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virgil-writes · 3 years ago

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 10 - ashes and soot

SFW, around 4K words.

He followed her into the house while trying his hardest not to laugh. She seemed satisfied with her own answer, hoped that it would quell his questioning. Her pacing was erratic once they made their way inside, all manners of ice-breakers and harmless comments flung at him in a very obvious, desperate attempt to divert his attention. It was the first time he saw her lose her composure, fumble with her words, a bead of sweat on her brow as she tried to hide her nervousness. It was hardly a difficult question - did she mean to keep her identity a secret?

The house looked much the same as it did yesterday, perfectly tidy and beyond cozy. The dog pushed past him when he lingered on the door’s threshold, lazily walking towards his spot in front of the fireplace. It tossed and turned for a few moments, finally curling up into a ball, not at all concerned with human matters. Heisenberg approached to see there was no bubbling stew this time, no cauldron over the fire, his stomach grumbling in response. Amidst her anxiety she had taken a moment to ask him to take off his boots as he came in, a casual wave of her hand signaling when she would not face him. The weather had warmed up a bit overnight and the snow had melted some. She would prefer it if he left the mud outside, she explained as she brought over a pair of woolen slippers that were definitely too big for her feet. They looked handmade, but brand new, a sober color that wouldn’t show dirt and matched his usual color scheme. Did she… Prepare for his return?

“I meant your real name,” was his first attempt at prying the truth out of her. He obliged to her request, removed one damp boot and then the other, looking down to slide into the house slippers that, he was convinced, had been made especially for him. “Don’t much care for what the villagers like to call you.”

Heisenberg left the iron pot at the end of the table, trying his best to ignore the sensation of walking on a cloud in those fuzzy slippers. She remained quiet, watched him carefully, as if weighing her options and deciding on the best course of action. He made his way to the couch, grabbing an embroidered cushion before plopping himself down unceremoniously, toying with the stitches on the fabric with his dirty gloved hands. It was as comfortable as he had imagined, comfortable enough to make any of Alcina’s fancy chairs envious. His other arm placed on the backrest, he spread his legs to make himself at home, wiggling his butt almost imperceptibly to seal the deal. He might be having the time of his life, but she for once trembled under his watchful eye.

“I’m afraid that I cannot give you, my lord.” She said at last, her confidence building up after her momentary stumble. He caught the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “I have lost it long ago, in a faraway land whose name slips my mind.” He quite liked the hint of drama - a woman after his own heart -, but the charade would have to end sooner or later.

“So you’re telling me you’ve lived this long without a name?” There was a pregnant pause, her hands stuck midair as she made to reach for a jar high up the shelf, as if she had never once stopped to think about it in that light. Finally, she nodded, let out an embarrassed sigh as she brought the jar of spices to the kitchen counter. “Your parents never thought to give you one?”

“They did, naturally.” Naturally - even some poor family in the back of beyond had the decency of giving their child a name. “But it was never mine.” She finally turned to him, defeated, eyes pointed towards the gaps on the floor, the ones on the ceiling, the candles on the shelf. Anything to avoid his gaze, anything to get this topic over with as soon as possible. For a moment he wondered if this, too, was nothing but a clever way to manipulate him, to have him look kindly upon her. Heisenberg gestured for her to continue, cigar between his fingers, genuinely intrigued by this messed up human being that interested him so, even if she was trying to play him for a fool. “They had lost a daughter before me - Mihaela, she was called. A beautiful girl of ashen blonde hair who never came to see her tenth winter - consumption took her before then.” Her voice was velvet smooth, charming as a storyteller’s should be. “When they found a sickly girl lost in the forest, they felt like God had answered their prayers, returned their most precious gift to her rightful place. I never did look the part, much to their disappointment.” What she said next he could barely hear: “A dead girl’s name for a lifeless girl.”

If it was all a ploy, she was an actress worthy of praise. There was something about the way that her eyes seemed to lose color, her smile turn ever so slightly downwards, that told him she had opened her heart and let him in, entrusted him with knowledge she had been unwilling to part with. Heisenberg found himself averting her eyes without meaning to; not because he felt uncomfortable, not because her story brought back memories. It was a way to relieve her, to allow her breathing room. His presence seemed to burden her, compel her to say more than she ever meant to. It was a courtesy he was sure she would repay in kind.

“It was never mine, but it made them happy. It was the least I could do.” He looked around to try and find any evidence that someone had lived there with her, before her. No picture frames, no yellowed embroidered designs. No knick-knacks that looked too old for a woman her age, no shoes or clothing that hinted at anyone else having set foot inside her home. If Mihaela had truly existed, there was no trace of her left behind. “I much prefer being called what I am.”

Being called was she is, he mused, a multitude of words jumping at him within a moment’s thought. Alluring, Appealing, Beautiful; Charming, Exquisite, Fascinating; Gorgeous, Ravishing, Stunning; Sinister, Mysterious, Divine.

“Well, if you ask me,” he took one last drag of his cigar before putting it out on the ceramic ashtray that hadn’t been there the night before. “That just means we get to find you a new one. I could certainly think of a few words to describe you. I’ll even let you throw a few at me. What do you say?” The challenge in his voice seemed to revitalize her spirit, fire and defiance in her eyes when she placed her hands on the tabletop. “Doll.” Her face contorted in disgust at his first attempt, but that was not what he was looking for. No, he wanted to see her cheeks flush, her breath catch. He wanted something uniquely theirs, reserved for their little rendezvous on cold winter nights such as these. Something that would bind him forever in her mind, so that he could forge loyalty out of her with curiosity for an anvil and charm for a hammer. “Honey bun.” Nothing.

“Sweetheart.” She made her first try, eyebrow raised. Not a scratch. He had expected more of her. “Snickerdoodle.” Gross, but not close enough.

Through dears and darlings and sugarplum and buttercup she stood an impenetrable fortress, even having the gall to mock him and use the words against him in a sickeningly sugary voice. He visibly cringed when she reached a new low with stud muffin; her eyes filled up when her laughter turned to tears after she sent him reeling by calling him her cuddle bear.

They had both been struggling to catch their breath when all merriment seeped out of him, replaced by a burning feeling of disgusting, reprehensible sincerity. For once he had let go of the joe, for once he had let his guard down and the dark corners of his mind do the talking. A lapse in judgment, he would come to chastise himself later, but he could not deny he had begun to see her differently then. It had dawned on him that he had long abandoned the desire to kill or bind her, the turn of events so quick in the brief twenty-four hours they had known each other for. When he opened his eyes he did not see a tool or a weapon, a menace or nuisance; he saw a woman whose laughter brought him joy, who looked wonderful when she replaced the mask of sorrow with a candid smile. He saw someone who could sit with him by the furnace turned fireplace at his quarters in the factory, who could listen to him ramble and not understand a thing but not mind it at all. Someone who could talk away his worries, distract him from his problems. Someone who could pet his hair as he laid with his head on her lap after a long day, who could hold his hand and ground him when the worst of the nightmares came. Worst of all, someone who would, if he gave them both a chance. The word slipped unbidden, a final blow dealt to both of them:

“Liebchen.”

Liebchen, like father would call mother when they thought no one could hear them, when times were better and tragedy had not engulfed them. When he would tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and pull her into a tight embrace that promised everything would be fine. It always made her smile, Karl remembered, and he wished one day he would find someone for whom he could do the same.

It frightened him to see the honesty in his voice reflected in her eyes, how it had pulled on something deep within both of their hearts. They both fell silent as they digested the tension that floated above them, his words both his declaration and his admission, her unguarded expression her own in return. They were under no illusions of what it all meant, he told himself; there were no dreams of a happily ever after together, no plans of eloping and living out their immortality while holding hands. There was no love at first sight, no uncontrollable passion, unconditional devotion. But there was an openness neither had felt in many years of solitary existence, a baring of souls in the comfort of their laughter. They would keep each other at arms’ length and never speak of it, he knew, although he felt it would be impossible to ignore the feeling that they had found the safe harbor they had long given up looking for.

Now was definitely not the time to unpack all that.

She was the first to recover, a click of her tongue too little time to prepare him for the worst that was yet to come. “Silver fox.” He mockingly heaved as he turned away, letting her have her fun, allowing her to trample on the sentimental standstill at his expense. If it had lingered any longer, he feared one of them would explode into a pile of sugary mush.

“I brought you something, pumpkin.” He said once their laughter died down, approached the dining table where she still stood, suddenly all too aware that the damn slippers were warm and comfortable. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours, right?” Heisenberg reached inside the pocket close to his chest to pull out the knife he had spent the afternoon carefully forging, the details far more delicate than the work he was used to. He slid it over to the other side of the table and she caught it a moment later, a wide smile on her face, fingers tracing over the carvings on the handle. It was made of steel, naturally, the relief of a horse and horseshoe, flowers adorning the space around it. His house’s crest, a little bauble so that she would always remember him. He doubted she would forget him anytime soon, anyway - he was quite the character. “Should be better than… Whatever it is you were using before.” He went over to the kitchen counter to fish her old knife out of a ceramic jug, inspecting it closely. The craftsmanship was admirable, masterfully done intricate designs on the burnt wood of the handle. “Bone?” She nodded, still admiring the blade in her hands. He did not imagine gifting a deadly blade to a woman could thrill her so, but she was definitely anything but common.

He just hoped his little display of goodwill was not a ritual binding of souls in marriage in the eyes of some forgotten god.

Heisenberg looked around the house more closely: witch was definitely the right way to describe her. A piece of twine hung from the ceiling, an assortment of herbs and flowers left to dry long before winter had come. The few pots and pans she owned were stacked on a shelf, next to cups and bowls, plates and saucers. Most of it ceramic, some of it wood, the odd one made of cast iron that looked ancient, but was in good shape. A basket of grains, a barrel of produce, an empty milk jug beside the wood stove. The curio was practically a fossil and had lost its glass panes, books of all sorts organized inside it, as well as mysterious flasks with drawings he couldn’t make out. Mortar and pestle made of dark gray stone containing something fragrant, half burnt candles with various motifs carved on them. The rug was a patchwork of animal pelts, visibly sewn by hand with care and precision. It made sense, he supposed, that she seemed to make everything from scratch; no one had ever seen her around the village, neither to visit nor to trade, and if she truly was as old as she claimed to be, modern life was but a distant thought for her.

“Anything in here that you don’t make yourself?” He asked when his curiosity got the better of him, and she answered by showing him the back of her hand, the red nail polish all too apparent in contrast to her skin. There was a childish smile on her face, as if she was betraying something with that small action. The piece de resistance of modern times in her anachronistic little world.

“This is a beautiful gift, my liege.” She curtsied as she spoke, her movements slow but fluid. That, he concluded, was what amused him so, how she seemed to move without ever touching the ground. The airiness in her step made her look like the picture of happiness, of carefree living; one had but to look at her closely to see that her burdens were many, her soul tainted with poisons unknown, and the she seemed to enjoy the wickedness of it all. He could forget his problems and watch her strut forever, wish that he, too, felt willing and able to let himself be, to let his body and mind run free without a care in the world. His little witch in the woods stopped her dance-like pacing then, suddenly serious as she watched him. “But I am afraid you will have to stay for dinner.” She followed suit when he burst out laughing, throwing himself once more on the couch and resting his feet on a nearby stool.

“Planning to fatten me and eat me, you little minx?” His face turned jokingly serious, head moving left and right as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I don’t think I can fit in that tiny cauldron of yours.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that look,” she began, turning her back to him to dedicate her attention to the slabs of meat that needed cutting and the pans that needed scrubbing. “Dinner time is sacred, you know. Besides,” the mischief in her eyes mingled with something else when she turned to look at him, that sense of affection foreign to him that they had shared not long ago. “You are a sturdy man.” The word had been used against him before, a reprimand when he had settled into a life of comfort after he returned from the overseas. “Have to keep the meat on those bones.” She pointed and shook the knife at him as she spoke. There was something in the tone of her voice that made him feel like an unruly child; she seemed to know how little he cared for himself, how little effort he put into keeping his body up and running from one day to another. “An empty sack can’t stand upright.” As if to finish making her point, she brought the cutting board over to the wood stove, a mountain of cut pork sliding into the pan that smelled of onions, garlic and all manner of spices he would never recognize. He certainly wouldn’t complain, he thought to himself with a snicker. “I hope the stew was to your liking.”

The best thing he had had since the summer of 1931, when his mother was allowed to splurge on ingredients and baked them a cake so delicious he would never forget it. “Jury’s still out,” was what he retorted instead. “Need to run some more tests.” She seemed happy with his response.

Dinner was quiet in the best of ways. The menu tonight was fried pork and creamy, cheesy polenta, served with a side of vegetables and fresh-baked bread. It was simple, filling, and better than anything he had tried before. He could get used to this, he caught himself thinking once more. He glanced upwards towards the mezzanine while they ate, wondering if there was room for a broad man of considerable stature in her almost dwarf-sized bedroom - the couch wouldn’t hold him. Easier than walking here every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, like he intended to do whenever possible.

His mother had been a “mash everything together and season it with salt” kind of person, aside from the rare moments of inspiration that overtook her, and Mother never cooked for them. He had grown used to quantity over quality, his meals more of an obstacle than a moment to catch a break and enjoy himself. He has to resist the urge to gobble everything down in a couple of mouthfuls like he is used to doing, food finished within five minutes so he could return to his work. She treats dinner like time is of no concern, savors every chunk and every spoonful, but doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of manners, his clumsy way of holding the silverware. It feels awkward at first, her treating his presence like it was familiar. Familiar, that was the word, she had taken him in without question, even though she knew who he was, probably had an idea of the things he’d done. She had taken him in and he had done the same though he would not like to admit it. Was she afraid of him at all? She should be.

“So tell me, sugar plum,” Heisenberg began as she rose to put the dishes in the sink. The witch returned with a pot and two small cups, the smell of coffee filling the air. “You this friendly to everyone? Not afraid some evil monster is going to barge in here and besmirch your reputation?” She chuckled at his words; whether because she feared nothing or because she no longer had a reputation to smear he did not know.

“Not to everyone, no.” For a moment, all one could hear was the crackling of the logs in the fire, and the liquid hitting the glass. “Only to those who don’t run away.”

The coffee was bitter and brewed to perfection - that is, as far as his knowledge of coffee beans went. He always found the beverage too time consuming to make on a daily basis, especially when one-liter bottles of energy drinks were always at hand. If he ran out, he could always turn to instant coffee: cold, burnt and disgusting. He couldn’t think of a better combination for someone like him.

“Why would anyone want to run away from you, beautiful?” He offered with a charming smile, and she looked at him like he had grown a third arm. Had he lied? She was beautiful, nice and kind, to boot. How had she managed to stay hidden for so long?

“Well, I suppose it has something to do with the goat-deer hybrid monster, the quiet of the forest and the impaled heads at the tree line.” Her tone was nonchalant and sarcastic. Why yes, that made sense. Heisenberg nodded in agreement. To a random, god-fearing villager, she would be the equivalent of the Antichrist. It was surprising to know some still sought after her, often enough that tales of her were spun and shared among the locals. It was more surprising still that news of her existence had never reached dear Mother, the riffraff tight-lipped because of a witch who seemed to go against everything they stood for.

“Eh, seen worse,” was his only response. Would she still treat him as kindly if she knew he could turn into a giant metal monster with even deeper seated anger issues? Would she welcome him in with a warm smile if she knew that he dug up and dismembered the corpses of the recently deceased to perform sordid experiments? She smiled as if she did. Who, for fuck’s sake, was she? “You some kind of mythical creature?” She shook her head no, though she reminded him of legends of witches living deep within the woods, sometimes in houses made of sweets, sometimes bearing chicken legs. Or maybe she was a fairy that danced naked under the moonlight, tiny bells tied around her ankles. “Immortal entity?” Another negative, though there was a second of hesitation that did not escape his notice. “A goddess then? Oh, I would love to worship at your shrine, honey.” He finished with a wink, drank the last of his coffee. Your move, gorgeous.

“Nothing but blood and pain in this temple,” To his surprise, her expression is serious, something he had never truly seen before, as she sighed and gestured to herself. “Is it not enough for your lordship that I am your friend?” Her voice is serene but her words sharp. “What more do you need me to be? Name it, and it will be so.” Powerful, he needed her to be powerful, strong, resilient, loyal to a fault. He needed her to stand by his side as the only one he would trust, to aid him in overthrowing the tyrant he was forced to call a mother. He needed her because try as he might to keep going, he was running out of options, out of hope. He didn’t need her friendship, he reminded himself, tried to convince himself. What he needed was to enchant her and control her. “I certainly appreciate the compliment, though I would dare say we are quite incompatible, my lord.” The woman who spoke to him now was no longer the kind lass he’d had dinner with. She was poised, guarded, cold and distant. “Little blood witch in the woods, sturdy metal man in his factory. Wood and steel. Ashes and soot. What good would that be?”

“The way I see it, pumpkin,” he rose from his seat to make his way out the door, having overstayed his welcome and stepped too far. The analogy hits him like a stroke of genius, the missing puzzle piece in his plan as the curtains draw and he exits the stage. “We’d make a damn good axe.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #eeeeeeeeeh #virgil writes

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lauwrite1225 · 4 years ago

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There’s something in your eyes. || Alexander Stewart x OC

PART 1.

For the sake of Scotland, Eileen Douglas is to marry the young Alexander Stewart, a marriage none of them wanted.

Eileen was standing perfectly right on the stairs of Bothwell Castle. Her mother snapped her hand when she tried to pull the skirt of her dress, trying to make herself more comfortable in her tight corset.

“Don’t fuss.” Her mother glared at her and Eileen had to do her best to not roll her eyes.

Instead she kept staring at the horizon where horsemen were approaching. She could count ten, all wearing the Stewart tartan. The closer they were, the more she could notice her brother William’s face twist with disgust. The small group passed the gates and her father walked down the stairs quickly to welcome them. A first man climbed down from his horse graciously. He had a huge smile on his face as he saluted her father, but it seemed to repulse William even more as he mumbled curses in Gaelic. The two men walked toward them and Eileen felt her mother’s hand in her back, prompting her to climb down the stairs. When she found herself face to face with Stewart she offered him her most beautiful smile, one her mother could be proud of after teaching her how to look pleased even when she wasn’t. But she hadn’t to fake it that much, the man in front of her actually seeming sympathetic.

She grabbed the skirt of her dress and lightly curtseyed. “Duke.”

“Lady Eileen. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He smiled.

“The pleasure is shared.” And she could easily imagine the thunder in her brother’s eyes as she spoke.

A Douglas having to meet a Stewart was never for pleasure. Both clans hated each other for generations and even more since the Douglas decided to betray King James IV. Eileen was just a bairn when her uncle planned his alliance with the English King, but somehow, she became the symbol of the peace between the two clans. As well for the man she would marry. It was King James’ decision that she would marry his cousin, the Duke of Albany’s younger brother, and as she detailed the young Duke’s expression, she thought maybe the Stewarts weren’t the turds William liked to call them.

“Let me introduce you to my brother, Alexander.” The Duke stepped aside and with a wave of his hand designated a young man still holding his horse’s reins.

The younger Stewart was tall, his tartan making his shoulders even larger. With a nonchalant pace he joined them. He stopped next to his brother and Eileen and they silently judged each other. His brown eyes were similar to two endless holes so gloomy were they. His hair was as dark and seemed unruleble while a thin and uncertain beard started to cover his jaws and cheeks.

"Lady Eileen." He muttered, saying her name seemed to be a great effort for him.

This time, her smile couldn't be faker. "Lord Stewart." She replied, pronouncing each syllable as she was spitting to his face.

Their interaction didn't last longer, her father inviting them to enter the castle to eat. The meal was rather calm, John Stewart being almost the only one speaking. He seemed pretty comfortable and even happy to be here, as if he wasn’t at the same table as former traitors. William liked to claim that what their uncle did was for the good of Scotland, that Stewarts were just a lineage of bastards, but Eileen knew they were the one who betrayed a King. And no matter how much William would insult the Stewarts, Douglass were the traitors.

If that fact didn’t prevent John from enjoying the lunch, she couldn’t tell the same of her betrothed. Alexander was silent, stabbing his food as a pouting child. She found it amusing, and could have even found it endearing if he wasn’t sending murderous glares at William. However, her brother wasn’t innocent , his piercing blue eyes giving back the threat gladly.

At some point, her father cleared his throat and stood up. All eyes were on him as he raised his cup. “To my daughter and her future husband.” He declared turning toward Eileen and then Alexander who had made the effort to look less unhappy, if it was even truly possible. “And may this alliance be a new beginning for our two clans.”

John stood up as well and clinked his glass with her father’s. “To a new beginning.”

…

“You are a surprisingly good company.” Eileen smiled as she walked in the garden beside Alexander. He looked down at her dubiously. “What? I like the silence.” She smirked.

He huffed and continued to walk. It was the second day the Stewarts were spending in Bothwell Castle and her mother had asked her to try to sympathize with the young man. But she found it hard to be nice with a man who wasn’t even talking to her.

"You know, we are going to be married for what is going to be a long time. Maybe we should try to at least know each other." She proposed, doing her best to not sound rude.

"I didn't want to marry." He grumbled, his foot kicking in a stone.

"See ? We have at least one common point." She smirked again.

Alexander suddenly stopped in front of her, leaning slightly over her, and she realized how taller he was compared to her. She pinched her lips, her eyes not leaving his despite how threatening they were.

"Don't you think because you're a bonny lass I'll forget you're a fucking Douglas whore."

He had barely finished his sentence, Eileen slapped his face hard. He didn't expect that, his hand rubbing his already red cheek. "I'm not a whore and do not ever call me like that or I'll cut off your balls." She warned him with a roar of her voice and she found herself satisfied at how he looked at her with wide eyes.

On these words, she exaggeratedly curtseyed before leaving him on his own. She felt her chest rise and fall ragingly, anger overwhelming her. As she walked in another part of the garden, she started to hate the whole world. She hated her uncle for starting this stupid rebellion. She hated King James for having decided to marry her to Alexander. She hated her father for having accepted it obediently. But most of all : she hated Alexander for being a prick turd.

Angry tears started to irritate her eyes and she wiped them away with her palms. She wanted to join her bedroom and cursed her all existence, but God seemed to have decided otherwise. Shouts from where she was coming from caught her attention and she started to walk back. If it was possible for her to be even more in fury, well now it was. William and Alexander were now fighting in the grass like two kids.

From the corner of her eyes, she perceived John running in their direction to separate them. The older Stewart grabbed his brother by the back of his tunic, forcing him to get up and free William.

"Can I have an explanation?" He asked his brother who was now dusting his tartan.

"He got slapped by a lass." William replied mockingly and it took all John's strength to prevent his brother from coming upon his opponent again.

"That's enough!" The Duke barked before dragging Alexander away.

Once they were gone, Eileen walked to her brother who was still sitting on the floor. He grinned at her, and she noticed he must have bitten his cheek or tongue in the fight because there was blood on his teeth.

"I don't know why you slapped him, Sister, but that's what all those bastard Stewarts deserve."

Eileen crouched in front of him, still silent before slapping him as well. William whined, his cheeks already hurting from the fight. He looked at her confusedly and she stood up. "You're as much an idiot than him."

…

Dinner was again very silent, but this time both Alexander and William kept their eyes away from each other. John as well was different, his smile more tended. Eileen wondered if her father had a word of what happened in the garden, she doubted William told him, he would have been furious and maybe he would have had another mark on his face. But she also doubted he didn't notice anything. William had his right eye swollen and his bottom lip cut while Alexander's cheek was almost violet of her slap and probably her brother's punch. Oh none of them looked proud of the incident.

After the dinner, a knock on the door interrupted the servant who had barely started untying the back of her dress. Eileen turned her head to Maggie and kindly asked her to see who it was. She tightened the loosened laces and finally walked to open the door slightly.

"Lord Stewart."

From where she stood in her bedroom, Eileen could distinguish Alexander's silhouette through the door's opening, he wasn't wearing his tartan.

"I'd like to talk to Lady Eileen." He declared. His voice was still strong but she could hear the uncertainty in it, and it made her smile.

Maggie turned around to have some sort of answer from her mistress. Eileen waved her hand and walked toward the door. "You can leave us, Maggie. Thank you."

The young servant nodded and left them after saying she would come back later. Once she had disappeared in a corridor, she crossed her arms and stared with contempt at the once more silent Alexander.

"What do you want?"

"To say that I'm sorry." He grumbled and she almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic he looked.

"Is it you who is sorry, or your brother who asked you to be ?" She asked with an annoyed raised eyebrow.

Alexander frowned. "Does it matter ?"

Eileen tilted her head, closing her eyes in exasperation. "Yes, it does."

He rolled his eyes and after rubbing the back of his neck, he finally spoke. "It's me. I'm sorry for calling you a whore."

"You are pardoned." She said, thinking that making peace with him could only be a benefit. "And you said I was bonny after all." She smirked and suddenly his face turned red of uncomfort.

And for once, he didn't look as unpleasant as usual. His eyebrows weren't furrowed and his features were rid of any tension, making him look younger. She came to the conclusion that he wasn't that bad looking with his still fascinating brown eyes. She stepped back to go back in her bedroom, but before she closed her door, she paused and with an amused smile she added :

"I am sure you have a pretty smile, Alexander."

#alexander stewart #alexander stewart x oc #the spanish princess #fanfiction #mark rowley

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darth-salem-emperor-of-earth · 4 years ago

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Day Two: A Gentle Heart For a Noble Soul [Orion x Sabina]

I’m slow with writing all of my entries for @ockissweek but eventually, I’ll get to them all, even if takes me weeks. XD

In Day 2, this story features Sabina Peg’asi, one of my Andromeda Six traveler and Orion, @julikidmxns's Dead Space OC. There’s a little bit of crossover going on but I believe I made it work. Hopefully, I portrayed your boy right, @julikidmxns! :)

Summary: He signed up to be a princess’s bodyguard to take a break from all the horrors he’d seen in space. Compared to his previous line of work, guarding royalty was small potatoes. And yet, Sabina Peg’asi was definitely not the type of royal he was expecting but now, he’d protect her to the ends of the galaxy and back. Day 2 of OC Kiss Week 2021. Prompt: Courtship. [Orion x Sabina]

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“When I love

I become liquid light.”

― Nizar Qabbani

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He never expected his next bodyguard gig would wind him up a royal palace, almost a galaxy away from his own home, but at least the job was straightforwardly easy enough and the pay was absurdly lucrative. As long as he kept his new charge safe, he would be set for life.

His new charge was a princess, a far jump from all the wealthy business people who hired him for clout and to look intimidating to all their enemies and allies. This princess was dressed in a long, slender beige and silver gown decorated with such elaborate geometric designs and needlework that Orion wondered how long it took the dressmaker to produce such an intricate (and expensive) article of clothing--if the young royal’s wardrobe was indeed handmade. Next to her, he felt severely undressed.

Resisting the urge to check his clothing for any pressed lines or wrinkles, he opted for staring ahead like a typical stoic guard and repeated the name of his charge in his head while he wanted for the princess’s mother to arrive. She was the one who contacted him about her request--albeit technically, one of her secretaries called him on the Stellar Queen’s behalf. This would be the first time he spoke to the queen, assuming she would make an appearance.

Princess Sabina Peg’asi, youngest child of King Fenris and Ta’jean, the Stellar Queen. Hopefully, you won’t be too much trouble.

Bright pink eyes stared up at him with uncertainty and Orion shifted a little in place, keeping his back ramrod straight and his expression completely neutral. Standing in such an opulent room with a young royal scrutinizing him in only a quiet, curious manner was an alarmingly drastic change to his previous stints as a mercenary, especially with some of the weird, inconceivable shit he’d seen in his line of worth and some of that included the dead coming back to life as beings even more monstrous and voidless. At least there wouldn’t be any Necromorphs lurking in the hundreds of crystal chandeliers or underneath the vivid, elaborately woven and designed rugs that probably cost more than a year’s worth of his salary. He quickly glanced down to make sure his boots were polished and clean along with no traces of scuff marks or muddy footprints on the plush carpet.

As he rose his head to face his new charge, the young princess quickly curtsied, her long navy blue braids dipping down with her while the perfectly round twin buns on either side of her head never wobbled or wavered during the slight movements. Her buttery yellow skin glowed briefly, a testament to her half-Tiljanni heritage. Her behavior confirmed Orion’s suspicion that there indeed was someone important behind him because no princess would curtsy to a bodyguard in greeting.

“Hello, Mother,” the half-Tiljanni princess greeted, only resuming her full stance after her mother boredly bid her to rise with a wave of her hand. His charge stared hopefully at her mother, a small smile gracing her slightly round and youthful features. “I’m so overjoyed to see you today!”

The Stellar Queen barely paid Princess Sabina a glance as she settled her cold, crossed gaze on Orion and crossed her arms. Several of her own guards, as well as a close confidant, and secretary, were right behind her. Silence permeated the area and just when Orion was about to introduce him and list off some of the credentials, the Tiljanni queen nodded stiffly at him and snapped her head back at her secretary, a human who appeared at least twenty years older than him.

“He’ll do. Set him up in a room near Sabina’s quarters so he can reach and protect her at a moment’s notice.”

Both of Orion’s eyebrows rose up but he uttered nothing. That was the fastest job interview he ever had his entire life. Either Queen Ta’jean read his list of qualifications and experiences or someone else did and told her about them because her mind was already made up. Besides, he had a feeling how peeved she would be if he decided to tell the Stellar Queen he had a change of heart and would not be accepting the royal family’s offer to guard one of their precious children.

Ta’jean’s secretary nodded, bowing his head. “It will be done, Your Majesty. I’ve already discussed the terms of payment to the mercenary and he is more than satisfied with the salary we assigned to the position.”

“You daughter will be in safe hands,” Orion spoke up, disliking how they were talking around him as if he wasn’t standing right there. “There is nothing I can’t handle.”

The queen shot him a bored look before adjusting the long sleeves of her dress. “I hope you’re right. Someone needs to keep Sabina on a tighter leash since she has a penchant for wandering off and letting her curiosity get the better of her.”

The said princess glided to her mother with such poise and grace Orion nearly mistook her a fairy. “That was one time, Mother, and I was horribly lost! Plus, I hadn’t seen you in weeks and I wanted to visit you.” She bit her lip at the last admission, her hands gripping the skirt of her finely wrought gown and twisting the fabric as she stared at her mother tearfully. “Last time you cancelled our private dinner. Do you think we can have some time together tomorrow?”

The Stellar Queen unleashed a heavy, burdensome sigh as she gifted her daughter an exasperated expression. “You know how busy I am lately, Sabina. Tomorrow most certainly will not work but…” She sighed again, as if she was a long suffering martyr. “But we can try at the end of this week.”

A wide, elated beam immediately stretched itself across Sabina’s soft features and her pale yellow skin seemed to illuminate from her recent joy. “Thank you so much, Mother! I can hardly wait! We have so much to catch up on!” She embraced her unwilling mother tightly, the hope in her pink eyes painfully evident. Orion’s gut twisted as he observed this uneven display of affection, of a young daughter so desperate for her mother’s attention and time that she was merrily settling for scraps of it. In the back of his mind, he wondered who he really should be protecting Sabina from: foes against the Crown or Sabina’s own family.

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Orion, her new bodyguard, was definitely easier to get along with than she first anticipated.

Besides her oldest sister Nerissa, the Crown Princess of Goldis, her only other friends were Maristela, her half-sister who was a year older than her, and Vex, a palace guard assigned to the protection of both her and Maristela but now was focused more Maristela’s safety now Orion was hired to be her personal bodyguard. It was weird having someone new follow her around, making sure she wasn’t alone with strangers, palace staff members, or even relatives (a Peg’asi could never be too careful Sabina once heard). She was so used to just having Vex be at her and Maristela’s side for so long that she forgot Vex was still essentially a palace guard instead of being her first true companion that wasn’t a blood relative.

But Orion was surprisingly easy to get along with, once she got him to open up. She could still recall his confused face when she gave him a tour of the palace, asking him he was faring in his new role, and later, inviting him to a card game with her, Maristela, and Vex. Even after her assurances he didn’t have to come if he had no desire to so, he still showed up and awkwardly sat next to her, somehow winning half of their games thanks to his mastery of emotions. Sabina observed at him through every game, vainly trying to search for a hidden tell or a crack in his distinguished, staid visage. Even his striking grey eyes revealed nothing but there was a warmth in his eyes when he congratulated on her first win. Later, Maristela teased her on how much she had been staring at her new bodyguard, her grin widening at Sabina’s flushed cheeks and vehement protests. And when she tried to explain her reasoning, Maristela simply smirked some more and bantered that she didn’t expect her to be interested in men with streaks of silver in their hair. In an uncharacteristic bout of frustration, Sabina hurtled one of her pillows at her older sister but Maristela merely dodged and kept laughing, even as another pillow hit her arm.

Despite her sister’s teasing, Sabina didn’t distance herself from Orion. Even though having a bodyguard reduced her already dwindling amount of privacy, Orion was her friend now and found ways to give her some semblance of freedom. She was always grateful for his kindness.

With a bounce in her step, she rapt on Orion’s door, hugging the books close to her chest as she swayed back and forth in anticipation for his arrival. She truly hoped he was free and in the mood to go outside. She relished spending time with him, even if he didn’t reveal a lot of details about himself.

The door cracked open and Orion’s head appeared, followed by two muscular arms as he opened the door wider once he saw Sabina was alone. Sabina’s rosy eyes roamed how some of his dark hair was parted to the side in soft waves, his full, finely groomed groom and mustache sprinkled with strands of white and grey. For a second, all words failed her and Sabina drew blank on what to say.

He peered at her curiously. “Your Highness? Is everything all right?” The hint of concern in his tone yanked her back from her trance and Sabina smiled reassuringly at him. Next time, she’ll compose herself better around him and not randomly get lost into gazing at his handsome face and kind eyes---

Focus, Sabina!

Fixing her stare at his forehead instead of his eyes, Sabina managed to finally form some words without being hopefully distracted. “Everything is just fine, Orion! And remember, you can call me Sabina when we’re out of the public eye.”

He ran a hand through his hair--it looked a little bit damp, Sabina noticed. Did he shower recently? “I’ll try to remember that, Your--Sabina. Did you need something?”

Remembering the real reason why she initially knocked on his door, the half-Tiljanni princess stood briefly on her toes as she bounced a little, unable to contain her good cheer. “Since the weather is proving to be quite pleasant and promising, I wanted to stroll along the gardens and find a nice place to read my books.” She glanced down, a sudden shyness creeping into her while her cheeks heated up. “And, well, I was wondering if I could give you a tour around the gardens. You mentioned you never witness gardens so enormous and well groomed before so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to rectify that. The flowers have bloomed perfectly!”

His mouth twitched into a small smile, the warmth in his eyes remaining. “If that is what you wish, Your High--I mean, Sabina, then let me gear up and I will escort you to the palace gardens.”

Still bouncing on her feet, Sabina beamed brightly at her minor victory. “Wonderful! I’ll be waiting in my room when you’re done. And no need to rush on my account, Orion. I have my books to keep my company until you’re ready to resume your post.”

He bowed his head at her respectfully. “Of course, Sabina.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reading in the gardens with no one but Orion standing by worked in her favor much more than she expected it too. Besides the entrance of the royal gardens, her and Orion hadn’t run into anyone from the palace, particular her siblings. The unexpected privacy pleased her, for she didn’t have to worry about anyone popping out of nowhere and rebuke her for the way she was oh so casually leaning up against Orion as she read her beginner’s medical text and snuck glances at her bodyguard to see how he was faring. He was still hard to read, something Sabina wished she could do better. Her mother wouldn’t often criticize her for how open she was with her emotions, always wearing her heart on her sleeves and trying to make friends when she should be distancing herself from everyone and analyze what they want from her.

Unbidden tears swam near the brim of her eyelids and furiously, she rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the words on the page before her and banish the last conversation she had with her mother over dinner. One that ended far too soon for her liking.

“The sooner you harden that fragile, weak heart of yours, Sabina, the better. Or else this world will chew you up and spit you back up and you won’t be able to recover from it. And I won’t be around to tell you ‘I told you so’.”

Inhaling deeply, Sabina fiercely flipped the text page, trying to ignore how blurry the text was starting to look as her treacherous eyes became watery once more. Her mother was wrong, she wasn’t weak! ...Was she?

“Next time we talk, Sabina, I hope to see evidence that you took my advice to heart.”

Her concentration evaporated, Sabina dejectedly closed the book and aimlessly stared at a rose bush across from her, drawn to all the various colors in each flower while blinking back the unshed tears. Today was a perfectly good day for her and Orion and she would not ruin the peaceful mood by crying!

Beside her, Orion shifted. Out of the corner of her eye, Sabina saw his body was pointed squarely at her. Keeping her head down, she tried dabbing her eyes and ended up sniffing a little in the process. She didn’t need to look up to see his alarmed reaction, his concern for her was practically rolling in waves.

“Sabina...what’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited to be outside, in the gardens.”

“It’s not that,” she choked out, thoroughly humiliated when a hiccup or two escaped her in the middle of her explanation. “Everything here is perfect. The weather is beautiful, you’re here, and I have some semblance of privacy, but…” Another hiccup came and several treacherous tears trickled down her cheeks.

In a flash, he in front of her, one knee on the ground and his kind grey eyes fixated directly at her, searching for any signs that caused her distress. “But what?” he gently prodded.

Shame flooded her yet Sabina couldn’t deny him. In such a short timespan, Orion became one of the very few people who understood her and when they were alone, treated her like a normal person, without a hint of judgement. If anyone could give the truth straight to her, it would be him.

“Am I weak, Orion?” she whispered hoarsely, leveling her vivid pink eyes with his grey ones reluctantly. “Am I just an useless paper doll that can't do anything right?” She reached out, searching for Orion’s hands, to hold onto something real and stable, and he complied, wrapping his gloved hands around her dainty yellow ones.

“Whoever told you that is wrong, Sabina,” he replied, not even bothering to inquire where this disparaging musing of hers came from. He most likely heard snippets of her mother’s scathing words during their private dinners when he was outside, guarding the door until Sabina was ready to return to her chambers. “You are not weak. You have more strength than you realize.”

She squeezed his hands a little for solace. “But how? I don’t have the vast knowledge or skill set like many Tiljaani have to help people nor do I know any useful things to contribute to my family or to Goldis in general! There is so much I can’t do or understand, even with an advanced royal education!”

“Your compassion is not a weakness.” The sharp edge in his tone startled Sabina but she listened, feeling herself drawn to Orion and whatever he may say next. “Don’t let anyone else convince you otherwise. There is a shortage of people with a gentle heart like yours, who just want to help and make everyone’s lives a little better. With little or no success, I’ve beheld how you try to reach out to your siblings, the ones who you hardly have interacted with, for a chance to be a real family. And even when you don’t get the result you hoped for, you try again. You’re far too determined to give up so easily.”

Her lips cracked into a tiny smile and she sniffed, trying to clear her nose while a few more tears leaked out even as she blanked them back. Her hands were still collapsed inside Orion’s and she had no desire to retract them back. She liked the way he was holding her--or her hands, in this case.

“You really think so?” she asked carefully, inwardly wincing at the temor in her voice. She slid down from her stone bench to kneel down in front of Orion, craving to be closer to him and whatever else he had to say. Maybe she was just searching for validation but his words were beginning to bring her some comfort.

He nodded his head firmly. “I do. After all, you’re one of the very few people here who went out of their way to welcome me and always wanted to know how I was doing or if I needed anything. Do you think I’ve forgotten the time when I reminisced what my favorite dish was to you and magically, the very next day, the kitchens were serving that meal to me for supper?”

“Your face seemed so wistful, so nostalgic that I just had to find a way to give a little piece of your home back to you. All I did was inform the cook of what was in the dish and she did the rest. She did all the work, not me.”

Orion’s visage was now barely an inch away from her, his sincerity blazing freely in his gaze while the corners of his eyes softened ever so slightly. “Yes, but you’re the one who listened to me and took the initiative to make me feel a little bit more welcomed and at home in this new world. No one gave you orders, you just executed that on your own.” A ghost of a smile danced on his mouth, so close to her own lips that for a fleeting second, Sabina was breathless. “That’s just one of the many reasons that make you so beautiful.”

No sooner did that admission left him, did Orion realize his slip and jerked his head back, eyes wide in alarm. Inwardly, Sabina bemoaned the loss of their proximity and with what little physical strength she possessed, she tugged him back to her before he remembered to release her hands. She was so used to his touch and how warm and safe his own hands were.

Peering up at him through her eyelashes (a trick she was glad Maristela taught her), Sabina leaned her body closer to him, saying, “You really mean all that? Even the beautiful part?”

Orion coughed awkwardly, his gaze now on their joined hands, which appeared much more romantic given to how long they were simply kneeling together, holding hands. Finally, the tension melted out of his broad shoulders as he slumped forward, as if conceding. “Yes...yes, I do. I mean every word of it.”

Her skin glowed like the sun at his confession yet Sabina hardly cared enough to notice. Instead, she leaned in nigh enough for their noses to first bump into each other before she angled her head to its side to plant a chaste but lingering kiss to his cheek. Traces of his beard tickled her skin, a sensation she enjoyed far more than anticipated. The princess thought his beard would be scratchy but its thick smoothness pleasantly surprised her.

Orion’s breathing hitched but he didn’t yank himself away from her. “Princess, Sabina, are you sure…?”

She kissed him again, this time on the lips. “I’ve never been sure of something my entire life.” Embolden, Sabina planted a third kiss on his forehead and was rewarded with an encouraging, soft smile from Orion. “Consider this a very special thank you from a very grateful and smitten princess.”

And when Orion’s hands cupped her supple, round face to dry away any remaining tears from her cheeks, he wasted no time to kiss her slowly, steadily, and full of tenderness, causing her poor heart to burst with elation while she encircled her arms around him, feeling the muscles on his back clenching momentarily beneath her fingertips. That last kiss rendered them both breathless, unable to remove themselves from each other’s arms. Sabina was content to sit there, listening to her bodyguard’s heartbeat while he absentmindedly stroked her back.

“You don’t mind that, I, er---?”

“Kissed me?” Sabina grinned as she cocked her head up to face, unable to conceal her glee. “Not at all! I hope you didn’t mind either.”

His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he tucked one of her long, thin braids behind her ear. “You don’t have to worry about me, Sabina. Unexpected as those kisses were, I enjoyed them as well.”

A coy grin spread itself across her refined features. “Then does that mean we should resume said kissing or if not, at least plan on getting back to it in the near future?”

Orion cocked one bemused brow at her, entertained by her sudden boldness. “I may not know much of Goldis customs but are you attempting to woo me, Princess Sabina?”

Her cheeks darkened by a deep blush, more evident by the vibrant illuminance from her skin. “Yes...? Do you not like that?” Her voice came out rather tentative and nervous.

Shaking his head, he let himself smile for her again prior to kissing in the center of her forehead, reassuring her that his feelings hadn’t changed or were a fabric of her imagination. “I just wonder what I did to deserve such a kind soul like you.”

“Just give me a day and I’ll have an entire book filled out on why you’re a noble, wonderful man with a caring heart, sweet eyes, and very nice beard.”

He gave his pepper speckled beard a quick stroke. “Just nice?”

Sabina pouted, crossing her arms. “Don’t tease me, Orion! I really do like your beard!”

After a few more minutes of banter and blissful enfoldments, she was due to return to the palace and get ready for one of her musical lessons. Smoothing out the creases in the chiffon fabric of her pale pink gown, complete with tiny golden stars decorating the attire from top to bottom, Sabina glanced up in time to watch Orion snap off a brilliantly crimson rose from the nearby rosebush and present the striking flower to her. He scratched the back of his head, an awkward tic of his that Sabina found to be rather endearing.

“I’m not really good at romance or know the correct steps to sweeping you off your feet, but if I’m going to secretly court you, I’m going to do this right,” he explained, looking a little self-conscious as he held out the red rose to her. “And I remember you remarking earlier in our tour of the gardens that roses are one of your favorite flowers so---”

He never got to finish his sentence. Sabina had already tossed her arms around his neck and covered him with at least a half-dozen of airy kisses, all followed by the words: “Thank you thank you, Orion!”

The next day, Sabina snuck a fresh tulip containing the same color of her rose into one of Orion’s spare holsters. After all, she shouldn’t be the only one to receive gifts in this covert courtship.

#OCKiss21 #OCKissWeek #ockissweek21 #Sabina Peg'asi #Orion Caldwell #Orion x Sabina #a6 traveler #andromeda six traveler #Dead Space #Andromeda Six #A6 #A6 game #oc kiss week #OCs #my writing #No proofreading we die like men #I was getting so giddy at the end of this ship because the royal/protector dynamic was killing me and giving me so many options for them

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 4 years ago

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Avengers Infinity War-First Time Watching Reaction Play-by-Play (Pt. 2)

Part 1

I wonder how many people Gamora has killed? What made her finally snap to not serve Thanos anymore?

How DID Gamora find it? Like, who told her?

How did Thanos capture nebula?

Poor nebula. She’s literally been through hell and back.

Ohhhh she snuck on board...

Thanos you suck so much. You favor one daughter over another.

Oh. Where was said map to the soul stone?

Gosh I feel so damn bad for nebula. She was raised as his daughter too but he tortured her and tore her apart. Nebula never had the chance to be her equal. She deserves so much.

Taught groot as an elective? What about all speak?

Buckle up rocket. It’s gonna get emotional.

Thor is literally all alone. He needs a time to sit alone and cry and break a whole building.

Rocket and Thor friends? Please

1500 years old? Jane, honey, you escaped.

Gotta give it up to Hemsworth’s acting chops here. Especially talking to nobody in reality. Just a bunch of cgi

Ew ew ew eye socket

Should have washed that yikes

Snuck it out by hiding it up your? Huh? You watch too many movies rocket.

Huge title card. Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where we were despite them saying their location many times.

How is that video game battery not dead?

Perceptive rabbit

I LOVE that they used a dwarf to play a giant character!!! This is brilliant! (And that dwarves are giant for some reason lol.)

Soooo again Thanos killed everyone EXCEPT Eitri despite his “morality” supposedly being balance

Poor hands

Poor nebula

Smart nebula

Maybe should have waited to be fixed fully first

Ah crap. SOMEONE PICK UP THE SPACE PHONE

MANTIS

Love how Stark asks for peters help in steering and not Stephen lmao

Nice parking job

Peter, stop popping pop culture refs

Lmao ITS ABOUT TO BE THE ICONIC SCENE

YES PLEASE

Blanket of Death. Capey has a new nickname.

Where’s Gamora

Who’s Gamora

Why is Gamora

What master do you serve?

Jesus?

I mean, yea I do. So does Pratt lmaoo.

LMAO PARKER’S FACE WHEN QUILL SAID THOR WASNT HANDSOME

Storm breaker time baby

“In theory it could summon the bifrost” who theorized this? How do you only theorize and not know?

Oh my gosh mantis is just bouncing around

Mr. Clean lmao

Kick names, take ass

Hey now, these guys saved the galaxy and universe from Ego so lmao

Oh no I know the scene coming up

Poor quill lmao

“I’m half human. So the 50% of me that’s stupid, that’s 100% of you.” “Your math is, blowing my mind.” What’s funny is that Quill’s math was actually completely accurate lol

Stephen having a stroke or a seizure? You good homie?

Soooo if Strange looked to the future and so possible outcomes, what does that mean for the TVA? According to them, there’s ONE sacred timeline, so all other branches are erased (which again messes up what smart hulk eventually says in end game. See kids, this is why you don’t mess with time travel in stories. There’s no way to go back in time without creating a time loop). Ehhhhh I’ll let it slide. Just ignore it... sigh... I can’t help it if I’ve studied paradoxes

Hmmmm not good odds I’ve gotta say...

Watch like, outside of the millions of realities that strange saw, there were like a million or billion more he missed where they won with no casualties lol

Hey Red Skull. Long time no see. How did he get here anyways and why?

Yea you’re prepared all right...

Gotta say, Lord Elrond has seen better days

I’m not ready to say good bye to this Gamora. Gamora and Loki and Nat go down as my favorite characters, gotta say. I know that Tony does and it’s sad, but his feels more satisfying because his sacrifice directly results in them winning. Loki is murdered. Gamora is murdered. Nat died just for a stepping stone for the avengers. She has no idea whether or not they will actually win in the end.

I’m hopeful they may bring Nat back like in the comics, red room clone style.

We got back vision, Loki (kinda), variant Gamora, a new captain America, why not Nat? Yea we have a prequel, but gosh I love her so much.

“You must lose that which you love.” Couldn’t that apply to like an object or something? Could I not throw my Nintendo switch over the cliff? Or my dog? (I would hate that just as much as a person, don’t get me wrong, I’m just curious about the rules)

Yea boohoo sad for Thanos... loses his favorite daughter. I don’t care about him. He deserves suffering.

Poor Gamora doesn’t think he’s willing to do it.. GIRL RUN!!!

Thanos deserves all the suffering.

He does love you Gamora... but that love... it’s selfish. It’s blind... Thanos seems to be a chaotic vigilante who is narrowminded, tunnel vision on his goal with no regards of the cost. But he is evil. If there is ever an alternate route to an end that doesn’t result in the loss of innocent lives, and you know that but you willingly choose the once that costs innocent lives, that is an evil decision. Maybe Thanos isn’t evil, but he’s not good. Far from it. He’s obsessed with this idyllic Utopia but he rushes to one method of getting there. Yes, people suffer. It sucks... it’s unfair... it’s horrible. But it is never the right of someone else to dictate whether or not said person would be better off dead. Who lives, who dies. If Thanos truly was neutral and not selfish, he would have thrown his own life into the mix of the potential 50/50 snap. Thanos is not good. He’s not misunderstood. He’s a murderer. A genocidal cult leader. I have no tears for him. Only for those who suffered more at his hands.

Rant over, time to try not to cry about Gamora...

Her face of realization

Gamora run please

Thanos, I hate you. (Great character her, but not a good person)

Poor Gamora

Oh my gosh the emotion here is great but I’ve heard this sound used as a meme on TikTok too many times aghhhh

Gamora!

What a way to die

I’m crying again. I miss her already...

Who the hell designed this place and put the stone here???? Who did this?

Cry Thanos. Suffer. My only comfort here is that you are sad. You deserve suffering. You really do...

The TVA is laughing here and I’m not okay..

Poor Peter Quill... he’s also lost a lot like Thor, but has had the “luck” of not knowing his family too close.

Wakanda babyyyy

No, you don’t want Starbucks, you want Dutch bros

Lmao I love rhodey. Poor Bruce.

BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY

HUG

NO CMON HAVE A LONG HUG

MALE FRIENDSHIPS ARE SO IMPORTANT.

Yea Shuri show em up.

Okay quick pause, I love love LOVE how Shuri is smarter. It’s a powerful moment for females BUT it’s not done in a way that’s condescending to males! It’s not saying women power because men bad, she’s just good! (And she has had access to technology they never could have but I digress). More of this please Hollywood. Don’t let being a female be the power. I don’t want strong female characters, I want strong characters who happen to be female. Ones who hold their own, have faults like anyone else, struggle, have weaknesses and strengths, but are strong without putting down others. Just a comment, just because a woman character may not be as strong as a man character, that is not saying she’s weak. If you’re the second strongest human in the world, you are NOT weak. You’re just not as strong as the strongest human ever, but that’s nothing against you. LET WOMEN STAND ON THEIR OWN MERITS WITHOUT SEX AFFECTING THEM!

Anyways

I love Shuri

I wish they had more time. She definitely could have done it. But stupid Thanos

Ughhhghhg

I know what many scenes are upcoming... with quill and peter and vision and everyone else

Let👏🏻Bucky👏🏻Have👏🏻Peace👏🏻

Thank you Nat!!! I love that Nat is so protective and selfless.

GET THIS MAN A SHIELD

Bucky needs love please. He’s my stand in, manipulated, greasy, long haired, dark and mysterious, stabby boy. (Also I need Bucky and Loki to meet. But let Loki finish his show (and come out of it alive because if he doesn’t I will sue) and be the antihero hero we need. Please. If he doesn’t get reintroduced into the mcu as a hero I will sue.

Thor, sweetie, are you a masochist?

Back to wakanda

Oh no, bad CGI, floating head Bruce banner. I’ll let it slide... sigh....

Can’t like, you just rain bombs on them forever?

JIBARI TRIBE YEA BOYYYYY

Sorry Proxima Midnight, you look like a frog and your name sounds like a middle schooler’s OC.

How nice. Diplomatic meeting.

“Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” Reeeeeeally wish you didn’t say that, T’Challa...

Yay big CGI battle commence! It’s like a really expensive animated cartoon at this point

WAKANDA FOREVER!

Poor Bucky. Forgot this dude doesn’t know much about the modern world.

Ahhhh Kamikazi aliens

I just wanna say that I love that Wakanda still has the artistic culture in their clothing and tradition all the while having badass, super advanced technology.

Why can’t they just rain bombs down the whole fight lol. Rhodey has those super nice bombs, like, do that they he whole time? Please? Why do you not have a barrier around the entire king.

No M’Baku, it’s not the end of wakanda. But half of all life, yea

WAKANDA FOREVER YEAAAAAAA

They should honesty all have nano tech suits like black panther lol. Or iron man suits. Fine maybe the most powerful one with the best quality material for the king, but besides that, yknow.

Wow Steve is hot with a beard.

So much happening at once. Thor, Wakanda, Vormir, Knowhere, am I missing anything?

Okay, but what IS the full force of a star? Like in Newton’s or something? Juls? Is it heat?

What’s this metal? How does it fare with vibranium?

Get off your wooden butt, groot.

“He needs the axe” are you Thor, the god of axes?

Soooo, I thought Thor didn’t NEED the hammer, it just helped him concentrate his powers or act as a conduit. Is that retconned already?

Cmon groot, put down your game. Soooo, is Groot worthy? He technically lifted it. Or is it a technicality because it wasn’t fully finished yet?

Cmon bucky, use that fancy arm of yours.

Wow they’re getting destroyed.

They need wanda to help.

BADASS ENTRANCE BABYYYY

How did Thor know to come to wakanda?

Floaty head Bruce

“BRING ME THANOS!”

Ahhhhhahahaha yeaaaaaa

Cry Thanos. Do it. I hate you.

Much more of a purple grape nutsack.

Oh gosh... I know what Peter Quill is going to do. I still don’t hate him.

“With all six stone I would simply snap my fingers. They would all cease to exist.” Orrrr, now hear me out, I know I sound like a broken record now but... MAYBE DOUBLE THE RESOURCES INSTEAD?? That’s not mercy. That’s not up to you to decide whether or not someone’s better off dead.

Smoosh

Yea quill has experience with the power stone

AIM FOR THE HEAD

Cmon it’s basic zombie tactics

I love peter quill lmao

Go capey!!!

Magic with a kick!

Poor Peter

CAPEY NOOOOOO

Wow he’s OP

Ouch quill just got majorly clotheslined

NEBULA

“Where’s Gamora?” 😭😭😭 SHE CARES AGHHHH

Restrain him! Work it mantis!!!

Why even remove the gauntlet, just slit his throat... kill him....

Quill no... stop being cocky...

Oh no

Quill please don’t

JUST SLIT THANOS’ THROAT

Quill please....

Poor quill. Just lost the person who really really loved him

Okay, I still love star lord. Idc what others think. He reacted realistically. If you hate peter quill for how he reacted, you better also hate Tony Stark for how he reacted to bucky when he learned bucky killed his parents despite knowing for a fact that bucky was brainwashed. Yes it was annoying... yes they were so close, but quill is so human here. I don’t hate him. He gets too much hate for acting like any normal person would have. Distraught, grief filled, he lost his love. Someone who helped him open up and finally move on from his mother’s death and fathers villainy.

Spider man saving mantis gives me life

How did that power stone blast not kill them?

Clearly Thanos has played Majora’s Mask. At least he has good taste.

So close vision.... but I know... I know what happens.

YES BUCKY AND ROCKET GUN CIRCLE.

Lmao give rocket Bucky’s old arm.

“I am Groot.” “I am Steve Rogers.” Comedy gold

Cmon Thor, go after the big one first.

Cmon wanda, save them. We need some scarlet witch magic up here to stop these

Okay that was so cool. AND THEN SHE USED THE BLADES

Oh no but now Shuri is alone

So close yet so far.... Dangit... vision was almost good

Ouch. Bonk to the head

YEA BLACK WIDOW

BADASS TIME

AND OKOYE!!

LETS GOOOOOOO

BADASS WOMEN

Ouch poor vision

Cmon Thor back up vision

Please

Hulk is in his feels

Cmon hulk grow up

Ooooh smart move banner

Aaaaand he’s gone

Giant blade look oit

Corvus, screw off.

YEA STEVE

WHERE IS THOR WHEN YOU NEED HIM

CMON NAT

Oh dang. Nice one wanda. But also, sheesh. Helluva way to go. But no big.

Yea vision. Stabby time.

Now vision and Steve, kiss.

Spider man saving everyone’s lives.

YEA STRANGE

Where was this in New York???

MULTIPLYING

WHY DIDNT YOU DO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE????

Oh no

Well then... ouch. Soooo where’s the real stone???

Hey look Tony, you have a fan.

Okay I’m just pissed odd they didn’t just kill Thanos when they had him subdued. Like, worry about the glove AFTER he’s not longer a threat

Oof

Tony is taking a beating

HE WAS STABBED

WHAT

I don’t want your respect Thanos. That’s an insult.

They will remember him. They will remember him Thanos. When he kills you.

DOCTOR STRANGE WHAT?

You really doing this??? I guess he knows what needs to unfold for them to win... dang. I wouldn’t trust him tho.

Peter Quill in berserker mode

Where’d he go?

Name dropping the second movie

Strange knows everything about to go down. Who dies, who lives, what Thanos is about to do... he’s accepting his soon dusted demise because Stark needs to live...

AIM FOR THE HEAD UGHHHHH

Stop teleporting. That’s Loki’s gimmick.

KILL THIS RAISIN LOOKING NUTSACK UGH

Homie way too OP

Poor wanda and Vis...

HER LIP TREMBLE

PHENOMENAL ACTING

SAY I LOVE YOU

I JUST FEEL YOU

AGGHHHH IM CRYING AGAIN

Poor wanda. To have to kill her love... this.. this is a sacrifice Thanos... not your murder....

Wow Steve is holding back Thanos with pure brute

WANDA IS SO STRONG

HOLDING BACK THANOS WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BREAKING THE MIND STONE

I LOVE YOU

AGHHHHHHHHH

And I know what happens next...

Poor wanda

Piss off thanos you understand nothing

You lost more than she could know? Bull crap. You are causing everyone to lose...

Cruel reality. Wanda has to see him die twice. RIP Vision

RIP half of all life...

AIM FOR THE DAMN HEAD

IF THOR KILLED HIM THEY COULD HAVE USED THE GAUNTLET TO BRING EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE. USED THE TIME STONE TO REVIVE THEM ALL.

How did that not kill Thanos tho. It may not have been a head shot but still.

Lil Gamora

What is this place?

Is this the soul realm?

Thanos, I hope you suffer forever. You deserve all the pain...

Rest In Peace: Vision, Loki, Bucky, T’Challa, Groot, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Mantis, Drax, Peter Quill, Dr. Strange, Peter Parker (I don’t feel so good), and everyone else...

Thank you Nebula.

Thanos, you do NOT deserve to retire peacefully—wipe that smile off of your face

Oop, Rest In Peace Maria Hill and Nick Fury too... Motherfu— (so close Sammy boy...)

Yea Thanos you didn’t really think that through. Much more than half will died since other people rely on other peoples lives

Good thing he hit that button last minute huh? I wonder how captain marvel would fare in the TVA? are her powers considered magic? I mean, she clearly doesn’t know everything since she only just learned about Thanos (which is funny because she was supposedly traversing the universe to protect people)

Welp... onto movie two!

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,498

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland

AN: I have nothing. Nothing except for...I’m sorry... T_T

Chapter 58: Killer

“I’m not Buddha but I’m a butcher. I’ll cut away your skin like a...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Namjoon slowly slid the black cotton mask from his mouth and nose, waiting in the shadows of an alcove outside of the building. The small group of men he had with him, former Golden Jackals, huddled in the darkness. They were able to overtake the side entrance hours ago, before the crack of dawn. He made sure that no one of merit within the Jade Fangs would approach the designated area. Even if they did, Namjoon would have made it a point to subdue them completely. He would leave their bodies for the crows out in the muddy fields if he had his way.

But no, this was the moment where they would turn the tides. This was the beginning of the end.

We finish this today…

Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the orange glow of the flame licked at the end of the stick as a light crackling sound emitted itself from the contact. A few hushed conversations were going on beside him, to which he vaguely tuned in. They were out to prove themselves to the fallen brothers and sisters still imprisoned in the world they were forced to live in when adventuring into the light. But it was a life they deserved; a life they fought so hard for. Whether they lived or died after today, it would all be relevant to their future.

Pulling out his watch, Namjoon immediately flipped open the latch that covered the face. He was old-fashioned, so to speak, and a bit of a sentimentalist. Jimin teased him once about still carrying a pocket watch in this day and age, but how could he let it go?

It was a graduation gift Jungkook bought for him just before he moved to attend University in Seoul.

Time seemingly crawled; all of them were prepared to launch their first assault against the Jade Fangs. Namjoon already planned to be the first to cause the strike. He would need to ensure that the blast counted for something, otherwise it was all just going to get mucked up in the end. He would not have any screw-ups. Not while he was in charge of the first wave. Their offense was cut in half with Jungkook and Jimin pulled from the equation.

Pulling his ball cap down further on his head, he slipped the watch back into his pocket. Namjoon took one final drag of his cigarette, the smoke cloud billowing in his face and partially clouding his vision. However, in the shadows it seemed as if he were a dragon on the verge of breathing out a tremendous vortex of flame. One of the men approached him, nodding quickly. Namjoon grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The gas line had successfully been cut.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

In sync, all of them slipped their masks over their faces. The cigarette fell to his feet and sparked with the faint light of its embers before finally dying out altogether. They could hear the approaching footsteps growing in time and Namjoon pulled out his hunting knives. As soon as they were in the right position, he disappeared and then reappeared at the front of the room which was in full view of the four different ways that many of the others could enter what was now to be viewed as their battlefield.

Now he had to wait for the show to truly begin.

Yoongi and his team were situated near the back of the factory, hiding in the thick brushes and reeds that were in desperate need of attention and care. Changkyun felt it wasn’t time to tidy up the landscape and that allowed for the perfect amount of camouflage. Namjoon already texted him earlier, telling him that he was in position with his team. Taehyung and his group were hidden within the factory, away from prying eyes. Once all the pieces were lined up, it would be his job to tip the first domino.

He couldn’t fucking wait.

Yoongi felt a dark smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. To think they’d spent the better part of three days planning this out. It almost seemed far fetched and he would never have gone along with something like this. Not until Namjoon convinced him just how solid this counterattack would be. Because they were using Changkyun’s ego against him. He may have broken them by taking their brothers from them and left them feeling demoralized from how thoroughly they’d been ruined. But what Changkyun failed to see was the very thing Hoseok kept hidden away from the Jade Fangs all these years. The thing that he made sure they all kept hidden from them.

Their very own malicious nature.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket and he pulled out his phone, eyeballing the screen. It was time for him to make his move. Slipping out from his hiding spot, he made a point to make as much noise as possible. He wanted to be found. He wanted his path impeded.

His men would remain hidden.

The shuffling of feet reached Yoongi and he was soon surrounded in a semi-circle by Jade Fang lackeys. Pushing his way through the small throng was Kihyun, a curious expression painted over his features. Yoongi pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He watched Kihyun place himself in front of him, his back to the window of the factory.

“You should really quit while you’re ahead, Yoongi-ah,” said Kihyun, a baseball bat draped over his shoulder, “those things’ll kill you.”

“My smoking habits should be the least of your concerns,” he replied, cigarette poking out from between his lips.

Kihyun laughed, shaking his dark chestnut bangs out of his eyes. “I thought the meeting agreement was for Hoseok to come. Why are you here?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Did you really think, after everything you guys have done, that we’d trust Hoseok to come here alone with just one of us?”

“And let me guess…” He watched Kihyun as he took a step forward. “…you’re watching the back in case we try to do something underhanded?”

“Nope.”

He tried not to relish in the frown that Kihyun gave him. The heavy thudding of his heartbeat only elevated the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every square inch of him felt as cold as ice. But he could feel the fire pouring from his eyes.

Yoongi looked at Kihyun, his eyes shifting ever so slightly to the left. He saw the window slowly opening – silent. He would thank Taehyung later for oiling all the windows and doors on every side of the warehouse except for the front.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke at Kihyun. Flashing his gummy smile, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back slightly.

“I’m in the back so I can blow it up.”

And with a quick flick of his wrist, Yoongi threw the cigarette through the open window.

The explosion that soon followed knocked them all back.

Taehyung’s back hurt.

He’d been perched in the rafters for hours – having arrived at the factory long before anyone else appeared. There was an almost methodical madness to how carefully he oiled all the door hinges and window panes that didn’t come from the front of the warehouse. He was wired from both adrenaline and caffeine, knowing full well that today would be the day that everything would end. He knew his brothers were on edge, both from the planning and from the unpredictable nature that he exuded constantly.

But he had to be. Taehyung knew that if they knew what truly ticked around in his mind, they would do everything in their power to keep him from coming along. They would have left him behind.

And he’d be damned if that happened.

There was a single skylight in the factory situated dead in the center of the roof. Taehyung’s team already made short work of the lackeys that tried to come to the roof earlier that morning. No upper tiered members of the Jade Fangs were on rooftop duty. Taehyung already made a mental note of where everyone else was.

Hyungwon and Jooheon were patrolling the left side of the building; the side where Namjoon and his team were. One of Taehyung’s team was already deep inside of the factory, following the blueprint that Namjoon gave him, taking him straight to where the main gas line was. Once he finished cutting the line, he was to head to the boiler room.

Kihyun and Minhyuk supervised the back side of the factory, in case they were flanked. Yoongi was there with his group. He was the “gunshot” that would start the race. He was the only one who would be able to catch them off guard. Besides, he knew that Yoongi was also a bit of a pyromaniac and wouldn’t have been satisfied if he wasn’t the one to set off the explosion.

Which left Shownu, Wonho and Changkyun on the inside. Hoseok and Seokjin were sent in not as bait, but as a distraction. Then it would be time to bring the entire building down on top of their heads. Blood would be spilt. Lives would be lost.

Taehyung would eviscerate them all.

The building shook violently, causing Taehyung to grip onto the metal rafters. He leaned forward; one knee pressed into the beam beneath him. Shouts of confusion were heard from below him and he flashed a manic grin where no one could have the pleasure to see. Screams of pain resounded as glass shattered from below, his eyes searching for Seokjin. He was already making his way around a set of crates, having swiftly dispatched several Jade Fang members during all the chaos.

More glass broke and metal doors were slammed wide open. Dozens of Golden Jackal members flooded the factory, tangling themselves in a fight. The glass covering from the skylight also shattered, raining down into the factory. Several ropes dropped from the ceiling and Taehyung stood to his full height as his team descended from the open hatch. Some dropped to the ground while others swung from their ropes, landing on top of unsuspecting lackeys. Blood spewed as knives plunged into bodies from both sides.

Taehyung ran, jumping out as far as he could and stretching his arms out. He grasped onto a rope, swinging around until his leather gloved hands allowed him to slide down. He shoved his body around, changing his trajectory in mid-air so he was heading straight for the manager’s office.

His legs extended out as he watched Shownu scrambling to his feet. Taehyung crashed his heels directly into Shownu’s chest, knocking him back. As he straddled the older man’s hips, he quickly unsheathed the large hunting knife from his back – aiming it straight for Shownu’s chest.

He grunted when Shownu used his arms to block the blow – their forearms crashing into one another. Taehyung’s arms shook violently as he tried to force them down, watching the blade getting closer and closer to Shownu’s throat. He could feel the capillaries in his eyes exploding, his vision blurring momentarily, before a scream erupted from his lungs.

Releasing one hand from the hilt of the knife, Taehyung punched furiously at Shownu’s rib cage. The older man attempted a counterattack, using his knee to slam into Taehyung’s back. The force of the blow caused him to fall forward and he felt Shownu’s fingers closing in around his throat. Taehyung continued to punch him even as he felt the air being choked from him.

He punched him one more time, using his fingers to dig into Shownu’s side. He buried them, like he was digging through mud for shells. He twisted his fingers and pulled, tearing through the fabric of the other man’s shirt.

Turning his head and leaning forward, Taehyung snapped his teeth into Shownu’s knuckles. He bit through the skin, blood spraying into his mouth. The older man screamed but he could barely hear it over the noise of battle being waged all around them. He pulled his hand from Shownu’s side, gripped his other hand, and put all his weight down.

The blade slowly buried itself into Shownu’s chest.

Hoseok’s knee crashed into the ground as Changkyun struggled to maintain his own footing. The two men glared at each other just as the noises from outside became more and more prevalent. Hoseok smirked as he saw Changkyun race to the window, peering out to the factory floor below. He managed to get back onto his feet just as the Jade Fang’s leader turned to glance over his shoulder at him. Hoseok took pleasure in seeing the snarl forming on the man’s face.

“You,” he snapped, turning around to face him again.

Hoseok dusted off the backs of his pants, his arms going up into a defensive stance as his hands curled into fists. “Yes. Me.”

Changkyun quickly raced to the other side of the room, his hand sliding under the table. Hoseok narrowed his eyes when he next turned around, a knife held in his hand. He scoffed. Maybe he would have been surprised if Taehyung hadn’t already told him what was hidden there.

“So, you expected me to come unarmed, but then have a knife hidden away?” Hoseok shook his head. “I’m so fuckin’ disappointed in you right now.”

“Shut-up!”

Changkyun ran at him, his arm striking out to slash at Hoseok’s neck. But he was faster because he was thinking clearly. He wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from accomplishing what he wanted to do on this day.

He dodged, side-stepping Changkyun at the last second. Reaching up to his lips, Hoseok pulled out the small razor he had hidden in his mouth. Ducking the next blow, he slung his arm upward and slashed over where Changkyun’s right eye was. A stream of blood sprayed and Changkyun moved to cover one hand over his eye as a trail of crimson leaked from beneath his palm.

Dropping the razor, he closed the distance between them as Changkyun attempted another assault. But with his depth-perception thrown off, he swung blindly. Hoseok slammed his elbow into his chest, aiming a backfist to his throat, and used his other hand to quickly disarm him. Before the knife could fall to the floor, Hoseok was already snatching it out of the air.

Spinning around on his back heel, he roughly slammed his back into Changkyun’s chest – forcing his body to bang against the door. Hoseok pulled his arms forward, then swung them back. A sickening squelch noise followed as he plunged the knife directly into Changkyun’s gut. He felt the younger man struggling against him, but he put all his weight backward – his shoulder blades pressing into his chest so that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to wriggle himself free.

“H-Hyung,” he heard Changkyun choke out, his hand reaching out to grasp onto Hoseok’s shoulder, “don’t do this. We…we can help each other…”

Taking a step back, Hoseok buried the knife further into Changkyun’s stomach – watching the blood forming a small puddle by his feet.

“…you can fucking die is what you can do.”

Seokjin swore under his breath, eyeballing the small cut on his leg. He hadn’t meant to get caught off guard, but there was so much happening around him. Things got less hairy when Namjoon’s team managed to make it inside. Even in the middle of all the craziness, Seokjin was glad they weren’t having to deal with guns. This would have ended bloodier than it needed to.

His eyes darted in every direction and he barked orders when he needed to as Taehyung’s team swept down from the ceiling. Namjoon was in the thick of it with his people and some of Yoongi’s squad managed to make it inside. There was a hint of worry when he hadn’t been able to locate Yoongi, but he knew he had to trust his brothers to be able to take care of themselves.

If he couldn’t at least do that, then what good was their bond?

The door to the manager’s office flew open, the loud bang rattling throughout all the noise of the fighting. Seokjin’s eyes followed the sound and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hoseok stumbling out of the door. He nearly tripped on something, seeing Taehyung catching Hoseok at the last second before he could fall. The two of them exchanged words before Taehyung jumped from the catwalk, his arms grabbing for the ropes so he could swing down to the main floor to join the fight. From what Seokjin could tell, Hoseok hadn’t sustained any injuries.

There was movement in Hoseok’s blind spot. Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was one of their people or a Jade Fang member. Not until the very last second.

“HOSEOK-AH!”

Their eyes locked momentarily, but there wasn’t any time. Running from his hiding spot, Seokjin scooped up a discarded knife. He slid to the center of the bottom floor and flung his arm out and upward. Hoseok jumped out of the way just as the knife buried itself in Changkyun’s throat. They watched the Jade Fang’s leader fall backward, presuming that he would not be getting up a second time.

A grateful smile passed over Hoseok’s lips, but soon snapped to surprise as he looked back at Seokjin.

“HYUNG!”

Suddenly, Seokjin felt his body flung to the side. His head hit the ground and the rest of him followed suit. The pain erupted seconds afterwards, his hand reaching up to grasp at the area where his nerves were screaming at him. Fingers caressed something cold and slender. When he pulled, his pain receptors went off like alarms and he screamed, looking around at who was responsible for the assault. As he craned his neck around to see, he spied the rod-like object poking out from his side. Something dribbled from his mouth and he didn’t have to guess to know that it was his own blood.

When he searched around in desperation, his eyes locked with Minhyuk who was holding a crossbow – watching him already reloading the next bolt.

Bodies moved around him in a blur – all of them screaming and fighting for their own lives. They were distracted. None of them realized what was happening.

No one except Hoseok.

Seokjin grinned, crawling to his knees. He could hear Hoseok’s feet thudding along the metal stairs, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He was ready to face this head on. However, what he hadn’t expected was Minhyuk to shift his aim.

To Hoseok.

Eyes wide, Seokjin quickly scrambled to his feet and lunged forward in Hoseok’s direction. He knew his brother wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He was too focused on getting to Seokjin. But by doing so, he was putting himself in danger.

Seokjin knew he had to block his path.

It was like he could sense it. He jumped up and out to the left. Pain blossomed over his back and all feeling from his legs down seemed to disappear. He collapsed into the ground, dirt filling his nostrils, and he cried out in agony as he dug his fingers into the concrete. Soon, he could feel the texture of his own blood mixed with the dirt under his fingernails.

“HYUNG!”

Seokjin couldn’t see, but he knew it was Taehyung’s voice. He blindly reached out, grabbing for what he assumed was Taehyung’s ankle. “H-Hoseok-ah,” he choked out between coughing up blood, “…get him out of here.”

“B-But Hyung—”

“DO IT!”

He felt the ankle leaving his grasp and Seokjin prayed that Taehyung would listen to him. Hoseok had to get out of there. They all had to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was going to make it. Not now; not when he was coughing up blood. Something was internally damaged. He was most likely hemorrhaging already.

Curling onto his side, he grasped at the bolt protruding from him and gripped onto it as hard as he could. As he pulled, visions of Anastasia flashed through his mind, giving him pause. For a moment, he forgot about the pain; he forgot about the world around him.

All he could see was the woman he loved standing in the far corner of the factory as she held their beautiful son. He stretched his arm out, reaching for them as if he could touch them. Tears leaked from his eyes as he smiled – the world blurring and getting just a little bit darker.

…I’m sorry, Ana, he thought, the weight of his arm starting to get heavier, …I’m not going to be able to keep this promise…I love you… He felt his elbow hit the concrete, followed by his head.

I’m going to see my brothers now. Forgive me…

Everything grew quiet around him.

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autistic-girl-academic · 4 years ago

Text

Cookie Run OCs

gdi apparently one of the cookies in cr kingdom is named licorice cookie so screw it i’m biting the bullet and posting my half-baked (ha) oc ideas now even if some of them have already been taken anyway. sorry there’s no art bc i’m terrible with digital stuff and can’t access a scanner to upload my drawings. there are almost certainly going to be more to come later because this game refuses to leave my brain.

Black Licorice Cookie: The powerfully astringent flavor of black licorice certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste - and that’s just the way Black Licorice Cookie likes it! This daredevil of a Cookie loves nothing more than testing her limits, so she’s always on the lookout for something to get her adrenaline pumping. That doesn’t mean she isn’t without her sweet side, however, which comes out most strongly when protecting her precious little sister. Get between them at your own risk!

Red Licorice Cookie (Sibling): Don’t mess with my little sis if you know what’s good for you!

Mustard Cookie (Trust): Nobody else gets me like Mustard Cookie does!

Kiwi Cookie (Friendly): Hey, I’ve got an idea for some cool bike tricks!

Roll Cake Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride in that road roller and smashing things is such a rush! WHOO!

Initially I had the mental image of her as a Cookie with a web design and a spider pet, but then Truffle Cookie came out, so now I pretty much picture her skill being that she runs a Ninja-Warrior-style obstacle course or something. Maybe her pet could be a black cat instead?

Red Licorice Cookie: Between the fruity fragrance of her signature red hair and her sweet, outgoing personality, it’s no surprise that this Cookie is so popular! Red Licorice Cookie is a champion at gymnastics with plenty of fans, and performing with the ribbon is where she shines the most. She and her older twin sister might be as different as night and day, but their bond is as strong as a thousand strands of licorice twisted together!

Black Licorice Cookie (Sibling): I’ve got the coolest big sis in the world!

Cheerleader Cookie (Trust): Cheerleader Cooke is my BFF!

Yoga Cookie (Friendly): She’s helped me train to be much more flexible for my routines.

Skating Queen Cookie (Admiration): I can’t believe I actually got her autograph!

At first I imagined her as being a sort of epic version of Cheerleader Cookie, performing double dutch with a few friends much like the cheer team. Her pet would be a charm bracelet.

Oatmeal Cookie: Every day at the crack of dawn, this dutiful cowgirl is already hard at work, keeping a watchful eye over her herd with the help of her trusty steed, Raisin. If even a single cow goes missing, Oatmeal Cookie won’t rest until she’s got them home safe and sound. The tricks she can perform with a lasso will certainly knock your socks off! And when the sun starts to set, you can hear the sound of her yodeling from far across the plains.

Peanut Butter Cookie (Family): I’m the luckiest Cookie alive to have such a beautiful gal as you...

Knight Cookie (Friendly): You sure know how to burn the breeze!

Adventurer Cookie (Friendly): Nice hat ya got there, pardner!

Space Doughnut (Tension): Hey, stop spookin’ my herd!

Her skill would probably involve dodging obstacles on her horse while catching some runaway cows, and her pet would be a cowbell.

Peanut Butter Cookie: There’s nothing better for a boost of energy than some delicious, nutritious peanut butter! And forest ranger Peanut Butter Cookie definitely needs that energy, as she spends every day traversing the woods to keep them safe. Whether she’s helping Cookies who have gotten lost find their way home or rescuing woodland critters from danger, you can always depend on Peanut Butter Cookie. She’s especially fond of younger Cookies and enjoys teaching them wilderness survival skills.

Oatmeal Cookie (Family): She and I pack each others’ lunches every day.

Pancake Cookie (Friendly): Be careful climbing trees for those Acorn Jellies, dear!

Cream Puff Cookie (Friendly): I’m sure you’ll get that spell right next time, hun.

Fig Cookie (Trust): They’re always eager for me to tell them stories.

Fire Spirit Cookie (Tension): You keep those flames away from the forest, you hear?

You can probably tell by now that I’ve put like 0 thought into any of my Cookie OC’s skills. Anyway, her pet would be a bear that she helped when it was a cub, who shows up to help her by smashing obstacles.

Coconut Cookie: The Tropical Soda Archipelago has a long history of telling stories through traditional dance. Coconut Cookie comes from a long line of those dancers, and Cookies will flock from every island to watch her perform. Crowned with a garland of bright yellow coconut blossoms, she moves with the utmost rhythm and grace. It’s said that she practices every day so that she can bring peace and good fortune to the islands.

Mango Cookie (Trust): My best friend since we were little - I remember his very first boat!

Ananas Dragon Cookie (Admiration): The Dragon honored my ancestors by praising their dances.

Soda Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride on the waves is the best, isn’t it?

Squid Ink Cookie (Friendly): Poor little thing, there’s no need to be shy.

My first thought was for her to make a sort of bubble shield out of coconut oil, like Lemonade Cookie but without the magnetic effect (maybe slower energy drain instead?) - I’m still undecided about it though. Her pet would be a bunch of coconuts who make coconut milk potions. Also, I picture her being related to Artichoke Cookie, but he’s not in Ovenbreak...YET? (pls devsis)

Honeycomb Cookie: Out in a charming little cottage atop a hill lives Honeycomb Cookie - and her many hives of Jelly Bees. Years upon years of working with the bees has allowed her to understand them so well, it’s almost as if she talks to them! If you happen to arrive on her doorstep, you can be sure that she’ll treat you to some delicious tea sweetened with honey and send you on your way with a basket of homemade treats.

Herb Cookie (Family): My cute little grandson certainly inherited the family green thumb.

Spinach Cookie (Trust): Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a basket of vegetables, dearie!

Fairy Cookie (Friendly): Ah, you’re so small I mistook you for another bee.

Matcha Cookie (Friendly): A bit of a strange one, but it’s nice to have some laughter over tea.

Not sure what her skill would be, but I think her pet would be a queen Jelly Bee that grows from a baby to an adult as you collect more jellies.

Souffle Cookie: A chef famous for turning simple Jellies into extravagant and delicious meals. Though he can come off as strict and a bit intimidating, he truly does care about creating good food for every Cookie who comes to his restaurant. Souffle Cookie is quite the perfectionist, so if a recipe doesn’t come out as planned, he tends to sulk so badly that even his fluffy chef’s hat deflates! But it never lasts long before he throws himself back into his work with renewed passion.

Sparkling Cookie (Trust): My cooking and your juice is the ultimate combination!

Sandwich Cookie (Admiration): To create such simple but delicious meals...C’est magnifique!

Mala Sauce Cookie (Friendly): Just watch, I’ll create a meal more than spicy enough to satisfy you!

Dr. Wasabi Cookie (Tension): I am NEVER using your syrup as a ‘secret ingredient’ EVER again!

Again, not sure what his skill would be, but maybe his pet could be a spoon. Sous-chef Spoon?

Rainbow Sugar Cookie: Sugar Cookie was always painfully shy and never considered herself all that important. However, everything changed when she met Rainbow Puff, a creature who begged for her help in protecting the happiness of Cookies everywhere from the wicked Dark Puffs. Bestowed with a magical wand, she becomes Rainbow Sugar Cookie, chasing away darkness with prisms of joyous light! RAINBOW...BEAM!

Pink Choco Cookie (Trust): The two of us would make a perfect team!

Wind Archer Cookie (Admiration): Wow...what an amazing warrior...

Sandwich Cookie (Friendly): She makes the best toast as a snack on the way to school!

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Rival): I won’t let a villain like you make other Cookies suffer!

Pomegranate Cookie (Tension): Why are you helping the Darkness?

Originally her name was Glitter Cookie, but then Shining Glitter Cookie got announced. In any case, she’d pretty much be an epic version of Wind Archer Cookie, fighting a big ‘boss’ monster once enough little ones were defeated with her magic.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie: Trick or treat! Wait, is it Halloween already? The answer doesn’t really matter to this young Cookie, who loves trick-or-treating so much that they never take their costume off! If you don’t have Jellies to give, then get ready for a mischievous trick! But if there’s one thing they love more than getting treats, it’s sharing them with friends, so don’t be shy and join in the fun!

Candy Corn Cookie (Trust): My bestest trick-or-treating buddy!

Devil Cookie (Admiration): WOW! What a great costume!

Apple Cookie (Friendly): Here, candy apples!

Onion Cookie (Friendly): Trick o- um, please don’t cry...

Vampire Cookie (Tension): Hey, don’t fall asleep when I’m trying to trick you!

I thought I was in the clear with this OC when we got Truffle Cookie for Halloween...but then Pumpkin Cookie was an NPC later, lol. At least the name was an easy change. Their skill would basically be like a slower version of Chestnut’s, where you go up to houses and trick-or-treat.

Candy Corn Cookie: This Cookie used to be a scarecrow who stood in the middle of a big field of candy corn. However, they wanted to travel the world, so one night they wished upon a star...and miraculously, their wish was granted! Bursting with curiosity, Candy Corn Cookie is full of questions about everything they see. They still have a habit of chasing birds wherever they go, though.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie (Trust): This ‘trick-or-treat’ thing is really fun!

Alchemist Cookie (Admiration): Wow, this Cookie knows lots of things!

Blueberry Pie Cookie (Friendly): Ooh, what’s in all these ‘book’ things?

Mocha Ray Cookie (Friendly): Cookies can really live under the sea? WOW!

Carrot Cookie (Tension): Aw, I don’t wanna go back to the farm yet!

Candy corn apparently used to be called ‘chicken feed’, so their pet would probably be a chicken. Again, not sure about the skill.

#cookie run #cookie run oc #cookie run ocs

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erudite-rebel · 4 years ago

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Title: Forced Offerings Summary: The recounts of Bartholomew Oobleck regarding an incident which took the lives of his parents when he was a child. Characters: Bartholomew Oobleck, Qrow Branwen, OC’s Notes: I’m posting a bit of writing I did. A few people who follow will be familiar with my Magnus Archives AU, or at the very least have seen me spam about it and draw art for the (3) other people who I know that listen to the podcast. I’m actually very proud of this little bit of writing, though I understand not everyone would want to read it. I’m trying to get myself back into properly writing, and though this is fanfic I think getting it out there and maybe receiving feedback could help?

It’s a horror story. One I kind of want to adapt, honestly, to a Creepypasta to submit to NoSleep, but for now it can remain like this.

Warnings for body horror, gore, and guts.

“There has to be some sort of rational explanation for-”

“For someone wearing someone else’s skin like a meat suit?” Qrow’s words were calm. Somehow he was always calm. Even after all of this.

Barty leaned against the chair, hands gripping the back of it until it was twisted and pressed against the table. He had dark bags under his eyes and was unsure of the last time he’d had a proper sleep. Every piece of him felt tired, from toes to fingertips, and he knew if he laid down there would be nothing to gain for it. Just wakefulness, watching, waiting.

“I always thought I wanted it to be real, Qrow,” he said. “All my life. Ever since the wanting to know dug its claws into my head for the first time. Even when we both should have run away after the incident. I- but now I’m here. And I really do know now, even if there’s so much more that I don’t. Hidden. Layers waiting for me to scrape away and dig down into them.”

When he looked back up Qrow’s face was near unreadable, as it always was. As though his old friend had at some point become a spy. “You can still get out, Bart. Quit. Forget.”

Barty laughed weakly. “You don’t… you don’t think I tried? I attempted to write up a letter of resignation, and it was as though the keys had transformed, like staring at some unknown machine as the cursor blinked. So I took up a pen, determined to write it, and I forgot how to write. And when I saw Ozpin I… the words. They wouldn’t be spoken. I don’t think I can quit.”

He sagged then and pulled out his chair, sitting heavily down. His head was laid in his arms, trying to think it through, but what was there to think of? To understand? He was trapped. A group of beings wearing skin suits had attempted to break into the archives. He’d looked at one of them wearing the face of a person he’d taken a statement from. Veronica Chase of Leeds.

“Everything I remembered pointed to… to the world being a very dark place, but I think I. I was too young to understand just how horrific.”

Cool fingers curled around his. Barty squeezed them on reflex, trying to convince himself not to do anything so childish as cry. There was so much going on. Too much going on. And he knew Ozpin, Qrow, perhaps some of the other assistants, he knew they knew more. And those secrets, that untold knowledge, burned like a hunger in him as much as recording statements had become. A part of him, one he didn’t yet know how loud it truly was, wanted to devour that knowledge.

Qrow’s voice broke into his thoughts. “...Have you ever spoken about it?”

Barty considered the question a moment before he lifted his head. Qrow was no longer unreadable. He was sad. Maybe angry as well.

“I haven’t.” He’d alluded to things to Qrow, when they were young and just a few stupid, desperate children, but he’d never told the full story. Perhaps not even to the police.

Qrow nodded to the tape recorder. “Maybe now’s the time.”

“You mean give a statement?” He sounded incredulous, as though that was the last thing he ought to be doing.

The other man shrugged, but thin fingers curled a little tighter. The gesture was soothing. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Barty sat up straighter, looking at the recorder waiting for him to merely press record. It called to him. With a sigh he picked up his glasses and placed them on his face, straightening his back. Qrow’s hands retreated over the table to his lap, and the other man was silent as he slouched and stared at Barty.

The record button depressed with a satisfying click, and the gears within ground softly with their age. The sound tingled along his spine like light, tickling fingers.

“Statement of Bartholomew Oobleck, regarding a series of deaths at Eastwyke Museum of Artefacts and Antiquities in 1996. Statement taken on November 22nd, 2020. Audio recording by Bartholomew Oobleck, Head Archivist of the Beacon Institute, London.” He paused a moment, as memories returned, like he’d merely opened a door. He remembered being a young and curious boy, and the scent of dust and paper and age in the museum’s storage. It was almost as if he were there, and he knew he’d be able to tell the story down to the deepest detail, and when he began to talk he wasn’t entirely sure who he was talking to - Qrow, the tape, or himself.

“Statement begins.”

I don’t suppose there are many people who would remember the Eastwyke Museum of Artefacts and Antiquities anymore. Or if they do, they might pretend not to. The galleries had originated from the private collection of Duke Francis Egerton, who had been the Duke of Eastwyke for perhaps a decade in the eighteen hundreds and primarily concerned himself with gathering rare and unusual antiquities. In the 1950’s several of his descendants saw fit to open it to the public, perhaps to use it to make a little money or invest. Despite that it didn’t see tourism. The patrons were mainly students from Oxford, or travelling academics. Anthropologists, archaeologists, Egyptologists… even had an entomologist come in weekly to just sit in the insect room and take it all in. No, not many people would remember it, but it was my childhood.

My parents, Pearl and Mathis Oobleck, were archaeologists. They were often abroad with work and digs. Sometimes I went with them, sometimes I stayed at home with my grandfather Tennyson, who had a little cottage on the grounds when he worked as curator. When he retired the mantle passed to my father and they were home a little more, unless going off to expand the collection. It was… a happy enough childhood. Maybe lonely sometimes, but I had an entire world of secret knowledge to explore, a library to devour and help curb my hyperactivity. I was content prowling those halls, which felt more like home to me than our cottage.

When I was nine the proprietors purchased a considerable number of artifacts from a private auction, something to do with a portion of Duke Egerton’s original collection that had made it into the hands of a branch of the royal family they’d had a rivalry with. The purchase caused quite a stir. All sorts of wild stories were told… not the least of which was that many of the artifacts there were once bought from grave robbers. I never heard the truth of it, though I suspect it was. Most private collections are just that. Stolen.

I was forbidden to go near the newest items. While it was next to impossible to keep me out of the storage rooms, I had learned early not to touch anything, and was not allowed in the room where they were held without an accompaniment to make sure I kept my hands well off. I remember standing in the middle of the room, hands stuck firm under my arms to resist the temptation to touch the pottery or old weapons. I must have looked like I had seen Father Christmas as I turned every which way trying to get a peek at it. I was a horrible annoyance, I suspect.

One part of the lot, though, I remember very well. It had been a beautifully preserved set of canopic jars. I recall being told they were from the eighteenth dynasty. They were made of black stone, each head carved with exquisite detail, the polish hanging on despite the millenia since. All over the surface of the jar were carved hieroglyphs, uncharacteristic of the usual designs. Several people believed the jars to be fake, as the material was wrong for the time, and the glyphs were unusual, but carbon dating seemed to suggest it was an immutable fact. I think there was a lot of discussion whether to open the jar and study the remains inside.

The largest advocate for their authenticity was Dr. Herbert Renshaw, a loud and corpulent man. I never knew him well. He was the sort of man who didn’t have patience for even a docile child, let alone a hyperactive boy with a million questions. He usually didn’t want me about so I didn’t hear much of them until he’d found me one day loitering near the entrance of the archive where they were being kept and he asked if I would like to come inside.

I remember finding that odd, chiefly because I knew he didn’t care for me, but also because of the look in his eyes. I was never much good at deciphering human emotions when I was younger, but even then I thought there was something of a gleam to them. I readily agreed, though, and darted inside the moment I was allowed to.

We didn’t have much in the way of conversation. He talked at length about the glyphs carved into the rock, and how they’d seemed to be in several different languages. His speech had been rapid, I remember, and I’d had difficulty following along. All the while I’d been edging closer to them, feeling captivated by the staring eyes of the figureheads atop the jars. I felt as though they were looking back at me, urging me in.

I hadn’t even been aware of reaching for them when Dr. Renshaw’s hand slapped down hard over my own, knocking it away. Knuckles stinging, I’d turned and fled as he glared. But even now I’m not sure if I ran from the slap, the look in his eyes, or the fact that there had seemed to be radiant, physical heat from those jars.

For the next few days I was kept busy with my homeschooling and hardly got a chance to go into the museum beyond writing a maths test in my mother's office. Whenever I was in, though, I happened to see Dr. Renshaw. Normally he was a neat and tidy sort of man, with expensive suits and his moustache waxed within an inch of its life, yet… it seemed as though he was keeping less care of himself. Hair unbrushed, buttons undone, bowtie lank or missing. And as he walked he’d mutter to himself and turn a wild sort of gaze on a person, something that made you feel less like a person and more like an object.

When I asked my mother about it she dismissed it as him being overworked and told me to concentrate harder on my studies. I tried, but the memory of the way he walked and stared wouldn’t be banished from my mind.

It was on a Monday that it truly started. I had left one of my science textbooks in my mother’s office and needed it for that day’s lesson, but it was on Monday’s the museum was closed, so I took my father’s key and let myself in the back entrance. I was hardly afraid. I knew these halls like the back of my hand.

As I was passing through one of the archives - it had been stuffy and hot with summer, without climate control - I heard an odd sound. A sort of whimpering coming from further in the dark. At first I rooted in place, wondering if I should run and get my father, too afraid to call out. When the sound came again I crept through the shelves, terrified of what I might find, when I came upon one of the librarians, Maggie Law. I’d always liked her. She let me read what I like and sometimes would sneak me toffee’s or other sweets. I’m certain she had a kind, round face, but now all I can remember is how she’d looked there in the shadows. Yellowing skin and eyes, soaked with sweat, hands clutched over her side. I remember her crying, her voice so broken and small as she said ‘he pulled it from me, he pulled it from me.’

I ran then, straight for my parents. It had taken them a good five minutes to get me to talk enough sense to call an ambulance. I remember watching from my window as she was taken away, staring through old warped glass at the blue lights.

I also remember something else, though. Dr. Renshaw. His face looking out from a window at the same scene. Even though I couldn’t see him clearly, my vision what it was, I felt sick just to look at him. I felt dread.

More attacks followed. The following day the groundskeeper, Kevin Rutherford, was found dead, torch in hand. I overheard the police telling my parents he seemed like he must have had a heart attack while patrolling the grounds that night. The day after that an archaeologist named Judith Churchill was found in a state of shock in the parking lot, having finished up late that night.

The museum closed. Everyone by that point was terrified, and the police were doing regular patrols. I was thirsty to know what was happening but my parents refused to tell me, so I’d taken to listening in on the telephone whenever someone rang. I eavesdropped on one such call and learned that Maggie Law had died. Hepatic encephalopathy, they’d said. I remember struggling an ancient medical textbook down from a shelf just to look it up. It’s a condition caused by acute liver failure.

I was in a right state after that. My parents were making sure to keep the doors locked. I remember my mother tucked me in and told me not to worry. I try to always remember that.

It was around ten pm that a knock came at the door. Unable to sleep I’d made a little tent of a blanket and was reading by torchlight when I heard it. Curious who it could be at that hour with so much going on, I crept from my bed to go to the stairs to watch the front hall. I thought perhaps it might be a policeman, that there’d be some news.

It was my father who answered the door. On the threshold stood Dr. Renshaw, and he looked haggard. Deep bags below his fever-bright eyes, cheeks almost sunken, hair a mess. I remember he had a hand tucked into his jacket.

My father invited him in, of course. There’d been concern in his voice as he shut the door and warned him he shouldn’t be out so late with such strangeness going on.

I remember the door swinging shut. I remember Dr. Renshaw pulling one of the jars from his jacket and noticing the eyes of Qebehsenuf, the falcon, somehow staring out from its black and smooth surface. And then Renshaw reached for my father.

Words do not feel as though they can describe. I watched as his hand seemed to sink through clothes and skin and flesh without a drop of blood. I remember my father’s face going stark white as my mother asked what was going on. And then Renshaw pulled his hand back.

It was like nothing I had yet seen. Pink, almost purplish, tubes were gripped in Renshaw’s hand. My father screamed then, falling to his knees, watching as this mass was pulled from him. There was too much even for Renshaw to hold and it slipped to the ground with a wet splat, and seemed to move like a languid snake.

My father fell over then, as my mother screamed hysterically. All I remember clearly was Renshaw looking up at me as he held my father's intestines like fleshy ropes, letting them drag on the ground and slap his clothing. Our eyes met. They were like I had never seen before. There was something mad there, but also elation or euphoria I couldn’t understand.

I ran then, bolting for my parent's room. I remember crawling under their bed and curling up beneath the headboard, hands over my ears as I listened to my mother scream before it just… ended. I waited to hear boots upon the stairs, for Renshaw to come and stick his hand into me, but he never came. All I heard was the door swing shut.

I didn’t leave until morning when the police arrived. The maid found my parents, and the police found me. Had had to drag me from under the bed, in fact. They didn’t let me see their bodies, and the funeral was closed casket. I told the police who I’d seen but Renshaw had disappeared along with those canopic jars. Jars I worry that had gotten full on what was stolen from his coworkers.

I went to go live with my grandfather after that. There was a lot of therapy. I was pushed harder than ever into my schoolwork, and I treated it like a drug to quiet my mind. Eventually I think I half convinced myself it was a hallucination by the time I went to high school. Now I know better.

Statement ends.

#rwby fanfic #bartholomew oobleck #qrow branwen #rwby oobleck #rwby qrow #horror fanfic #tma au #freeform; my writing #is anything really real anymore?; tma au

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 5 years ago

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FFT: punch drunk princess; jay white [m]

Notes:

okay so.. this one was another sent to my main’s ask. but it was sent so long ago that I honestly forget who exactly sent it, oops? Anyway, this belongs to the whole vamp x human universe that I created for Jay White and my oc, Esme. Maybe one day I’ll make something out of it.

Summary:

Jay put a glamour so strong on Esme years ago that she’s totally forgotten him. But when they’re reunited because he sought her out and chose her to do his interview Jay decides that maybe he wants to remind her exactly who he is and what they were to each other. Fingering and hand jobs, body fluids. Mature.

Pairing:

Jay White x OFC, Esme

Warnings:

hand jobs and fingering, body fluids, risky sexual situation, use of mental manipulation / a glamour and some pretty intense bickering and banter back and forth.

Esme took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down the black leather strapless dress. One quick glimpse at herself in the mirror and she was ready.. Well, as ready as one gets to go out and give a tempermental self proclaimed vampire an interview.

… just get out there, let him do his promo and don’t ask any of the questions on the no ask list. It’s not that hard, Esme… she reminded herself as she reached for the door handle and took two long and deep breaths to center herself a little bit.

Having never met a man who claimed to be a decades old vampire before, Esme was torn between believing the stories she’d heard and thinking the man was all show and no go; secretly leaning more towards the latter if it really mattered.

Given the men she /had/ encountered -and been let down by, it wasn’t a real stretch for her imagination.

“You’re on in ten, Essie.”

“Mark, we’ve discussed this. It’s Esme. E-S-M-E. Surely you can remember a four letter name and stop trying to make it cute?” Esme’s tone was sharp and Mark, the stage hand winced, but Esme just fluffed his hair and straightened his tie. “Is my coffee ready too?”

“Already out front.” Mark assured her.

Esme stared at the black velvet curtain separating her from the professional wrestler she was about to interview.

“Four seconds.” someone called out and Esme started to make her way to the curtain. When she stepped through, she took her seat quickly.

The man sitting next to her was decked out in a designer leather trench coat, leather skinny jeans and a pair of pretty pricey biker boots that she was almost certain she’d seen in a top end boutique that she shopped right next to. She didn’t realize she was staring, - or that he was staring right back, until he cleared his throat and chuckled, leaning in ever so slightly.

Esme got the distinct sense that it was more to throw her off or unsettle her than anything, but there was this underlying note of seduction there that she’d have to have been the most oblivious person in the entire world to miss.

She smirked calmly as he whispered, “Y’ look tense, princess.”

“Not tense at all, sir. Let’s just do this interview with no cute stuff and no outtakes, yeah?” Esme whispered back, careful not to let on just how much the man was truly getting to her.

She’d been warned about him before she’d been told that he specifically chose her to give the interview and asked if she would, so she was not about to let him play whatever game he was going to try and play to make her lose her level of professionalism. She took a sip of coffee and almost the second the cup was level with her lips, her mind was absolutely flooded with all this mental imagery..

The man sitting next to her, standing behind her, cock standing tall and straight, one hand tangled in a fist full of her hair and the other hand wrapped around his shaft, guiding it over her dripping cunt, teasing her with a shallow thrust here and there. She nearly choked and he chuckled from beside her, reaching out to pat her upper back as he muttered calmly, “Thought y’ were like steel. Nothin could rattle ya.”

Esme gave a non amused glare, he gave a playful wink and clearing her throat firmly, Esme asked the first question on her spoon fed list from his personal manager. “Are you happy with the block you’ll be wrestling in for G1 Climax this year?”

“Very satisfied, yes.” Jay answered, studying her intently. Seeing her on a screen and being face to face with her again after all this time were… two totally different things and if he said he wasn’t beyond affected by being around her same as he had been that last night with her, he’d be lying. The thought had him shifting in his seat and he raked his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, trying like hell to keep the mental images flooding his mind from doing so right now.

After all, he didn’t need Esme knowing the deepest inner fantasies he may or may not have had about her before the interview even took place.. The way he wanted to sweep all the shit off the top of the table they currently sat at, tearing down that dress, letting his mouth roam over those perky tits.. Grab a handful of her ass… No, he wanted to reach between her legs and rub her cunt til she was arching her back and whimpering; begging him for more, telling him not to stop.

She tensed next to him and he gave a satisfied smirk the second she did, glad that she couldn’t see it. If he had to suffer the mental imagery, it was only fitting she suffer it too.

The program went to commercial and Esme leaned in, a smug look of determination in her eyes as she whispered calmly, “I don’t know what your game is, Jay White.. But it stops now.”

He met her gaze with the most innocent of looks and a haphazard shrug as he chuckled. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. It’s Esme, right? Pity.. you know my full name. I don’t know yours. Maybe we should change that?” for the moment, Jay was pretending not to know her beyond having seen her show. In reality, he knew her… Oh, he knew her quite well.. And it stung a little that the glamour he’d used on her years ago after a very intense and passionate night together worked so well that she didn’t even feel some tiny spark or shred of recognition.

… well I’ll just ‘ave t’ change that, given that I’m back and I aim t’ make her all mine…

“That’ll be a hard pass from me, Jay. Pretty sure you’re like the rest of the men I’ve had on to interview from that profession.” even as Esme said it, she had this feeling somewhere deep down.. There was something tugging at her mind she couldn’t quite make sense of.. This sense of familiarity where Jay White was concerned.

“You mean like yer last boyfriend, yeah? No, nothin like him. For starters I’m more ‘f a man in one of my fingers as he is overall.. To do th’ things I heard he did behind yer back…Only a coward sleeps around on the woman he supposedly loves.” Jay met her shocked expression with a smug look and Esme’s mouth opened and closed because for the first time in probably her entire life, she had absolutely no quick comeback. She muttered the word jackass under her breath and Jay leaned in, mused against her ear quietly, “Tell me somethin, princess?” - he knew he shouldn’t ask the question, because he didn’t want to have it confirmed that yes, he had done such a good job with the glamour he put her under while she slept the morning after their night together that she’d completely forgotten, but he… had to know. So, he asked.

“I have a name.” Esme started to correct, but then her eyes met his and she felt this… Sudden lucidity washing over her. She couldn’t even really remember what she’d been so irritated by in regards to him by the time the fog wore off. She shook her head and stared at him a few seconds, curious. “Well?”

“Do y’ even remember me at all?”

Esme raised a brow and bit her lip, wondering why he’d ask her such a strange question when she’d never met him before in her entire life.

“ I’d have to have met you first to remember you.” Esme answered calmly. The show picked back up and Esme started her interview again. Jay watched her intently, mulling over just how good he’d glamoured her all those years ago after their night together.

The problem was, even recalling the night with her… Bought it all rushing right back to the surface.

Esme nearly choked on her coffee again when her mind was flooded with another round of erotic mental imagery.

Her hands tied to a metal bedpost that looked vaguely similar to an old frame she once owned.. Legs spread wide.. The feeling of facial hair and a warm, wet and oh so thick tongue as it trailed slowly up the inside of her right thigh. His eyes as he stared up at her. The white of his fangs as his mouth turned upward in that devil’s smirk. The feel of his hands against her bare skin.

The way he fucked her with his tongue - and on two separate occasions that same night, his cock. The way he pulled her hair and the way he lie there holding her in the semi darkness of the room for a few hours after that night.

Esme tried to keep her face blank and the tension out of her body, but the mumbled swear was definitely heard by Jay and all he could do was smirk to himself a little, calmly answer the question she’d asked and flash her his best flirtatious grin.

Her side brushed against his and it was like a jolt. She tried not to react in any way, but she tensed before she could stop it. When she felt his hand squeezing her thigh,she bit down on her lower lip just to keep from purring at the contact. Sad to say, yeah.. It had been a while.

By the time the interview was over, she found herself thinking, she was definitely going to need a long and cold shower. When Jay leaned in and whispered against her ear quietly, “You’ll remember exactly who I am soon enough, princess. After all, I am the one who erased the memory t’ start with..Only I can fully restore it. Maybe I will, princess..” in a slightly smug tone,Esme boldly met his gaze and raised a brow..“You really believe you erased my memory? Well okay then.. whatever helps you get by, Jay. And I do believe, sir, you have me mistaken with someone else. Because I’m telling you, I have never met you until your publicist reached out, saying you requested me to do this interview.”

“Oh no.. I’d never forget the way those legs feel around my waist.. Or the way it feels to wrap my hand in your hair and tug on it as I take you from behind.. Tell me somethin, princess… Do y’still have that little birthmark on yer bum? The slightly heart shaped one.”

Esme’s cheeks flushed bright red and despite her best efforts, warmth pooled to her cheeks and between her thighs. Her panties were soaked. She clenched her thighs tighter, trapping Jay’s hand just as it slid between them. Jay shifted in his seat as he felt the sticky warmth coating her inner thigh. His hand crept higher and Esme jumped a little in her seat, thankful for the front of the table being made to look like a desk and thus, being totally hidden from view. Her heart started to beat wildly against her chest and she took a labored breath.

Jay stopped, meeting her gaze with the calmest look on her face.

Irked by it, she decided to get a little payback. She lowered one of her hands covertly, slipping it right into his lap. The second he felt her hand rubbing at the bulge strained against his leather jeans, he gave an audible grunt and smirked to himself.

Esme bit down on her lip just to keep from whimpering into her mic as she felt Jay’s thick digits brushing the soaked cotton covering her cunt to the side. As his fingers trailed lazily over her folds, she fought desperately for composure.

Jay wasn’t going to allow it, apparently because nearly the instant she got herself reasonably composed, she felt two of those thick fingertips working her open. Just to see if he’d stop if she called his bluff, she shifted in her seat, bucking against his fingers as she did so. As all this transpired, the two of them were masks of composure, carrying on the interview as if absolutely nothing else was taking place.

Esme started to rub at the bulge strained against his jeans a little harder and faster as soon as she felt Jay’s own pace changing and heard him swear under his breath. She worked the zip down and her hands slipped into his silk boxers, circling his cock, pumping up and down slowly and lazily, lingering long enough at the tip to trail a fingertip over it. Jay’s legs opened wider to give her more room and his fingers continued to fuck in and out of her cunt, his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing a circular motion. He bucked as carefully as possible against her hand, biting his lip. Esme smirked and slowed down her strokes drastically under a warning look from him during a third break.

Jay slowed down the movements of his own fingers as he felt her starting to tighten and tense at his touch. He leaned in and muttered so that no one could hear, “Goin t’ give me somethin’ t’ taste?” as he sped back up. Esme did the same, groaning as she felt his cock throbbing in her hand, felt the warm and stickiness of his seed as it lazily drizzled down his length. Her own orgasm shattered through, leaving her no choice but to dig her toes into her shoes and grip at the edge of the table they sat hidden behind as it took over. Jay felt her cunt tighten around his fingers and he felt the spasms, the warmth of her release as it flooded her panties and covered his fingers. Slipping his fingers out, he smirked as he cleaned himself up as covertly as possible -careful to make it seem as if his hands were merely resting in his lap out of sight.

The interview was ending and on shaky legs, Esme stood. She felt like she’d explode if she didn’t get somewhere with a locking door and collect herself.

Jay stood too and as soon as he went in for the handshake, he pulled her against him; suddenly not giving a fuck how it looked on screen. His tongue dragged along the outer edge of her ear covertly and he whispered; “Was good to see you again, princess. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.. We’ll be together again soon enough.”

Esme stood there, floored by his words. About five seconds into it, she was hit by all these crystal clear memories.. Of a night that until just now, she’d long forgotten about. Given the nature of her memories of Jay White from back then, she was hard pressed to figure out why in the hell she’d managed to forget all about him, but somehow she had.

… seeing him must have stirred it all up again, that’s all… she shrugged off remembering as a mere coincidence and from where Jay lurked out of sight around the corner, he smiled to himself while rubbing his chin.

Oh yes.. He would most certainly be seeing her again very, very soon. Because just like last time, he thought to himself with a smirk, she would invite him in… After all, she had to be curious what a repeat of the last night, which he’d just restored the memory of, would feel like….

#jay white fanfiction #jay white fanfic #jay white fic #jay white oneshot #jay white imagine #// public s*xual situation #// body fluids tw #// use of a glamour;mental manipulation #// vampire x human au

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k-liight · 5 years ago

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finally doing some stuff for OCs I never do anything with oop XD" here's the full cast lineup for my story Viki, which is one of my oldest stories that I still plan to do something with, lol. (they've been around even before I started teaching myself how to draw!) these guys have been through a LOT of redesigns over the years, but I'm pretty satisfied with these designs. I changed the plot a bit to make it more of a sci-fi story, but a lot of the the original themes still stand X3 and now I'm gonna ramble about the characters and the story like I always do lol

the story starts with Steve Emmerson and Julia Sezmachek, a young couple whose relationship was like that in a fairy-tale. ask anyone who knew them, and they'd say that no two souls had never been more in love. Julia was young and sweet and beautiful, like a Disney princess, and Steve was her chivalrous Prince Charming who would do anything for his princess. their wedding was one of the happiest days of their lives, and when they one day found out Julia was pregnant, they were overjoyed. the majority of Julia's pregnancy was stable and healthy as the happy couple eagerly expected a beautiful baby girl. but such happiness could never last forever. while Julia planned on being a stay-at-home mother and letting Steve earn money as a doctor, she was also an insanely curious woman, so it was only a matter of time before she found out of Steve's connections with scientists whose work did not follow basic safety codes. in her curiosity, she stumbled upon the lab of one of her husband's friends, where she had an accident just days before her due date. no one knows exactly what happened in that lab. but when Steve suddenly heard screaming from the lab and frantically rushed over to the scene, his wife was on the floor, in pain, strange chemicals scattered all around her, and her water had just broke. there was no time to investigate what happened as Steve frantically rushed Julia to the hospital to deliver their baby. and when they arrived, it didn't take the doctors long to realize that the baby Julia was giving birth to was much, much different from what they saw in the sonograms. one emergency c-section later, and Julia had given birth to a monster. 18 years later, Viktoria Emmerson, more commonly known as simply Viki, wonders what her life would have been like if her parents hadn't been so horrified of her monstrous form that they gave her up to a literally underground research facility. like her mother, Viki is very curious and sweet-natured, but she can be rather temperamental, and her feral instincts make it hard for her to control her emotions. she longs to explore the outside world, and Dr Jacinda Calleron, the woman who more or less raised Viki as her own daughter, also wishes the young mutant could have some freedom, but she knows that Viki would never be entirely safe out there. standing at 6'9" without even counting her horns or her ears, well over 200 pounds of muscle, and freakishly mutated, Viki is far too fearsome in appearance for her to be seen by just anyone. she also has immense physical strength and sharpened senses, something Dr Chad Ingrid likes to take advantage of. you see, the facility Viki has been raised in is no more ethical in nature than the scientists Steve used to work with, and Dr Ingrid has ran countless cruel experiments on poor Viki to help him create his own "supplements". Dr Calleron has never approved of any of the experiments Viki suffered through in her life, and if it weren't for her, the mutant's existence would be much more bleak, but Dr Calleron has gifted her with many things to enrich Viki's life. thanks to her, Viki was able to learn many artistic skills and research whatever subject she wanted. because of this, she is quite book-smart and very musically talented, but socially naive. Viki feels like it's her fault that Jacinda and Chad are forced to work together even though they don't get along in the slightest, and when they get into a huge fight, Viki disguises herself and finally escapes from the research facility that night. Viki bravely manages to hitch herself onto a moving train in the middle of the night and rides it until she comes up to a small Texan town that morning. that's where she meets the Danlane family-- parents Hank and Denalia, siblings Dinah, Ralphie, and Ben, and their Great Pyrenees dog Snowstorm. they're pretty well-known in the area for their goofy yet friendly nature, and Hank is something of a local celebrity due to his job as a rodeo clown. as a running gag, his face is never shown without clown makeup. his Romani wife Denalia was a dancer in her youth, but now makes good money as an electrician. perhaps that's where their daughter Dinah got her intelligence from-- she's currently in college for engineering and is already great and building and fixing mechanical things! her love for greasy workshops and working with power-tools doesn't stop her from being a girly-girl at heart though X3 meanwhile Ralphie is likely the biggest dork in town, but he's great at making people laugh. in fact, he aims to become a stand-up comedian one day! and young Ben is rather innocent and kinda spacey, but his positive nature is contagious. he's very physically agile and can dance like his mother, but he's also a skilled tree-climber, to the point where people affectionately compare him to a monkey. Viki is immediately attracted to him and quickly falls in love with Ben. and Snowstorm is your typical pooch who has NO clue how huge he is and frequently crushes poor smol Ben by sitting in his lap, but he can't possibly be mad at THAT face X3 they're the first people to befriend Viki and even offer to let her stay with them, and when they accidentally see her without her disguise, they don't shun her for her monstrous appearance and accept her. and for the first time ever, Viki feels truly happy. Viki also meets three aspiring rockers-- Zeke Choi is a smooth, confident metal guitarist and Dinah's boyfriend. Celia Choi, Zeke's twin sister and Ralphie's girlfriend, is generally very soft-spoken, but don't let that fool you-- this girl can SCREAM! she prefers to take the backseat as a bassist, though. and Penny Hamilton is an eccentric drummer who used to date Ben before realizing her true identity as a lesbian. to this day, they're best friends. the three of them needed a singer to complete their rock band, so when they discover Viki has a beautiful voice, they know they found their frontwoman~ it's not all fun and games after Viki runs away from the facility though, as Dr Ingrid is in pursuit to get her back and Viki has to protect her friends as well as come to terms with her mommy and daddy issues. but perhaps she needs to learn how to accept herself before she can do any of that...

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

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2019 writing recap!

I’ve seen a couple of people do this, and it seems like a fun way to go back through what I’ve done this past year in terms of writing + give some recognition to the other talented people in this fandom.

Answers under the cut because it’s long! (Everything is linked because SCREW YOU TUMBLR)

favorite fic you wrote this year: I have two favorites.

1. Neon Lights, which started out as a prompt request based on a song, and has spawned 100,000 words via the stories, the HCs and the random character asks… and has given me a much better understanding of Ryan Brenner as a character.

2. You’re all going to be super surprised at this…. But it’s Here Comes the Sun, because it gave me a chance to write Logan in a VERY different way than I did with Tonight… and seeing him wholly happy is so nice.

least favorite fic you wrote this year: The First of Many, which was my one foray into writing for Frank/Karen… and I killed Billy in it, so that was a disaster.

favorite line/scene you wrote this year: A few of the ones that stick out to me:

Neon Lights, chapter 4: “Hey, I’m listening to what you’re sayin’, but if it’s alright, I’m gonna kiss you now.” The words were quiet, his voice a little hoarse. Yes, God, yes. You reached up with the arm that he wasn’t holding on to and touched his hair while you nodded, and then his lips met yours. You sighed into the kiss, and unless you were imagining things, he did too. It was brief, but when he pulled away he was smiling. “I’ve wanted to do that since yesterday.”

Take a Sip, part 2: “Caspian?” You met his eyes and he saw that you were trying to hold it together. “Will you help me get this dress off, please?” He moved quickly, pulling you to your feet and unlacing the front of your dress, fingers shaking as he untied the strings. His hands moving to your shoulders, he squeezed them before turning you gently around, undoing the buttons on the back of your dress - so much like he had the first night he’d ever touched you, the dress falling to your waist and then to the floor, revealing a shift beneath it. “Thank you, my King.”

He heard the tears in your voice and blinked back his own as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to the bare skin of one shoulder and then the other, fingers gathering your hair to lift it and expose more of you to him. But you didn’t let him linger as you turned, giving him a small smile as you reached forward, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and waiting until he’d shrugged it off before moving to help him remove his vest. Neither of you spoke, but he knew what you were thinking - that it could be the last time you touched each other, the last time…

Remember What You Told Me, part 2: When Logan and Reader confront William in the bar... it was so damn satisfying.

He’s Not Here (Interlude): History: This was such a fun scenario to write because... why would Billy ever think that someone would need him to take care of them when they’re sick? I loved exploring this side of him, and helping him learn that it was OK to open up.

total number of words you wrote this year: Based on adding up everything on my Masterlist pages + including the word count of the HNH file… 620,000 words… and that doesn’t include anything that I’ve got a few paragraphs of in WiP files, the HCs or the character asks that I’ve done.

That’s …. 1557 pages in a typical novel…. So basically, because I love writing, I wrote FIFTEEN HUNDRED PAGES WORTH OF WORDS. Yikes.

most popular fic this year: People have really seemed to connect with He’s Not Here, and that makes sense, because it’s my longest running series and Billy’s... been given a chance to be different, which is always nice to write and read about.

Exit Row was also super popular.

But the most popular single post of 2019 for me? Billy Russo’s NSFW alphabet.

least popular fic this year: Tonight, which disappoints me, because I love it. I get that it’s a little dark, but... it was necessary, because Logan’s not perfect.

And Neon Lights/Just a Place… which is super disappointing, because it’s Ryan and everyone should love him.

longest completed fic you wrote this year: Neon Lights ended up being 60,000 words.

shortest completed fic you wrote this year: All of the drabbles that I wrote in March are super short (I think they averaged about 700 words) … but I think that “On the Spot” is the shortest thing I’ve ever written at 500 words EXACTLY.

longest wip of the year: He’s Not Here… which is currently (after 20 chapters) at 82,000+ words - for the main story.

shortest wip of the year: Hmm… I’m thinking that this is PROBABLY the second part of Ink, which has been sitting in my WiP folder since September, and is only about 200 words long right now.

favorite character to write about this year: This is a very unfair question, because I love all of my characters and stories, but...I honestly, (and this will come as no surprise) loved writing Logan the most in all forms. There’s so much that can be done with his character, and exploring it has been a LOT of fun for me.

favorite writing song/artist/album of this year: I wrote LOT while listening to the “Feeding the Wolves” album by 10 Years (it’s GREAT for Billy). I also think that I wrote almost all of Neon Lights while listening almost exclusively to acoustic guitar covers of songs that had NOTHING to do with the story.

a fic you didn’t expect to write: I never thought I’d write Caspian, and here we are, 6 chapters later + a follow up with His Favorite Place.

fic(s) you completed this year: I don’t even know, it’s got to be close to 40, maybe more with all of the prompt requests and all that. It doesn’t seem like that many, but I just scrolled through my masterlist, so I guess it must be.

fics you’ll continue next year: Just a Place. He’s Not Here. Here Comes the Suniverse. Ben/Reader Exit Row universe… so many.

current number of wips: Too many. At least 15. It’s insane.

any new fics to start next year: There’s one for sure that I want to write ASAP because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for like a solid week and a half.

most memorable comment/review: I love each and every single one of you that takes the time to comment - or even to message me and keysmash - but I think that the handwritten comments from @its-my-little-dumpster-fire and @the-blind-assassin-12 are some of my favorites (and I’m sure those of you that have also received them will agree) .... it’s just overwhelming to me. And so is hearing that I overwhelmed you, or made you smile, or that you felt like you were IN the story. I am shit at replying to every single comment, but I try my best, and I can’t thank you enough for all of your kind words and encouragement.

events you participated in this year: I participated in zero events aside from the ones that I set up for myself when I asked people for requests.

fics you wanted to write but didn’t: There’s Logan story that I’ve been sitting on since last December (I remember wrapping presents and contemplating it) … there’s a Logan one shot that I want to write and don’t want to write at the same time. I have a Caspian story that is ITCHING to be written, and might be one of the first things I write in 2020.

favorite fic you read this year:

Death of a Bachelor by @delos-mio: Logan Delos X Reader ... and it’s a RIDE.I vividly remember pulling my phone out in between bands at a concert to read the most recent chapter and I can’t wait for her to finish it

With Courage by @halfwit-halfblood : Caspian x OC, and it features one of the strongest and most relatable OCs that I have ever read in my life. I am absolutely sucked in every new chapter.

By Design by @luminex3: Billy Russo x Reader... and it’s literally everything that I could ever ask for in a non-canon Billy, because he’s still Billy, but he’s much less of an idiot than the REAL Billy. And her details? The dedication to her characters? It was BEAUTIFUL.

... there were so many others, if you want more suggestions, please feel free to ask, because I have so many favorites.

a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read:

‘Deed I Do by @its-my-little-dumpster-fire: John Whittaker x Reader .... and it’s PERFECT. And it’s spawned so many fun companion pieces. (PARTICULARLY ‘My Private Affair’... which literally KILLED ME.

Oblivion by @the-blind-assassin-12: Logan Delos x Reader... and it’s a lot to handle, but it shows just how strong Logan could truly be if he was given the chance/motivation

A Familiar Face by @illshowyourhurricanes/ @suchatinyinfinity: Ryan Brenner x Reader... and it shows why the simple moments are the most important. Her Ryan is so thoughtful, and I just love him.

number of favorites/bookmarks you made this year: I liked a LOT of stories on Tumblr. A ton, in fact. A literal fuckton. I read a lot this year.

favorite fanfic author of the year: It’s really unfair to make me choose a favorite, so I’ll list some that I truly enjoy in no particular order:

@halfwit-halfblood

@delos-mio

@the-blind-assassin-12

@its-my-little-dumpster-fire

@madamrogersstorytelling

@logans-chestnuts

#end of the year #writing #reflections #i wrote a lot #recommendations #my friends are talented #masterlist #fanfic answers #2019 in review

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gffa · 6 years ago

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I was really excited to post this set of STAR WARS recs because it contained some of my favorite fics of recent times and there are some fics in the fandom that are SO INCREDIBLY GOOD, it’s a marvel to me that every time I feel like things are slowing down, I remember there’s this other fic that makes me want to yell at the top of my lungs to fandom about how much I loved it and then there’s that other one, too! It’s the best kind of problem to have, to feel like there’s so much fic I want to yell about and how satisfying some of them can be! That this post got so long because I just had so much I wanted to flail about! STAR WARS FIC RECS: TIME TRAVEL RECS: ✦ A Change of Pace by ShadeCrawler, ahsoka & plo & cast, time travel, 1.7k Where the portals in the World between Worlds decide that Ahsoka is needed in a different time instead of her own. PREQUELS RECS: ✦ Finding Balance by Raven_Knight, qui-gon & dooku & jocasta, 1.4k Eleven-year-old Padawan Jinn is left behind while his Master goes on a mission off-planet. Qui-Gon is left in the care of Jocasta Nu, and he’s not exactly enthusiastic about it. ✦ And the Void Answered Back by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan & anakin & rey & finn & poe & ben & yoda & maz & cast, force ghosts, 52.7k wip (Follows the Force ghosts of Anakin, Obi Wan, and friends getting dragged kicking and screaming through the events of The Force Awakens) ✦ Lineage by floraandfauna (irisgoddess), mace & depa & kanan & ezra & oc, ~1k Mace trains Depa. Depa trains Caleb. Kanan trains Ezra. And Ezra trains someone new. “Breathe.” ✦ Passing by Nny11, ahsoka/barriss & luminara & cast, modern au, 2.5k wip Barriss claims she’s dating Ahsoka, Ahsoka agrees to go along with it, and both of them spend the next 6 months worrying the other will discover their crush on the other. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, padme & cast, 1.2k Something about Senator Mandai’s words and the emergency session at the Senate has bothered Padmé for days. ✦ untitled by swhurtcomfort, obi-wan & anakin, hurt!anakin, 1.7k Obi-Wan was still stepping backwards, mumbling something about it being fine, but Anakin cut him off, showing him the dead insect in his palm. “Is this the kind you’re allergic to or not? Obi-Wan?” ✦ starblossom by skatzaa, bail/breha, 2k The crown princess of Alderaan isn’t known for traipsing across random valleys, especially after her accident, or so he’s heard. Apparently those rumors were wrong, as they often are. ✦ Lithops by dimtraces, maul & savage, 6.5k Kycina didn’t meet Sidious, the day she decided to smuggle her son off-planet and into freedom. Thirty-four years later, Maul is a dedicated Jedi Knight, and he’s content to ignore his unfortunate beginnings. The appearance of another Dathomiri zabrak on the battlefields of the Clone Wars makes that considerably harder. ✦ Highly Dissatisfied by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 1.1k Obi-Wan enters the quarters he shares with his Master, intending to ask for help in preparation for his exams. Qui-Gon, however, is dealing with a far more urgent matter. ✦ the in-between by darlingargents, anakin & ahsoka, ~1k The battle ends like any other battle they’ve won. ✦ untitled by swhurtcomfort, obi-wan & anakin, hurt!anakin, 1.3k Obi-Wan just narrowly pulls it off—gets in, extracts Anakin, gets out. He’s trying not to think about it too much. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ The Devil’s Own by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & cast, regency au, 13.5k wip Some whisper the Skywalker family is the devil’s own, and no tutors in the area will take on the orphaned Lord, a young man famous for his excessive drinking, riding, and dueling. The townspeople shake their heads at the arrival of the latest tutor, a London scholar out of money and other options, wondering how long it will be before this Kenobi is run out like all the rest. ✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & asajj & dooku & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 109.1k wip the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Kenobi is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ The Missing Part by Nightstar269, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, nsfw, modern au, 85.5k wip Anakin Skywalker, a student of mechanical engineering, has always felt that his life was lacking something, a feeling that was made much worse with the deaths of his mother first, and of the woman he loved some time later. Still haunted by the pain and heartbreak, he tries to go on with his life as well as he can. When an initiative of the director of the university has the students attending the classes of another degree so as to enrich their knowledge, he will meet someone that will turn his world upside down. ✦ Upfall by bell (belldreams), , obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & obi-wan/satine & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, 38.3k wip Anakin is doing just about everything he can to hold himself together; it won’t last. ✦ Shaak Herding for the Troubled and Lonely by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka & plo & cast, au, 28.4k wip Disgraced Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was content to live out the rest of his life as a hermit until the Prime Minister appeared at his door, begging him to attend the Skywalker clan’s annual party. ✦ Across the Darkness by xpityx, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & cast, NSFW, 20.6k Obi-Wan knew they had hit the temple’s inner security measures when Anakin went from calm to clutching both Obi-Wan and his lightsaber between one step and the next. ✦ Abyssus Abyssum Invocat by Burning_Nightingale, obi-wan/anakin, 10.3k While searching for Separatists on the very edge of the Unknown Regions, Obi-Wan and Anakin discover three things. A Chiss pilot in desperate need of their help; a Jedi Temple more ancient than the Republic itself; and a dire warning. ✦ The Garden by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & rex & cody & cast, a/b/o, 3.1k wip Nothing is ever simple with Anakin Skywalker. ✦ Ghost by pisum_sativum, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 1.8k Obi-Wan died on Naboo, but the dead couldn’t stay dead. ✦ The Devoted by shadowsong26, obi-wan/anakin/padme & ahsoka, 35.5k In another galaxy, this would be the year the Clone Wars began. In this one, it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the fall of the Republic. Obi-Wan Kenobi and his partner, former Senator Padme Amidala, are fugitives and–when the opportunity arises–rebels deep in the Outer Rim, when a chance encounter with an Inquisitor brings Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano into their lives… ✦ 80s Roller Rink AU by goretier, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & padme & maul & cast, modern au, 4k wip Obi-Wan as owner of a roller rink in a small American town with all those small American town vibes. Anakin as jailbait/barely legal slut who frequents the rink just to get in his pants. ✦ Untouchable by Blu3sc0rpion, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, non-con issues/themes, 50.2k wip A mission on Kraysiss-Two takes a turn for the worse. Ancient Sith designs work against both Obi-wan and Anakin as they desperately try to find a way off world. In the throes of confusion their relationship begins to spiral. They might be able to escape, but can they ever truly be rescued? ✦ Immersion by zaelish, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k Or: Battlefront 2 told me that Anakin apparently likes to sing, so here’s a tiny thingy to celebrate and appreciate that ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ Aristocrats in Foxholes by primeideal, bail/breha & han(/leia), 1.2k Bail and Breha live to see the destruction of the Death Star–and their daughter’s unusual choice of companions. REBELS RECS: ✦ Papa by rebel_wren, hera & cham, 1.1k “Cham Syndulla had heard the word “papa” a million times before, but he’d never truly heard it until it came from the mouth of a tiny, light green little girl with budding lekku for the first time.” SEQUELS RECS: ✦ Buried by weakinteraction, rey, 1.3k Rey has to return to Jakku. ✦ Light Amidst The Dark by dasakuryo, rey & finn & poe, 1.9k The Aftermath of Crait catches up to Finn, Poe and Rey. ✦ we are here and it is now by victoria_p (musesfool), rey & anakin & luke, 3.5k “So either you’re not here or you’re not living,” she says. “I’m definitely here,” he replies, and there’s amusement in his voice. ✦ Keep Coming Back by SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance), han & rey & chewbacca & cast, 5.5k Rey never expected that Han and Chewbacca would keep coming back. ✦ Sorrows the Worlds Know Not by Maidenjedi, leia & holdo, 1k Leia, in mourning, and Amilyn, having fled, meet and grow up, and resist. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #ahsoka tano #obikin #rey #han solo #luke skywalker #bail organa #breha organa #qui gon jinn #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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askiisoft · 5 years ago

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FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 3

Welcome back to Part 3 of “All the Warriors”, a month-long celebration of the Katana ZERO community’s fan characters that populate the war-torn cityscape and seedy underworld of New Mecca.

For those just joining us, be sure to read Part 1 and Part 2 first.

Remember, Friday, August 16th is the last day to submit your OC for next week’s feature!

This week is full of tragedy, loss, and pyromania, so have a handkerchief (and maybe a fire extinguisher) on hand as we dive into this feel-bad parade of forgotten soldiers. Let’s have a look!

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 3, by @nizioroMOMO

There was once a cheerful young girl who loved nothing more than all that glittered and shined, from the brightest jewels to the starry skies. Unfortunately, on the battlefield most things that glitter also explode, which robbed poor Alpha 3 of her sight and thus her most beloved pursuit in life.

It’s terrible to be wounded in combat, but losing your passion is something much worse. Imagine if Zero went deaf, forced to massacre mafioso without synthwave blasting from his headphones. Would life still be worth living?

Her character design clearly communicates the eager naïveté of the young Three compared to her stately, serene self now. Whatever happened, it seems she’s made peace with her past, which is more than can be said for most NULL.

By @nizioroMOMO

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Subject X2 by @teknopathetico

“Chronos wasn’t the only drug the government developed for the war.”

We may never know what chemical cocktail the Psychiatrist injected to transform into a writhing mountain of flesh, but whatever it was, Subject X2 has had years to perfect its use. Rather than an amalgam of body horror, X2 seems able to tap into each enemy’s individual phobias to instill doubt and gain the upper hand.

“I know what you’re afraid of.” By @teknopathetico

Since the drug’s effects were stated to be purely psychological, fear-inducing pheromones are the only feasible explanation for X2′s feats of transformation that defy all physical laws and vary wildly between witness testimonies.

By @teknopathetico

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Beta 7, “Bullet” by @stanio_kz

As far as dying wishes go, simply “live” is no tall order. But that one word carries a lifetime of survivor’s guilt for Bullet. Was it his fault the Cromags managed to get past their lines that day? Should they have made a retreat, despite their orders? Could he have done something for Shadow in the last few moments together in those muddy jungle trenches?

Some days, simply slogging through a guard detail and enjoying a hot meal is enough to convince Bullet he’s living up to his friend’s memory. But each time he visits the grave, he wonders if Shadow wouldn’t wanted something more—revenge on his killer, perhaps, or for Bullet to lay down his old knife and stop fighting for good.

“I don’t know what’s right anymore. Shadow..what do I do?” By @stanio_kz

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Beta 9, “Shadow” by @stanio_kz

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Gamma 68, “Cheshire” by @lesbianakechi

There is, however, a darker side to losing a dearest comrade—namely, the urge to inflict that same loss on others. To be hunted by a Gamma NULL is truly terrifying; to the hapless police investigators, there is no modus operandi linking the “Chesire” murders, beyond targeting assorted outcasts and junkies. But to those who knew Sasha as a model commander and caring mentor, seeing how far he’s fallen is as disturbing as his sickly rictus grin.

There are whispers that the New Meccan government has stymied several investigations against him—one by one, he is cleaning up vestiges of their war crimes more effectively than their own agents ever could.

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Beta 70, “Cherry” by @zenixdd

For all his rage against his former masters, Gamma Fifteen was positively blessed compared to the miserable fates of his comrades like Cherry, who lacked any hope of leading a normal life.

Maimed and orphaned before she even joined the NULL project, Cherry received prototype prosthetics that elevated her far above a line trooper. However, she was treated as a weapon by her commanders, and her joy at her newfound mobility turned to horror and, eventually, resignation.

Once the nigh-invincible Gamma subjects were introduced, her prosthetics program was deemed redundant, and she was reduced to becoming a guinea pig for their horrific experiments.

By @zenixdd

With the shuttering of the NULL program, Cherry’s fate was left a mystery. Most assumed her death as a matter of course, executed and ‘disposed’ of like so many other expendable test subjects. But there were a few rumors of her miraculous escape—either as a sole survivor, freed at last, or a fearsome revenant, bent on exacting revenge on the Gamma NULL she blames for condemning her to suffer in the labs...

“I’ll kill them all...especially those f*cking NULLs!” By @zenixdd

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Gamma 17, “Robin Hood” by @RollingRubic

To erase the the NULL program from history, the head researchers resorted to extreme measures. All across the country, records were burned, training centers demolished, and subjects ‘disposed of’—all except one. Cleanup crews reported a ransacked facility, its research staff dead and riddled with arrows, its holding cells empty, and its Chronos stockpile gone.

In a time when it’s every NULL for themselves among an ever-dwindling supply of Chronos, it’s heartening to see at least one person showing charity and concern for the helpless. But in his heart, Robin knows his ‘family’ can’t subsist on stolen Chronos forever—as long as they live, they will be hunted.

His ultimate goal has become procuring the formula for Chronos to start synthesizing a fresh supply, something the New Meccan authorities fear above all else. In his eyes, the lives of dozens of orphaned children far outweighs the risks, even if it forces him to work with some less than savory characters...

"We’re family.” By @RollingRubic

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Alpha 20, “Twenty” by @erinwenke

For a time, the deployment of NULL was considered a state secret, the disappearance of entire villages attributed to natural disasters or sudden epidemics. This was all thanks to ‘cleaners’ like Alpha 20, who were tasked with razing any ‘assets’ the Cromags could use, including the local population.

In the wake of how often NULL were deployed against civilian targets, the then-cumbersome weight of his fuel tank was nothing compared to the crushing burden of guilt he carries now.

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Gamma 216, “Candy” by @Mochisticker274

During pangs of Chronos withdrawal, it was common for NULL to develop lesser addictions to cope with their major one. For some, it was cigarettes, caffeine, or alcohol. Candy instead found relief in vast quantities of sugar, though any colorful and bite-sized would suffice. Following multiple reprimands for rifling through pockets of fallen Cromags in search of treats, her superiors quickly relented after witnessing her fierce temper from being denied “snacky-time” one time too many.

Considering the loss of her left eye, hair, and part of her sanity, Candy’s attitude is admirable: rather than sulk over her former girlish charms, she took the opportunity to further indulge her sweet tooth. At least that’s an addiction that’s easily satisfied.

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Gamma 95 by @Tomacocandy

I’m surprised it took this long to encounter an OC with heterochromia (differently-colored eyes).

On account of her nascent amblyopia, Gamma 95′s miserable marksmanship earned her ridicule at the shooting range and scoldings from her drill sergeant. When she disappeared on the eve of inspections, some speculated that she had deserted in shame or been ‘retired’ to become the labs’ latest test subject.

But when 95 emerged from the jungle depths days later, clothes torn and smelling of ash, she had found her calling. Soon, she realized she didn’t need perfect eyesight to sweep a ten-foot-long gout of liquid flame across a battlefield...and thus, a legend was born.

Most pyrotechnicians were relegated to ‘cleanup’ duty away from the frontlines; only Mondsa possessed the Gamma reflexes necessary to employ a flamethrower in live combat, a tradition that Subject Zero would proudly continue.

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Gamma 18 by @ruko_ruho

Short of getting banned from every casino in Chinatown, fortune-telling is a decent way to make a living off of one’s precognitive ability, so long as you’re only curious about events sixty seconds into the future.

For Gamma 18, risking his life as a test subject and frontline trooper was preferable to scrounging for scraps in the streets of New Mecca. However, his street-smarts proved just as valuable in the field as his drug-induced powers, using improvised traps, terrain, and trickery to his advantage almost as well as the Cromags he hunted. When that failed, his skills with knives more than compensated.

Once locals noticed the absence of his folding card table along the main Chinatown plaza, rumors abounded of government bogeymen abducting him in the dead of night. But those who fought alongside Eighteen know that he’s far too clever to let anyone get the best of him.

By @ruko_ruho

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Beta 8 by @2M_i_W_5

Hopelessly addicted to gambling despite your rotten luck? Still single at the depressing and decrepit age of 25? What’s the point in going on, Beta 8 asks?

Suicide is a very serious topic, let’s be clear. But like how the captive Prometheus cursed his godhood as eagles ate his liver in Greek mythology, the age-old irony of an immortal being powerless to end their own life has always been a rich vein for drama...and it seems drama is what this woman hungers for.

By @wqwrppwu

Unlike so many veterans who fit the trope for ‘wounded warriors', Neith radiates the energy of ‘recently divorced working mother’: she may be pounding back martinis and sobbing like the world’s ended right now, but after a heart-to-heart with her old comrade Beta 11 and a cuddle session with her newly-adopted cat, perhaps she’ll conclude there’s still some things worth living for.

By @2M_i_W_5

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Gamma 6, “Firecracker” by @whycantIrungood

Just like a wildfire, Suzy the “Firecracker” was both notoriously destructive and difficult to control. She scoffed at the slow, surgical tactics of executioner-class NULL in favor of the loudest and most direct path to her objective, be it through enemy lines or solid structures; neither withstood the roar of her twin rotary guns for long.

Since the end of the war, Suzy’s learned that she is both immensely talented at arson and intensely bored by it. What’s the point of torching a crime scene when the killing’s already done? Despite the suspicious deaths of so many other ex-NULL who remained in the government’s service, Suzy knows her skills are far too valuable and dangerous for the higher-ups to make an enemy of her.

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Beta 18, “Cerberus” by @zhraekk

The ghettoes of Chinatown have become a welcome refuge for NULL seeking protection from government spooks and bounty hunters. But for Cerberus, joining the underworld was never his choice to make.

Whether due to Chronos dependency, blackmail, or his ‘Aunt Meta’ simply needing a new enforcer, it seems his post-war life involves feigning respect for his doting boss while pining for his NULL days. Violent though they were, they’re also his last precious memories of his missing brother.

As the ranks of New Mecca’s crime syndicates swell with former NULL acting as guards and assassins, he’s come to understand the city’s underworld politics are every bit as fraught as the trap-laden Cromag jungles.

By @zhraekk

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Beta 5, “Boots” by @sekaaliart

With their finger on a trigger, a child is as dangerous as any adult. Beta 5 earned her nickname “Boots” after her child feet barely filled even the smallest combat boots the barracks could find, a light-hearted anecdote that belies just how early she was indoctrinated into a life of conflict. As her kill count skyrocketed, the ‘shorty’ and ‘kid’ jokes among her squad quickly ceased.

For Boots, the end of the war was simply a move from jungle to urban warfare, a sniper’s paradise. She gives no warning, and leaves no calling card. With NULL powers now fully developed, not even her former comrades are safe from her crosshairs.

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Beta 13 by @818CoffeeCat

When public expectations for a speedy invasion were dashed against the realities of waging war in thick Cromag jungles, the top New Mecca brass commissioned a solution for rapid defoliation. Through testing countless chemical weapons, their top prospect was (somehow) Project “Flame Force”, a platoon of prototype terror troopers trained to raze entire forests in minutes.

The project was not a success.

Now armed with a high-tech chemical flamethrower, his fireproof avian partner Ernesto, and a crazed look in his eye, the sole survivor of that ill-fated project marches on the oh-so-flammable city. Beware.

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I made quite a few errors with last week’s post, so if you notice any glaring mistakes, please let me know via Twitter. Remember to send any last-minute OC submissions by Friday, August 16th.

Otherwise, click here to read Part 4, the jumbo-sized final entry of “All the Warriors”, and stay safe out there.

Thanks to @818CoffeeCat for letting me use that “Beware” sticker all over the place!

By @55_yamisan

#katana zero #katanazero #askiisoft #devolver digital #fan art #fan art friday #original character #do #not #steal

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