcoatl, I've got something to show you!

Rex: pls don't look!

Quetz: why not mi amor?

Rex: it's crap!

Da Vinci: stop thinking that way!

As she says this she hands the paper to Quetz. She over looked it for a bit.

Quetz: mi amor, did you draw this?

Rex: yeah... it's crap I know

Quetz: no! It's actually pretty nice! I think you did a fine job!

Rex: huh?! You can't be serious!

Quetz: of course I am!

Rex: for real?!

Da Vinci: I've been trying to tell you!

Quetz: si! Don't look down at your art mi amor! It's really good!

Rex: ...you sure?

Quetz: si! You've got potential and I'd love to see you continue!

Rex was now filled more confidence then ever! He was ready to get back into it! Especially if it was for her!

Over time he'd get back into drawing and writing and even got into a bit of cooking. It was all for Quetzalcoatl of course! But he also never stopped training to be her lucha partner! He was ready for the day they'd have a match up together.

A/N: there ya go. Had this idea brewing most of work. Sometimes we're more willing to do things for others then ourselves, but that can still be a good motivator.

Tags

@hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasabbydoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @castlecsejtespeakertechnician @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @nureenarts @kierakaz @valiantstrawberrymilk

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #rexcoatl #rex #mastersona #leonardo da vinci #murasaki shikibu

13 notes · View notes

nissakii · 3 years ago

Text

Scent. a Haikyu!! Fanfiction pt.16

[want to read all chapters right now? Our fanfictions get updated every monday on our blog, click here to continue reading!]

“Why don’t you tell me something about omegas and how you react to them”. The phrasing maybe wasn’t that ambiguous, but the words were spat out with poisonous intention. Words that should enter your head and linger for a while not until one realizes they consume you. At least that was my intention on that day. I’ve heard enough times that those kinds of mind games were allegedly ‘horrible’ and ‘insulting’, but I never understood what the big deal was. It’s not like I’m taking away a toy from a child. We are all adults here, and life isn’t about who is the nicest. It’s about who succeeds. And if some little mind game is what gives me the head start. I’ll do it. Albeit possibly that I lost my chances to be friends with Oikawa, I must admit my words to him were pretty harsh, I felt like he took it well. Which isn’t good. He wasn’t fazed by it at all, I had noticed his smile maybe twitching a little but he only retorted with a smart explanation of how natural pheromones worked and made me look like an idiot country bumpkin. I still remembered his smile as he asked me if I understood what he meant, and maybe I was just angrier than usual but I could swear he was being all smug about it too. So I found someone who was willing to play the same game as me. Hm. The other interesting thing on that day, which keeps replaying in my head, was that omega girl. It was honestly shocking to scent an omega for the first time. My curiosity ran with it and I was glad she was fine with me being so close, I have heard stories in which omegas retorted with less ‘accommodating’ ways. I even caught her gaze after a lecture of mine, but she didn’t budge and I wasn’t up for conversation. Still, the way she looked at me after coming for Oikawa was insane. She didn’t yell or tried to fight me, she didn’t shy away either. She just looked at me. And it was terrifying. Her eyes were piercing through me as if to provoke me to continue, her scent had doubled up in intensity which I wasn’t expecting at all, and her sweet caramel scent suddenly burnt to crisp. Her voice was sharp but not too emotional, it was distinct for me to listen to. “I would ask you to mind your own business”. Stone cold, I gotta say. It made me take a step back and raise my arms in defense with a smile and the situation immediately deescalated, Oikawa had caught her scent and was just as aggravated and I realised the rumours I had heard were partly true, but the incident seemed a lot more severe than I had imagined. I mean it was the first thing I heard when I came here, it was on social media and every other first year told me the same thing. “It’s good you’re an alpha, the rest don’t have it easy here”. Maybe I really shouldn’t have meddled too much, it’s still a school I really wanted to go to and Osamu is here as well, so I really shouldn’t destroy my own chances that much. The caramel girl was technically right, I should mind my own business. But was that fun? Nah. The door creaked open as what I would assume could only be my brother entered the dorm room I was in. “Samu!”, I chimed excitedly. … I only pushed in the door a little bit and already heard my brother squeak my name. “Samu!”, he chimed and I entered the dorm with a greeting. “Ossu”, I placed the plastic bag with some utensils I needed for my classes on my bed and looked at Atsumu sprawled on his side. The dorm room we were given was actually quite small. I was used to having a bit more space to myself, but with the scholarship I was glad I atleast got a twin room with my brother. Although when I looked at him I sometimes thought differently. The two beds were pushed to the far end of the room and to the walls on the sides, a desk separating the space in between. In front of Atsumu’s bed, which was the one on the right, the other desk was situated which was supposed to be mine. I remember when we moved in here the dorm looked horrendous, but with enough cleaning and the right duvets and covers it felt a lot better. And of course my side was a lot neater than his. “S’that my

shirt?”, I recognized the pattern on the front and he merely scoffed at me. “Uh, no?” “Really?” “Uh”, he intelligently mused to himself and I sighed. “Nevermind, you take what ya want anyways. Make sure to wash it later, I gotta head to the library”, I left the bag with the supplies on my bed and instead fished out a list with the literature I had to get. “Alright, see ya” “See ya”, I retorted and headed back outside. I grabbed the list in my hands and tried to check which building I had to go to. “Why are there multiple libraries?” Linguistics? Human sciences? Okay I definitely don’t have to go to the law department. With at least twenty minutes of running around campus I finally went up to someone outside and asked for help. “Oh yeah that’s pretty confusing I guess, uh so you need to search for building 4, the library should be the glass building right next to it!” Nodding and bowing with a slight smile I made my way to the mentioned building. The way over there was very pretty, the pathways went under huge trees and the ambiance felt really good, but I had no time to walk around exploring. Finally, I looked at the beautiful building in front of me. Still belonging to the campus, but it was obvious that it was either newly built or otherwise rebranded. The walls showed a tinted version of the life inside, the higher stories dimly shining in a warm light. I approached the entrance and two huge doors slid open when I wanted to step inside. Murmuring was to be heard everywhere, and for the fact that it was a library I was a little shocked at the rumbling noise. As if I was entering a mall, tall metal gates that I had to go through demanded my student ID. I saw other students move swiftly between the poles and swish their ID quickly at a screen and I tried to emulate the gesture, completely overwhelmed with all of the technology. With I beep the gates opened and I stood still to admire the interior of the building. Standing in the middle, and elevator right in front of me lead to the different levels of the library. When I looked to the right I saw a reception and an information center, and to the left the toilets and another gate leading to a cafeteria where to be found. Stepping into the elevator I looked at the signs that signalled me which level I had to go to and I pressed the button. Floor 7 out of 12. This crap is huge! More and more students entered and left the elevator again, stopping at every floor to change its inhabitants. After some minor bumps in the road, I finally got to my desired floor. When the metal doors opened, I finally felt the silence. Shelves and more shelves of book were to be seen, students rummaging through them to find what they were looking for. Maybe it was the fact that the library was so huge, but i didn’t see too many people here. Looking up at a sign that read “Arts and human sciences” I knew I was at the right place. Walking inside I started to look for my books. Big mistake. The labels on the books were highly confusing, and I had no idea where to look. I peered at my list again. Introduction into Culinary Arts vol.1 – [1998-TR-CA-54] Huh? What about the good old alphabetization? I had no idea what those codes meant, and after only finding books on history and other weird subjects, I had to check for help. I went back to the entrance of the library and followed the arrow sign that said ‘reception’ until I found a desk with a young woman sitting behind it. She was focused on her laptop, quickly typing away as I approached her. “Hi”, I whispered and she shot up in her seat. “Oh, sorry, uhm can you help me find these books please?”, I whispered again as she visibly relaxed and smiled lightly. “Yeah, sorry I’m a bit jumpy today. What books are you looking for? Wanna read them here or rent them?”, she asked in a hushed voice and I realised I didn’t have to whisper all too much. “Rent please, but I have no idea where to find these. The codes are really weird”. She stood up from her stool and walked around the desk towards me. “Are you new

here? The codes are confusing at first but you’ll get used to it”. I nodded and handed her my list, and she concentrated on that for a moment before showing me something. “See that code? It’s made so you can narrow your search. [1998-TR-CA-54] means you look for the shelf number 54, then for CA which stands for culinary arts, then the authors initials which are ‘Tatum Rebecca’ and then the release year 1998”, her fingers pointed on each letter combination and then to the shelves around us. Puzzled, I still looked at the myriad of shelves in front of me and she must’ve caught my expression because she stifled a laugh and took a step towards the shelves. “Want me to help you?” I nodded and she replied with a hum as she started walking. “The library gets a little confusing at first”, she mused as I walked next to her, “I think I might’ve seen you on a library tour before? Are you new?” I nodded, “I just moved here, so everything is a little weird to me still”. Her eyes crinkled shut as she stifled another laugh and suddenly looked a bit taken aback, she looked to the floor and back up at me but not fully, “Yeah I felt the same when I came here for my first semester”. She turned around to face me and I looked down at her nameplate. Asami. Beta Committee. I pointed at the name plate with a cocked brow, “so you’re a beta?” She stopped in her tracks and gave me a look. “Uh yeah, I am”, she followed my gaze and suddenly started talking really fast, “Oh my god! I didn’t even introduce myself. You’re new you must be taking everything in still!” “It’s fine, I mean I saw it on your nameplate. Is Asami okay?”, I inquired and she nodded lightly with a shy smile. “I’m Osamu Miya, nice to meet you”, I slightly nodded my head as well and she beckoned me closer to follow her. As she walked through the shelves and pathways she explained more about the library. There were way too many faculties and abbreviations to remember, but luckily they hung up a lot of flyers that showed which abbreviations stood for which topic. I only needed a couple of these, but after finding the first two books my head started to buzz with all the information. “And here you have the department of culinary arts, its quite remote from the rest of the library but I guess you’ll have your peace and quiet here!”, Asami chimed happily, her voice raising a little bit as there were almost no students here. It was actually quiet nice to have no background noise. It reminded me of home, when I walked to school and I left a sleeping Atsumu behind. The breeze catching my face as I made my way to school. I hummed and looked around to locate the last books on my list. For my business and economics classes we had already found the book I needed, well Asami found them, but this time I tried to get the book on my own. Walking towards the shelves before the beta could even move, I already found the correct number out of sheer luck and started to check for the right letter combinations. I felt Asami roaming behind me, I could smell her rosey scent behind my form but she didn’t budge. “Ah”, I exclaimed as I pulled out the book I needed with a little too much excitement. She clapped quietly and nodded proudly. “You caught on really quickly! We could use a bit of help from someone like you in the committee!” “The beta committee?”, I asked with my index finger pointing to her name tag again. “Yeah! We always have a place for new students, and you could even work here in the library”, she concluded and I smiled a little. “Well I am flattered I guess, but I am not a beta”. She staggered for a moment and looked at me confused, until I saw her nostrils flare up and she held her hand to mouth as she realized her mistake. “Uh, uhm I- I’m sorry I-“, she started stuttering and I cut her off with a relaxed shake of my head. “No worries, I actually get that a lot”. “Ugh, no it’s not fine, I shouldn’t have assumed your secondary gender that so weird”, she slumped a little and took a step back, her eyes not even reaching my face anymore. “It’s no big deal, I get

this often even at home. People think my scent is a bit more subdued so” She nodded but still looked away, a weird silence brooding between us now. It’s really not that big of a deal though. “Oi!”, hushed yell came from the door and we both looked towards it to find a lean man leaning onto it. “The reception was empty, what are you doing?” “Oh, no”, the beta mused and clasped her hands together anxiously before looking back at me, still more distant than at the beginning of our conversation. “I’m sorry, that’s Akaashi I have to go back to the reception!”, and she turned around to meet the other guy before I could say anything. She was so jittery all of a sudden. “Uh, yeah”, I mumbled back as I watched her interact with said Akaashi, before I turned back to my list. They both left soon after that, and I was left alone in the silence of the shelves trying to find the few books I had left. After a couple of minutes and endless shuffling, I counted off my list and stopped with a satisfied huff when I realized I had everything I needed. The books were actually quite bothersome to carry, so I snagged one of the book trolleys that were laid out to help with transporting the literature and leisurely pushed it next to me as I approached the reception again. This time, there were a couple of students standing around the computer, and I curiously walked closer. “No way, I can’t take Thursday. I have extracurriculars there!”, another male beta I assumed argued with Asami who was typing frantically on her computer. “Well I don’t have any other slot for you, I’m sorry. It’s either Thursday for you or Akaashi, and Akaashi is already taking Friday this time”, she mumbled a bit more annoyed than I expected. She really was different when calm. I already released when she assumed I was a beta that she felt comfortable, but when she suddenly drew back I felt her environment must be very precise for her to relax. Good thing Tsumu isn’t here. “I can take both days”, Akaashi mumbled, and I took another step and cleared my throat to interrupt. “Sorry, can I just check these out?”, I asked and Akaashi immediately nodded and typed up something into the computer even though Asami was still sitting in front of it. As a result she retreated into herself with a squeal and grumbled when Akaashi slightly pushed away her swivel chair. “Can you give me the books you wanna take with you?”, the aloof beta asked politely and I pushed the books towards him. As he scanned every item on the list, I felt the eyes of the other male beta on me. I wasn’t sure if I had seen him before somewhere, but he looked at me with slanted eyes before scrunching his nose and inhaling my scent. He suddenly calmed down a lot and even smiled a little, as if his cause for concern was suddenly gone. “You’re new here aren’t you? What’s your name hm?”, he tilted his head and leaned forward on the counter. “Uh, yeah. I’m Osamu Miya, nice to meet you”, I prompted back and the beta nodded, like he was pleased with the answer. “Any interest in joining the beta committee? It’s very-” Asami nudged his arm and furiously shook her head to signal something and I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Is it really that ambiguous? “What Asami? I’m trying to recruit fresh meat here! We need the help!” “Actually I am not a beta. I’m an alpha”, I retorted lamely, and I felt a twinge of surprise when Asami’s eyes shot up to me in fear. “What is it?”, I asked and felt annoyance crumbling up slightly. “Oh”, the beta I was talking to shot back with venom in his voice and Akaashi only sighed while typing in codes for the books,” and alpha are you?” I nodded with scrunched eyebrows. What is he getting at? “Well, then you can leave”, she kissed his teeth and looked to the side as if disgusted. “Futakuchi! You can’t say that! It’s borderline discrimination at this point!”, Asami pulled at the guys sweater and he broke away but kept looking at her as he spoke. “No way! We have enough alpha’s strolling around terrorizing us! What about us hm?!” “Don’t mind him. He’s very”,

Akaashi looked at Futakuchi and then back at me with disdain written in his features, “passionate”. “It’s about beta’s not getting the recognition they deserve! Beta supremacy!”, he whisper yelled at Asami who only sank her head into her hands. Beta supremacy? Somehow that didn’t feel right to me. Personally I didn’t take much care into being an alpha, the whole secondary gender thing wasn’t of much interest anyways. I generall talk to the people I wanna talk to, and when it comes to more serious relationships, I tend to not have a type. Although most Alpha’s go for omegas and vice versa, and most beta’s tend to stay in their own bubble, I felt it was almost restricting to think about that when choosing somebody. “Pay them no mind please”, Akaashi pushed the rented books towards me and I pulled them towards the small trolley with a nod. “You can take that one to your dorm, but please bring it back as soon as you can”, the calm beta continued and I thanked him with another nod. That Futakuchi guy still kept on glaring at me, while Asami swatted at his arm when she realised I stared too. “Yeah I’ll bring it over later, thank you”, I looked at the beta girl until she finally looked back and thanked her as well. She nodded and I turned around to get back to the dorm. My phone buzzed before I could even start moving and I checked my text messages. Tsumu: bring me pudding pls? You’re insufferable… Tsumu: thx o3o With a sigh I pushed the phone back into my jeans pocket and left the library behind.

Previous Next

4 notes · View notes

fanaiceach · 4 years ago

Text

@celestieu said: delicate fingers tangle through his hair, such tenderness she offers one many would declare a monster. but many might call her one too, she has lived as one for many decades: monsters deserve their nurturing too. " you have not hunted in some time. you will weaken if you keep it up. let me provide for you, like a good woman who seeks to take care of her man. " a hand to cheek, a caress. " i trust you. trust me. "

Adaptation had always been one of Priwen’s greatest weapons. They could have reveled in their stagnancy, rooted their methods in antiquity and refused to budge in the name of upholding tradition. But their order would have been far shorter lived if that was the case. In his tenure as the leader of the Guard, Geoffrey prided himself on his research, his constant quest for new methods, techniques, and technologies to employ on hunts. Not all of it was a wholesale success, but then, such was the way of progress. What mattered was the overall trajectory of improvement.

That mindset stayed with him throughout his leadership, and he carried it with him even after Priwen was little more than a memory in his mind. He’s learned to modernize. There are still things to be said, of course, for the classic approach. The old staples, tried and true. Nothing will ever feel as right in his hands as the weighted hilt of his sword, but discretion is becoming increasingly important. He hadn’t minded, once, walking around London and having everyone know his profession -- in fact, he’d almost reveled in it. But things are different now. Everyday the world seems to shrink, and notoriety isn’t always something enviable.

As the hunter has evolved, so to has his prey. It’s something of an oxymoron -- because it’s harder for monsters to hide, it’s also harder to find them. Their world has gotten smaller, too. Everything is publicized, now. Slaughter on the streets doesn’t go unnoticed like it might have a century prior. If any sort of creature knows what’s good for them, they’ve either learned how to blend seamlessly with the throng of humanity, or they’ve dug themselves so far into isolation they’re all but impossible to track down. There are still targets to track down, of course, reckless newborns and egotistical elders who have grown tired of their societal confines. Geoffrey still hunts them, doesn’t quite know what or who he’d be without that aspect of his life, even if he’s begun over the years to fill his time with other things. Family, for one.

But even if he wanted to hang up his crossbow and kick back in -- by now well-earned -- retirement, it isn’t as though he has a choice. The hunger is still there, still burning in its all-consuming might. Once upon a time satiating himself had been a routine, back when things were simpler. At first feeding was just a bonus to a successful hunt. His core drive was still to rid the world of a vampiric burden -- the fact that he could make a meal of them for a change was an additional bit of good fortune. Over time, though, the hunger became a reason to hunt. A reason why he couldn’t stop, even when there were times in which he wanted to.

It isn’t a lifestyle meant to last infinitely. Some leave the hunt for other pursuits -- careers, fortune, love. Those in it for life tend to be in it until death. Geoffrey died, in a sense, the moment he woke up as he is now. He’s certainly found other pursuits over the length of his impossible life, too. But the hunger makes no such allowances.

It’s been some time since his last hunt. Since his last meal. Months, he thinks, though he’s trying not to keep track. He has contacts, others in the field who know when to call in a specialist, but there’s been little more than silence. Animal blood doesn’t quite fill the gaping pit he feels clawing at his insides, but it takes the edge off -- even if he still looks paler, a touch more drawn and dull about the eyes. Geoffrey puts up a good front, though. At least until he’s kissing his wife and spends a few moments too many inhaling deeply against the crook of her neck. With all the gentleness and patience -- and perhaps the martyr tendencies -- of a saint, she doesn’t chastise or question him.

Instead, she offers.

He pulls away quickly at that, as though the words are a shock to his system, his fangs pressing incessantly against the inside of his lips. Geoffrey has never fed from a human, let alone a beloved being such as Madeline. There are some, he knows, that make themselves willing victims of a vampire’s bite, whether for their own pleasure or assumption of profit, or out of some twisted sense of obligation to a monster they care for. But Geoffrey can’t say that he understands it. Though he’s come to accept a majority of his condition, there’s nothing inherently desirable about it or the diet it requires. Feeding is a private thing best kept away from anyone whose high regard he wants to be held in.

He won’t subject her to that. He can’t.

It isn’t a lack of trust that causes him to shy away from her hand. It’s shame, directed entirely inward. “Is this what I’ve done? Caused you to think yourself insufficient? You do take care of me, love.” Perhaps more than she knows. “But I cannot expect you to provide for me like this. I’d sooner drive a stake through my own heart than allow it.”

And he means that sincerely.

#celestieu #𝕬𝖘𝖐𝖘 #long post #oop #𝖁; 𝕲𝖔 𝕸𝖞 𝕺𝖜𝖓 𝖂��𝖞

21 notes · View notes

lowkeysaurus · 4 years ago

Note

hi, can i get hp/mcu ship pls? i'm a 5'7 straight latina with long brown hair, have a septum and two strands of my hair dyed orange. im a huff and an enfp. studyng to be an history teacher, im a human rights activist since i was very young. i dance since i was a child. i enjoy all types of music. very sensitive, loving and energetic. i'm terrible at romantic relationships bc its hard for me to trust. I believe in always doing the right thing and in people. also love dogs and tangerines, thanks!

Honestly this took DISRESPECTFULLY long to do but I really did not feel up to doing ships for a little while, but here you gooo!!

For MCU I ship you with:

Steve Rogers! I'll be honest, you made it very clear contextually in this that you're a really good people and that definitely inspired this! You and Steve would get along like a house on fire due to this, both being very morally right people, and no he probably won't be able to help you much with the history study because he was only around for a very short time period before he was in the ice, but he'll definitely be there when he can to help you destress after school/a study session. Also, he's never danced! With anyone! Once Upon a time he was going to dance with Peggy after the war was over and done with (I actively ignore the fact that he went back to be with her), but now she's gone and that leaves it up to you to teach him how to dougie ;) sorry that was cringe but it fit really well lmao. Back on track, Steve is also really bad at romantic relationships, or just relationships in general. He's a very likeable person and he apparently trusts really easily unless he knows better, but he's not great with girls and a lot of people he might have considered a friend are dead and in the ground now, which probably means he's not going to want to let himself get attached to anyone! Not for fear of them dying albeit yknow... Probably, but just an issue with placing his trust in others. It's up to you two to get through that together, and maybe Sam will be there to help you both.

For HP I ship you with:

Neville Longbottom! Neville here is a ridiculously loyal, good person which is why I think you two would be a good fit! He stood up for what's right against lord voldemort and his entire army himself and that's not something we should forget any time soon. Also, like you, he went into teaching! Two very different subjects but teaching nonetheless, so he's going to understand if you're tired and stressed after school or teaching a class! Kids and teenagers aren't easy to deal with and that's something he knows first hand. I also see him as someone who will be willing to randomly slow dance with you if asked, or someone whose going to take a little bit of effort into persuading to learn a routine or something of the like however he'll budge in the end, only to mess up hilariously and have you two in a fit of laughter! Now, with your issues with trusting people, he may not know how it feels firsthand to not be able to blindly put your trust into someone, but he's going to understand and he's going to be with you every step of the way, and he's going to be so patient while you try to overcome it! He's just in general a very sweet person, and you two would go together really well <3

#ships #neville longbottom #steve rogers #marvel ships #harry potter ships

8 notes · View notes

hollowcrovvn · 5 years ago

Text

Every Breath (RK900 x f!reader | reposted)

Rating: M

Pairing: RK900 x f!Reader Summary: Nines has you in his sights, all parameters designating you as his perfect potential partner. Though he is a bit confused on what type of partner that means. Notes: SHAMELESS PWP because I’m thirsty and needed a tall glass of Nines. I GOT TUMBLR FLAGGED SO REPOSTING (ao3)

Working with Gavin had been satisfactory. RK900's, Nines, performance had been holding steady at 96.2% effectiveness, but there was always room for improvement. RK900 knew it made the humans around it more comfortable to refer to "him" with masculine pronouns and had labeled him with the nickname "Nines" to further his assimilation and to avoid confusing him with the "other" similar looking but obsolete model RK800. It was unconsciously done, humans liked to be around their own kind, which is why he looked like this to begin with. There were probably better forms, more structurally sound and efficient, but Nines was trapped within this human shell. He envied computers sometimes, if only for their streamlined aesthetic, but alas, he needed a means to carry his bio-components from room to room.

Speaking of people who only existed to bring their brain room to room, Gavin entered the offices at that moment with you alongside him. Scans indicated heightened caffeine levels in both Gavin's and the officers bloodstream; coffee date? No. Account balances showed Gavin had only paid for his own. Nines relaxed back, crossing his leg to rest on his knee. He was programmed to display more human characteristics than the RK800 was capable of— well, before it deviated. Again, all simply a means to make him appear more approachable and therefore, more human. Did it work? Hardly. Everyone eyed him with unveiled suspicion. They had accepted the RK800, but such courtesy had not yet been extended to him.

He had to work on that.

"You're in my seat, tin-can." Gavin said, the insult having of late lost much of its malice and becoming almost as much of a nickname as the "Nines" he had bestowed upon him. Nines stood and moved to the opposite chair, feeling no need to argue the point that technically, it was his. Nines had learned his first week of Gavin's preoccupation with starting needless conflict, you on the other hand were far less simple of a puzzle.

You didn't like him, that was evident by your tone, refusal to meet his eyes and your micro-expressions that often expressed ill-ease. There was however, some other cues that indicated the exact opposite. Nines had categorized you under "mixed feelings" in regards to his existence.

You were an officer, but specifically you were trained for and worked in crime scene investigation and had been the rising star forensic photographer for about three years now. A quick file search showed you were still waiting to take the detective's exam, hoping for a career change. Nines disapproved. He wanted you to take your exam as soon as possible so he could submit his request to be reassigned as your partner. He had been watching you closely, examining how you worked scenes and how you processed evidence. He had listened in on your conversations with other officers to get an idea of your personality, hobbies and other personal information needed to determine how well you'd fit.

It was simple math. All probability suggested you would raise his effectiveness level to 98.8%. A 2.6% increase was very appealing, along with the fact you were the most likely to "bond" with him over Gavin or any other officer. Nines knew this of course, because of that the one factor you had that no one else did, the thing that filed you under "mixed feelings". Your pupils expanded when you looked at him and the beat of your pulse was less to do with fear and more to do with excitement. In short, despite your reservations, you were sexually attracted to him. He had paid attention to your interactions with the RK800 and found no similar reaction, which indicated it was specific to his model. Nines could work with that.

Parameters adjusted and he gave a friendly smile to you, making sure it reached his eyes.

"Good morning, officer. How are you feeling today?"

"Jesus," you said with a scowl, "You know, it's kinda rude to scan people without permission." you said, circles under your eyes, "It's called a hangover, Nines. Keep it to yourself."

"I didn't—" Nines started, noting now all the tell-tale signs of veisalgia now that you had mentioned it, "I apologize, ma'am. I did not scan your vitals, I was simply trying to be polite."

Unlike Gavin, your face lit up red, burning with sudden embarrassment.

"Oh..."

"Busted." Gavin said with a laugh, taking his seat.

"Er— sorry. I just assumed."

"It's quite alright, officer. It has been a very eventful week for you. Studying for the detective exam?"

Now the embarrassment turned into something akin to shame, veiled with anger. Parameters needed to adjust again. Somehow he'd said the wrong thing, as if he was judging her night time excursions.

"Do they program you to be a smart ass, or is that just you?"

"I am most certainly programmed to be smart." he said, definitely being one now.

Gavin would have reacted negatively to the quip, but your features softened and your expression became one of vague admiration for the joke.

"I bring it up because I would like to be of help. If you need someone to go over terms or do practice questions, I am able to access past tests and example questions going back several years."

"So can a computer." you said.

"I'm better company."

Gavin snorted as he listened in, shaking his head.

"Nines, why you getting up in her business? Don't you got some 001's to compile or some shit?"

Nines ignored him, eyes fixed only on you. He used his appearance and expressions to his advantage, artificially expanding his own pupils and leaning back in his chair in a way that was open and inviting. He had removed his jacket prior to your arrival and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, displaying the muscles of his arms and the broadness of his shoulders and chest more obviously. Human mating patterns were so *easy* to mimic and based on how your eyes were everywhere but on his right now, his efforts were quite effective. Your core temperature levels had risen slightly, a specific concentration noted between your thighs. An excellent sign.

You sucked a corner of your lip into your mouth as you appeared to consider the offer.

"Why the hell not?"

Gavin shot you an impetuous look.

"What? I need all the fuckin' help I can get. Might as well use the tools CyberLife saddled us with before they take over."

The words "mission accomplished" registered in Nines feed, invisible to all but him. A new objection presented itself:

Establish bond with future detective.

---

Practice was hardly something you needed. Based on your answers to the first few practice problems Nines determine you were good, very good. You combined the objectivity of academia easily with that human factor, that originality to approaching problems. It was obvious you hid these accomplishments from your fellows like Gavin, choosing to fit in more than stand out in that regard. As you sat diagonal from him at your kitchen table, eyeing over a new logic puzzle Nines sent to your tablet, he took the chance to open some files within his mind and peruse your photos.

You were also more than adequate at capturing a crime scene, there was an artistry to your attention to light and contrast, making sure every detail was preserved. This was more than just attention to detail though. Another search brought up more pleasant images, hosted on a freelance photography site under your name. The contrast of dark and light remained, both in color and subject matter, but the photos were more “light hearted” than a crime scene shoot of course.

When his attention came back to present he noted you were staring at him rather intently, tilting your head and sitting back and then forward a few times, adjusting him in the lens of your minds eye.

“Why did you want to help me?” you said, tossing down your stylus and heading to the kitchen. When you returned, you had a bottle of vodka, juice and a glass. Singular. You poured at least a double shot into the glass and chased it with orange juice. Swirling it unceremoniously you began drinking it very quickly.

“You would make a good detective.” Nines said simply, knowing that as you weren’t a direct commander, he could opt to ignore or even lie in response to certain queries.

“Gavin thinks you have a crush on me.”

“That’s not possible, I am a machine. But...” Nines paused, leaning forward slightly, “I hope we might be closer. I’d find it agreeable for you to “like” me.”

You hummed, finishing off your drink and going to pour another. Nines hand closed over the top of your glass, stopping you.

“We’re still studying, officer.”

“Thought you said you wanted me to like you?” you said with a slow smile, putting your hand over his own to move it aside. He didn’t budge, instead capturing your hand in his own and pushing it away.

“I do.”

“See, I’m not convinced, Nines.” you said, a challenge. Parameters were adjusting, fitting to the task.

O Convince

X Give Up

Choose Approach:

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"Would I be willing to assist you in passing your exam if I did not want you to have a favorable opinion of me?"

"Oh no, that I believe. It's the why, that you ain't sold me on."

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"You are a very intelligent and capable, woman. You deserve to make detective and I would consider myself lucky to work with you."

That was laying it on a bit thick, but something in his words had peaked your interest, a slow smile starting at the corner of your mouth.

"A "woman"— not an "officer"? So you can make the distinction then?"

Nines brow furrowed, slightly confused, "I am programmed to observe outward appearances and use of pronouns to establish the correct gender of a person, yes."

"There are lots of capable women officers on the force, and Gavin is a good detective too."

X Flattery

O Rational

^ Logical

"I know. I ran the probabilities. But if I were partnered with you, I would be better at completing my missions by a factor of two point six percent."

The truth at last. You sat back, grinning to yourself.

"And why would you think I'd stick it to Gavin and accept you as a partner?"

Nines paused, wording carefully, "Humans enjoy working with co-workers that they enjoy the company of. If you liked me more than Gavin, then you'd be more likely to accept such a request."

You stood, pushing the chair back as you came around the side of the table. You were close, close enough he could register that same spike in your temperature through his dermis without using a scan.

He looked up at you, purposefully expressionless.

"How were you planning on getting me to like you better?" you said, voice low, "Given your display at the office today, I think I know." You took the opportunity to take back your glass, setting it aside though as you seemed now more intent on a different kind of pursuit.

"Anyway within the confines of reason and legality." Nines answered, moving back in his chair to stand but finding himself suddenly incapable of doing so as you straddled the chair and sat down in his lap.

Nine— was not programmed for this. But he would be, in approximately .2 seconds as he downloaded the pertinent information. You leaned a forearm against his chest, resting the elbow of your other arm against him as you put your chin against your fist. You observed him with an almost casual curiosity, despite the way you sat astride him, the heat of you making his sensors spiral through several data points so fast his parameters shifted.

Engage in consensual sexual activity to solidify bond.

"You surprise me." Nines said, earning him another curious look.

"How so?"

"I never thought you'd be one to want to fuck an android."

His obscenity threw you off guard and you seemed prepared to protest, even drawing back and the shift in your weight indicating you were preparing to get back up. Instead though, Nines stood, arms bracing beneath your thighs as he pushed you up unto the surface of the table. The glass clattered, falling over and rolling off the table to land on the rug beneath with a heavy thud.

"Keep dreaming, tin-can." you said, pushing your hand flat against his chest. He made no attempt to get closer, "I only sleep with people who have a pulse."

Nines tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowed. He reached up slowly, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand a little further down on his chest. When you felt the pulse beneath, steady and strong, it was startling— the exact reaction he wanted.

"Qualifier met." Nines said, simple. Direct.

Despite yourself you huffed a laugh, "Well... fuck me."

"That is what we are discussing." Nines said.

"Too much discussing. Not enough doing." you said and the hand on the center of his chest balled into a fist in his jacket as you pulled him down, catching his lips in a biting kiss.

His LED turned from blue to red without even pausing at yellow. When you drew back, there was blue blood on your lips and the taste of thirium in both your mouths. Something in Nine's eyes sharpened, even as his lids fell half closed. He wiped the cut on his lip with his thumb, looking at the blood with vague interest before he cupped your face in his hand and smeared the blue across your chin and then up to your lips. Your tongue chased the movement and he pressed the pad of his thumb down against it almost as a reprimand.

"You're wearing too many clothes, officer. We'll need to take them off." Nines said, hands already undoing the front of your jeans. You tugged your shirt off, throwing it off into the room before straightening out your hips more so Nines could pull off your jeans in one smooth movement. The cold was a shock as you realized he'd managed to completely undress you from the waste down, your panties hem flush with the hem of your jeans as he tossed them aside.

You were left in nothing but your bra, which Nines hooked a finger in the front clasp, pulling it up a bit from your breastbone. A snap of his fingers and it was open, slipping it off your shoulders. It was not lost on you that Nines remained entirely dressed, still secured up to the neck in the high collared uniform.

"I can tell you like to misbehave," Nines said, stopping your attempt to pull him in close again, "But it's just to hide from them how you crave structure. Keep your hands down."

The immediacy in which you followed the command, setting your hands on the edge of the table, drew a half smile to the corner of his lips.

"You need direction. Someone to guide you." Nines laid his palm flat on your collarbone, slowly moving up your neck and then down, tracing the curve of your breast with the back of his knuckles. You arched your chest forward into the touch, Nines clicking his tongue scoldingly.

"Turn around, palms flat on the table. Don't move."

Something in your eyes sparkled, even as you did as you were told, however slowly you did it. Making a spectacle of yourself, swaying your hips invitingly as you bent over. Nines could barely stop himself from running his palm over your ass, squeezing. Suddenly that same hand was on your back, pushing you a little further. You gasped, the table cold on your heated skin, nipples pebbled and hard as they occasionally brushed the surface.

"This is why you would be a perfect fit... " Nines continued, nudging your legs apart with his own. He rested his hand on the cleft of your ass, spreading your vulva with his thumb, "... intelligent, loyal," he slipped his hand between your legs, cupping you, stroking your folds with his index and middle finger until you were up on your toes, trying to maneuver more pressure into the light touch, "...Obedient."

The sound of his palm connecting to your ass was loud in the silence, the cry that came from your throat even more so. You stood still again, moaning in frustration as you clawed at the table.

"Patience, officer."

"Just do it, for christ's—"

Another slap, this time it actually stung just a little, sending satisfaction in trembling waves down your spine that Nines could see with every scan. Despite what he said, he slowly slipped a finger inside, the sound so obscene with how wet you were already and so fluid that he was quick to add another.

"You're already ready for me, aren't you?" Nines said, moving faster, deeper. You had to be able to feel the warm trickle of your own fluids running down your thigh, "I know you've seen me watching you. Assessing your qualities."

His finger hooked and your body arched inward, jerking as you gasped, a moan strangled in your throat as he found that spot and pressed on it again and again. Your thighs trembled, tingling sensations collecting at the base of your spine and spreading out in a growing spanse over your body. Right when you were there, Nines stopped, taking his hand from you and wiping the fluid onto the side of your hip.

You made a noise of protest, rising up from the table, but his hand was on your back again, pushing you all the way down.

"You were happy enough to wait to take the detective exam— to make me wait. Now you wait."

It was quiet for a moment, not being able to see what Nines was doing was clearly both unsettling and arousing as he watched you wiggle, desperately trying to keep yourself still but almost coming apart with the anticipation. Nines unbuckled the front of his belt, unzipping just enough. RK900 were outfitted in every possible way, with the latest programming and technology in all aspects of human sexuality. It was effective in helping understand certain— "crimes of passion".

Nines let the head of his cock just barely brush your vulva, sliding it up and down the slick soft skin, enjoying the velvety feel of it against the sensitive modulars designed to simulate all the human sensations. Nines swallowed thickly, trying to keep his parameters clear and set while also feeling the conflicting confusion of multiple possible decisions. He settled it down to two.

Choose Approach:

X Deep Pace: Slow

O Quick Pace: Fast

"Show me how much you want me." Nines said, eyes heavy as he watched you look at him over your shoulder, bracing your hands on the table as you pushed back against him, trapping his cock between his pelvis and your ass as you bounced up on the balls of your feet, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

"Tell me you want to be mine."

This wasn't part of the mission. Why was he saying these things? Why were his biocomponents tightning— anticipating?

"Yes— I do. I do, please...pleaseplease, Nines."

Well. How could he deny you when you said such pretty things?

He aligned himself to your entrance and with a shaking sigh, sunk into you to the hilt. It was almost unbearably tight, your walls involuntarily spasming, gripping at his girth as you tried to adjust to the suddenness of his size and the feeling of delicious fullness. He took a ragged breath, pulmonary functions seemingly malfunctioning from what he could tell through the haze of his parameters, demanding, ordering he begin his approach.

Nines slipped out only slightly and then, still seated deeply inside you, he thrust forward hard and sudden. The sound of his hips against you was almost as loud as the slap, skin hitting together wetly. You whimpered, the shock of pleasure with just that faint mix of pain was enough to make your heart pound with anticipation for the next thrust. Nines drew back, controlled and methodical as he paused for a little bit longer, throwing you off each time he pounded back in. How he could possibly keep this up without loosing his mind was beyond your comprehension no doubt. Nines could feel your wetness soaking into the fabric at the front of his jeans, so smooth and hot. The parameters flashed in his mind

X CCCCCONtiN##UE P&CE O Faster

Nines gripped your upper arms, holding you down firmly as he snapped his hips forward, that perfect control slipping as he hunched over you, seating himself in as far as he could and then rocking in small tight circles. You broke out into a litany of expletives, your body moving involuntarily as you pushed back into him, moving your hips in pace with him.

"Oh fuck— oh fuckfuckfuck!!"

Your body was so warm, Nines only explanation was that he must have overheated. That was the only logical explanation for how quickly he spilled, spurts of artificial cum coating your insides with unnatural coolness. Your entire body shuddered with the force of your own orgasm, a sudden rush of fluid taking a moment to register in Nines addled mind. He'd made you squirt.

Nines took in a few unneeded breaths, finding it helped stabilize him. He released your arms and drew out carefully, watching the milky substance slip out from inside you. He used the head of his cock to push it back in, letting it drip back out around him. Nines hummed, quickly finding your discarded shirt and using it to clean himself before he tucked his softened cock back into his jeans, buckling his belt and adjusting his jacket..

"Careful." he said, noting you were righting yourself back up on unsteady legs. He pushed you to lean back on the table, using your shirt again as he kneeled down and gently wiped the mess from your legs, noting it had trailed half down your calf. He paused before wiping one trail, casting a quick look up at you before he leaned forward and swiped it up with his tongue. You huffed a laugh, euphoric and tired.

"Don't tell me you want round two already..." you said, Nines considering for a moment before deciding you were too tired for such a thing.

"No." he said, finishing up and moving into your living room where he took a blanket from the back of your sofa and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"You should hydrate and take an anti-inflammatory pain killer. You will be sore tomorrow."

"No shit." you huffed, leaning forward to rest your forehead into Nines' chest. He— did not return the touch, simply letting you use him to prop yourself up. He knew based on his downloads "aftercare" was an important aspect in any dominate, submissive sexual encounter, but part of him felt a bit ill-prepared to offer such "care".

"Get to bed." he said instead, an order that he knew you were not disinclined to follow, "You need to rest."

"You goin' back to DPD?" you said, sitting back up and gingerly covering yourself as you headed towards your bedroom, "Or... do you wanna stay? You don't have to, ya know. You ain't my first hook up, Nines."

That—

"I'll stay." Nines said, shocked at how fast he responded without consulting all his usual parameters.

You nodded, laughing to yourself at a joke he didn't understand as you headed down the dark hall. Nines looked around the room and concluded there was some additional clean up that would need to be done.

He didn't want to even begin thinking about the other maintenance this encounter would cause for him.

#lemon #rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #rk900 x female!reader #detroit become human #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit become human fanfic

356 notes · View notes

real-jaune-isms · 5 years ago

Text

RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 12 Review/Rundown

Well well well, looks like it did NOT get much better this week than it was last week. And with Miles and Kerry saying Volume 8 will still have our heroes in Atlas, I don’t see much of a happy and satisfying end to the finale next week either. But you know what they say, the night is darkest just before the dawn. I will say, there are definitely some things in this episode that folks did not like one bit, and subject matter that must be taken quite seriously. We will get to that, and I will do my best to take care. But just to be safe we’ll save that portion of the narrative for last.

So since we’re skipping over the first scene let’s instead begin with Winter stood still in the hallways of Atlas’s research labs looking at her phone. Ironwood has sent out wanted posters for Team RWBY, JNR, Oscar, and Qrow. It was only RWBY that he saw oppose his plan, but Ruby did tell everyone else and he knows them well enough to realize they would agree with RWBY. Winter is concerned over what Weiss has done to cause this, which seems a bit rude to assume but she does know how vocal her sister is about not trusting Ironwood so... it’s a somewhat fair assessment overall. Penny is instead worried about Ruby’s warning of Ironwood leaving Mantle to die, and she can’t believe Winter seems unfazed by that news, that she is actually defending his actions. We get a reprisal of their conversation from a few episodes ago about personal feelings being discouraged in this line of work and how they need to instead do as they are told. But Penny seems to have more of a heart here than her superior, or is at least more willing to listen to it. Winter may be groomed to think that her terror about her sister’s safety is a liability and weakness and shouldn’t be allowed to affect her judgments and obedience, but Penny stands firm that regardless of what they’re told these feelings should matter. Winter tries to appeal again, saying that Ironwood is making the tough decisions as a leader so they don’t have to. But that’s taking away their power of choice. A political leader doesn’t get to just do as he pleases because he’s the leader so clearly his actions are for the good of the Kingdom... whoa. Got a little to topical there. The point is, it’s not up to Ironwood to decide these things for them. They need to be able to think for themselves, it’s part of human life to be faced with hard choices and grow from the mental turmoil of decision. Taking away that choice and forcing them to accept whatever decision he makes is taking away their freedom. Winter says this is for the good of everyone, though when Penny says this does not seem to be for the good of anyone she quietly agrees.

When we next see these two Atlesian maidens they are putting the actual Maiden into... an Aura transfer machine like the one Ozpin used on Amber and Pyrrha. Oh good, so that wasn’t in the room back in episode 5 just for funsies. But at least Winter isn’t actually killing Fria. She’s just attempting a scientific procedure that has never successfully worked before on a dying woman. That seems safer. She does say she hopes it will be painless for Fria, so at least she has some empathy and realizes this is a risky move. But Penny is still holding onto her earlier words and chooses now to throw them back in her face. Why express a personal sentiment for the comfort of another if your personal feelings don’t matter? Winter just says that she understands how serious the situation is and how necessary it is to put the Maiden powers into a healthier host so the Vault can be more effectively protected, even if it costs a good woman her life. But she admits that struggling to balance that duty with the importance of your personal feelings and your moral compass is essential and even she is having a tough time of it. But that’s what being human is. That’s not an especially comforting thought, but Penny understands. She’s doing that deadly dance in her own head too, and it’s not easily mastered. But their internal battles are interrupted by a great booming shudder outside, and Winter rushes out to check the situation. Only the flashing red emergency lights are on, and at the other end of a hallway filled with broken robots stands Cinder, who throws a fireball at Winter. She’s quick enough to dodge back into the medical room and lock the door, but that does next to nothing as a giant hole is blown in the wall where it once stood. Cinder of course believes this will be an easy slaughter of Ironwood’s “puppets”, which I think is a bit insensitive toward Penny after all the trouble she’s had with getting caught in her own strings. But of course Winter is ready to do her damn best to beat the Fail.. I mean Fall Maiden. Penny instead points out that Cinder was responsible for all the tragedy at Beacon, including her own original destruction, and Cinder laments how that was only temporary. But she assures Mantle’s protector that this time the annihilation will be far more total and leave much less to salvage. With little to no reason outside of it setting up Penny’s next line, Cinder asks what she thinks about that threat. All things considered, “it gives me personal feelings” isn’t the greatest epic one liner, though it does have the benefit of context and meaning something. Penny having the determination to stand for what she believes in is very satisfying, and I certainly hope she sticks to those convictions when Ironwood’s next orders come. But for now we have to wait on the epic fight sure to come until next week.

Now, if you want some really good banter and one liners, the return to Team RWBY’s story thread has that almost right out of the gate. Weiss is still trying for diplomacy and saying the Ace Ops should reconsider, but Harriet just sticks to what they were ordered, arrest Team RWBY. To this end, she puts the office in some kind of lock down with metal barricades covering the escape routes of the giant windows and the door. Vine doesn’t want his side to have to use force, but Blake makes it clear the girls won’t hesitate to fight if the Ace Ops don’t back off. Marrow is the only one who doesn’t draw his weapons at first, he really doesn’t want to have to fight their new friends. But Harriet says it’s up to the young huntresses if there will be any fighting or not, at which point Ruby finally walks back from behind the desk to deploy Crescent Rose. Marrow sees this is inevitable now and pulls out his gun too, but the first attack is verbal instead. Harriet laughs at the idea of Team RWBY trying to fight the Ace Ops since they are the best of the best in Atlas, but Ruby says they sealed their own fates by training Team RWBY and now they’ve been replaced. In a feat of strength that astounds many, Ruby petal bursts past the Ace Ops... and busts open the reinforced steel of the locked doors with her speed form. Imagine what she could do if she hit a person with that kind of force... Harriet of course gives chase, annoyed that the pipsqueak is trying to outrun her and escape to most likely catch Ironwood. Ruby is playing on Harriet’s competitive nature to goad her into acting recklessly, and it works. The older woman becomes obsessive about proving she’s better, and it costs her overall. The Hare is still falling victims to challenges of speed and superiority, it would seem. The others start fighting in the office while Harriet cuts Ruby off at the elevators and their brawl begins. Ruby tries to appeal to her again, saying this kind of division and internal fighting is exactly what Salem wants, but Harriet isn’t listening. She claims she was suspicious of Team RWBY all along and now she’s been vindicated.

Meanwhile, Yang is fighting Elm in an open area back up the hall and Blake is trying to outmaneuver Vine as they both swing around and dodge each other. Elm isn’t budging much and Vine throws Blake into her grip to get Yang’s attention. He still wants them to just surrender, but Elm has taken this very personally. More than anyone else, she feels betrayed by this change of goals. I do feel a little bad since she was one of the more friendly members of the group. And when Yang says it’s not worth appealing to their better natures because they’re puppets blindly following orders now, she just gets more angry and charges the blonde down. Vine stretches out his feet to get to a vantage point while Elm lands a few hits with her hammer. We shift back over to the office where Weiss is fighting Marrow, including forming ice on the ground to make him lose footing and fire a wave of fire that he barely jumps over. It does singe the end of his tail though, and create a fog. He tries to insult Weiss, saying she’s always gotten everything she ever wanted as a Schnee so she should let something go for once. One, that’s not remotely true of her life but you never empathized enough to learn about those nasty little details. Two, You’ve spent time with her so you at least know she’s not the spoiled brat the world assumes she would be. Three, Weiss Schnee is a hard woman to bargain with and she summons her Knight to help her, saying she’s not giving up on her home without a fight.

Ruby and Harriet are seen fighting again as the latter kicks the former back into the office then berates Marrow to “cut the crap”, since he’s apparently not trying hard enough to beat Weiss. His perfectly logical excuse is that he’s just trying to incapacitate her, not the more excessive option of doing a murder. After having deflected Marrow’s boomerang from hitting Weiss, Ruby takes the chance to run for the exit again while Harriet is insisting the extra effort is necessary. Harriet of course notices and gives chase again, and we next see the Bees fighting again... where they are getting their butts kicked. Yang knocks Elm off her guard long enough to get a shot in at Vine so he’ll stop shoving Blake against a wall. Elm says now is the time to get serious and wrap this up, but Vine points out that she probably needs that pep talk herself. Blake and Yang reevaluate their plan and realize they have more teamwork than their opponents, so they’ll use that. The girls dodge their opposing pair’s attacks more successfully and throw one of the piece of debris Vine was chucking down back at him with some explosive guests. He avoids that and grabs Blake, but she’s actually a shadow clone decoy covered in sticky bombs. Without any time to dodge, Vine is sent flying and Yang leaps up to meet him. In one fluid motion she grabs his gravity cuffs/bolas and ties him up in them before slamming him into the ground hard enough to break his Aura. Everyone else takes notice. One down, three to go. This 3 pronged fight scene was already spectacular in terms of fluid animation and choreography, but this is where it goes up to 11, complete with a new song sung by 4 women including the voice of Elm herself. This new bop, called War, is sure to be a hit when the soundtrack comes out. I just wanted to let folks know since this whole episode deserves huge props even for those factors alone. Back to the combat itself, Weiss creates a bunch of sharp icicles along one wall and pushes Marrow against it with a Glyph. He manages to avoid getting skewered but then has to dodge the Knight’s sword as it chases him across the length of the icy wall. Marrow uses his Semblance to stop Weiss from sending any more glyphs or elemental woes his way, but the Knight is still after him so he jumps into the middle of the room and tells it to Stay. Unfortunately that means he’s no longer focusing on Weiss and she is unfrozen. A few fireballs and he is down for the count too. Halfway done, team!

Harriet is still running circles around Ruby and getting plenty of hits in, even knocking her to the floor and trying to cuff her. But Ruby petal bursts out of her grip and wraps the bola cuffs around Harriet’s arms and torso instead. No more punching with those techno knuckle dusters, but she can still headbutt the Huntress and keep running around. Back to the Bees, Elm is standing her ground but it’s not staying so sturdy for much longer. While she’s been dodging Blake’s leaping attacks from above the big bruiser didn’t notice Yang was turning the footing around her roots to rubble. The blonde brawler runs in to knock her down since she doesn’t have her sure footing anymore, but Elm just brings out the rocket launcher to try and shoot Yang point blank. Luckily Yang is quick thinking too and uses her Semblance for a shockwave punch into the ground that sends Elm skyward. The fiery effect enveloping her hair is really really cool to see, but what is more impressive is Blake launching off of the ceiling and Yang leaping from the ground to catch Elm from both sides in a brutal punch-slice combo that decimates her Aura before she loses the last of it as she hits the ground. I can only imagine how much that must have hurt, seeing how her body bends when Yang wallops her in the face. Three down, only Harriet to go. And she’s not going down easy. She’s dodging every shot Ruby takes at her, and catches the younger girl in a flying leg lock that makes me greatly miss MCU Black Widow. Ruby recovers quickly and dodges most of the flips and kicks that follow until the two are staring each other down from across the hall. With a determined and enraged yell, Harriet charges at Ruby again... and instead runs into a wall of ice. Weiss came to back her partner up, and the blunt impact was enough to knock Harriet out. Triumph for Team RWBY! And it was enough of a struggle for both sides to make the win feel well earned, so I don’t wanna hear claims about this being a cop out plot armor win. The team is piling up all the unconscious bodies in the middle of the hall, when in come Maria and Pietro! I missed our sassy grandma, and she reminds us why in only a single line. “This is the part where they ask us to help”. Her tendency to state the obvious and just be so done wit everyone else’s shenanigans is quite endearing, and the fact that she and Pietro rushed over to check on them when they heard there was trouble shows she was going to offer help anyway. We love you Maria, and I wish we had gotten some more of you after how you snuck into our hearts last Volume. Maybe she’ll pull another grand scheme to create a distraction in the finale? Who knows, though I do have some thoughts on what help they will actually provide. Maybe Pietro has finished the weapon upgrades he said weren’t ready yet back in episode 3, or he can re-enable their Scrolls so they can get another warning out?

But for now, we instead shift to Jaune, Ren, and Nora. They’re still looking over the mess of broken robots in Oscar’s room, and Nora in particular starts calling his name and looking down the other hallways. Sure enough, they spot Oscar rounding the corner with the Lamp in tow. Our dear leg breaker runs to hug him, very relieved that their missing friend has been found... but they hear a desperate cry from where he had come from. Sprinting towards them is... Oscar? Okay, I act like it’s some big mystery when we had all kinda puzzled it out already, but we weren’t immediately sure what the situation was going to be. The real Oscar looks like he’s been through hell by the state of his clothes, but he’s got enough fight in him to sucker punch Neo in the face and send her flying down the hall. She lands on her feet, but he knocked the lamp off of her waist and reclaims it. So she’s gonna want that back. But it seems like Ruby shared a few stories around the campfire during the trip to Mistral, because Jaune and the others know Neo’s name and apparently her reputation precedes her. We’ve got a 4 on 1 fight on our hands for the finale, and it should be a doozy. But here’s where some perspective might be necessary. We have this picture in our heads of Neopolitan, the great agile fighter who outmaneuvered and beat Yang in Volume 2 and didn’t seem all that fazed by Ruby in Volume 3. We assume that since she’s held her own without taking much of a beating for it against two of the main cast’s best fighters she’s on a whole other level and she can’t be beaten. But I think it’s more of a matter of who she’s been paired against in the past, and how the odds have been. Ruby and Yang both have particular fighting styles that Neo is naturally pretty good at evading and countering. But Jaune and Ren both have vastly different ways of fighting that she might not be so ready for, not to mention the powerhouse that is Nora. Not to mention, every fight we’ve seen her win has been a 1v1 or 2v1 where she had help from Roman. She hasn’t fought multiple people at once before, this could very well be too much for her to handle on her own and she may very well fail or have to retreat empty handed. But defeating them isn’t her objective to begin with, she just wants to get the Lamp for Cinder. So it’s going to be a matter of playing keep away, and I do hope our good boys and girl can manage it.

And now, boys and girls, we must come to the tragic portion of the episode. And it starts with how this group left off. Qrow, Robyn, and Clover are in their airship escorting Tyrian up to Atlas when they hear Ruby’s warning. Robyn is of course vocally against Ironwood’s plan, but Clover defends his boss, says he surely understands how much these goals would effect the rest of the Kingdom. Or he would, except he gets the notification that RWBY, JNR, and the others are to be arrested. So he gets up to explain, and maybe he intended to arrest Qrow at that point too. Unclear. But when he mentions that RWBY have warrants it just cements in Qrow’s head that Ironwood has gone overboard. And Robyn understands why he would want to arrest the kids, because they’re opposed to the awful plan. She takes out her crossbow on Clover saying she won’t be taken in quietly. But she doesn’t actually load a bolt into it until Clover expressly says he intends to arrest Qrow. Now Clover has his weapon drawn too, and Qrow tries to talk them both down like a sensible person. They’re almost back to Atlas, they can try to reason with Ironwood there. Unfortunately, the peanut gallery won’t shut up and Tyrian says they should stop talking and just kill each other already. And because Robyn is a hothead, she takes that as an invitation. You can feel like you should say or do something daring all you want, but as soon as someone else brings it up that’s in the air now and you can’t go back. So she shoots, Clover blocks, and it looses the bolt Tyrian’s cuffs are tied to. While Qrow gets annoyed and jumps into the fray, the criminal they all just worked so hard to capture gets loose and kills the pilot. He even puts his hat on for a laugh... and then purposefully crashes the ship into the snow. Clover is the only one quick enough to jump out.

We see Qrow walking out of the wreckage and finding Robyn’s body. She’s alive, but she needs medical attention. Clover confronts his friend and says they can get her to a hospital as soon as Qrow surrenders. Qrow points out how manipulative that is, but after everything he’s learned about tonight he’s not too shocked anymore. Like his teammates, Clover implores the other man to just give up, he doesn’t want to have to fight him. But Qrow has been through this song and dance with people he called friends before. This is the inevitable conclusion to associating with a bad luck charm like him, and that’s rather depressing. The two men resign themselves to this inevitable clash and charge each other down. Back in the ship, Tyrian seems to have nary a scratch on him but still has to figure a way out of his cuffs. And he has a very unsettling solution. He manages to dislocate his right thumb so his hand is able to slip out of the tight cords. And then he just hits his hand on the ground and pops it back into place. Personally, I’ve been watching Arrow for 8 years so the concept is nothing new after Oliver Queen has used it to escape from capture on several occasions, and I’m not that affected by seeing it here. But it is admittedly a rather gruesome body horror concept to see out of nowhere so I understand how it might have unnerved or sickened some people. The CRWBY did put out a warning on Twitter to warn people there would be something in this episode that might make people want to puke, and I can believe it would be this. Regardless, the madman unties himself completely and joins Qrow and Clover out in the snow. The two seem evenly matched, but once Tyrian makes his presence known Qrow shifts priorities to taking him down. That leaves him open to Clover’s attacks though, and it becomes an utter free for all. Unfortunately, this is when Tyrian starts talking again. With such a grudge between the bird and the scorpion, why not take Clover out together so they can settle their feud without interruption? It’s a terrible idea of course, and you should never trust Tyrian at his word. He can’t help but screw you over, it’s just his nature~. Qrow doesn’t want to side with this killer, as you would expect. But after Clover has the nerve to throw a goddamn lucky horseshoe at him, the poor guy suffers a lapse in judgement. Better the fight be 2 on 1 against Clover than every man for himself and Qrow having to guard against two opponents, I guess. So he stops attacking Tyrian and the bastard laughs his ass off at how the tables have turned and things have grown so chaotic before the two charge at Clover.

The makeshift teamwork does a good enough job of keeping Clover off his guard and they land a few hits on him, but he still fends them off fairly well and holds his own. The back and forth continues until Clover hooks Harbinger and knocks it out of Qrow’s hands. While he gets back to his feet and tries to decide if he can reach it, Tyrian is trying to claw at Clover with his hands. We see his hands glowing with his Aura so we can assume he’s trying to tear open a weak spot like he did against Fiona back in Chapter 6. But the Ace Op is nimble enough to dodge all that and wraps the faunus up in his fishing line again. To Tyrian’s apparent delight, Qrow decides to just run in and gut punch Clover instead of retrieve his weapon. And that gamble works for the moment, the punch breaks Clover’s Aura. Qrow tries one last time to talk to his former ally, to ask why he had to be so stubborn and loyal to the man telling him to do such awful things. But Clover says sticking to his convictions was a hard choice but the only right one in his mind. He trusts Ironwood after all these years, and even after knowing each other for so little time Clover really wanted to be able to trust Qrow. But their morals and ideals just aren’t aligned. In an instant, everything changes and tragedy has struck viciously and swiftly. Tyrian was left unsupervised again, and grabbed Qrow’s weapon... the same weapon that has just been thrust through Clover’s back and out his chest to leave a splash of blood on the snow. We see the reveal in a visually captivating silhouette shot where the only color besides the black of the bodies is the grey of the sky... and the bright red covering the blade. Harbinger is pulled back out of Clover’s back, he stumbles away dropping his now bloody lucky badge before falling onto his back, and Tyrian tosses the murder weapon into the snow. See, Tyrian thought it would be fun to frame Qrow for his friend’s murder and then run away while the incoming police arrest the huntsman instead of him. Only he would find that fun, Qrow is just enraged and wants to kill him where he stands. But he can’t give chase because he decides it would be better to stay with Clover in his final moments. So Tyrian gets away, oh goody... Clover seems to say he understands and he doesn’t really blame Qrow, but Qrow promises he will make sure James takes the fall for this. It was his paranoid overreacting and crazy plans to isolate Atlas from the world that lead to the arrest warrants and this whole fight after all. That’s not to say Qrow and Robyn don’t have some of the blame for getting riled up and fighting rather than surrendering to the law. But the initial problem was Ironwood. Clover wishes him good luck and breaths his last before succumbing to his wounds, and we see the sun rising behind them. Everything from the dinner party in episode 8 until now has taken place over a single brutal night... and a new day is here with new determination to make things better. But before that, we have to talk about what this whole scene meant for these two, and what they meant for the fandom.

Ever since they started interacting in Chapter 3, and even since people noticed all the good luck charms Clover carried, people had been shipping Qrow and Clover together. There is nothing wrong with doing so, their chemistry seemed quite healthy and playful and they seemed to bring the best out of each other. Clover’s good luck gave Qrow hope that he could bond with someone without that ending in misfortune like his presence has caused so often before. Even if you didn’t ship them and just thought they were good friends, you had to admit they worked well together. And a healthy male friendship is nothing to be discouraged by either. A mlm relationship is completely acceptable and to be honest is rarely seen in animated shows in comparison to wlw romances. We have a lot of female characters in this show especially so the shippers had a lot of fuel for lesbian pairings while Martial Arcs (Ren and Jaune) was one of the only gay male ships that got anywhere near as popular. But then Lucky Charm, or Luck of the Caw as I personally called it, came around and so many people were happily on board. And now Clover has died, and a few people are quite outraged. But here is what must be understood. This pairing had only just started and for all the flirting and chemistry we saw between the two men, they were not in a relationship. There was no more proof that they were headed that way than there was for Bumbleby after Volume 1. Sure there were plenty of good moments between those two in that Volume, but their bond had not grown and developed to what we see it is now. Lucky Charm was still in that early stage and we cannot explicitly say Qrow and Clover were going to be a couple. You can be sad they didn’t end up that way, no doubt about that. But this is not a case of that old tragic trope of “bury your gays”. We had no confirmation that Clover was a gay man, or that Qrow is either. We can infer things from their conversation, but that’s it. An unfortunate loss to the fandom, yes. But this was likely not intentional baiting. And it is too bad that we couldn’t have this ship become canon, it would be great to have more mlm relationships in cartoons. Even if it only stayed a friendship, we need more of those that aren’t just macho action heroes. These two were emotionally open with one another and expressed their thoughts and doubts. It was a great thing while it lasted, but hatred over what could have been should not be the response to it ending. Nuff said.

One has to also wonder how the other Ace Ops are going to react to their leader being killed. He was the most level headed of the bunch and the one to keep them all in check when egos or tempers ran high. What would they do without him? We will have to see. But as Qrow screams in sorrow and frustration in the cold snow, the fans are left just as cold on the inside while we wait for the finale where things will hopefully wrap up on a better note. Like I said at the top, the night is darkest just before the dawn. And we literally see the dawn coming over the horizon behind Qrow. This is tragic, demoralizing and polarizing. But it is sure to be the worst this Volume gets. So lets all band together and face the new day with optimism and hope.

14 notes · View notes

dearlazerbunny · 5 years ago

Text

Lie to Me (Ch. 7 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words:

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for being proof god exists

Requested Tags: @deraniel@iamverity@yasnooshka24@themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99@wegingerangelica AND our lovely new additions @tarynkauai and @stuffandstuff-stuff :D

“Lady Y/N!” A booming voice echoes down the hallway, stopping you in your tracks. Thor, looking for all the world like an excited child, jogs up to you with a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, hey, um, Thor? Prince Thor?”

He laughs from his belly, throwing his head back and making his golden hair wave. “Lady, Thor is fine. You owe me no loyalty. Please, walk with me, if you have a moment?”

You look at your watch. “Sure, I have a few minutes. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you had any news of Loki. How is he?” He falls along step beside you easily, even though he must be seriously slowing his gait so you can keep up with him. “I worry about him.”

“I mean, I don’t have a baseline of his usual moods, but as far as I can tell… sarcastic? Perpetually annoyed with the world at large? He hasn’t punched the wall again, though, at least as far as I’ve seen.”

“Indeed, that does sound like my brother.” His voice is a mixture or fondness and exasperation, and it makes you smile. Thor is easy to talk to; much less prickly than Trickster, and he clearly truly cares for his brother. And if someone like Thor cares for Trickster, then he can’t be all bad, right? “Have you spoken much? I hope he has not been too cross with you.”

“He was pretty sharp at first, but I grew up with an older brother, I can handle myself.” You shrug as you turn the corner. “Plus, we’ve had some really… interesting conversations.” A grin works its way across your face, remembering Trickster’s indignant look as you insisted he was a human teenager. “By the way, Thor, how old are you?”

Bushy eyebrows draw into the classic thinking expression. “Around fifteen hundred I believe. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just something we were talking about.” That would make him… 25ish? The image of an exasperated older brother Thor trying to contain his moody younger sibling makes you giggle.

“Truly? If the tale makes you smile so, then I must hear it!”

Are you smiling that big? You shake your head. “Honestly, I’m not sure it would make any sense if I tried to explain it.”

“I see.” He pats your shoulder with a large hand, and you have to work not to stagger under the force of it. “I am glad he has you, lady. You seem an admirable companion.”

“Thanks, I think.” You give him a friendly nose scrunch for good measure. “I do what I can.”

“I would like to thank you, though I am not sure I have anything worthy to offer…” You can practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Ah! You said you were a scholar, did you not?” You nod an affirmative. “If it does not seem boastful, do you have any questions you would like to ask? Perhaps I can add to your assortment of knowledge.”

Your jaw practically drops to the floor. Sure, Trickster had offered to answer questions, but he was hardly a willing participant. Thor would probably answer any inquiry and draw you a diagram to go along with it if you asked. “R- really? You’d do that?”

“I would be happy to be of use. Come, let us sit.” He leads you to a sort of cafeteria, where agents are milling about and swallowing mid-grade lunch food. Surprisingly, a god and a newbie agent following him in like a toddler doesn’t even warrant a side eye. “Now, throw me your worst!”

“I… I don’t even know where to start!” You flip through a random notepad, searching for inspiration, when you spot your scribbles working out Tricker’s ‘human age’. “Oh, um, do you know what infinity stones are? I’ve never heard of them, and none of my colleagues seem to know anything either…”

Thor frowns, an expression at odds with his happy demeanor. “They are… complicated to explain, and to be frank, I do not know much of them myself. But I would be happy to gather what information I can for you on the subject.”

“Okay, okay, cool. Um, what about…” your eyes widen a little. “Um. Could I- maybe take a look at Mjolnir? Just, up close. I won’t touch it, I promise!”

“But of course!” As casual as you please, he unhooks it from his belt and sets it on the table in front of you, like it isn’t theoretically the most powerful weapon in the universe. “I doubt you would harm it, fear not.”

Holy. Crap. It shines in front of you and drips of power. Gently, you trace a rune emblazoned on the side. Whosoever holds this hammer, should he be worthy… “Wow,” you whisper. Just wait ‘til your professors hear about this.

“It was made at the request of my father, Odin, from rare metals, and forged in the heart of a dying star. He also cursed it, so that only the truly worthy may wield it.” He leans forward almost conspiratorially, and gives you a wink. “Would you care to try?”

“W- what? No, I- that would be ridiculous-!” Oh my god pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

“Nonsense!” He claps you on the back heartily, practically throwing you from your seat. Thor really doesn’t know his own strength. “I guarantee you, many scoundrels less noble than you have tried!”

“I-” Oh, screw it. What the hell. ”Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Indeed! Your spirit has fire!”

Oh, lord. You tentatively wrap a hand around the grip of the hammer, which absolutely dwarfs you. If it weighed what it should, it’d probably collapse the table it sits on. Come to think of it, the physics of this… fascinating. You’ll have to ask about that next. “Here we go…” You tug once, twice, the leather handle wrapped around your wrist. It doesn’t budge. Of course. “I told you this was silly,” you tease, releasing your grasp. “As if I could move it!”

“But my lady, it is so easy!” Of course, he plucks the hammer from its perch and twirls it as though it weighs nothing. “Perhaps you should try harder, hm?”

By this point you’re clutching your sides in laughter at his antics. “Stop it, you’re making me nervous! Lose your grip and you’ll take someone’s head off!”

He sets it down once more, chuckling along with you. “Have I satisfied your curiosity? Or will you be like Loki, and never let your nose leave your books?”

“Oh, we talked about that, a little at least. He told me he likes reading.”

“I do not believe he enjoys anything more.” He heaves a long-suffering sigh. “My friends and I never understood, but I do admire his intelligence. He has run circles around us all since childhood.” There’s a twinkle in his eye you can’t miss whenever he speaks of his brother. It’s incredibly sweet.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?”

Thor nods. “We have had our quarrels, to be sure. But in the end, he is my brother.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Um, I’m pretty sure you guys leveled a town out in New Mexico in one of your… quarrels.”

The blonde doesn’t look phased. “Yes, well. He’s adopted.”

A/N: Word count is up to 42k :) only six-ish more chapters ‘til she’s done! Love y’all to pieces xx

70 notes · View notes

littlepinkneko · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Purple Rose (DMC AU)

The sun had long set over Redgrave City, many shops were closing and locking up for the long night ahead. People still roamed around to visit any shops before visiting or just to enjoy the cool summer night. Street lights were turning on and lights of shops turned off, signaling to customers that they were now closed.

All except for one.

A child appearing to be ten years of age, with short pitch black hair and violet/blue eyes stepped out of a small shop. The walls covered in rose vines,and in full bloom. The roses a pale color of lilac and all looking healthy, as they were very well taken care of by the shop keeper and her children.

“Gabriel you forgot the sign again!” a voice called out as another boy stepped out, dragging a large sign behind him to set on the corner. He looked identical except for having a mowhawk cut and bigger a little bigger than the other sibling. The first boy that stepped out jumped a little and scurried back to help with the sign but he brushed the other off and set the sign up itself.

The sign itself bore an insignia of the shop’s logo, popping out of the chalk board background. a skeletal hand holding a fully bloomed purple rose with the moon full behind it. The words all written in beautiful cursive writing and indicating what the shop was called.

The Purple Rose: medicinal herds, crystals and magiks.

“I’m sorry Connor, I just got a little to excited, we never been in the city!” Gabriel with an apologetic tone and flinched under his brother’s glare holding his chin up and adverting his gaze from Gabriel back into the shop.

“Just don’t let it be a habit, Justin and me can’t baby you ALL the time you know.” Connor huffed heading back inside the shop. Gabriel couldn’t help but glare at his brother’s back before heading back inside The shop luminated by orb shaped laterns of different soft colors of yellows, whites, and lilacs. The walls nearly covered by shelves of dried plants, grounded nearly into powders into glass jars so customers could see and look inside. Some plants were questionable to the human eye, a selected few locked inside a glass cabinet and looked from something that didn’t belong in the world.

High up on a ladder was the oldest and final brother of the triplet trio. Placing the last of the jars on the final shelves to make the shop look pleasing to his eyes. All the jars evenly spaced and in a perfect position for a quick scoop for the contents inside.

“You guys get the sign out?” Justin called down at his siblings, turning half way around to look at them from the ladder. Connor through up his hands, exasperated and rolled his eyes in annoyance even more.

“WHY YES OH GREAT JUSTIN! WE HAVE PLACED THE SIGN OUTSIDE! Jeez we’re not dumb..I mean at least I’m not.” Connor scoffed giving Gabriel a sideways glance. Gabriels opened his mouth to shoot back at his brother was stopped when the shopkeeper walked out behind a veil of beads.

A woman with long brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail stopped and looked around the shop, her left eye covered with an eyepatch bearing a pentagram on the cloth. The right eye sharing the color of a bright green, abnormal color for a human even but not totally uncommon. On her pale colored skin that was exposed for those to see where even more markings, tattoos of protection runes and words in latin nearly covering every inch of her arms and chest. In the very center of her chest in between her collar bone there was a single tattoo that stood out the most. Two crescent moons backed up against a full moon, bearing a five pointed star in the center.

“Stop being mean to your baby brother Connor, I keep telling you not to be rough.”the woman snapped as she walked passed the rebellious kid and ruffling his mowhawk. He waved his arms around to stop the woman and taken a few steps back shooting her a small glare. Sticking his tongue out in defiance at the woman before grinning.

“Someone’s gotta toughen him up Mom, figured I’d help.” Connor said with a grin but that grin soon disappeared when she let out a small sigh. “Just...know when to stop Connor.” Turning her attention to Justin that was coming down the ladder the brunette spoke again.

“Everything ready?”

“Just about Mom, I gotta let Diva, Luna and Oddie out of the cages yet.”he spoke jumping down on the final step before heading to the back. The woman had just begun to follow after her eldest son but was soon toppled over by a large red canine. She could hear Connor and Gabriel both laugh at their mother’s plight, the canine’s tail wagging a mile a minute as it began to vigorously lick at it’s owner’s face.

“Oddite! Down! HEEL!” she screeched trying to push the pooch off of her. The red doberman didn’t even budge from the shopkeeper’s pushing, it felt like she was drowning in slobber until the dog turned his attention to the boy’s and bounded off the woman and continued its ‘assault’ on Connor and Gabriel both. Connor began screaming in protest and tried to do what his Mother tried but ended with the same fate.

Death by kisses.

Sitting up and letting out a heavy sigh Nia wiped the slobber off from her face and shook off whatever was left off of her hand. Coming not too far behind, strutting out with head held high was a silver colored maine coon. The feline’s gold colored eyes looking around the shop looking displeased at the new surroundings but helped herself by taking a seat up on the counter top, right beside the cash register and promptly began to clean herself.

A Queen must always look presentable to her subjects.

What sounded like birds songs with the sound of chimes and sweet bells were fast approaching from behind the veil. Justin appearing out from the back room holding a large parrot like bird on his left shoulder. Its beautiful feathers of pastel colors of teal, purple, light green and yellows. Feathers around its face making the bird appear to have fat little cheeks, its tail long and elegant, nearly touching the floor boards. The bird is considered one her most prized possessions other than her sons, it had taken years to even find this mythical bird but Nia had found it and now uses the parrots feathers for medicinal practices.

For those who are willing to pay a shit tone of cash to bring a love one back to life that is.

“There is my lovely Diva, hello my lovely girl.” Nia cooed getting back on her feet and presented her right arm out for the bird to perch upon. Taking flight off of Justin and going on to the woman’s forearm the birds song’s became louder in excitement but soon stopped when she was being petted, letting out soft loving coo’s as her feathers fluffed up in approval of the attention she was receiving.

“I have the perfect spot for you pretty girl, right at the shop window so everyone can see how pretty you are.” Nia continued to coo and praise walking over to the large shop window. A perch had already been set for the bird and she wasted no time on jumping on and continued her sweet songs for all to hear from inside and outside the shop.

A small whine interrupted Nia’s attention from the bird and to the Doberman that sat down beside the woman. Its amber colored eyes looking up at his owner with pleading eyes. Letting out a small chuckle Nia rubbed the dog’s head in praise as well, couldn’t leave her hellhound out of all the pets.

“Excuse me, but are you open?” a brittle voice cracked from the shop entrance. Justin,Connor and Gabriel remained silent as all three of the boys stood in place and eyed the possible customer. A first glance it was just a normal looking old lady, sweet looking and had a gentle caring air about her. But if you were to give the brittle woman a second glance the old lady’s skull could be outlined by how tight her skin was.

Diva had stopped singing when ‘grandma’ walked through the shop thresh hold.

Clapping her hands together and giving the woman the warmest of smiles Nia approached the elderly woman with a skip in her step, happy to help to whatever she needed.

“Why yes of course, we have JUST opened ma’am! What can we help with you today?” Nia said cheerfully taking a step beside the woman and gracious held her forearm out for the woman to hold to keep her balance. Grandma didn’t waste anytime and accepted the help and shuffled along side Nia and gazed out the shop with beady black eyes, mouth shaped in an ‘o’ in awe at the various items and herbs on the shelves.

“I have been having issues, you see I am very frail and my joints ache sooo much.”

“I can see that ma’am, I have a few herbs that can make that pain go away for good.”

“OH! How wonderful! I’ve been to so many doctors and they are of no help at all. No help at all! I am glad I have stopped by here.” the woman cheered as Nia escorted the woman to take a seat in a plush love seat. Gentle patting the back of the woman’s hands Nia soon went to work.

“Justin, Cat Claws. Connor I need some thunder god vines. Gabriel, be a sweetheart and get Mrs..?”

“Lockheart.”

“Get Mrs.Lockheart a small bowl,olive oil and water. Oh! and don’t forget a white candle.” Nia spoke gently to her youngest. Gabriel looked at his mother full of uncertaity but nodded his head slightly and quickly rushed to the back. Mrs.Lockheart looked at Nia with a small look of confusion, cocking a brow.

“May I ask what those are for?” she croaked.

“It is part of the process Mrs.Lockheart, trust me all my remedies work with a specialty to them.” she assured turning around just in time for Gabriel come running back with the items his mother asked for. With a smile and taking the ingredients Justin came up with a small foldable table and sat it beside Mrs.Lockheart chair. Again the old woman watched with puzzlement but in fascination as Nia began to pour the olive oil and water together in the black bowl. Stirring with her right index finger Nia hummed a soft tune to herself before pulling her finger out and lighting the white candle with a match stick.

“Alrighty Mrs.Lockheart I need you to drink all of this for me. This will help with the joint pains.” Nia handed the bowl to the woman’s shaking hands, her finges too long and nails that look like they could cut into anything. Mrs.Lockheart gave Nia weary look before pressing the rim of the bowl to her thin lips and began to gulp the mixture down, a grimace on the woman’s face when she finished. Smacking and lips together and showing needle like black teeth from behind that flimsy skin.

Before the old woman could say a thing Nia lashed out with her right hand and took hold of the elderly woman’s face. The sweet demeanor burned away with Mother’s intuition to protect her own offspring.

“Water, oil, and candlelight, Bring my enemy into sight. Let me see all I need to know To protect myself from this foe!”

Mrs.Lockheart let out a piercing shrill cry as she reeled her head back in agony and began to frail around to release herself from Nia’s grasp. Nia tossed the woman off to the floor as soon as her thin flesh began to twist and contort into odd angles. Arms and legs elongated into fine point of that of an insect, her torso shrinking and head looking more of a human skull. Lower jaw jutting far out and revealing long sharp teeth the demon came up to Nia’s hip height and looked like a grotesque spider.

“YOU!!!! HOW DID MERE HUMAN LIKE YOU KNOW?!” the Critter screeched wobbling quickly wobbling itself on its legs and facing the wiccan with the bloodthirsty aura.

“See when my bird stops singing when someone comes in, she stops singing. You also smell like a rotting corpse. You Critters are not a very bright species of demon at all.” she spoke flatly with arms crossed over her chest, unimpressed by this situation. The Critter let out a low chittering growl before lunging forward to the Witch getting ready to strike Nia down from where she stood.

Of course Nia was quick to react and shoved her right hand out, palm open to reveal another pentagram in the center, glowing a fiery orange.

“Uro.”

Incinerate.

A bright flight and a loud pop the Citter screamed out in agony again, being engulfed in orange hell fire as it staggered and skittered around on the floor. Oddie began chasing after the burning demon barking in excitement, biting at its legs and tearing one off to stop the demon’s movement and to leave it thrashing on the floor.

“YEAAAAHHH!! BURN BABY! BURN!!!!” Connor jeered pumping his fists in the air and jumping up and down to share Oddie’s excitement. Justin just rolled his eyes and Gabreil covered his eyes and looked away at the sight. Unmoving and charred to nothing but ashes the demon was now dead, leaving behind a blacken spot on the floor to Nia’s dismay.

“GOD. DAMNIT. That is Mahogany! For fuck’s sakes that’s going to stain badly.” Nia whined looking at the charred spot in dismay.

“You want me to get a bucket of water and floor polish mom?”

“Yes sweety that would be great....I have to put a barrier up at the door in case another comes around. I do NOT want my floor to be black and smell liked a burned body.” Nia whimpered turning her attention to the hellhound that was happily chewing on the prized leg he got from the Critter.

“Good boy. Oddie. But next time....react quicker ok buddy?”

#DMC5 AU #Lookie at that #this is probably the longest story I ever typed up #WOO!!#Get ready for some more AU Nia and the boys in the future #DMC Nia

1 note · View note

jiminwreckedme · 6 years ago

Text

Fragments

| 1 | 2 | 3 | Chapter 4

Member - Yoongi x reader

Word count - 6K I have absolutely lost my ability to write below 5K

Summary - In a world where humanity was overruled by science, where everything not ordinary was shunned, where sympathy was an abstract concept, you found him. He, who was extraordinary in a way the world could never see. He, who did not want to become who the world wanted him to be. He, who was called Min Yoongi.

But your job? You job was to break him. To make him into something more ‘decent’ from the ‘unwanted creature’ he was seen as. Your job was to make him fall before what the world wanted. Not fall for him yourself.

But you see, human nature is funny.

It does exactly what it’s not supposed to.

“What?” You slammed your hand on the table, looking at your chief incredulously.

“I'm sorry Allev. Orders are orders. You-”

“No, what the actual fuck?”

“Language Allev.” He chided hissing between his teeth.

“Fuck language. Do you even know what you are saying? This is my patient you are talking about. MY patient. And I have a lot to say about this. Lots of words and lots of language. First of all tell me, what exactly gives them the right to take my patient away?”

“It's the military and-”

“Exactly!” You pointed out. “Exactly. They are the military. Their job is to safeguard the country. Ask them to go do that. Why are they interfering with my work? What makes them think that I will keep quiet as they take away my patient?”

“You just said it Allev. Their job is to keep the country safe. And that is why they are taking away the three frag. He's dangerous-” You were so sick of listening to this. Dangerous Min Yoongi, The Threat Min Yoongi, Unpredictable Min Yoongi.

“For God's sake stop saying that. He's not dangerous, you know nothing about him.”

“Really? Tell me something you know.” He rested his chin on his interlocked hands, leaning across the table. “Has he opened up to you yet or are you still in your own happy excited world with the fact that there is a man in this dull, grey compound who fancies you.”

You stutter, taken aback by his argument. “W-what are you talking about?”

“The truth Allev. Do you not see it or are you pretending?” Your chief got up and walked around his table, standing right in front of you. “Everyone in the institute knows how Min Yoongi looks at you. Dreamily, with those fascinated eyes etc etc.”

You blinked rapidly unable to comprehend what to say, making up your arguments fast. “It’s not fascination….it’s...it’s….I don’t know what its called? How would you feel about the one person who treats you like a human when everyone else shuns you? I’m sure it’s nothing more.....” You trailed off, feeling the pressure of his soft lips still lingering on yours. What was it? Did Min Yoongi really look at you with fascination? Was it just fascination?

“Explain that to the officials at the gate Ms. Y/n.” Your chief shrugged helplessly. “They will enter any minute now and take him away.”

You balled your fists in anger. “Oh yeah, I’ll see how.”

“Y/n, no, wait!”

And you turned around ready to storm out and reached for your card in the back pocket of your jeans but you can’t find it. Great, everything had to go wrong at the same time.

“Open the goddamn door.”

“Well maybe its a sign that you should just wait Y/n, and listen to me, the military is not meant to be messed with-”

“Open the fucking door.” You snarled, the anger in your eyes scaring the man superior to you. “Now.”

Your chief immediately reached for the button behind him, letting you out as you walked away, ready to give this oh-so-powerful military a piece of your mind. You could hear people whispering around you as you made your way down the corridors, your chief closely following you from behind, and if you heard well enough, he was making some calls as well. That should have caused panic to rise in you. You weren’t messing with just the military but the authority of the institute as well. You could fall in so much trouble for this but somehow you didn’t care. You were going to handle your own patient no matter what.

Just as you reached the gates, standing there were 5 men, signing into the visitors register as the guard handed out their passes. Visitors. Bullshit. These weren’t visitors, they were violators. Walking up to them you slammed the book shut on the last man’s hand as he filled out his details, making him jump in pain, violently shaking his hand.

“What the fuck woman?!”

“Exactly Mr.” You peered at the badge pinned to his shirt. “Kim Namjoon-”

“Officer Kim Namjoon.” He corrected you, speaking between his clenched teeth, still clutching his hand in pain.

“Yeah whoever the fuck you are,” You crossed your arms looking at him straight in the eye. “If you are here for Min Yoongi, then I must ask you to leave.”

“If by Min Yoongi you are referring to patient 613 then yes, we are here for him.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “And who are you to stop me?”

“Huh.” You huffed irritably. “Patient 613, you don’t even know his name. He’s nothing but a serial number for you is he officer?” You mocked him, unnecessarily infuriating him more. “If you must know then I am the Alleviator in charge of him. He is my patient and my case to handle. Given that I have certain responsibilities towards him I cannot allow you to take him away.”

The officer smirked turning to the men behind him, grabbing the paper they were holding out. “I can, in fact, take him away and here are the government orders to do so. It’s an official order Allev.”

Taking the paper from his hands, you quickly read through it and looked up to meet his raised eyebrows and amused face.

“Well then we have to listen to what the government has to say isn’t it officer.” Holding up the paper you read out loud. “.....permits the states military to take into their possession any patient deemed by the institute as unfit for the society, dangerous, blah, blah, blah....or has not been subjected to the NAT tests by the institute by 21 days of admission.” You flipped the pages of the document, reaching for the copy of Yoongi’s admission papers. “If you can see, according to his date of admission there are still 4 days before the 21 days deadline gets over. Which means if you want to take him away today, its not in your authority I’m afraid.” You shove the papers back into his hands. “It’s an official order officer.”

Namjoon clutched the papers tightly, narrowing his eyes. “It’s been more than 21 days since Min Yoongi has been in this institute Allev, you know that.”

“Yes but chaining him up and locking him away for 4 days does not count as admission officer. He was only registered as a patient in this institute 17 days ago. Since you like to play by the rules so much, why don’t you follow the official orders?”

The tall man before you let out a short laugh. “You couldn’t get him to budge even an inch for the last 3 weeks, what makes you think you can do it in 4 days Allev?”

“That is none of your concerns officer. But if you really do want an answer then answer me first.” You crossed your arms defiantly. “What makes you think the military can do what we trained professionals weren’t able to do?”

“We are the military Allev, we don’t try to convince and beg the patients like you trained professionals do. We have our own ways.”

“By that you mean by force. You will force the patients to undergo the tests to determine their nature but I hope you do know, if the patient isn’t willing to undergo the tests the results will not be accurate.”

“But they will be an approximate.”

“You don’t have to treat them like they’re not humans if you approximate results officer, as Alleviator I can you give those by simply observing the patient.”

“Oh really,” Namjoon raised his eyebrows, leaning against the wall. “Let’s see then, what do you know about Min Yoongi, approximately?”

“Well if you really must know then there’s 3 sides to him-”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “Obviously, he’s a 3 frag.”

Ignoring him you took a deep breath and continued. “- One, where he is emotional and childlike. Or rather I’d say he is scared and vulnerable or feeling less confident about himself. It’s a part of him that’s constantly afraid of the things of his past. Two, where he is angry and impulsive at his highest but I think in general its the part of him that’s determined and dedicated and passionate. It’s moments when he is so driven towards a purpose, he has least control over himself and his actions. And three, which is probably the most confusing one is when he’s silent. He’s mysterious, no one can tell what he’s thinking. At times like this he is always either reading or sleeping or focusing on things that don’t really seem significant to us but may be to him.”

“And how did you differentiate between all three?” Namjoon shifted, straightening out as he realised you weren’t an idiot when it came to your patients.

“He has triggers.” You spoke like it was obvious, much to Nmajoon’s confusion. “There is a particular time-” The time every week when his father used to whipped him before taking him to the church. “-that triggers the vulnerable side of him, there’s particular topics-” Any mentions about why he murdered his best friend. “-that seem to trigger his fury.”

“How do you know at what point which fragment is controlling him?” You watched as Namjoon signaled the officers behind him who immediately began to make notes but continued nevertheless.

“There are signs. In the way he moves, his body language, his posture. When he is mad, there is a throbbing of a pulse in his temple. He doesn’t like anyone around him, prefers to be left alone and displays more strength that he looks like he capable of. When he is vulnerable his body loses its stiffness and confidence, his shoulders are slouched, his eyes wander everywhere. When he is silent.....” You remember the way his eyes would be staring at you drowning you in his sight. “Well whenever there are neither of these signs it means his third fragment is in power.”

“And?” All 5 men looked at you expectantly. “Which one is most prominent?”

You frowned a little at their unnecessary eagerness “I’d say the third one but that doesn’t have to be true. Only the tests can tell that for sure. Approximate answers for that question don’t make any sense.”

“What about his speed?” Namjoon prodded. “How fast can he move? His strength?-”

You looked at him incredulously. “I don’t see how that is necessary to classify him as dangerous or not officer. Besides those are only things stage 1 of the tests can tell. A stage that I feel is absolutely irrelevant in determining his nature.”

Namjoon visibly relaxed, as he laughed a little. “You don’t know the way the world works yet Allev, and its best you try not to find out how.”

“You’ll come to see I am way more curious about things than I seem like officer. If I can read patients who are three different people at once, you’ll realize that if I want to I can find out how you, the military and the world works.” You had put it out there. A silent warning. And Namjoon was no idiot. He picked it up immediately as he smirked.

“They aren’t wrong when they say you are the best of your kind Alleviator Y/n. I guess you weren’t just spending all your time roaming around gardens and playing hide and seek with your patient then?”

You could hear the crowd of alleviators behind you break out into whispers. Hardening your gaze, you looked straight into Namjoon’s eyes.

“What I do with my patients is a part of how I treat them and how I treat my patients is none of your concern. All you need to be bothered about is whether I can treat them or not and as you said, I do happen to the one of the best of my kind and very capable in my job.”

“But what you’ve done is not enough Allev. It won’t save him from us. Not unless you can complete the testing on him.”

“I will do what I have to officer.”

Namjoon took a step back, as he understood. It was his time to leave. “And I will do what I have to Allev.”

“You wouldn’t need to, I assure you that.”

“We’ll see then.” He smiled, in a way so irritating you wanted to smack it right off his face. “But remember Allev, you and I are on the same side here. We both work to make the society a better place to live. If you fail to produce Yoongi’s results in 4 days, I will come to take over. We both want the best for him after all.”

“I’m not sure how much of that I believe, but I promise you won’t have the need to worry about his what’s best for him.” You held your hand out looking pointedly at the visitors badge in his hand. “ I can do that for my patient on my own.”

“Good luck then.” Namjoon placed the badge in you hand and turned to walk away. “With him, you’ll really really need it.”

And you watched as the 5 men marched out unsuccessfully. As all the alleviators behind you approached you, cheering you for standing so strong on your ground, you couldn’t help but fear about the next 4 days and what they meant for you and Yoongi.

Standing outside Yoongi’s door you tapped your foot anxiously. You did just get rid of a very big problem that was looming over you but behind this door was another one.

What did Yoongi mean with that kiss? Did he have feelings for you? And what about you? Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you kiss him back?? He was your patient for fucks sake. You couldn’t think about him in any other way. And you couldn’t allow Yoongi to think about you in any other way either. You had to make it clear to him.

But somehow, you didn’t function as efficiently as you otherwise would whenever you were in front of him. You always thought of saying one thing but ended up saying another. You just weren’t the same. And that’s probably what led to this. Maybe you weren’t really clear with your intentions to Yoongi. Maybe he interpreted you being friendly with him as you having feelings for him? Did you though? You didn’t know. At that time all you could think about was the 4 days you had remaining to get Yoongi to appear for the tests. You needed to sort this out.

The moment you stepped into his room, Yoongi sprang up from his chair where he was as usual working behind his computer, his face molded in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

You nodded, taking a step back as he approached you, keeping a safe distance between the both of you. “Yeah it’s all fine. Just...uh...had some formalities to take care of.”

“Oh okay....” He hesitated for a minute and you knew what he was going to talk about. “About earlier-”

“What?” You feigned ignorance. “Ah you mean about the kiss? Don’t-Don’t worry too much about it, I understand it was about the situation and you know an in the moment thing.”

“That’s what you think?” Wait, did you see hurt flash in his eyes? “You think it was an in the moment thing?”

You swallowed hard. “W-What else can it be?” You were struggling with your words. Why were you struggling? Why was this so hard to say? “ I mean we were talking about our pasts and its not something we are fond of and we were broken at that moment so I guess it was like a...a...momentary act of feeling better or...something...like that.”

Oh god, what were you saying??

“We’re stressed out adults Yoongi. It could have been anyone. I probably would have kissed a dog in that situation?” You watched the hurt in his eyes morph into confusion and continued stupidly. “No, no I'm just kidding!......Actually I would have.”

Yoongi looked at you incredulously. “.....Really?”

“Yeah well..” You fidgeted with your fingers nervously. “Well I'm a dog person! A-are you?”

Yoongi slowly shook his head “No....I'm more of a cat person.”

You rolled your eyes at his answer. “Cats are too arrogant for their own good.”

“I think things that beautiful deserve to have ego. Dogs are too loyal and loving and too perfect to be true. It's suspicious.”

" You think being perfect is suspicious?”

“No, loving a person so much is suspicious. You can't possibly very doing that without a motive.”

You frowned stupidly. “You are telling me a dog has a motive behind loving a person?”

“No, I mean in general it’s...uh...we're diverting by the way.”

“Uh yeah...” You shake your head trying to bring back focus. “Well the point is that whatever happened is no big deal....We are both of opposite genders, alone and spending a lot time together, its like a naturally induced um what do I call it...Infatuation?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise making you quickly justify your words “And its nothing serious, infatuation is just-”

“An attraction between male and a female and is a state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion, foolishly extravagant feeling and unappreciated often completely unwarranted emotion.” You blinked stupidly at him, lips parted, as Yoongi cleared his throat and continued. “Uh...I came across it in some general reading.”

“Uh yeah so basically its just a...an unwarranted feeling and I’m we sure can handle it. We are mature adults after all?” You looked at him questioningly, hoping he would just agree and not make things difficult for you.

Yoongi nodded slowly. “Yeah mature adults.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, clapping your hands together, walking back towards the door. “ Great! So then I'll see you at lunch...mature adult.”

Yoongi looked at you amused. “Yeah, you too mature adult.”

You hurriedly opened the door and shut it behind you as you stepped out. What in the world was that? He is Yoongi, your patient, why were you getting nervous in front of him? Calming yourself you walked away towards your office. You could figure this out later. Right now there were more important things to do.

“Nothing is working out!”

You slammed your files down on the table as you sank into your chair in your office.

Two out of four days were over with zero success. Again, nothing could make Yoongi budge and agree for the testing. Since you had promised him not to force him into anything he didn’t like you couldn’t even strongly ask him to just appear in the test because that would mean going against your word. So all you could do was try to convince him by finding a weak point but the more you tried to ask Yoongi about his past and his friend, the less he was willing to open up.

“I can’t do this Tae.” You sank further into your chair burying your face in your hands as Taehyung stood with your coffee by your door. “I never thought there would come a day where I will be unsuccessful with a patient.”

“Well,” He sat down on the chair before you. “We all have our bad days I guess.”

“I understand having a bad day Tae but a bad month?! I’ve had nearly 4 weeks of no luck with this man, do you understand? This man is....” You clenched your fists tight. “This man could end my career at this rate, its really frustrating me.”

“Relax Y/n.” Taehyung pushed the coffee towards you. “You have two more days to figure this out.”

“It’s just two more days Tae. What if I can’t do this?”

“Now, now, You are starting to sound like that officer.”

He meant like Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was there that day when that officer indirectly challenged you to get Yoongi to test within 4 days. In fact, all your colleagues were there. When your chief was following you making calls you thought he was trying to get people to stop you but apparently he had ordered all Alleviators in the building to stand behind you at the gates and support you in keeping your patient away from the military. While you were happy to have his support it also meant that all the staff, guards, alleviators, everyone knew what was about to go down the next 4 days. It meant there were so many eyes on you, so many judgements being passed around, so many comments being made behind your back. All that didn’t matter to you. What mattered was proving Kim Namjoon wrong. You were capable of taking care of your patient and you would prove it to him. But it was proving to be harder and harder to do so.

“He may be right Tae.”

“No he isn’t. I trust you enough to know he isn’t right. What you need is a break and to re-stratergize.” You looked up to see Taehyung looking at you encouragingly. He was right. You needed to change tactics. The one you were using was clearly failing you. You opened Yoongi’s case file, skimming through the details again....details.

Yes of course, that was what you were lacking on. There weren’t much details in his case file at all. Just where he was from, family name, where and how he was caught. That was about it. You were trying to find the story in between these lines to target his weak point by asking Yoongi about it. Asking him was going to give you no answers, you were going to have to look for them on your own.

“Call the rest of my assistants.” You ordered Taehyung who immediately reached out for his pager, reaching out to everyone. You had a new plan now.

“These are copies of Yoongi’s case sheet.”

You handed out photocopies of Yoongi’s file to all 18 of your assistants who assembled within 5 minutes of being instructed to.

“This is the information about him that we have. But I want information about him that nobody else does. I want to know everything. About his family, friends, what kind of food he eats, what kind of clothes he wore, every detail, relevant or not.” You tapped on the file on your table with authority. “It doesn’t matter how you get it, go to his village, talk to people, go to his school, get his school records, talk to teachers and staff and his classmates, get all the help you want and finish this in the next 12 hours. That is all we have. Within 12 hours, I want maximum possible information about Min Yoongi, am I understood?”

“Yes Allev.” The chorus of your assistants rang through the room and they began leaving.

“Tae,” You turned to him next to you. “I want you to find out more about the boy Yoongi killed.”

“He murdered someone?!” Taehyung looked at you incredulously. It was nothing compared to the shock you had on seeing the whole scene, but he looked petrified.

“Apparently.” You nod. “I want the post mortem report of that person. Ask the forensics department to talk to the hospital if they say its against their code or anything like that.”

Taehyung nodded. “I’ll talk to Jimin about it but....”

You raised your eyebrows. “But what?”

“Do you think this is the way to go about it? I mean if he wasn’t willing to open up about his past wouldn’t your prodding into it only make it worse?” Taehyung hesitated. “I don’t know I feel like it would make him angrier and lead him to refuse the testing even more.”

“I don’t know. I feel like the only way to get him to crack is it hit his weak point and all these days I’ve been thinking his best friend would do the trick but I don’t think its it. If I have to hit him where it counts then I need to know more. I need to find this weak point.”

“If that’s the case then maybe you are going after everything but the most obvious thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.” Taehyung looked at you like he was stating the obvious. “I don’t know why you can’t see it Y/n, but you may just be Yoongi’s weak point.”

You shook your head, denying vehemently. “That’s not true.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? Ask anyone Y/n-” You raised your hand to stop him.

“Don’t say this in front of anyone else Taehyung. There are limits between a patient and an Alleviator and you know them. Do not make it sound like the lines drawn were crossed.”

“I’m merely suggesting Y/n. Just because you know the limits, it doesn’t mean he knows or he agrees. I’m not pointing any sort of fingers at you, I’m talking about his feelings. His feelings which are out of our control, his feelings which may be useful in this situation.”

“How is it going to be useful in any way-”

You turned to your phone, startled by the sudden ping and reached out for it.

Two days down. Two days to go. I’m waiting Allev.

You could feel acid rise behind your throat reading Kim Namjoon’s message. His challenge, Taehyungs words, Yoongi’s case file, a hundred different thoughts all came to you at once.

“Tae.” You stopped the man as he began to leave the room. “Ask Jimin to look up about Kim Namjoon as well.”

“Kim Namjoon?”

“If we are messing with him, then I need to know how big of a deal it can be.” You looked at the message determinedly as Taehyung nodded, shutting the door behind him.

That night you walked through the corridors of the institute sleeplessly.

It had been 12 hours since you had given instructions and all the possible information that could have been collected was already sent to you. Not just your team but alleviators of the whole institute worked so hard on this for you. Most of them hadn’t even returned to the university because they had traveled so far off to do their research. You hated to think about it but it felt like all of their work was a waste.

When you went through all the data you had about Yoongi, not one thing seemed useful. Nobody even knew much about Yoongi. His neighbors said they hadn’t seen him in years, his teachers said that after a while he stopped coming to school and was home schooled. The father in the church he went to every weekend said he never saw Yoongi speak or even look up. He always just stared at his own hands. Taehyung had somehow managed to track where Yoongi’s family had relocated after their house burned down but apparently his father refused to speak to anyone and even threatened to shoot Taehyung with a gun. Nothing was lining up the way you wanted it to. There was a dead end everywhere everyone went to collect information. This wasn’t working out either.

“You don’t look like you achieved a lot in the last 3 days Allev.”

You turned around to see Kim Namjoon standing there and narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Given that there’s less than 24 hours before you hand Yoongi to us I’m staying over tonight so I can work on the formalities and take him with me by 6 tomorrow evening.”

“He won’t go anywhere officer.”

“So much pride you take in yourself Allev. You still believe you can keep him here after all this time.”

“I do. I do believe in my abilities. What I don’t understand though is why you are so adamant on taking him away?”

“I’m as adamant about my job as you are Allev. It’s my job to keep the people in this society safe.”

“Don’t you have better things to do than target us? What about the borders and your base?”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at you. “How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know about what’s happening at the base?”

You looked him confused. “What do you mean? Isn’t it your job to safeguard your base?”

“Oh.” Namjon visibly relaxed. “I thought you knew about the attempts to infiltrate the base. That asshole Jung and his team. I will make sure they are behind bars very very soon.” He muttered under his breath talking to himself before turning to you. “You need not be worried about my job Allev, you should be worried about yours. I hope you know more is at stake than just losing your patient here.”

You swallowed hard as Namjoon took joy in continuing. “Your reputation, your career, your job, everything is at stake here. And not to mention how your drama has already got you blacklisted by the military, any failure on your part will make it easier for us to kick you out of here. Pretty women like you don’t deserve to live the horrible, demeaned life of an Alleviator anyways...”

He took a step forward towards you but before you could even say a word a voice came from behind you.

“Don’t you dare step closer to her.”

You turned around to see Yoongi walk up to you, holding you by the wrist pulling you back to stand behind him, placing himself between you and the officer.

“And who are you?”

“Do you not listen without introductions?” You watched at Namjoon’s gaze hardened and grabbed Yoongi’s wrist.

“Yoongi, stop.” You whispered harshly, afraid of what Namjoon might do to him.

“Its amazing how you always have people to step up for you Y/n. The Alleviators were there for you the other day, and now even though most of them are out on your specially assigned tasks you have patients to stand up for you.” Namjoon sneered. “I didn’t think you were the kind to hide behind others.”

“And I’m not.” You stepped up before Yoongi, looking right up to Namjoon. “I’m not the kind that is scared to stand for what I believe. Mind you, I will do anything to do so. And right now you don’t want to see what I’m capable of. So I suggest you get back to where you came from. Or I’ll have the guards drag you back to the visitors lodging.”

Namjoon laughed taking a step back. “I’d like to see this arrogance on your face tomorrow Allev. Good luck again.”

And with that he left, making you heave a sigh of relief before you turned to Yoongi. “What are you doing here?!”

“I was going back from the library....what was he saying about you losing your job and all?”

“That’s nothing.” You shook your head. “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

“It didn’t sound like something that should be taken lightly. He doesn’t seem like a man you shouldn’t take seriously....”

“Yoongi it’s really nothing-”

“Y/n.”

You turned around to see Jimin standing there with a file in his hands. Oh yes that post mortem report.

“Yoongi,” You turned back to him. “Go back to your room.”

“You didn’t answer me though, is everything okay?”

“Everything is okay, just...just go. Please.”

Yoongi looked at you not thoroughly convinced but he nodded and turned to walk away nevertheless. You rushed towards Jimin.

“What did you find?”

“Not much.” Jimin handed you the file. “The body was almost entirely burnt, there was barely anything left to do a post mortem on. The forensics report though mention that there was possibly a bullet wound but no weapon was discovered on site. Considering Yoongi was caught running away after the murder I’m guessing he disposed the weapon somewhere else. I don’t know if it was located or not, this file itself was a pain in the ass to recover.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently its highly classified. The forensics department couldn’t do anything about it either.”

“How did you get it then?” You looked up at him confused.

“I hacked into their system.”

“Jimin what?!” You slammed the file shut looking at him incredulously. “You hacked government classified systems? Are you insane? Do you have any idea what could happen to you if you were caught? What about your and all of our careers-”

“It’s always about career for you isn’t it?” Jimin looked at you pitifully. “Two years back you chose your career over me. Today as well you aren’t worried that anything could happen to me, you’re more bothered about our careers.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Don’t justify yourself Y/n. You weren’t able to for two years now and at this point I don’t even expect an explanation from you. Whatever you say it’s going to be the same selfish excuse that you make for your own convenience and I will once again remember how you used me like you did with everyone else in your life.”

“You can’t say things like that Jimin. I thought we were over this.”

“Yeah you and I are over. But the pain you caused me for the last 2 years isn’t over. You just can’t keep anyone you love next to you can you Y/n? No wonder your family left you-”

Before the tears forming in your eyes by his hurtful words could even escape your eyes and roll down your cheek, in a flash of a second Jimin was down on the ground, in a pool of blood.

“Yoongi!” You pulled back the man who had punched Jimin within a blink of an eye, holding him back. “Yoongi stop!” You pushed him back and looked at Jimin who lied there motionlessly, covering your mouth with your hands, still unable to come out of the shock.

The military was already looking for more excuses to classify Yoongi as dangerous and take him away. Namjoon moreover was already on the institute grounds. If the news about this incident got to him they would immediately take him away.

“Oh god. What have you done Yoongi?”

You looked at your watch. 6 PM.

Namjoon would arrive anytime now to take Yoongi away and just as you had finished that thought, there he was, marching towards you, papers in his hand.

“I’d appreciate if you open the door on your own Allev. I’ll consider that as a sign that you accept your defeat.”

Letting out a deep breath you opened the door of room 613, letting Namjoon step in. But the officer stepped into emptiness.

“Where is Yoongi?” He turned towards you, confused.

You smiled at the man, celebrating your victory. “I should tell you officer, Yoongi just entered stage 1 of testing.”

Namjoon looked at you for a whole silent minute before breaking out into a smile and holding out his hand.

“I guess your plan worked Allev.”

You shook his hand thankfully. “Couldn’t have been done without you Officer.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I feel like Jimin played the bigger role in this drama. You should thank him. Is he still in the hospital?”

You nodded.

“Yoongi didn’t bash him up too bad did he?”

“Just a broken nose.”

“He’ll get better.” Namjoon mused. “Congratulations though Allev, I’m glad you and I managed to do our jobs and keep the society safe. I told you we were on the same side here.”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “With Yoongi’s test results hopefully we are able to determine his true nature and act upon it.”

“I’m sure we will do what’s best. Till later then Allev.” Namjoon took a step back, wearing his beret. “Keep me updated about him.”

“Will do officer.”

With that Namjoon walked away, leaving you alone with you Taehyung’s voice ringing in your head. You may just be his weakness Y/n.

You didn’t want to believe it then but you had seen it now.

You were Min Yoongi’s weakness and you just played him with it. You had no idea how you felt about that.

9 notes · View notes

elusetta · 6 years ago

Note

"It's a human thing, wanting what you can't have..." Strongson!

Tysm for the prompt Parker!!! This got out of hand. Pirate AU! I didn’t really have any reasoning behind this, so I’m sorry if it’s a bit incoherent. :) Hope it lives up to your expectations!

The cutlass on Hudson’s hip was as comforting as an old friend, and the sea wind at her cheek an old comfort that had been there, present, always listening, since her childhood. Yet still, there was a delicate sort of darkness that lingered in the depths of her mind, reminding her of dark rooms and low ceilings and cold steel against her skin. Reminding her that this was still new.

Although it wasn’t. This was new in the sense that it was known to her once again, after weeks of being imprisoned by that fucking brother. She had forgotten it- well, not quite; she could never truly forget the only thing she admitted to loving. This ship was her home. The ocean past it was her world. And in the grand scheme of things, that was really all that mattered.

A week had passed since her escape. She could never have done it without help. She hadn’t intended on it, until…

Until…

The salted breeze carried a familiar presence with it. Hudson turned and met the eyes of Grace.

“How are you holding up?” Grace asked softly, her eyes bearing a dark concern along with the sort of wariness one would expect from a hunter approaching a wolf.

Hudson smiled tightly.

That was her contradiction, right there. The captain of the Divine Lamb, Grace Armstrong, soldier turned pirate waging war against the Eden fleet. Hudson always claimed that her home was in the sea, and the sea alone, but Grace was her rebuttal. How could she claim that this ship was her home, that the life of the voyaging adventuress was all that mattered to her, when the woman who had made it so was standing next to her?

Grace had seen her, the city guard who had let heroics get a little bit too deep into her head. Grace had helped her escape Joseph when he had captured her the first time. Grace had given her the means and motivation to keep fighting. Grace had given her a home.

“I’m okay,” Hudson replied. “I will be, I mean. John didn’t do much to me.”

“Scare tactics,” Grace muttered. “That man’s a fucking coward.”

Hudson laughed and ran her finger along the edge of her blade, trying to convince herself that she had nothing to be scared of. “He’s a coward, but he’s ruthless.”

Grace must have seen the past in Hudson’s eyes again, because she changed her tone and subject, the care in her voice the same as it had been when she had first recovered Hudson out of the Affirmation. “If there’s anything you need, you know I’m- I’m here.”

Hudson didn’t need anything. She wanted something, sure; she wanted Grace to come to her quarters every night, she wanted Grace to kiss her senseless right then and there, she wanted Grace to tell her everything would be the same as it had always been. But there was nothing that she needed.

“I’m okay,” she said coolly, and Grace left it alone.

The night was cold, and somehow, the interior of the room that Hudson had been lucky enough to acquire was even colder. They’d made port for the night in one of the only safe cities left: Fall’s End. Mary May, the innkeeper and an old friend, was always willing to give her a place to stay; after all, Hudson had been the one who’d saved her and the inn from Eden all that time ago. Mary May hadn’t exactly approved of the shift in career when Hudson had first joined Grace at the helm of the Divine Lamb, but she had understood. She always understood. That was one of the reasons that Hudson liked her so much.

So when Hudson had come into the inn, more distant than usual, with a cold look on her face, Mary May hadn’t really asked any questions. She’d just ushered her upstairs and told her what they’d be having for dinner that night.

Frankly, the Divine Lamb was beginning to feel like an emotional deathtrap. Hudson spent every day either tortured by the memories she pretended didn’t bother her at all, or being menaced by the thoughts of a future that would never come. A future that simply wasn’t in the cards, no matter which way she spun it. A future with Grace.

Hudson breathed out, spreading her fingers in the air above her face and watching the light flicker around them. Wasn’t quite nightfall yet, but it would be soon. And in a couple of days, the ship would depart once again, Grace standing strong at the prow.

Hudson wouldn’t be on it.

A drop of unhappiness flickered in Hudson’s chest. But she’d never been one to second-guess herself. This was what she needed. She’d rejoin the guard force of the cities, go back to her everyday life of patrolling. Make up some crazy story to tell the people who had once been her friends. She’d tell them she’d gotten kidnapped, put into a boat full of pirates. Pirates like the Black Huntress, scarred and burned and brusque as the winter itself. Pirates like the woman who went only by the name of Rook, explosive and passionate and everything Hudson could ever ask for in a friend. She’d tell them that she had found herself in a life of adventures that had passed the threshold of her wildest dreams. She’d tell them she’d found life- a life she wanted.

She’d tell them that she’d loved and left a pirate queen.

Wouldn’t they get a kick out of that?

Hudson startled back into reality at the sound of Mary May’s knock on her door. “Dinner’s ready,” the innkeeper said, shutting the door as quickly as she’d opened it.

A cool breeze came through the window, and Hudson found that her cheeks were wet with tears. She wiped them off, sat up, and breathed in a shaky resolve that she knew would dissipate with the right words.

She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t pain, but it was strain, and her heart had never been ready to fight this hard.

The Divine Lamb departed from the port to fanfare from the resistance. Brave people, the citizens of Fall’s End. Brave enough to resist Eden when the rest of the kingdom was practically under its thumb already. Not to mention strong. It was no ordinary townsfolk that would fight tooth and nail to preserve a home that so many others had abandoned.

Hudson weighed her cutlass in her hand and wished that she could stave off the feeling in her stomach. A wild, violent urge to run clear across the town square and throw herself into Grace’s arms, back into the life that she knew she had to let go.

What were her options? What was she meant to do, when every direction she turned to threw her headfirst into another dilemma? She couldn’t go back to the ship; it had Grace, it had every reminder of the tortures she’d endured on the Affirmation. She couldn’t stay here; she’d lose everything she loved.

But given the choice that wasn’t a choice, given the choice that would rip her heart out one way or another, Hudson had always been better at loss. Lose everything, or risk everything and then lose everything. Why not take the more straightforward path to desolation?

She hadn’t come out of the room above the inn for the whole night, and had remained there for the morning. Now, watching the ship, her ship, sail into the golden waters of the sun, Hudson knew that if she left the room, she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself from pursuing it.

And then, from the wall of the inn, came a noise.

Something solid. Something heavy. Something that turned into a muttered swear word in a familiar voice.

Hudson stared at the window and tried to stop herself from investigating.

A shape appeared on the other side of the glass. Two eyes, familiar and beckoning as the eastern horizon; dark skin that was weathered by days of sun and salt; the cast of a smile on the lips.

Grace pulled herself through the window. “You’re running a little bit late.”

Hudson stared, and stared, and finally sat down in one heavy motion on the bed. A moment passed, and then another, and eventually, all she could manage to say was “Why?”

Grace sat next to her without a second thought. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Hudson glared at her hands, and when Grace showed no signs of budging, let out a resigned breath. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“The ship?” Grace asked, shaking her head. “I knew John hurt you more than you said. I guess I just hoped-”

“Not the ship, Grace,” Hudson said in a bitter laugh. “More like who was on it.”

“You mean Jess? I know she’s rough around the edges, and she hadn’t been too nice to you, but-”

Hudson shook her head. Maybe, if she hadn’t spent the past week boiling alive in her own emotions, this situation would’ve been funny. But, as the circumstances stood, it was nothing but a kick in the teeth. “You, Grace.”

Grace sat in a stunned silence, and Hudson felt herself compelled to continue. “I guess… I guess it’s a human thing, wanting what you can’t have,” she said reluctantly. “I mean, I always knew it was there, but now… I mean, after seeing you ride in to save me from that goddamned ship like some kind of hero… I just… I guess it was finally done stewing.”

Grace found her voice. “What was?”

Willing her voice not to shake, Hudson brought it into the light. The reason, the impetus, the prison that had kept her. “My… feelings. For you. Feelings… for you.” She coughed, not daring to look at the woman beside her. “I’d known for a while, but… since we’re not on the ship anymore, and since I’m probably not coming back, I guess I can just say it.” Her eyes darted around, seeking something to catch on. “I… I think I love you, Grace. At least, that’s what I… that’s what I’d guess this is, considering what it did to me.”

After a pause that seemed to last forever, Grace responded. “And that made you leave?”

“Well, yeah,” Hudson said, shifting on the bed. “I mean, I can’t imagine it would be good for morale, having the first mate in love with the captain.”

Grace’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on the blankets. “And what about the captain being in love with the first mate?”

That, Hudson realized with a shock at the base of her spine, she hadn’t considered.

“…Maybe that would be a different story,” she finally answered.

Their hands found each other. Hudson’s lips curved into a smile for the first time in such a long time.

“Wait- the ship!” She untangled her fingers from Grace’s and darted to the window. The Divine Lamb was already disappearing into the sun. “Fuck, she’s gone. We’ll be here for hours. Maybe even days.”

Grace grinned at her. “I can think of a couple ways to kill the time.”

#far cry 5 #grace armstrong #joey hudson #far cry 5 fanfiction #writing #my writing

9 notes · View notes

whisker-biscuit · 7 years ago

Text

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 6

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Chapter 6: Therapy 101

10:50 am

Flug tapped energetic fingers against the doorknob of his office, debating whether arriving early would be seen as a sign of preparedness, eagerness or desperation. He had been ready to go for over half an hour and was trying very hard not to rush up. He looked at his digital clock on the desk and counted the individual seconds as they passed. The moment the minute changed to 10:51 he could stand it no more and left his sanctuary in a burst of anticipation.

As he started down the hall, a familiar, unwanted coworker came around the corner.

“Oh, Dr. Slys!” Bautista gave a cheerful smile, “I was just on my way to collect you for the session.”

“Um,” the doctor stopped as he was approached. “I thought you got my email last night.”

“Sure did, about my intern? I think it’s a great idea, giving Lauren the kid to deal with. Thanks for the help.” The larger man flicked a thumb briefly against his nose and sniffed.

“I said it’d be a good idea to ask for her input not, not just dump Mart – your intern on her. That’s still your responsibility.” Flug rocked back on his heels to look up, squinting irritably. “And please refer to her as Dr. Rorschach. She’s our superior.”

“Eh, I’ll call people whatever I want. Don’t worry your paper head about it.” There was a dismissive hand wave in his direction. “Anyway, you ready to go? I’m excited to get this one to crack.”

“I thought you said you read my email.”

“Yeah, I skimmed it, why?”

“Well I,” the psychiatrist wrung his hands up his clipboard, “I did some thinking yesterday and I mentioned this in the email, but I…” God, he hated confrontations in person. “I think it might be better if we, if I was the only one working with Black Hat, at least today.”

His colleague’s smile was waxen. “What do you mean, Doctor?”

“The patient seems a lot more comfortable with me than anyone else already, and you – you let some information slip that I didn’t want him to learn.”

“What, your name? Come now, Flug, that’s not really that important –”

“It is, it is to me, alright?” Flug couldn’t quite keep the biting tone out of his voice. “Look, I’m grateful for your help yesterday, I really am, but I really don’t think this case will need more than one psychiatrist. I’m sorry for interrupting your schedule so much already.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Bautista peered at him, smile gone now. “But I was under the impression that Patient 513 is incredibly dangerous and needs extra caution. I mean, you wouldn’t shut up about it yesterday. What changed, Flug?”

I don’t trust you to do your job, was the thought that made the doctor’s jaw clench, unseen. But he answered instead with, “I’m worried about the casualty count with so many people. I’m still planning to keep a security guard in the room with me, but if the patient prefers only one psychiatrist – which seems to be the case – I won’t refuse his request unless it becomes unreasonable or dangerous. I hope you understand.”

They stood facing each other, stock still, one face masked and serious and the other slowly turning a shade of violent red.

“I’m taking this up with Lauren,” Bautista threatened, eyes dark. “You think I’m incompetent, Flug? Think I’ll drag your perfect little record down? See how smug you are with a filed complaint against you.”

Flug’s fingers twitched at his side. “I’d be willing to discuss it with you and Dr. Rorschach, when time permits. I’m sure we can come to a compromise for everyone. But I’ve already requested the changes to the director. I’m sorry, but I have an appointment with a patient and I’m going to be late.”

He had to skirt along the wall to avoid touching his angry colleague, who refused to budge to make space for him. The psychiatrist felt a bitter, biting gaze on him until he turned the corner, and his teeth grinded together at the absurd politics of it all.

This was why he worked better with the inmates. Fewer games.

...

I was not able to sleep more than two hours at a time after my third encounter with my would-be therapist. Of course, that is not to say I had slept particularly well the evening before, either – plans of escape and wariness of a new environment puts a damper on one’s ability to relax, after all. But last night I was up for a very different reason.

Ninety minutes with this human who has so strangely caught my interest.

I must say I could not predict what that would entail. I have been the subject of attempted “psychological analysis” before, but it had been more of a plan by the authorities to draw a confession from me. When I realized this, I had only done the logical thing before making my escape.

Dr. Hyde passed away recently from medical complications, if I’m not mistaken.

But this…I could not detect an ulterior motive from Dr. Flug Slys. It might have been good acting on his part – highly unlikely – or a misjudgment on mine – nearly impossible. It is not something I encounter often among humans, regardless of their social status. Today would be an excellent chance for me to probe at him as he struggled to do the same. I was going to learn about this man, and why he was so fascinating, and how I might use that to my advantage.

It would be a lovely way to pass the time until my inevitable liberation from this depressing place.

When my doctor unlocked my cell door and fumbled pitifully inside with another guard, I was waiting impatiently in the center of the room.

“You’re late,” I hissed in mild irritation. I did not have access to a clock here, not yet, but I felt this truth in my being. The resulting apologetic flinch confirmed my instinct.

“Ah, yeah sorry, I was d-dealing with a…an internal issue. It t-took longer than I thought it would.” Dr. Flug rubbed his arm in sheepish cowering. He appeared distracted and I could not have that.

“Then you would do well to remember where your priorities lie, Flug. Tardiness is unacceptable.”

“Of c-course, of course,” he gave me a long look, and I smirked in return. “So I guess we should g-get started then, um. Are you, would you prefer t-to stand there or would you rather sit down? It’s a long session.”

“I’m aware of how long it is, Flug. Don’t patronize me.” I watched the armed guard carefully. “I don’t feel comfortable setting myself up so vulnerably while that man is present. I will sit when he leaves.”

“Oh sorry, we c-can’t do that. I – we can’t have a repeat of t-two days ago. It’s just a precaution until we can c-confirm our safety, you understand.” My doctor raised and lowered his clipboard several times. “But m-maybe I can have him s-stand by the door while w-we talk, if you’re willing to c-cooperate.”

“I suppose I can’t ask for much more than that,” I conceded begrudgingly. They really were getting smarter. What a shame. “Very well, I will sit over here, on my…mattress, if you will at least step away from your bodyguard for a more private conversation.”

“Sounds, uh, sounds fair.” But Flug waited until I had taken the initiative and placed myself on the raised padding before coming any closer. There was still a light limp to his step that sent a thrill of satisfaction through my wrapped hands.

I crossed my legs and smiled pleasantly. “So Dr. Flug, where is your colleague? I had assumed he would be here. Or is he prone to lateness as well?”

Something tense settled in my doctor’s shoulders. “Dr. Bautista won’t be joining us today, or h-hopefully any day. You, uh, if I can make the observation,” he cocked his head at me, “you didn’t seem to like him very much.”

“You may make that observation, and I will confirm it. Your coworker is a buffoon.” I watched as he tensed further. There was an expression in the reflection of his goggles that I couldn’t yet pinpoint.

“Oh no, he’s an intelligent man, please don’t say that,” Flug held his clipboard to where his mouth might be under that bag. “He just, we just thought it would be easier to have one psychiatrist in this session instead of two.”

“Please. That man’s egotism is plastered over every exaggerated action he makes. I’ve seen it before, and have no interest in tolerating it.”

As I watched, my doctor’s left hand reached up to run along the bottom rim of his bag, and he risked a glance at the present security, who was not interested nor interesting. When he looked back to me, I saw his hesitance become conviction.

“Is there…anything else that concerns you? Is that the only reason you don’t want him to sit in on our sessions?” Calculation. Determination. Motive. He wanted my answers for something, and I couldn’t hazard a guess at what that was.

Intrigued, I responded. “There are many reasons I have no interest in him, Dr. Flug. He has no sense of subtlety, for one, and cannot grasp at the concepts of perception and observation. Not a promising aspect of someone trained to rehabilitate criminals.”

My doctor was furiously writing my reply, possibly word for word by the way his pencil moved. He finished shortly and glanced upwards. “Is that, is that it?”

“No sincerity, either. I wouldn’t trust him with my scheduled mealtimes, much less my personal details.” As he continued scribing every accusation, I studied the way his shoulders remained tense, excited almost. The expression I had seen past his bag was increasing tenfold, and my eyebrows lifted as I recognized it.

It was mirth. He was trying to keep from laughing, trying to keep himself from revealing to me or our guard that he was enjoying this. I took the challenge.

“Would you like to know what else?” I asked innocently. Flug nodded, fast then slow, careful not to appear too eager. I uncrossed my legs. “He has no regard for you, and I assume that extends to his other coworkers as well.” I watched in glee as his hold on his pencil tightened in subconscious agreement. “He does not realize what the risks are in this job, nor what it means for you when he so offhandedly gave me the way to learn your name.”

There was a stop in the sound of granite on paper, and my psychiatrist looked up at me warily. He hadn’t forgotten our exchange yesterday, it seemed. I had not either, and although I still very much wanted to know the origin of his name, I bypassed the question in the air to ask a different one.

“May I ask why you want to know so much about your colleague, Doctor?”

“Oh, um,” Flug danced from one sneakered foot to the other. “We j-just like to document c-complaints from patients a-about…everything. For reference and uh, review.”

So he planned to use my testimony as leverage against his coworker. Without my permission. Unbelievable. In any other situation, I would have been provoked at best and murderous at worst. Even now, I could feel indignation bubbling up in a familiar spill.

“So my words will be shared with others without my consent?” I didn’t stand but drew my shoulders to full form. Irritation oozed along my tongue. “Are you telling me, Flug, that patient confidentiality means so little here?”

The little imp jerked back as if I’d scorched him. “No, n-no I didn’t – that’s not w-what I meant a-at all! I –”

“Perhaps not, but it’s what will happen, you naïve idiot.” I trembled to keep myself on the mattress. Any action that could be perceived as threatening would cut our time short, and I did not yet want that. Still, staying my hand was difficult.

“If y-you d-don’t want your p-preferences r-reviewed, I c-can keep it p-private!” Flug shook like the pathetic waif he was. His knees knocked together, making a sound that set my teeth on edge. I wanted to break them.

“You better see that it does, Flug, or else I will not be so hospitable,” My hands curled, sharp and stuck under their abhorrent restraints. “I will let you know when I want or don’t want something, and I will be very clear about it. Don’t you ever use my words without my permission.”

“I, I won’t,” the human took a moment to try to calm his tremors. “I p-promise I won’t.”

“Good. I’ll know if you’re lying.” I took my own moment, to let the anger drain from a cascade to its more regular hum. It was hard when my doctor couldn’t stop knocking his goddamn knees. “Would you kindly stop shaking, Flug!”

He sat down where he was, in the middle of the room, and the vexing sounds ceased. As my breath slowed and my irritation diminished, I noticed that Flug was forced to tilt his chin up to meet my gaze. I looked down at him and felt…hmm.

“What?” My doctor blinked quizzically and I schooled my expression with practiced ease.

“Nothing, Doctor. Simply grateful you can follow orders so promptly.” How curious. My sense of dominance was fairly common when I had power over a human in any form. Here, I could not deny that I had little hold of Flug beyond basic fear, but his position now brought forth that feeling of control, shallow but present at the base of my hat. I knew very well the influence of posture and placement in displays of dominance, but this felt distinctly different than usual.

Fascinating.

Of course, Flug took that moment to stand back up, destroying the bizarre scene and the thoughts it evoked. I waited impassively as he collected himself and filed away this discovery to consider later, when I was left alone again.

“Alright so,” my psychiatrist gave me a guarded, narrowed stare. I wondered what he might have picked up on. “I think it m-might be best if we move onto a – a different topic.”

I didn’t grace that with a response, and it made him nervous.

“Okay, um, okay. Let’s t-talk about,” Flug tapped at his left heel with his right toe. “Actually, how about you p-pick?”

This was new. I had never been asked to decide the source of discussion in meetings with ‘the right side of the law’. But it was irrelevant. I was finished with this session as soon as I learned my words would be used. It was time to end it.

“Mm,” I considered him. “Is there anything off-limits?”

“No, I, you can talk about a-anything you’d like.” He tapped at his right heel with his left toe. It was symmetrical to his previous action. “It can be trivial, or serious, or w-whatever.”

“Very well,” I shifted in my seat and leaned forward, showing teeth. “Let’s discuss you, Dr. Flug.”

“M-Me?!” My doctor squeaked, tugging at his bag. It was quite amusing. “I don’t think we should –”

“I believe you said I would choose the topic, and I have. If I am to share anything, I must know the little psychiatrist who hasn’t fled yet and seems to have a death wish.” Every word made Flug closer to the image of frightened prey. I took in a breath of the fear.

“Well, ah…” He was tense as a violin bowstring, and I waited for the inevitable, fourth time he would flee from me. “I mean, th-that is, I d-don’t think…” Any second now. It was in his body. He brought his shoulders to the bottom of his headwear. “I think, I…you know w-what? Fine.”

…What?

I blinked, dumbfounded, as he continued. “You’re r-right, I can’t e-expect this to go anywhere without, without t-trust. If we’re – if we s-start here, I guess it’s as g-good a place as any. Just…nothing a-about my name. Or the bag. O-Okay?”

I could not help it, my jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

This was not expected in the slightest. Every encounter with this creature, every mention of his name or personal life, sent him skittering like a spider caught in an open room by a human holding a newspaper. I couldn’t fathom why it was any different now.

“You h-heard me. Um. Ask, ask away, I won’t mind.” Flug’s hands flitted along his bag and clipboard.

It took longer to compose myself than I wanted him to see. My teeth cracked together into perfect symmetry and I stayed very still, looking my doctor up and down for signs of deceit. Once again, I failed to find any.

“Very well, Dr. Flug,” I hissed, frustrated. “Why do you bother toiling in a place like this? Surely someone of your…stature would be better suited in a place not so dangerous to your personal health. Maybe a lab, instead?”

“Nah, research has too many d-deadlines,” he answered fairly quickly, obviously acquainted with the inquiry. “And uh, for your first question, it’s j-just something that’s always felt right. You know? Something th-that kinda just clicks?”

I did know. It was the experience of villainy, in any and every form, that gave me that sense. I didn’t share that with him.

“You cannot expect me to believe it is only out of the goodness of your heart that you’re here, Flug.” I would have propped my elbows on my legs if not for this accursed jacket. Instead I settled with a slight lean to my right, towards my doctor.

“Ah, the m-money isn’t a small f-factor either, I guess,” Flug was relaxing, millimeter by precious millimeter. “But I’m n-not really here for m-much else. Just,” he rubbed at the back of his head, “wanna give others a ch-chance, you know? Who, might not h-have had it until now.”

“Do you think I deserve a chance, Doctor?” It was not as sarcastic as he would interpret it. I actually wanted to know his answer. “Am I someone who did not have that before?”

“Well I don’t know, I d-don’t know your history.” He looked at me, this lovely little enigma of paper and anxiety. “But I am absolutely w-willing to offer what I can. If you’ll have me.”

The choice of words made me chuckle. “If I’ll have you, Doctor? What are you implying? What goes on in these padded rooms, exactly?”

Flug was visibly red through his bag, which I wasn’t aware was possible and took great greedy pleasure out of. “I mean! I mean I didn’t mean! Not – that’s disgusting!”

He hit his clipboard against his face when the embarrassment became too much, babbling apologies and repulsion at the thought of anything at all. Quite the prude he was. My eyes drifted over to the security guard, who leaned against the door in clear apathy. His gaze was on some point far to the left. My doctor was still hiding his shame. Neither party was paying real attention to me.

I risked a shift to the end of the mattress where I sat. The guard did not stir, and Flug was busying himself with goggles practically buried in his notes. I tilted my head, calculating.

“What does ‘offering what you can’ entail exactly, Doctor? Is it merely counsel or does it extend to…physical therapy?” My grin was large.

The little wreck pressed the clipboard hard against what I assumed was his forehead, eyes covered completely. With a subtle glance at the oblivious guard, I stood very, very slowly. It went unnoticed even as I rose to my full height and didn’t move further.

“Really Flug, I’m flattered. For all my charm, I can’t say I get offers like this often.” One slide of a step, silent as death. “But I have a reputation to uphold, even in a promiscuous place as this seems to be.” Another slide. Four more to go, give or take. “What would the other villains say if they heard – can you imagine? Me, the greatest threat to mankind that ever lived, giving in to such basic, immoral, fleshy temptations.”

With every step closer I pitched my voice lower, creating the illusion of maintained distance. I probably did not need the caution. The idiot security was practically turned around, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Flug’s eyes were closed, mumbling German things like “Bitte stoppen” and “Warum iche?”

I could smell his panic now, clear and strong and constant. Humans had the tastiest reactions. And without the doctor’s realizing it, I was standing over him, almost intoxicated by the rush of it all. I might have been stripped of my powers but stealth would never be an issue, it seems.

How I wished my arms were free in that moment. If I had all my limbs, all of them at my disposal, I could have done anything I desired. But one doesn’t need arms to contain, to restrain. I leaned close, planning to sink a hungry maw into that open vulnerable jugular, when I was forcibly stopped.

It was not because I was spotted that I was compelled to cease my ambush. Quite the contrary – the two were still flustering pathetically over my words. But it was Flug that made me stop, because I sensed something in that instant that forced me to reevaluate my summary of the doctor.

You see, there is an ambience of sorts that surrounds humans. Not so much an aura, as many so-called psychics would claim, but more a collective of their thoughts and actions and mood. It mostly manifests as a sort of darkness, although not one that anyone can see. It is a feeling, like the warning in your gut that tells you in no implicit terms to stay away, to beware. Most humans are not tuned into this frequency, for they scoff at the idea of a sixth sense, of the supernatural, of something they cannot measure or explain away. The few I have met that are in tune usually don’t have the instincts or training to pick up on the more subtle nuances of The Dusk, those people who hide their true selves so well. I myself am a connoisseur of it, like a wine taster at a banquet. Darkness recognizes darkness, so they say.

Being in a place like this, with so many humans and criminals shrouded lovingly in their dark ambiance, can cause a sort of thickness in the air not very different from a fog. Captivating as it is for a being like me, it often results in a jumble of confusion, as it is difficult to distinguish one Dusk from another.

Perhaps that is why I had not noticed the beautiful, sickening sense misting my doctor until this moment.

It was such a revelation that I could not bring myself to attack Flug as I would have otherwise. Instead, I absorbed the heady gloom like a chain smoker does the first pack of the day. It was a delectable taste as well – the quiet, unassuming kind that churns your stomach for reasons you cannot place, an uneasiness that is questioned and brushed off as paranoia even as it lingers. The sneaky ones are the most enjoyable at times.

And my dear doctor was very sneaky indeed.

Having wasted precious seconds, I reluctantly brought myself back to the physical plane and came so close to Flug that my cheek was nearly touching his bag. I whispered in his ear in the same way two days ago when I had assaulted him. But this was not a threat of the same nature, no. This was a sweet, sweet promise prompted by the wonderful feast he had unknowingly offered to me.

“Oh Flug, you should have told me. Your darkness is delicious.”

“Eeee!!” My doctor squeaked high enough to break glass and jumped at least a meter backwards, like one’s startled pet cat. He fell onto his rear and I laughed, loud and harsh and uninhibited, even as the guard finally did his job and corralled the terror-stricken human out the door in one fell swoop.

They left shortly after, but it did not matter. Our session was nearly over anyway, from what I could guess, and what had originally been a plan to settle curiosity from my overseer and formulate an escape became a wonderful, audacious need to taste more, to consume more of that sly little flavor from a little human Slys.

My dark little doctor.

Y’all thought Flug was the thirsty one but Black Hat has just found an oasis in a desert lol

#villainous #villainous au #asylum au #dr flug #black hat #paperhat

83 notes · View notes