#((the only person he had to try and learn from is blaze.............. timeline willing..........))

[skyfcx]

@arksmemoir replied to your post: I would say that Silver definitely has more insecurity. He feels much newer to true heroism, and it shows with how easily starry-eyed and led astray he can be. His heart is in the right place, but he needs more experience under his belt to find that comfort in what he wants to be. Sonic is a hero by happenstance; he doesn't go into things with the express purpose of Being a hero. It's just what his instincts and philosophy naturally lead him to be. Silver is stumbling and thinking too hard. That's why he relied on Blaze for most of his story in 06, who was much more confident and self-assured. But he's plucky and friendly and doesn't give up. He just needs some guidance.

me nodding as i scribble all of this down in a notepad. yeah, i totally agree!! i really love the idea that he's a hero in training, i can go absolutely nuts with a character like that. due to the fact that being a hero is something silver is actively striving to be, he has goals he reaches for, missions he aspires to finish, and failures that he can experience when an expectation of his isn't met. thinking too hard, as you stated.

meanwhile sonic is just adventuring by the seat of his nonexistent pants. he does what he feels is right, he has no proper aspirations and thus is more of a natural to being a hero. because he's not trying to be a hero, he's just being himself! hero by happenstance, once again as you stated! he's literally a natural, it's all instincts and learning from experience.

[plaguedquillfeathers]

In the Aether: A Dream SMP Deity AU

❝ Even gods bleed. The issue is that, in the aether, they’ve chosen to bleed willingly.❞

So I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’ve decided to post it regardless of if I actually go through with it completely!

Have a Dream SMP, but they’re all gods!

Basically, think of the dream smp, but instead of them just being members, they’re the gods that control how the world exists. Think about it: villagers being so fearful of which god decides to whisk them away for wars and creatures of the night trying to kill them for existing only to have themselves harvested for obviously magical properties? Fun as heck!

Anyway, here’s some notable deity titles (with more under the thread)!

Dream as the God of Desires -- of wishes, even dreams themselves. Nothing can be can be concrete without that spark to make it flare, but as his need to fulfil everyone's desires grew deeper, he fell into a dangerous loop. His own wish for things to "go back to normal", to have control, has thus corrupted what he thought he knew, poisoning the minds of all under his watch. The aether’s darling child, he is the reason the gods came together under one sky.

JSchlatt as the God of Conflict. Originally banished to maintain order, he returned with the sole purpose of creating friction -- of tipping the scales. In his death, he still won, for the friction is now more present than ever. They all need him to have a purpose, to have something to fight for. He knew that all along, and oh, would he do it again.

Philza as the God of Life and Death. Since both concepts can only be separated by a moment not noticed by many, he likes to only go by the god of life. Unfortunately, things don't work that way. 

Technoblade as the God of Anarchy -- of that pesky thing that refuses to have an order. The voices are the lost essence of all forms of chaos, refusing to fade off into the aether. They fuel the Blood God, yes, but their chaos is addictive. It’s uncontainable. 

Wilbur Soot as the God of Imagination (and budding god of music!). His idea of creation was corrupted beyond compare, leading to his demise. Ghostbur, however, is something else entirely...Or is he?

Tommy(Innit) as the presumed God of Mischief, but actually the God of Rebellion. Always pushing the envelope, he's young and slowly understanding himself. It's a slow process, but with control being a major factor in the deities’ realm, it’s a struggle.

Tubbo as the God of Loyalty, of keeping oaths. He’s still reeling from the greatest oath he had to break with his best friend, as well as the continuously broken loyalties of his allies. However, his oath to Tommy remains strong, despite the cracks in their armor.

Eret as the Deity of Fate, with eyes that mirror what life could be for a person if they stare into them. They maintain the museum as a way to show that things were always bound to happen. It was always meant to be. Hmm, but what if...

Nihachu being the Goddess of Freedom, scorned one too many times because her kindness was taken advantage of, not to mention her message being corrupted to further agendas that soon went against her very being. 

Fundy being the God of “The Crossroads” -- of Choice. He is still too young and inexperienced to understand his own power, endlessly seeking others to make his choices for him 

Ranboo as the God of Memory, lost in his own mind as he tries to recover what he has lost. He needs to find those shades of grey again, but as the realm continuously shifts, he can’t help but feel hopeless at times.

Awesamdude as the God of Knowledge, objective and impartial, emotions hidden for the sake of learning all there is to know. He is known far and wide for some of the most elaborate things, so it's no shock that feeds off the desire to create something greater; however, while Dream is willing to exploit this, Sam is highly aware that things are off(tm). 

Quackity as the God of Transformation -- of change, really. Like fundy, he was soon manipulated into seeking out the meaning of his worth, which had disastrous (and lingering) results. 

Karl Jacobs as the God of Time. People underestimate him because he’s so damn nice to everyone, but given that he sees so many timelines, he’s learned that being happy in the moment is the best action.

Callahan as the God of Silence, but actually the God of Intuition. In silence, one can truly hear their true intentions. He never speaks a word, for the gods know he already knows. 

Sapnap as the self-proclaimed God of the Hunt, but officially known as the God of Passion. Having harnessed flame like a well loved pet, his skills (and determination) surpass even the most angry of blazes.

CaptainPuffy as the Goddess of Victory. She’s very good friends with a lot of people, but her competitiveness does cause some messy situations. Somehow, she’s managed to get into Dream’s radar, and she worries for him. 

GeorgeNotFound as the God of Luck. Having avoided much conflict and stayed naïve to many things, it's not a surprise that his presence among Dream seems to boost the God's infallible air. 

BadBoyHalo as the God of Protection. He's bound to skeppy by choice, but tends to focus more on keeping those he deems worthy safe. The fact that a mysterious egg has corrupted him of all people should be hella concerning...

Skeppy as the God of Mischief. Funnily enough, he gets along will with Techno despite their obvious differences, while being one of the few that manages to get Bad to loosen up without much effort.

Antfrost as the God of Healing, usually seen around the inherent healer that is nature itself. He’s a master of alchemy, and an animal lover.

Punz as the God of Strategy. He’s a seemingly close ally of dream, but willing to switch sides if the battlelines shift. He is well respected amongst many deities and uses that power to breeze through conflict with ease.

Alyssa the Goddess of Travel. A rather rare figure to see, but she's the reason gods have a safe journey into the lands they all inhabit. 

Ponk as the God of Sacrifice. A callback to his cat killing days, he believes that one cannot take without giving. Sometimes, you must lose something to gain something in return.

JackManifoldTV is the God of Abundance, given his previous obsession with Manifoldland. He's constantly underestimated, but he realizes his worth when he cheats death. He's always been more than enough... it's time to prove it.

Purpled as the God of Courage. He's not afraid to stand by his thoughts, usually rubbing off on those he is currently protecting. An important ally to have in a fight.

ConnorEatsPants as the God of Charm. He utilises this to get out of bad situations, mostly. if he can avoid the more brutal gods, He's happy that way, even managing to get into Conflict’s good graces.

Hbomb as the God of Fun. He’s always trying to cut through the chaos that is the deities with something that brings them together, even if it’s for a little while.

Vikkstar as the God of Inspiration. As one of the oldest gods present, and a massive inspiration to a lot of them, he tries not to interfere, instead making his home with his friend and waiting for the younger ones to sort their shit out.

Lazarbeam as the God of Tradition. He remembers the days before these newer gods roamed, watching silently as they figure themselves out. Like Vikk, he doesn’t get involved.

 FoolishGamers as the God of Rebirth. A recent addition, and actually an offshoot of Philza’s side of things, he’s still settling in. Perhaps, he can be of assistance...Hopefully he picks the right side.

Slimecicle & Hannahxxrose as the God/Goddess of -- Well, TBA.

And a Bonus:

MrBeast as the God of Charity! Everyone loves him. That is all.

[jenonctcity]

Chances - Part 6

Na Jaemin/Huang Renjun – Fluff/Angst

Ex-husband!Jaemin/Husband!Renjun

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None.

Request: Requested by anon – Your past with Jaemin, the pregnancy, the divorce, and how you meet and marry Renjun.

A/N: Just in case this is confusing for anyone, this is part of the Chances series. It does go with the current story of Chances and is going to be set out like a timeline of the events that happened before the series took place. However, it can be read as a standalone piece or like a prequel. But I would recommend checking out the other parts of this series if you get confused. Hope you enjoy!

 Meeting Jaemin:

University was kicking your ass. Between your daily classes and your demanding job at a restaurant, you were left feeling tired and emotionally drained. You didn’t have a choice but to carry on though, money being tight and your education costing you far too much money to skip any nugget of information they were willing to provide you. You had little to no social life, the only person you really interacted with was with your roommate, who herself wasn’t much of a talker. Loneliness consumed you at all the wrong times, it mostly happened late at night after a shift at the restaurant. You’d tuck yourself into bed and let out a sigh, wishing you could cross the room and nudge your roommate awake for a chat. But you didn’t know the girl well enough to do that and you were almost certain it would make her dislike you.

The day you tripped down a couple of steps at university from not paying attention to your feet as much as someone as tired as you were should have, was the day that changed your life. Your wrist was causing agony to throb through your nerves, all your pain receptors on red alert and forcing you to call in sick to work to head to the emergency room. It was absolutely heaving with people of all ages due to it being a Friday evening. There were only 3 seats left available and you weighed up your options as you studied the people, they were situated next to. A drunk couple who both had similar cuts on their foreheads, you could only assume they’d done something highly dumb to end up with those injuries. An old man who was slouching into the free seat next to him as he started dozed off, his eyes dark underneath like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked like he tried to fight off sleep until he started to have a coughing fit, sitting up straight and coughing into his hands. And finally, a young man who had bleached blonde hair dyed a light pink, dressed from head to toe in a black adidas tracksuit, his arms folded across his chest and his knee jittering as he waited. You were unaware what he was waiting to be seen for as you couldn’t see any physical injuries on him, but as you looked between all three options again, you decided he was the lucky winner.

You quickly approached him, hugging your wrist to your chest as you cleared your throat, gaining his attention as he looked up at you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, smiling weakly at him.

“No, go ahead.” He copied your smile, watching you for a moment as you sat beside him. You looked around the emergency room, trying to find something remotely entertaining to watch, also regretting that you didn’t bring the book you’d been trying to finish for the past 2 months with you. “What did you do to your wrist? Or is it your hand?” You heard the boy ask you, his voice deep and his tone was warm.

“I er…tripped down some stairs.” You looked at him and laughed softly. “Not my finest moment.” You winced as you jostled your wrist by accident when you moved it to your lap instead of cradling it to your chest. “What are you in here for? You don’t look like you did something dumb and injured yourself.” You tried to joke with him, this being your only form of entertainment. The longer you looked at the handsome boy the more you became self-conscious of you what you assumed was your messy state. You hadn’t actually seen your reflection since you’d left your dorm that morning, but you presumed your hair had gotten messier, and your mascara had smudged from the tears you’d shed upon your unexpected meeting with the hard ground.

“Oh no I’m not here for me, I’m just here as support.” He flashed you a wide smile, motioning to the boy sitting beside him whose eyes were swollen shut. “Dummy over here forgot about his hay fever allergies and went running through a field of flowers like Bambi on crack.” He sniggered when his friend reached out to hit him but missed due to his lack of eyesight. Merely swiping at the air and just missing someone as they walked past.

“Hey! just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t hear, you ass.” His friend whined, folding his arms over his chest like a disgruntled child. You giggled at the two of them, your eyes feeling crusty from the dried tears when your smile reached your eyes.

“Pipe down Jeno, you’re lucky I brought you here and didn’t just leave you to blindly make your way here after you drank my banana milk.” Jeno didn’t reply, only sinking further into his seat as he sulked. Jaemin turned his head back to you and smiled again, his eyes raking over the span of your face and he couldn’t help but think about how naturally beautiful you looked. Even if you did have smudged eye makeup and needed to comb your hair. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N), I’d shake your hand, but I kind of can’t right now.” He smiled warmly when his attempt of a joke made you giggle.

“Maybe some other time.” You didn’t realise what your words insinuated even after you’d said them. But he noticed straight away, nodding his head eagerly.

“I hope so…I’m Jaemin.”

 The Pregnancy:

Your relationship with Jaemin had been going strong for the past 7 years. In that time, you’d both finished your education and secured jobs that were not only financially stable, but also gave you good amounts of time to be together, unlike the jobs you both held back when you first met and started dating. On your five-year anniversary, Jaemin had popped the question to you and within a year you were named Mrs Na.  You also both agreed to move out of your cosy – Jaemin would call it cramped, but you preferred cosy – apartment, and move into one with more room for your family to grow. It started off with the two of you getting a hamster, which Jaemin wanted to name Megatron Fire Blaze, but you shot that idea down with a death stare and the hamster ended up being named Tony.

A few months after your seven-year anniversary you’d dropped the pregnancy bomb onto Jaemin. He was thrilled and wasn’t too proud to admit he bawled his eyes out like teenage girl watching a sad movie about a tragic love story. Your pregnancy was going smoothly apart from the tiny feet that would aggressively kick your insides every now and then. You were also certain your baby was learning to tap dance and using your bladder as its dance floor, also, the uncomfortable and inconvenient need to pee was starting to drive you insane.

“What do you think of the name Sooyoung for if it’s a girl?” Jaemin asked, neither of you facing each other as you laid with your back pressed to his chest in the bed. The turned down sound of a movie neither of you were paying attention to on the television acted as background noise as you both focussed more on your conversation. Despite both of you having your eyes trained onto the movie, neither of you could tell someone what was going on with the storyline if asked.

“Hmm…no I’m not feeling it.” You sighed in annoyance, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Our baby is never going to have a name at this rate, I just don’t like any names anyone is suggesting!” Jaemin remained silent for a moment, not being able to see much of your face from the angle he was laying at.

“You’re not going to cry are you…?” He was still learning to deal with the crazy ways your hormones would affect your moods. It still baffled him how one second you could be laughing at a funny post you’d seen on twitter and then the next you were crying about how you couldn’t reach the remote for the tv without getting up from the comfort of the sofa. He would often think back to the time Jeno commented on how your hair looked really full and colourful during your pregnancy and instead of taking it as a compliment you’d started crying in Jaemin’s arms, stating how horrible your hair must look normally and how you were just going to shave it off. Jeno had paled and immediately tried to backtrack on his words. The poor boy feeling the wrath of your pregnancy hormones. He tried not to laugh at the memory when you were around, just in case you asked him why he was laughing.

“No…” You bottom lip wobbled as you tried to hold it together, willing the tears to go away.

“What about…Joohyun? Seulgi?” You elbowed Jaemin in the ribs gently, causing him to groan as you turned to face him with your eyebrows pulling into a scowl.

“Now you’re just naming the members of Red Velvet!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as you caught onto his idea.

“Sorry!” He paused as he racked his brains, his lips pouting as his thoughts ran wild. “I like Mihyun.”

“Mihyun…” The name rolled off your tongue nicely as you repeated it again and again before concluding. “I love it, if our baby is a girl its Mihyun.” You smiled warmly, snuggling into Jaemin’s hold as much as you could with your big bump in the way. You both remained quiet for a while before Jaemin piped up.

“If it’s a boy, he shall be named Optimus Prime.”

“We are not naming our baby after a transformer!!!”

 The Divorce:

Na Mihyun was born on the 3rd of August. You and Jaemin had never felt more overjoyed and filled with love as what you did when you held the tiny infant in your arms for the first time. The second Jaemin heard the shrill cries of his daughter, the tears he couldn’t keep in rolled down his cheeks from pent up emotions popping like an overfilled balloon. Neither one of you could wait to take home the little life that was a symbol of your love for one another. However, things started to go sour within weeks.

The first argument was caused from Jaemin going out late with a few of his work friends. It didn’t bother you that he was going out and having fun, what bothered you was the text he sent you at 11pm that read ‘Will be another hour, don’t wait up’ after he’d promised you he’d be in before 11. It sent a spark of irritation amongst your body, but you tried to ignore it, knowing he had every right to go out and have some fun after being cooped up at home for the past few months with you. The hour passed and there was still no sign of Jaemin. After another half an hour you decided to call him, but he didn’t answer. Anxiety acted like a flood around you as the thought of him being hurt raided your mind, and the stress of being a new mother on your own and losing your husband began to make you sink in the pool on anxiety. You drowned in the feeling and it brought on a panic attack. You thanked god that Mihyun hadn’t woken up during that time, not knowing if you could have coped. He stumbled into the apartment at 4am, waking up your new-born and the anger pent up inside you. You gave him the silent treatment for a day before a big argument blew up, harsh words exchanged between you.

More arguments ensued throughout the next couple of months. Arguments over petty things, and you found that the two of you would argue for the sake of arguing at times. Leading to Jaemin spending most nights sleeping on the sofa, a hostile air between the two of you. You were miserable. And you didn’t want to feel like that when you should be enjoying your baby girl’s life. You didn’t want Jaemin feeling that way either. With the headspace you were in, you didn’t think there was any other options other than to go your separate ways.

“Jaemin, I need to talk to you.” You’d cornered him in the kitchen where you’d just come from your bedroom after putting Mihyun down for her afternoon nap.

“About what?” You longed for the days when his tone was soft, bringing comfort to you when you needed it the most. You’d already had a disagreement that morning, so his tone was unfriendly towards you. He turned to look at you from where he was making a sandwich on the kitchen counter, furrowing his eyebrows at your face as you silently cried. You heart breaking at the words you were about to drop on him.

“I can’t do this anymore…what happened to us? We hardly ever act like a loving couple anymore Jaemin and we can’t agree on anything anymore. I don’t want to fight every day; I just want a peaceful life with my daughter.” You gulped, starting to sob as you shook your head. His stomach sank, unease settling in the pit of his gut as he knew what you were about to say. “I want a divorce.”

“(Y/N) no…please we can work on this!” He abandoned his half-made sandwich, feeling numb and not knowing what to do other than to beg you to stay with him. “Baby don’t leave me.” He rushed to you, trying to take your hands in his own but you snatched them away, shaking your head and taking a step back.

“No…please just pack your things and go.”

“But I still love you…” He whispered, his voice cracking as a sob left his lips. You sighed, turning your back to him.

“Go.”

 Meeting Renjun:

Your divorce went through a lot quicker than you expected, and within a few months you were back to being a Miss. Life as a single mother was surprisingly easier than you thought, but that was probably because Mihyun was only just half a year old and had only just mastered the art of sitting up on her own. She had started to teeth also, which meant many sleepless nights for you, but you didn’t care because she was your only priority. You knew times would get tougher as she got older, but you couldn’t worry about it until it happened. After you and Jaemin separated, you both decided neither of you should keep the apartment, and you both moved into your own apartments. So even after living your new home for a month, you were still in the midst of decorating the place to your standards, loving that no one could tell you what you could and couldn’t put up on the walls. You did miss Jaemin, but you didn’t dwell on the feeling, knowing it wasn’t mentally healthy for you to live in the past when you had a whole fresh start ahead of you.

The apartment building you moved into was a new build, so all the apartments were slowly getting filled up with residents. All morning you could hear scuffling noises coming from the previously empty apartment next-door, so you assumed someone now occupied the living space. You went on with your day as you normally would, entertaining Mihyun as she tried to crawl around. In the end you put her in her walker, letting her cruise around the apartment to her own free will. You were engrossed in a silly tv programme that made little to no sense when a knock echoed through the halls.

“One Second!” You called out as you rose from the sofa, noting that Mihyun was fine in her walker. “You going to follow mumma?” You giggled when she grinned at you with her new front teeth, waddling after you in the confines of her walker. You smiled when you opened the door, met with an attractive man who looked to be around your own age. He had dark brown hair with matching brown eyes, his smile warm as he bowed to you.

“Hello! I just moved in next door, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.” He motioned his head towards his apartment as he spoke. “My name is Renjun.” He held his hand out to you and you quickly shook his hand with a smile. You detected an accent as he spoke Korean but couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

“I’m (Y/N), its nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, is it just you living here?” You noticed his glance at your hand, missing the slight raise of his eyebrows when he saw no wedding ring on your finger.

“No actually, I have this little terror living here too.” You opened the door wider to reveal your daughter, still sat in her walker and staring up at Renjun with wide curious eyes.

“Oh look at you!” He gasped, crouching down to her height and admiring the beauty of the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Mihyun.” You smiled in pride as you watched him coo over your child.

“Hi princess, aren’t you beautiful?” He chuckled when she pointed a hand at him and starting to giggle at him.

“She already likes you.” You folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m glad I have her approval.” He looked up at you with a soft smile, standing back up to his full height. “Well if you need anything then you know where I live.” He nodded his head at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You blushed, bowing to him.

“Thank you, same to you too.” You said your goodbyes and he headed back to his apartment. “Did you like him my little pickle?” You plucked Mihyun out of her walker to hold her to your chest. “He was nice wasn’t he?”

 Marrying Renjun:

A month after you’d met Renjun for the first time, he’d asked you out on a date. You hadn’t told Jaemin when he’d come to pick up Mihyun for the night, not wanting him to get upset about you moving on so quickly. At first you were hesitant whether to go on a date at all, but you didn’t want to let the opportunity of dating someone as lovely and kind as Renjun pass up. So, you took the plunge, went on a date with Renjun, and had an amazing night that you’d never forget. When Renjun proposed to you on your one-year anniversary, you took a week to give him your answer. Hesitant at first about marriage purely for the purpose that you’d already been married once and that hadn’t worked out. But after some deep thought and a long conversation with Jaemin about what went wrong in your marriage to him, you said yes. 10 months later you walked down the aisle and married Renjun, labelling him as the love of your life in your wedding vows. You didn’t know this, but Jaemin winced when he heard you say that. He went to your wedding despite the ache it caused in his heart, only going to show his support to you and not wanting gossip going around about his absence if he didn’t go.

You also moved apartments again. Renjun and you both moving into another apartment that was slightly bigger with the hopes of expanding your family at some point. Although you didn’t like that someone else now had a say in what you decorated the apartment with. Mihyun loved having Renjun living with you, him spoiling her with everything she wanted as soon as she told him her wanted it. He was good at acting like a father, but he knew he’d never take her own fathers place, which he didn’t want to do. But he loved her like she was his own flesh and blood, and he’d do anything for her. You hoped that this marriage was the start to your dream life, but you treasured everything you had with Jaemin. The highs and lows taught you things and gave you an experience that you’d never forget.

[salenakingston]

Decided to kick things off by doing a sample prompt to try and get my work out there. I asked my fiancé to pick a prompt and I rolled with it. Thanks my beloved. Any other prompts I get will follow this same format. Might as well get that out of the way. Any warnings will be placed at the top and in the tags.

Prompt: “it could be worse.”

“You aren’t the one bleeding.”

“Look, you are still alive. Stop whining.”

Warnings: Bodies/Corpses, Blood, Cannibalism, Violence, Death

Timeline of Events: Pre-Whitegale Estate (Backstory)

Total Word Count: 2,169 words

What was once believed to be impossible became a reality when a single switch had been flipped, the world around every living being changing forever. Living in a day and age where crime and punishment was seen in just black and white rather than a spectrum came with their own set of consequences.

A blazing fire.

Rotting flesh.

Screams.

Anger boiled out from one source, unable to be contained by the loss that had been suffered. Sickly green and the sheen of silver surrounded the space. It consumed anything that it touched, much like the same orange that enraged there once before. The smell was disgusting, but there was a certain amount of pleasure that came with it. It meant that the fires were winning. Wires tore, fire blazed, and blood painted the wood, stone, and earth beneath.

And then there was the continued screaming.

So much terror, but almost like it was music. At least that was how it started.

Then its luster began to fade.

The voices and ringing grew louder.

Louder.

LOUDER.

SCREAMING.

The sound of metal clinking against tile echoed through the room. A tool had been dropped from a shaking hand, a hand belonging to a tired looking man. Even though he wasn’t that old, nearly all of his hairs had turned white. A ratted duster covered most of his exposed body, the smell of iron hanging in the air around him. Bloody and bandaged fingers gripped at the side of a metal table, bile rising in his mouth as he leaned over. This was not the first time something like this had happened, though rarely was it when he was awake. He must have been trying a new tactic.

As if any of the other ones he had already tried weren’t bad enough.

“Stop!” The man’s voice rang out in the seemingly empty air. A chuckle echoed in the back of his mind, a pain spiking along the side of his head. Hands tightened around the grip of the table, sure that if he were to let go that he would crumble to the floor. He couldn’t make it seem like he had given in, even if it meant choosing the illogical option of the two placed in front of him. Standing in the face of pain seemed a much more bold display than falling and clinging to the spot where the pain emanated.

The chuckling didn’t stop, and soon shifted more into laughter. It had such a taunting tone to it, mocking the man for his current position. A voice pushed its way to the forefront of any of his thoughts, “Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t like taking a walk down memory lane?”

“I am w-wor-rking.” The man stuttered out. His once confident voice began to deteriorate when this demon invaded. He couldn’t hide how tiring it was to keep fighting back.

His eyes flashed for a moment, green flickering to orange, “Come on Malceum. You’ve been picking at these bodies for hours. Let’s go have some fun.”

“No. I-I’m so c-clos-se. I ca-an f-feel it.”

An entire lifetime’s worth of knowledge could have been, no.. had been, crammed into the man’s head since magic and the unknown became as real as anything else. The coined title of a ‘warlock’ held very little meaning when their powers couldn’t be seen by any passing person that he came across. Most information had been very hard to come by, but he had managed. Desperation drove him to pursue this knowledge by any means necessary, consequences be damned.

He was already suffering far worse than whatever sort of law enforcement might be able to do to him.

He couldn’t stop working. Sleep was an afterthought. Food was something only to be taken when absolutely necessary, unless he was forced to by his tormentor. He was always so careful, every cut precise, each test ran to the finest process. His surgeon skills were placed perfectly to obtain anything he needed, and there never seemed to be a shortage of bodies for him to use, whether that came from work, or by his own hands.

Even through the bandages he could feel his skin coated with blood. Sometimes he disgusted himself at the level of brutality he would do to a corpse, but it all faded when he remembered who he was doing all this for.

No, he couldn’t afford to stop working for a moment.

But he didn’t like that. He didn’t like getting ‘no’ for an answer.

Eyes flickered again, that familiar feeling of bile beginning to rise in his throat. His head pressed to the table, dry heaving above the pristine tile. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold onto himself before one of two outcomes were to take place. He would take over, or he would have to endure another punishment. It seemed that he was keen on the former of those two this time around.

Sickness was just a means of bending his plaything to his will.

After a valiant effort on his host’s part, the flames of his eyes finally faded, and in their place came those silted orange ones. How nice it was to be able to be the one in control again. Pushing himself back up, his arms stretched out, no longer feeling any sort of pain radiating, “Sorry my dear host, but you’ve been in here for far too long. Let’s go for a little evening stroll.”

Was it evening already? Just how much time had really passed since he had begun working? Everything just seemed to blur together for him.

They left the lab, tucked safely under his own office building. Being a private surgeon had its perks, especially when considering the country he lived in. Germany never did have a good reputation, but it with the people that lived here, or with other nations at large. The pay was alright, and good thing too when it came to getting more that was required for the project at hand. They turned around, making sure the door was locked out of habit, but mostly because he knew his host would panic otherwise.

They turned down the street, pulling the hood of his duster up. They had been sure to clear their hands before coming out here, but the same could not be said for the splatters of red staining brown along his chest. It didn’t seem to bother them anyways. They kept their head held high, not paying too much mind to the lights beaming down from lamps, or the glow that shined from the moon and stars above.

Well, now it was more a matter of finding some entertainment. That was the whole point of this anyways.

Orange eyes darted around the streets in front of him. Now then, what would be a perfect place? It’ll have to be somewhere secluded, or easy to access for such a thing. Maybe we should feast again. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

No…

A strong arm soon wrapped around their tiny torso, pulling him into a nearby alley. There wasn’t much of a point to fighting back, as this could be just the kind of entertainment that he was seeking. They were dragged further into the darkness, their eyes seeming to be the only thing that glowed against their surroundings. The tugging soon stopped, their body colliding into a brick wall. Well, wasn’t this just as cliché as it got? Right down to the number of bodies he managed to catch in the moonlight, their armed persons, and even some of them waving magic around as if it was supposed to be threatening.

Fools.

They should run.

But they won’t. You’re an easy target.

They brush themselves off, standing up properly before addressing the thugs, “What a shame you all must be to this supposed great country. Just living up to what the world thinks of us aren’t you?”

“This one’s sure got a mouth on him.” “Oh don’t worry, we’ll fix that.”

Typical, and stupid. They were the ones in danger.

Run!

They stepped forward, concern thrown out the window as they casually placed one hand on the closest thug, “Now listen here, I’m a very busy man. This has been fun, but I can guarantee this little interaction is going to be far too boring for me. Maybe I’ll be nice just this one time and let you all leave with your lives. How’s that sound?”

All of them seemed genuinely shocked, as if they had never had one of their victims act so bold before. But they knew how this was going to go. The group was going to swell their ego. They were not going to let this one man simply walk away. A pity that none of them ever learned. Oh well, guess he was going to have to take this. He would find a way to make this more thrilling.

They felt something insert itself inside them. More than one thing really. How dull. Their weapons tore along the broken man’s body, echoes of cries ringing in their head. Oh his poor, little toy. Laughter exploded from the man’s lips. There was hesitance around him, eyebrows raising, positions frozen. Their laughter didn’t seem to die down at all, and the longer it went on, the more wrong this all seemed to be.

Shines of silver began to shine from the man’s body, almost like tiny little threads were twirling around them. Without much warning, the threads, wires, took hold of their victims. The weapons fell from their body, clanging to the stone walkway of the alley. They stepped over towards one of their victims, an ear to ear grin stretching across their face, “Poor sods. I was willing to be nice, but you didn’t want to listen.”

Stop.

“You know, my host hasn’t had a good meal for a while. I would know, I am constantly watching him. Maybe it’s time we fixed that.”

Stop!

“Maybe I’ll even be much more generous and gift him some new test subjects for his little project. You all should be honored!”

STOP! They stepped close, the wires wrapping tightly around the victims’ bodies, specifically over their mouths. Couldn’t let anyone hear their screaming now could they? The last thing that thug saw was a row of sharp teeth, something no human should ever have. They sank into his flesh, ripping and tearing the skin before devouring the meat to their heart’s content.

He was disgusted.

He hated himself.

He never wanted a life like this. Why did he have to do this to him?

Wires dragged the new corpses back in the darkness, coming back to the door of a familiar office. It was unlocked, and then the man stepped back inside. His grin hadn’t faded, not even as he padded down the familiar steps to the lab, “That was actually quite fun, and look! Your stomach isn’t empty anymore. Aren’t I just so kind to you?”

Silence.

Once they came to the same surgical room, the bodies were tossed to one corner, as if they were nothing more than just trash. They stepped over to a mirror, arms lifting up to undo the duster. There were a few deep gashing along their chest, something only seemed to bother the one that had become nothing more than a voice. Their shoulders shrugged at the sight, “It could be worse.”

You’re not the one bleeding.

“Look, you’re still alive. Stop whining. As if I would let anything happen to my little pet. If you were dying, I’d be the first to know. You’re fine.”

No… he wasn’t. He hadn’t been for a long time.

But that’s why he was here in the first place, wasn’t he?

They guided their body over to the numerous medical supplies, hands coming together, “Come now, let’s get you patched up.”

The rest of the night dragged on, harsher than it needed to be with his form of healing. By the time Malceum had come back into the picture, his mind was more tired, and his body spent. He finally was able to make his way to bed, off to a sleep he knew would not be pleasant. When he woke up the next morning…? Was it morning? The sun was out, but time was broken to him. It didn’t really matter, not having anything scheduled for today.

A paper rested at his doorstep, a familiar news article about a brutal mauling in the city’s alleys staring him in the face. This was not the first time he had seen this, and was sure it would not be the last. Slipping into a cleaner duster, the man returned to the lab, iron smacking his senses. Right… his new subjects. Well… might as well use them since they were here.

Time to get to work?

A sigh, “T-Tim-me to get to w-work.”

[partypetes]

TUA Creator’s Bingo: Hoodie

Summary:  Vanya learns that withdrawals suck. Thankfully, her brother knows a thing or two about it.

Pairing/Characters: Vanya Hargreeves and Klaus Hargreeves

Word Count:  2276

Square Filled: Hoodie

Warnings: implied/reference drug use, withdrawals,

A/N: third entry for @tuacreatorsbingo ! some good good klaus and vanya hurt/comfort content because we need more of that in our lives

AO3 Link

It was a bad, bad day. Withdrawals were awful.

Sitting in the kitchen, Vanya was digging her nails into her arms hard enough to leave marks while she willed her body to stop shaking. She wasn’t even cold- the logical part of her brain told her that her nervous system was probably just overreacting without something to keep it calm.

Worse than the shakes were the ‘brain zaps’. The zaps were unsettling and disorienting and she could never predict when the next one would come. It was almost like trying to wait out hiccups, and it made it impossible to focus on anything- and she’d tried. She only got through half of a Beethoven piece, the zaps causing sudden stops and unexpectedly wrong notes before she gave up in a fit of frustration. Her powers made sheet music fly violently around the room as she made a loud, agitated noise.

Now, not sure she wanted to be alone with her powers and anger, but not really sure what she wanted at all- she sat in the kitchen with a now-cold mug of tea in front of her. Her nails dragged down her arms, leaving red scores.

A lack of sleep and her list of symptoms for the day left her agitated and manic, and she was trying hard not to spiral considering how her powers got when she was too emotional. She didn’t want to take the Academy down a second time, didn’t want to hurt anyone- except. Well, she kind of did. Not in a murderous way, she just- understood Diego and Luther’s constant need to punch things to cope a lot better than she used to.

Vanya didn’t know how much more of this she could take, but she didn’t know how to relieve it. She felt like a pot starting to boil over and she didn’t know how to let any of the steam loose. Old coping mechanisms from older therapists floated in and out of her mind, but she found they were more aggravating than helpful. ‘Identify your feelings. Go to your happy place. Meditate. Breathe’.

Fuck off , her brain responded to the suggestions.

Too stuck in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice her sibling until it was too late.

“Hey, Van.” Klaus greeted, giving her a nod and a smile as he moved into the kitchen, a long skirt trailing after him. A flash of irritation washed over her- if it was Allison or Five that would be one thing, but while she didn’t have much to hold against Klaus, he was so.. Loud. She didn’t think she could handle it gracefully today.

He proved her point as he started opening and shutting cabinets, digging through the fridge, setting a plate down on the counter with a clank. He even mumbled to himself - or to someone else. She and the rest of the Hargreeves were still trying to figure out what was a chatty ghost and what was Klaus being Klaus. Vanya didn’t know how long she sat there, her nails digger harder and harder into her skin as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth and tried to stay calm. Eventually, though, she had to crack .

“Klaus, would you just shut up ?” She demanded as she twisted in her chair to face him, the cup in front of her giving an ominous rattle and spilling most of her tea over the edge. He immediately froze in response, his expression falling. He quickly plastered on another, but she definitely saw the brief moment of hurt before he put on another easygoing mask.

“Shit.” Vanya said. Shame washed over her at the outburst. “I’m so sorry.” She blurted, running her fingers through her hair and clenching her fists at her scalp, “That was unfair, I’m sorry, I’m- the withdrawals today are just-"

“Oh.” Klaus said simply, the realization dawning on his face, “It’s okay, Vanya.”

“No, it’s not, that was shitty and we both know it-”

“Hey, you would not believe the things I’ve said to Ben on my pricklier days.” Klaus said. He was back to rummaging through a cupboard. This time, however, he made sure to close the cabinets gently and not to clink the dishes around as he moved. “And vice versa.” He snorted, holding up a rag, “It’s cute that you guys still think he’s an innocent little bookworm. He knows like three languages and tells me I’m making bad choices in all of them .”

He artfully stepped over to the table, his skirt swishing around his legs while he picked her cup up and set the rag down to start soaking up the tea mess. Then, “I’ll be right back.” He said with a considerate frown, and she nodded numbly before he disappeared down the hall.

The hopeless, angry part of her suggested he probably wasn’t coming back and just wanted to get away from her craziness. But it was Klaus, and if she was crazy.. To prove the point, he soon blazed back into the room with a black bundle in his arms.

“Put this on.” He suggested, setting it down on the table instead of handing it to her directly. “It’ll help.”

Irritation scratched beneath her skin, not wanting to be told what to do, but she reached forward to grab it regardless to try and keep the peace. Unrolling it, she realized it was a comfortably worn-down hoodie.

“Is.. is this Ben’s?” She asked, confused.

“No- well, maybe, actually.” Klaus frowned thoughtfully, “No, wait, you’re right, I definitely stole this from Ben.”

Surprise, surprise . Vanya huffed out a small laugh at his antics.

Then she carefully shrugged the hoodie on- it was a size or two too big, and made of heavy material that weighed on her shoulders. It smelled like a bizarre mix of something flowery and something that was almost definitely weed, but it was something she associated with Klaus. And that small fact was somehow comforting to her, just a little. So she sank back into her chair and into the fabric, the hood bunching up around her neck.

“It helps sometimes, to just have something heavy? It’s kind of grounding.” Klaus said, rocking back and forth on his heels and his toes with a strange expression, his movement betraying his nerves.

“I think you’re right.” Vanya said softly, starting to connect the dots. Even if she wasn’t feeling many more emotions than ‘fuck this’ or ‘fuck you’, she could recognize that Klaus was the resident authority on dealing with withdrawal. He was clean- hell, cleaner than she was, but she distantly remembered the days after the not-apocalypse where he hid himself away, snapped at them, or cried in strange places.

“Do you think a hug would help?” Klaus interrupted her thoughts like he was shoving the words out of his mouth as quickly as he could.

Vanya took a deep breath and slowly let it out through her nose, genuinely considering it. “I think.. That if someone touched me right now.. I’d throw them into the wall.” She said carefully, watching Klaus’ expression.

To her bizarre satisfaction, he nodded like that was a perfectly reasonable answer. “Sounds about right.” He replied absently, his eyes wandering the room before focusing in on her again. Ghosts, or Klaus’ attention span? Who knew.

“You’ve just gotta wait it out, Van.” He sighed, smiling regretfully, “And try not to burn too many bridges along the way.”

She tapped her fingers on the table, focusing on the sound and the vibration- before stopping herself. No going down the ‘catastrophic powers’ rabbit hole, not while she felt like.. this .

“I’m just…” Her hands clenched into fists, wondering just how much he’d get it , “Klaus, I’m- I’m so angry . And even after everything that happened.. I’m not used to it. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Was it a warning? Maybe. Or maybe she just wanted to be heard while someone was there to listen. She expected her brother to shrink away or find some convenient excuse to vanish, a spiteful voice in her head reminding her of how she and her unstable powers could just be too much for her siblings some days. But Klaus only sighed and leaned his hip against the table, staring down at her.

“That’s okay.” He said, “Is your brain like.. screaming at you and lashing out at everything? That’s not you, that’s just..” He made a face. “Chemistry and brain stuff. You can’t help it right now.”

She didn’t think anything could soothe the beast clawing in her chest, but Klaus’ words helped. Maybe only a little, but she’d take what she could get.

“Klaus,” She asked suddenly, as soon as the question popped up in her mind. She twitched, her brain.. well, zapping. “Can I- can I ask you something?”

His face lit up. “Anytime!” Klaus agreed.

She clenched her fists on the tabletop. “Are you ever-“ Her nails bit into her palms as she tried to consider how to phrase it, how to get the point across. “Did you ever feel..” Scared. “Concerned? I- I know you were on drugs for.. for a really long time.” She worried her lip, not sure just how candid they could be about the subject, “So when you were stopping.. was it hard, not knowing what.. what you were supposed to be like after?”

He looked confused but kindly concerned, brow furrowed as he tried to follow along. “You mean like..” He hummed, “You- I was on drugs so long, so was it scary not knowing who I was going to be without the high?”

She breathed out a deep sigh, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly that, yeah.”

“Well..” Klaus sucked in a breath through his teeth, cocking his head to the side, “My timelines were always a little rushed. But.. yeah? C’mon, it was practically baked - get it, baked - into my personality. ‘ Klaus the drug addict ’-“ He snorted unexpectedly, “It was almost like my brand. If I wasn’t him, who was I supposed to be?”

She only nodded. He seemed lost in thought, blinked, then he let out a soft ‘oh’ when he realized the conversational ball was still in his court.

“Soo.. yeah. Yeah, Van, it was fucking scary. Once or twice I think that’s why I fell off the wagon, honestly- back on the streets, I mean.” He rambled, “It was too big and scary, looking into a future where I had to be Klaus The Adult and act ‘normal’ and ‘fix’ myself.” Klaus made a face at the very thought. “It’s hard, getting kicked out of rehab and then knowing it’s all up to you to fix your shit. Even with Ben around.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.” She said. That certainly didn’t bode well for her. But it wasn’t like she could fall off the wagon, could she? After the apocalypse they had her taking her full dose and slowly weaned her off of it, and now she was finally out of pills and it was leaving her system. But she couldn’t deny that life was easier on the pills, as much as she hated feeling ordinary. Could it be enough, just knowing she had these powers under the surface? That she counted as a member of the Academy in her own strange way?

It must’ve been written all over her face. “But!” A panicked Klaus near-shouted, causing her to flinch away and glare with the strength of a thousand suns. He grinned sheepishly, adjusting his volume.  “Sorry. Sorry. I was just gonna say- I think it never stuck because I didn’t have anyone back then. I mean, Ben, but I’d been tuning out that shithead for years. And he tried, but he couldn’t do much to support me.

“Now, though-“ Klaus gestured with his hands, a knowing smile on his face, “I had… I’ve got people . And with hi- them, by my side and willing to help, that makes the future a lot less scary.” He made a soft noise. “Rehab was always hounding me about having a support system to stay sober- guess they knew something after all.”

“Oh.” She repeated.

“Is that…” He worried his lip with his teeth, “Is that helpful? I’m not usually the pep talk guy.”

“I…” She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly unclenching her fists so that she could hide her hands in the oversized hoodie. “I think.. I think it did, actually.” She could still feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. She still felt like she was a hair trigger away from something , and she didn’t want to find out what it was.

But the reminder that she wasn’t alone helped. Even if she didn’t trust certain siblings as much as others.. She wasn’t alone in all this. Especially with Klaus here.

Vanya looked at her brother in a strange new light. He hadn’t run away or made her feel like shit, not even when she flung her tea all over the table with her mind. So.. so no, Vanya wasn’t alone. Vanya had support.

Maybe she’d make it through.

“Thanks, Klaus.” She said softly.

“Like I said,” He replied, grabbing the rag and soaking up the rest of the mess before tossing it in the direction of the sink. It hit a cabinet and slid to the floor, but the thought was there. “Anytime, Van.” A pause. "Are you sure you don't want that hug?"

She scoffed out a small laugh. "Klaus, I love you, but go away." Vanya said mildly, the edge of her mouth quirking up in a small smile.

"Yeah," Klaus agreed, "Fair enough."

[artificialqueens]

game of survival, chapter 2/? (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: Fic title taken from the song Game of Survival by Ruelle. I love music way too much and may or may not have created a playlist to go with this fic - here’s the link for anyone who wants to listen.

Vanessa Mateo doesn’t falter. Not after fighting tooth and nail to get where she is, facing off against rivals that are both literally and figuratively larger than her while never once backing down.  

Watching the flames eat away at the walls of her office, however, tearing them down in a cloud of smoke and ashes, is enough to start to shake the strong foundations that she’s created for herself.

Her team is here, a flurry of movement and panicked calls and whizzing around her like flies while trying to figure out what to do. Someone (A’keria?) who is able to actually function in crisis has called 911. A myriad of firetrucks and police cars are already here with firefighters suiting up to confront the blaze that has started to spread to the building beside it.

Vanessa is glad that those around her are doing something, at least. She still hasn’t moved from her spot on the sidewalk. Her brain feels grey, all static and buzzing noises that are blocking any rational thoughts.

“Okay. Run me through it again. What exactly happened?” A’keria’s voice cuts through the fog, her campaign manager ever persistent and looking for some sort of answer. Not that Vanessa has one to give to her.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Vanessa’s voice comes out snappier than intended, if A’keria’s raised eyebrow is indicative of anything. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “All I know is that it blew up in front of my face and I only just missed becoming toast with it.”

A’keria’s face softens, hearing the slight break in Vanessa’s voice. Her hand is on Vanessa’s shoulder, as reassuring as she can be with the woman who is in charge of her paycheck. “We’ll figure this out. Silky is already on the phone to get more security because we’re going to need it on you 24/7 - don’t even try to argue with me.”

Vanessa huffs but doesn’t fight back. She’s been fiercely independent throughout this campaign, and the idea of continuous supervision makes her want to run and never leave her apartment again. However, she can’t deny that it’s necessary - not with the crackling noises of an office now turned to blackened dust continuing to echo in her ears.

A police detective grabs Vanessa as soon as A’keria turns away from her. “Just one more time ma’am, can you explain what happened? Working on getting this timeline straight.”

His reedy voice makes her wince. She tries her best to hold back the choice words that she so desperately wants to let out - the ones that she can’t freely express to anyone who’s not on her team, now that she’s running for office. Still needing to portray a wholesome image and all that.

Vanessa takes a deep breath, attempting to compose herself. She flashes the detective a polite smile: her ‘political’ face as A’keria calls it.

She’s gotten better at keeping her emotions in check as the campaign has continued, moving the heart that she normally keeps on her sleeve into a safer space inside of her mind. Her team has been grateful for it, having to intervene with less and less damage control as she’s stopped being completely honest with whomever she feels has wronged her in any way. She’s starting to feel like a rich white woman, slowly learning how to get what she wants with fake niceties and smiles that mask the true emotions that she holds back.   

Vanessa is honest with the detective for the most part, recalling the sped up walk to work after the longer than normal lineup at the coffee shop that morning. She falters, though, when she remembers the wild eyed woman that she had spilled her coffee on.

The one who barely noticed the spill and instead pulled Vanessa close and shielded her from falling debris when the office exploded. The one who disappeared right afterwards, like a fucking blonde and tall fairy godmother that Vanessa now feels like she’s imagined the entire time.

But she hasn’t, right? The woman had been real and there. Or at least, Vanessa thinks she was.

The detective clicks his pen while waiting for her to finish, the incessant noise making her eye twitch. Vanessa has to hold back the sharp words about to roll off of her tongue that so desperately want to tell the man to shut the fuck up.

“I’m sorry Detective, that’s all that happened, really. I was walking to work and it blew up in front of me. I’m just so relieved that none of my team was there, it could have ended so much worse.” The diplomatic answer rolls off of her tongue so smoothly that she almost believes it herself.

Vanessa doesn’t know why she holds back on mentioning the woman - she can easily describe her to the police and give them a potential lead. But something is off. The woman doesn’t fit in the picture. The way she grabbed Vanessa was as if she knew the explosion was about to happen, sure. But then why would she protect her?

The detective fixes Vanessa with a stare, searching her eyes for any evidence that she’s lying. He doesn’t find it, judging by the way he thanks her and turns back to his notes.

She lets out a breath, turning her gaze back towards the building. Or at least, where it used to stand. She knows she’s lucky, that the team is lucky. They didn’t lose data; backups of plans and budgets and work for the campaign saved online in the cloud.

Still, she’s now lost her base in an explosion that definitely was not an accident. She almost lost her life.

Her run for congress is her baby - it’s what she’s been working towards for almost her entire adult existence. Years of dead-end jobs, living paycheck to paycheck on meagre wages, waiting for her turn to burst onto the scene and make an impression. This year has finally been her chance.

It’s clear, though, that someone doesn’t want it to happen. She’s big enough of a threat.

Part of her wants to run, to quit the race with her tail between her legs and go back to a life of anonymity. Vanessa pushes the thoughts down. She doesn’t falter. She hasn’t in the past, and she won’t now. Good fucking luck to anyone trying to stop her.

When Silky hangs up the phone and comes up to her to provide more details around her extra security, Vanessa doesn’t argue. She can handle some suits surrounding her in order to keep pushing forward. Let the bastards who attempted to kill her try again. She doesn’t go down that easy.

Maybe the blonde will reappear, saving her life once more. At least she’ll be able to catch her fucking name next time.

The next few days are chaos as they’re caught up in a media storm, her publicist Ra’jah fielding never ending calls from news outlets that need Vanessa’s perspective on the attempt on her life. Vanessa provides diplomatic statements in interviews, droning on about how grateful she is for the public’s support and how she’s more committed than ever to the campaign.

Vanessa sits back on a couch as A’keria directs the various team members and volunteers assembled in the latter’s living room, which over a few days has transformed into makeshift campaign headquarters. She’s willing to let her campaign manager take the lead for now and get them moving forward. She’s fucking exhausted.

Silky drops onto the couch next to Vanessa after A’keria finishes speaking, nearly knocking files out of her hands.

“Jesus, Silky.”

Silky ignores her and instead gestures to two men in suits that are standing in front of them. “These are the lovely knights in shining armour who will be part of your security detail. Hopefully they’ll keep you from going kaboom.”

Vanessa’s mouth turns up in a wry smile. Silky may be crass, but she is funny. The dark humour feels necessary at a time like this, and it’s something that her college friend and now deputy campaign manager is always able to channel.

Vanessa sticks out a hand for each of them to shake, to which they oblige without any change in facial expression. Both have handshakes that could stand to be stronger. Not quite off to the best start.

“If you try to run from them, I will come after your ass. So behave.“

Vanessa snorts at Silky’s faux threatening tone. “Why, you don’t think that they can keep up with me?”

“No, I think they can. I just think that you’re too good at getting yourself into…explosive situations.” Silky wiggles her eyebrows as Vanessa grabs for a couch cushion and smacks her with it. “Ow, bitch!”

“God Silk, still too fucking soon.” Silky is the only person that Vanessa wouldn’t immediately fire for such a stupid and morbid pun. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” Silky ducks the next time that Vanessa lifts up the cushion. “Ha, missed that time. Anyway, let these nice men follow you around. The only time, actually, that you should let men follow you around.”

Vanessa tries to ignore the men indeed close behind her as she heads home from A’keria’s place a couple of hours later. She regrets walking instead of taking an Uber, the crowds on the busy downtown street positively stifling as she keeps her head down and pushes through them.

She needs sleep. Or maybe a bath. Perhaps both, to prepare for the press conference that Ra’jah has scheduled for her tomorrow. Vanessa can already hear Ra’jah’s voice in her ears berating her for inevitably losing her temper at a journalist. It happens at least once every time, no matter how hard she works to keep her emotions in check. It’s what the public loves, though, her ability to call others out when she needs to.

Sure, it’s made her quite a few enemies. But none of them have tried to kill her…Oh, wait.

Vanessa has to hold in a snicker while coming up to a busy intersection. Silky’s stupid sense of humour is starting to rub off on her.

She wonders if she should feel more afraid, rather than immediately jumping to gallows-esque jokes. Shouldn’t she be worried about her safety, after almost getting killed?

Vanessa knows she’s not invincible. She knows her size, and that there are bigger dogs out there who could probably crush her if they wanted to - both literally and figuratively. She’s not stupid.

It doesn’t mean she has to give in, though, to fear and anxiety and worry about those trying to intimidate her. Sure, the consequences are higher than a simple school bully trying to push her into a locker. She’s just not ready to go down without a fight.

She just needs a plan, her team can’t only be on the defensive, they need to show their strength-

A woman. Tall, blonde. Separated from Vanessa by a few people on the sidewalk.

The woman turns her head as she reaches into her bag, side profile instantly recognizable. Vanessa’s seen that face, she knows that face-

“Wait! You!”

The woman freezes for a second before she turns her face away abruptly, disappearing into the crowd. She’s fast. But so is Vanessa.

Apologies tumble from her lips as she pushes her way through the overcrowded sidewalk, leaving her security detail behind as she tries to follow the blonde ponytail that’s so painfully close, only a few meters if she could just reach-

“What the hell?”

The woman is gone. Vanessa looks around wildly as she tries to catch her breath, stretching up on her toes and straining her neck because there’s no way the woman could have disappeared that fast without a trace. She saw her - the same woman who she spilled her fucking coffee on and who grabbed her during the blast and then disappeared without a trace, vanishing into nothing. Just like now. Vanessa’s sigh in frustration is strangled.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The two men acting as her security detail catch up to her, trying and failing to hide their wheezing breaths.

She brushes them off. “I’m fine. Did you see…have you seen…never mind.”

There’s no point. She’s gone again. Vanishing like a fucking ghost who has developed a penchant for stalking her.

Vanessa had started to doubt her memories about the woman the more she thought about her, if she even existed at all. The office explosion had happened early in the morning after all; maybe she had been half asleep and still dreaming.

Standing stock still at a busy intersection and ignoring the small crowd forming (“Is that Vanessa Mateo?” ) as she cranes her neck and tries in vain to spot her, Vanessa comes to three conclusions.

One: the woman is real, not just a fabrication of her mind attempting to make sense of the explosion.

Two: she’s fucking involved in this whole mess, there’s no doubt. Vanessa needs to find out how.

Three: for the second time, she had been nearly in Vanessa’s reach, so tantalizingly close.

Vanessa needs to get to her.

All she can think about is the flick of the woman’s blonde hair, the long legs with the infuriating ability of helping her escape not once, but twice.

She ignores the rational part of her brain that is screaming at her about safety and having others involved for backup. The woman fucking saved her life, for Christ’s sake. She wouldn’t kill her. Or at least, not right away. Vanessa is good at talking herself out of situations.

Besides, this time, she’s going to have a plan.

Two can play at this game.  

“What the hell are you setting up a camera for?” A’keria’s voice is tired as she looks at Vanessa, who is fiddling with the device outside A’keria’s apartment building.

Vanessa doesn’t look up as she positions the camera between the leaves of a flower arrangement. “Just being careful, is all.”

“Don’t be getting all paranoid on me.”

“What’s wrong with some extra security?”

“Look.” Akeria’s face softens. “We’ve got you, okay? We’re not going to have a repeat of the office anytime soon if we can help it.”

Vanessa nods, waving her off. She ignores the sigh that she can hear falling from A’keria’s lips as she walks away.

Perhaps it’s a blessing that A’keria is mistaking her behaviour as a reaction to the explosion of the office. How the hell is she supposed to explain that she’s trying to catch a woman who has been haunting not only her thoughts, but her whereabouts too?

She didn’t tell A’keria about the woman after the explosion either, the same way she didn’t tell the police detective. Her brain had been too fuzzy to do so at the time, and each passing day makes her want to keep the situation to herself.

A’keria wouldn’t get it. She’d tell Vanessa that her mind is playing tricks on her, that the woman on the street afterwards was just a lookalike. That there is no way there is something fishy about her.

So what if Vanessa wants to keep it to herself? She doesn’t need a team to fucking find out what is happening once and for all. She’s going to find out on her own, and has all the backup she already needs. The woman isn’t going to know what hit her - quite literally.

Find me at @plastiquetiaras.

[ramblingpillager-blog]

Fragged Empire: Holding onto the dark

It would be cliche to say that one moment changed everything in her life, but when the cliche is true you have to wear it, even if it’s tired and worn. 

BlazeTM couldn’t have told you what exactly had transpired during the few confused moments of shouting and grabbing and hauling and running that happened around her after the Admiral’s bullet exposed into her left eye socket and past the rest of her head. A forgivable oversight given the pain and ringing in her ears and fireworks inside her brain.

The loaner gunship they’d hauled up to the northern wastes of Centauri Prime for this goddamned mission came with standard vid surveillance installed, and Mo had kept the cameras running during the gunfight.  Later, once things were a little calmer, the crew had crowded around and watched the silent footage in equal silence. Billye backed it up and watched it twice more, not for his own heroics - which were beautiful in their simian fluidity - but because first, he wanted to confirm the actual timeline of events, and second, because he wanted to confirm with his own eyes the actions of a man he would have otherwise considered someone to admire. 

Griffen and the other Kaltoran who had only recently found herself among their crew watched once. Once was enough. They’d seen enough fighting not to need confirmation of the details they’d lived through. 

And briefly, the details were this: a routine drop job had turned into a sidewars shit-blizzard, and the person who’d born the brunt of the bad luck of it was normally the one who could talk or buy her way past Lady Fortune’s whims. 

It’s not like they were a particularly cozy team, but one thing could be said for anyone who decided to crew up under Blaze’s headship: the money was good, the tech was great, and the outcomes assured. But the dice rolls of the Universe always evened themselves out. Good luck never lasted forever. You just didn’t expect all the dice rolls to go ass over heels on your at one time. 

The medbay at the Castra field hospital was well-staffed and well-stocked. CORP entities liked to hire Legion to be their muscle, so plenty of credits poured into the facility to ensure everyone was feeling like working whenever they were needed. Thus it was that Dr. Barin, a CORP man with a solid medical school history and more than a few years of emergency care on his resume, found himself in charge of one of the worst battle wounds he’d seen in a long time. 

“Rebecca....” The doctor waited while BlazeTM swam slowly toward consciousness. He’d put her into a coma while they assessed the damage and got the slug out of her shoulder. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure she’d respond to her birth name. “Rebecca, you’re in a hospital. My name is Dr. Frank Barin. Please lie still, there’s no point in trying to move around. We’ve got you sedated, but you should be able to think clearly for the next few minutes.” A hiss of a stim let BlazeTM know that her consciousness was at the mercy of a standard combat medicine drug that would wear off as soon as her pain threshold got too high. 

She struggled to form words around the thick slab of her tongue which didn’t seem to get the message that the upper was giving to the rest of her mind. The doctor motioned for an orderly to give her some water, and waited for her to find her bearings. 

“So I guess that shot to the face was as bad as it felt? ... Oh, and don’t call me Rebecca. I haven’t heard that name in 15 years and I don’t intend to start using it now.  BlazeTM is the only name that matters.” 

“Fine. BlazeTM, you suffered two significant injuries. The first was a bullet to your shoulder, which amazingly did less tissue damage than it should have. Your body armor was good tech. It held together, for the most part. But you took a critical shot to the face. The assault round entered your skull on from your left side, shattered your left eye and socket, broke your nose, exited in front of your right eye, and then exploded. Just like the delay-shells are supposed to do, which is why any sensible planet should ban them. 

BlazeTM was still. Very still. She heard blood in the veins next to hear ears pound like rivers. She started counting backwards from twenty, forcing herself to match her breathing to the slow pace of her counting. Dr. Barin waited till she exhaled at “one.” 

“BlazeTM, you should know a couple things. First, I’ve watched the vid from your ship’s cams, and you owe your life to the Legion who picked you up and hauled you aboard your ship. I think you should know that. Second, you are victim to perhaps the worst luck I’ve ever seen in a battle wound. You turned your head at the last second, perhaps because someone shouted, and that sent the projectile through your left eye and past your right. I couldn’t save your left eye - the tissue was shredded and burning. In fact, you suffered a severe burn to that side of your face, but we have excellent skin graft tech installed here, and the scar will be minimal after you heal. 

“Nevertheless, I’m afraid your natural sight is gone in that eye, at least for now. I believe it may be a good candidate for an advanced synthetic implant, if you’re willing to go cyber. Your crew tells me you have no cyber implants that they know of, and your medical records and scans confirmed this. So you might be inclined to reject this offer, but I’d like you to hear me out first. You can’t use a chop shop for this - your left optic nerve was too badly damaged to accept any of the basic implants. But at a mainframe hospital on Alabaster -- they’re doing some amazing work with augmented reality and sight. I think one of the deeper brain implants would give you a ‘sense of sight’ on that side.”

He paused to see if BlazeTM had anything to ay. She didn’t. She’d always been one to take her bad news straight. Besides, the doctor’s account had triggered her memory. Those weren’t nightmares she’d slept through, she realized. It was reality. The ringing in her ears, the smell of burnt flesh, the hammer of pain that had throbbed through her skull just before everything went black and she couldn’t remember any more. 

“All right. That was the worst news. Moving to your right eye, you have a decision to make. It is because of this that I wanted to wake you. I realize this wasn’t the conversation you’d hoped to have, but we need to act fast if there’s something we should do. 

“I am optimistic that you could walk out of here in a month with cyber-sight, if you are willing to choose it. I’m also duty-bound to tell you that there could be an option for regrowing your right eye via Nephilim biotech process. However, the nearest Nephilim installation is a full weeks’ flight from here, even on the fastest ship, and almost no one is willing to turn down the chance to cyber sight now to become one of those ... experiments.”  BlazeTM felt the projection of the taste of the word in Dr. Barin’s mouth. To him, the idea was foul, bitter.

But the mention of the Nephilim jolted her toward something.... important.... that was near the edge of the back of her brain...  She fought the drugs to access all of her thoughts. 

Lying, on the snow, cold. Dark. Blood sticky on my face. Skin on fire. Resignation. Whole job had gone shit sideways and the dump fell on me. Ironic but justified, maybe, in some twisted view of the world. 

Wait. That voice inside her head. Clear, distinct, and deep. That wasn’t her. A buzzing in her ears. Telepathy. What? ‘Child, you are dying. I warned you this would happen - that you would come to a hard place, and I would give you a hard choice. That time has come. No one will fault you if you give up and die. But I will see you as the coward you are. Or you can accept my offer of life, but the price will be dear. You will repay me with interest such that even your Corp ancestors would blush.’

‘So, Rebecca Blazer, what shall it be?’ She felt the hand before her mind saw it, unnaturally formed but reaching toward her. It took her only a moment to decide that she’d live, if only to see Maximilian grovel at her feet before she ground her boot in his face. 

Dr Barin had moved beside her, checking bandages and wraps. “BlazeTM, I just need you to give me the okay and I’ll schedule you for implant surgery in two days. It’ll take some work to adapt to the cybernetic sight, but you’ll learn fast. Some people even find that --”

“No.” She managed to catch his arm and held it with as firm a grip she could muster. “No, doctor, I do not want implants. I want to go to the Nephilim.”

“Look, BlazeTM, I realize you’re not a fan of cyber, but this is foolish. There’s zero guarantee that the Nephilim process will work. And what’s more, this is a crossroads. If you opt for the biotech, I will have to lay in skin grafts over your eye sockets to leave them something to work with. There’s a strong chance your optic nerves will simply whither in transit. Once they’re gone, the only implants you could use will leave you nearly sightless, locked into a flow of low-grade optical data. You cannot be serious.  

“Not to mention, if you cannot reach the Nephilim installation in time, the skin grafts will heal and you’ll be left... well.... without anything where your eyes used to be. And most species don’t handle that very well.” 

“I have my reasons,” BlazeTM answered. Her voice was flat, emotionless. Resolute.

“I have to insist on a second opinion. Perhaps you should consult with your crew. They know you, know your history, maybe understand why you are unwilling to take the obvious step.” 

“No. Tell them I have good reason for my decision. Tell Billye... tell him I saw The Prophet. Tell him exactly that. He’ll understand.  And tell them to get ready to jump to hyperspace as soon as you can get me off this godforsaken hellhole excuse for a shit-ass mortherfucking planet. Make sure you use each of those words in exactly that order.”