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fallenasleepyetagain · 1 year ago

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Boat Conversations - Dreamswap Fic

Part One

(although you don't need to read it before you read this one)

Media: UTMV/UTAU - Dreamswap

Genres: Pirate AU, human AU, the trio of Buffoons talking about their experiences at sea, gen-fic, dialogue & exposition heavy? (it's fun tho I promise), can be interpreted as romance, Kevin is featured pretty prominently (he's my silly guy), can be seen as romance, heavy emphasis on Nightmare and Error's relationship

Characters: Nightmare, Cross (she/her), Error (she/her), Kevin the Chicken, Dream (mentioned), Ink (she/her, mentioned), Blue (mentioned), unnamed members of Cross' family (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Cross/Nightmare/Error (Their relationship can be taken either romantically or platonically)

CW/TW: Mention of family death, mention of a suicide mission, mentions of abuse (nothing in detail), mentions of ship crashes, if you know the characters' backstories then any TW for them apply here.

Other Notes: @raccoon-in-a-dumpster I wrote more :3 This time featuring the Meme Squad! (sorry it took a bit LOL)

Word Count: 5373 Words

The small boat swayed side to side along the water. The sail was down, but not aimed anywhere. The moon was at its fullest and the sky was clear. All of the stars in the sky sparkled and reflected in the water. The boat itself was small, and only housed three people and a chicken. Yes, a chicken. A seaside chicken that wasn’t meant for eating was certainly unusual, but Nightmare would never do anything without his best buddy. Speaking of, Nightmare was one of the three members aboard the small ship. The ship was made of a gorgeous red wood, with one large sail, one small sail, and not many other decorations on it. It was a pretty ship, but not exactly extravagant. Not like Dream von Licht’s Radiance. Nightmare stroked Kevin’s (that's the chicken) hackles, the small bird trilling as he did so. Nightmare walked the length of his ship, which wasn’t named. It was likely that he would have to replace it sooner rather than later. He couldn’t get attached to it. Dream always came by with his troops and burned down, punctured holes, or whatever the fuck else to his ship.

The amount of boats he had gone through within the couple of months he’s been with his two other buddies was well into the double digits. It was exhausting having to steal ships constantly, and having to get new stuff over and over. Sometimes, he just considered handing himself over to Dream, that it wasn’t worth the trouble of fighting back. He always shook his head and tried desperately not to think about that kind of outcome. He wasn’t going to give up that easily. If Dream wanted him, then the bastard would have to get him himself.

The chicken in his arms shifted and squirmed, and Nightmare set Kevin down and gently scratched his head. He had made it to the helm of the boat and glanced around. It was quiet, and the air was crisp. It wasn’t a terribly cold night, and he was able to just wear a short-sleeved shirt without much issue. He slipped his hands into his pockets, Kevin trailing him, preening himself every so often. He looped around the helm and then started a trek back to the otherside of the boat. He wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight, so pacing the boat and hanging out with his chicken was the plan for the night.

Once Nightmare got to the other side of the boat, he realized that staying up wasn’t going to be a solo activity. Kevin cooed, announcing both his and Nightmare’s presence to Error who was sitting at the edge of the boat. She appeared unconcerned at the fact that she could fall right over into the ocean. She had a cup of coffee in her hands, and it was still steaming.

Nightmare shifted awkwardly on his feet, “Hey?”

Error flinched slightly, but turned her head around. She pushed up her red, comically large, rounded glasses. Settling them on her nose. “Sup. Have a seat?”

Without too much difficulty, Nightmare hopped over the fence and plopped next to Error, a good amount of space between them. Error had a whole set up out here, damn. With a fresh cup of coffee, and some sort of crochet project in her lap. There was also a lantern on the opposite side of her, sitting precariously on the fence behind her.

“Does that not give you anxiety?” Nightmare asked, wheezing out slightly. She took a glance at what he was referring to, that being the lantern.

Error shrugged, the crochet needles clinking together as she mindlessly worked on the project. “It’ll be fine. I’m pretty much anxious all the time.”

“SAME!” Cross shouted from the window leading to the living space. Error put her head in her hands and Nightmare snickered.

“COME DOWN HERE AND JOIN US!” Nightmare shouted back, laughing slightly to himself.

“OK!” And the window was slammed closed.

“And there goes my peace and quiet.” Error said, accented with an eye roll and a soft, if exasperated smile. Nightmare snickered in response, and leaned back. It was a little nerve wracking, being at the very edge of the ship. Luckily the skies were clear, and the water wasn’t moving too fast. If one of them were to fall in, they’d be alright. It would be scary and shitty but they wouldn’t drown or be left behind.

“What are you doing up?” Error asked him, going back to her crochet project.

“Couldn’t sleep. You?”

Error just shrugged, and turned to her side to pet Kevin’s head, since he had appeared out of nowhere to join them. The chicken cooed as Error stroked his head, and sat down when she ceased.

“Vague but ok.”

“My answer is the same as yours, dickhead, I couldn't sleep.”

“Don’t you complain about being tired all the time?”

“Don’t you?” Nightmare scoffed and rolled his eyes. Error got him there. He pulled up one of his legs into his lap, allowing the other one to dangle over the edge. After a few moments, Cross had finally made her way down to the back of the boat. Cross looked at the two dangling over the edge, before deciding to make the objectively correct decision to not sit along the ledge of the boat. Kevin burrowed himself in between Cross’s feet, and tucked his head back into himself, making the decision that none of the humans on the boat can seem to make: going to sleep.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Yup.” Nightmare said as Error hummed in agreement. Cross paused and slid down the fence, sitting down, her back to Nightmare’s. The boat rocked side to side gently, the waves crashing against the wood, the smell of the sea, and the sound of Error’s crocheting needles clicking together was nice. It was just the three (er…four) of them on the open water, no Dream or navy in sight. None of them could remember the last time they had a relaxed, not stressful time like this.

They had no need to be anywhere, and being on the sea was the safest option for them. They were outlawed everywhere else. Supplies were high and they had no need to make any stops. Being at sea, with no place to go in mind was nice. Just allowing the sea to take them to wherever they wanted. Cross bent down and scritched at Kevin’s neck, the rooster cooing slightly in his sleep. Nightmare yawned and stretched his arms out, his back popping as he did so.

“It’s quiet tonight.” Error spoke, her tongue sticking out of her mouth slightly as she worked.

“It’s nice though. Especially without Captain Von Bitch on our asses.”

“Mm.” Error nodded, pushing back a braid that had fallen in front of her face. “Although I do question his motives.”

“I think his motives are that he’s an asshole.”

“That is not what I mean at all but okay.”

Nightmare leaned against his knees and looked at Error. He wasn’t particularly fond of this conversation, but he wanted to see what Error was thinking. Especially if he needed to correct any factual errors that Error might have about him. The last thing he wanted was his friends believing that Dream was less of a dick than he actually was. Some people believed that Dream was some angel, and it pissed him off to no end. “What…do you mean then?”

“We do not qualify as pirates, since we hardly even steal and most violence we do is in self defense. While I don’t think our actions are well within the law - CROSS - but we aren’t pirates. And Dream exists in this weird gray area of not-pirate but also not-navy. And yet he claims that we’re pirates and he is not and it just doesn’t make sense? In all technicality he’s breaking the law as much as we are.” Error paused, “Does that make sense? I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

“No no, I totally get it.” Nightmare shook his head. “It’s because he’s a hypocrite. It’s part of who he is.” They had both deserted the navy. And yet he was the one Dream called a pirate. Truly if dramatic irony was a person, it would be Dream.

“You’ve known him for like, forever then?” Cross questioned, one of her eyebrows raised.

“Unfortunately.”

How could Nightmare not notice the quiet exchange of eye-contact between Error and Cross? The silent gesture of Error telling Cross to not to push any further. He liked that about Error, really. He knew that she understood not wanting to talk about someone, or even think about them. She knew when it was time to change subjects. He appreciated it. He pretended that he didn’t see it though, preferring to stroke Kevin’s head. The chicken purred, which is a thing that could happen! Most people associate purring with cats but chickens do it too! Nightmare loved telling Error and Cross chicken facts. Error found it less fun but Cross was always interested.

“I think it’s kind of mean to blame me for all the crimes we commit. You and Nightmare aren’t innocent either!”

Error rolled her eyes so hard that Nightmare worried that she would roll them into a different dimension. “I never said that we weren’t. You just tend to steal shit even though you don’t have to. Then we get in trouble and then we have to go back out to sea which makes us vulnerable.”

“You people don’t appreciate me.”

“I appreciate you, Cross.” Nightmare spoke, looking up at her.

A hand gently patted his forehead and he snickered, “THANK YOU.”

There was another silence, and the three took a second to listen. There was the sloshing of the waves against their vessel, Kevin’s soft trilling, the clicking of Error’s knitting needles, and no sound of another ship approaching them. It had been around a year since Nightmare picked up Error to be a part of his mini “pirate” crew, and nearly two years since he found Cross. To say that they were close was an understatement. At sea it was just them, they couldn’t exactly get away from each other. They had seen shit, and been through shit, and even though Nightmare was sure that they’d eventually get tired of his bullshut and leave, they didn’t.

Some aspects of their personal history often got lost. Nightmare was especially notorious for not talking about himself. And most of their conversations were making up random stories or telling each other ridiculous stories about who knows what. It was inevitable that heavier conversations would come up on occasion.

Much to Cross and Error’s misfortune, Nightmare was feeling particularly somber. Maybe it was the nighttime, the quiet, or maybe he was just in a more grim mood than usual.

“Cross?”

The clicking of knitting needles got quieter, “Yea?”

“Have you lived at sea before? Like as a kid?” Nightmare asked. He was honestly hoping that she had, it would just make his brain happy. He hadn’t gone out to sea until he was nineteen and Error was a maybe. She couldn’t remember much of her life before she met Blue, and subsequently Nightmare and Error. The last thing she remembered were flashes of a terrible storm, and then awakening on a beach where she met Blue. It was entirely possible that she was always at sea, but no one could really be sure. If Cross was always at sea, then it would just make their little group complete.

“Dude I’ve been on the ocean since I was little.”

Nightmare mentally pumped his fist.

“Really? I didn’t think that it would be a good idea to bring kids onto open water.” Error commented, taking a second to stop her knitting and look up at Cross. Cross nodded, leaning into the ship railing.

“It’s not. My dad was a retired navy officer and I think it fucked him up badly or some bullshit. Maybe he was always fucking nuts, who knows. I never really had a home on land until I was like, twenty. Then I met you guys and the rest is history.” Cross laughed softly, although it didn’t reach her face. She spoke of her father on occasion, often by cussing or cursing him out.

“What happened?”

“My family had enough, y’know?” Nightmare and Error could only assume what Cross had meant. “And one day when I was seventeen or so, I dunno, they dropped me off at a town with an old family friend. I wanted to go with them but…my mom made me stay behind.”

“Cross you don’t-” Nightmare started before Cross shushed him. She took a seat on the opposite side of the fence, back to back from Nightmare.

“I know I don’t man. But I think I want to?”

“Jeez.” Nightmare grabbed Kevin and tossed him over the fence. The chicken, who was rightfully startled, screamed and ran off, squawking as he did so. Error gave Nightmare a look, something she did often, and he shrugged in response. He would give Kevin a small piece of bread as an apology. He didn’t give Kevin bread too often, since it did almost nothing in terms of nutrients. His bird friend liked it though, so it was a good apology gift when he pulled shit.

It wasn’t often that the trio worked in sync together. While they worked efficiently during fights and outrunning Dream and his gaggle of self-righteous fools, on their off time they often had some clashes. Nothing relationship ruining, it was just they were always doing different things that sometimes contended with each other. However, that night they all had the same thought process. Nightmare hopped over the fence and plopped right down next to Cross. Error did the same, going on the opposite side of Nightmare.

There was a heavy silence. Cross was the most open out of the trio, but even this felt extremely personal. But Cross also had a point. Sometimes holding things in for too long was harmful, and Nightmare knew that better than anyone.

“Go ahead Cross.” Error prompted, her voice soft. She set her knitting needles down, her knees tucked into her chest.

“Ahah um.” Ah. It wouldn’t be a Cross-centered conversation if she didn’t try to back out of it. However both Nightmare and Error had gotten quite skilled at pushing back at Cross when she made an attempt to change the conversation topic.

“Don’t even think about it, Cross.” Nightmare said before anything else could happen, his voice sharp and to the point.

Cross’s mismatched eyes looked helplessly back at Error, who just stared back, the glare of the sun hiding most of her eyes through her glasses. She nodded at Cross, who took a deep breath.

“It was a suicide mission.” The words held heavy in the air. Error’s eyes widened for a second, but she didn’t react in any other way. Nightmare put his hand on Cross’s forearm. “They, my family, knew that the only way to get dad out of the picture was to go down with him. My mom left me with a family friend. I don’t think she wanted me to die. I don’t know why.” Cross scoffed.

“I worked with that family friend for a few years.” Cross looked down at Nightmare, “Then I met you.” The two shared a moment, shared a smile between each other.

“There was more than that, but y’know.” Nightmare shrugged, turning to Error who’s face said nothing. Although he knew better than that. He figured that he should clear up some of the timing for her, since she wasn’t there until a few months later. Of course, she wasn’t left entirely in the dark. Especially since Cross would often rant and rave about her relationship with Ink and how Dream had wronged their friendship.

Error knew more about Ink’s past and history with Cross than both Cross and Nightmare expected. A few months into being a member on Nightmare’s ship, by complete coincidence, Nightmare and Dream had docked in neighboring towns. Error couldn’t sleep and, apparently, neither could Ink. At first, Error thought a fight would ensue on the dock. But it didn’t. They just sat down next to each other, legs hanging over the ocean water. They just chatted. About nothing in particular. It was similar to what the trio were doing now. Error hadn’t told them about it, and she doubts she ever will. Although Error did learn a few things about Ink.

The most prevalent being that their stories were quite similar. Neither of them really remembered their life before meeting Dream and Nightmare. However Ink did have some memories of her childhood, unlike Error who had lost everything. It was interesting, to hear about someone else’s amnesia. She could only assume that her’s was due to the ship crash that she suspected took place before meeting Blue while Ink’s was due to trauma or something like that. Of course, Ink didn’t tell her everything. Most of their conversation was just a back and forth of ranting about things that annoyed them. However, one of the things Ink talked about, briefly, she wasn’t much for conversation, was that sometimes things would remind her of specific childhood events. Suddenly memories long forgotten would just…appear in her mind.

To Error, that sounded like hell.

They had talked briefly a few times after that meeting. Nightmare would never again dock in a city anywhere near Dream. Even if it meant stretching rations over a day or two longer than they should be. Life on the sea was comfortable, despite it all.

“Wooph, thanks guys.” Cross looked between the two of them, a smile appearing on her face. “I think I needed that.”

“Yeah, of course.” Error said, her body no longer as tense as it was before.

“...I don’t think I’ve told anyone that before.” Cross added, voice going soft. That time, it was Nightmare who responded, arms crossed and resolute in his tone, “Well obviously. Why would you?”

“Nightmare.” Error punched, not with her full strength, him in his arm, and he yelped in surprise. “What he means is: thanks for trusting us Cross. We’re for you.” Nightmare rolled his eyes as he rubbed his arm, but his gaze softened when he made eye contact with Cross once more. He nodded, patting Cross’s forearm. It was awkward, but who would they be if they weren’t?

Cross laughed and a large yawn escaped her as she did so. She leaned back as she did so, a low grunt slowly leaving her. Exhausted. With a grunt, Cross stood up. Her hands reached around to her back and she stretched, and Nightmare could hear her spine pop as she did so. The three of them all struggled with their sleeping schedules, Nightmare the most, and all for different reasons. If one of them was going to head to bed first, it was almost a guarantee that it would be Cross.

“I think I’m gonna…head on up.” She ruffled Nightmare’s hair as she spoke, much to his displeasure. “Fuckin’ spent.”

Error nodded, messing with her gloves, “That makes sense. Sleep on this, and if you wanna talk about it a bit more in the morning, you can. We’ll be here.” She snorted as she finished, as Cross was now leaning on Nightmare with her hand on his head. He was not amused one bit.

After messing up Nightmare’s hair a final time Cross spoke, “Yeah. Thanks. Will you two be…?” Nightmare shrugged, “Well. Good night, if you end up sleeping that is.”

“‘Night Cross.” Nightmare waved as Cross disappeared behind the corner and into their quarters. The ship was small and getting around it was easy enough, although it had little room for their sleeping quarters. The three of them had to sleep in the same general area, they really had no other choice. Error and Cross adjusted to it fine, for one reason or another, but Nightmare? Nightmare struggled. With his, well, nightmares. Ironic, huh?

So to avoid having that uncomfortable conversation, Nightmare just had the most fucked up sleep schedule known to man. It was worth it. Probably. Since it was just the three of them, they had to swap out who would do night shifts. It was often Nightmare who offered, so that he could stay up. He didn’t sleep very much anyway, the least he could do was be productive at night. That wasn’t every night though, as Error and Cross also took their fair share of night shifts. Nightmare didn’t sleep much at night when they did though, often plagued with terrors. So he compromised with his body. He often napped in short periods, not long enough to go into REM sleep and dream, but long enough that his brain could rest. It really sucked honestly, but it worked.

“You gonna head up soon too?” He asked, turning his head towards Error who had picked up her knitting needles and continued her project. His legs were crossed and he leaned into his hand. Both he and Error looked like shrimps, both of their posture being shitty as hell.

“Are you?”

“I didn’t plan to.”

“Do you mind if I stay up with you?”

Nightmare blinked a few times, “Nah, not at all.”

There was a small smile on Error’s face, “Cool.”

Silence covered them like a soft blanket. Nightmare and Error didn’t hang out one on one that often, but when they did it was nice. She was just…chill. There wasn’t really a need to talk, although they totally could. He considered it, briefly, before seeing how enthralled Error was in her work. His tired eyes drifted up into the sky, the stars dancing in his vision. Error knew a lot about the stars and how to navigate with them, although from where he couldn’t say. His mouth opened to speak, to start some kind of conversation but she beat him to it.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Before he could respond, she added on, “You can say no, by the way. It might be kinda sensitive.” Error watched his face, at his dark blue eyes that looked almost purple in some lights. He squinted at her.

“Shoot.”

“Why did you leave the navy?”

“Oh. Yeah no, that’s not a hard question.” Nightmare paused as the tapping of bird feet on the deck slowly got louder. With a scream, Kevin lept into Nightmare’s arms, getting comfortable in his lap. “Hey buddy. Forgiven me already? Haha. Anyways, I deserted for a few reasons, um. The main one being I didn’t want to be part of the navy y’know? It was never a goal of mine to…fight, I guess? Being a military personnel sounds like hell. And when I did get drafted, I hated how both Dream and I were being treated. We both did.

“Dream was always more into it than I was. But I won’t get into his whole…everything.” There was a lot there. And honestly? He didn’t really want to think about the past, and his whole relationship with Dream. It was like putting salt in an open wound. On many occasions, he wondered if Dream thought about him the way he thought about Dream. There was this sour fondness that came up whenever he thought about their time together. And every time the wound he thought he had sewn up opened wide up for all to see.

Error nodded, knowing better than to push Nightmare about Dream. He looked over at her, and she just looked back at him. He did leave his reasoning unfinished.

“And eventually…I just kinda left. Went AWOL. I tried to convince Dream to come with me, but uh,” He forced a laugh into his voice, but his face was still tugged back into a sneer, “He already decided how he felt about me.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“Why what?”

“Why he…y’know,” Error gestured with her hands.

Luckily, Nightmare knew what she meant.

“Not really. If I had to guess, I’d say that he saw how the military was running and thought that he could do a better job. He was always like that. Observing things and then making them better. When I went AWOL, I guess he lobbed me in with pirates and stuff? I couldn’t tell you why he did that.”

There, of course, was more to it than that. But Nightmare had reached his “talking about Dream” limit for the day, and he suspected Error could tell.

Nightmare stroked Kevin’s neck, “Dream’s mind is fucking enigma.”

The knitting needles and project were slowly being put away. “It really is, isn’t it?” She turned to look him in the eye, “Are you alright?”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow at her, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We just had a deep conversation, of course I’m going to check in on you.”

God, Error was so cool like that. Nightmare scoffed slightly, but smiled at the sentiment. “Error, dude, I’m fine. Promise.”

“If you insist.” Error stood up, gathering up her knitting supplies in her hands. “I’m going to head off to bed. Or, try at least. You coming?”

“In a bit.”

With a nod, Error began to head back into the sleeping quarters. Nightmare had totally lied about heading back to bed, although he wondered if Error picked up on it. Not with Cross and Error being in the same room. He had filled in his quota of talking to his friends about important shit for the month, and he was not going to explain his horrendous nightmares. His nightmares varied in content and who was present. Very rarely were they just unsettling, making him wake up in a cold sweat. More often than not, he’d wake up in tears and gasping for air. And sometimes, on the worst nights, he would wake up screaming. That was the thing that he wanted to avoid at all costs.

However, there appeared to be a change in plans. Before Error could get far, Cross came barrelling from the door to the quarters. Nightmare could see the startled look on her face and stood up, keeping Kevin in his arms. She slid to a halt, around an arms length away from Nightmare, and Error pressed herself up against the nearby wall to avoid being touched.

“Guys,” Cross heaved, not bothering to take a second to catch her breath. Sweat dripped from her forehead. Her eyes glanced wearily from Nightmare to Error, clearly shaken up. “It’s Dream, his ship, port side.”

“God fuckin’ damnit.” Nightmare seethed, setting Kevin down on a nearby barrel. The chicken didn’t even stir in his sleep. “Let’s go. I need to see how far he is. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to avoid him.”

The Trio of Idiots all made a fast dash to the front of the ship. Kevin and Error’s knitting supplies were left behind. Sometimes Nightmare cursed the messy nature of all of them, just leaving shit around with no reasoning behind it. Things often got lost or misplaced and sometimes it pissed him off, especially when he went to find something and it ended up falling right off of the ship. However, he had to thank both his, Error’s, and Cross’s lack of organization, as his spyglass was sitting precariously on top of some boxes. He grabbed as he ran up the bow, getting as far up it as he could. Cross and Error soon joined him, the cold sea wind blowing in all of their faces. Nightmare raised the spyglass up to his left eye and glanced around at the port side.

The horizon between the endless blue ocean and star-covered sky is cut by a massive ship. Nightmare didn’t even need the skyglass to recognize it.

Radiance.

That stupid ship and its stupid name and its stupid captain!

“Is it him?”

“Oh it’s fucking him alright.” Nightmare said, grinding his teeth as he did so. He focused on the ship. It was, thank god, not coming straight for them. He squinted at the bow. There was someone on it, talking to Dream. He could recognize Dream from a mile away, especially with his bright golden hair. But there was someone next to him. Someone he didn’t recognize. He stepped closer to the edge, leaning over to get a better look. Cross put her hand on his shoulder, to both stabilize him as well as getting into the position to catch him if he slipped. The last thing they needed was any of them falling into the water while Dream was around.

It was dark, and without memories to fill in the gaps, Nightmare couldn’t get a good grasp as to what exactly he looked like. There was some light illuminating from the Radiance, but not enough. Damnit! It also didn’t help that the stranger had pressed themself up against Dream either.

“What is it?” Error asked, “What do you see?”

“Some, uh, guy.”

“A guy?”

Nightmare adjusted the focus on the spyglass. He struggled to separate the stranger from Dream, but he did his best. “Yeah…wearing a blue something? A scarf maybe? They’ve got what I think is short brown hair and, uh, yeah that's about it.”

There wasn’t much to his description, but once he stepped back, he saw the startled expression on Error’s face. Wordlessly, he handed Error the spyglass so she could get a look. Cross shifted on her feet awkwardly, unsure if she should stabilize Error like she did with Nightmare or not. She glanced towards Nightmare who shook his head. Error was much more careful with her feet placement, and grounded herself securely.

Error hesitated. She didn’t raise the spyglass to her glasses for a moment too long. She swallowed hard, and she prayed to whatever deity that existed that Nightmare was wrong. That it was somewhere else, anyone else. She focused the spyglass and focused on where Dream and the other person were. Despite the multiple layers of glass between her eye and what she was seeing, it was clear enough who was on The Radiance. Error’s heart began to race, apprehension and adrenaline rushing through her. She staggered backwards, bumping into Nightmare, who shifted to her right.

“What’s the matter? Do you know him?”

A scoff left Error’s mouth, and she took her glasses off of her face and wiped them down with her skirt. “Do I know him? Yeah, I fucking know him.” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Taking any grievances on Nightmare and Cross wasn’t a good idea. “It’s Blue.”

“WHAT?!” Cross stands there mouth agape.

“What is he doing with Dream of all people??”

“Who the hell knows!” Error rubbed her temples, “It’s…whatever. Right now we need to make sure we avoid his line of sight.”

The other two nodded, and Cross left to begin unveiling the sails, setting them up to catch as much wind as possible. Error’s job was to make sure cannons were loaded and working properly. While once might think that Cross should have that heavy lifting job, it was often much harder to work the sails. It’s also what Cross did on her dad’s ship, so hey, if it isn't broken don’t fix it. And often Nightmare took his position as captain (no one calls him captain) and steered the ship, assisting Cross and Error when necessary. When Error finished, she often assisted Nightmare or Cross in whatever they needed, and vice versa.

Before Error could get to work, Nightmare grabbed her by her sleeve. Despite there being no actual contact, she still jumped. He immediately pulled his hands away.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine. What’s up? We need to keep moving.”

“I know.” Nightmare crossed his arms. “Just…We care about you, y’know. If you need anything, I’m here.”

Error pushes her glasses up, the glare from the moon concealing her expression. With some hesitation, she grabs Nightmare’s hand with her gloved one. Wordlessly, she squeezes it, rubbing the back of his hand. A silent thank you.

She lets go of his hand before adjusting her glasses a final time, “Now, let’s beat some not-pirate ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

18 notes · View notes

amarriageoftrueminds · 1 year ago

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i don't get how some ppl have such short memories for the creative decisions marvel makes

people saying that james gunn(??) should write Bucky bc of rocket's arc in gotg3... did they forget that we already know what gunn's thoughts on Bucky and his autonomy are? none of them were remotely good, and it also involved rocket and his ableist running joke of wanting to dismember amputees replacement limbs off. marvel would rather humanize a raccoon than a human who was tortured and enslaved by nazis.

or how people will rightfully criticize all the available info feige puts out re: Thunderbolts for calling Bucky a villain... but then turn around and preeptively praise that he might have "long" hair (the WS cut) so out wondering why marvel keeps putting Bucky in winter soldier style designs whenever they villainize him again. it happens in both comics and mcu consistently. obviously those in charge want to keep him as the WS villain role and not progress his character and don't care why people liked the WS story (the development it set up)

or how some complain that Sam was unkind and victimblamey towards Bucky in tfatws, I feel like those got too into fanon!Sam that made him a therapist bc of his veteran work, but Sam re: Bucky started out wanting him to be put down like a dog, and consistently complained about Steve treating Bucky with kindness and empathy. fatws Sam wasn't OOC, he was always a military man whose empathy never extended towards the POW captured by Nazis and always regarded him as a potential threat that he has to tolerate, that was in character. the actual fault is the mcu not exploring the dynamic a super patriotic US military man not extending empathy towards a a ww2 vet for fought nazis only for said nazis to be hired by the US a lá Project Paperclip, but LBR the disney-owned and USDoD-funded marvel studios is not financially incentivized to delve into those topics in any way that doesn't ultimately end with "woo, Captain Amurrica, red white and blue stars and stripes, stand for the flag wooo! ignore anything close to critical in this project and embrace patriotic centrism!"

I already hate how long the last one got but another thing:

the way that Steve's mother and his Irish heritage (during the early 1900s which makes it more significant in that point in history) are given to shine, we don't even know her maiden name, even the story of Steve's father and how it's supposed to parallel Steve going to fight European fascism in both world wars, none of that gets any attention bc marvel as a franchise cares more abt the generic patriotism to dive into the characters

There's never enough talk about how post-CATWS mcu demoted Bucky from titular character and arguable secondary protagonist as a foil and parallel for Steve, be his alternate supersoldier/superhero journey based on who the world chose to lionized and who to exploit in the seedy underbelly and shady deals w nazis, but post-CATWS mcu (specifically CACW) robbed Steve of the chance to have Steve's (not Cap's, Steve's) character be explored.

Becayse why tf does that terrorizing billionaire have more screentime on what is (nominally) a sequel to Steve and Bucky's movie? We learn more about tony's annoying ass billionaire parents in a desperate attempt for pity than we do about either Bucky or Steve's families… the most we get is a name drop of Steve and Bucky reunion scenes that were clearly cut short if you compare them to the trailers of the movie.

the russos are branded as hacks (and maybe this is me still being bitter as an OG cacw-hater) but after they revealed in interviews that they kept re-editing and re-shooting civil war until half of test audiences sided with tony, that should've been where they were forever banned from filmmaking. that's not making a movie, that's making a product to sell action figures (unfortunately true for most of marvel if we're honest)

"Captain America: the Winter Soldier" nay have listed them by their titles, but that movie is pretty much the only time we see Bucky and Steve as characters most of the time, it's literally the only own with flashbacks to their relationship before the war, before "Captain America" even existed, to where it was just Bucky and Steve.

the vast majority of the marvel franchise treats them as only "Cap" and "Winter Soldier" their actual characters get lost by "creatives" who only have a superficial understanding of them as just two types of action figures to collect, they don't know Steve or Bucky, so we get sequels constantly about "Bucky's a killer robot who must be browbeat at every turn" and "Steve's most important thing in his life is the cap shield and legacy" as if their stories weren't centered around how Bucky was NOT the killer robot and in fact Steve's damn-near guardian angel character before the war and even during (literally killing nazis before they could touch Steve) and as if Steve didn't throw away the shield and Captain America title in each of his movies in favor of what's actually important to him: his oldest protector and the one he wants to protect in return, Bucky.

marvel doesn't even understand Bucky and Steve, they treat them as WS & CA, even though their core canon never showed them caring about the "legacy" and patriotism, it was always incidental at best or an obstacle that gets in the way. the most patriotism was in catfa, but it was always a mantle forced into Steve and his hero team (Howling Commandos) were purposefully diverse and non-American majority recommended by Bucky when Steve joined Bucky in the war to fight nazis. But now marvel wants to retcon in this stuff with lines like Bucky calling Hydra "my people" instead of his oppressors and torturers like they actually were, and storylines about how the patriotic legacy and shield are Steve's whole identity instead of Bucky speaking up and pointing out that none of the other characters actually knew Steve, they only knew "Cap" and "Mr. America" and that Steve literally abandoned the shield as his last public choice with it, so none of it even is his legacy at all.

the sheer gall of (in defense of infinitywar/endgame's BS) people claimed that Bucky would finally get focus again in tfatws, but in the end, only catws gave us flashback scenes of Bucky (and Steve!) before the war before the superhero stuff, meanwhile the d+ show didn't even acknowledge that Bucky's direct family's kids are 1000% alive (he had a big family!) and heard of the real uncle Bucky, and instead the show claimed that Bucky is closest to HYDRA… the ones who tortured him into a mindslave… and he said it to a government mandated therapist (institutionalization by the state) who works for the same government who had the hydra-nazis on payroll and funded Bucky's torture…

no one at marvel even gave a thought about Bucky's family or the direct fault the gov has in his abuse.. no one on screen points out that the state that's institutionalizing him as a felon literally owes him reparations. they could've done a storyline relating to other IRL groups and family descendants who are owed reparations for the USA's domestic and international crimes and how Bucky is a similar case, but instead it's about how Bucky has no family that he was violently imprisoned from and how he's the one at fault and how the government mandated oversight says Bucky should be apologizing for what they funded

Bucky has so many blatant similarities with victims and descendants of IRL state human rights abuses that those states refuse to recognize, but marvel isn't willing to frame in a way that makes the US look bad because they're too busy being patriotic and "respecting the shield" and flag symbols and "legacy" and pretending like the shield is so so so important to Bucky or Steve and retcon out the parts where the shield and the captain america stuff was discarded easily at the emotional climax of each of the first 3 movies in favor of protecting what actually mattered more: each other….

but patriotism tho, the new Cap & WS who replaced Bucky & Steve are too patriotic to point out that the government literally owes their (cuz both ssr/shield & hydra were agencies by them) their two most famous supersoldier experimental test subjects a lot of money and apologies for a long laundry list of reasons

#long post #antisambucky #tfatws critical #bucky barnes #bucky meta #mcu meta #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #👌👍☝👏#good for you getting all that off ur chest 😅#nonny I want to answer you but I've had death threats for noticing things wrong w/ tfatws in the past #*totally hinged behaviour*#so I'm just gunna leave this as-is #if you wanna read my take come off anon 👀#antitfatws

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Note

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear 📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go.

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

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maddrmatt · 3 years ago

Text

A Beautiful Future: A Premonition or a Punishment?

New to this fanfic? Click here to properly begin!

Greetings, readers and fellow SoKai fans!

Time for a certain Princess of Heart to take the spotlight in this story!

Fair bit of warning though, I sort of used this chapter to showcase a few headcanons and speculations regarding the future of the series.

Also, there’s a little challenge within this chapter that you can take on if you wish.

Enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: Writings of a Princess

Land of Departure

Dear Sora,

I know it’s been a while since I last wrote to you. I haven’t really had anything really important to tell you since I came here.

Now something incredible has just happened and I had to tell you first before anyone else. But before that, here’s a few updates on what’s been happening on this side of reality.

I’m still training hard. No offense to Merlin, but I think I’m getting way better with my Keyblade training under Master Aqua than him.

My days here at the Land of Departure are filled with learning various fighting techniques or improving my magic skills. And to test them, I often spar with Aqua, Terra or Ven. One day, I might even get a perfect score against one of them in our matches.

All of three of them and Chirithy have been very good to me. They’ve really made me feel like part of their family.

But as great as it’s been with them, they’re no true replacement for everyone back home. I miss everyone: Mom, Dad, Selphie, Wakka, Tidus, Riku, and you. Especially you.

Sorry, Sora. It’s just so hard every day knowing that you’re trapped in that fictional world. I really wish I could’ve gone there with Riku to save you. But after being out of action for a year and the fact that I couldn’t even land a single blow on that memory of Xehanort, I knew it was the better choice to stay behind and train even if I didn’t like it.

I really hope Riku finds you soon. We’re all so worried about both of you. Since nobody really knows anything about this Quadratum place, we’ve all thought Riku was a little hasty in just taking off there alone.

We still haven’t heard anything from Mickey yet either. Hopefully, he’ll come back soon from Scala Ad Caelum, and he’ll have found something we can use to help you and Riku. Until that happens, all the rest of us can do is wait.

Anyway, time to tell you the real reason for this latest letter, Sora. And you are not going to believe what it is. I can hardly believe it myself.

Last night, I had a dream. It was actually the first dream I’ve had since I came to the Land of Departure.

Not that I’ve minded not having dreams just in case they ended up being recreations of my worst memories. I’ve already watched you vanish twice. I don’t think I could bear to watch it happen again in my dreams.

But the dream I had was nothing like that at all. It was of a wedding, Sora. Our wedding.

It was an amazing sight. It was in this gigantic chapel that looked like it was in Radiant Garden, and it was filled with all your friends from around the worlds.

Many of our fellow Guardians of Light and closest friends made up our wedding party. It was hardly a surprise to see Selphie as my maid of honor or Riku as your best man.

You looked so handsome in the suit you were wearing. And judging from the stunned look on your face when you saw me coming down the aisle, I must’ve looked pretty beautiful to you.

It was truly incredible, Sora. It felt so real and so wonderful. I wished it never ended.

But, unfortunately, as it is with dreams, we all have to wake up eventually. And when I did, the happiness I felt ended up giving way to other emotions as I reflected on the dream.

First of all, I felt a little confused. As good as that dream was, I couldn’t help but wonder why I had it at all. I mean, wouldn’t you find a little strange to have a dream about a wedding especially since we haven’t even had our first kiss yet? It’s kind of rushing things a little.

But don’t get me wrong, Sora. I know, deep down in my heart, how we truly feel about each other. I wouldn’t have shared that paopu fruit with you otherwise. And when the time is right for it, the idea of getting married to you is something I will embrace wholeheartedly.

So, I thought more about the dream and believe it or not, I started to think that it was not merely just a dream. I wonder if what I saw was our future. It definitely did feel like that since there were so many unfamiliar parts in it.

For example, I had no idea there was a tradition in Radiant Garden weddings for the bride and groom to crown each other with symbolic flowers. Then again, I could have known that if the knowledge came from a memory from when I lived there. Maybe I attended a wedding there when I was young.

But what really stood out to me and made me believe that this could be our future was the many unfamiliar guests. I knew that because I’ve been studying the details of your last two journeys from Jiminy’s Journal and the Gummi Phone. And even though the Journal of your first journey was erased (Naminè’s still really sorry about that), I still remember everything about it from being in your heart through it all.

So, I was able to recognize who you had met and who were strangers. They were far too numerous to mention. But here are some examples that really stood out to me.

A tall woman with long black hair wearing a tan colored dress and a beautiful turquoise necklace with a raccoon, a dog and I think I saw a hummingbird flittering around her.

A pair of robots, one yellow and box-shaped, the other white and cylindrical, who were holding hands.

A couple that consisted of a redhaired woman and blonde-haired man who appeared to have some kind of hairless rodent on his shoulder.

A teenage boy and girl along with a younger boy and a company of animals such as a bear with gray fur, a panther, an elephant with a tuft of brown hair and a quartet of vultures.

A large family that appeared to be a mix of humans and skeletons along with a very colorful winged dog and a giant winged cat.

A boy with red hair (whose head looked triangular) along with another boy with green hair and a bunch of other teenagers as well as some kind of strange teal animal that looked like a cross between a duck and a beaver and a man with brown hair, poor posture and wearing a lab coat (who wears that to a wedding?).

A princess dressed in a beautiful green gown accompanied by a prince in a green suit with a blonde woman dressed in pink, a short old woman dressed in white and wearing sunglasses and a snake around her shoulders as well as an alligator who was carrying a trumpet.

A very unusual group consisting of two men and a woman with blue skin and pointy ears along with a dog-sized dragon, a centaur, and a winged lionlike creature with horns and a scorpion’s tail.

A girl with bushy brown hair among what appeared to be a family of giant frogs.

A woman dressed like she was some kind of islander with a burly man with numerous tattoos (I think I saw one of them move) over his body along with a pig and a chicken that didn’t look very smart.

A family who seemed to be some kind of royalty consisting of a princess in a simple green dress with long curly red hair along with three identical boys with the same kind of hair, their big, strong father with a peg leg and their very elegant mother.

A boy and a girl who looked like they were twin siblings who were accompanied by a pair of old men who looked like twins as well.

A redhaired boy in the company of a group of what looked like various human-sized bugs.

There were so many more, but I think I’ll stop here. With the large number of guests at this wedding, I could go on listing them for a long time. But it does seem there’s a lot more friends for you in the future.

Unfortunately, while I was mulling over the dream further, a horrible thought came to me. I started to wonder if the dream, as beautiful as it was, wasn’t meant to bring me happiness at all because it was actually showing the future that we could have had but now would never have. And the true reason of it was to punish me for my failures in the fight against Xehanort.

I know you wouldn’t like to hear this, Sora. But there are still days where I can’t help but feel responsible for your disappearance and think that if I had made some different choices, you’d still be here.

I know it was my choice to fight alongside you because I wanted to keep you safe the same way you’ve always done for me. But looking back, I now see it was foolish to assume that my training alongside Axel would turn me into a Keyblade wielder on yours or Riku’s level. And it was probably an even worse idea for a wielder with very little actual battle experience to go from basic training to a high stakes battle with nothing in between.

We may have been desperate to stop Xehanort before he went after the New Seven Hearts especially since he had already assembled all his darknesses. But we probably could’ve and should’ve explored some other options instead of going to fight the Organization right away after you woke Ven.

Since Ienzo told us that they had a replica body ready before we even left for the Keyblade Graveyard, we could’ve gotten Roxas or maybe even Xion out of your heart before the fight. In Axel’s words, they were the old hands when it came to Keyblades.

We also could have made a bigger effort to find and save Terra first even if our chances were pretty low. That would not only have gotten us a more experienced wielder, but it would’ve also lowered Xehanort’s ranks by one.

Maybe if we had done things that way, we would’ve had more experienced Keyblade wielders to fill out the Seven Guardians of Light. And even if it would be disappointing to be put in the reserves, it would’ve been worth it if it led to you being safe.

So, those are the reasons I believed that dream was a punishment. But you’ll be glad to know, Sora, that I only entertained those beliefs briefly.

After thinking it over some more, I decided that it didn’t matter what that dream’s purpose was. Comfort or punishment, I’m going to actually use it to serve my own purposes instead.

I’m going to let it remind me of what my ultimate goal is and drive me to be the best Keyblade wielder I can be. One that’s going to make the forces of darkness think twice before causing trouble and one that you and Riku will be proud to have fighting alongside you. And hopefully, that will lead us to a future like the one in the dream or at least one that’s pretty close.

In fact, after seeing that dream, I think I may end up actually proposing a couple of ideas to Aqua and Master Yen Sid. I’ve been thinking about them a lot and maybe now is the time to try to put them into action.

Since I need to get some real battle experience to become a stronger Keyblade wielder, I’d like to go on a journey throughout the worlds to gain some. Hopefully, Aqua will think it’s a good idea. And even though there’s been little sign of the Heartless and Nobodies since Xehanort’s defeat, there is one thing I really wish to do.

I’d like to try to find and identify the remaining three of the New Seven Hearts. After all, who’d better to find them than someone who’s part of the same group? And if we knew who they were and what their home worlds were, we’d be in a better position to protect them if someone tried what Maleficent and Xehanort did.

Who knows? Maybe all those unfamiliar faces at the wedding were not only friends you’ll make on future adventures, but ones I’ll make on my own adventures. Maybe even the remaining New Seven Hearts were among them.

I also have an idea that may be able to help in the quest to bring you home. If Fairy Godmother could bring me back to the Final World, I could talk to that girl from Quadratum again. She may not be able to remember certain things. But she might be able to tell us something about that world that could help.

Naminè might even be able to help with this plan. Even if you only met that girl briefly, that may be enough for her to be considered connected to you and therefore, Naminè’s memory powers can work on her.

Hopefully, the Masters will think that these are good plans. I really want to do any part I can to not only help bring you and Riku home, but also to protect the worlds as both a Keyblade wielder and a Princess of Heart. After all, with you two gone, someone’s got to pick up the slack.

Well, I think that’s enough for now. It’s nearly time for breakfast and then it’s training until lunch. But before I go, there’s just one final thing I’d like to say.

Whether that beautiful dream shows a wonderful future that is meant to be or not, it doesn’t matter. Because the only kind of future I’ll ever wish for is one in which we’re safe, we’re happy, and we’re together. That’s all I really need.

See you soon,

Kairi

________________________________________________________________

Much later, the training hall in the Land of Departure was filled with the sounds of clashing Keyblades and various shouts of magical invocation. While those sounds were nothing uncommon in that location, there was an unusual intensity that day.

As Aqua, Ven and Chirithy watched, a heated sparring match was taking place between Kairi and Terra. But much to their surprise, the more experienced Keyblade wielder was actually struggling as the young rookie was keeping him mostly on the defensive.

“Wow! Kairi’s on fire today!” exclaimed Ven.

“She is, indeed,” concurred Chirithy.

“Well, she has improved a lot in her skills since she came here. But you two are right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this driven before,” said Aqua.

“You’ve got that right, Aqua. If she lands one more hit on Terra, this’ll be the first time she’s won by a perfect score,” said Ven.

As the match went on, Terra blocked blow after blow from Kairi. Then, strangely, she ceased her attack.

Terra saw his opportunity and charged toward her with a downward slash. The Princess dodged to the right narrowly avoiding the hit.

“Light!” she cried out as she fired a small but powerful Light spell at Terra’s side. He grunted as the magic struck him and knocked him off his feet.

“Point to Kairi,” declared Aqua.

“That’s three to nothing! Kairi wins!” exclaimed Ven as Chirithy clapped its paws together.

“Well done, Kairi,” said Aqua.

“Thank you, Master Aqua,” Kairi said as she walked over to Terra and helped him up.

After exchanging bows with each other, the Princess of Heart said, “I hope that didn’t hurt you too badly, Terra.”

Terra chuckled. “Not at all. It helps that you’ve learned how to restrain your magic during training. But I’ve got to say, Kairi that I am impressed. That’s the first time since you’ve come here that I’ve been unable to land a single hit on you.”

“You’ve certainly come a long way, Kairi. Today, you showed some truly exceptional skill and strength. You should be very proud of yourself,” said Aqua as she, Ven and Chirithy approached.

“Well, I’ve had a good teacher and some great sparring partners. But I think it really helped that when I woke up today, I just felt a little extra drive,” said Kairi.

“Yes. We noticed,” said Aqua.

“Why is that exactly?” asked Chirithy.

A certain smile came to Kairi’s face which caused her four friends to exchange knowing looks. They had spent plenty of time with her by now to know what exactly brought out that special smile of hers: thoughts of a certain someone close to her heart.

“I had the most amazing dream.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes from the Mad Doctor:

I thought the best way for Kairi’s spotlight chapter would be to do in the style of one of her letters to Sora. I’ve used it before as readers of my big fic Kairi’s Epic Journey would know.

So, in case it wasn’t obvious, the challenge I mentioned at the start is that list of unknown guests. It was quite a challenge to write all those characters by description alone. I hope you all will take a shot at identifying them. Some are pretty obvious, but some may be a little more difficult.

I hope I did a good job in trying not to make this chapter’s narrative too similar to the previous chapters. I actually tried having Kairi leap to the punishment notion before the premonition notion. But unfortunately, the flow didn’t work right.

Fortunately, the views on the punishment notion are a little different. Sora has absolutely no regrets for what he did and believes that he’s being unfairly punished for breaking rules he had no idea existed. Kairi, however, believes her punishment is deserved since she blames herself for what happened to Sora. Fortunately, both are able to use that dream to keep on fighting.

I hope you all aren’t put off that this is more like a series of one-shots centered around a certain plot device (the wedding dream) instead of a congruent storyline. That was what this project ended up being.

I give my thanks to whoever reads this chapter.

I also give my special thanks to @fandomchanger, @flynn-science, and @ladylucky for their likes on the previous chapters as well as @sokaiweek, @phoenix-downer, and @the-secret-place for reblogging the previous chapter.

Comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Stay tuned for what comes next because it’s going to be a real feel-good chapter!

________________________________________________________________

Onto the next chapter!

#kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2021 #kairi #aqua #ventus #chirithy #terra #maddrmatt

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alfred-braginsky · 4 years ago

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RusAme Secret Santa 2020

My secret santa this year is @grapeautumn !!! I hope you like it, Merry Belated Christmas!

Gift requested: Human AU Alfred accidentally summons a demon while making Christmas cookies. The problem comes when Alfred just vehemently doesn't believe in demons and just figures some random guy showed up at his house. The demon, Ivan, starts out fairly miffed but warms up to Alfred (Comedy/fluff, any rating)

Shit, shit , shit, shit!

Alfred simply cannot believe he forgot to make the Christmas cookies for the office potluck. Well, he could believe it. It was common knowledge that he was known to have one or two things slip from his mind. There was no way he could go out now at this point in the night. The roads were icy, and it was too snowy for anyone to see in this weather even with their brights on. All he had to make cookies was lingering ingredients in the cabinets. There wasn’t even a recipe he could follow, everything online looked like either too much work or too basic.

He couldn’t exactly serve up ‘banging your head against the wall’ at the party, so what could he do? A sense of clarity washed over him. He would call his friend Francis! After all, his pastries always seemed to kick ass at any event, formal or just your average potluck. Pulling out his phone he dials his number.

No answer.

Things seemed bleak. There was no hope. Nothing he could do. He didn’t have an inkling on the seemingly complicated mysteries to baking cookies. Another thought came to him in his time of need. There is no other choice. He was going to have to call Arthur.

Alfred shuddered at the thought of having to call his cousin for baking advice. The first reason being is that he would never hear the end of it from Arthur. He would have that smug smirk on his face as he brings it up every other Christmas with the family in that condescending tone Alfred hates so much.

The second reason being that any recipe he would get from him would probably end up as piles of ash. Arthur isn’t exactly known for his baking. Alfred hoped his improvisation skills would save him as long he had the building blocks for a cookie.

Swallowing his pride didn’t seem so hard when he was this desperate. As the phone range he immediately regretted his decision. Too late to hang up now, Arthur would know he called.

“Hm, hello?” the line stopped ringing as Arthur’s sleepy voice answered.

“…”

Alfred hoped if he didn’t say anything maybe it will just be just be ignored and Alfred can go back to panicking in peace.

“Hello? Alfred? This better not be another prank call; I won’t fall for it twice! I’m hangin---”

“No! Wait…I’m sorry. This isn’t a prank, I swear.”

“What time is it there? Did something happen? Do I need come over there earlier than expected?”

“What? No! I need your help with something, and it doesn’t require you to come over.”

Arthur was silent for a moment out of curiosity.

“What do you want?” with cautious hesitation.

------

Alfred had explained everything. Arthur was as smug as expected. Luckily for Alfred, he didn’t need to write anything down. Arthur stored some of the books he likes to read at his place for when he comes over for the holidays. An unpublished cookbook that Arthur had written himself was among the box of books.

Alfred went to the hallways closet and quickly located the box. Rifling through the book he was intrigued with a mix of disgust at how many cheesy romance novels were in the box. They all looked the same. His eyes widen as he spotted a book that looked different from all. The book was black and faded. It didn’t seem like Arthur’s style, but it was the only one that was different. Well, maybe if he looked more…

Nah!

There was no time for that. Alfred flipped through the book and was positive there had to be something in there. If it turned out to be Arthur’s diary, that was even better! Maybe he could find some dirt on him.

Speaking of dirt, it seems like that was the first ingredient for the cookies. Weird? But Alfred wasn’t going to question it.

He grabbed his coat and tried to get as much dirt as he could from the frozen ground. He collected all the dirt required in a bowl. Next step was flesh? Okay…this was going a bit off the track of cookies, but if this is what the recipe asked for who was he to question it?

He grabbed chicken nuggets from the freeze and heated them up in the microwave. Once heated up he put them in the dirt and began to mix the ingredients.

Alright, what did he need to do next? His eyes scanned the very old pages and his eyes widen at what the recipe asked for next.

“What the hell, cut a lock of my own hair?!” he exclaimed.

That had to be some kind of health code violation. Alfred is certain that the recipe will call for him to take it out later. The recipe required a few more ingredients that he was able to find nearby. After it was all mixed together, he rolled the nasty concoction out and began using Christmas cookie cutters to make them into holiday themed shapes. He sprinkled them with peppermint for a pop of color.

The final step was to leave them under the light of the full moon. Alfred looked out the window to see the entire moon above him. What luck! With a yawn he set them down with the window open for the full effect of the full moon’s rays. Baking took a lot of work and he deserved to rest. After taking a quick shower, he got into some comfy pajamas, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Alfred woke up to the sound of his alarm blaring in his ear. Letting out a groan he put his phone on snooze and shut his eyes hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. His eyes snapped open as he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs. He jumped out bed and immediately dug through his closet and pulled out a wooden baseball bat.

With caution he tipped toed out of his bedroom and around the corner where the banging and clashing was coming from. Swallowing hard, he gripped the bat tightly, ready to swing at whatever was in his kitchen. What made him think that leaving the window open at night was a good idea?!

Maybe it was a hungry raccoon. Maybe a party girl who went into the wrong house. Or maybe---

A tall man dressed in all black EATING HIS COOKIES!

“What the hell are you doing? Do you know how long it took me to make those!” Alfred shouted as he lowered the bat, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. His eyes held a pang of defeat. He was going to get scolded by his boss for not bringing anything to potluck again. His boss already didn’t like him. God, he was the fucking worst. At least bringing these cookies would have gotten him off his back today. Well, that is if this stranger hadn’t eaten them!

“Watch your tongue mortal.” A sweet yet threatening voice came from the intruder.

“What? Shut up! You’re the one who broke into my house and ate my Christmas cookies!” Alfred was so frustrated with this entire situation. The day started out so poorly he doesn’t know how it could possibly get any worse.

“You made me an offering. I was supposed to eat the offering.” The man had calmly explained. His previous demeanor shaken when the human who summoned him spoke to him in that way. No mortal has spoken to him like that, but he was unable to harm the entity who summoned him so there was nothing he could do about it.

“What offering? Dude, you literally broke into my house and ate the cookies that took me all night to make!”

“I am a demon from the 5th realm of Hell. I would not be in the house of someone like you if I was not called upon.” For the most part, people who summoned knew what they were doing. This man seemed clueless.

“A demon, huh? Where are your wings? Got any horns? You look like someone dug you out of the clearance section at Hot Topic.”

This references completely flew over Ivan’s head. This is taking into account that he could speak any mortal language, but he could not understand what it is the other man was going on about.

“I am in my most simple form to survive in this realm. You added unnecessary things to the offering, I could not come in my true form.”

“So ya can’t even prove it then?” Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.

There was a moment of silence. Ivan was trapped in this realm with no powers, and no one to call upon. He hung his head in defeat.

“No. I cannot.”

Alfred sighed. Well, there was nothing he could do at this point.

“Alright, you’re gonna come to the grocery store with me and replace the ones you ate. Wait there, I’m gonna get dressed.” Alfred held a calm tone as he noticed things becoming less hectic. He nodded before leaving the kitchen.

Quickly getting dressed and packing his work stuff into his side bag, Alfred comes back to see the man standing in the exact same spot. This man has not moved an inch.

“Are…you alright?” he asks hesitantly, looking at him up and down. His eyes landed on the strange man’s face. Their eyes locked. He had purple eyes. How strange.

Alfred’s face flushes red as he realizes he was staring at him.

“Yes, I am fine. I was told to wait. You on the other hand look feverish? You are quite red.” His tone did not waver.

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine. Let’s just get going, don’t think I forgot about you eating my cookies.”

“I have already explained myself, that was an offering!” The demon becoming increasingly frustrated with the other man. Ivan was at a complete loss as to how this man did not know he had summoned him.

Alfred rolled his eyes and exited his apartment with the other man in tow. They got to his car and Alfred proceeded to get in. The demon looked confused.

“What are you standing around for, get in!”

The man had a look of embarrassment.

“I do not know how.”

Alfred was inclined to believe him, although it was something so unbelievable. However, his tone seemed too meek to say otherwise. He gets out of the car and makes his way over to the other man as snow crunches under his boots.

“See this? It’s a handle you just pull.” His voice laced with patience as he explained the tricky technology that was a car door. He was a faster learner, on the second try he managed to open the door.

Both were seated in the car and Alfred began to drive away.

“By the way you never told me your name. I’m Alfred. Alfred F. Jones!” A bright smile adorned his face as the other had a tint of red on his cheeks. Probably from the cold.

“My name is I̶͖̠͋̿̐́v̸͈̥̗͇̂a̸̺̿́̆̈́͑n̸̞̐͑̑.”

Alfred could not understand the sounds the other man had just made. He blinks in confusion and clears his throat to hide his nerves.

“What?” asking for clarification.

“Ah, I am sorry. My accent is very thick. My name, to translate it into something you would understand, is Ivan.”

Alfred rolled the name around on his tongue. He offers him a kind smile.

“Cool!”

They arrive at the grocery store. The doors had just opened and it was full of elderly people and tired moms. Alfred hopes the lines aren’t too long, he really doesn’t want to be late, who knows what his boss will say.

“C’mon. We’re here for one thing.” Alfred motions Ivan to follow and he does. The grocery store was just like any other.

Full of food, noises, smells, bright lights. Ivan hates this place. The demon follows Alfred a little too closely. The shorter man can practically feel his body pressed against his own. Damn, he was so touch starved.

“Hey buddy, you think you can take a step back or two?” Stopping in his tracks to confront Ivan about the problem.

“I am here to serve you. I cannot do that if I am far.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking for 6 feet, just a few inches.” Alfred massaged his temples, so this was how the day was going to go, huh?

Ivan thought it over and took a step back.

“Very well then.”

“Thank you.”

The grocery store wasn’t as packed as he thought. Although, because it was only a few days before Christmas he wasn’t sure how likely it was that there were going to be any cute cookies left.

Rushing over to the baked goods sections his eyes zeroed in on the last box of Christmas cookies. A smile curled on his lips that fell just as quickly when he spotted an old woman reaching and then grabbing the box of cookies he so desired.

A look of sadness washed over Alfred; a defeated smile replaced his disappointed frown. Ivan watched as his bright energy seemed to vanish. Something inside of him told him that he needed to do something. They haven’t known each other for very long but the way Alfred has been treating him has been different than the other humans who have summoned him in the past.

The demon has some magic left on reserve for emergencies. Seeing the smile wiped off Alfred’s face was considered an emergency.

A dark aura enveloped Ivan and in an instant he appears in front of the now frightened older woman.

“You are not worthy of those cookies. Your mortal hands are unfit to hold possession of the power and responsibility they yield. Put them down and you shall not be harmed.” Ivan’s pitch was lower than Alfred has ever heard. The man just stared in shocked with his jaw dropped as the older woman practically threw them back on the table and went off speeding as fast as she could with her cart.

Ivan immediately went back to his human form. He picked up the mostly intact cookies and brought them to Alfred.

“For you.” He says, moving his hand up to Alfred’s face to shut his open mouth.

Alfred’s eyes were still wide.

“W-Why did you scare her like that? It was important but not that important she probably shit herself!”

“You are very crass. I did it for you.”

Alfred was upset but the action was very endearing. The way the black aura shrouded Ivan was pretty hot. Wait, why was thinking that? He needed to stop.

“Thank you. That was really nice of you. But you can’t scare old ladies like that! Maybe next time, ask her if she’s willing to give them up. You’ve probably traumatized her for life.”

“It does not seem like she had much time left.” Ivan said with complete seriousness. Alfred elbowed Ivan trying not to laugh.

“Alright! Let’s go pay for this bad boy.”

“Why must we pay? We fought for this, we won. We deserve to keep the spoils.”

“That’s not how it works, big guy.” Alfred claps the taller man on the shoulder as he leads them to the cash register.

“By the way. You gotta show me that magic trick you did earlier with the old lady.”

“Magic?”

“Yeah! Like did you have some smoke bombs? A voice changer?” Alfred’s eyes sparkle never taking his eyes off Ivan as he pays.

“I am a demon.”

“I see. A magician never reveals his secrets.” Alfred nods in understanding. “Artie’s the same way! He never thought we could see him practicing. But he wore this goofy cape everywhere.”

They talk as they make their way back to the car. Ivan opens the passenger door like a pro. The cookies seated safely on Ivan’s lap as they continue to talk.

“Artie?” he asks, the name tumbling clumsily on his lips.

“Yeah! My cousin Arthur. Yeah! He’s the one I got the book from that had the recipe of the cookies you ate.”

Ivan felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Alfred seemed nice enough, but he simply cannot believe that he is a demon and that Alfred summoned him. He needed to save his strength and peace of mind and just played along.

“Come with me to the office Christmas party? We get a plus one and since you’re already with me, and since we’re already on our way.”

“Yes.” There were too many things in Alfred’s sentence that flew over his head and it was just easier to accept them. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

They park by a plain building with grey brick, the parking lot covered in the fresh snow that was falling. Getting out of the car, Ivan vowed to protect these Christmas cookies with his life. He would ensure their safety until they arrived at their destination: The Break Room.

Alfred pressed a button, and they entered the elevator. He saw Ivan flinch and took his hand to calm him. Ivan’s shoulders dropped as he took a breath; he was grateful for the hand. The hand was soft and warm against his. The elevator bell dinged, and Alfred let go much to Ivan’s disappointment. Both of them stepped out and into Alfred’s workplace.

The shorter man greeted a few of his co-workers as he wore a friendly smile making his way over to the break room. His boss was there already, telling a story clearly no one wanted to hear.

“Look who made it on time for once, huh?” As he laughed. Ivan saw Alfred twitch and the demon narrowed his eyes at the small man. The party had plenty of treats and goodies. With more than enough cookies.

“Oh, I thought you asked me to get the cookies?” Alfred asked through gritted teeth.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I figured you wouldn’t so I asked Martina to bake some instead. Sorry, completely slipped my mind.” Alfred wanted to kill him. He has never wanted to murder someone so badly.

“I mean you’re not exactly the brightest, which is fine, we all have our strengths.”

Ivan has no clue what is happening, but he knows Alfred is not as stupid or forgetful as this man is making him seem. From what he has seen Alfred is kind, generous, and patient. Qualities he does not see from most mortals.

“Just let this be a lesson for ya, okay?” walking over to Alfred and putting a hand on his shoulder. Alfred was visibly uncomfortable. Ivan snapped. It didn’t matter if it used up the last of his power in getting home. The black aura returned along with blue flames. Horns protruded from his head as dark wings ripped through the back of his shirt. Wings that expanded the entire length of the break room.

“How dare you say such things when you are nothing but a miserable pile of waste. You are a pitiful excuse for a mortal. You are a worm beneath my feet and the feet of the one who summoned me.”

Ivan stomps over to the shaking manager and effortlessly picks the man up by the throat. The manager struggles in his grip. The employees gasp and watch with shocked expressions.

“You will show some respect and reverence to those who deserve it since you are only the dirt under my foot.” Ivan drops the man with a thud and the manager wriggles away and hides behind the other employees. Alfred stands tall as Ivan turns to him and reverts to his human form. Ivan lets out a heavy sigh as Alfred wraps his arms around the other man and kisses him. Ivan doesn’t know what this means but his human form seems to know instinctively to kiss back.

They break it and Ivan sweeps Alfred off his feet and picks him up bridal style. Alfred laughs and wraps his arms around his neck. Ivan goes to leave but Alfred stops him for a moment.

“Also. I quit. Merry Christmas, bitch!”

#rusame secret santa 2020 #rusame #aph russia #aph america #christmas #aph #my shit

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nimmy22 · 3 years ago

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A Mistake: Chapter 1

summery: Set before the events of spencer's mansion. Slight AU where the Birkin's most recent babysitter gets more than she ever bargained for on one stormy night as she watched over Sherry. Cara was ready for a blackout but she almost got her life snuffed out when two forces attack the Brikin’s home, their goals unclear. All Cara wanted to do was get Sherry to safety but with the phone lines dead, she has to rely on herself. Will Albert Wesker be an ally? Or will he add Cara to the list of things needing a "clean up"?

I hope you enjoy!

Reposted from my account on AO3 under my username doomer.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomer

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

This was not how she thought the night would go. The worst that should have happened tonight was a power outage due to the howling winds and rain threatening to shatter the glass and uproot trees.

Cara was prepared, having dug around the house for a flashlight as soon as she arrived, making sure the windows were closed. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin, suffocatingly tight. She regretted the black skirt and navy-blue sweater she chose to wear for the day as the wind wouldn't stop nipping at her skin. The whole way here, Cara clung onto Claire's body as the redhead dropped her off after school on the back of her motorbike before heading home. Her red leather jacket was envy, but at least now, Cara had found shelter in the spacious home.

Storms like this weren't out of the norm here in Raccoon City. Nowhere in the city was immune to the outages, not even in this affluent neighborhood where the Umbrella's most prominent employees, as well as the mayor, lived.

And so, it wasn't long before the cartoons playing on the bulky T.V screen flickered to darkness. Sherry turned back to Cara, immediately crawling towards her babysitter from where she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor in front of the TV.

Cara was ready and flickered the flashlight on, but it seemed like the batteries were nearly dead. The beam was weak, and she had to shake it a few times before the light would give a steady glow.

"Cara, I'm scared," Sherry said, sliding next to the high schooler on the couch. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the hand that Cara held the flashlight with as if to help power it up. It did not work—what a surprise. Cuteness is not an energy form.

"Don't worry. I am right here. You live on the nice side of town. It won't be long before we get the power back." Cara said, pinching Sherry's little chubby cheeks. "While we wait, let's go look for some new batteries. These won't last for another hour."

"Ok, I saw some batteries in daddy's office the other day," Sherry said, beaming at her friend. The scent of Cara lingered around the house more often than her own mother. It helped soothe her loneliness for a time, until it faded. She had been beyond happy to finally convince her parents she still needed a babysitter after her old one vanished mysteriously. A babysitter was the only way to have any form of company in the empty house. No friends were allowed over while her parents were out. And they were never home.

"Great! I would rather replace these before we're forced to run around in the dark to find some," Cara said, returning the young girl's smile.

Sherry grabbed Cara's hand and began leading the older girl up the stairs. Two steps up, and her little feet paused their ascend.

"Daddy wasn't happy the last time I snuck in there. He just knew that I went in, but I didn't even touch anything. What should we do, Cara?" The little girl looked down at Cara from where she stood, fiddling with her pendant. It was a present from her mom for her last birthday. The pendant regularly brought the little girl comfort, but she would have easily traded it for more time spent with her parents.

"Don't worry. I'm sure we can find some in other places without getting in trouble with Mr. Birkin." Cara said, leaning towards the little girl with a grin.

While Cara hadn't expected anything from this babysitting job over the weekend, she got something she didn't know she was missing out on. A little sister. Like Cara, Sherry was also an only child, and they found an instant connection with each other. Cara felt a familial love towards the young girl that she herself never received from her mother and father—another thing they had in common.

While Cara was at the Birkin’s home, she found herself pretending that she was watching over her little sister while their parents were working into the late hours of the night. Her real home, real family, were something that she would much rather disengage her mind from for as long as possible. Any excuse to stay away was a good one.

With Sherry in one hand and the flashlight in the other, Cara set out to search the house for batteries. They rummaged through the kitchen drawers only to come up with eating utensils and loose change. Strangely, the kitchen was very much lacking in cooking appliances, but it was clear the Birkins were rarely home, and when they were, cooking was not a priority.

The trashcan was piled high with takeout boxes, and Cara made a mental note to take it out before she left, seeing as no one was going to remove it anytime soon. She could come next Friday and find it still there. The house wasn't exactly dirty. Almost everything was covered in layers of dust. Other than Sherry and her parents, Cara did not know who else sets foot into the spacious home. Many rooms went unused. The home appeared grand on the outside, but the inside did not live up to the expectation she once had the first time she came here. However, this was still a safe haven for her away from home.

Everything was all too quiet, too still—no buzzing of the fridge, no cars passing by, no humming of the electricity. The silence was filled with the sound of their feet, and their exhales. Compared to Cara, Sherry's feet were much quieter against the wooden floors. But her nervous breathing was louder.

While Cara was trying to appear strong and confident for the little girl, she couldn't help but begin to flatter in her steps. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but something did sit right.

Tik Tok. Tik Tok.

As they neared the staircase on their way back to the living room, they passed a clock hung on the wall. It was half-past ten.

"This will have to do," Cara said, reaching for the clock and removing its batteries. "Don't be scared, ok? I'm just going to replace the batteries. Can you hold these for a second?" the little girl nodded, clutching her tiny hands onto Cara's shirt as she accepted the batteries with her other hand. The metal cylinders were icy cold in her hand, but she gripped them harder. With a reassuring smile, Cara removed the batteries from the flashlight, and the room was engulfed in darkness.

"Here, pass them to me," Cara said, feeling for the little girl's hand.

Just as Cara felt the now warm metal cylinder in her hand, a bang startled them both. It wasn't loud, it wasn't enough to shake the walls, but it started them just enough for the batteries to drop to the wooden floor before rolling into the darkness. There was nothing but the sound to indicate which way it went.

Sherry yelped, clinging to Cara even tighter. "What was that?" She whispered, a tremble taking over her lips.

"I don't know," Cara answered, her pulse racing. She drew the girl closer to her body, waiting for another sound—but heard nothing.

"Maybe daddy or mommy came home?" Sherry said, completely unconvinced by her own proposal.

"I don't think so. Your dad said they won't be back tonight." Cara answered, gently nudging the little girl toward the staircase. She inserted the old batteries back into the flashlight before leading Sherry upstairs. The beam was weak, but it got them there.

"You'll be safer in your room," Cara said before reaching to close the bedroom door as the little girl entered. "Wait here, Sherry, I'll be right back, I promise. It's probably just kids with nothing better to do on a Friday night. I know a few idiots right off the top of my head who would think this is funny."

"Wait! Where are you going, Cara?" The little girl said desperately, her eyes growing twice their size as she realized Cara was leaving her.

"I'll be back," Cara said and again attempted to leave. Above them, a skylight window bathed the little girl's room with the pale moonlight.

"But what if you don't come back?" Sherry whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Why wouldn't I?" Cara said, her eyebrows furrowing. She was trying to convince herself that this was nothing, but Sherry wasn't helping whatsoever.

"Sorry," Sherry responded, crawling her way under the bed.

Cara left, gently shutting the door behind her as she went. She made her way downstairs, doing her best to muffle her breathing and lighten her footfalls. She checked the front door and found it pleasantly locked. "It's probably some idiots," She muttered, feeling the tension lifted from her shoulders. She checked the windows on the first floor and found them similarly untouched. With an eye-roll, she made her way to the staircase, keen on heading back to comfort the little girl and inform her of the lack of danger.

She hadn't taken four steps before she spotted a shape in the darkness that hadn't been there before from the corner of her eye. Her heart jumped a beat better than she could've ever jumped the obstacles in track and field. Her gut screamed at her to flee in the other direction, to hide next to Sherry under the bed. Instead, she Collected her scattered courage and pointed the flashlight at the source of her unease.

Only there was nothing. The silhouette was gone. Before Cara could continue her search, the flashlight died, and she was left with an even stronger gut feeling. "Not now, damn it!" She cursed, aggressively shaking the flashlight.

She sighed in relief for a split second as the weak beam returned, only to feel all the breath being snatched from her lungs. A six-foot-man, heavily armed and dressed in black fatigues, came straight for her, face obscured by a ski mask. A scream bubbled its way out of her throat, only to burst prematurely as the intruder raised a gun to his lips. She forced her lips shut, feeling hot tears build up before they trickled down her cold cheeks.

#albert wesker #resident evil #Albert Wesker X OC

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 5 years ago

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Hello I love your work Can I requested 16, jasonette, with a happy ending please? Have a nice day

Prompt 16: “I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.” Jasonette.

This took forever and a day, and I do apologize. HOWEVER, I had to figure out how to make this happy at the end. Hope I did a good job with it.

—————————————————————————————————-

He felt like someone had twisted a knife into his chest as he looked down at her. He was holding her wrists, confused and frightened himself. He wasn’t sure who she was or what she wanted. The only thing he knew was she looked devastated, and was sobbing her pretty eyes out... and it made him want to cry, too, for some reason.

She was so tiny compared to his hulking frame of six feet, two inches. She didn’t even come up to his shoulder, stopping more at his sternum. She had black hair that fell loosely around her heart-shaped face, a cute button nose and a pair of soft-looking lips finished it off.

Jason knew he wouldn’t sleep well for a while. Her eyes would haunt him.

Those soft grey-blue eyes were full of anger, sorrow, and betrayal. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Those eyes were begging him to do something, but what? He didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t know how to make her feel better. He didn’t even know her.

But apparently she knew him.

“Jason… Jason, please! It’s me, Jase! It’s Marinette! Why are you looking at me like that?” Her begging voice was absolutely broken, garbled with sobs.

“I’m sorry… but I don’t remember you,” he told her softly. “I’m really sorry.”

He repeated over and over that he didn’t remember who she was, but all it did was make her look more desperate — and the more Jason’s heart shattered in his chest.

He wasn’t sure why he was so affected by her tears. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to care about her. Jason hadn’t cared about anyone in years, save for maybe Dick.

“But Jason… Jase… Why did you stop answering me? Why are you pretending like you don’t know me? You were my best friend… I loved you. I loved you, Jason. Hell, I thought I still loved you! I was so excited to see you because I knew you, I love you!”

Jason winced, the ache in his chest growing.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry…”

Eventually, the sobbing woman was pulled away by a black-haired woman with the most vicious looking eyes he’d ever seen. Her lips were pulled into a snarl as she addressed him, clearly not afraid of him despite being about a foot smaller than him.

She gently wrapped her arms around Marinette and guided her away from him, which filled Jason with relief as well as extreme apprehension.

The dark-haired man was relieved — he no longer had to stop this foreign woman from hugging him, nor did he have to deal with her tears. But Jason was also apprehensive. This Marinette woman knew too much about him to be a stranger to him.

She knew he loved classic literature. She knew his favorite subject in school was English. She knew he wrote poetry. She knew he loved Alfred like his own grandfather, that Alfred had taught him to cook. She knew his favorite type of baked goods were conchas because they were sweet and slightly crispy. She knew that Dick had bought him the Lord of the Rings novels for his birthday (and Jason had cried over it). She also knew that he had a collection of works written by Edgar Allen Poe… and claimed to be the one to have given it to him for his twelfth birthday.

Jason could feel himself trembling a little bit as fear clawed at his chest. No one could have known that unless they talked to either Jason himself or Dick. Dick wasn’t there. Dick was in Bludhaven. Dick couldn’t have talked to her.

He doubted that Bruce or Alfred would have told anyone private information like that either.

He needed to go home. He needed to find that collection, needed to know the truth.

Jason rushed past Bruce and the tide of people around him. He let his feet carry him towards the exit, forgotten voices ringing in his ears. He burst through the door, sprinting out into the busy street.

He took a few gulps of air as he adjusted to the sunlight, his lungs burning as frigid air entered. Because he was looking frantically for a cab or anything else that could take him home, he could barely hear his name being shouted until a hand grabbed his wrist.

Jason spun around, ready to fight. His other fist flew towards the person who grabbed him, but the person was faster than him. They had released his wrist and dodged his swing.

"Jason, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" an annoyed voice snapped. "Bruce is going to call Dick at this rate!"

Jason blinked a few times before he was able to refocus. He noted the speaker had chin-length black hair and cobalt blue eyes. He recognized the face as his replacement, one Timothy Drake.

"Jason! What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jason shook his head violently, feeling his throat closing up. How could she have known all of that? How did she know him? Why didn't he remember her? Why couldn't he figure this out?

A horrible laughter rang in his ears.

Why can't you remember, Boy Blunder?

Why can't you remember, little bird?

Did Uncle J hit you too hard?

I know you're tougher than that!

C'mon, you're the Bat's junior detective! Can't you figure out anything?

Then again, you didn't realize your mummy dearest was working for Uncle J—

Then everything went black.

—————

When he woke up, a pair of concerned green eyes was gazing down at him.

Green eyes? No one in his family aside from him had green eyes. He blinked a few times before noting the person also had bright red hair. Confusion littered his thoughts as he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. He tried to sit up, but two quick hands stopped him, gently pushing back down on his chest.

“Easy there, Jay. You fainted on the sidewalk. Timmy and Diana brought you home, and I brought Dickie back home. We were really worried about you.” This voice was familiar.

Ah, that would explain it.

Wally must have been visiting Dick in Bludhaven. Once Dick heard that something had happened to him, he must have asked the speedster to bring him back to Gotham. Wally, being Dick’s best friend, would have brought him without question. The only remaining question to be answered at the moment would be Dick’s whereabouts, and why Wally was the one sitting with him.

A few bangs and a crash later, his elder brother came barreling into the room. Dick was a mess, only in his pajamas and his hair an absolute mess. He looked stressed, dark bags under his eyes making him look like a raccoon. His familiar sky-blue eyes found Jason, and once he realized he was awake, Dick raced over to him.

“Little wing!” Dick breathed, hugging his little brother tight. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Jason looked around in confusion as he spotted Tim and Diana walking into the room. Tim’s face was paler than normal and his eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to solve the most difficult puzzle he’d ever encountered. Diana looked relieved to see him awake, giving him a gentle smile. They both waited for Dick to be done fussing over Jason to speak.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, Jason,” Diana said softly. “You gave Tim quite a scare when you fell on him.”

“Who was that woman, Jason?” Tim asked. “The one who tried to hug you. The one who was crying.”

Jason’s blood turned cold as he remembered just what he’d been thinking about before he spiralled.

“Dick, I need you to get something out of my old room,” he whispered. “I need you to get a book. The collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s works.”

“Little wing, are you sure? Don’t you want to rest—”

“Dick, the book. It’s important.”

Dick gave him a confused look but went to fetch the book. Once Dick had left the room, Jason turned his attention towards Tim.

“You’re tech-savvy, aren’t you, Tim? Do you think you could find records or traces of an old email account of mine? One I had before the Joker canned me?” Jason asked, trying to control his racing heart.

“...Depending on the server and whether or not they’ve wiped it, maybe,” Tim replied hesitantly, chewing on his lip. “I could try.”

“Please?”

Tim grabbed his laptop. For the next ten minutes, the only things audible were the tapping of keys on the keyboard and the blood roaring in his ears. Jason remained silent as he waited for Dick to return with his book.

He needed to see it, needed to see the inside cover. The inside cover would, at the very least, give him a starting point to go off of. He didn’t need to panic just yet.

Dick came back a few moments later with the well-loved and worn book. He went to hand it to Jason, but paused as he noticed his brother’s hands were now shaking violently.

“Little wing...what’s wrong?”

“Dick, open the cover.”

“Jason—”

“Just open the fucking cover, Dick! Read to me what’s on the inside!”

Dick slowly opened the cover, not understanding what the hell was going on. Why would there be something on the inside cover? Did Jason write a note there? Was there something hidden or taped there? Did it have anything to do with what had happened to Jason earlier?

His eyes locked onto the message, written in red ink, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dear Jason, I hope this present gets to you on time. I don’t know how long it takes mail to get to Gotham from Paris, so I apologize if it’s late. I also hope this is the correct copy! I wanted to send you macrons, but Maman said that would be very hard and there’s lots of rules. You’ll have to come back to Paris again if you want more of our macrons. I miss you a lot. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon!

Happy twelfth birthday!

Love, Marinette.”

Jason covered his face with both hands and moaned.

“God, I did know her…”

Tim and Dick exchanged a look with each other before asking Jason about what had happened. Jason launched into his explanation of how the young woman had called his name and ran up to him. She’d tried to hug him, but Jason had grabbed her and not allowed her to touch him. She said her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and according to her, they had met when Bruce took him to Paris for a business trip.

“She knew personal details about me,” Jason choked. “I knew she couldn’t be a stranger because she knew stuff that only Dick would know about me. She told me she gave me that book for my birthday. She told me she wrote a note in it...and it’s there. It’s really there. I knew her… I knew her before the Joker killed me.”

“...That’s why she was crying,” Tim said quietly, putting the pieces together. “You didn’t remember her.”

Jason nodded, feeling his body go numb.

“I tried remembering. I tried, but I remembered him instead.”

Dick gave Jason’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he continued.

“I must have spiralled from there. Did you find my email, Tim?”

Tim nodded before replying, “You emailed back and forth for a few years. You have over forty emails from… from after you died.”

Jason gestured for the computer, and Tim handed it to him. He sat up more before looking at everyone in the room.

“Can I be left alone? I want to read these.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dick asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What if another email sets you off again?”

“Then just one of you stay with me. I want to try to remember her. I need to.”

Tim saw the look on Dick’s face and quickly grabbed Wally’s arm. He gestured to Diana, and the three left Dick and Jason alone in the living room. Tim knew that Dick was going to try and dig into this, and he wanted to be nowhere near them when Jason exploded. He suggested that they all go get some cookies from Alfred, and that Diana should distract Bruce when he came home.

“Why is it so important that you remember her?” Dick asked quietly. “This could dig up things—”

“I have to, Dick.”

“Jason, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“YOU WEREN’T THERE, DICK!”

The older man took a step back, slightly shocked about Jason’s outburst. He knew the young man had had an emotional night, but he wasn’t expecting this at all.

“You weren’t there,” Jason hissed. “You didn’t see her. She looked so betrayed, scared… sad. She looked like I’d ripped her heart out of her goddamn chest, Dick. Her friend glared at me when she led her away. She was sobbing, and it wasn’t fake. You can’t fake that shit.”

Tears stung his eyes as he barely managed to choke out his next words. “She said she loves me, Dick. She loves me, and I don’t remember who she is. I need to find out who she was to me. I feel like she was important. Really important.”

Dick fell silent. Jason watched his big brother rub his eyes and sigh in exhaustion, before sitting down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder in his brotherly way before telling him that he was here for him, no matter what the emails said.

Jason nodded grimly before going back to the beginning.

——————

It didn’t work.

He still couldn’t recall who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was.

Reading their emails felt like reading through someone else’s letters, not his.

He couldn’t recall inside jokes that they had shared.

He couldn’t recall the events that they had shared together.

He couldn’t recall the emotions attached to the emails.

She felt like someone completely separate from him, as if the Jason Todd who existed before the Joker’s crowbar was someone completely separate from the Jason after.

But he knew more about her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was kind.

She was supportive.

She was creative.

She was intelligent.

She was a problem solver.

She was the kind of person Jason Todd had always respected, the one who put others' needs before her own. She was the one who came to save the day. She was the one who would come up with a creative solution to a seemingly impossible problem. She was the one who would listen to your concerns genuinely and soothe your fears. She was the person who loved so fiercely no matter how many times her heart had been hurt.

The Jason Todd that was here and now could not remember who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, but he wanted to change that.

And damn whoever came in his way.

Tim had hunted down her phone number and gave it to him. The only thing left to do now was for Jason to call her. He hoped he could still make this right.

From her emails, Marinette did seem like a good person, and Jason couldn’t help but feel terrible that he’d hurt her. He knew he couldn’t get his memories back, but he could make new ones. Hopefully, she’d give him the chance to do that.

He held his cellphone in a vice grip as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello...my name is Jason Todd. When I was fifteen years old, I was in a car accident that nearly killed me. I lost… I lost a good chunk of my memories of things that had happened before that. I found your note in my book… and I found our emails.”

Jason could hear the intake of breath on the other end of the phone. He could also hear muffled sounds, and he prayed that she wasn’t crying again.

“I’m really sorry, Marinette. I don’t remember you, and I can’t get those memories back. The only thing I can do is apologize and hope that you’ll let me make new memories with you,” he said, his voice strained.

“I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth. I’m sorry that we had to meet this way. I’m sorry that I still don’t remember you even after reading all of our emails… but I want to change that.”

“How? How can you change that?” Her broken voice replied.

“By seeing you again. This… this isn’t going to be easy,” he warned her. “This is going to be hard. But you are a good person. You answered my emails with such kindness and compassion. You always took care to think about my needs and feelings — you’re the kind of person I’d want as a friend. I want to restart, if you’re willing.”

A broken sob echoed on the other end before a watery voice replied, “Hi...my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m twenty years old. I work for Style Queen in New York City as an apprentice designer.”

A smile broke out on Jason’s face as he said, “Hi, Marinette. My name is Jason Todd. I’m twenty-one years old. I work freelance security in Gotham City. It’s very nice to meet you.”

#jasonette #maribat #prompts #kan writes some things #kan answers an ask #long post

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in-tua-deep · 5 years ago

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Umbrella academy hogwarts au? I feel like 5 would be a slytherin. Would he be in a younger year than everyone else, kinda like in your pride and prejudice AU?

HMMM i think if i was ever to go for a real hogwarts au and not just gently dumping all the characters into the hp world for a laugh (they make it so easy with five’s mystery jump at the end of s1 lmao) then it would have to start from like. the very beginning and together. as Actual Kids.

(p&p au is a bit different bc it’s a no-powers-period-drama type au)

we’re not going to explain why hogwarts is getting some american kids bc i don’t have the brainpower rn to think of why. maybe reginald trained them in the US in this au and then moved them to the UK in the months preceding their debut for whatever reason which officially makes them a Hogwarts Problem now idk

lemme put this under a read more

so instead you have Five at like, ten-and-three-quarters years old. They’re scheduled to debut in front of the entire world very soon. Five has bruises on his skin and anger in his heart, even as young as he is.

(He’s not the worst off. Klaus has screaming nightmares and bags under his eyes so dark he looks like a raccoon. Ben hasn’t spoken a word in two weeks after his last special training session with their dad. Diego’s arm is in a cast where sparring with Luther went wrong a week or so ago.)

And Five is the curious child, the challenging child. He’s a constant buzz of need to know, have to know, have to move move move and part of that is knowing everything that’s going on in the house. With his power to jump, he knows all the good spying spots. He knows which rooms are above the others, knows which vents have sound that carry, knows the spots he can prop himself in and see but not be seen.

So when there’s someone knocking on the front door, Five sneaks into one such spot and looks - because no one knocks on their door, ever. Reginald’s door is never knocked upon by girl scouts or friendly neighbors or salesmen. It’s like, a rule. So he’s curious who it is, and he crouches down to watch and to listen.

Grace is the one who answers the door (Pogo tends to keep out of sight of guests, when he can) and offers the severe looking woman a dazzling smile. Five thinks she’ll be turned away, but Grace nods and gestures her inside and tells her to wait right there as she fetches Mr. Hargreeves -

His dad comes, looking just as severe as the woman does and twice as intimidating. And then the woman opens her mouth to speak and -

Magic?

Them?

A boarding school?

And Five doesn’t really think they’re magic. Yeah, unexplained things happen around them all the time (Klaus’s lightbulbs were constantly being replaced when he bolted out of a nightmare screaming and they blew or shattered or whatever) but that’s just part of their powers, right?

But a boarding school. That’s promising. Even if they aren’t magic or whatever, even if this school is for insane people - anything is better than here. And it’s not foster care, right? If it’s a school then there’s no issue of them being split up, being torn apart. They’re a family, and Five has been trying desperately to think of a plan to get them out since he was seven-and-a-half

Of course, Reginald says no. Denies everything. Refuses to acknowledge the woman and sends her out.

And Five has about three seconds for his quicksilver mind to run back over the conversation, to pick up on the woman’s bristling and comments about control and community and you can’t hide magic forever and -

Five jumps, in a flash of blue, and pops out in front of the woman outside. She startles with wide eyes. “What on earth - ”

“What happens if a magical child wants to attend but their non-magical guardians do not.” Five asks the woman, hands clenched into fists by his sides.

The woman stares at him for a long time, “It would depend on the circumstances - ”

That’s a bullshit answer if Five’s ever heard one, and he cuts her off. “If a magical child needs to be trained, could they achieve that going around a guardian? What are the laws concerning education?”

The woman looks over her shoulder, back towards the manor. She looks bemused that this tiny slip of a child is confronting her like this outside of the knowledge of his parents.

Five grits his teeth, because this is a low risk high reward situation. If the woman leaves - whatever, no skin off his back or however that saying goes. If she can get them out and going to this fancy boarding school so that they’re only within Reginald’s sphere of influence during the break times - well.

Five has a hunch, and plays it without mercy.

“He’s not our biological father. He bought us. We have - we do things no else can do. Magic? He wants us to be superheroes. He’s got something planned, to show us off to the whole world. Us and our powers.”

If the woman’s face had gotten tight at the beginning of Five’s words, it’s aghast at the end of it. So Five is correct - if magic was real, then Five should have already heard about it. If it is and he hasn’t, that means that the magic people are exceptionally good at keeping secrets.

Which means Reginald and his planned publicity works in Five’s favor.

“I’ll see what can be done.” The woman says grimly.

But there’s something Five needs confirmation of, because it’s important. “If one of us goes, we all go.” He tells the woman, feet planted shoulder width apart and hands curled into fists with the thumbs on the outside. Ready for a fight. “We stay together.”

(Vanya doesn’t have powers, like the rest of them. But Five will be damned before he leaves her behind in this house by herself, not when Reginald hardly cares if she lives or dies.)

The woman blinks, waves her hand like that was never the problem. “There are seven children at this address, yes? If that’s all of you, you all have places at Hogwarts.”

Five, who was geared up to defend his position and smuggle Vanya with him in a suitcase if necessary, melts back. “There are seven of us.” Five says, cautious and careful, “But - yes. There are seven of us.”

(He almost tells her that Vanya isn’t magic, but if they think she is then he’s not going to try and persuade them otherwise. He’ll figure something out for later, when they realize she’s ordinary. He’ll find a way to fake magical powers for her or something.)

“I’ll be back.” The woman tells him, looking serious. Then she raises a stick in the air (what?) and something happens and she just - warps in place and vanishes. It makes Five jump back, startled.

What was that? That wasn’t - that wasn’t jumping. Not the way he does it. But - she vanished? There’s no blue light but it looks so much like what he does that he can’t help but doubt. Are there variations of his power? Are there lots of people who can jump?

Suddenly this whole ‘magic school’ thing is looking more like something exciting to look forward to instead of just a convenient escape route.

Five hovers for a few seconds, before jumping himself. It wouldn’t do to be found lurking outside of the manor when he isn’t supposed to be permitted outside at all, after all.

He waits with baited breath until a week later he wakes up to yelling and scrambles for the door. He can see his other siblings coming out as well in the pajamas, all of them exchanging looks and agreeing as one to creep quietly to figure out what’s going on.

What’s going on isn’t quiet at all. There’s a dozen men and women downstairs, including the woman that Five spoke to the week before. They all looks very official, and they all have sticks like the woman did. Does.

Reginald looks furious.

They’re all crouched in Five’s spot, the good one where if you stay still no one would notice you between the banisters but you get an unobstructed view. The key is if you stay still. One of them moves, or makes a noise, or whatever and one of the people’s eyes snap up to look directly at them.

They all freeze.

“You might as well come down here, children.” One woman says, looking distinctly unimpressed. “This involves you, after all.”

They look to Reginald, but he says nothing. He doesn’t even look at them at all, though they can see the muscle in his jaw tightening.

The travel carefully down the stairs, single file, in order. Klaus and Ben hold hands as they go down, and Five looks back frequently to make sure that everyone is present, including Vanya.

“I’m afraid,” The woman from the week before speaks up in her Scottish brogue, “That is has come to our attention that… your guardian can no longer provide you with the necessary education you require by law.”

She keeps going, explaining to them about magic. Five can see Vanya at the end of their little like, getting more and more pale by the second. Five heard most of this speech the day before, so it’s easy for him to duck out of their little line and bump Klaus and Ben over so that he can stand by her side.

He takes her hand in his, not caring about how Luther and Allison are shooting him looks. He squeezes tightly and, after a second, she squeezes back.

They’re in language classes with Grace together, so it’s easy to him to tap against her hand.

n-o g-o w-o u

Not going without you. Vanya is still pale, but she squeezes Five’s hand and stops looking like she’s going to pass out on the floor.

“As such,” The woman is continuing, “You will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be staying with me until the start of the term, during which time we will sort out permanent living arrangements.”

“We’re not coming back?” Luther demands loudly, looking frightened. Five would almost feel bad if he didn’t remember the fact that Luther was still recovering from a concussion from private training that he still would talk about. “But - what about dad?”

“Your father is not equipped to deal with magical children.” The woman tells them, actually quite diplomatically. Five can read between the lines though to where she’s actually saying this man is an abusive fuck who shouldn’t have been permitted to care for a cactus let alone seven entire human beings.

“We stay together?” Five pipes up, staring holes into the strangers in his house. “No matter what, we stay together, right?”

The woman inclines her head, “We will do our utmost to ensure it, Mr. - ”

She pauses for him to fill in his name, and he can feel the panicked look Luther is shooting him. He’s the worst one to ask for his name, because he gave up his chance for a name so Vanya could have one.

Luther is shaking his head, trying to get Five’s attention to signal him to not answer, but Five lifts his chin up high. He is not ashamed as he puts the final nail in Reginald’s coffin.

“Number Five. I’m Number Five.”

The expressions on every adults face are priceless and drive home just how not ordinary that is. Just how terrible it is to have a number instead of a name. Five doesn’t understand it - he likes his name, thank you - but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to use it as a weapon to put another knife in Reginald’s back.

And that’s how, against some of their protests (mainly Luther, who protests leaving Reginald, and Diego, who protests leaving Grace) all of the kids end up in the house of “Professor McGonagall” who at this point is just. resigned to these kids being weird as fuck

(to be valid she first met Five apparently apparating with a) 0 training and b) without even a wand what the fuck)

They’re all just. Really confused? They all report for breakfast bright and early and McGonagall hasn’t even had her morning coffee yet and she’s just kind of like “yeah you kids do whatever, settle in and all that. we’ll go to diagon alley and pick up school supplies and all that later”

and it is bizarre. The kids stick close to one another, watch all the weird magic shit going down with careful eyes, and then they get their wands. Five almost has a fit because what if they find out Vanya isn’t magical and he’s about two seconds away from using his own shiny new wand (that had let out a bright blue light reminiscent of the one that came with his powers) when Vanya picks one up and waves it and manages to blast through three shelves.

The wand maker looks absolutely delighted at this destruction of the shop and all of them gape at Vanya because they were not expecting her to be magical. And clearly Vanya wasn’t expecting to be magical either, because she’s pale and shocked as the wand maker plucks the destructive wand from her hand and pops another one in.

All seven of them walk out with their brand new wands, and Vanya and Five hold hands tightly. Half in relief and half in alarm.

When they talk later, hushed whispers camped out in freshly transfigured beds, they come to the conclusion that some witches and wizards just need the stick to do things and that the rest of the Umbrella Academy is kind of weird. (McGonagall lectured Five at length about apparating and not doing it while he made various faces)

The kids survive until term starts and Professor McGonagall takes the to a train station and drops them off and tells them that she’ll see them at the school. They take up an entire compartment by themselves and talk at length about what magic school is going to be like.

Luther is still withdrawn and sullen over being taken away from Reginald, Diego is still sad about Grace, Allison has her head held high and is determined to make a good impression and finally meet some new people outside of her siblings, and Klaus is loud but in the way that means he’s anxious, Ben is speaking again but is still far too quiet, Five has read all of their schoolbooks already and is practically vibrating in place with the need to know everything and Vanya -

Vanya is off her meds. She didn’t want Professor McGonagall to decide she was broken or not good enough or anything because she was on anxiety medication. Any mishaps within the McGonagall house have so far been chalked up to accidental magic (and some of it actually had been). This is important for later.

They change into their robes (just another uniform) and disembark and get to Hogwarts and stand in the Great Hall and listen to the Sorting Hat sing and then - it’s their turn to be sorted.

Luther is all Gryffindor bullheaded stubbornness and an insistence on what he thinks is right, proud and strong. Allison is Slytherin ambition and drive to her bones, clawing her way to the top and making sure she will stay there. Diego is Gryffindor impatience and need to prove himself, doing what is right even if it is outside the law. Klaus is Slytherin cunning and resourcefulness, sneaking out and getting what he needed under the nose of a tyrant (though since leaving the house, drugs have been noticeably absent from his possessions). Ben is Ravenclaw knowledge and hiding behind books, quiet words and hungry eyes. Vanya is Ravenclaw hard work and well gained knowledge, passion for her difficult art and determination to be good at something.

Five gets up there, and the Sorting Hat hums.

Five is made of loyalty that could weather an apocalypse. He is a boy who had a power perfect for running away and keeping away, but who stayed because he couldn’t bear to leave his siblings. Five is a child who, every time he got knocked down, he got back up again. Five is a child who has hard work pressed into the marrow of his bones, who never gives up and never gives in.

Five is driven by knowledge and a need to know. His hunger consumes him, always pushing at boundaries that perhaps would be safer for his health to leave untouched. Always testing and twisting and seeking more. He is bright and smart and one of his very first words was why.

Five is cunning and careful, twisting words and bending rules and scraping everything he can from a bad situation. He is the boy who had a split second to think, who jumped outside and confronted a stranger and went off of a hunch and won it all. The boy who had so few resources to work with, but twisted and pulled at them until they were enough. If getting his entire family out of Reginald’s house intact was not the very definition of ambitious, then nothing is.

Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. Slytherin.

Choose your own adventure, choose your fighter.

Five would probably prefer Ravenclaw, in a house with two of his favorite siblings. Perhaps he would choose Slytherin, because Klaus is fragile and he doubts Allison will protect him and Five has always been protective of his family.

(Klaus is stronger than the family thinks, away from the mausoleum and the memories. He’ll have Slytherin house wrapped around his finger before they know what hit them, will eventually fall in love with a Hufflepuff transfer student named Dave, will eventually be happy.)

Maybe Five is alone in Hufflepuff, a house too kind and too soft for the sort of jagged edges he has. But maybe that’s what he needs. Maybe he doesn’t need a house to sharpen his claws against, to sharpen his words or his mind. Maybe he needs somewhere safe, where people take his hand and show him how to tickle the pear to get into the kitchens and teach him how to play exploding snap and who look the other way when he sneaks out to visit his siblings at night.

(Whatever they can do outside of their wand waving, they discover, it isn’t magic. Or at least, not what the magical world seems to consider magic. They figure this out because apparently Hogwarts is warded against apparating within the grounds.

This doesn’t seem to stop Five.)

There’s so much that needs to be done. The wizarding world is still rebuilding. It’s 2000, scarcely three years after everything went down.

Vanya’s “magic” seems to act up and no one can figure out why (even the family doesn’t realize it’s because she has non-magical powers like the rest of them. how could they? their entire lives Vanya had been ordinary.)

(when the revelation comes, Allison remembers her orders, remembers a small quiet room she was brought and told to say terrible things. They all weather the storm of Vanya’s fury together, magical shield summoned in a technique probably too advanced for their age but Ben is a natural until they finally managed to stun her.

later, they all sit together in the hufflepuff common room, curled up on the sofas with mugs of hot chocolate stolen from the kitchens, regardless of if any of them are even in the house. at the very least Five has a talent for wriggling his way into areas he isn’t supposed to be in. they drink the hot chocolate, and contemplate their lives living with a man who would order something like that.

they are grateful, even luther, of the turn their lives had taken. it would have been so very easy for McGonagall to walk away, to trust that they would be homeschooled or sent abroad or whatever. they are free, and they are thankful)

there is, of course, still the issue of what to do with the seven magical children once their first year comes to an end. they could stay with professor mcgonagall again, perhaps. despite being generally no nonsense, she’s always had a soft spot for the troublemakers (and the Hargreeves, despite best efforts, fall soundly into that category)

maybe they end up staying with some empty nesters. Molly and Arthur Weasely have no children left staying at home since Ginny moved out, and they’re used to dealing with large numbers of magical children. Diego would thrive under Mrs. Weasley’s attention even as he would feel guilty for loving anyone but Grace.

maybe McGonagall calls in a favor, maybe she contacts her old students. She knows a boy who was an orphan himself, who knows what it means to be too skinny and too wary and to not want to go home at the summers. An orphan boy with wealth enough to take care of seven orphans with no problems, who would be glad to take on several wards if it was a favor to his old professor.

(Harry Potter is only 20, but the war aged him. Aged all of his generation, really. There are lots of orphans in the wizarding world, and he is one of them.)

or maybe their arrangements are something else entirely.

The important thing though, is that despite everything they stay together. They might not have the Academy anymore, they might not belong to Reginald, but they are family and they stick by one another.

They protect one another, through means both magical and not.

(If you think Diego is giving up his knives, you are very incorrect about that.)

#anonymous #ask me #tua #tua au #the umbrella academy #hogwarts au #hp au #tua/hp crossover #tua crossover #i will defend slytherin klaus with my life #anyone who says he's too soft to be slytherin wasn't paying attention #but also!! who says slytherin can't be soft!#fight me #i kind of stan hufflepuff five for this au actually even though i usually mentally sort him into slytherin #but this is pre running away five and i think the real slytherin 'ends justify the means' mentality really happened after the commission #he's characterized by loyalty and hard work and i love him okay and he needs soft things sometimes let me have this #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #i also usually stan hufflepuff ben #but that's after ghost ben has been loyally by klaus's side for eons so he gets ravenclaw #wow @ the umbrella academy how come ur mom lets u have magic AND superpowers???

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hideyseek · 4 years ago

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50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

tagged by @usersoup <3

What is the colour of your hairbrush? it is .. black and turquoise, though i must admit that since i’ve cut my hair i rarely use it.

Name a food you never eat? huh. caviar? i tend to forget about the existence of foods i don’t eat until i’m on the instacard website. chocolate ice cream, i guess. that’s like, a normal-person food i never consume.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? i am constantly too cold. as i type this i am in my apartment in sweatpants under a blanket and my roommate is in shorts and a tshirt.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? mm i was reading a room of one’s own, at risk of sounding like the pretentious humanities major i am. i’m reading it out of desperation (we are in possession of the writer’s block and we would like to give it up as soon as possible), after having had it in my head to read since i came across a lin-manuel miranda tween in like 2015 telling all young writers to read it

What is your favourite candy bar? i don’t really like.. candy. twix or butterfingers, if i had to pick one at gunpoint.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? yEAH u fucking bet i went to winterguard international championships twice in high school and bands of america championships once (both as part of my school’s winter/colorguard). i’ve never gone to a pro sportsball match though.

What is the last thing you said out loud? oh, are you really out there alone? (at my roommate, who is on the balcony with a desk lamp rigged up for optimal dirtball making).

What is your favourite ice cream? vanilla. or hazelnut. i fucking love hazelnut.

What was the last thing you had to drink? not to associate myself with brands, but i am drinking sprite as i type this.

Do you like your wallet? yes! i had my wallet nicked on a bus in the middle of the semester and my replacement is a lovely narrow black folding wallet that i am infinitely fond of.

What was the last thing you ate? the dregs of my cheezits, pepper jack flavor

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? mm no, though during my phone call with my grandma earlier this week she told me i should buy more clothes no less than four times. she thinks i should own and wear more “pretty girl clothes” and i haven’t the heart to tell her that i think gender is fake.

The last sporting event you watched? i participated in a harry potter pub quiz over zoom the other week, if that counts. otherwise, probably something televised and american football related, several months ago.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN KETTLE CORN

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? oH thank god i have an interesting answer to this one -- my stage manager/playwright friend, whose recent play i am dying to get a copy of.

Ever go camping? yeah. my family used to go every august with some family friends.

Do you take vitamins? mm just vitamin d. (fuck off this was not meant to be a dick joke).

Do you go to church every Sunday? nah.

Do you have a tan? not anymore... even during the semester i spend most of my time underground in a basement rehearsal space or in the on-campus computer labs. (hence the vitamin d)

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? these are?? not equivalent at all in terms of scope? chinese food, of course.

Do you drink your soda with a straw? nah. can-to-mouth for me.

What colour socks do you usually wear? depends on how cold i am: i have some very lovely warm purple socks and some red and black socks that my dear friend gifted me for christmas last? year? but otherwise i have just sports shoes height white socks and black socks.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i am gay, i do not drive.

What terrifies you? failure, mostly. i hate that that’s my answer, but there you go. failure, or being putting myself in a situation where i don’t really have a choice in what happens to me.

Look to your left, what do you see? mm, i just moved from the study to bed so: the empty space in the loft bed railing where the ladder is, a blank wall, the edge and hinges of the bedroom wall.

What chore do you hate? none, really? i’ll get really passive-aggressive about some of the small apartment tidying things in my head, but not often enough that anything comes to mind now.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? how my linguistics prof last semester had folks self-identify if they spoke non-american english in the middle of lecture

What’s your favourite soda? hm, hm. oH. there’s a vietnamese sandwich place in my hometown that has the best lychee soda. (a handful of google image searches informs me this is elisha aerated brand)

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? hm, most of the time when i’m going to fast food i’m going to in-n-out with either a pile of theater people or my high school friend group, so sitting. er, going in.

Who’s the last person you talked to? roommates, in person.

Favourite cut of beef? i could not name cuts of beef if u asked me to really nicely. actually jk i know uh, ox... oxtail? i like oxtail soup.

Last song you listened to? am in the middle of listening to trenchh by cavetown but i’ve been alternating fob and cavetown and bastille on shuffle on spotify.

Last book you read? ella enchanted by gail carson levine, because it is my #1 comfort book.

Favourite day of the week? i like thursdays. they just sound nice.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? if i had like, several minutes, i probably could do it. but everything after w would involve me counting (counting? reciting?) from the beginning.

How do you like you coffee? i’ll drink it any way but black. i have discovered i do not like dalgona coffee. but i like the dark chocolate mocha that peet’s does in the winter a ridiculous amount.

Favourite pair of shoes? i have this pair of converse that’s grey stripes that always makes me feel like a Cool Arts Student, even though it’s actively terrible for my arches.

The time you normally go to bed? to bed? midnightish. to being asleep? usually 1-2ish.

The time you normally get up? eleven in the morning, apparently, since that’s what’s been happening now that i’m not setting alarms. during the school year, usually 7:30 or 8 because i work in the scene shop half the mornings of the week.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? conceptually? sunsets. aesthetically? also sunsets. metaphorically, though, i prefer sunrises.

How many blankets on your bed? i’ve got a blanket (duvet, maybe? comforter? i have never really vibed with these western concepts of bedding) and another knitted blanket.

Describe your kitchen plates: black and square and slightly chipped because roommates and i get a bit aggressive with cramming them onto the drying rack.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? i like hard cider. (i like soft cider better than hard cider, but the apple taste drowns out the alcohol taste enough for me to have a pretty good time.)

Do you play cards? haha yeah. whenever i’m home i play 24 with my little brother and lose a lot. or my family’ll play 21. or BS, which i fucking hate because i cannot lie for shit.

What colour is your car? still gay, still don’t drive.

Can you change a tire? mmmmmmmmmmm no. i have a shocking lack of car-related life skills for someone holding down a job that mostly involves wrenches.

Your favourite province? oh boy. hubei province, bc there’s no country specification and this feels less impersonal than if i were to just point somewhere in australia.

Favourite job you’ve ever had? hm, let’s limit this to work i’ve done for money, just to narrow the field down. (i tend to like the work i do a lot.) i really really enjoy working as a sound technician, especially as a mic assistant (it checks my “meeting people” box and my “helping people with their emotions” box and my “storytelling for an audience” box because at the theater i work at, pre-show mic check is me talking about my day and has resulted in a handful of people telling me i should try standup). the hours and pay are kind of crap, though. you don’t get friday nights when your friday nights are spent backstage of the same show you’ve heard twenty million times at this point. i also enjoy teaching computer science, because i just fucking like computer science. christ, i just,, miss being at work :c the production of newsies i was gonna do this summer got canceled.

How did you get your biggest scar? mm, pass.

What did you do today that made someone else happy? i, hm. everything that comes to mind feels vaguely manipulative, since i can’t really tell if people were made happy? oh! i had an extended slack conversation with one of the academic interns for the cs class i help teach that was basically just us bonding over word humor. he seems like the kind of person who would have gotten a kick out of it.

I tag: @kittog @wali21 @capt-ann @lemon-yellow @iamanonniemouse @raccoon-sex-dungeon @snakesonacartesianplane @eternalflarg @swimmingseafish (do it if u want! don’t let me bully u into anything)

#tag game #SOUP I LIKED THIS A LOT! THANK U #no pressure friends #!#but also i enjoy holding knowledge about the people i like

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queenborhapreaderships · 5 years ago

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Wherever Loyalty Lies

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Ship: Daryl Dixon/Reader (with a hint of Negan/Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

AO3 link

Description: “When Rick’s group abandons you after you’re hurt, Negan’s men find you in the woods and take you back to The Sanctuary. Negan takes a very special interest in you. You're more or less his favorite. How do you adapt to this new life while still trying to make sense of your past one? What happens when you come face to face with your family that left you all alone?”

***

“Rick!” you cry out in pain and grasp at your side, trying to find and apply pressure to where the bullet ripped into your skin. “Daryl! Glenn!” You call desperately, crawling towards where you last saw your group disappear into the trees in an attempt to flee the massive herd of walkers right behind you. You finally find the wound and squeeze, flinching at the pain it causes.

Glenn didn’t mean to hit you, he really didn’t. It was a normal supply run. Until it wasn’t. You were all out gathering provisions and trying to find food to supplement Alexandria’s ever-dwindling supply. When you heard the groans, you all thought that you could take them because there weren’t too many walkers. Nothing you hadn’t taken out before. Unfortunately though, those initial walkers were only a small taste of what was to come. Once the real body of the hoard appeared from the trees, it became evident that there was no fighting them, their numbers were overwhelming. Daryl nailed a few in the head while Rick and Glenn shot at anything too close for comfort.

As you were all running away from the growing threat, you tripped on your own feet, stumbling and letting out a yelp in surprise. Glenn could only assume you were being attacked, so he whipped around and fired, striking you right below your ribcage. You were in too much of a daze to see what happened next, beyond your supposed family completely ditching you in favor of the shelter of trees.

A groan snaps you back to reality, although you’re unsure if it came from you or the walker right behind you.

“Shit” You mutter under your breath, attempting to stand up to find safety. After a grueling five seconds, you hobble to the dilapidated gas station that rests beside you. You hope that maybe if you can find the bathrooms, you can wait it out and try to find your way back to Alexandria and ask what the fuck happened. Within seconds, you find them and slam the door shut, collapsing down behind it.

You hiss in pain as you begin to examine the damage done. Realizing the bleeding must be stopped if you want to survive another night, you slowly reach up and start unhooking your arms from your favorite sports bra. You shimmy it down your abdomen, in hopes that the pressure it provides is enough to tide you over until the hoard clears. You remind yourself, your chances of coming out of this alive are highest if you stay awake, but you can’t seem to help your eyelids drifting shut.

You awake suddenly to the sound of voices and heavy footsteps. The hoard must’ve cleared, but how long were you out? You look down at your makeshift bandage, and to be honest, it’s not looking very good. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl must not have come looking for you. You frown and try to stand up to avoid being trapped in, but you’re instantly dizzy and collapse back down in a heap. “Must be the blood loss,” you murmur to yourself. Unfortunately, your failed attempt at a graceful exit brought the attention of the men stomping around over to you.

“Hey, Dwight, did you hear that? Get your ass over here.” a voice calls out. You hold your breath, knowing people these days are rarely a good thing. Especially in groups. The footsteps grow louder and you shrink away into a stall, hoping to avoid being spotted. Your feet disappear from sight just as the door the bathroom is kicked open.

“Probably just a raccoon or something,” a gruff voice replies.

“I don’t know, man, I could’ve sworn I heard something bigger” The men stalk further into the room. Someone begins kicking the stalls open and your heart drops. This is it, this is the end, you think to yourself. After all this time, everything you’ve been through, everyone you’ve met. You’re gonna die, bloody and alone because your family left you for dead. When they reach you, it’ll all be over. Not even taken out by a walker, which is ironic after everything you’ve been through. Eventually, they reach your stall and kick it open, just like the rest.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” one of the men chuckles to himself. He’s got long blonde hair and he looks like something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. The man by his side is shorter but looks just as strange with a bushy mustache resting upon his face. Mustache man reaches to pull out his gun, but Tim Burton character stops him.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Simon, don’t you think the boss would like to take a look at her?” So mustache man is Simon, which means Tim Burton character must be Dwight.

“Yeah, we need all the brownie points we can get” Simon snorts as he steps forward grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you out of the stall. You bite back a groan as a surge of pain shoots through your side. The men don’t seem to care.

“Oh come on, you pussy, there are doctors where we’re taking you. You’ll be fine,” Dwight says, but for some reason, his words aren’t exactly the most reassuring thing in the world. You stumble along, remaining in Simon’s grip the whole time. Once you get outside, he flings you carelessly into the back of their truck and once again, you can’t help but slip into a blood loss-induced sleep.

~~~

You awake with a start, shooting up in what appears to be a hospital bed? That doesn’t make sense. You look from left to right frantically, trying to gather your bearings. Then the events of the past 5 hours hit you like a load of bricks and you lie back down slowly, pulling at your arms that you now realize are cuffed to the side of the bed.

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living” calls a voice from the other side of the room. The irony of this statement isn’t lost on you. “Now I’m sure you’re confused as to where you are, what’s going on, so on and so forth. Answers will come soon enough, my dear. All you need to know now is that you are alive and you will continue to be so if we change your bandage routinely” You glance down at where your bra was once your lifeline. It has been replaced with a real bandage and what you assume to be a few stitches underneath.

“I... uh… thank you?” you stutter out, breathlessly, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

“You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” he says almost wistfully, coming in closer to inspect your face, brushing a few locks out of your line of vision. “There aren’t many of you left in this world, especially not here”

“Where is here?” you press on cautiously

“Your new home” he answers. Well, that’s not vague, you think to yourself. You shake your arm, rattling the cuffs.

“A little help here, maybe?” you ask, a small shimmer of hope still in your voice despite your meek circumstances.

“I would if I could, but I’m not the one calling the shots”

“Who is?”

“Negan” and with that, the strange man walks out the door.

~~~

After a few weeks, well, to be honest, you weren’t sure how long it had been. After what felt like a few weeks of living out of the hospital room via the doctor, you’ve finally regained almost all functionality the bullet took away from you. The doctor walks in and gives you a smile, that looks partially like a grimace. You wonder what’s up.

“So it seems you've recovered enough to meet the man upstairs,” the doctor says, almost cynically. After all this time, you’d actually grown rather close with him, being your only human interaction and all. Of course, you were annoyed that you were being held against your will, but in all reality, you couldn't complain. You were being fed well and regularly, but you also couldn't help but be extremely curious as to why this group took you under their wing when you had nothing to offer in return. You snort and think to yourself, this must be what Stockholm Syndrome feels like.

All the alone time you had left you only with your thoughts. You couldn’t help the anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up inside you whenever you thought about how your so-called friends left you for dead. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding, right? Well, whether that be the case or not, it doesn’t change the fact that they left you and didn’t even check back up to see if you survived. If they don’t need you anymore, you don’t need them.

“Ahhh, so I finally get to meet the infamous Negan?” you ask, but before the doctor has a chance to respond, the door flies open and a booming voice echoes throughout the room.

“Now is the (y/n) that I’ve been hearing so much about? Let me tell you, you are, in fact, just as stunning as I’ve heard” you were too flustered to respond. There’s something… off about this guy, you think to yourself. Something that may be contributing to that feeling is the large baseball bat he’s carrying that’s covered in what appears to be… barbed wire? What the fuck? “What? Cat got your tongue?” he asks, encouraging you to speak up. You swallow the lump in your throat and try your best to sound confident.

“No, it’s just finally nice to meet the man behind the madness. I mean that in the best way possible, of course” you laugh, backpedaling from a statement that could be perceived negatively. “I really appreciate you taking me in and all, I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you,” you say, humble in front of this man who basically prevented your death, multiple times. He was intimidating, yes, but that isn’t to say he’s not surprisingly attractive.

“I could think of one or two ways,” he says, raising his eyebrows, leaning in, and winking at you. You can feel a blush rise upon your cheeks. Really? This man is hitting on you? He could have anyone in this camp, being the leader and all, and he’s coming on you? Something doesn’t add up. You really want to know where this is going, so you decide to play along.

“Ohh, and how’s that?” you say, in your best seductive voice, although it might be a little rusty from underuse considering it’s only the motherfucking apocalypse and all. You don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into, but getting in close with the leader is never a bad thing, is it? Negan whips around and points the bat at the doctor.

“Would you give us a minute alone please?” Enunciating every syllable, as if his life depends on it.

While he phrased it as a question, you were getting the vibe that it was more of a direct order. The doctor doesn’t have to be asked twice, he nods to you and removes himself from the room. This man has a clear aura of authority, what he says goes. You make a note of this before speaking to him again. He turns back around and his eyes wander up and down your body.

“Now, by this point, I’m sure you’re aware that I find you exceptionally beautiful, so I have a proposition for you. How would you like to be my wife?” At this incredibly blunt statement, your eyes widen and you choke on your words, the previous confidence you built up completely gone. “Oh, it’s a good deal, I promise. I’m hot shit around here, so I could get you practically anything you want. Plus… you’ve got access to all the alcohol you could ever want” He was right, that’s not exactly a bad deal. I mean, hell, what’s your alternative? You’re not sure, but you’re sure it’s not as pleasant.

“I… I would be honored,” you say, confused and, to be honest, a little awestruck.

“Well that’s just fanfuckingtastic,” Negan says, a shit-eating grin glowing on his face. He steps over to help you up out of the hospital bed. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I can show you around, and we can get you dressed” He walks you out into the hallway and up the stairs. You look over the ledge at the large room below you. There are people who appear to be working, all dressed in rags, looking miserable. Yeah, you definitely picked the long stick.

As Negan walked through the halls people, his men, you assume, would kneel and avert their eyes. That’s when it really set in, how much power this man has. You can��t fuck this up, you don’t get the feeling he’s a very merciful guy. Finally, at the top of a winding staircase, you reach Negan’s room. The minute you step in, you understand. The room is filled with 12ish absolutely stunning women in black, sleek dresses.

“What? You didn’t think you were the only beautiful girl left in this shithole of a world, did you?” Negan asks, wryly. A brunette girl sitting on the couch throws you a sympathetic look. “Follow me, let’s get you into your dress”

~~~

You emerge back into the room with the other girls, looking gorgeous, as Negan has told you. Multiple times. He certainly is quite the flirt, you think to yourself.

“Now ladies, I’d like you all to give your newest sister, (y/n), a warm welcome. I’ll be back tonight” he says and with a wink and a slap of your ass, he’s gone. You stand frozen, like a deer in headlights, extremely confused about the events of the last hour. The girl from the couch seems to catch wind of this and she walks over to you.

“Hey,” she says in a soft voice “Do you wanna come sit with me? My name’s Ariel. I might be able to answer some questions or help you get settled in, whatever you’d like” her eyes are soft and movements gentle. You give a faint nod and follow her back to the couch. She pours you a glass of red wine and takes a seat. “Welcome to Negan’s man cave,” she says, disdain evident in her voice. The two of you chat for a while. She talks you through the ins and outs of being one of Negan’s wives. Sex whenever he wants and you can’t have any sort of relationship with another man, Negan gets very jealous very easily. That’s not a side of him you particularly want to see, so you can live with that. In return, you get food, shelter, and safety. This is the first time you’ve had that since, well, before the apocalypse. To survive in this world, it looks like you’re just gonna have to suck it up because you could be starving to death right now.

~~~

You live on like that for a while. Your weekly…. meetings with Negan have been constantly growing in frequency. From what you can tell, he really really likes you. He’s started bringing you downstairs and out of the mancave to come with him as he strolls around The Sanctuary because he “just likes your company, (y/n)” You’ve gotten used to his authority at this point, and it almost… turns you on? You try not to think about it too much. You’re safe and content with the turn your life has taken and that’s all that matters. Sure, you think about your old group a lot. You miss Tara, Michonne, Maggie, Carl, Carol. You miss everyone. Especially Daryl. You two had shared your first kiss the week prior to your split from the group. It’s something that has been budding since Atlanta, but you had just now gained the confidence necessary in order to make the first move. You loved him, you really did. They were your family for 7 years, but they left you. That was their decision, and if they don’t need you, why burden them with your presence? You groan and roll your eyes. You’ve gotten too far in your own head again. Where’s Negan? He’ll definitely distract you in one way or another. You’ve reached the point of familiarity around The Sanctuary where all of its guards and men know you. They know to give you whatever you want or let you go where ever you want, or there will be hell to pay.

You walk around The Sanctuary for a while, Negan nowhere in sight. Eventually, you decide to check out front. You make your way past the front door guards. With a curt nod, they step back and let you take your leave. Just as you’re walking down the steps you hear a voice and turn around.

“Oh, uh, (y/n), Negan is out by the driveway packing the truck for his next pick up. If that’s who you’re looking for, that is.” the guard offers with a smile.

“It is, thank you so much,” you say “I’ve been looking for him forever, I really appreciate the help” Is he… blushing? Wow, you must have a lot more influence around here than you thought. You continue on your way, smiling softly. You see Negan in the distance, Lucille slung over his shoulder, he saunters around like he owns the place, and well, he does. His eyes eventually drift over to you.

“Ahh, (y/n), my favorite little girl! It is so good to see you right now” he comes over to you, kissing you softly on the cheek. “You know what? I’m sick of dealing with all of these men on my own, how’d you like to come on this run with me? No pressure, but I’d sure love to have you along for the ride” It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, plus, you’re always curious about that Negan does on all of these mysterious outings. Guess it’s your turn to find out.

~~~

After around an hour-long drive, the trail of trucks finally comes to a halt. You look out the window and see what appears to be a camp, and of decent size too. Why are the saviors here? You’re completely oblivious to the absolute hell that these people have been subjected to by the hands of your people, but you were about to find out.

“Negan, where are we?” You ask, looking around with a curious look in your eyes.

“All in good time, my love,” He says and steps out of the truck, offering you his hand to assist your descent. You take it and follow him through the gates. There’s a group of 5 men out to meet the saviors, but the rest of the streets are completely dead. You furrow your eyebrows and glance up at Negan. He gives you a smile and turns to deal with the men before him.

“Ah, so I see when I say give me half of your shit, you actually expect my men to go in and get it, because sure as fuck don’t see half of your shit waiting for me” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and is met only with silence and averted eyes. “Now that would really be going the extra mile, but if you want these brutes rifling through your shit, fine by me” He throws the five a wicked grin and waves his hand, signaling his men to begin searching. So, Negan’s power extends beyond The Sanctuary, apparently. Negan grabs your hand and pulls you over to the side.

“Any questions?” He asks, voice genuine.

“I just, is this where we get all of our stuff? Just… taking it from other groups?” You ask

“Well of course not, darling. You don’t think we actually need this worthless shit, do you?” you shrug, he chuckles softly. “All I’m really doing here is flexing. Showing these people who’s boss” you hum in understanding and he plants a kiss on your forehead before walking away to check on his men's progress.

You wander back over to the trucks and avoid contact with anyone who isn’t from The Sanctuary. This other camp, The Orchard, you believe it’s called, didn’t do anything to deserve Negan’s wrath. You’re sure of it. Negan is good to you, that’s for certain, but you can’t seem to ditch this feeling in the pit of your stomach that this, all of it, is just wrong. But then again, it’s your life. You don’t really have any choice except to embrace it, and shove down all of your doubts, however reasonable they may be.

~~~

It’s been months and you’ve tried to expose yourself to Negan’s excursions as much as possible in an attempt to become numb. Now, you can’t exactly guarantee how successful your efforts have been, but the thought is there. So, when Negan asks you if you want to tag along today, you go willingly, even though it’s practically dusk. After a 30ish minute drive, the trucks pull over and you look out the window, confused. There’s no gate or fence or community anywhere. You step out of the truck and walk around.

The minute your eyes reach the group completely at Negan’s mercy, your heart drops. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. There they are. Your old family. You’re completely frozen. Negan hops out of the truck, as usual. Your palms begin to sweat. He walks around the truck to open the door for you. You still can’t move. You’re just staring at them. All of them. They look… horrible. You’re not used to this. Not at all. They were all so strong. Negan, you think. Negan must have done this to them. Looking at them, with their heads down, completely at the mercy of these tens of men with guns. Lots and lots of guns.

“Come on, hon,” Negan says, offering you his hand. You snap out of your daze and tentatively take his hand. Just like usual. But. This isn’t just like usual.

Members of Rick’s group begin to look up, all seeming to have a similar reaction to you. Utter disbelief. Your eyes skim the row. Carl and Rick and Maggie and… your breath stops in your throat. Daryl. He’s cowering down, shawl wrapped around his shoulders. He is not okay. You swallow down a lump and take a few steps forwards.

“(Y/N)...?” a soft voice calls out. Your eyes shoot to the origin. Glenn. It was Glenn. His eyes are wide, a mixture of relief and betrayal rest clearly upon his face. “You’re… you’re alive?” He asks, incredulously.

“(Y/N)” Negan shouts. “You know these assholes?”

“I… They…” You stutter, mind reeling to find an acceptable answer that won’t piss him off. “Remember when Simon and Dwight found me in that gas station? With the bullet wound? Well. That was courtesy of these guys” You gesture wildly at the line. “I rode with them before ya’ll saved me,” You say, emphasizing the last two words, knowing it had to have stung Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. But, looking back on the past year or so in The Sanctuary, you can’t very much bring yourself to care.

But there it is again. That creeping sensation of… what? Loyalty? You’ve been trying to shove it back into whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of, but it’s absolutely ruthless. Memories keep unwillingly flooding back to your mind. When you had each other’s backs. When you were a family. Family. You don’t notice you’ve begun to cry until you taste the salt gathering at the corners of your mouth. You’ve known that the power Negan holds is wrong for so long, and you’ve been ignoring it out of self-preservation. But it’s more than that now. It’s them. It’s your family. You snap out of your trance and glance back over to Negan, pacing in front of the line, sadistically twirling Lucille. That’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Negan, stop” You shout, the strength in your voice surprising even yourself. His eyebrows shoot up and he turns on his heel. He seems to be taken aback, which, clearly doesn’t happen very often to a man of his standing. You know you can’t show any weakness now. There’s no going back. You look from Negan to those kneeling, looking back up at you with hopeful eyes. That solidifies what you’re about to say. That makes everything worth it. “Negan. This isn’t right. This is… this is…” you struggle to find the right word. “Evil. This is evil. And. I know you. I know you can be gentle. You can be generous. But. You can also be evil. These people,” you say, glancing over at the group. “These people are good. They don’t deserve what you” you stop yourself, “what we are putting on them. We can survive without, whatever this is. This cruelty.” You say, looking him in the eye the entire time. He’s frozen. You’ve never seen him like this before. You understood that you meant something to him, you were his favorite, maybe the best fuck. But, if you had the power to silence him, maybe you had more influence and control than you realized initially. Finally, after a long pause, he speaks up.

“(Y/N), you know how it works. You know I can’t let these people go, what would that say about me? What happened to my badass bitch?” He looks at you, wanting to appear strong in front of his men, but only you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. You walk up to him, only inches apart now.

“Negan. Please. Anyone but them, just, anyone but them” your voice soft but firm. You look up into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious you are. He closes his eyes and swallows. He didn’t reject it immediately, so, that’s a good sign. He looks at his feet. “If you hurt them. I’m leaving. You can kill me, I don’t care, but I cannot be anywhere near the man who killed my friends. The man who killed my family” You make eye contact with Daryl when speaking the last word. His eyes haven’t left you since you began to speak. He still means everything to you, despite how much you tried to deny it. “You do this. You lose me. That’s how it’s gonna be” You’ve never seen Negan look more conflicted in your few years with him than at this moment. You’re hoping that throughout the time you spent together that you got into his head. At least enough to save everyone. Negan regains his composure and turns to his men.

“Hey. Get the hell outta here and give us a minute, will ya?” he orders and nobody has to be asked twice. While everyone gathers behind the trucks, Negan takes your hand and walks you over to the treeline. A part of you is worried, is he going to punish you like you’ve seen him do to so many others? Any sense of fear is immediately gone when he puts his forehead to yours, caressing your cheek. His eyes are shut, and he appears, almost, vulnerable?

“Negan, I…” you start but are cut off by his piercing gaze.

“It’s okay. I… Damn, girl. I really care about you. And ain’t you go around telling nobody I said that. But. If it would make you happy, you can. You can go with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t gonna be leaving them alone. But. I won’t kill them either” Negan turns away and you’re completely blown away. You were expecting a fight. This man is evil. But. You’re attached. What that says about you, you don’t know. You step forward and hug him from behind, interlocking your fingers and resting your head upon his shoulder.

“Thank you” you whisper, barely audible. “You saved me. And I’ll never forget you” he turns around and falls into your arms, his head burrowed in the crook of your neck.

~~~

The last truck disappears from view and you turn around. You’re alone now. And it’s so much harder than it was before. Before you could hide behind the guns and the men and you could hide behind Negan. But now? Now you’re alone, and you’re looking at your past head-on. You’re terrified. Will they take you back? Or turn their back on you like they did so long ago. You glance from everyone back to the ground.

“Um… well… hi guys?” you stammer out “Long time no see?” you flinch. Long time no see? Really? That’s your opening line? Everyone is frozen. That’s it. You assume it’s over. You close your eyes and clench your fists. You begin to turn around when you hear ruffling to your left. Your eyes shoot to the source. It’s Daryl. He’s grabbing his side in pain, but he’s standing nonetheless. He limps towards you with a sense of urgency and he reaches you with his arms wide open. You embrace, and it’s like everything in the world that was ever wrong is now right. He’s got all of his weight on you, entrusting you with all of his being. Everything isn’t going to be immediately okay again, you know this. But right now? Everything is perfect.

“I fucking missed you, baby girl” he spits out, gruffly. All you can do is hug tighter, amazed that you went so long without the most important thing in your life.

“We all missed you,” Rick says, from the side. You look over and see everyone either nod or hum in agreement. Tears begin to fog your vision. Finally. Finally, you aren’t settling. Finally, you’re happy. Finally, you’re home.

***

This was the first fic I ever wrote back in 2017. God. Wild. Time is absolutely fake. Anyway!

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3

#the walking dead #walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead reader insert #twd reader insert #daryl dixon reader insert #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon x you #negan x reader #negan/reader #negan/you #negan x you

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sidespromptblog · 6 years ago

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Self: Part 1

Warning: Dysphoria, Trans Deceit (MTF), Hurt/Comfort, and Sympathetic Deceit.

Summary: There are times when Deceit feels free, free to be himself or to not be himself at all.

Standing in front of the mirror that took up a good section of his wall, the fabric of a lengthy skirt flowed back and forth as it was pinched between two fingers that were painted black. A lazy almost serene smile darted over Deceit’s face as he looked at his own reflection, the smooth and silky shirt brushed against his legs in a most relaxing way earning a smile that honestly had felt so damn hard to put up anywhere else. Being here among his room, where he knew that no one else could see him, his dress up games, or the patches of scales he allowed the dim lighting and cool air of his room to finally touch. A place filled sigh swept through him as his eyes drifted shut for a moment, he could imagine it, never taking the skirt of, or in fact, taking the skirt off in order to replace it with one of his pretty sundresses that would just barely graze his knees.

“That would be nice...wouldn’t it?” He asked his reflection, as he released the fabric of his skirt letting the hem of the fabric fall against his ankles as he took a single step forward. His movements were slow, sluggish even as he rested his forehead against the mirror, the cold glass felt blissful against his warm skin. His stomach churned, “That would be nice.” He whispered again his bottom lip wobbling just for a second, before he captured it between his teeth holding it and his feelings captive for the time being.

Opening his eyes, he could already see it. A lovely flowery hat to keep the sun out of his face, black lipstick smeared to perfection along his bottom and upper lip, emerald green eye shadow that wonderfully accented his scales, and… And a wonderful open back sundress, letting his scales breath, all while allowing him to feel free.

For once.

His stomach churned again, and Deceit pulled away from the mirror, the wish he so desperately wanted to act on no more than a million lightyears away. There was no way it could ever happen, there was no way he could leave his room looking like that...looking like her. He might be Deceit, but even he had to accept some truths in his life, and this was one of them.

“I am not a her,” He sternly told his reflection, and the image grimaced with him after the sour lie left his lips, “They will not accept me, I cannot leave this room looking like this. I’m fine with pretending, it is what I do best. I am Deceit. I am Deceit. I am…” Another grimace as lies filled his mouth and throat, he wanted to choke on them, to not answer the awful churning in his stomach, to ignore the summons. But it would only bring more trouble in the end, that much he knew for certain. The others already suspected enough out of him, if he kept them waiting...it would only make Virg...no Anxiety more wary about his whereabouts.

So it was time to go.

The skirt came off in a flurry, and Deceit’s teeth ground together as he took a deep breath. Looking down at the normal looking black slacks he felt a hatred stirring inside of him, a bitterness that made him want to throw caution to the wind, to say screw it and just wear what he felt most comfortable with. But even he knew that he couldn’t do such a thing, it would be foolish even for him. None of the other sides wore dresses, none of them dressed in skirts, or wore makeup. He’d be a freak to them, or...at least more than he already was. They would turn on him in an instant.

The weight of the cloak on his shoulders felt like cinderblocks in compared to the constrained feeling of the pants around his legs. He wanted to crumple to the ground, to weep and sob, to..to beg for the relief.. The freedom of the skirt he had just worn moments ago.

But he couldn’t.

Sucking up every bit of emotion that tumbled around inside of him like a cyclone tearing up a trailer park, Deceit slipped his hat back into place with a heavily burdened sigh as his shoulders unconsciously sagged. “Here we go,” He plainly muttered barely a hint of disdain in his voice, and standing before his door his fingers just barely resting on the doorknob, he sank down with a sluggish and tired movement, time to put the mask back on and play the part he was born to play. As much as he hated it so, it did need to be done.

It was only upon arriving at the scene, that Deceit couldn’t have possibly regretted showing up any more than he already did. It wasn’t to say that things didn’t look bad, it was just that judging from the worn down, or rather downright exhausted looking sides it was very clear that not only was something wrong, but he had been summoned to somehow fix it. From Roman’s bedraggled appearance, the consistent frown that marred Patton’s tearstained face, Logan’s bone-weary appearance that gave him the look of someone who had been holding the world, Virgil who..honestly looked even more like a raccoon at this point just mere seconds away from breathing fire, and then there was Thomas.

Dear Thomas, who ran his fingers through his hair again and again as the dark circles under his eyes truly let on how little sleep he was getting. As well as the massive duvet that was draped over his shoulders, observing everything below his neck from view. It puzzled him honestly, as his eyebrows scrunched together in clear befuddlement. Just what was going on here, and...why exactly was he being called here in the first place? It was no secret that they hated him, no matter how much Patton had attempted to integrate him into the family, they hated him. That’s all there was to it, he wasn’t allowed around Thomas, much less Virgil, so…

“Why am I not in my bedroom?” The jumbled up mixture of words left his mouth in a heaping mess as his heterochromic eyes darted around, from each worn down side, lingering just a moment before his eyes eventually trailed on over to their host. But even then he couldn’t meet Thomas’ gaze, instead, he allowed his eyes to sink to the very bottom of the blanket that was draped like a cape around Thomas’ shoulders.

It took no time at all for the snarl to curl along Virgil’s lips as he took a single step forward, just to almost immediately be halted by Logan’s hand resting on his shoulder. “I don’t know Deceit, you certainly took your time getting here. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on? What have you been doing when we aren’t around? What schemes are you up to? What freakish-”

Virgil’s harsh biting words dissolved away like a mist inside Deceit’s brain as fear clenched its frozen fist over his heart and squeezed tight as soon as the other sides’ eyes all locked onto him, they were all waiting for an answer, something to tell them that he was either guilty or...well there was no other alternative to it. He would always be guilty in their eyes, wouldn’t he? He would have always done something wrong, be it showing up a little bit too late for a video, something going wrong with Thomas..or just anything in their life really. He would always do something wrong.

There was no escape..

No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape!

The fabric of his pants felt as it was strangling his lower body, twisting him and pulling him down into an ocean of fear, all while the weight of his cloak bore down on him more and more just waiting for him to bend and break under the weight. His clothing screamed at him, shrieking in his ears like the banshees of the night, taunting and harassing him as it seized him so tightly that it hurt his lungs to breathe. There was no escape, none and he would never get away from hi-

“Virgil! That’s enough!”

Deceit’s shoulders broke away from the tight grip that had held his shoulders captive as he struggled to breath in a single lungful of air. The word blurred and spun around him as Logan forced himself between the anxious side and Deceit, blinking rapidly the fog before him cleared and both Logan and Virgil’s worry filled face came into view. Their own exhaustion seemed to pale in comparison to the downright terror scrawled over their faces and in their eyes. And even so, it certainly didn’t stop Virgil from pressing against the logical side, attempting to get past him even now.

“He wasn’t breathing Logan,” Virgil hissed, a pure sense of desperation filling his words as Deceit stumbled back away from him, away from all of them as soon as Patton moved to touch his shoulder. The shoulder that still ached from Virgil’s impossibly tight grip, and from where the other side had tried to shake the life back into him when it appeared that he had truly died before their very eyes. “He was having a panic attack, I needed to snap him out of it before...before…” Deceit retreated backward yet again, as his face took on an unhealthy pale hue his back thumped solidly against the blinds where Patton most often stood.

His expression said it all, as his fists clenched and unclenched in tandem with his grinding teeth, silence filled the air between them before his gaze snapped back down to his hands. For a split solid second his tongue caught in his throat, where he had expected to see plain yellow gloves hiding his hands, hiding away the evidence of what had he had been doing in the safety of his room there was the glimmer of his nail polish on his fingernails looking back at him in the lighting of the living room. Fear curled in his throat like the sickly sensation of vomit rising back up.

In that very moment, as he looked back at the others he saw the truth on their faces as their eyes followed his own line of sight towards the damning evidence, and in that very moment as his mind whispered to him but one word and one word only. The very word that made his hat topple off of his head, as he ducked down before Patton could think to reach out, hell before Roman could even think to lunge forward and stop him. His inner voice told him but one thing.

Run.

And in that very moment, he was not Deceit, but rather Self-Preservation.

Tagged:

@5am-the-foxing-hour

@th3okamid3mon

@icecoldparadise

#ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #trans deceit #mtf deceit #dysphoria

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widobravely · 6 years ago

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let me make it abundantly clear: i love the mighty nein. i am obsessed with the mighty nein. i would die for these idiots.

but::: oh my god, what happens if one by one the original mighty nein start leaving the party and getting replaced by new, or oneshot characters?

if nott leaves, who replaces her? prevailing and fury-inducing headcanon is: taryon darrington. but also just last night i had a great discussion re: sam's possible new character and the main point was: whoever this new character is, it's going to be someone indelibly linked to liam and laura's new characters, because:

if nott perma-leaves, caleb and jester go with her. they just straight up go with her to alfield. so liam and laura roll new characters. and because they don't want sam riegel pulling more secret family and love interests out of his ass, they bribe matthew mercer into telling them sam's new character's backstory. oh, the npc spouse sam made up? surprise, that's liam's new character now. oh, your character had a kid? bam, laura is playing a child!

taliesen already has caduceus,,, pls don't kill him again ,,, soft fuzzy cow man,,, must protect

ashley johnson? man, imagine her playing zuala. turns out BAM she wasn't dead all this time, she's been desperately searching for her missing wife. except wife's dead now. for real dead. oh no.jpeg

if fjord dies or leaves, i will rock the heavens begging and praying for travis willingham to play laurence lorelei from liam's song of the lorelei game. he's a werewolf! he's a snob!! travis can go fucking feral with all the roaring and it's all great!! and then he gets huffy because someone ripped his books up for toilet paper!! i stan laurence lorelei i love him so much

marisha plays rhinestone from crash pandas. that's it that's the character. how did a half raccoon half skunk turn into an actual playable real campaign character?? i don't have a fjucking clue but :: marisha ray reprising rhinestone. chef's kiss

#critical role #mighty nein #song of the lorelei #crash pandas #im real sleepy yall good night

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rainythefox · 6 years ago

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Nightfall (Resident Evil WeskerxClaire fanfiction, CH3)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can't call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can't tell Chris. She is trapped...ClairexWesker. Slight ChrisxJill. (An old FF.Net multi-chapter fic of mine that I’m revising and publishing to AO3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794784/chapters/41982563 (Chapters 1-3 are up, Chapter 4 coming soon)

Chapter 3: Blood in the Snow

Chris glared at the two women. Their giggles sounded roughly at the same time, grins wide on their pretty faces. Luckily, the Christmas music drowned their laughter out where other people couldn’t hear them as Chris held on for dear life.

"I fail to see what’s so amusing!"

Jill tugged on Chris’s arm. "Chris, it's just ice skating!"

"Yeah…it's skating, you know…on ice!"

Chris's legs wobbled and slid on the ice as he held onto the railing of the ice skating rink. Claire stood graciously next to Jill on the ice in her skates, arms crossed and breaths coming out in puffs. And even Jill had the audacity to stand on one leg so she could fix the tongue of her skate. The rink was moderately full with people ice skating, but not near as what it usually was. There was plenty of room to skate around; meaning Chris had plenty of room to crash.

The Christmas lights casted a magical glow around the trio. The snow glowed under their aura as music played in the park. The smell of food from nearby food vendors lofted in the air. It was the closest thing they were going to get to a Winter Wonderland in the middle of Raccoon City.

"The guys will never let me live this down if they see me doing this!" Chris huffed. "How the hell did you two talk me into this?"

"Because," Jill stated, looking over her pitiful partner as he was glued to the rail. "You said you’d ice skate with us if we went over to Barry's house with the guys to watch the football game."

Claire folded her arms with a smirk. "Which we would have gone anyways.”

"Don't be such a baby, Chris!” Jill’s attempts at pulling Chris away were futile. He wasn’t budging. “Look, I know you have more balance than that!"

Claire elbowed Jill, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. Chris looked between them with a warning glare, immediately suspicious of their mischievous grins as they whispered. His fingers dug into the railing even harder, if that was even possible.

"Don't even think about it!"

Claire and Jill grabbed Chris and worked together to tear him away from the railing. They pushed him towards the middle of the skating rink. Chris looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, arms out and waving and legs slipping and sliding as he fought for balance, desperate gasps and profanities spewing from his mouth. Claire and Jill cackled at the sight, skating out towards him. Finally, Chris was able to get a grip on his balance and worked at getting himself to go forward without face planting first into the ground.

"Whoo! I'm doing it!" He sounded like a gleeful child.

"They grow up so fast," Jill joked.

Claire and Jill skated behind Chris as he practiced and tried not to crash. Raccoon City Park was full of excitement and good spirits under the starry sky. Outside of the rink, kids made snowmen and snow angels with their parents. There were even a few families decking it out with a snowball fight.

Claire thoughtfully looked over at Jill. "So…I was supposed to be sneaky about this, but I know it won't do any good. I’m just gonna be upfront. Chris is going crazy trying to find you a Christmas gift. Is there something you want he can get you so he’ll shut up?"

Jill laughed, shaking her head. "He doesn't have to get me anything."

Her smile, though amused, shaped more into an affectionate up-curve of her lips. Her cheeks had been rosy from the cold, but now they seemed extra-rosy to Claire.

"Oh, but he does…badly. Please, you gotta help me or I’ll have to deal with his whining the whole time I’m here visiting."

Jill was quiet, and Claire hoped she was thinking of something. "Well, how about something practical like a new toaster?"

Claire gave her an unamused glare. "C’mon Jill, a toaster? Really? Who wants a toaster for Christmas?"

Jill shrugged. "I really wouldn't want Chris spending any kind of money on me."

"Oh, how about that really nice sofa back in that store we checked out earlier? That would actually look really nice in your living room."

"No way! That thing was like $500!"

"Yeah, you’re right." Claire sighed, thinking. "Hmm…how about a hat? You like hats!"

"A hat sound simple, cheap, and easy. I'm all for it!"

Claire was relieved. "Glad that's over with! So, do you need my help deciding what you’re getting Chris?"

Jill waved her off. "Nah, I ordered his nearly two months ago."

"What? Really? What is it?"

"Well, I went to Robert Kendo's gun shop and had him customize a brand new issue Samurai Edge with a steel slide and a silver-glided trigger just for Chris. It’s a one-of-a-kind gun, made just for Chris. He had one, but it got blown up, and that fucker Irons wouldn’t pay for a replacement."

Claire gave a baffled look. "Blown…up?"

"Don’t ask. Long story. Basically, while dealing with a terrorist, one of the STARS vehicles got blown up with Chris’s gun inside. Everything turned out good in the end, but he sure was upset that his Samurai Edge was destroyed. It was the gun he won that last marksmanship trophy with. He's been using an old Glock instead for awhile."

"Wow, he never told me about that. How much did that cost?"

Jill looked away, mumbling. "Oh, not important."

"Jill!"

"Alright! It cost $780."

Claire’s jaw fell agape and then she glared at her friend. "I'm totally telling him to buy you that sofa and a hat…and a toaster."

"You better not! Don't tell him the gun cost that much. I'm gonna lie and say that Wesker convinced Irons to issue him a new one."

"And what if Chris asks Wesker for that story?"

Jill bit her lip. "I…uhh…I'll tell Wesker to go along with it! Besides, Chris wouldn't dare ask the Captain for the truth!"

"Maybe so," Claire said. "But if you do that, then Chris wouldn’t know it was a Christmas gift from you. He would think it was a Christmas gift from Wesker…sort of."

Jill slumped her shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. I suck at coming up with stories."

"I won't say anything about the gun, but you should really tell him the truth when you give it to him. He deserves to know it’s really from you. And, just so we’re clear, don't be surprised if Chris buys you something just as expensive."

Jill heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine."

"Hey, kiddo!” Chris hollered. “Check this out!"

He was skating on one foot, grinning and proud of himself.

Claire covered her forehead, groaning. "He called me a kiddo…how embarrassing.”

Jill cupped her hands over her mouth, her breath coming out in white puffs. "Pretty soon you'll be an ice skating champ, Christopher!"

"Don't call me that!"

Jill shook her head. "Why does he hate being called Christopher so much?"

"I have no idea."

Chris yelped, and a crash followed. They saw Chris slowly sliding across the ice on his stomach, arms and legs spread out. Claire and Jill skated over to him while laughing and helped him to his feet.

"I think that’s enough ice skating for one day," Chris said, feeling his lip with a finger. "I think I bit my lip!"

"Alright, we better leave anyways if we’re going to get over to Barry's in time for the game," Claire replied, holding back a laugh.

Barry Burton lived with his family in eastern Raccoon City in a safe, quiet suburban community. They lived in a large, two-story house with a built in garage and large backyard. The Redfields and the Burtons went way back. Claire had known Barry and his wife, Kathy, since she was a little girl. She considered Barry’s two young daughters, Moira and Polly, as her nieces. It was the Burtons who helped look after Claire after her and Chris’s parents died, and he was forced to enlist into the military to take care of Claire. It was Barry who eventually helped Chris get hired on at the RPD as a member of STARS. They considered each other family.

While over watching the football game, they enjoyed the good company and the home-cooked food and drinks. Barry's house was full of snacks, good food, drinks, and off course friends. Claire and Jill were just as into the game as the men were, cheering for their home team. Barry left just long enough to put Moira and Polly to bed for the night. Claire wasn't surprised that a few of their STARS teammates were here to enjoy the game and visit as well. Joseph Frost, Forest Speyer, and Richard Aiken cracked jokes and stuffed their faces while the football game went on. Even Barry’s good friend, Robert Kendo, came over to watch the game and have some drinks.

Afraid they would wake his daughters from their rowdy banter, Barry slapped Joseph with a rolled up newspaper and told them to keep it down. However, when the home team scored their first touchdown, the scolding was forgotten as all men jumped to their feet whooping and cheering, Barry included.

The game lasted a couple of hours, and they rejoiced as their home team won the game, clanking beer bottles together. They helped the Burtons clean up for a short time before departing for home.

By the time Chris and Claire got to Chris's house, she was beat. She had cheered just as much as the men, and probably ate just as much too.

The Redfield siblings weren’t home long before going to bed. Chris would be returning to work in the morning, and Claire would to have to take him in because Jill’s shift started earlier.

They got up early the following morning to have breakfast downtown before Claire dropped her brother off at the police department. He grabbed the door handle of the truck and turned to her before getting out.

"Be careful if you go anywhere. We’re supposed to get more snow later," Chris informed.

The sun was rising on the icy morning, but dark gray, overcast clouds warned of more winter weather to come.

"Will do. I think I’m gonna hit the hike trails and run a mile or two before going home. I feel fat from all that good food last night."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You women. Can’t you just run at the track in town? That’s kinda far."

"It’s closed, remember? Besides, I like the scenery out there better."

"I dunno, Sis. Anything could happen that far out by yourself. Might get hurt and no one be around to help. Hell, there might be crazies out there right now."

It was Claire's turn to roll her eyes. There were times Chris’s brotherly protectiveness got on her nerves. "Chris,we’ve taken the Arklay Hiking Trails lots of times and never had any problems. If there is anyone out there, which I doubt from the weather, I bet it’ll only be that old couple Mr. and Mrs. Willow and some of those good looking track guys from Raccoon University."

"Good looking track guys? Now wait just a damn minute, I-"

"Oh c'mon, Chris, I was just joking! I knew you would freak out as soon as I mentioned hot guys!”

“Well, just run a mile around my house.”

"I’d look like an idiot running around the house."

"Fine, whatever. Just don’t take too long and please call me when you get home, alright? If I don’t hear from you in a few hours, I’ll come searching. I mean it!”

"Yes, sir!" Claire stated sarcastically and stuck her tongue out at him.

After her brother got out, Claire drove the truck away from downtown Raccoon City and took the main highway out of the city’s limits. Dreary clouds snuffed out the early morning sun. Claire knew it would snow again soon, probably before noon. It was cold and snowy, but Claire felt the jog would do her some good. She had neglected her exercises since arriving to visit Chris on her winter break, and knew it would also be nice to get out of the house and clear her head for awhile.

Claire smiled. Yes, it was a good day for a jog.

The Arklay National Forest was a vast wilderness that surrounded the city with mountains and rivers for miles around. It was a popular tourist attraction within Arklay County. There were several camping and hiking locations throughout the county, but the more popular ones included the Arklay Hiking Trails to the northwest of the city, off Route 6. They explored Arklay Mountains and provided beautiful sightseeing, rock climbing, and breathtaking vistas.

Claire parked the Dodge truck in the parking area of the hiking trails. The small forest center stated the hiking trails were closed due to the weather. Claire had never seen something like that before, as closing the national forest to people seemed far-fetched. She saw other vehicles in the parking lot, so figured the sign was forgotten about from the ice storm a couple weeks ago.

She climbed out, bundling up in her parka and gloves. She wore dark pants and snow boots and a scarf around her neck. The forest around her was quiet, only the soft cracks of snow falling off tree limbs could be heard. Claire took a good look around. The snow had transformed the forest into a winter wonderland. And though Claire was more of an autumn person, she had to admit that the snow made everything seem mystical.

As she walked over to the start of one of the scenic trails, she noticed the other vehicles parked in the lot, just a few slots down from her truck. She was surprised to see them. In this biting cold and snow, only the determined came out here to walk or hike the trails. She didn't recognize them either. The older couple see saw often drove a Ford car, and they also didn't belong to the track guys from the university.

There were three of them parked side by side, and the models surprised Claire. There was a brand new black Jaguar XK8 that caught her eye. Luxury cars weren't uncommon in Raccoon City, thanks to the booming economy and high-paying jobs from corporations like Umbrella. The Jaguar wasn't one of those more commonly seen though. Whoever owned this car had a lot of money. The other two cars were not near as stunning as the Jaguar, but also were high dollar luxury cars. There was a silver BMW M3 sedan, as well as a dark green Mercedes-Benz S320. The cars were mostly clean save for some dirty snow and mud caked up under the fenders.

Well, it looks as though we got some rich buddies going for a stroll. I hope one of them is good looking!

She laughed inwardly at her own joke, shaking her head and moving on. She was sure whomever owned these cars were not her type and were probably much older. Claire picked the trail that she and Chris would go on all the time, wondering how the snow and ice had changed its beautiful scenery from the spring and summer seasons. She pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail and did a few warm up exercises before starting to jog along the trail.

The scenic trail she took was the one of the longer ones, but Claire knew she could always turn back if she started to get too cold. She jogged along the snow-covered path, careful not to slip on any ice. She took in the sights as she followed the trail. Icicles hung from tree branches, thicker branches held snow. The wind whistled as it whipped through the forest, picking up dusts of snow. There was even wildlife nearby. She could see and hear birds as they flew from branch to branch, tweeting and singing. A few squirrels were out, their tails twitching as they chased each other through the trees. A red fox that watched the snow for a mouse saw her and vanished into the woods. Not far from the trail, Claire saw a small herd of deer and stopped to watch them. They ate the bark from the trees, and there were even does with fawns. A buck turned his head towards her, mouth chewing and tail flicking.

I wish I had my camera!

Suddenly, the deer turned and fled deeper into the forest. Disappointed, Claire carried on, but decided to walk for a bit to further enjoy the vibrant wildlife that surrounded her. Her lungs burned from the biting cold and running, and came out in white puffs as she caught her breath. She walked the trail deeper into the mountains, still seeing wildlife here and there.

The deeper she followed the trail, the more it became deathly silent and unmoving. Then it was gone. There was no life whatsoever out here anymore. Even the wind had died down, and so not even the tree limbs groaned or cracked in the distance. Claire's nerves twitched, and she felt a knot growing in her chest. The kind of knot that told her it was time to turn back. Something wasn't right at all, and she suddenly remembered the three cars back at the entrance by her truck.

I should’ve seen somebody by now…

She halted on the path. She looked all around her, that feeling in her chest getting worse. Something bright and red caught her peripheral vision, and Claire looked down onto the snow-covered trail. A few feet away from her was a couple of quarter-sized blood splotches. The sight of the blood itself was enough to make hers curdle. She noticed the other flecks of blood, and even a trail. The dark red spots had melted the snow into a thick syrup-like substance, and were fresh.

Did someone get hurt?

A sharp, pained cry hit her ears and startled her. Her heart jumped to her throat, nerves sizzling as she backed away from the sound. Claire swallowed hard, frozen in place. Her gut urged her to turn back and flee, but she couldn’t just leave without making sure someone wasn’t hurt or dying out here.

The snow crunched quietly below her boots as she followed the blood drops along the path. There were footprints here other than hers, and grooves in the snow that looked like there had been a struggle. Voices carried through the trees, and her breath caught in her throat with a shaky sputter. She went off the path to hide behind a thick, large oak tree. She took a deep breath to steady herself and looked around the trunk into an opening not far off from the trail.

Claire saw a man, maybe in his forties, with graying five o'clock shadow on his knees, wincing in pain. Blood stained his shirt, and his face was welted and bruised. The blood on the trail had to have been his. Claire’s pulse rose as she realized the man's arms were tied behind his back. There were two other men, and they stood in front of him.

One of the men was thin, handsome, and looked to be in his mid-thirties with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and five o'clock shadow. He wore a coat with a white shirt and a sloppily tied tie and dark slacks. Claire didn't recognize him. The other man was one she recognized all too well. Her eyes widened, heart catching in her throat as she recognized Albert Wesker. The leader of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service wore his dark uniform, the same one she saw him wear the other day. He had a handgun aimed at the bleeding man.

What the hell?!

The man beside Wesker rolled his neck, yawning as if he was bored. "C'mon, Finley, we don't have all day."

"Fuck you, William. I'm not telling you two anything!"

“This is a strange spot to board the Ecliptic Express. The train doesn’t stop out here, unless of course you bribed the engineer because you were trying to avoid us.”

“What?! You’re crazy!”

"You had a contract, Mr. Finley. You are obliged to tell us what you know," Wesker said coolly, the gun unwavering near Finley’s face.

The battered man glared at the STARS Captain. "Yeah, I did have a contract. But not to you, Albert! Just because you killed Crawford doesn't mean I have to answer to you."

"Well, that's too bad," William stated, smirking. "I guess that means we’ll have to resort to other measures, isn't that right, Al?"

"You two are fucking insane! I’ve kept up my end of the deal. I didn't do anything!"

"On the contrary," Wesker interrupted. "You informed a different party about the change in the Tyrant Project as well as gave out crucial information on the Golgotha. That is quite a problem you’ve caused for Spencer and Umbrella, and well as for us."

Finley spat blood from his lips. "You have no proof!”

Wesker bashed the pistol across the man’s face and he yelped.

“William and I do not like our time wasted. The longer I have to play pest control, the less desirable your fate will be.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Well, you never were very bright, Fin,” William retorted with a chuckle.

"William, how about we head over to Finley's house to dispose of his family and make him out to be the killer who shot himself?"

"You always come up with the best plans, Al."

"W-Wait, n-no! Not my f-family! I'll tell you everything; just leave my family out of this!"

Wesker purposely put the barrel close to the beaten man’s eye. "Then where are the disks?"

Finley took a deep breath, his body shaking, but Claire doubted it was from the cold. "I-I gave them to S-Steve Morgan."

"Oh, for crying out loud," William groaned. "Steve Morgan? You’re siphoning information to the Ashfords?! I should kill you where you stand!"

"He’s still in town! You can stop him! Besides, you can’t kill me! Spencer won’t allow it! I demand you two to take me to him!"

Wesker lowered the gun, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "Of course, Finley. I won’t go against Spencer.”

"R-Really?" Finley gasped.

William rounded on Wesker with wide eyes. "What?!” Then he suddenly calmed, clearing his throat and smiling. “Ohhh. Right. Sure, Fin. Whatever Al says, goes.”

Finley looked between them, pale and sweaty. “G-Good. Now take me to him.”

Wesker rubbed his chin. “Then again, I hate snitches.”

Finley barely got a plea out before Wesker aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The gunshot pierced through the woods like a cold dagger.

Claire almost screamed when she saw Finley's head explode. The body fell limp to the ground, blood gushing out onto the snow. Claire covered her mouth, not trusting herself to make a noise at the sight. Her breath became shallow gulps, her heartbeats quickening in fear.

William sighed. "You made a mess…again.”

"I'm running late, William. I'll call Sergei and make him send a group out here to clean everything up and dispose of Finley's car."

"Fine. Next time, let's try to move them somewhere a bit more private. I know he was coming back from the express, but someone could’ve been walking the trail, ya know? Not everyone listens to those closed signs."

Wesker shrugged. "We weren't expecting Finley to pull a gun on us, now did we? He was ready for us. It’s why the train stopped out here instead. He knew I killed Crawford and we were coming for him next. This did not go according to plan. He has been in contact with somebody other than Morgan. We should look more into this.”

"Agreed," William replied, kicking Finley's limp leg. "Goddamn rat."

Claire slipped behind the tree again, her heart pounding so fast, it was about to burst from her chest. They were heading back to their cars! There was no way Claire could get back to the truck and leave before they saw her. And she knew Wesker would recognize Chris's truck. She was in a very bad position. She couldn't believe that Wesker, the Captain of the STARS force and one of Raccoon City's Finest, was a dirty cop.

They were talking about something big, she knew. The Umbrella Corporation was one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world, and had actually played a big part in the building of Raccoon City. Besides that, between the pharmacies, facilities, and warehouses, Umbrella gave more than 25,000 jobs for the city alone.

Claire desperately thought on what to do. She couldn't make a run for it without them hearing or seeing her. Wesker obviously had a gun and was not afraid to use it. If she remained in hiding, Wesker would recognize Chris's truck, and would either be back on the trail to hunt her down, or heading back to the police station to confront Chris and possibly lead him into a trap like they did with this poor fellow out here. At this point, Claire had no idea what Wesker was capable of. She always heard that he was one of the most honored and respected men at the RPD, with a prowess like no other. Now it seemed he was a two-faced traitor that used his position in law to his advantage.

"Wait a minute. Look at these shoe prints, Albert!"

Claire froze, the rough bark of the tree digging into her back. She dared not to look around the tree. They sounded right on the other side of it on the trail.

"Woman, size seven and a half. Interesting," Wesker commented.

You've got to be shitting me…

"Alright, little lady, come out! Don't be shy! We know you’re here! We promise we won’t hurt you!" William said, his tone friendly and comforting, but Claire knew better. She then heard him whisper to Wesker. "I knew this was a bad idea! We're going to get caught! I blame this on you!"

"Shh!" Wesker hissed.

They went silent, further antagonizing Claire. She was so terrified, she felt she had frozen herself with the tree and become one with it. Her mind ran a million miles a second, trying to come up with a plan, and fast.

"The footsteps go towards that tree. Stay here," Wesker said.

William scoffed. “Psh! Yeah, better you than me!”

SHIT!

Claire could hear his footsteps heading in her direction off of the trail. She looked down, hoping to God she could find something to use as a weapon against the both of them and escape. All she saw near her feet was a rock twice the size of her fist. She bent over to grab it up, making not even a peep. She struggled to keep her throat from letting a cry out. Why did she have to leave her gun and knife in the truck? Chris always told her to carry them, and the one time she didn’t, she needed them.

Wesker’s footsteps neared the tree, and so she braced herself. Maybe if she was able to knock Wesker out and take his gun, she would be able to get away. William didn't seem much of a threat, but Claire didn't want to take any chances.

As Wesker came around the tree, Claire swung the rock. Wesker barely evaded it, his reflexes quick and nimble. He grabbed her arm, twisting it around her back and slamming her into the tree. It made her drop the rock. Claire yelped, fighting his hold, but he tightened his grip, threatening to break it, and she gave in with a cry.

"Well, well, well, this is quite a small world. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Redfield?" Wesker greeted, sounding amused as he let her arm go.

Claire turned around with a glare. She tried to push past him, but Wesker shoved her back into the tree and held her there. It didn't take long before William came around to where they were.

"You two know each other?"

"Chris Redfield's younger sister. He’s a member of STARS," Wesker answered simply. Those sunglasses focused on Claire once more, and his grip tightened on her shirt just above her breasts as he kept her in place. He used his free hand to take of his sunglasses, pocketing them. A dark smirk formed on Wesker's lips, his gray-blue eyes piercing her and making Claire's bones freeze. "You better have a good explanation for this, dear heart. I'm just dying to know why you are here."

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