#( they arrived a few months ago and took leadership from everyone else who was there since I was like 9 ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shutupaboutandraste · 4 years ago

Note

“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

#dadwc #fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #da drunk writing circle #da

51 notes · View notes

klbwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 16

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Kaz reports what was discovered at the prison then everything goes to shit

Notes: oof this was not fun to write and its only going to get worse

Taglist: @mcntsee @amwitherspoon @cxlpxrnia @fcvcritecrime @aysegust @sagewrites111 @spawn0fsatan @itsemy01 @thedelusionreaderbitch

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper had reported their findings to the leaders of the resistance and an emergency leadership meeting was called. Inej was the only one of the three allowed in so when Y/N approached to go inside Kaz pulled her aside. He didn’t like that he was going to be outside of this, especially when he knew that Y/N would probably be asked to lead a team to confront him. He gripped her hand tight in his and kissed it. He was going to say something about making sure he went with her when he caught sight of the ink on her wrist. He turned and saw the Dregs insignia tattooed on her wrist and felt his heart do a leap.

“You…got the Dregs symbol tattooed on you?” he asked. She nodded and blushed a little when he kissed it softly. He was about to say something more when she was called inside.

“I will tell you everything that happens,” she promised, kissing his hand and heading inside. Damn how easily she could distract him. She would ask him to come anyway, she always asked him. She knew he would protect her. He headed back to his tent to rest up and get ready to head out with Y/N for the confrontation.

Y/N hated the back and forth that was going on in this meeting. Everyone knew what needed to be done but they were dancing around it, even Mal who had just agreed with her the other night about needing a confrontation. She finally had enough and stood, placing her hands on the table in front of her.

“I’ll go meet him, I will take the Fabrikator who is making the amplifier, hopefully it will be done when we arrive,” she said. One of the other leaders narrowed his eyes.

“Will you take anyone else?” he asked. “Your thug friend perhaps?” It was easy to tell that this guy was remembering the failure at Chernost, as were a few of the others. Most of the leaders didn’t like Kaz in the first place, the trip to the festival had made them even more distrustful of him and his actual abilities. She knew that Kaz wouldn’t like this but she needed to get these guys on board with her idea to get this all over with.

“I will not be taking Brekker, but I will be taking Helvar with me,” she said.

“Fahey will be going behind them as backup, he is useful in a long distance encounter,” Inej said. The others thought about it for a time, putting in a vote.

“This has been approved, you leave immediately, the Darkling was last seen about thirty miles south of here. Once you finish the confrontation come back and report what has happened” Mal said. Y/N nodded and they were all dismissed. She turned to leave when Inej was in front of her. She jumped in surprise, the Wraith still able to sneak up on anyone without warning.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a little annoyed that she was being kept from Kaz. Word about this would spread fast and she wanted to be the one to tell Kaz he wasn’t coming.

“Kaz isn’t going to like being left here,” Inej said, folding her arms. “And you didn’t even try to get him approved to join.”

“I know he isn’t, but I can’t have him out there with me. The Darkling isn’t losing strength, that rumor has to be a lie, and I can’t be there worrying about Kaz,” she said. She felt bad even saying this, it felt like she didn’t think Kaz could take care of himself, and that’s what Kaz was going to think if she didn’t get to his tent and explain herself.

“He’ll just follow you,” Inej countered. Y/N was afraid of that, but she wasn’t going to start demanding that he follow orders from her.

“I can’t stop him from doing that,” she said. “But I’m going to ask him to stay behind and if I don’t do it soon he’s going to hear about this before I can talk to him.” She shoved past Inej and headed back to Kaz’s tent to find him pacing angrily and knew it was too late.

“So you’re taking Jesper and Helvar with you but I’m not invited?” he said, glaring at her. He was seething, gripping the crow head of his cane enough that it looked like it would crack. “I’m a liability?”

“Kaz, its not that,” she said, sitting on their bed. “The Darkling is not just some gang leader to beat down, he’s the most powerful Grisha ever to live and I’m not even sure I can defeat him. I know you would run in head-first to protect me and I can’t be worrying about protecting you when I’m trying to take on him. You’re reckless and I know that you would do anything for me.” Kaz glared more at her but then sighed.

Kaz knew she was right about that, he was reckless when it came to her. Every other job he did he was ten steps ahead, he had contingency plans on top of contingency plans, but put Y/N in the middle of it and everything went out the window. He was still angry about not going but he understood.

“There’s something else I need to tell you Kaz,” Y/N said. He looked her and saw the guilty look in her eyes and knew this was not going to be good. What had she done?

“What is it?” he asked even though he wished she wouldn’t tell him. She reached into a small box she kept on the wash table and pulled out a small vial of jurda parem. She had lied to him. She hadn’t smashed it 7 months ago at the prison, she had kept it. He felt anger flair up in him again, this time it was feral. Why did she never tell him?

“I need you to keep this for me, make sure no one gets it. I can’t take it to the Darkling or everything will be lost…”

“Why the hell should I do that? Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. He was gripping his cane so hard he thought he might snap it.

“At first I didn’t know if I could trust you, that you wouldn’t see kruge and run off with it,” she said. He could agree with that, he would have done that, but after everything else? Everything he had told her about himself and his past and she still lied to him?

“I told you everything about me! Didn’t you trust me at all?” he yelled. She looked so upset but he didn’t care. She had stabbed him in the back, and he wasn’t going to let her tears sway his anger. In fact, it was feeding off her sadness. She should feel terrible, and he was going to make her feel worse.

“Kaz…I didn’t want word to get out. Someone could have heard…”

“And what if someone heard? What that they would take it? No one heard us talking at the stream all those times we met there! No one was around for that, but you still didn’t tell me. Still didn’t trust me. What else have you lied to me about? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Kaz, this was it, there’s nothing else…”

“And I’m supposed to believe any of that? I can’t believe I trusted anything you ever said. You did say that you would do anything to get me to stay in the resistance, its nice to know that even I am capable of being deceived. I guess Kaz Brekker met his match,” he ranted.

“I love you Kaz…”

“SHUT UP! Get out Y/N, nothing you can say will make me believe you. I give up, I thought, dammit I thought you were worth it, you were everything to me and now…I just want to forget you even exist,” he said. Y/N stared at him and he felt what little was left of his heart shatter. She set the vial on the basin and quietly left the tent looking so sad that Kaz almost went after her. He immediately wanted to take everything he said back, tell her he was angry, and he had been lying, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He stormed around the tent, once again destroying everything in sight. He took the parem and almost smashed it himself but then thought better of it. If she had thought he was nothing more that a money loving criminal then maybe that’s what he would become. When Jesper and Helvar got back from their little mission with her he would convince all the Dregs to leave with him, and he would leave Y/N and this whole broken country for good.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz brekker #kaz #unexpected allies series

29 notes · View notes

raeofstarshine · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Sage! @thisstableground

This may be a terrible present, and I’ve never posted fic online anywhere before, but for some reason this idea demanded to be written and so I present to you: Dr Ruben Marcado’s first day at Independence Memorial Hospital, as imagined by yours truly!

“And finally, this is the lab.” The woman pushed open a glass door with the words “Department of Pathology” written across it. Several people looked up as they entered the room, and Ruben studiously examined the stack of paperwork in his hands to avoid their stares. Since he had arrived at the hospital at 9am that morning, he had felt distinctly out of place, the laminated badge that identified him as a member of staff tapping uncomfortably on his chest every time he moved. He didn’t yet have a white lab coat embroidered with his name like everyone else, and it reminded him of the time his mother had taken him to visit a different school when he was nine. He had worn his favourite sweater, soft and pale green from washing and completely in contrast to the dark blue uniform of the students.

“There are smaller classes here, better teachers. They’ll be able to help you more.” she had said, but Ruben had never needed the teachers’ help, so why did that matter? He could feel the other students watching him all day, their eyes itching his skin, and when they got in the car to go home he told his mother he didn’t want to change schools. He may not fit in at his current school, but for the most part nobody noticed him. He preferred that to standing out.

Of course, Ruben couldn’t help but stand out now. He followed the administrator - Dr Young? - to an office at the back of the large room. With the lights off and the blinds down, it looked as though it hadn’t been used in a while. This impression was reinforced when Dr Young flipped the light switch, only for a single dim halogen bulb to flicker into life. She frowned.

“The extensions for maintenance and cleaning are in your welcome pack. This is your office, the door code is in your pack as well. Feel free to arrange it however you like.” She surveyed the room a final time, then turned to Ruben, who was looking at the various pieces of equipment on the workbench. “I’ll leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, call my office and my assistant will help you.” Ruben realised half a second late that she was holding out her hand for him to shake.

Moments later, he was alone in the dark office. A thousand thoughts chased each other down in his brain. He swiftly ran through every moment of the last four hours of introductions and admin and touring the hospital, names and paperwork and procedures and desperate hope that he was making a good impression. Should he have asked more questions? Dr Young had been pretty comprehensive, but employers liked it when you asked questions, it showed initiative, right? Or did that only apply in interviews? Ruben caught himself before his thoughts could spiral too far. Setting the paperwork down on the dusty countertop next to the door, he looked around, trying to reconcile the unfamiliar environment with the idea that this space was now his. It was spacious for an office, but small for a lab, and he wondered what its original purpose had been. An isolated area for handling hazardous chemicals maybe? That would explain the big, double glazed windows and the keypad on the door. It reminded him a little of a foreman’s office in a factory, looking out on the production line of diagnostic equipment.

For a moment, he lingered on the idea. The whole outer lab full of his employees, working on his projects, his ideas. Ruben wasn’t sure he’d make a good boss - that required leadership skills and management skills and all sorts of things that were much less easy to understand than chemicals and molecules and experiments. He sighed quietly. Future career prospects were a problem for future Ruben. Present Ruben needed food, and coffee, and he couldn’t remember how to get to the cafeteria. As he was trying to figure out how to find it without having to ask one of the technicians, a young woman knocked and stuck her head in the still-open door. She looked to be around the same age as Ruben, making her one of the youngest in the lab, and she had a nervous but friendly looking smile.

“Hi! I’m Connie, I’m a pathology PhD student here. You must be feeling pretty overwhelmed, huh? I only started six months ago, so I remember what it’s like. A thousand different bits of paper, a whirlwind tour - and you had Dr Young too, she can be pretty intense. How’re you holding up?” Ruben took a few seconds to reply, but she waited patiently. He responded with the only thing he could think of.

“I’m starving.” Connie laughed.

“Leave it to Dr Young to forget about lunch! There’s vending machines in the hall, or you can get free meals in the canteen. Do you want me to show you?” Ruben nodded, glad he hadn’t had to ask. Then, not wanting to be perceived as rude, he added,

“If it’s not any bother, that would be great, thank you.” She grinned at him and led the way out of the lab.

“This way then. Nice to meet you…”

“Oh, Ruben. Ruben Marcado.”

“Nice to meet you Ruben. And welcome to Independence Memorial! I’m sure you’ll do great things here.” Her words stirred that old instinct in Ruben, the urge to blend in, to replace his soft greenness with itchy blue camouflage. He pushed it back. He wasn’t here to be average. He was here to do what he was best at, to do what he loved, to help people. Wasn’t that worth the discomfort that came with it?

#thisstableground #I have no actual skill at writing only years of maladaptive daydreaming put to paper #I hope you like it anyway!

15 notes · View notes

violinsweetiemiss · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee Princess (Shownu X reader oneshot)

The tall sparkling glass building shines in the late afternoon sun where it sits in the midst of the bustling city that is Seoul. Outside, people walk up and down the sidewalk going about their daily lives, cars rushing past in the usual city traffic on the street next to them. In the midst of this rush of movement, a slender figure slips out the glass doors of a little coffee shop down the street from the tall glass building, a box of baked sweets in one hand and a carrier packed with coffee cups in the other.

“I’ll be right back!” You call over your shoulder at the other baristas, who only wave back cheerfully.

“Take your time!” They call, well aware of where you were going. You grin and tuck the furry hood of your coat around your head before hurrying down the street towards your destination. The chilly winter wind blows at your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but you still find yourself smiling, excited about seeing the person you were about to see. The guards in the lobby of the building wave you in, already used to seeing you appear periodically with snacks and coffee in tow. You quickly duck into one of the elevators waiting on the ground floor, tapping your feet lightly against the linoleum floor to warm up from your short trip outside. The elevator opens on the chosen floor with a light ding, and you hurry on to your destination. You walk to another pair of glass doors, identified by the bronze plaque set into the wall next to it.

Seoul Police, Violent Crimes Division.

A young man with a cheerful smile opens the door for you as you arrive, seeming to have been waiting for you.

“Noona!” He exclaims, a bright smile on his face. You find yourself smiling in response to the boy’s cheerful grin.

“Minhyuk-ah.” You say, “You’ve been waiting for me?” Minhyuk grins and nods eagerly.

“The entire division has been waiting for you!” He beams, “Your snacks are always the best after a long day of work.” He yelps as a hand hits him lightly on the head from behind.

“Yah, don’t make it sound like she’s only good for her snacks.” Jooheon chides, “That’s rude.” Minhyuk pouts and rubs the back of his head ruefully.

“Noona knows that’s not what I meant!” He grumbles. You laugh and hold out the box of baked goods you had brought.

“Here, this must be what you’re waiting for.” You say. Minhyuk’s eyes light up and he takes the box from your hands.

“Thank you noona!” He chirps and dashes off with the treats.

“Everyone!” You hear him call, “Noona brought us some treats!” Jooheon shakes his head and holds the door open for you as you walk into the large spacious office set aside for the division.

“You spoil him too much Noona.” He says. You laugh and shake your head.

“It’s nothing.” You respond, “I know you have all worked hard today. It’s just a small treat.” Ever since a year ago, every time the Violent Crimes Division returned from carrying out a mission, you would receive a call from a particular member of the division, and you would pack up some of the officers’ favorite baked goods and walk down the street to the tall imposing glass building. Given that you were the owner of the coffee shop, giving sweets for free to the hardworking officers of the Violent Crimes Division wasn’t really an issue.

You cast your gaze slowly around the bustling office space, looking for that one person in particular. However, he was nowhere to be found among the bustling police officers. You hear Jooheon chuckle softly behind you.

“Shownu hyung is in his office.” He says, pointing up the short flight of stairs to where a separate office sat, it’s blinds drawn. You grin and nod your thanks to Jooheon, your heart skipping a beat in excitement as you pick up one cup of coffee in particular from the carrier and hand the rest to Jooheon. You walk up the short flight of stairs and knock on the door softly, but hear no response. You turn to look at Jooheon quizzically, who shrugs and motions for you to go in. You hesitate for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside the pristine office. The office consisted of a large mahogany desk covered in folders and files next to a flat screen computer, each containing important information about each crime the division dealt with. A little bookshelf sat behind the desk, various trophies laid in a careful line on top. Sofas sat in a little rectangular shape on the left side of the room, lit up slightly by the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Your gaze travels around the room before landing on a tall figure sprawled out on one of the sofas

There he is.

You walk softly over to the desk and put down the drink in your hand before tiptoeing over to the sofa where the figure lay. A little smile turns up the corner of your lips as you look down at the sofa.

Son Hyunwoo, also known to his division as Shownu, was the head of the Violent Crimes Division, the youngest to ever take that position after a series of impressive achievements early on in his career. After rising to the leadership position, he had cracked down on the darkest corners of Seoul’s busy streets, greatly decreasing the crime rate and earning the praise of many.

Said accomplished man was also your boyfriend.

It had all started a little over a year ago, when you had first opened your little coffee shop down the street from the police department building. It had been a dream of yours to run your own coffee shop for a while, and you had finally found a place with the right layout and rent to fulfill it. Plus, with the police station nearby, there was a guaranteed stream of customers. Everything had gone more or less smoothly for a few months after opening, until one day you were outside taking a shipment of coffee beans when you found yourself in the middle of a standoff between a runaway criminal and the Violent Crimes Division. The criminal had been in the middle of transport from where he had been apprehended to headquarters when he had somehow managed to escape the car he was in and took off down the street.

And luckily for you, you were right in the middle of his path.

In seconds, the criminal had grabbed you and taken you hostage, holding a glinting silver knife to your neck as police officers surrounded you from both sides.

“Put down your weapons!” He had snarled, “Or else this woman will die!” You froze in place as the knife came dangerously close to your neck, your heart pounding in terror. The police drew their guns, but stood in place, uncertain of what to do. Then, a voice spoke.

“Taking a hostage? What an underhanded tactic.” Son Hyunwoo appeared from behind the group of police officers, his gaze calm and cool. Despite the situation you were in, you had felt your heart skip a beat, completely taken in by the young officer. Before the criminal could say anything else, Shownu had drawn a gun from his side and shot the criminal directly in the foot, right in the small part that your body was not shielding. As the man behind you stumbled, Shownu reached out and pulled you away from the criminal in one swift motion, kicking the man in the stomach and sending him tumbling to the sidewalk as he did so. In seconds, you found yourself in a pair of strong muscular arms, safely away from the chaos that ensued as the runaway criminal was surrounded and handcuffed again. Shownu’s touch was warm and comforting despite what had just happened, his voice calm and gentle as he helped you stand up.

“Are you alright?” He had asked. You nod and smile.

“Thank you for helping me.” You had responded.

“It’s what I should do.” He had replied gently. He was then called away by another police officer, but that was not the last you saw of the handsome young man. Before long, he seemed to realize you were the owner of the new coffee shop down the street from his workplace, and soon you began seeing him enter through the glass doors of your little shop every morning for an order of iced americano. It had started out with small little conversations while you made his coffee, how you were feeling after being held hostage briefly by a runaway criminal, little questions about how his work was going, how business was going for your shop.For his strength and unflinching bravery during work, Shownu was a surprisingly gentle and shy man outside of it, particularly when it came to talking with a woman.

But that duality was precisely one of the many things that made you feel increasingly attracted to him the more you saw him.

Shownu was soon a regular at your coffee shop, so regular that your employees began telling you when he arrived if you weren’t already at the front counter. He would smile warmly upon seeing you, and you would grin and turn to make coffee for him without needing him to open his mouth, sometimes adding a baked good with it as a treat. Within a few months, he was shyly asking you if you wanted to see a movie with him, his hands uncharacteristically clasped together nervously as he fumbled for the right words. Your cheeks had flushed hot at the invitation, knowing very well what it meant, but you had happily accepted. One movie date turned into another, followed by a first dinner together and many meals afterwards. The two of you went on walks through the nearby park together, chatting casually about anything that came to mind. You weren’t sure why, but you felt comfortable around this man, as if you could talk with him forever. He made you feel safe, and never pushed for more than what you felt comfortable with.

One thing was sure, however: slowly, but surely, Son Hyunwoo had found a place in your heart.

And so, when he had driven you home one day after having dinner together, took out a necklace he had bought at the nearby jewelry store and asked you to be his official girlfriend, you knew there was no other answer in your heart besides ‘yes.’

A full year had passed since then, and your relationship with Shownu had only grown stronger with every passing day.

You smile as you draw yourself out of the memories of the past year, and kneel down to look at the young man that had captured your heart. The young policeman was sprawled on the sofa fast asleep, one arm slung over his head. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black jeans, the top two buttons undone, revealing just a little of the well sculpted body underneath the white material. A black vest and a pair of black gloves lay where they had been tossed over the arm of the other sofa, likely where it had stayed since Shownu had thrown it there before he fell asleep. His lips were parted ever so slightly as he breathed steadily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he slept. A warm smile turns up the corner of your lips as you cup your face in one hand and trail one finger lightly over his handsome features.

“What did I do to deserve a boyfriend like this?” You muse softly to yourself, your heart fluttering just looking at Son Hyunwoo. A moment later, long fingers suddenly latch onto your wrist, and you squeak in surprise as you are yanked off your feet and onto the sofa, landing neatly on top of the figure that had surely been sleeping just a moment ago.

“You saved the world and back.” A familiar voice murmurs drowsily, sounding tired yet amused at the same time. You blink in surprise as Shownu’s eyes open slowly, his warm gaze meeting yours. Your face flushes hot as you realize you were caught staring and marveling over your boyfriend’s looks.

“I-I thought you were sleeping!” You stammer, turning your head away slightly. A soft chuckle reverberates in Shownu’s chest against your cheek.

“Silly girl.” He teases, “I was awake the moment you stepped into the room.” Your heart beats fast in your chest, your face flushing in embarrassment as you realize he’s right; he was the head of the police division dealing with some of the worst crimes in the city after all. Of course he wouldn’t be caught unaware, even while he had been sleeping.

“You should have said something!” You protest, giving him a half hearted smack on the chest. He laughs again, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other tilting your head back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you to him and gives you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I wanted to hear what praises you had for your perfect boyfriend.” He murmurs against your lips. You squeak in embarrassment and open your lips to protest but he cuts you off with another kiss, deeper and firmer this time. Blood roars in your ears as all protests fall away in the fog that comes over your brain. You hear Shownu laugh softly as he pulls away.

“Your face is as red as a tomato.” He teases, long slender fingers pinching your cheek playfully. You splutter and search for the right words to protest, but fail spectacularly in the midst of the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. In the end, you bury your face in his chest with a squeak.

“Oppa, you’re awful!” You protest with a light kick of your feet. Shownu had been a shy puppy when they had been getting to know each other, but there was an entirely different side to him that came out once they started dating. He laughs again, the sound music to your ears.

“Ah, I feel so refreshed now.” He teases, “I’ve been waiting to see my little energizer all day!”

“Is this how you’re supposed to treat a girlfriend you’ve wanted to see all day?” You grumble, your voice muffled from your current position. Shownu chuckles and ruffles your hair gently before kissing each of your fingers lightly, his other hand warm on your back.

“Is that better?” He asks, “I really did miss you, my princess.”

“Mm.” You mumble, your heart finally slowing down to a normal rate. Somehow, Shownu knew just which buttons to push to make you flustered, and which buttons to press to make you fall ever deeper in love with him. The two of you lie there on the sofa for a few minutes before Shownu turns his head towards the desk.

“I smell coffee.” He says, “Handmade by my princess.” You grin and nod.

“A hot chocolate mocha, perfect on a cold day for my hardworking Hyunwoo oppa.” You reply. He grins and carefully slips you off him before rising from the sofa and walking to the desk. You watch as he walks back with the drink and takes a sip.

“How is it?” You ask. Shownu grins.

“As sweet as my princess.” He replies. You blush again at the compliment, then giggle as you look up at Shownu.

“What?” He asks, confused. You giggle and point at his face.

“You have cream on your face.” You reply. Shownu pokes at his lips in confusion, and you laugh as you watch him struggle for a few moments before reaching up and planting a little kiss on the corner of his lip, licking away the remaining cream at the same time.

“Right here.” You reply. Shownu freezes for a moment, startled by your sudden movement. Then, he groans and covers his face with one hand, a deep sigh escaping his lips followed by a dry laugh. You tilt your head curiously, wondering what was so funny. Shownu sighs.

“I was planning on finishing these two reports on the criminals our team caught today,” He says,“But at this rate I’m not going to get a single word typed up on my computer.”

“Why not?” You ask curiously. Shownu chuckles and puts down his drink before wrapping one arm around your shoulders and planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t possibly get any work done while you’re here.” He replies, “I just want to sit here and hold you in my arms.” You blush and give him a light push.

“In that case I will head back down to the coffee shop.” You respond, even though you didn’t want to leave quite so soon, “I have delivered my snacks already, and you have work to do.” Shownu’s grip tightens as you try to stand up and you can’t help but smile in amusement as he pouts.

“Do you have to go?” He asks. You laugh softly and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“My shop will be open until you’re finished with work for today.” You reply, “How does that sound?” Shownu’s eyes light up at your suggestion, and he lets go of you reluctantly.

“Alright.” He grumbles, “I’ll finish work quickly and come to find you.” You rise to your feet and head for the door, but the moment you turn the knob, the door is pushed shut again by a large hand. You turn and see Shownu standing behind you, one arm outstretched, his palm pressed firmly against the door that he had just shoved shut.

“Oppa?” You ask, puzzled, “Did you forget something?” Shownu doesn’t say anything for a long moment, a contemplative look on his face. Then, he turns you around and pulls you into his warm embrace, your head tucked against his shoulder.

“Just give me three seconds.” He murmurs as you squirm at the sudden hug. One finger taps lightly against your back, counting the seconds as promised. After three seconds, Shownu sighs and lets you go, one hand patting you gently on the head.

“Wait for me.” He said, “We’ll eat dinner together.” You nod and give him a light peck on the cheek before turning to open the door again. You hear him sigh and within seconds the door was slammed shut again. Shownu’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Perhaps...another ten minutes of energizing wouldn’t hurt?” He suggested. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head slightly at the yearning look on his face.

“What about your reports?” You ask. Shownu chuckles and tilts your head up with one long finger.

“It can wait for a little energizing.” He replies. He captures your lips with his, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Son Hyunwoo, I love you.

#monsta x shownu #Monsta X #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #shownu #shownu scenarios #monsta x shownu scenario #kpop #kpop scenario #monsta x au #monsta x scenarios #monsta x scenario #shownu scenario #monsta x x reader #oneshot #kpop oneshot #monsta x oneshot #son hyunwoo #son hyunwoo fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 4 years ago

Text

Monday, March 22, 2021

Under Biden, A New Kind of Family Separation (Politico) The door to the U.S. has been shut tight to asylum seekers since last March, when the Trump administration issued an order at the onset of the coronavirus pandemic that every migrant—child or adult—would be immediately “expelled” back to Mexico or their home country if they attempted to cross the border, without even a chance to make a case that the persecution they face qualifies them to stay. After he took office this year, Joe Biden kept the policy largely in place, but began to admit unaccompanied minors even while continuing to expel both adults and children who enter with families. Since the shift in policy, some parents and guardians have made the devastating decision, calculated only out of desperation, to send their children off ahead of them, alone, to cross the border. The result is a new form of family separation—but instead of happening at the hands of federal agents in American government facilities, it’s taking place family by family. The fact that minors won’t be expelled like everyone else has rapidly spread by word of mouth across the length of the border. And while many families choose to stick together, the pressure to separate weighs heaviest on the most vulnerable—families who fear death, whether from persecutors who have followed them to the border, or from extreme hunger. One immigration official said, “This kind of information spreads like wildfire: If you hear about a child successfully making it, and your kids are desperate or sick or in danger, there are a lot of reasons why you would make that incredibly difficult decision.”

US businesses near border struggle with boundaries’ closure (AP) Evan Kory started calling brides in Mexico’s northern Sonora state last March, asking if they wanted to get their wedding gowns from his Arizona store just before the U.S. closed its borders with Mexico and Canada because of the coronavirus. His namesake shop in the border town of Nogales was popular among brides-to-be in northern Sonora for its large, affordable inventory, said Kory, the third-generation proprietor. Located steps from the border fence, Kory’s has been in business for half a century but has been closed for a year because of the pandemic, with its main customer base—Mexican day-trippers—largely unable to come to the U.S. and shop. In border towns across the U.S., small businesses are reeling from the economic fallout of the partial closure of North America’s international boundaries. Restrictions on nonessential travel were put in place a year ago to curb the spread of the virus and have been extended almost every month since, with exceptions for trade, trucking and critical supply chains. Small businesses, residents and local chambers of commerce say the financial toll has been steep, as have the disruptions to life in communities where it’s common to shop, work and sleep in two different countries.

Miami Beach mayor declares emergency as ‘wall-to-wall’ crowds descend on city, sparking virus fears (The Week) Miami Beach, Florida, Mayor Dan Gelber on Saturday declared a state of emergency, set an 8 p.m. curfew, and closed roads in the entertainment district as large crowds arrived in the city, sparking fears of another coronavirus surge. Law enforcement officials said people flocked to Miami Beach because they were looking for a place with fewer pandemic restrictions—Florida reopened earlier than most states—but city leadership thinks it’s gone too far, The New York Times reports. “Too many people are coming, really, without the intention of following the rules, and the result has been a level of chaos and disorder that is just something more than we can endure,” Gelber told CNN, adding that at night the city “feels like a rock concert, wall-to-wall people over blocks and blocks.” Raul Aguila, the interim city manager, said “you couldn’t see pavement, you couldn’t see grass.”

Eruption of Iceland volcano easing, not affecting flights (AP) The eruption of a long-dormant volcano that sent streams of lava flowing across a small valley in southwestern Iceland is easing and shouldn’t interfere with air travel, the Icelandic Meteorological Office said Saturday. The eruption is “minor” and there were no signs of ash or dust that could disrupt aviation, the agency said. In 2010, an eruption of the Eyjafjallajokull volcano in Iceland sent clouds of ash and dust into the atmosphere, interrupting air travel between Europe and North America because of concerns the material could damage jet engines. More than 100,000 flights were grounded, stranding millions of passengers.

Protesters Across Europe Clash With Police Over COVID-19 Lockdowns (NPR) Anger at restrictions imposed to contain the coronavirus pandemic swept into the streets of Europe on Saturday. German police used water cannons, pepper spray and clubs on protesters rallying over the coronavirus lockdown in the town of Kassel in central Germany where demonstrators numbered some 20,000. Protests against government measures to rein in the pandemic were also reported in Austria, Britain, Finland, Romania and Switzerland. Protesters held placards that read, “Fear Westmonster, Not the Virus, and “Stop Destroying Our Kids’ Lives” as they marched in central London along Oxford Street, the Embankment and Parliament Square before heading up to Whitehall.

Europe’s COVID-19 setbacks risk another summer travel washout (Reuters) Europe’s airlines and travel sector are bracing for a second lost summer, with rebound hopes increasingly challenged by a hobbled COVID-19 vaccine rollout, resurgent infections and new lockdowns. Airline and travel stocks fell on Friday after Paris and much of northern France shut down for a month, days after Italy introduced stiff business and movement curbs for most of the country including Rome and Milan. The setbacks hit recovery prospects for the crucial peak season, whose profits typically tide airlines through winter, when most carriers lose money even in good times. Airlines that have already racked up billions in debt face further strain that some may not survive without fresh funds.

Massive religious gathering worries India as COVID-19 cases surge (Reuters) India’s health ministry warned on Sunday that a huge gathering of devotees for a Hindu festival could send coronavirus cases surging, as the country recorded the most new infections in nearly four months. The ministry said up to 40 people were testing positive for COVID-19 daily around the site of the weeks-long Mahakumbh that began this month and peaks in April in the Himalayan holy town of Haridwar, next to the Ganges. The festival is held only once every 12 years. Organisers have said here more than 150 million visitors are expected, as many Hindus believe bathing in the river during this period absolves people of sins and bring salvation from the cycle of life and death.

Myanmar Protesters Answer Military’s Bullets With an Economic Shutdown (NYT) Bank tellers’ windows are gathering dust. Cargo at the port sits uncollected. And in grand government ministries in Naypyidaw, the capital of Myanmar, stacks of documents are curling in the humidity. There are few people to process all the paperwork. Since the military seized power in a coup last month, an entire nation has come to a standstill. From hospitals, railways and dockyards to schools, shops and trading houses, much of society has stopped showing up for work in an attempt to stymie the military regime and force it to return authority to a civilian government. While demonstrators continue to brave bullets—at least 220 people have been killed since the Feb. 1 coup, according to a local group that monitors political imprisonments and deaths—the quiet persistence of this mass civil disobedience movement has grown into a potent weapon against the military. For all the planning that went into the putsch, the generals seem to have been utterly unprepared for the breadth and depth of resistance against them. The effect of millions of people refusing to do their jobs has been dramatic, even if the military is built to withstand pressure. Up to 90 percent of national government activity has ceased, according to officials from four ministries.

N. Korean diplomats leaving Malaysia after ties are severed (AP) North Korean diplomats vacated their embassy in Malaysia and prepared to leave the country Sunday, after the two nations cut diplomatic relations in a spat over the extradition of a North Korean criminal suspect to the United States. Ties between North Korea and Malaysia have been virtually frozen since the 2017 assassination of the estranged half brother of North Korean leader Kim Jong Un at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Two days after Kuala Lumpur extradited a North Korean man to the U.S. to face money laundering charges, a furious North Korea on Friday announced it was terminating ties with Malaysia. Malaysia denounced the decision and in a tit-for-tat response, gave North Korean diplomats 48 hours to leave.

Strong quake shakes Japan; minor injuries, no major damage (AP) A strong earthquake struck Saturday off northern Japan, shaking buildings even in Tokyo and triggering a tsunami advisory for a part of the northern coast. No major damage was reported, but several people had minor injuries. The U.S. Geological Survey put the strength of the quake at magnitude 7.0 and depth at 54 kilometers (33.5 miles). The shaking started just before 6:10 p.m. The quake was centered off the coast of Miyagi prefecture, in the country’s rugged northeast, which was heavily damaged during the huge earthquake and tsunami of 2011 that left more than 18,000 people dead. The strong temblor caused a temporary blackout in some areas and suspended bullet train services in the area, according to the East Japan Railway Co.

Wary Philippines says 200 Chinese vessels at disputed reef (AP) The Philippine government expressed concern after spotting more than 200 Chinese fishing vessels it believed were crewed by militias at a reef claimed by both countries in the South China Sea, but it did not immediately lodge a protest. A government body overseeing the disputed region said late Saturday that about 220 Chinese vessels were seen moored at Whitsun Reef on March 7. It released pictures of the vessels lying side by side in one of the most hotly contested areas of the strategic waterway. The reef, which Manila calls Julian Felipe, is a boomerang-shaped and shallow coral region about 175 nautical miles (324 kilometers) west of Bataraza town in the western Philippine province of Palawan. It’s well within the country’s exclusive economic zone, over which the Philippines “enjoys the exclusive right to exploit or conserve any resources,” the agency said in a statement. China, the Philippines and four other governments have been locked in a tense territorial standoff over the resource-rich and busy waterway for decades.

Heavy rains in Australia’s east bring worst floods in 50 years (Reuters) Heavy rains along Australia’s east coast over the weekend have brought the worst flooding in half a century in some areas, authorities said on Sunday, forcing thousands to evacuate and damaging hundreds of houses. New South Wales Premier Gladys Berejiklian said the downpour across the state, Australia’s most populous with 8 million people, was worse than initially expected, especially for low-lying areas in Sydney’s northwest. People in parts of Sydney’s northwest were ordered to flee their houses in the middle of the night as fast-moving waters caused widespread destruction. Late on Sunday, about another 1,000 people were asked to evacuate, after Berejiklian said that some 4,000 people may be asked to leave their houses.

Pope Struggles to Contain Conservative-Liberal Tensions in Catholic Church (WSJ) Pope Francis is struggling to manage powerful bishops in the U.S. and Germany, two groups at opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, as he tries to advance his progressive agenda without jeopardizing the unity of the Catholic Church. The election of President Biden, a progressive Catholic whom some U.S. bishops want to censure for his support of abortion rights, has exacerbated longstanding tensions between the pope and the largely conservative American episcopate. U.S. church leaders have resisted promoting the pope’s priorities of social and economic justice and care for the environment over opposition to abortion and defense of religious freedom. On the left, the pope is trying to rein in German bishops who—encouraged by the pope’s liberalizing gestures on topics including sexuality, ecumenism and the role of women—are pressing for changes that go further than Pope Francis is comfortable with, and that conservatives warn could cause a schism. Each country presents “a different set of issues, a different set of struggles but I think some of the underlying dynamics are the same,” said Adam DeVille, a professor of theology at Indiana’s University of Saint Francis. “In both cases, the pope I think is really trying to say, ‘come on guys, let’s rein it in here, let’s get back into the same lane all together.’”

#headlines #news

7 notes · View notes

hysterialevi · 5 years ago

Text

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 2

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Author’s note: Just wanted to say thank you guys for all the support you gave on the first chapter. I’m definitely excited to write more for you and I hope you’ll stick around for future parts :)

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

TWO MONTHS LATER

AURORA BASIN, WEST ELIZABETH

Blackwater.

It was so close.

Dutch could see it.

Somewhere beyond those trees, all the way over the eastern horizon and past the Great Plains, lay the city that started all this. The city that caused the Van der Linde gang to transform from a simple band of outcasts... into a group of killers willing to do anything for a wad of cash.

But was anyone surprised? Probably not.

After Hosea finally succumbed to his illness five years ago, any glimmer of humanity that remained among them instantly vanished. Dutch took full control over the gang and immediately started heading back out west, eager to return to New Austin. Meanwhile, his mental health deteriorated rapidly into a state of paranoia, greed, and an incessant need for power... and the fact that Marston eventually left did little to help matters either.

At the moment, the only original gang members to remain at Dutch’s side were Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, and of course... Arthur Morgan.

Nobody ever questioned Bill or Micah’s sense of loyalty -- they rarely expressed any emotions suggesting otherwise, after all -- but to everyone’s surprise, Arthur decided to stay.

Some of the rumors said he stayed simply because he had no other family to return to. Others implied that he was waiting for Dutch to follow in Hosea’s footsteps before swooping in to become the new leader. But in reality... the reason Arthur had yet to abandon Dutch was mostly due to sentiment.

Despite everything Dutch had done over these past eight years, Arthur could still see a part of the old him lingering inside. Behind all the ravings and robbing and killing, Arthur could sense that there was something more human at Dutch’s core -- something more fatherly -- and he knew it would disappear completely if he left. So, against better judgement, Arthur stayed.

It probably seemed foolish to other people, to stick around like this. But those rare moments when the old Dutch would break through and remind Arthur of the good ol’ days definitely made it worth it. He had nothing else to care about nowadays, and it wasn’t like Arthur could just leave the gang behind. He was old now -- or at least older than before -- and even if he did abandon Dutch, he doubted he’d have enough time to start a new life for himself.

Right now, the only thing Arthur could do was accept that he was destined to be an outlaw for life... and he had.

Putting his tangled thoughts aside for a moment, Arthur returned to the task at hand and roamed down the short corridor, making his way through the derelict cabin as he went to meet Dutch in the living room.

This cabin was nice, Arthur thought, for a place that had been abandoned for so long. He and Micah found it sitting in the middle of nowhere while hunting for food at Aurora’s Basin, and decided it would be the best place to set up their new camp. At least until they finally made their move on Blackwater.

Though, Arthur couldn’t deny that he was worried for Dutch’s wellbeing. Ever since the gang first settled here, the man practically locked himself in the cabin and rarely ever came out.

And whenever he did come out, he always looked so pale. Tired. Sickly, even. Not even close to the man Arthur knew eight years ago. He could’ve sworn that Dutch’s hair was getting grayer every time he saw him, and the way his eyes often stared blankly into the distance did nothing to help ease Arthur’s nerves.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late to bring Dutch back from the edge. He might’ve been a total madman these days, but... even then, he was still like a father to Arthur. And as his son, the last thing he wanted was to see him lose himself completely.

He just feared it might have been too late already.

Finally arriving at the living room, Arthur sauntered through the narrow wooden archway and walked up to Dutch, only to be greeted by a depressing scene.

It was completely dark in here.

All the candles had been snuffed out, the fireplace lay cold with ashes, and the lamp on the ceiling did nothing but swing despondently in the chilling breeze.

At the moment, the only source of light in the room was the one in front of Dutch himself. It was a tall, somewhat cracked window that sat right underneath a broken pendulum clock, and it had a torn bundle of curtains dancing gently around it.

There was an array of pale, white sunbeams pouring through its dusty glass currently, and with the way they embraced Dutch’s figure, he looked like nothing more than a silhouette relaxing in an old rocking chair.

Arthur took a few steps towards the man, hoping to check up on him.

“...Dutch?” He called out quietly. “You, um... wanted to see me?”

The older man slowly glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name, silently beckoning his friend to come closer once he saw who it was.

When Arthur was at his side, Dutch presented a used handkerchief to him and held it up in the light, making sure the other man could see the blood splatters staining its white fabric.

Arthur eyed the handkerchief with a sorrowful gaze, letting out a morose sigh.

“You ain’t doin’ too good, huh.”

Dutch coughed a few times, his voice raspy from the irritation. “What gave it away?”

Pressing his hands against the armrests, Dutch steadily pushed himself up from the chair and rose to his feet, still facing the window as he continued to talk.

“I’m... I’m dying, son.” He said, almost sounding apologetic. “I can feel it. It won’t be long now before you and Micah are the ones in charge of this gang, and I’m buried in the ground.”

Arthur was admittedly grief-stricken by the news, but did his best to hide it and simply carried on with the conversation.

“...You really think Micah would share that kinda power with me? You know how that man is.”

Dutch put his hands on his hips. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know.”

“Well, with all respect, Dutch, I ain’t too comfortable with lettin’ the future of this gang depend on a ‘maybe.”

“Neither am I,” the older man agreed, “but I don’t know what else to do, Arthur. Even after all these years, you and Micah continue to butt heads like a pair of deer who’ve got their antlers tangled. If I’m gonna leave this world in peace, I need to know that you and Micah can work together. Otherwise...”

Dutch’s voice trailed off, leaving Arthur with a sense of dread in his gut.

“Well...” he picked up, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

Arthur shrugged in uncertainty, leaning against the wall. “So... what d’you wanna do?”

The other man returned to his rocking chair, allowing himself to sink into the flat cushion.

“Nothing. Not yet, at least. For now, we just do things the way we’ve always done them. We head for Blackwater, and we focus on the bank. My death is a bridge we’ll cross once we get to it. In the meantime, though...” Dutch gave Arthur a pleading look, “just try to cooperate with Micah, would you? For my sake. The future of this gang may depend on it.”

The younger outlaw crossed his arms, reluctant to agree but still complying nonetheless.

“...Of course, Dutch.” Arthur replied. “For your sake. I doubt it’ll be easy, though.”

That seemed to please the older man. “Thank you, son. Thank you.”

Leaning back in his chair, Dutch let his head fall back and stretched his legs out, gazing aimlessly through the open window once again.

“Oh... I wish Hosea were here. We had our disagreements from time to time, but no one knew how to keep people together quite like that old boy. It ain’t been the same since he died.”

Arthur shook his head with a sigh. “No, it hasn’t. I just wish John was here, too.”

Dutch glowered at the mention of Marston’s name. “Pfft. That man was a traitor. We’re better off without him.”

“Maybe,” Arthur conceded, “but he was still family.”

“Family don’t turn their back on you, Arthur.” Dutch countered. “If we’re going to survive this year, we’ve got to stick together. You, me, Micah, Bill, Mackintosh -- everyone. We can’t let what happened at Beaver Hollow happen again. You understand?”

The younger man hesitated to answer, unable to deny his skepticism about Dutch’s leadership.

“...I understand.” He replied regardless. The other man managed to display a small smile.

“I knew you would, Arthur.” Dutch said, shutting his eyes in order to get some rest as the day gradually came to an end. “You was always there through thick and thin. Even after John abandoned us and Hosea passed, you stuck around. You’ve been loyal from the start, and that means the world to me. Never forget that.”

Arthur pushed himself off the wall and began heading for the cabin’s front door, letting Dutch get some sleep.

“I won’t, Dutch. I won’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

SAINT DENIS

GASKILL RESIDENCE

AFTERNOON

“...Gaskill...” Isaac murmured to himself, reading the small note in his hand.

He glanced up at the house in front of him, making sure this was the right place.

“Yep,” he confirmed, talking to his horse. “I think we’re here, Aldo.”

Leaving Aldo at the hitching post, Isaac said goodbye to the majestic creature and stuffed the note back into his pocket, strolling up to the front porch.

The property wasn’t as big as some of the others Isaac had seen along the way, but he still thought it looked rather cozy. It had a total of two stories and was decorated with loads of flowers, trees, grass, and a small water fountain that stood elegantly on the front lawn. There were a few birds perched on the edge of it at the moment, and they chirped happily as the cool water trickled onto their feathers, causing them to flutter their wings joyfully.

As for the house itself, if Isaac’s information was correct, then it belonged to an author by the name of Leslie Dupont. Though, according to the research he’d done, that was just a pen name.

Her actual name was Mary-Beth Gaskill, and word on the street was that she used to be part of the Van der Linde gang... the very same gang Isaac had been tracking down for these past two months.

He had to admit, this “Dutch van der Linde” figure was proving rather difficult to find. For a while now, he had been jumping from person to person -- town to town -- just trying to get even the smallest lead.

At first, Isaac paid a visit to a general store owner named Simon Pearson who apparently used to be the gang’s cook. He talked with him for a while and shared a few drinks, only to realize that the man had a talent for speaking a lot without actually saying anything substantial.

Afterwards, he tracked down another ex-member by the name of Tilly Pierre. She appeared friendly enough and was somewhat more willing to communicate, but Isaac hardly got a word out of her before her husband shooed him away. Didn’t want suspicious folks hanging around their family, he said.

And as if that wasn’t tiresome enough already, Isaac found himself talking to a preacher called Orville Swanson who seemed to have nothing but bad memories of Dutch, and kept going on about how much Isaac reminded him of one of the gang members.

At this point, Isaac was just hoping that this Gaskill woman actually existed. It seemed like every lead he followed up would end up with more questions than answers, and all the people he talked to so far had been less than eager to speak about their experiences with him.

If Miss Gaskill didn’t have anything valuable to give him, he had no idea where he would turn next.

Stepping up to the front door, Isaac gave it a few firm knocks and waited patiently in the garden, eager to speak with this woman. After a moment or two, the door swung open from the inside, revealing Ms. Gaskill herself.

She was a lot more presentable than Isaac expected. In contrast to the rugged, hardened, mean-spirited woman he had been anticipating, Ms. Gaskill actually seemed quite sweet. She had a romantic twinkle in her eye and carried a very inquisitive nature, giving her the look of someone who enjoyed reading books and drinking tea as opposed to the ex-outlaw Isaac heard she was.

“Arthur--!” Ms. Gaskill greeted excitedly, only to cut herself off once she got a better look at her visitor’s face. “Oh, um...” a flustered chuckle escaped her, “s-sorry, mister. I... mistook you for someone else.”

Isaac smiled. “No worries. That seems to happen a lot nowadays.”

The woman cleared her throat. “Can I... can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, actually. Um...” the young man double-checked his note, “...are you Mary-Beth Gaskill?”

She nodded, immediately picking up on the fact that he used her real name. “I am. Who might you be?”

“My name’s Isaac. I apologize for interruptin’ your day like this, but... I was wonderin’ if I could ask you a few questions.”

“What about?”

Isaac hesitated for a second, unsure about how to broach the subject. “...It’s...it’s about the Van der Linde gang. I’ve heard that you used to run with them back in the day, and I was hopin’ you might be able to provide some answers. I’m lookin’ for them, you see.”

To Isaac’s surprise, the response actually seemed to earn him a more colloquial temperament from Ms. Gaskill, as opposed to the suspicious nature his previous visits induced.

“Ah... I think I understand. Of course, of course. Come on in. I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you, madam. I’ll just be a minute.”

Pushing the door completely open, Ms. Gaskill allowed Isaac to walk in as she made her way to the sitting area, preparing something for them to drink.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” She offered.

Isaac shut the front door behind him, removing his hat. “That’d be lovely.”

Mary-Beth beamed at him, gesturing to the multiple chairs that had been arranged around the room. “Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

Taking in his surroundings, Isaac sat down next to a rather nice end table and placed his hat on his lap, gazing at the decorations scattered throughout the house.

Isaac already pegged Mary-Beth for a bookworm, but he had no idea just how into it she truly was. There were numerous bookshelves filled to the brim with horror stories, mysteries, comedies, tragedies... but most of all, romances.

They seemed to occupy the shelves more than any other genre, and just by looking at the small ribbons sticking out from between their pages, it was evident that Mary-Beth was busy working her way through quite a few of them at the same time. He wondered what that said about her as a person.

“Here you go,” Ms. Gaskill said as she handed him a cup of coffee, breaking Isaac out of his thoughts. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Isaac gently brought the cup into his grasp, holding it securely as the smell of freshly-brewed coffee beans reached his nose. “Thank you.”

Giving him a smile in response, Mary-Beth retrieved her own cup of coffee before taking a seat across from the young man, admittedly intrigued by his motive for being here.

“So...” she started, “you’re lookin’ for the Van der Linde gang. May I ask why?”

Isaac took a sip. “Well, truth be told, I ain’t really concerned about the whole gang. I’m just lookin’ for a specific person who I’ve been told is with them.”

Ms. Gaskill formed her own conclusion. “So, you’re a bounty hunter?”

“In a way, I guess. Only difference is I’m not doing this for the money. My reasons are more personal.”

The young woman nodded in understanding. “I see. And how did you know I used to be with them?”

“Your friend Mr. Swanson directed me to you.”

A nostalgic look spread across Mary-Beth’s face at the sound of Swanson’s name.

“Oh, Mr. Swanson...” she reminisced warmly, “it’s been many years since I last saw him, but he was always so kind. Lost, perhaps, but kind. How is he nowadays?”

“He’s doin’ well, I think,” Isaac answered honestly. “He’s a minister now, up in New York. I don’t know what he was like when you knew him, but... Swanson seemed to be content with his life, if a bit remorseful.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ms. Gaskill said, her expression dimming slightly afterwards. “Too many of my friends from the old days ended up dead, missing, or just straight-up insane... so I’m glad that at least someone besides Tilly turned out okay.”

She downed some of her coffee, changing the subject. “But enough about that. You said you had questions about the Van der Linde gang?”

“I do.”

“Well...” Mary-Beth set her coffee down, “what would you like to know?”

Isaac decided to start at the top, inquiring about the leader himself.

“...What kind of a man is Dutch van der Linde?” He asked. “What can I expect from him?”

Ms. Gaskill chuckled at the question. “I used to ask myself the same thing everyday.”

Isaac smirked. “He’s unpredictable, I take it?”

“Understatement of the century. Though, to be fair, Dutch wasn’t always like that. When I first joined their gang, he actually saved me. A couple of men had just caught me stealin’ from them and were chasing me over the hills until Dutch scared them off. He was so generous back then. So passionate.”

“Yeah?” Isaac noted. “How so?”

Mary-Beth leaned forward, gesturing with her hands. “Well, even though Dutch was technically an outlaw, he never really came across as one. He was more like a teacher, or a guardian. A father even, to some. He loved us all, and we loved him, but...”

A melancholic sigh escaped the young woman. “...things just... spiraled out of control. As the years passed by, civilization began to spread, the law started killin’ our people, and eventually, Dutch just... snapped. In the end, he was more akin to a tyrant than anything, and the gang fell apart within a few short months. That was when I decided to run away with my friends, but... not everyone made it.”

Mary-Beth’s expression sank with sorrow, causing Isaac to blurt out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Gaskill. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She reassured. “I just wish things could’ve turned out differently, y’know? Not everyone in the gang was rotten. Some of them were actually quite wonderful... but it’s rarely the good ones who survive. I’m just surprised to hear that the Van der Linde gang is still going. I thought the rest of them would’ve scattered to the winds by now.”

Isaac drank some more of his coffee. “D’you have any idea where I could find them?”

Ms. Gaskill thought for a moment. “Well, if there’s anythin’ I know about Dutch, it’s that he probably headed back to the west.”

The young man quirked a brow. “The west? That’s a pretty big region. You have any specific states in mind? Or cities? Anything that could narrow it down?”

“Hmm... Dutch used to talk a lot about New Austin,” she suggested. “Apparently, he’s quite fond of the desert. Said it made him feel closer to the sky. I know he was always eyeballin’ that town Blackwater, too.”

“Blackwater...” Isaac repeated, mentally marking the town as his next point of interest. “I’ve been there a few times. Do you know why he’d be hangin’ around there?”

Mary-Beth shrugged. “No idea. All I know is that eight years ago, a ferry job in Blackwater nearly finished the whole gang. Perhaps Dutch feels like he has unfinished business there. Probably sees the town as a trophy he never got to win.”

“Hmm... that makes sense. And what about his numbers? How many men did Dutch have when you was with him?”

The woman conjured up a quick estimation. “Roughly two dozen, I think. Possibly a few more. But I can’t imagine he has that many people following him around these days, considerin’ how maniacal he was when I last saw him.”

“I see. So, he’s likely got a good chunk of people with him.”

The young man finished his coffee and placed the empty mug on the end table, preparing to leave.

“Well, I think I’ve gotten all the answers I needed, Ms. Gaskill. Thanks for takin’ the time to help me out. I really appreciate it.”

Mary-Beth smiled sincerely. “Anytime. It was good to talk about the old days, no matter how chaotic they might’ve been. I just hope you can find whomever it is you’re lookin’ for. Are they a friend of yours?”

Isaac chuckled. “Hardly. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Ah. So you’re trackin’ down an enemy. Well, be careful out there, then. Things may be more civilized nowadays, but many gangs still roam the country. Not to mention that Dutch himself is exceptionally dangerous. Stay safe during your search.”

The man rose to his feet, heading to the door. “I will. Believe me. Oh, and um... Ms. Gaskill?” Isaac threw a look of gratitude at her, putting his hat back on before stepping out into the sun. “Thanks for the coffee.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #dutch van der linde #Micah Bell #mary-beth gaskill #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc

49 notes · View notes

flightfoot · 4 years ago

Text

The Role of an Alpha

AO3 @adrichatnovember2020

Adrien hid in his room, breathing deeply.

Earlier that day he’d presented as an Alpha.

His father, of course, was thrilled.

“So you are an Alpha.”

That was the first thing he’d said to Adrien as he walked through the door, having been sent home early by the school nurse.

Adrien took in his father’s scent.

Strong.

Musky.

Very clearly Alpha.

Not that he needed to smell him to know that. Gabriel exuded Alphaness in everything he did, from the way he brushed over other’s concerns to the way he asserted his will, expected everyone to submit to his needs and wishes.

“Alphas are in charge, as nature intends,” he’d told Adrien before, tightly gripping his shoulder. “Omegas simply exist to follow orders, betas little better.”

Looking into Adrien’s eyes, he’d asked him softly, “You’re going to be an Alpha, aren’t you?”

Adrien had wanted to respond. To tell him that he had no idea, it wasn’t exactly something he was in control of. And deeper down, that if THIS was what it meant to be an Alpha - if being an Alpha just meant stepping over everyone else - then he’d rather be anything else.

Ultimately, he’d said nothing.

But now that he’d presented?

The part of him that’d balked then, that’d wanted to protest, to chew him out, was too strong to ignore.

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Adrien snapped bitterly. “That I’m on top. That I’m above everyone else. That I don’t somehow reflect badly on you.”

His father’s eyes widened. “Mind your tongue!” he snarled, a small growl emerging. “I am still your father. You may be an Alpha, but you’re still just a pup. And I am YOUR Alpha.”

“Is that all being an Alpha means to you? Yelling at everyone else, punishing them if they step out of line - out of YOUR line?!”

Gabriel’s eyes hardened. He stepped down the stairs, each footfall a prognostication of doom.

He grabbed Adrien’s wrist. “I do not think you will need these anymore,” he’d told Adrien, throwing away the suppression pills the nurse had given him to help him ride through his first rut. “You will get through it like an Alpha should, not debasing yourself with suppressants,” he said in disgust.

And that was how Adrien had ended up here, desperately trying to ignore his body’s anguished cries.

He grit his teeth. Most of the Alphas in class had Omega friends to calm their hormones, to keep them comfortable, and vice versa. Chloe had Sabrina for instance, while Alya had Marinette.

He hadn’t been around for Alya’s presentation, sadly. But Marinette had recounted it with great gusto during one of the few opportunities they had to hang out.

Chloe’d been tearing into Marinette on the first day of the new school year, trying to get her to move seats. She’d just presented as an Alpha a couple months ago and had been thoroughly enjoying the added intimidation boost it provided her.

She hadn’t expected some random new girl to stand up to her.

Nor for that girl to suddenly start leaking a musky scent.

Since then Alya’d taken a lead in protecting the class - though protecting HERSELF? Not so much.

Not that she was the only one. Marinette had been inspired by Alya’s display, had gotten some confidence herself, to the point she ran for - and won! - the class rep position, with Alya as. her deputy.

Her subsequent reveal as an omega had come as a shock. Everyone had assumed she’d be an Alpha, or a Beta at least.

But Omega?

She’d seemed nervous, scared even, when she first presented.

Afraid that her friends would treat her differently.

But well… she was still Marinette. Her being an Omega didn’t change that.

She was still their friend, still their class rep.

Omegas had grown more common in leadership positions - something Paris became acutely aware of when Ladybug herself presented.

It had been assumed by most of Paris’s population that the suits masked the two heroes’ scent glands. That Ladybug was almost certainly an Alpha, POSSIBLY a Beta, and that Chat Noir was probably an Omega, possibly a Beta.

Until Ladybug had arrived at a fight, feverish and smelling sweet.

They’d still defeated the akuma, but Chat Noir had had to do more heavy lifting than normal - there was a reason Omegas were often given reduced workloads during their heats, especially anything requiring physical exertion.

Whispers emerged throughout Paris. ‘Can Ladybug really protect us if she’s vulnerable to an Omega’s heats?’ ‘An Omega, even one with superpowers, shouldn’t expect others to follow their orders. It isn’t the way of things.’ and worst of all ‘Ladybug should give her Miraculous to an Alpha. They’ll make better use of it than she ever has.’

People began looking to Chat Noir more, addressing him as the leader instead of Ladybug, who they’d deferred to before. Something that clearly made both Ladybug and Chat Noir uncomfortable, with Ladybug looking downcast and Chat Noir being more snappish with the press.

Until finally they’d given a news conference, Ladybug and Chat Noir taking the stage, addressing the preconceptions and discrimination Ladybug had been put through by the city because of her being an Omega.

Not that she was the only one.

Many other prominent Omegas emerged to tell their story. Even some less prominent, more ordinary citizens, pushing back against the idea that being an Omega made someone somehow less worthy of respect, less worth listening to.

The Ladyblog featured all of this in great detail of course, with follow-up interviews with everyone who’d spoken. As Alya and Marinette excitedly told the class afterwards, they’d helped arrange it, researching activists in their area as well as asking for people to message the Ladyblog with their thoughts and experiences being an Omega.

A lot of the grumbling had died down after that - at least where the rest of Paris could hear it.

Adrien grimaced. Unfortunately, Father had been one of the ones who HADN’T been cowed.

Not that he’d expected him to be, with his… traditional attitude towards Alpha’s, Beta’s, and Omega’s roles in society.

Fumbling around, Adrien reached out from underneath the covers, grabbing the remote that opened up his window. Much too high to climb out of unfortunately (he’d tried), but at least it let in the cool air from outside. Right now, that sounded good.

Ahhh.

He was right, this did feel good. And something about the air smelled exceptional today...

As if in a trance, he left his blanket fort, coming closer to the window.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath.

It smelled so NICE, so sweet, almost like-

His eyes blew open.

Just in time to get a face-full of superhero.

“OOPH!”

Adrien blinked.

Green, slitted cat eyes blinked back.

And drooped as Chat Noir turned into a pile of mush in his arms, purring up a storm as he cuddled close.

Careful not to disturb him, Adrien leaned in near his neck, getting a good whiff of his scent glands.

Omega.

Very, very clearly Omega.

He examined Chat Noir more closely; his flushed cheeks, his twitching tail, his glazed eyes.

“Chat Noir?” he asked carefully. “Are you alright?”

He kicked himself. Of COURSE he wasn’t alright, he was in the midst of his first heat - a pretty intense one too, from the looks of things.

“Mmmmphhhhhrrrrrrrr?” Chat Noir asked.

Well. ‘Asked’ may have been overselling it a bit. ‘Mewled with a questioning tone’ more like.

“Do you know where you are?” He clarified.

Chat Noir just purred and nuzzled his neck, getting a good whiff of his own scent glands.

WOW he was out of it.

“I’m gonna move you, alright?” he told Chat Noir softly, picking him up as gently as he could.

He’d seen how Alya’d helped Marinette through her own heats, though none of them had been as bad as this.

First, a nest.

At least that was easy - good thing, since he had zero notice to prepare one.

Lowering Chat Noir into the mess of blankets he’d just vacated (Chat giving a confused-sounding “mew?” as he did so), he got up to find what else he needed.

A couple minutes later he was back at Chat Noir’s side, coaxing him to drink sips of some nice, cold water, as well as bringing him the few stuffed animals he’d managed to save from his father’s purges.

As Chat Noir sipped the water (Adrien holding onto the cup; right now Chat didn’t seem confident in his ability to hold it steady), the red gradually started fading a little.

Adrien put his hand on Chat Noir’s forehead. He definitely felt cooler than he had when he first landed on him.

“Chat Noir?” he tried again, making sure to keep his voice low and soft. “Do you know where you are?”

Chat Noir blinked up at him, still looking a little hazy, but like he was at least attempting to focus. “You’re… that model boy… right?” he asked hesitantly. His voice sounded a little slurred, but at least he was speaking words.

Inwardly Adrien winced. Of course that’d be what he was known for; how ELSE would Chat Noir have heard of him? It’s not like he knew either of the Parisian heroes very well. They’d run across each other during akuma attacks of course, especially with how often their class ended up targeted in one way or another, but they didn’t exactly have time to chat.

Outwardly he made sure to not change his expression. “Yeah, that’s me. You crashed into my house a few minutes ago.”

Chat Noir vaguely looked around. Adrien suspected he’d just become aware of his surroundings.

A tinge of panic colored Chat’s expression. “I- I’m sorry,” he burst out, shrinking in on himself. “I- I didn’t mean to- if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Adrien shook his head, kneeling down so his head was level with Chat’s. “If you want to leave, then you can. I don’t want you to stay any longer than you’re comfortable with.”

Chat’s eyes widened, then relaxed a bit, looking downcast. He began shuffling around with the blankets, attempting to stand.

Omega unhappy needs reassurance needs support

Adrien sucked in a breath. That surge of protectiveness, of the need to defend, to make sure Chat Noir was okay - he’d never felt anything quite like it before.

This… this was what being an Alpha meant to him. Not trampling over others, exerting will and dominance over them.

But being there for them if they needed it, helping to make sure every member of the pack knew how much they were wanted, needed, cared for. To lift them up, not tear them down.

Sometimes that might mean giving them space.

Sometimes that might mean staying put, letting them know you’ll be by their side.

“But just because I’m okay with you leaving, doesn’t mean I want you to,” he told Chat Noir, trying to possess every ounce of sincerity he could muster, to reach out and let him know on a fundamental level how much he cared for him. “I don’t want to keep you here or coerce you to stay. I don’t want to force you into anything, or feel like you need to do anything to please me or because you feel like you need to pay me back for something. I just want you to do what you feel most comfortable, what you feel safest doing.

Chat Noir, what do you want?”

Chat Noir looked momentarily stunned.

He swallowed thickly. “I- I want to stay here for a little bit. If that’s okay with you!” he added hastily. “I don’t think I can get back home right now and… and I don’t really want to.” His ears turned backwards, flattening against his head.

“Are you okay with me touching you?” Adrien asked.

Chat Noir nodded.

Adrien sat down on the bed. Chat Noir leaned into him, Adrien stroking his head, like his mom used to do with him when he was little.

His mom couldn’t scratch him behind his cat ears though, on account of not having them.

...most of the time.

(He’d always had a thing about cats.)

They stayed there for the next several hours, Adrien checking up on Chat Noir regularly, making sure he was okay with the close proximity, asking whether he’d like food or drink, just… taking care of him, while making it as clear as he possibly could that Chat could ask for things, that Adrien WANTED him to ask for things, and that he wouldn’t force his will on Chat Noir.

At last, the heat dissipated to the point that Chat Noir could get up. Could walk around.

Chat Noir looked out the window longingly, then back at Adrien.

Adrien smiled at him. “It’s time for you to go, I’m guessing?”

Chat Noir hesitated, then gave a short, sharp nod.

“Then go.”

Chat turned around to leave, but hesitated, looking back at him, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“If you ever need to come by again, for cuddles or support or just… just because you want to? Please, please come,” Adrien told Chat. “Just check to make sure my father isn’t around first, alright?”

Chat Noir laughed, pole-vaulting into the night.

#adrichat #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega verse

14 notes · View notes

selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 5 years ago

Text

The Lore of the Forest - Chapter 1: What Winter Brings

Summary: Nothing ancient and magical is ever really lost. When the descendants and heirs of the myths and legends come together to live a normal life, something - someone - is thrown into their plans. Bringing with them aid, magic and so much more.

Pairing: Eventual BTS x Reader Genre: Poly, Romance, Fantasy

Chapter Warnings: Hidden Greek myth pun, Seokjin as town doctor, reader! appears, sick kids, lots of Seokjin focus sorrynotsorry, unedited, lots of backstory

Word Count: 7k+

Taglist: @xxqueenwxtchxx @lysannnnaa PROLOGUE HERE

Being back in the village is odd, Jungkook decides, especially since he has no recollection of his own absence.

Everyone in the village, from the young ones to the few remaining elders, look at him like he’s a ghost for the first few days of his return. Every time he approached someone, they’d turn to him with a small jolt as if they didn’t expect him even with him announcing his presence time and time again. It bummed him out for a bit but considering how the whole village mourned for him for almost a month, it was more than understandable and worth the awkwardness after every encounter.

At least now, there’s no more suppressed shrieks from the old ladies in the market.

Humming, Jungkook nods to himself, reaching for his wardrobe and picking out one of his brother’s shirts. They’d really gone ahead and burned all his clothes, huh? Good thing Taehyung’s still got some of his bigger shirts lying around. Brushing off some cloth balls, Jungkook shrugs on his thick coat and heads out the cottage.

Winter’s almost here, making its presence known with the barren trees and biting winds. The village streets are almost deserted, the inhabitants of their settlement preferring to stay at home and tend to their families. Snow has not fallen yet, and the few that are out are mostly adult men and women, gathering the last of their supplies for the coming cold, strengthening the roofs of their houses and bringing in their smoked catch.

Seokjin had mentioned that by the looks of the stars, it’s going to be one of the harsher winters they’ve had. As Jungkook’s feet lead him to the healing hut, he remembers the harshest winter their settlement has gone through.

He was only thirteen then, and the settlement was only composed of seven people. None of them older than eighteen. Seven young teenagers from different lineages, all thrown out from villages that didn’t want them and feared them. Remembering it now, still, brings forth a bitter taste in Jungkook’s mouth. He had never been one of the forgiving ones in their family.

That winter, they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and some dried fruits they’ve managed to steal from their wanderings from town to town. Their eldest, Seokjin, had only been eighteen but he and his other older brothers had done their best to scrounge up resources before winter hit, however, no matter how much they worked odd jobs for the “purebloods” – humans – it still wasn’t enough. When the first harsh gale came, Namjoon managed to convince an old kind gentleman to let them stay in his storage hut for the winter, in exchange for never ending fire. The old man, with winter living in his bones, was wedded to a woman who had spring in hers, so he wasn’t foolish enough to even think of turning them down.

However, the moment Jungkook, all young and barely presenting of his old blood, stepped from behind Hoseok everything came crashing down and they were sent packing.

(After, long long after, once the old couple’s children found their settlement, they found out that their lineage was nearly driven extinct by an old feud between them and Jungkook’s old blood. It was a bloody war, they’d said and their father, up until his death, still flinched at the sound of howling wolves.)

After they were kicked out – with the old man reluctantly parting with some of their supplies at the glare of his wife – Jungkook managed to sniff out an den deep in the forest. It was one of the few remaining dens of the old wolves, large enough to fit three adult werewolves and definitely large enough for seven of them – a bit tight but who were they to complain?

It was there, huddled together for warmth, did the eight of them spend what turned out to be the worst winter in two decades. It was there where Namjoon swore that it will never happen again – and where Jungkook swore he would follow that older male his entire life.

It took two years of non-stop work, of many many rejections and threats, one near-famine and, trial and error when it comes to farming and medicine, for them to finally settle down in their home between two mountains. And after that, it only took months for families to join them, it started with young adults, then their ailing parents and then their children. All of them believing in Namjoon’s leadership, brought forth by Yoongi’s expertise and Seokjin’s medical knowledge, charmed by Taehyung, assured by Hoseok’s strength and Jungkook’s hunt and kept by Jimin’s warmth.

As the healing hut came to view, Jungkook chews on the thought that the one thing he brings to the village is now banned by his brothers. He hasn’t been allowed to hunt since his return. Although a part of him understood, another part is disappointed that his skills couldn’t be put to use especially during these times. Winter means scarcity and scarcity means a possibility for people to starve.

He’d tried once to sneak out only to find out that Taehyung had put a subtle tracking charm on his person that notified them when he tried to step into the forest. And now, he’s rendered to be Seokjin’s assistant and errand boy in the healing hut.

“Jungkook! Great, you’re here!”

The wolf descent looks up to see his hyung looking ragged and wearing a cloth around his nose and mouth. Before he could ask, the son of fae tosses him a similar cloth and gestures him to tie it tight.

The moment he enters the healing hut, he understands.

Inside the hut is what looks like a half of the village kids, lying on cots parallel to the walls, all looking wan and weak even under the warm light. At the farthest corner of the room was Jimin, murmuring comforting words to a young girl around five while he wipes her arms with a cool cloth. Jungkook quickly walks towards Seokjin.

“Hyung, what’s happening?” he asks, words slightly muffled by the cloth around his face. Behind him, a watery cough splutters out a boy of six years old, quickly covered by his own mother sitting vigil by his side.

Seokjin pauses from reaching into his medicine cabinet. The cabinet is littered by different colored vials, some glass jars filled with roots and powders, all labeled with Seokjin’s crisp handwriting. This close, Jungkook could see the exhaustion in the older male’s eyes and the slight tremble of his hand. Quietly, Seokjin tips his head to the backroom and walks away with several jars.

The backroom of the healing hut is a relatively new addition, created to provide Seokjin some breathing space away from his patients. Usually, the patients are seen to where the kids are lying and then sent home to recover in their homes, with occasional visits from the village doctor.

Inside the backroom is a small bed and a large wide table. The table is littered with notes and powder marks from the upturned pestle and mortar. With a muted thud, Seokjin sets down the jars and rips away the mask from his face. Frustrated, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

“We’ve got ten kids sick in the middle of winter, that’s what we have.” Seokjin sighs and flops down the chair. He hasn’t slept in more than a day, only getting half hour sleeps while shifting with Jimin and Taehyung. It’s not sustainable, even if it’s only been a few days.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. Ten? “But, yesterday we only had two. And I saw Yeon-Joo with Jimin back there. Didn’t we give her medicine three days ago?”

“That’s the thing.” The older male sighs, reaching out for his charts. In clear handwriting, he could see the emerging pattern and it’s not looking pretty. For the past week, all the ten kids in the other room came with the same symptoms characteristic of a cold. Common, especially with the cold change of the weather.

Seven days ago, it was the eight year-old daughter of the newly arrived couple from the east. Upon observation, Seokjin diagnosed it as a case of travel fatigue and sent the daughter and her mom with a vial of cold medicine.

Three days after, the triplets of the dryad descent came in with the same symptoms. Seokjin kept them overnight, running himself ragged at taking care of three puking kids at the same time. The day after they felt better and went home with a tweaked vial of stomach flu medicine, only to be replaced by two siblings, followed by another four in two days.

It was quiet for a few days until today, when Seokjin found a long line of parents carrying their kids – the same kids- in front of the healing hut.

Seokjin’s eyes focus on the charts and saw one common factor. All of the kids live in the same area, near the park and the registry, except one – Yeseo, the newcomers’ daughter. If his hunch is right, he’d have to notify Namjoon to convene what to tell the parents, else an argument and finger-pointing ensue.

“Jungkook, I need favor.”

And that’s how Jungkook finds himself in front of Yeseo, mask down and ready to sniff around the kid. Part of the reason why Namjoon assigned him in the healing hut is his acute sense of smell. Perks of being a wolf descent, he teased. It has helped them in the past to determine if someone was sick, or getting sick, or if something is poisonous or not.

I bet hyung didn’t see it coming this handy so soon.

Seokjin deemed it safe for him to get close as the children’s parents were left healthy even with constant exposure to their kids. Jungkook resolves to ignore the worried adults hovering behind him and sits low beside the trembling girl.

The babe’s face is flushed and sweat beads down her cheeks. With fearful eyes, she stares at Jungkook before flicking towards her mom. Her lips tremble.

“Hey, hey.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet, “Don’t cry. I’m not going do anything bad. Just going to check up on you, yeah? So you could get better faster.”

“And make snowballs?”

A fond smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips and he nods. “Yeah, and have snowball fights. Now, stay still for me, okay?”

Jungkook leans forward, close enough that there’s only a few centimeters between his nose and Yeseo’s forehead. He sniffs quietly, eyes closed and focused.

Underneath the smell of sweat, dry vomit and porridge are the nauseating smell of fear and nervousness. Detecting nothing different from normal cold, Jungkook moves to lift Yeseo’s wrist to his nose. Sniffing, he shuts his eyes tighter, blocking all the outside smells from his thoughts – from Jimin’s soap to the smell of ash from the fireplace – and finds something… sweet.

Dropping the child’s wrist gently, Jungkook looks at Seokjin and beckons him closer. The parents, sensing the atmosphere, give them space while Jungkook whispers to the fae descent.

Seokjin nods at the words before turning to Yeseo and her mom. “Sweetheart, did you eat something sweet? A fruit, maybe?”

The child tucks her head down as her mother answers. “No, we don’t have anything sweet in our house. And, we’ve only bought meat and vegetables from the market since we came here.”

The village doctor nods, understanding, before tilting his head to the young kid. Subtly, Seokjin releases some of his energy, enticing Yeseo to feel calm and honest. Her eyes turn slightly glassy and her cheeks flush prettily before she shifts in her place.

After a few moments, the child produces a small pouch from underneath the bed. “I… I found it before we came here. They’re my new favorite berries.”

Confused, the mother turns to her child and plucks the pouch from her little hands and gives it to Seokjin. When Seokjin opens it, the faint sickly sweet scent hits Jungkook like a raging bull and by the looks of it, Seokjin and Jimin are reeling from it too.

“What’s that?” Jimin asks from behind them.

Seokjin measures the heft of the silk pouch on his palm, feeling small malleable spheres inside. Opening it, Seokjin holds his breath and plucks out one bruised orange berry. Dread creeps under his skin, colder than the gusts of wind outside.

“Fetch Namjoon.”

The townhall is less of a hall and more of an open gazebo, located at the center of village right under the bell tower. It used to be a site for an ancient sequoia tree but a summer storm blew its branches down, to the point that it became dangerous being around it.

Instead of uprooting the tree, their group decided to carve the townhall inside its trunk. Now, it stands a few stories tall with high ceilings and open doors and windows. If you stand at its entrance, you can see the village vegetable gardens behind it. The trunk’s carved with tree carvings, leaves and fruits, honoring the creature it’s built in. Usually, the beauty and spaciousness of the townhall brings a sense of calm to meetings but, with the crowd of worried parents in thick coats – it’s anything but.

“Calm down. Everybody! Calm. Down.” Namjoon’s booming voice brings the crowd to a silence as he makes his way to the center, where Seokjin and Jungkook stand. At the left corner of the townhall, Hoseok towers, keeping an eye out for his brothers while Yoongi sits in front of the crowd and Taehyung hovers over the second-floor balcony.

The small pause of silence is broken by a large man with muted red hair and vibrant blue eyes. He wears very thin clothes compared to those around him, and towers over others by almost two feet.

“I knew we shouldn’t have accepted outsiders this close to winter!” he exclaims, and Seokjin remembers him to be the father of the sturdy triplets he watched over. For a winter giant descent, he’s got a fiery temper and a warm heart.

Murmurs of agreement fill the hall, and suddenly, the cold melts away. From the center of the room, Yoongi watches almost amusedly at how Namjoon controls his temper against the mere thought of it the way he controls his fire – seething just beneath the surface, crawling all over the floors.

“And let them suffer a winter homeless?” Namjoon asks, calmly and yet all of them could see the faint smoke curling from his nostrils. “Shin-hyung, you should know how bad winter can be for children.”

The winter giant descent flinches and holds his younger daughter, the only one who didn’t get sick, closer against his knees. Beside him, his human wife huddles close, likely remembering the last winter they spent in the mountains before finding this settlement.

“That’s not what this village stands for.” Namjoon reminds the people, “It’s founded by us who were cast away, do we really want to turn into the very people who left us for dead?”

At this, everyone is silenced.

From his corner of the room, Hoseok grins. It’s almost amazing how far Namjoon has come, from a reluctant leader of a bunch of kids to one who commands not only people’s attention but also their loyalty and trust through competence and empathy. Hoseok’s sharp eyes flicker up where Taehyung is and catches a sight of a sheer film laying over the people. It doesn’t take a second for each and every one to sit down calmly.

Hoseok shoots the younger male a warning glare, to which Taehyung just shrugs and flutters his fingers with a motion.

That kid can be very terrifying.

“Now, thank you for coming at such short notice and at such a weather. But this is the easiest and fastest way to relay information given how valuable time is to us now that winter’s coming,” Namjoon begins and turns to Seokjin. “Jin-hyung, will you share what you found?”

Seokjin steps forward and produces one of the percyberries from the Yeseo’s silk pouch. “This is a percyberry. I’m sure you’re all familiar with this. They tend to grow along the river bend a few kilometers from here. It was used to dress flesh wounds during the war, but was discouraged from patronage because of its ill effects when eaten.”

Seokjin pauses and empties the pouch on the table in front of him. “It causes dizziness and headaches for adults and flu-like symptoms for children, that when left untreated may cause death.”

Gasps erupt in the townhall and Hoseok curses Seokjin’s flair for the dramatic.

“Death??”

“My baby!”

“BUT! Since we’ve been treating them since the week before with similar medicine that combat percyberry poisoning, your children will be fine. We still decided to call everyone here to ask if any other child have eaten one of these”

Yeseo said she picked over two dozens and gave it away as offerings of friendship to the children in town when she and her family arrived. There are ten sick kids in the healing hut right now, assuming they ate two each and Yeseo ate four (or so she says) it should be all accounted for, but it’s never a bad idea to be thorough.

With a quick check-in on the remaining village kids and after making sure they didn’t eat even a bite of it. The townhall moves to a different and yet related concern.

“While we can treat your children, we have to ask for your help as well,” Jungkook starts with a parchment of paper in his hand, “Due to the several days straight of using our supplies, we’re running low on some roots and leaves, I have a list here with me. If you have any to spare, please let us know or drop it off the healing hut.”

It’s already near supper when the townhall dismisses. Seokjin left shortly after Jungkook finished listing the supplies to attend to the children they left with Jimin while the rest of them accompanied Namjoon as he answers the concerns and questions of the settlers.

Cast under the shadows from the hearth, Seokjin and Jimin watch over the children, their eyes sharp and catching each and every breath from each one. They’ve just finished brewing and administering the tweaked formula of the cold medicine to the children and the results are already showing. Unlike the nights before, at least this time, they’re sleeping through the night.

All of them, except one – Yeseo.

They’ve already given her two doses in the span of six hours, and yet, there’s very little improvement. As Seokjin watches her toss and turn in her bed, he sighs, exhaustion evident in his shoulders.

“I wish I’d inherited my kind’s healing abilities. Instead, I’m just good looking.”

Jimin looks at his hyung’s wry smile and stays silent, knowing how rare the older male lets his guard down. Seokjin may be all jokes and self-confidence, but when it comes to being the village doctor, he’s wrought with insecurities and fears.

“I should’ve diagnosed her correctly earlier.” Seokjin bites his lip and clenches his fist against his lap. “I wasn’t looking hard enough.”

“Hyung, nobody would’ve guessed that it’s percyberry poisoning – it’s winter. Percyberries only fruit during spring. Nobody would’ve thought of it.” Jimin reaches out to unfurl Seokjin’s fist and curls his fingers around his, “Besides, you figured it out and you formulated the new medicine. It was just a mistake.”

Yeah, a mistake that can cause a child’s life. Seokjin almost replies. It’s his fear that although Yeseo looked only as worse as the other kids before even after eating four pieces of the berries, it doesn’t mean she’s in the same amount of danger. Percyberry poisoning can be a hidden devil – striking fast and in the dark. Seokjin doesn’t want to attend a six year-old’s funeral.

“She’s going to be fine, hyung. Look, why don’t you nap in the backroom? I’ll take first watch.”

Winter’s first steps arrive in their town just as the kids recover and go home to their delighted and relived families. All of them, except one.

“It’s been three days and all the other kids already got better. Tell us, what’s happening to our daughter?”

It’s noon and yet the windows rattle with the intensity of the winds. The sun has not been out since yesterday. The healing hut is empty of ill children except one and Seokjin could see her from the little window of the partition between the backroom and waiting room. Deathly pale and shivering underneath thick layers of blankets. Jungkook’s beside her while Jimin naps on one of the vacant cots.

Beside Seokjin, Namjoon answers Yeseo’s father.

“Our healers have administered the medicine continuously since three days ago, however, we think with the number of berries Yeseo consumed, it will be much more difficult for her body to recover.”

It’s a diplomatic statement, kind in a way but not as honest as the father would’ve liked. So, he turns to Seokjin, with red-rimmed eyes, surprised when he meets another pair lined with despair too. Oh, this descendant of faes is still so young in many ways.

“Fae son, I’m a descendant of the dryads, cousin, tell me the truth.”

Seokjin, sat across the man and his wife, straightens in his seat at the word. His inky black eyes flickers back to the sleeping child, trying to will the color to come back to her cheeks. But what is will against facts? “The toxins has reached her intestines and the medicine is only managing the symptoms at this point. With the amount of percyberries Yeseo consumed, I’m afraid she won’t make it through winter.”

A heart wrenching sob tears through Yeseo’s mother as she clutches her husband for support. Had she not been sitting, her knees would’ve buckled and slid her down to the floor. Her baby, her precious innocent baby dead before tasting a better life? No.

“Is there anything else we could do? Anything! Please. I can’t lose our baby.”

Yeseo’s mother is a wisp of a woman, short and slim and with grief etched to her face, Seokjin doesn’t expect the intensity with which she grabbed his wrists. Her husband beside her keeps his anguish inside him, quiet like a storm, trying to keep at least one of them stable.

Seokjin shuts his eyes and weighs his options. Ignoring the weight of Namjoon’s stare and the imploring eyes of Yeseo’s parents, he remembers back to last night when he spent countless of hours going through the old texts he’d gathered over the years. In one book lined with golden boughs, he found a procedure so promising… and yet so risky.

It’s a book previously owned by a pure human doctor. (Though Seokjin thinks he’s part fae, just that he didn’t know it. The book was practically a half-diary with all he wrote at the margins and he had many, many lovers and one really bad heartbreak) It told of a perceberry poisoning case during the war wherein a female doctor extracted the poison directly from the patient’s body using a medical technique harnessing nature’s energy while making use of a differently ratioed concoction of the antidote mixture. It said to be inserted straight into one side of the patient’s body like a bubble, and pulled through a deep cut at the other side. It was supposedly repeated until the patient starts to vomit clear saliva.

Seokjin isn’t a doctor or a healer. Not really. He never got the chance to apprentice for someone, nor did his family ever get the chance to train him. The only reason he became the village doctor was because he’s the only one with the slightest familiarity with sicknesses and cures, all learned from a brief stint as an errand boy in a rundown clinic when he was thirteen.

But that doesn’t matter – because at this moment, regardless of whether or not he’s qualified, he’s the only one who can even remotely make things better for this kid. And so –

“There’s one thing we could do, but—” Seokjin pauses, not wanting to give false blind hope to the couple. Outside the wind howls and batters the hut, and Seokjin could feel Namjoon radiating heat like a furnace beside him. “—but, it’s very risky. I’ll be honest, it’s going to be very dangerous but we can try an operation. It’s proven and tested by a doctor during the war—”

“Have you ever done it before?” Yeseo’s mother asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Seokjin admits, “But, if you agree to this, I will exhaust every resource in my possession to save your daughter. I swear it on the remnants of magic in my blood.”

Yoongi hasn’t believed in a god for so long.

His brothers think of it as something he just says, bitter old man down to his bones, they joke but, it’s not. How can it be when the world’s so cruel? Harsh and unforgiving. Whatever beauty the fates provide are just mere consolation to what it plans to take away.

He knows, because it’s taken too much from him too. Everything he got to keep he fought tooth and nail, and blood for. Never was it given or kept easily.

That’s why, even if the odds are stacked against them, he volunteers to help the sick kid’s father. As the village blacksmith and occasional craftsman, Yoongi absolutely refuses to build a child-sized coffin.

So, no, Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods, but as he tilts his head up and basks in the peeking rays of the winter sun – maybe, just maybe, he believes in luck.

Just after Seokjin’s suggestion, Namjoon immediately gathered his brothers for this mission: gathering as many percyberries as they can for the operation. The winds were howling then, frigid and unforgiving and so the two other dragon bloods were chosen. It was almost a fight against Jungkook, but he understood that his pride and desire to prove himself once again will always take a backseat against the good of the many.

It only took a quarter of an hour for them to assemble all they need, most of the time going to Yeseo’s dad who refused to not be included in the team. And because he was the one who was sure about where his daughter got the berries, Namjoon agreed.

The moment they stepped out of the village gates, the winds calmed downed and the sun peeked – luck is more powerful than any preparations.

“Yoongi, maybe we should talk to him.” Hoseok jogs up to the blacksmith as he nods to the dryad descent ahead of them. Unlike them, he’s wrapped tight in heavy fur, warding off the chill.

Yoongi eyes the giant of a man and sees the stiffness in his shoulder and remembers how tight-lipped he was during the whole journey even at dinner when they ate around the campfire Hoseok set up. “I don’t think he wants to talk, Hoseok.”

Hoseok, never one for silence and not acknowledging other people’s suffering, sighs. It’s not like he knows what to say either, but shouldn’t he at least offer hope? He opens his mouth to protest before being cut off by a wild gust of wind.

Yoongi once again tilt his face up to the sky, seeing it darken quicker than he’s ever seen. It seems like their luck just ran out.

“It’s just a half-hour journey from here!” the dryad descent calls out, his voice wrapped in desperation and fear. They all knew that the percyberries will not survive this type of blizzard – if it had survived the first steps of winter, that is. “We can make it if we run!”

Hoseok nods and runs ahead, and Yoongi once again, curses the non-existing gods.

Winter, has always been a challenge for you.

It’s not that you hate it, not really. Winter, after all, is an integral part to the cycle of life. Although heavily associated to death – spring, being rebirth – it is also rest. It is when everything slows down, when animals hibernate and recharge. If anything, it’s nature at its recovery.

Winter is also very beautiful. The way intricate snowflakes fall to the ground, covering the weary soil with a blanket of white. Or the way it gathers on top of trees and how the cold creates frost on window sills and fog around your breath.

You don’t hate winter, not at all.

It’s just so fucking cold.

Shivering, you trudge through the snow covered ground, you wince under your robe at how the cold penetrates your boots. Even with a heated robe, everything still feels cold down to your bones. Without even consulting the stars, you already know that it’s gonna be less of those picturesque winters you’ve had the past few years and more of a whole ordeal that you just need to survive.

And to survive, you need your supplies.

Turning just around the river bend, you let a small smile tug your lips at the sight of the bubbling river. It’s not a big river by any measure, but never in history has it frozen, allowing people – magical or otherwise – to survive on the fish that inhabits it during lean months.

It’s littered by giant rocks of all colors, some see through while the others reflect its surroundings. In spring, it reflects all the colors of the forest it hides in – all the reds, oranges, purples and greens of the flowers and trees, - making the river look as magical as the stories used to go.

Your mother used to tell you that it’s where mermaids and mermans sunbathe with their colorful tails and beautiful faces and wait for their human lovers and half-human children. You remember smiling giddy at the thought while your grandmother pulls you aside and tells you too how the pearls under the river were tears of said mermaids and mermans who were betrayed and killed by their lovers, simply because they were too beautiful – and no creature that beautiful ever remains loyal or so the mad men used to say.

Your grandmother always did know how to douse you with a cold bucket of water – literally and otherwise.

After a hop and a skip, and nearly slipping on one of the smooth rocks, you approach the nearly barren riverbank. Waving a hand, the illusion wavers like disturbed water and reveals several vibrant percyberry bushes. Under the cool light of winter, the orange berries shine like marbles.

Normally, you wouldn’t grow spring bushes in winter time. It’s one of the ways you’ve gone undetected for years but after the incident last month, your supplies have dwindled down to a measly two jars of the berries. You eye the healthy shrubs, eyebrows knitting together at the bald spot on one of the shrubs. Perhaps you should practice your growing spells more often.

Shrugging, you get to work. As you pick the berries with nimble hands, you wonder of the man you sheltered for a month.

He was handsome, perhaps younger than you by a few years. It was luck that you came across him at the edge of the forest. You rarely step out of it during busy seasons, when hunters are at their most abundant and busy. You’ve used almost all of your percyberry stocks on his wounds and as a tranquilizer to keep him sedated and unconscious for most of the month he was with you.

Handsome as he was, it wouldn’t do good for anyone to know where you are.

Distantly, you hear the whistle of the wind before a sharp gust threatened to knock you over the bushes. To your surprise, it was followed by sounds of huffing breath and heavy breathing.

Shit. Who in their right minds are out this far in the middle of winter?

Quickly, you scramble to pick the last of the percyberries and placed them in your basket before turning away. You pause and debate to whether or not to cast the illusion back but the crunch and slosh sounds against the wet earth had you murmuring a different spell before turning away.

Crossing the river is not an option. It’s too wide and too open, there’s no way to hide unless underwater and you don’t fancy being frozen to death.

Eyes darting around, your eyes catch a small cave hidden in the shadows of the bare winter trees. Quickly, you murmur a notice-me-not spell and watch as your footprints disappear as you run into the cave. You make your body as small as possible, your knees tucked to your chest and your hood wrapped around your body – finally, you murmur another spell as you disappear from sight.

From your position, you could see a group of three men appear by the bend. The first one is an older man, with stubble as white as snow and deep brown eyes. He breathes heavily as he trudges through the snow, seemingly looking for something or someone. His eyes catches your percyberry shrubs, and the anguish that takes over his face almost had your magic wavering.

The man’s knees hit the cold ground as despair breaks out of him in the form of a choked sob. The shrubs are empty, bare of leaves and fruits, and covered in snow. To hide your trace, your spell took away all it life energy and shrouded it with snow as similar as its surroundings.

From behind him, two thinly-clothed younger males approach cautiously. The taller one approached the older man with sympathy in his amber eyes, his eyes trained on the very same bushes. Even from the distance, you could tell that he’s not purely human.

You could always tell.

Knowing that, you double your energy into strengthening your spell and added one that will help you hear them from a far. By now, the winds are howling, beckoning a storm to come. The third man of the group is shorter than both of the first two men, but with eyes sharp and trained on the forest shadows.

For a moment, he pauses looking straight at you.

A few heartbeats pass before a huge gust of wind blows once again. You know he can’t see you, but you still hold your magic close to you, murmuring another set of spell to divert his attention.

“Yoongi, we need to go!” the taller man calls, and the man named Yoongi turns away from you and nearer to the sobbing man on the forest floor.

“No, no, no! There has got to be more shrubs here!”

The shorter man – Yoongi – bites his cheek and runs over to the other two. His brows are furrowed, and his jaw clenched tight as if readying to strike a blow. “There’s none. You and I both know that—”

Desperately, the dryad descent chokes and shoves the younger men off him. “Then let me die here.” How can he possibly face his wife, his daughter – his darling, precious daughter – his soon-to-be dead daughter—

Yoongi grabs the man by the neckline of his coat, dragging him up to his knees with his eyes looking straight into his. “You’re an idiot and a coward if for a second you’d think we’d agree to that,” the dragon descent lets out a puff of fire, watching it sizzle and disintegrate into the cold, “You plan to die ahead of your family to avoid suffering? Go ahead. But don’t do it while we’re around.”

The bitter words echo in your bones. The dread of realization dawning unto you – the empty spot in one of the bushes… but how? Who?

With that, Yoongi releases the older male and nods to Hoseok. “We have to find shelter. The blizzard’s coming, send word ahead to Seokjin – tell him to see what he could scavenge from the old greenhouse.”

Pausing, the blacksmith turns to the lost dryad who’s still staring at the bushes blankly. This is what he hates about hope. How easily it’s snuffed out by things out of your control, but perhaps living with his brothers has got Yoongi soft and so he offers this;

“It’s not over yet.”

After sitting out the blizzard in one of the old dens they found in the map, the three of them travel by foot until nightfall. It’s only a half-day’s away from their home, and Seokjin has already sent word via a messenger bird that they’ve gathered barely enough percyberries to continue with the operation.

That means there’s going to be an operation, yes.

And absolutely no room for errors.

Hoseok definitely doesn’t envy Seokjin right now. Across him, Yeseo’s father sleeps, as close to the campfire as he could without being burned. The ground is not comfortable, but it’s the best they could do at the moment.

“Did you see what I saw earlier?” Hoseok asks as he looks straight ahead into the fire he built. Beside him, Yoongi shifts and bends one leg to his chest, his back resting against the tree.

“Depends on what you saw.” The blacksmith replies, his eyes closed. Being a dragon descent has its advantages, like getting to control your body temperature if you try hard enough.

“You know what I mean.” The younger male sighs, not in a mood for a back and forth guessing game. “The ground beneath the shrubs, it wasn’t frozen.”

Hoseok almost missed it, too busy comforting the sobbing man earlier that day. But as he knelt beside the grieving father, he saw fresh earth peeking underneath the snow covering the shrubs. One sniff and he knew that the dirt was healthy and new, smelling so much like spring. It didn’t make sense because the shrubs were devoid of life, shriveled and breaking off into pieces as the snow covered them.

“It wasn’t.” Yoongi agrees, his eyes opening, lids heavy with contemplation. He remembers seeing the same thing and feeling the odd heaviness of someone watching them the whole time. It’s not the first time somebody slipped under their radar, but every time it happens, it’s always a bad sign.

“I sent a separate missive to Namjoon. With winter being as harsh at is right now, we won’t have any time to investigate, best be prepared for the worst.” Hoseok says, and Yoongi’s reminded why he was chosen to lead the security for their village.

Despite Hoseok’s fun and flighty image, he’s unparalleled when it comes to tactics and maneuvers. His dragon encouraging him to protect his family and those close to them as much as he can.

Above them, the sky is dark and there are no stars in sight.

“You okay, hyung?” Jimin asks as he passes yet another polished glass to the older male. A glance at Seokjin could tell how exhausted the young man is. The moment the letter arrived from Hoseok, Seokjin and Jimin had gone out to the old greenhouse to scavenge percyberries.

What they found barely filled up a whole fruit bowl, most of them still small and barely containing the elements needed for the antidote mixture. But they have to work with what they have. And what they have is Seokjin, an old book and very limited resources.

Seokjin looks up from his notes and offers Jimin a tight smile. “I’d say I am but then I’d be lying.” There are bags under his eyes, and his skin has turned pale from the continuous sleepless nights he had either taking care of Yeseo or researching on the procedure that might potentially save her life. The procedure that will be taking place in less than an hour.

Yeseo’s been transferred to the backroom, which in turn was turned into a de facto operating room with boiling water prepared at one corner, courtesy of Namjoon, and towels and cloths at another. The mixture is bubbling in three of the cauldrons, and in the middle of the room is a tall bed, perfect for Seokjin’s height, illuminated by several candles.

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s head pops out from behind the door, “We just gave Yeseo the sedative. Are we ready?”

Seokjin stands and pulls out several basins, “As much as we could be.”

When Seokjin enters the backroom, he sees Yeseo’s parents huddled against the wall at the end of the bed where their only daughter lies. Her father hasn’t changed from his travelling clothes and there’s a telltale streak of tears dried on his face, similar to the fresh rivers flowing from his wife’s eyes. Seokjin looks at Jungkook and nods towards the couple. Instantly, Jungkook ushers them to sit down a distance away from their child, just so Seokjin has enough room to work.

The lack of percyberries that resulted from their escapade really hurt the plan. When Seokjin calculated just how many cauldrons he’d need, he came up with six and yet what they have is only three – or two and a half, if he’s being completely honest. Barely enough to clear out the toxins in the child’s digestive organs, let alone from her lungs and even her heart.

But, Seokjin found a similar technique from a different book that allows limited volumes of mixtures to be stretched when resources are scarce. It highly depends on control, something Seokjin has practiced for years. He used to shake at the thought of blood, but now, it’s only seen as something that needs to be done.

Behind him, Jimin enters with a basin of hot water where sharp tools are submerged to ensure cleanliness. He places it on one of the lower tables beside Yeseo and then stands still beside Seokjin, waiting for instructions.

The sedative should last for two hours, Seokjin calculates. That’s enough time to ensure that the child will not feel pain as he creates incisions and pulls out the poison directly from her organs. They don’t have time to waste.

“Jimin, give me the knife.”

With steady hands, Jimin hands him a small knife and watches as Seokjin creates a deep cut underneath Yeseo’s fourth rib. Blood oozes out and the smell penetrates the room. Quickly, Seokjin holds the wound close with one of the towels before gesturing Jimin to take over and hold the pressure. Seokjin then repeats it on Yeseo’s left side second rib.

Reaching over one of the basins filled with the antidote mixture, Seokjin focuses his deep seated magic over the water mixture. His palm is stretched wide over the basin, just a few inches above it. Slowly but surely, the water dances up to his palm, almost like it’s magnetized, wrapping itself around his fingers up until the basin empties.

Eyes wide with wonder, Jungkook and Jimin watch as their hyung breaks out a sweat injecting the antidote mixture into the incision he made on Yeseo’s left side. Yeseo’s small body begins to trash at the invasive procedure, much to her parents’ concern. Her limbs begin to rattle, shaking the table with its intensity.

“Jungkook! Hold her down! Go!”

As the wind howls outside, Jungkook quickly uses his strength and holds Yeseo’s arms down with his forearm, while his other hand cradles her small head. “I got her, I got her.”

“Okay, don’t let go.” Seokjin instructs and injects more of the mixture into her body. He closes his eyes, visualizing where he wills the antidote to go. As it passes through her lungs, he sees how the mixture strips the organ of the poison and how it traps it within itself. Confident with his control, Seokjin reaches over Yeseo’s right side and draws the mixture out through the incision under her right rib.

He hears a soft gasp from the side of the room, as the mixture is suspended in mid-air, heavy with black goo. Eyes alight at the prospect of success, Seokjin turns to Jimin with renewed vigor.

“Pass me one of the basins, quick!”

Slowly, Seokjin releases his hold of the floating glob and it sloshes around the basin before settling. The goo settles at the bottom of the basin, looking every bit of malignant and terrifying in its quiet. This, this is what torments the young child on Seokjin table.

For a moment, Seokjin sees his reflection looking back at him from the surface of the poison he extracted. His eyes, though tired, are alight with hope and adrenaline.

With the possibility of doing something right.

But, then again, what is will against facts?

It is on hour three when things start to fall apart.

Seokjin’s hands are numb and his reserves are scraped raw. They were never deep to begin with, what with his lack of practice in the magical side of his heritage, but he’d thought he’d have at least enough. The last of the cauldrons lie beside him, tipped over with no remaining drop of the antidote inside and the wastes on the bins are just barely transparent.

There’s still so much left inside this girl’s tiny body, and Seokjin has nothing left to give.

Pulling the last of the mixture out of the incision on Yeseo’s side, Seokjin drops it unceremoniously on one of the remaining basins, his magic snuffed out.

“Is that all?” Yeseo’s mother whispers, her eyes trained on the basins filled with black goo. Seokjin lets out a shuddering breath, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes.

“It’s all we have.”

After hours of debating, and pushing against the harsh gales of the winter wind, the village gates peek around the dirt road. Large and imposing, it’s a sign of a stable settlement of perhaps a few generations.

To you, it’s a sign of danger.

When the men left, you rushed back to your little cabin and summoned your looking glass with urgency. And because nature is the witness of all things past, present and future, you squeezed one of the percyberries onto the river water and enticed it to show what it saw.

It showed you a little girl, accompanied with her parents. It showed you their curving eyes and mouths, smiling and joyous and loving the prospect of their new home. In her parents’ excitement, the child is left alone and trips over your bushes.

Children, with their open hearts and boundless imaginations, often trip into magic accidentally, no questions asked.

You saw how your illusion melted before her, her eyes rounding at the beautiful ripe berries. You saw how she picked handfuls of the berries, shoving it into her pockets and when that filled out, you saw her open a pouch and fill that too.

To your horror, you saw her eat one. Then another. And another.

And so you’ve come. Armed with your magic, shedding away the anonymity and safety that your distance afforded you through the years. Although fearful and wary, to you, it just comes down to two things: it was your mistake and it is a child.

Eyeing the guard posts by the gates, you take a deep breath and with tired limbs and wary eyes, you drop off the notice-me-not charm, pull of your hood and step inside the village gates.

Notes: Aaaand! Enter Y/N! Feedback is much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! So so far, here are the facts: - Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok are of dragon-descent - Jungkook is of werewolf descent - Jin is of fae descent - Jimin is ??? - Taehyung is ???

54 notes · View notes

esbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Distance

Part 6.

I could feel my control over Red starting to slip. I was tired of being so close to him and not really being with him. I was angry at whoever was behind all of this and more than anything I wanted things to be back to normal. But something told me that wasn’t going to happen. Red was ready to take over and finish this with tooth and claw, and I was just about ready to let her.

Eilene’s pov

It had been weeks since the night they got their memories back from Alyssa and since Lilith came up with a potion to protect us all from having our memories messed with in the future. There was a small part of me that hoped that this potion would help restore Hamish’s memory of us, but it didn’t. Alyssa and I had brought them up to speed about everything going on. I told them about what I had found out from being away and about the bonds. Randall was thrilled with this “So basically we have internal walkies talkies with each other!” he said excitedly. “Yeah kinda, while you were all still memory wiped I started practicing. I was able to reach all of you although you probably didn’t realize it at the time.” I replied. This caught everyone’s attention and Lilith said “That was you in the Library!” “Guilty.” I replied. I showed each of them how to feel for and use the bonds. It was easy for Randall, Lilith it took a few tries but she finally got it. Jack took to it pretty easily as well and then he and Alyssa got a text that said “Temple NOW.” from the Grand Magus and left.

That left Hamish and I in the living room as Randall and Lilith took off to their bedrooms. He seemed nervous to be alone with me and then said “how about a drink, I promise I wont bite, unless you want me to.” He was smiling and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hamish’s pov

- My god her laugh - he thought and then shook his head to concentrate. After they had taken sips of the drink he made, she went on to explain the bonds and how to use them. He focused his breathing and thought of her. But nothing happened. He huffed and took another drink while he sat down at one of the bar stools, which she noticed. Hamish couldn’t help but look at her deep green eyes and think about his dream. He had to look away, none of this made sense and then Tundra started shifting under his skin again. Hamish could tell that Tundra wanted to be near her, to touch her and protect her. But he still couldn’t figure out why. It was just Eilene after all. Eliene saw his pause and looked concerned. She walked up to him and placed and hand on his shoulder. “Just close your eyes, take a deep breath in and then out. Now think of me. See me in your mind and the bond will do the rest.” said. He did just as she instructed and just then his dream came back to him. She gasped at the images he was sending to her through the bond and in return he just felt hope and warmth. He pulled her toward him and rested his forehead against hers. Breathing her in like he hadn't seen her in months, like he missed her. Both of their wolves were scratching at the surface and their breathing had gone heavy when both of their phones went off breaking the moment entirely. She stepped away from him to fish her’s out of her back pocket while he grabbed his as well. They both had gotten the same text, “Temple NOW.” From the Grand Magus herself.

Eilene’s pov

They both arrived to the temple and were given various assignments. The Order was under attack yet again. Even though Hamish seemed to be aware of their connection, I couldn’t help but notice the strange pull he had to Vera Stone. I would be lying if is said it didn’t bother me. It set my wolf on edge even more so. Hamish was ours. There was a small part of me that thought maybe this was for the best, maybe this would gave him a second chance at being with someone who wasn’t a werewolf, someone he wouldn’t loose like he had Cassie. But Red said a resounding “No!” I had to stop having thoughts like that or I was going to lose what control I had left.

I had already been filled in on the magic heist, which for the record I thought was a bad idea and also why the others had left me out of it. When we arrived at the temple we all understood why. Everyone was on edge and The Grand Magus was telling us about how an emperor Demon Rogwan was going to break through to this realm and destroy us all. I then heard Hamish mutter something about Vera, being smart for not mentioning that the reliquary had been emptied - By us - I thought. Then Randall piped up next to him and asked “Dude are you hot for teacher?” Hamish blushed a bit and then looked over at me “I just admire good leadership.” he said and then looked away. That was a lie.

After a bit of initial panic we all came up with a patchwork plan that involved summoning Rogwan early to surprise him and hold him, while Jack and Lilith tried to find the sickles that the Demon Zecchia had stolen for them and then stolen from them. Hamish, Randall and I would stay at the temple to do our best to keep everyone safe. This meant I had to finally explain to Vera what I was and to some degree who I was. There was no way I could trust her but I needed her to trust me, just enough to get closer to her. “Wonderful, we have more werewolf muscle in case things get out of hand, which they most likely will. Rogwan is a demon who eats your fear, which makes you reckless and completely removes any self preservation you may have. We will all need to be careful. if you mutts hadn’t stolen my reliquary to begin with this wouldn't be an issue.” she said. Something about her tone made Red Snap. I could feel her move up to my eyes and that they were glowing bright yellow, when I took a step toward her. This caught her attention as well as Hamish’s, since he took a step toward me. Randall hung back behind us ready to jump in if he was needed. I looked Vera Stone straight in the eyes and said. “Regardless of the mistakes that have been made, if anything and I mean anything happens to these “mutts” I will personally hold you responsible.” I could see her square her shoulders as I continued “And there is nothing in this realm or any other that will keep me from you.” Hamish reached a hand out to touch my arm and the whole room felt tense waiting for the Grand Magus to respond. She looked at me with what almost looked like respect when she nodded and said “Understood. First let’s live through the day and then we can discuss your issue with authority Ms. Danvers.” With that settled we prepared for the worst.

Of course, our plan fell apart at the seams. Rogwan seemed particularly fond of the fear of werewolves and had already gotten to Hamish and Randall. Jack and Lilith had had zero luck getting the Sickles back nor could they remember where the stolen reliquary was. Alyssa was also down for the count and was working with the Grand Magus on one last plan. At some point in the chaos I remembered that I had found a random chest that seemed to have nothing but an assortment of information in it and a book on the demon realm. It also had some kind of spear in it that if I remembered correctly could hurt demons. It was a long shot but I had to give it a try before anyone else lost their fear. I had to get back to the den, get the book, the spear and make it back to the Temple before Vera set off a magical bomb.

Hamish’s pov

Having no fear didn’t seem all that bad, especially when you were a werewolf that could heal. It was like being immortal. Randall and I had to get the others to Rogwan so that he could take their fear to! Jack and Lilith were already headed back to the temple when he and Randall had arrived. It seemed as though Rogwan had saved some of the other members of the order as well since they were all hanging around and doing all kinds of fun things. A few of them were even trying to learn hand to hand combat with a knife that looked a lot like the one he had been stabbed with a while ago and another huge knife that reminded him of Crocodile Dundee. As he passed bybthem he said “Now that’s a knife.” in his best Australian accent. They just nodded and kept trying to stab each other. Just then Vera Stone walked passed him with Alyssa Drake behind her. They were headed to one of the more private temples toward the back. - I should say something to Vera - he thought, but she was already out of sight. Shortly after Eilene came in, she looked like she was on a mission, she had some things in her arms and her eyes were still a bright golden hue - God she’s beautiful, I should make love to her right now - He thought. But before he could get to her the two acolytes playing with knives saw her and stepped in front of her. “Hey, I’m no longer afraid of werewolves, watch this.” and as he finished speaking he stabbed her.

Watching the knife slide into her stomach. Seeing the mix of surprise and pain on her face caused something in him to break completely. The sound that came from him seemed to be a combination of both him and Tundra “Noooooo.” It was more of a growl than actual words. He was on his way toward her when she dropped what she was holding, gripped the boys shirt and tossed him across the room. The only problem with this was that she threw him into Hamish and they both fell to the ground. Hamish was pushing the kid off him when he noticed the knife he had used to stab HIS Eilene with WAS same knife that was deadly to werewolves. The same knife that had stabbed him. She wouldn’t have long if she kept fighting these fearless acolytes and if he didn’t get her to the Grand Magus soon.

Part 7. coming soon!

#hamish duke #randall carpio #lilith bathory #jack morton #alyssa drake #vera stone #the order

24 notes · View notes

comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 75: Let’s Get This Show on the Road

Presenting the next installment of my on-going, nextgen, MHA fic! Earlier chapters can be found here

Some are mine, but a decent chunk of the 1-C kids in this chapter were created by tumblr user and number one fic fan on tumblr @uninvited-eon

“Okay everyone, gather ‘round!” Itsuka Tetsutetsu called out to her class. Around the common room, the sixteen students of Class 1-C began to gather, some listlessly, some begrudgingly, but none of them eagerly. Her heart ached for them.

Whereas Aizawa and Super-Ball’s classes had passed their Final Exam… her class had failed.

She felt a strong measure of guilt over that. They were only the second group of students she’d shepherded through U.A. and she could not help but feel like she’d failed them somehow. Had she not trained them well enough? Had she not stressed the need for teamwork and cooperation, of thinking things through? They’d all done well in their Heroics Class and two of them had even made it to the Tournament round of the Sports Festival. And yet, when it had come down to it, victory had slipped from their grasp. Aizawa and Fujii had both told her she wasn’t to blame, as had her husband, but she still felt the sting of failure. She’d already vowed to do better by her kids. She’d already been working on new ideas for the next term.

“Yes, Sensei?” Yoru Kan, tall, buff, and pale, asked from her spot on one of the couches. It was strange to think her old teacher had a daughter the same age as Itsuka’s own child, but such was life sometimes.

“I know you’re all upset about not getting to go to the Training Camp with the other classes,” Itsuka said.

Ichigo Minoru, the lion-like Class Representative, growled. “We should have done better.”

This earned him a glare from the pink-haired Momoko Hohki, who blew a gum-bubble generated by her Quirk, popping it noisily. “You want to say that again, Fuzzball?” The two had never really gotten along. Hohki had… issues with authority.

“I’m just saying we could have done better,” Minoru said. He held up furry hands. She knew he bore the loss heavily as well, taking it quite personally. He was brave and selfless, but he had to be wondering if his leadership skills hadn’t been up to snuff. “That’s all.”

“I think we all know who screwed up,” Kan said gruffly, crossing her arms.

Ayahiko Akiyama pushed his glasses up, the red frames standing out against skin that was even paler than Kan’s. “Well, it sure wasn’t me.” His color-manipulating Quirk had been useful during the exam, unleashing wildly shifting color patterns to disorient some of their foes, but the lack of responsibility was typical too. She and the other teachers hadn’t been able to get him to step up just yet. They were giving it time, but he’d either shape up for ship out.

“Like hell it wasn’t,” Reiki Akamatsu snapped, the green quills along her head bristling. “You and Enoshima both! Throwing up your damn light shows so we couldn’t see!”

Hitomi Enoshima, whose Kaleidoscope Vision Quirk made looking her in the eyes dangerous, took offense with that. “I told you to get out of the way! Not my fault you didn’t listen!”

“Shouting “get out of the way, losers!” doesn’t count as telling people to get out of the way,” Kin Shiji snapped. The parts of his face that weren’t patches of metallic gold were flush with irritation.

“Can we… can we not fight?” Shika Mizuno asked. The antlered girl bowed her head and closed her eyes. She was gentle and soft-spoken, reminding Itsuka very much of her friend and former classmate Komori. Trying to play peacemaker when the more outspoken members of the class fought was common for her.

Unfortunately, Mizuno’s words did little to quell the arguments brewing. Sides were taken, insults shouted, and things started getting loud very quickly.

Employing her Quirk, Itsuka enlarged her hands and brought them together in a singular clap that resonated throughout the room. It left some of the Class holding their ears, especially the lion-like Minoru and the bear-like Tsukiko Kuma. But it did its job and silenced them all for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” she said, reducing the size of her hands back to normal. “But I could tell that was going to get ugly. And fighting amongst yourselves is part of why you failed the exam.” There had been so much arguing, so many strong-willed hot heads in her class determined to do things their own way. They’d gotten in each other’s way during the exam, hadn’t coordinated properly, and ultimately the faux-Villains had gotten away with their target.

“You’ve got potential,” she said. “I believe in you. But there’s a lot we need to work on. Which is why, while the other Hero classes are at their Training Camp, we’re going to be having one here at the USJ. Water Spout, Doc Clock, and I will be putting you through your paces from pretty much sunup to sundown, with a particular focus on teamwork and collaboration.”

She frowned. “Failing your exam is a big deal. But it’s one you can come back from, with hard work. I believe in all of you. Which is why I also arranged for some extra help with your additional training.”

At that, the doors burst open. “Woooo! Who’s ready for some training?!”

Itsuka pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tetsu, I told you to wait outside until I texted you.”

Her husband blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, ‘suka. Got done dropping Kana off and got bored… figured you’d be ready by now.”

It was going to be a long two weeks.

***

Nearly all of Class 1-A and Class 1-B had already assembled by the time Katsumi arrived. She’d been rather insisted that she and Dad not arrive together. It was going to be enough of a pain having him as one of her teachers, but she could live with that. This was a practical matter of asserting her own independence. And there was some small part of her that wanted to take in everyone’s reactions when they found out about him. Maybe she ought to get her phone ready. Depending on how people reacted, she could get a new ringtone out of it.

Izzy gave her a polite nod as she approached. “It is good to see you, Katsumi,” she said.

“Good to see you too, Iz,” she replied. Thoughts of her dad’s promise to push all of them hard ran though her mind. She’d spent years thinking of Izzy as fragile and in need of protection. Even if the last few months of U.A. had told her otherwise, her first instinct was always going to be to protect her friend. Even if she and Iz weren’t romantically compatible, she loved her still, as the most important person in her life. “All set for roughing it?”

Izzy closed her eyes and nodded. “I believe so,” she said. “My parents were concerned, of course, but ultimately convinced that I would be in good hands.”

Of course they were. Katsumi nearly rolled her eyes. Izzy’s parents were crazy protective sometimes. Nearly all the time, actually. She’d have thought they’d have learned by now. Best not to think about it, it would just make her angry.

“Any idea where they’re taking us?” she asked instead. Even without Villains after the Hero classes, U.A. had stopped publicizing the location of its Training Camps years ago. It was a lot safer that way. Not that she’d been able to get anything out of Dad. He’d cited “tradition” as being the reason he couldn’t tell her. She was also sure getting on her nerves was also one of the reasons.

Izzy shook her head. “I am afraid I have no idea. We shall just have to see.”

Katsumi just laughed. “Ah, well. Worth a shot.”

In the meantime, she could see the Class Representatives making the rounds, with Toshi and Tokyami talking to the members of their class, and Kana and Awase talking to theirs. She could see Aizawa too, off to the side and in consultation with 1-B’s teacher, Super-Ball. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but Aizawa was giving the rubber-bodied Hero a death glare and looking like he wanted to be absolutely anywhere else on the planet. Super-Ball was talking animatedly and occasionally elbowing Aizawa in the side. Given what she’d heard about Super-Ball, her sympathy was entirely with Aizawa.

“Five hundred yen says Aizawa wraps his head up to stop him from talking,” she said to Izzy.

Izzy shook her head again. “What is it you would say? “That’s a sucker’s bet?’”

Katsumi laughed again. “You are listening.” She doubted Izzy had ever seen that small an amount of money in her life anyway.

Around them, most of the class was in its usual friendship groups. She could see Shinso babbling to Haimawari, who was indulging the hyperactive, purple-haired kid, nodding occasionally at whatever he was going on about. Sero, Sato, and Ojiro were talking as always, probably discussing content for their damned web show. The Iida twins and the new girl with the wings, Kocho, were watching the discussion with something somewhere between amusement, fascination, and confusion. Mineta was talking to Koda, while Aoyama and Shoji stood a little bit apart from the rest of the class. One person she did notice was missing though. It wasn’t until she looked around until she noticed…

“Hey, Iz?” Katsumi asked.

“Yes?”

“Why the hell is Kaminari hanging out with Monoma?” Izzy was friends with the electric dumbass. There was a decent chance she’d known what was going on.

“I cannot say,” Izzy told her.

“But you know,” she pressed.

“Chihiro has asked that I not speak of it.”

“…What.”

***

“What?” Chihiro asked, as Monoma slipped the bracelet around her wrist. It had been made in the kumihimo style, she could tell, yellow with just a little bit of black in it, like her hair. She wasn’t sure they were at the gift-giving stage of… whatever it was exactly they were doing. They’d gone out once.

Which had been nice, she actually had to admit. Nothing fancy, just a walk and some ice cream, but he’d turned out to be surprisingly good company. When he wasn’t being a competitive asshole or didn’t have Kirishima-Bakugo around to rile him up, he could actually be a decent guy, and even pretty funny. He was smarter than her, that much was sure, and ridiculously well-read, but he didn’t lord it over her and listened when she talked, especially about music, he actually asked questions and wanted to know more. He’d been more encouraging during that walk that he’d been in the entirety of the time she’d known him before.

More vulnerable too. He’d been damn close to quitting before he’d talked to her. And then there was the way he talked about his classmates and how much potential he saw in all of them…

She was beginning to understand what Mika had seen in the guy. Granted, Mika’s type was “alive,” but she was actually beginning to see why Koda willingly associated with him.

They’d talked on the phone and texted more on top of that. She’d actually found herself looking forward to it. Chihiro was well aware she was no amazon with pneumatic boobs like Mika or Sora Iida, or even a girly fashionista like Ojiro. She was relatively plain, her curves barely there. She was fit, but hardly a paragon of physical fitness, and she was never going to be the smartest person on the planet. Even her Quirk wasn’t that impressive without lots of Support Gear.

Having someone actually interested in her, for who she was, when there were so many other better options available was still a surprise.

“It’s a gift,” Monoma said. “I made it myself.” He smiled, sheepishly. “I watch a lot of tutorials on Viewtube, so I can pick up other skills. You never know when it might come in handy. Besides, it’s more than that. It’s a promise.”

“A promise of what?” Chihiro cast a few nervous glances around. Someone—Ojiro probably—was probably already noticing she’d been talking with Monoma for a while now and speculating wildly. Several of Class 1-B were definitely already looking at her.

She wasn’t exactly as embarrassed by the thought of people finding out she was dating him as she’d have thought, but she’d kind of wanted to control the message. But he’d been so insistent on giving her the bracelet before the busses arrived…

“It’s an apology too, for my earlier behavior, but it is a promise,” Monoma said, “that I won’t kiss you again.” He leaned in close, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Until you kiss me first.” She was pretty sure she heard Fukidashi gasp.

Well, wasn’t that presumptuous of him? Why was he so pretty when he was being so arrogant? “Don’t,” she breathed, her Cords rising up reflexively, sparks dancing on the tips, “don’t you mean “unless?’”

He gave her one of those all too confident smiles, his eyes practically twinkling. “Giving up on us so soon?”

Chihiro flushed red and couldn’t find the words to respond to that.

***

Toshi looked down at the clipboard he was carrying, nodded, and looked over to Asuka. “That everybody?” he asked.

“It is,” Asuka told him, checking her own clipboard. Frog-Shadow was sitting on her shoulder, looking vaguely bored. “Everyone’s here, everyone’s luggage is accounted for, and the buses should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Good,” he said. Being Class Representative came with a lot of responsibilities, but his classmates made it easy. None of them put him through half has much as their parents’ class had put Uncle Tenya through. The worst he usually had to do was keep Katsumi from killing Mineta when the latter was being particularly aggravating or mediate a conflict between Aoyama and Sero. It helped that he’d known the majority of them for years and understood their eccentricities.

“Okay!” Toshi called out. “Everybody listen up!” It took a moment—Sero was being especially chatty—but eventually, everyone did quiet down, with Kaminari hurriedly joining the group at the end.

“Thank you,” Asuka told them. “Toshi and I both want you to know we expect all of you to be on your best behavior during the Training Camp. Aizawa-Sensei wishes for us to emphasize that there will be severe consequences for misbehavior.”

“He was really scary when he said it!” Frog-Shadow piped in.

“He was,” Toshi agreed, shuddering at the memory. “But I know you’re all mature, responsible individuals who can be counted on not to do anything stupid.”

“How’d you manage to say that right a straight face, Toshi?” Katsumi asked, arms crossed, grinning smugly.

“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “Now, any last questions?”

Mineta’s hand went up.

“That aren’t about fraternization during the camp?”

Mineta’s hand went down. Toshi breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned around and looked over to where Aizawa and Super-Ball were. “All set,” he called out. He heard Kana Tetsutetsu do the same.

The two teachers walked over so they were standing in front of the two classes. “Thanks, Class Reps!” Super-Ball said, grinning broadly. He spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “Is everybody ready for a summer of fun?!”

Silence greeted him.

“That’s right!” 1-B’s teacher went on, as though they’d responded. “Well that’s too bad, because Aizawa canceled all the fun. Your friendly neighborhood bouncing ball tried to talk him out of it, but well, you try arguing with that face. C’mon, make the face, Aizawa.”

Aizawa’s expression did not change.

“Yeah,” Super-Ball said. “That’s the one. Seriously, though, you guys are gonna work really hard. But I know you can do it, and you’re gonna be better for it! And we’ve got one extra surprise for you. You want to take this one, Aizawa?”

“Right,” Aizawa said flatly. “In addition to Fujii and myself, your new Heroics teacher will also be accompanying us.”

A dozen plus conversations broke out among the two classes, as they began to speculate who that might be. Toshi had known that with Grandpa Might becoming the new principal, they were looking to fill the slot, but he hadn’t known for sure that anyone had accepted the job. The weird thing was, neither Katsumi nor Shota seemed surprised by the news.

“Who is it?” Rika Bondo, the blue slime girl from 1-B, asked.

“That’s be me.”

“Uncle Kachan?!” Toshi stammered out. Uncle Kachan had appeared almost out of nowhere, no less stealthy for his recent injury. He was dressed comfortable, in civilian clothes, but still looked ready to take on any challenge that might come his way. There was the slightest of limps to his step, but you had to be really looking to notice it.

But never, in a million years, would he have thought he’d be their new teacher!

Someone had let out a girlish shriek. “Oh, man, Monoma!” Anime Fukidashi giggled. “You should have seen the look on your face!”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, we’re all going to die,” Sero wailed. He’d gone a distinctly paler shade of pink.

“Well,” Toshi heard Izumi say, “this is unexpected.”

“This is… wow…” Haimawari trailed off.

“Guys? Seriously? I think Monoma’s broke. He hasn’t moved for, like, a minute.” Fukidashi’s voice carried over all the others. “Tetsutetsu, maybe you want to smack him?”

“I’m fine, dammit!” Monoma snapped. All eyes were instantly on him. He gulped nervously. “My… apologies, Senseis.”

Uncle Kachan didn’t seem to care and Aizawa was as impassive as ever.

“Breathe, kid,” Super-Ball said. “He’s legally prohibited from killing you.” He winked. “But you’d be surprised what you can live through.”

Uncle Kachan looked over at Aizawa. “Is he always like this?”

Aizawa just sighed. “This is actually one of his more sedate days.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that, you sorry excuse for a hobo?!”

“If I have to suffer, so do you.”

“You two do know I can hear you, right?” Super-Ball asked, though he didn’t sound offended. “And so can they? The impressionable children?”

Uncle Kachan sighed, then turned his attention to them. “I’m not big on speeches. So I’m just letting you all know now, All Might was the good cop. I’m the bad cop. And I’m gonna work you all like you’ve never been worked before!”

Several of the students gasped. Toshi was pretty sure he saw Monoma look faint. Katsumi just grinned that grin she did before she punched someone.

Anything else was cut off as the automated buses arrived, one of which seemed a bit larger than the other, probably to accommodate Kentaro Fukui, the nearly three meters tall member of 1-B. “About time,” Aizawa said. “Get your luggage loaded and then get on the bus. Class 1-A in the first bus, Class 1-B in the second. We leave in ten, with or without you.”

***

It didn’t take long for the buses to get underway. Aizawa was seated in the front of the bus, Uncle Katsuki in the back. The various couples in the class were sitting together, as were the usual friends like Chihiro and Mineta and Isamu and Shota, while Asuka was sitting with their new classmate Kocho. Their odd numbers meant that Shoji was sitting alone, though he didn’t seem bothered by it. And, of course, Izumi was sitting with Katsumi.

Izumi turned to look at her friend. “So,” she said, “I am assuming you knew about this?”

Katsumi smirked at that. “Oh yeah. All Might offered him the job a couple of days after the break started. He thought about it for maybe a day tops before he said yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

That earned her another smirk from Katsumi. “You didn’t ask.”

A smile spread across Izumi’s face and a small giggle escaped her lips. “That is true,” she said. “I did not.”

“Besides,” Katsumi added, “he swore me to secrecy.”

Uncle Katsuki would certainly be a… different teacher than All Might, she was sure. But he was Japan’s Number Four Hero, with numerous Villain captures and cases solved behind him. The media often liked to paint him as a volatile brawler, but she knew there was far more to him than that.

Izumi nodded. “He has a wealth of experience to offer. I am sure he will take to the role readily.” More importantly, Izumi was glad to see that Uncle Katzuki was doing well and getting back to something approximating normal. With traumatic injuries like he had experienced, it took a truly exceptional individual to come back from them. But then again, her father often said that Uncle Katsuki had “more guts than sense.” She was reasonably certain that he had not meant it was a compliment—especially as her mother had swatted him for saying it—but guts were definitely required here.

“Yeah, well…” Katsumi trailed off. Her dear friend rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, and even here, it was only for the briefest of moments. “Beats having him mope around the house while he’s taking medical leave.”

Medical leave, not retirement. That was potentially promising sounding. “They are hopeful for a more functional prosthetic?” Katsumi had told her that her father’s Quirk made traditional prosthetics unwieldy for long term use, but that Doctor Shield and Mei Hatsume were working on a better one.

Katsumi shrugged. “Nothing yet. They really don’t know if he’ll ever…” Her voice started to crack, but she was fighting it. She so hated to show weakness in front of anyone, even her.

Izumi reached over and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. Katsumi returned the grip, mindful that Izumi was not as strong as she. No other words needed to be said. As always, they would have each other’s back.

“But yeah,” Katsumi went on, her tone shifting back to something more in line with her usual self, “in the meantime, he’s going to make everybody here’s life hell.” She looked around the bus. “Pretty sure Aoyama and Sero might die. Maybe Monoma too.” That caused her to snicker. “Did you see his face?”

“I did,” Izumi said, her tone carefully neutral. She did not wish to encourage Katsumi’s delight in the misfortunate of others, though that was probably a battle she would not win. But Uncle Katsuki would likely be an unrelenting taskmaster, and she knew she could expect no favors or special treatment due to her friendship with Katsumi or her own limitations.

Limitations she would not have were it not for her grandfather.

No. She could not dwell on that now. She had learned much, but she was still deciding what to do with that information. Izumi had not even mentioned her visit with her grandfather to her parents. Mercifully, Chihiro and Mineta had not pressed her for details, respecting her privacy. Soon, she hoped, when she had time to grapple with the reality of it, she would tell her friends. But for now, she needed to focus on getting stronger. She would need all her wits about her for the camp ahead.

***

“Anxious?” Asuka asked Kocho. Frog-Shadow was dozing on her lap. Long rides always had that effect on her familiar. She knew their new classmate was already friends with Toshi, Haimawari, Sero, Ojiro, and Sato, but as elected Vice-Representative and unofficial “Class Mom”, she too had a duty to reach out to her, so she’d volunteered to sit with her for the bus ride while the others paired off. Frog-Shadow had been upset that she wasn’t going to sit next to Shoji, but her other half had to learn that, even with their increased cooperation, she couldn’t always get what she wanted.

The moth-girl shook her head. “Yes,” she said. “Sorry, did I just contradict myself?” Her wings were folded around her as much as she could make them, taking up the majority of her seat.

“A bit,” Asuka told her. “But understandable. Are you comfortable? I don’t mind pulling up the arm rest.”

“I’m fine,” Kocho said. “Little close, but it doesn’t hurt. This is still nicer than taking the city bus.” She gave Asuka a reassuring smile.

Asuka flipped up the armrest anyway and Kocho let her wings spread out a small amount. “I won’t say your anxiety is unwarranted,” she said. The truth of others experiences and feelings was not open for debate. “But this is very standard for the Hero Courses. They find a few Heroes or a Hero team from outside the school, so that they can bring a fresh perspective to our training, and under our teachers’ guidance, push us to increase the strength and versatility of our Quirks and skills. It will be exhausting… but ultimately rewarding.”

She looked down at the sleeping frog on her lap. Nothing but peace and contentment flowed through their link. Asuka was determined to enjoy it while she could. It wouldn’t last long once Frog-Shadow was awake. “Though what exactly they can do with this little one, I’m not sure.”

Kocho chuckled at that. “Any idea who they got to teach this year’s then? Or is that one of those ‘rational deceptions’ Deku and Shinso were trying to warn me about?”

“They keep it a secret,” Asuka told her. “Though it’s not a rational deception in this case. It’s really more of just a U.A. tradition. They like keeping us on our toes.”

This got a nod. “Makes sense, I guess. Any idea what they were talking about then?”

Asuka could hazard a guess. “You probably don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “If they try to drop us off a cliff, you can fly.”

“You’re, you’re joking about that, right?” Kocho asked, dark eyes going wide. “Tell me you’re joking!”

“Not at all,” she replied. She put a finger to the side of her beak in thought. “I’m told it wasn’t a particularly big cliff, though.”

“I still can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Kocho replied.

“She doesn’t joke,” Frog-Shadow said sleepily, stirring on her lap. “She’s the most boring person alive! I’m the fun one in this relationship!”

Asuka looked down to glare at her living Quirk. “And here I was enjoying the peace and quiet.” She shook her head. “But I doubt there will be any surprises like that at this Training Camp.”

***

They’d been on the road for about three hours and the anxiety in the bus had practically become a palpable thing. They’d made two stops already for bathroom and snack breaks and Isamu was fairly certain most of his classmates were going to jump out of their skin every time. About the only people who weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop were Kocho, who didn’t know any better, and Shinso, who didn’t seem to see Aizawa in the same way as everyone else. Between their parents stories of school and their own experiences so far this year (Sending real—albeit reformed—Villains after them? What?), they were all rightfully paranoid.

Granted, his parents had known Aizawa too, even if they hadn’t been his students. They’d said he was gruff, but fair, and had actually been supportive of the work they’d done, despite them being Vigilantes. That somehow didn’t make him any less scary.

Throughout the trip, Shinso had kept up a steady stream of talk about Heroes and recent Hero events. Isamu had nodded along politely to a lot of it, occasionally adding to the conversation, but mostly letting the smaller boy talk. The two of them had gotten into a debate though, over whether Shoto or Gale Force was cooler, when Shinso had brought up a recent team-up the two of them had had.

Shinso had been rather insistent that Shoto was cooler, especially because of the fast way he could take down Villains without anyone being hurt. Isamu, on the other hand, had gone to the mat for Gale Force, liking the Hero’s larger than life personality and All Might level of cheer. It had been a friendly debate, though neither one of them was backing down from their position.

The two of them were sitting more towards the back of the bus. Occasionally, Shinso would look back to where Ground Zero was sitting, his arms crossed, and looking vaguely irritated, occasionally smiling a very familiar smile, as though enjoying some private joke. It was the same one Kirishima-Bakugo made before she punched something. The Number Four Hero was their new Heroics teacher? Ground Zero certainly had a reputation as having a hair trigger temper, but there was no denying that he was also really good at what he did. The look on his face suggested he was going to get far too much enjoyment out of putting them through their paces.

He’d survived Kirishima-Bakugo this long. How much worse could it be?

“Toshi! Toshi!” Shinso piped up. “You’ve gotta settle this! Who’s more awesome? Shoto or Gale Force?”

Midoriya was across the aisle from them, sitting with his girlfriend. Sora Iida was leaning against him, absorbed in some technical manual. Midoriya was definitely making progress. Not that long ago, that much prolonged physical contact would have had him shaking like a leaf.

Isamu was hoping to get some time with his girlfriend as well, this trip. Kana had loved the signed Godzillo statue he’d brought back for her from I-Island (He didn’t tell her he’d lost the first one) and they’d managed to see a marathon of his movies between his return and the leaving for the camp. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too busy wrangling her class that they couldn’t share a few moments of their limited downtime.

“Oh no,” Midoriya said quickly, “I’m not getting dragged into this. Besides, I’m a Lemillion guy.”

“Not one of the choices,” Isamu told him, chuckling. Leave it to Midoriya not to take sides.

“I stand by my statement,” Midoriya told him.

“Aw,” Shinso said, pouting, “you were supposed to agree with me!”

Midoriya just laughed. “Maybe next time, Shota.”

Before they could continue, the bus came to a stop. Isamu checked the time on his phone. They’d been traveling a while now; it had been a little over an hour since their last stop. They’d left the main roads behind after the second stop, taking back roads, until they’d pulled through a long stretch of wooded areas. He was pretty sure he’d seen more than a few security cameras mostly hidden in the trees.

He could see some kind of big building out the front of the bus window, and what looked like several smaller buildings spread across a well maintained lawn. Beyond them, he could see more woods and maybe a lake.

“Either of you recognize this place?” he asked Midoriya and Shinso. “Is it an Agency?”

“I don’t know,” Shinso admitted. “But it looks pretty cool! Whoever owns this place has to be awesome!”

Midoriya’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth making a small o before a grin broke out across his face. “Oh! So that’s who they got!”

“You’re not going to tell us, are you?” Isamu asked.

“Nope!” Midoriya said. Isamu hadn’t seen that mischievous a look in his eyes before. “Don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

***

Katsumi looked around as the classes and teachers disembarked. It was a big complex for sure. Not exactly roughing it, though the woods around the buildings might hold some surprises, and one of the buildings looked like fairly utilitarian barracks. It all looked vaguely familiar though. She’d never been here, at least, not that she could recall, but she was sure she’d seen it somewhere. Had Toshi shown her pictures? She wouldn’t have put it past him. Despite basically having Hero-stuff as the background radiation for his life, he still ate, drank, and slept it.

There were four Heroes waiting for them. One was a man with spikey, sandy blonde hair, wearing a black bodysuit that left his arms bare, with silver boots, shoulder pads, belt, and bracers. With him, there was a brown-haired woman in a pink costume that looked damn close to a princess dress decorated with darker pink hearts, who was even wearing a tiara. Them, she recognized, Ravenous and Lady Lumious. Ravenous had briefly been one of Papa’s sidekicks. He even looked a bit like Uncle Tetsu, though they weren’t related.

The other man was blond, tall, with a costume in dark blue, with red highlights, boots, and gloves, along with small, gold pipe-like structures on his arms.

Ah. So that’s who they got this year.

“Oh, shit,” she heard Monoma gasp. Katsumi resisted the urge to cackle. He was having a bad day for surprises.

“Why so down, little cousin?” the man in red and blue, the Hero called Boost Rush, Daichi Monoma, asked. He was a tall man, towering over his cousin.

“I am the average height for my age!” Monoma snapped back. “You could have at least told me you were going to be here!”

“And spoil the surprise?” Boost Rush asked. He had the same arrogant, Monoma sneer all of them seemed to master. Katsumi had to fight the urge to laugh again. Monoma’s misfortunes were always funny. On the other hand, he hadn’t actually bothered her in months, no since his failed confession, so she could at least make an effort not to laugh at him when he could hear.

Katsumi’s eyes fell on the last of the four, a woman with light brown hair, who wore a costume in black, green, and orange. There was more than a passing resemblance to Dad’s costume. Her light brown hair was done up in twintails. She had her arms crossed and was smirking. It was an expression very similar to the one Katsumi and her dad often wore.

Katsumi, at the front of the group of students, gave her a smirk right back. “They must be getting pretty desperate to turn to you, Old Lady.”

The woman’s expression instantly shifted to rage. She pointed a finger at Katsumi. “Still got a mouth on you, don’t you, Brat? Well, we’ve got two weeks to beat it out of you.”

“You could try,” Katsumi shot back. “Won’t you have to go to bed too early for that though?”

“Show some respect for your elders!”

“So you admit you’re old?” By now, several of her classmates and 1-B students were staring at her in open surprise. Some, like Sero and Kaminari, had taken several steps back and away from her. Toshi just looked mortified, while Aizawa was burying his head in his hands. Even Lady Luminous and Ravenous looked vaguely puzzled.

“And so it begins,” Dad growled. “Ladies, can we wrap this up?”

“I will when she takes that back.”

Dad just sighed. “Mahoro, you and I both know that’s never going to happen. Can we just get on with it?”

Mahoro Shimano, also known as Vanish Veil, just grinned, but gave Katsumi a look. “This isn’t over, Brat.”

Katsumi smirked right back. “Bring it, Old Lady.”

Aizawa cleared his throat. “If we’re all done?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “As some of you have figured out, this facility and the surrounding wilderness is a training facility used by the Rookies, a loose configuration of Pro-Heroes and Sidekicks, many of whom attended U.A. together, and of which Water Spout and Doc Clock are also members. They’ve got a varied skillset and are also some of the best trainers in the country; Agencies frequently send their new Sidekicks to them for additional instruction. You will listen to them, you will follow their instruction, and you will not fight with them, no matter your previous or personal relationships with them.” He gave Katsumi and Monoma an extra-long glare.

“Now…” Aizawa went on.

He didn’t get to finish. “U.A. Hero students… think you’re pretty high and mighty, don’t you?” a voice, a girl’s voice, broke in. Whoever it was, they weren’t one of the Rookies. There were five of them, she realized, coming out of the building. Katsumi instantly tensed for a fight, wishing she had the gauntlets from her costume.

The seeming leader of the group took a step forward. She was large, and powerfully built. “We’ll show you all how weak you really are.”

#itsuka kendo #shouta aizawa #toshi midoriya #isamu haimawari #katsumi kirishima-bakugo #izumi todoroki #chihiro kaminari #shiro monoma #fan fiction #fan fic #my hero academia #their hero academia #my writing

3 notes · View notes

kurowrites · 5 years ago

Text

Letters from Beyond

So, here we have the second part of that fic. The one in which Jin Guangshan get murdered. So unfortunate.

---

The death of Jin Guangshan had long-lasting consequences. It didn’t simply end with the establishment of the Yiling Patriarch at Burial Grounds – the political balance between the sects had now shifted.

Some of the ongoing developments, especially as far as it concerned the Qinshan Wen sect, were difficult to ascertain. They had seemed to withdraw after murder of Jin Guangshan, Wen Chao all but vanishing from sight, but as of yet, no one knew where it would eventually lead to. What was clear to the few individuals that knew about the Yin Iron, it was that Wei Wuxian hadn’t handed the Iron over to the Qishan Wen. As long as the barrier around Burial Grounds was up, the Yin Iron was in the possession of the Yiling Patriarch.

It disquieted Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian, a man of uncertain morals and allegiance, was all that stood between Wen Ruohan and the Yin Iron.

The largest and most obvious change, however, was that Jin Zixuan became Jin Guangshan’s successor and new leader of the Lanling Jin sect. His mother supported him in his duties at first, and it became clear very quickly that his style of leadership was very different from his father. Lan Wangji wasn’t sorry to see it.

To the surprise of everyone who had been at Cloud Recesses at the time, the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli was eventually renewed. After the renewal of the engagement was announced, it did not take long for the wedding invitations to arrive in Gusu. It was sooner than Lan Wangji would have expected, but then, that they had renewed the engagement at all was perhaps the most surprising part. After all, Wei Wuxian had belonged to the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. The Jiang were partially to blame for the death of Jin Zixuan’s father, and no one would have blamed him if he refused to take Jiang Yanli as a bride now. And yet, it seemed like he’d had a change of heart.

Lan Wangji couldn’t help but think about Wei Wuxian as he read the wedding invitation Lan Xichen had given him. His sister would marry the new leader of the Lanling Jin sect, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to attend. Wouldn’t even be able to congratulate her. Lan Wangji knew that he had loved his sister very much – to the point that he would fight her own fiancé if he thought her mistreated. But Wei Wuxian hadn’t left the Burial Mounds even once after the barrier had gone up, and he would be a dead man walking if he did. There had been rumours about strange, shadowy figures leaving and entering the mountain in the cover of darkness a few times. But it was all rumours, and no one knew what was happening behind the barriers and the cover of the withered trees of Burial Mounds.

Lan Wangji had only spoken about it once with Lan Xichen, but he was still haunted by his last words to Wei Wuxian. How foolish he had been, in retrospective, to let his own prideful anger come between the two of them. His mistake had cost him the truth. He had followed Wei Wuxian to find answers, not to push him away. But he had succeeded in pushing Wei Wuxian away so perfectly, he couldn’t reach him now no matter how much he tried. The answers of what happened that fateful night were inaccessible to him now.

No, he had said, instead of asking him why he’d done it. He had betrayed the principles of his sect because he had felt personally betrayed by Wei Wuxian’s actions. It had taken him weeks until he had finally felt he’d done penance enough.

His brother had watched him with worried eyes, but said nothing. That had continued until one day, he suddenly sighed and said, “Wangji, you cannot punish yourself for the actions of Wei Wuxian, too.”

That is not what I’m doing, had been on his lips, but Lan Xichen had only smiled sadly and shook his head.

Things had returned to normal, as much as they could. The library was cleaned out and purified thoroughly. Jin Zixuan visited Cloud Recesses, to show that there was no bad blood between the two sects. Lan Wangji congratulated him on his impending marriage, trying not to think about all the things Wei Wuxian might have to say on such an occasion. Weeks turned into months, and the rumours about the Yiling Patriarch swirled even at Cloud Recesses. The last Lan Wangji had heard, the demonic cultivator at Burial Mounds had glowing red eyes and the body of a snake.

And yet, Burial Mounds remained encased in shadows.

It remained that way until Lan Wangji returned to the Jingshi one evening, tired from the duties of the day and ready to rest, and found a letter on his desk that hadn’t been there in the morning. None of the servants could have brought it in. No indication on who had sent it, or that it was even addressed to him. Who had brought a letter into his room? He could only think of his brother, but Lan Xichen had seen him not half an hour ago, and he had said nothing about a letter.

He quickly sat down and opened it with careful movements.

Lan Zhan, it read.

Lan Wangji froze. His heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. Could it be–

Lan Zhan.

Forgive me for my impertinence. I do not wish to trouble you, but I felt that out of all the people I could have possibly asked, you are the one who will be unfailingly honourable and will not betray me. Not that I think my brother or sister will betray me. But if Yu Ziyuan hears about me sending them letters, there will be an end to all peace. So. You are the only person I can depend on. Please don’t betray that trust. I always trust your inherent goodness, Lan Zhan. Please believe that.

I know I’m rambling, and I can already see the furrow forming in your brow as you read this. Be patient with me. I’ve been shut up with the same few people in a rather desolate place for a while now, I feel I’ve already forgotten how normal communication works. Wen Qing is constantly judging me for it already, so you don’t have to carry that burden. It’s well taken care of. She’s amazing, by the way, and out of the two of us, she’s definitely the one who’s keeping everything together. If there ever comes a time when you can do something for her or her brother, please do the right thing. They never deserved getting shut in with a criminal. The guilt is mine alone.

I’ve heard that my sister will marry soon. Yes, I hear things, I have my ways. You know how I feel about the peacock, so keep an eye on him and give him a beating if he deserves it. No, tell Jiang Cheng to give him a beating. I think your disapproving glare will be enough. Jin Zixuan isn’t strong enough to withstand it.

I wish I could be there, see my sister wearing red. She will be the most beautiful bride that ever lived. But I can’t leave this place. I know the sects are watching me. So, I ask you humbly to give something to my sister, on her marriage, because she deserves a present from me at least, if I can’t be there for her. I wish I could. But I can’t, so I’m asking you to give it to her. You can do it under your own name, if you are more comfortable with that, I don’t mind. I just want her to have it. Please, Lan Zhan, I know you must hate me now and I know I have betrayed your trust, but I cannot disregard my duty as a brother. If someone understands that, it must be you.

However, if you’re unwilling to comply with my request, know that I don’t blame you. I do understand. In that case, you can give it to Hei and he will bring it back to me. Don’t try to trick him, and don’t try to follow him. He’s smarter than that.

And yes, I know that the name is stupid. I gave it jokingly, and now he answers to nothing else. Maybe not such a smart creature, after all.

Wei Wuxian

The letter disregarded all conventions of courtesy and letter writing, a strange mixture of polite request, cheeky comments, and rambling. There was no doubt in Lan Wangji’s mind that it had been written by Wei Wuxian himself. Who could write such a letter, other than him?

There were two problems, however, he pondered. No present for Jiang Yanli had been attached to the letter. To send such a letter without the present itself made no sense. And then, that strange name at the end…

“Hei?” Lan Wangji murmured to himself.

A croak answered him. He whipped around, and found a raven staring down at him from the top of the bookshelf right behind him. It had its head slightly turned, clearly watching him.

“Are you Hei?” Lan Wangji asked.

The raven croaked again.

He couldn’t believe it. Wei Wuxian had sent him a raven. It was a large animal, with cunningly intelligent eyes. An unusual messenger, indeed. It was so unexpected, and yet so very much like the Wei Wuxian that he remembered. The one who had teased him about rabbits, and then went out of his way to take care of them.

“Do you have the gift for Jiang Yanli?” Lan Wangji tried again.

The raven turned around and picked something up, spread its wings, and sailed down from the bookshelf, right onto Lan Wangji’s desk. He dropped the present onto the letter.

Careful to keep his movements slow, Lan Wangji reached for it. Hei seemed not to mind Lan Wangji’s closeness, so he took it, and opened the string that held the little box together. Inside the box, he found a beautiful hair ornament, embedded in fine silk: an array of lotus flowers in white and pink hues that would no doubt look beautiful in Jiang Yanli’s hair. Lan Wangji held it up and studied it. Truly, it was a suitable gift for the future wife of the sect leader of Lanling Jin. It also contained a powerful protection charm.

Protection against evil.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes.

He thought about the contents of the letter for a moment, but he knew that he had made his decision already. There could be no harm in giving Jiang Yanli this gift. It contained Wei Wuxian’s wish for his sister’s future.

And, he though, perhaps this was his penance. Wei Wuxian was still a murderer, but Lan Wangji had broken the rules of his sect.

He would not deny Wei Wuxian’s request.

“I will bring this gift to Jiang Yanli,” he told the raven. “But if you wait, I will also give you a answer to bring to your master.”

The raven crowed as if in agreement. He picked up one of Lan Wangji’s brushes and waved it into his face, as if to tell him to hurry up. Apparently, the temperamental disposition of master and pet did not differ significantly, Lan Wangji thought to himself. Wei Wuxian might have done the same, impatient as he always was.

He took the brush from Hei, and penned a very short answer for Wei Wuxian.

I have received your gift, and will do what you asked of me. I will tell your sister as much as I can, without endangering you or her. I cannot give you a promise for anything else at present.

You are right, however. Hei is a terrible name.

Lan Wangji

It was hardly an acceptable reply, and lacked both form and courtesy, but Lan Wangji knew that Wei Wuxian, of all people, would delight in his lack of style.

He handed the letter to Hei, who carefully picked it from his fingers and vanished out of the window with a quick rustle of his wings.

Silence settled over the Jingshi once more.

Lan Wangji looked at the letter again.

Wei Wuxian, he thought to himself. You call me honourable. I was not, when it came to you.

He thought about his own short answers. Would Wei Wuxian smile at it? Or would he not care at all? Lan Wangji had wanted to ask so many things, but he hadn’t dared.

Wei Wuxian, why have you killed Jin Guangshan?

Wei Wuxian, are you all right?

#kuro writes #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #wanxian #mdzs #letters from beyond #tagging this as such so you can find all the parts

34 notes · View notes

weirdponytail · 5 years ago

Text

Modern Inheritance: Limits (Semi WIP)

Summary: "Brom, I just want them back! I don't want anyone else to die and I want them back!" "I know, kid." "...I hate this fucking war." "...Yeah. Me too." Everyone has a limit on what they can endure without cracking under the strain. Some people can move that limit when they must, push themselves a little further to shoulder more so that others don't have to take it on or see them hurting. But often it's those people who break the hardest when their limit is finally reached.

Arya stared up at the plaster coated stone of the embassy ceiling. The events of the last twenty four hours played over and over in her mind, threatening to drown out her attempts to rest.

Ajihad was dead. The man everyone had been so sure would lead them to the gates of Urû’baen was gone.

Even after a lifetime of loss, Arya felt Ajihad’s death hit particularly hard.

The man was a genius strategist and unparalleled negotiator. Under his guidance the Varden had not only survived but thrived even as Galbatorix increased his campaign against them.

That wasn’t all. He was not just a military leader. Ajihad had been a personal friend to Arya, Fäolin and Glenwing. Despite being decades younger than the elves, the fallen commander always kept his eye out for them and encouraged all three to speak openly to him if any problems arose. He was kind, just and one of the most honorable men Arya had met during the entire hellish war.

Unbidden, the memory of the last occasion Arya had spent one on one time with the Varden’s leader crept into her mind.

It felt like months had already passed, but just over two weeks ago Ajihad had strode into Arya’s tiny room in the medical wing with a thermos of her favorite tea balanced on a fresh set of her fatigues in one hand and a packet of notes in the other. Arya had expected him to give a few short condolences and exchange hurried niceties before launching into a formal debriefing about her captivity, the events that led to it, and the information that she had either collected or divulged during that time. It was procedure, after all, and with the Urgals army fast approaching Arya understood that there would be little time for anything but the necessities.

But the Varden’s leader did nothing of the sort. Instead, using mugs borrowed from the cabinet of the nurse’s station, Ajihad sat and shared tea while he talked with the recently revived elf. They sat together, Ajihad somehow still looking regal and powerful while relaxing in a ratty old chair and Arya sitting cross legged on the edge of the hospital bed, barefoot and shirtless but very grateful for the pants and sports bra that provided more protection than a the hospital’s light pants and open backed shirt.

Ajihad spent well over an hour telling her of the things that had gone on since she last left with Saphira’s egg. Everything from an incident where Coop, the one legged veteran who owned the Varden’s traveling bar, had used his prosthetic to knock out the instigator of a drunken brawl, to the Ingeitum clan’s recent efforts to restart production of small tanks and new artillery, was discussed. It was informal, relaxing almost, and for Arya it brought an almost desperately welcome break from the constant questions about her state of mind and the well meant but invasive queries about her captivity and torture.

The tea had long since been finished when Ajihad paused, the boyish grin left from telling of Coop’s improvised assault fading from his lips. He steepled his fingers and settled his elbows on his knees before asking if Brom had told her about the current situation between the Varden and the elves. When Arya answered in the affirmative, an edge creeping into her tone, he simply nodded. He knew that she would do everything possible to put relations back in order.

Still. She could see the questions in his eyes.

He didn’t ask them. Instead, Ajihad gave her sincere condolences on the deaths of Fäolin and Glenwing. He did not apologize for their deaths, nor did he dither on about what could have been or should have been done, but he recounted their strengths and character, how much they meant to specific people in the Varden, and how much their support had meant to him and Nasuada during the early years of his leadership. It was heartfelt, and held no awkward silence or uncertainty as to how to address their deaths. Ajihad knew the importance of acknowledging their loss, while also understanding Arya’s need for privacy in processing their deaths.

As he took his leave, Ajihad pulled three objects from the pocket of his vest and gently folded Arya’s fingers over them. The subdued gleam of two hammered steel badges, bearing the Varden’s seal and hanging from black ribbons, met her gaze when she carefully revealed the gifts. Under them, another medal, plated in dull brass with a sky blue ribbon, detailed a wolf leaping over a wall of snarled barbed wire.

As she tilted the medals in her hand, Arya’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Etched carefully into the metal so that they became clear when light shifted, the glyphs that she, Glenwing and Fäolin had chosen for the motto of their tiny special ops unit shined back at her.

With a sudden lurch Arya sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, chest aching.

Even in their deaths, Ajihad had provided Fäolin and Glenwing permanent proof that though they were not human, they would always be a part of the Varden. It was a thought that Ajihad turned to solid fact during his time as leader, ensuring that the elves felt accepted and trusted in the fight against Galbatorix. It was why losing him felt like losing a another part of the family Arya had found in the Varden’s ranks. A family that was quickly shrinking as the conflict reached the start of it’s crescendo with Eragon and Saphira’s arrival.

At the thought of family Arya’s mind turned to Nasuada. Barely into adulthood and carrying the same strength and wit that Ajihad often displayed, Nasuada’s love for her father was obvious. The two doted on each other as much as they butted heads, stubborn and unyielding in their conviction to help the Varden despite the danger.

If only I had been faster. She still couldn’t shake the sound of the young woman’s wail that reverberated through the tunnels. Even in the warren of passages that the Urgals had escaped through she had heard the agonized sound clearly. I should have used magic to drive the Urgals back. Then maybe Ajihad, Murtagh and the others would have gotten out.

Arya tightened her grip on the sheets, feeling her nails dig into her palms through the material. No. I can’t do this now. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the lump in her throat down. Took several slow, deep breaths and settled back into the bed. There’s too much to do, too much at stake. Doubt and grief can come later. We’ll mourn later.

Right now, sleep. Then take the day one step at a time. The Council meeting tomorrow. Prep for travel back to Ellesméra. Keep an eye on Eragon and Saphira, make sure no one tries anything while we’re in chaos. Make sure the Council doesn’t try to steamroll Brom’s advice.

She breathed in again, closed her eyes. Loosened the fists she had made and forced her tired body to relax as she let it out. The tightness in her throat hadn’t gone away fully, and the heavy feeling in her chest remained. But it could wait. It would have to wait.

Keep on keeping on. It’s all we can do.

Resigned to sleep yet still uneasy, the elf subconsciously rolled over in the bed and reached out for the comforting, familiar warmth of Fäolin’s body beside hers.

Her hand fell through open air to land on cold, empty sheets.

Arya’s eyes snapped open.

~~~

Brom rubbed his face, chewing once again on the stem of his empty pipe. Arya had banned him from smoking in the embassy, but he was in no mood leave his room, much less go outside.

A heavy shroud covered Tronjheim in the wake of Ajihad’s death earlier that day. People were openly crying in the tunnels and crowded together for solidarity in their grief. The Rider didn’t want to be drawn into it. Instead he preferred to reflect on his emotions and the events alone with a shot of strong bourbon and his pipe. Sometimes one or two close friends were welcome, but the number of people he counted as such had dwindled over the course of the war till less than a handful remained.

Brom sucked in a breath through the pipe, tasting the remnants of his years of smoking in the wood. He hadn’t known Ajihad all that well, but the man made quite an impression on him the times that they had met face to face as well as when the two exchanged letters about the Varden. Brom found his decisions sound and his leadership to be well in line with the values that the Varden had been founded on. His death was a blow to the group for sure, both in a strategic sense and an emotional one.

The question of who would take over the Varden now haunted the Rider’s mind. Brom had been almost completely out of contact for the fifteen years he watched over Eragon in Carvahall, never mind the handful of years he spent infiltrating Morzan’s mansion. He had no idea who would be best to succeed Ajihad, but knew one thing: the Council was not to be trusted with the final decision.

Brom growled in quiet frustration. In his opinion a majority of the current Council were a bunch of power hungry, manipulative jackasses.

But still...the Council was an important part of the Varden’s structure. Without them t–

Brom bolted to his feet, chair clattering to the ground as a ragged scream ripped through the embassy. The Rider was out the door and in the hall when a resounding crash followed not a moment later.

Brom staggered as Arya’s door opened easily, fully expecting it to be locked when he jammed his shoulder against it. He stumbled into the darkened room and stopped, feeling a twinge of tightness in his chest as he took in the somewhat familiar scene.

Arya was sitting on the floor below a fresh hole in the plaster that hid the pipes and utilities anchored to the stone walls. Her shoulders, littered with angry red and raw scars that peeked out from the loose collar of her nightshirt, shuddered every few moments. Her left hand clenched over her face to hide her eyes while her lips pressed tight together to prevent any hint of sound.

Her right hand was limp at her knee, torn and bloodied. Deep bruises already bloomed at her first two knuckles where skin still remained.

Brom carefully stepped over scattered chips of plaster and sank to his knees in front of the crumpled elf. “Hey now…” Arya’s jaw clenched tighter and she turned her face away from him at his soft words, still covering her eyes. “Don’t do this, girl. We’ve talked about this.” Gently but firmly, the Rider grasped the woman’s left wrist and tugged.

A long second passed as Brom kept up the pressure, feeling the silent trembling through the limb until she finally dropped her hand. Arya looked up at him through the tears that streaked her face.

“There we go.” He gave her a soft smile. Eragon was his son, it was true. But family reached further than blood, and he’d be damned if he didn’t see the woman before him as his daughter. He had watched her grow from a small child, eager to fight in the name of her people, to a woman that now endured a multitude of wounds in the hope that her deeds would lead to a better future for all the races.

It wasn’t the first time he saw her like this. Wasn’t the first time he had consoled her after years, decades of pushing aside her own feelings for the sake of others, for the sake of the war, finally shattered through her carefully constructed walls. She had seen him the same way before as well. They both knew it was not likely it would be the last.

So he did what he had done before. What they both had done. “Don’t hold back, girl. I’m right here.”

Arya shuddered. Squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. But she didn’t resist when Brom pulled her into his arms.

Instead she gave a choked cry, seized a fistful of his shirt, and sobbed hard into his shoulder.

#modern inheritance #inheritance cycle #modern inheritance cycle #modern inheritance story #arya #eragon #brom #saphira #ajihad #arya drottningu #also on my deviantart btw #mic #mi #i promised arya punching walls #brom is everyone's dad

12 notes · View notes

my-emotional-self · 6 years ago

Text

The Mission Chapter 11

Pairings: Ari Levinson x Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst?

Summary: Ari Levinson tries to recruit you for Operation Brothers. While you weren’t ready for any kind of mission, you obliged after much consideration. You didn’t plan on falling in love along the way. But will Ari return those feelings? Or will his heart only be on the mission?

Another few successful months at the resort and with the mission and everyone couldn’t have been any happier with how things were turning out. It was now well into September of 1980, six fully successful missions under the crews belt.

After your fun little diving excursion with Ari, yet again, nothing had happened between the two of you and to be honest, it kind of hurt. Ever since you were younger, you had always been a giving, caring and passionate person with a big heart. And when it came to having feelings for people, or bonds, you couldn’t just stop them. It was one of your biggest flaws. But you pushed those feelings away and still had fun around the resort with Ari. His personality was infectious and you found yourself always in a good mood around him; even if he was pissing off Sammy. You trusted Ari and his decisions, even if they were risky because you knew his heart was in the right place; to save refugees.

Ari would sometimes come and sneak into your room in the middle of the night and you would wake up to him snuggling you; his arm secured tightly around your mid-section. Other nights, when you couldn’t fall asleep, you would slink off into his room and do the same. It was on those nights, where you would sleep in bed with Ari that you found the most restful night’s sleep.

The warm sun shone on your face as you stretched your limbs that morning. Ari had snuck into bed with you, but as usual, he was already gone by the time you woke up. With a sigh, you got up and went to the bathroom to relieve your full bladder. You splashed some cold water on your face, brushed your teeth and got dressed for the day.

As much as you wanted to wear you swimsuit with a tank top and sarong, you had other plans today. Instead, you put on a pair of long pants and a long sleeved shirt, covering your head in a scarf. You had talked to Chef Aziz last night about making a few fresh loaves of bread for you this morning so you could take them into the nearby village for trade. It was one of your favorite things to do; go into the village and trade fresh food for some gifts and knickknacks.

Over the course of the last few months, you had really gotten to know the locals in the village and they loved that you spoke their native tongue. Naturally you didn’t tell them anything about you or the resort, and you used a completely different accent than your German one as well. As much as you wanted to be truthful to them, you knew it could cause great risk.

Placing your sunglasses on your eyes, headed towards the main lobby where the crew was dining for breakfast. “Hey guys, I’ll be back in a few hours,” you said, noticing both Sammy and Ari weren’t around.

Rushing into the kitchen, Chef Aziz greeted you with a smile as he produced three fresh loaves of bread for you.

“Thank you so much,” you gushed in his native tongue as you placed the bread into your canvas tote. Grabbing the keys to one of the trucks, you began to drive to the local village nearly a half hour away.

~~~

Ari was breathing deeply, the music blasting through the speakers of his Walkman as he ran down the beach. He felt a nudge to his right and he turned to see Sammy now running next to him.

He took the headphone off his ears, nodding at Sammy. “Hey man, what’s up?”

Sammy shrugged, yet had a smile on his face. “Not much. I’ve just noticed how close you and Y/N have gotten since we’ve been here.”

Ari shook his head. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve gotten pretty close to everyone since we’ve been here.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Ari denied. He wasn’t lying because he was shameful of you or anything; it was nothing like that. It was the fact that he was the leader, the one in charge of this crew and he didn’t want the others to think his mind was on anything else but the mission. Truth be told, he was truly starting to gain feelings for you. He loved spending time with you, whether it was just eating lunch and dinner together, doing workout classes with the tourists together, or sleeping peacefully next to one another. Based off your experience, he knew you weren’t someone like Rachel; someone who could defend themselves. And while you haven’t really needed to use your skills all that much, he was genuinely impressed with how well you had handled things when the Colonel first came sniffing around. You held it together and didn’t blow the cover; he couldn’t have asked much more than that. He also saw the way you bonded with the staff of the resort, being able to speak Arabic with them had really helped. He saw what a big heart you had and how dedicated you were to this mission. But he needed to put forth his leadership, no matter how much it hurt him to sometimes step away from you. He couldn’t deny it though, the few times you had kissed and had gotten a little frisky, were the best days of his time spent here; besides successful mission days of course.

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Hell, Rachel and I have grown a lot closer too, if you know what I mean.”

Ari chuckled, nodding his head. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

The two men ran back to the resort together, heading towards the tables where the rest of the crew were sitting and eating breakfast.

“Ok, I got some intel late last night and I need to make an announcement,” Ari said, placing his hands on his hips. “The Hadandawa have been invading a few of the local villages lately, taking girls and women for human trafficking and since we just finished our sixth successful operation a few days ago, I want everyone to stick around here at the resort. We’ve got plenty of food to go around. I just don’t want there to be any risk, especially with you Rachel, and Y/N.” His eyes scanned the table, noticing two things. One, you weren’t there at the moment, and two, the dropped faces of Rachel, Sammy, Jake and Sam. “What’s the matter? Where is Y/N by the way?”

“She mentioned the other day about going into the closest village to trade some bread for a few items. This morning she took a truck and said she would be back in a few hours,” Rachel spoke up, fear lacing her voice.

“Fuck!” Ari growled out, his jaw clenching. “When did she leave?”

Rachel looked at her watch. “About a half hour ago.”

“Max, you’re with me. Everyone else stay here in case she comes back.”

Max dashed out of his chair, rushing to the truck with Ari. Ari placed the key in the ignition, put it into drive and slammed on the gas. His heart hammered in his chest, fear encasing him at the thought of you being taken. He just needed to get to you before anything could happen.

~~~

“Thank you!” you spoke in Arabic to Amina, one of the vendors as you gave her a loaf of bread. She handed over a stack of beautiful hand crafted beaded bracelets and you placed them gently in your canvas tote. You had known Amina for a while after you started coming to visit the village to trade food for items. She always had the most beautiful jewelry and no matter what, she was always the first person you went to when you visited. In reality, she was a great friend to you. The two of you always chatting for long periods of time each time you came here. She had a beautiful smile and you were instantly drawn to her wonderful personality.

The peace of the late morning had soon turned to dread as worry began to etch across the faces of the local villagers. Turning to see what they were looking at. Your heart dropped at the sight of the many trucks billowing down the dirt road, heading straight towards the village. Your hands began to tremble, thinking it was the Mukhabarat; your body shaking at the thought of seeing Colonel Ahmed again after the last encounter you had with him.

But your thoughts were quickly shaken by someone grabbing your hand; it was Amina. “Come quick, we must hide. It’s the Hadandawa and if they find you, they will take you,” she spoke in her native tongue.

Your eyes began to water as you remembered Ari speaking about it with you and the crew the first night you arrived. They were known for human trafficking; especially going after girls and women.

Amina quickly began to pull at your arm and you turned to face her, dashing off into the long grass; praying you would be able to hide good enough until they left.

Forever Tag List: @badassbaker @guera31 @tanelle83 @xjjlex @chrisevansfanfic @princess-evans-addict @joannie95 @pumbibaby @patzammit @brastrangled @mrs-captain-evans @notyourtypicalrose @sfreeborn @esoltis280 @xxloki81xx @poerebel @livslookingforloki @bornfortherainydays @raveviolet @southerngracela @the-wayward-robot @scuzmunkie @cinna-minseok @laura-gzz @beautifulrare4leafclover @emogeographics @chocolate-cutting @capslut2014 @songforhema @allsortsofinterests @firstangeldragonranch @bval-1 @softbibby @troublermalik @space-helen @zsuzstyina @captainsteveevans

Ari Tag List: @angrybirdcr @beautifulbashfulblackqueen @itssweetprison @thiccstuxky @writerwithfluffysocks @ohmyevans @ari-levinson @jennmurawski13 @rimbougrine @littlemaatta @thisisjeany @capsbooty7 @anjana-fandoms28 @thepriestessofavalon @ladybugsfanfics @xchrisxevansx @draeluna @mgosal43 @symonlyjen5 @mustangshelby04 @technicallykawaiisoul @chibi-crazy @capamericaevans @peach-acid @whitequeenasitbgan @diariesoftheunwritten @emmalbg @iizabxlla @mamaragebear @janeyboo @rainbowkisses31 @capsiclesdoll @torntaltos @mrsevansthefirst @itsallyscorner @nthepianogirl @shmaptainshmericaaa @puddlejoy @random-shit-for-you-all @31shadesofbrown @naturalavenger @nanibon @cdnmaggie @wandascarlett @the-fandom-life-forever

#ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

283 notes · View notes