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simpforboys · 3 years ago

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custom battle

she/her pronouns

summary: y/n and vinnie goof around when they go in a custom battle on valorant against each other

warnings: fluff, swearing

“when are we getting on with everyone?” y/n asked, playing with vinnie's hair as they laid on his bed.

vinnie pulled her tighter against him, putting his face into her neck and giving it a small kiss.

“what if i just kiss you all over instead of playing?” he whispered.

“you do that anyways,” y/n smiled, wrapping her arms fully around his neck as he moved to lay on her.

hera stretched, being woken up by vinnie's movement. “you woke the baby,” y/n frowned, petting hera on the tail.

“you woke this baby.” vinnie said tiredly.

“you're referring to yourself as a baby now?” y/n smiled.

vinnie only hummed in response.

spreading her legs slightly, vinnie moved down so he could rest his head on her boobs. “need suck?” y/n joked, hearing vinnie laugh.

“mommy,” he joked back, closing his eyes and resting against her.

a few hours later y/n went back to her room so they could play val with everyone.

vin<3: i miss u already babe

y/n<3: im literally in the room next door

vin<3: am i not allowed to miss my hot gf?

y/n<3: hot?🤓🤓

vin<3: u heard me

y/n<3: ig i can call u😔

y/n clicked facetime as she turned on her monitor, hearing vinnie accept. “hi pretty girl.”

“hi pretty boy,” y/n grinned, looking at him to see him setting up too.

after turning everything on she opened valorant and waited.

“who are we playing with?” y/n asked, accepting the invite to vinnie's party.

“i don't know, to be honest,” vinnie answered.

“wanna warm up with some deathmatchs then?” y/n asked.

“yeah, i'll call you on disc,” vinnie hung up.

after the couple warmed up and vinnie started streaming, he got an invite from cavern to join his party.

vinnie then sent an invite to y/n.

“okay, is everyone here now?” someone asked.

the custom lobby was full with 10 players. y/n sucked in a breath, seeing her phone light up with a text from vinnie.

vin<3: u okay baby?

y/n: yeah, hbu?

vin<3: i'm okay. hope i get to have u on my team

y/n: i thought u liked competition ?

vin<3: not against u, ur scary

y/n: grrrrr LOL

vinnie laughed at his phone as he refocused on the game. “okay, i'll take eden, vinnie, y/n, and-“

vinnie watched as y/n clicked over to his team. “not the couple together!” someone on the other team complained. “don't be mad you're gonna lose,” vinnie defended.

y/n grinned, watching as the game started.

“y/n, you wanna play reyna?” cavern asked.

“if someone else wants to-“ y/n started but saw everyone had selected agents.

“never mind.” she laughed, picking lock in.

the score was 7-3 as it was the last round before the swap. y/n was second fragging, one kill under vinnie.

popping reyna's ult, she killed the raze, omen, sage, and reyna. eden got the last kill; killjoy.

their team quickly won the game as they went back into the party. “are we switching teams?” cavern asked.

“hell yeah, dude! we want y/n!”

y/n laughed.

“okay, i'll have vinnie,” cavern read off more names.

y/n clicked on the defender side. sending vinnie a whisper, she typed, “be ready to get your ass kicked, babe.”

with bind being the map y/n got into the agent select screen. “i can play sage, to throw vinnie off,” she said to her teammates. y/n never played sage, preferring to play a duelist or controller.

meanwhile on vinnie's team he had omen hovered over. “y/n is probably gonna play reyna, so we need to be on a look out for that.”

y/n locked in sage, seeing vinnie was playing omen. when they got into the game, vinnie typed in all chat, “sage really?”

“gotta keep u on ur toes sweet face :)” she replied, hearing her teammates talk strategy.

vinnie smirked, following his teammates to b site.

“should i wall off hookah?” y/n asked.

“not yet, i would say wait for them to come first,” the yoru said.

the round started and y/n heard footsteps outside hookah. “they're here.”

“go ahead and wall,” viper told her.

seeing the tip of a gun poke out, y/n right clicked and killed vinnie instantly. laughing, she got another kill before dying.

“BABY DOENOWNS” vinnie typed in all chat.

“LMFAOOOOO” she replied.

their little bantering when on for the rest of the game until it was a 1v1, match point.

y/n was taking spike to a, not having her res ready.

“y/n vinnie is shaking rn” cavern typed in chat.

smirking slightly, y/n walled off ct and planted the spike. playing with time, her shaky hands and rapid heartbeat, she heard vinnie's footsteps in showers.

vinnie checked his corners, but y/n was smarter. using her op, she headshot him as soon as he stepped away from the spike.

“yes!” she shouted, loud enough to make sure vinnie heard it.

seconds later there was footsteps outside her door when vinnie ran in, picking her up out of her chair and threw her onto her bed.

“ah!” she screamed, feeling him tickling her.

“why do you have to be so good at the game?” he asked, continuing his torture.

“b-baby p-please! stop!” she laughed, losing her breath as vinnie stopped moving, now kissing her face.

“i was shitting my pants, i didn't know where you were,” she confessed, wrapping her legs around his hips as he hovered over her to look into her eyes.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” he told her, causing her to grin evilly.

“op queen,” she joked, now kissing his face.

“ah, are ya'll fucking?!” michael screamed, slamming y/n's door closed.

the couple laughed.

“no, i just shit on him at valorant,” y/n explained, pushing her boyfriend off her so she could stand back up and show michael they were fully clothed.

michael nodded and headed to his room.

vinnie kissed y/n's cheek. “i'm gonna get off. wanna hang out with you,” he told her. she nodded.

when they both settled back into their chairs, they clicked on party chat.

“hello?” y/n asked in comms.

“finally!” eden said.

“we thought you two ran off,” cavern joked.

“i got tackled like a fucking football player,” y/n explained, hearing vinnie laugh.

vinnie and y/n said their goodbyes, hearing vinnie open the door again. y/n was now laying down in her bed as vinnie held hera in his hands, plopping her down on the bed.

“come to mama,” y/n said, feeling hera purr against her as the cat nuzzled against y/n's leg.

“what about me?” vinnie frowned, slipping under the black comforter.

“i guess you can join too,” y/n joked, putting her head on his chest as they entangled their legs. hera curled up in the middle of them.

“i still cannot believe you fucking headshot me with an op,” vinnie said.

y/n grinned.

#vinnie #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker fluff #vincent hacker #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker x reader

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the-last-millenial-disaster · 4 years ago

Note

Hi hello sorry for interrupting but what are your favourite voicelines from the agents?

(A/N: Hi! I’m way too enthusiastic for this so I’m gonna go by the agent and list those voicelines that I’m always on the lookout for. Thank you for giving me an excuse to listen to them again.)

My all time favourite quote comes from Cypher:

(MVP) " I am Prometheus! And you, are just a god."

Of course I can't not mention this iconic line:

"Give me a corpse."

Sage:

(ACE) "Must I do everything?"

"Now I know how annoying my healing can be."

Killjoy:

"Okay, I put together some data on our last six combat missions, did you read it? Did anyone read it? Oh god, can anyone here read?"

"I built literally everything on this battlefield, yeah even the things that might kill us. What you want me to say? Sorry?"

(Interrupted defuse) "Don't. Interrupt. My work."

"No Brimstone remember your screen isn't frozen it's just locked, and no the internet isn't down, it's never down."

"Drive them crazy Raze, you're good at that."

And of course:

(Turret kill) "Wait, really?"

Phoenix:

(Headsot) "Sit down!"

(Headsot) "Walk it off, G."

"You thought YOU could come against I."

"Breach! You flash, I flash, everyone's blinded. Lets go!"

Reyna:

"Forgive me if I don't grieve."

"If I act superior, it's because I am."

Raze:

"Killjoy, you and me until the end."

"Cypher I'm so sorry about breaking all your stuff. I mean, I won't stop, but I am sorry."

“I shouldn't have to say this because, you know, my vibe but, stay clear of my explosions."

Jett:

"I got your backs... just, you know, from the front."

"Breach, my man!"

"I still can't get over that owl Sova, it's so cute. Why is it so cute??"

"Oh, my back hurts... Everyone's so heavy."

Yoru:

"How did every piece of trash end up on the same team?"

"That's me over there. Great, now I can kick my own ass."

"I already hear that Breach running his mouth. Don't tell me you'll punch me, just punch me.”

Brimstone:

"Sorry kid," and, "At ease, soldier."

Also

(ACE)"Get off my lawn!" And (ACE) "Five, that's bingo!"

Omen:

"Boo."

"You didn't see that coming."

"History has already forgotten you."

"Rest now. I will keep watch."

(If Viper clutched/aced last round) "That was terrifying!"

"Do you see under my hood, Cypher? Does it scare you?"

"I am the beginning. I am the end."

Viper:

"Bodies decompose after twelve hours in acid. There is no reason I know that."

"The lies we told this city... just to pry it open and suck it dry."

(Thrifty) "Should I use a stick next time?"

“Hide the bodies. We weren’t here.”

Astra:

“My ancestors say wassup!”

“See you next life!”

(Meelee kill) "Ha! My gift to you. And my lesson."'

Sova:

“My babushka told me not to brag. But for this I make an exception.”

"I was told you are all the best, that is why I am here."

"You have me. That is good for you."

"Why are they so determined to die?"

(ACE) "Who else do you have!?"

(Resurrected) "They should have dug a deeper grave. Thank you."

"Don't forget who you are, Omen. A man, not a monster."

(Barely survived) “Nice shot.”

Skye:

(Enemy Skye) "Two of us? This place is going to be a zoo!"

(Enemy Breach) "Shame their Breach is against us, I really need a gym buddy."

"Omen you monster. I mean it in a good way I swear."

(Enemy Brimstone) "There's a Brimstone over there. That mans a fossil, put him in the ground where he belongs."

Breach:

"Guns in my face? Just another Tuesday."

"If you're not getting shot at, you're doing something wrong."

(Forgotten spike) "Where the hell's the spike?!"

(ACE) "What the hell were the rest of you doing?"

“Omen! That scared the shit out of me!”

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ellemany · 3 years ago

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A Valorant dreamcast that nobory asked for Pt.2

hi1Since nobory complain about it, i will keep going :3

So, today is mostly girls day. As Jett says, Let’s go!

Skye

The second smallest agent and yet we all know that she could and would kick all of their asses. And still being beautiful as hell.

I really want a strong red haired Australian woman for her but, just like Sova, is hard to find ;-;

Doing my research, i found Jane Levy and i think she could play well Skye.

My bad, i couldn’t find any better gif ;-;

But then, i saw my brother watching Gotham and found Maggie Geha

I just saw her and said “yep, you will be my Skye”

Now i can’t unseen her as Skye ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Raze

The girl from my land, Brazil :3

So, as a Brazilian, i wouldn’t choose anyone that isn’t Brazilian for being Raze.

Juliana Alves

She has the Raze-worthy charisma and animation! Trust me on this, is a good choice!

Reyna

Oooh, our queen! I think she could step out of the game and hit me for choose someone she didn’t like for playing her. And i would thank her for this!

So, i pick up another queen (in my opinion)

Becky G

Yeah, i think that both girls have the same femme fatale energy

(Fun Fact! Reyna is the third tallest female agent and i think she maybe is 5′7-5′9ft tall [1,75-1,80m], which is very tall for me. While Becky G is only 5ft [1,53])

Sage

Not just your healer. The sword and the mountain. The needed of every team. The amazing one. The girlfriend of Reyna, Sova, Viper, Omen, Jett and the list keep going.

Sage was one of the easiest agents to find an actress who matches with her!

Fan BingBing

I think Sage is sweet, but also a tough woman. Fortunately Fan BingBing can be both!

That’s all for today!

See ya in the pt. 3! :3

#valorant #valorant sage #valorant skye #valorant reyna #valorant raze #dreamcast #headcanon #me trying

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years ago

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Hidden Secrets

I am finally back! Sorry for the long delay without stories, but my life’s been rather hectic lately. I have hopefully compensated with a very interesting storyline I’ve wanted to write for a while now. Everyone has their secrets, and sometimes if they are revealed, things can come to a head...

“They say the only way to actually understand people is to see things through their eyes. It won’t matter if they’re dead, though.” -Thomas Drake

“What’s so wrong with loving an alien? What is so wrong with loving someone, caring for them, being with them forever, so long as both parties are sentient? Is it really such a bad thing?” -Admiral Adam Vir, in a speech to the Galactic Assembly on xenophilia

“In all my travels to thousands of worlds, I have actually never met a xenophiliac. I have, in fact, seen more Chaos cultists than xenophiles. However, I can tell you this. Xenophilia is a crime of unimaginable proportions. It is almost as bad as selling your soul to the Dark Gods themselves. It is something that no one, of any species, save perhaps the most absolute perverse of the Drukhari would even think of. Even then, said Drukhari would most likely be spurned by their fellows. It is a crime of such monstrosity that death is far too fair a fate for its perpetrators.” -Inquisitor Amberly Vail of the Ordo Xenos

Aboard the Omen

Three figures sat around a table. All were relaxed, slightly slouching in their seats. The lights were not the uncomfortable brightness of the medical bays or halls, nor the dim-lit spaces of the engine rooms or hidden maintenance gantries. It was a comfortable, cozy light, illuminating the fake wood of the table and the three that sat around it.

“How the hell did we get on this topic of conversation?” asked Admiral Vir, his face swirling a myriad of colors: the green of his eyes, blond of his hair, black of his eyepatch, and currently, red of his face.

“I’m not precisely sure,” drawled Commander Shepard, “But I believe it has something to do with our good comrade Quill over there complementing extra-terrestrial hips.”

“Hey! There is nothing wrong with pointing out that your chief engineer, despite wearing a face mask and enviro-suit all the time, is pretty hot. Perfect, well-rounded figure,” replied Quill, grinning and adjusting his long, red-brown greatcoat. “Though, it’s just an observation. I’m already taken. By an alien with just as good, if not better, hips.” Vir buried his face in his hands, and Shepard just sighed. “What I don’t get, though,” he continued, “Is why the hell Vir here is attracted to Sunny? Listen, Gamora and Tali are hot. They have ass.” At this, Shepard groaned loudly and joined Vir with his head in his hands. “I don’t get why you’re attracted to an eight foot tall, four armed, beaked, carapaced alien. Unless you’re into some pretty… interesting… things.” Vir looked over to Shepard.

“This is how this conversation’s going to go, isn’t it?” he said. Shepard simply nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I mean, no judgement if you are,” continued Quill. “I’ve done it with aliens a lot weirder than Drev. If you’re into that sort of thing… whatever thing a Drev is, that’s fine.” Vir simply sighed again.

“Jesus, Quill.” He looked around, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to his companions. “Alright. Fine.” He cracked his neck. “You know what? You want me to ‘fess up, I will. I…” He trailed off for a moment, working his jaw and wringing his hands before letting out a breath. “I… like…” He noticed the expectant looks of the other two at the table. “Okay, fine, love… Sunny.” He threw up his hands, face an even deeper shade of red, if at all possible. “There. Said it. Please kill me.”

“Well. No offense Adam, but I wasn’t expecting you to start off with that,” replied Shepard.

“Neither did I,” murmured Adam. He looked over to Quill once more. “It’s not that I like Drev. It’s just that I like… her. I… She… Well…”

“C’mon Adam. Spit it out.” Vir sighed again.

“I love her. No matter who or what she may be. Not because she’s an alien. Everything about her being… her. If that makes sense,” he finished lamely. Shepard and Quill, though, both nodded along sagely.

“Yeah. It does,” replied Shepard quietly. “I… feel the same way. In a way.” He laughed. “I guess tonight none of us are going to have a way with words.” He let out a large sigh, and his eyes went distant, seeing things that existed a thousand miles away. “I… think I do love Tali. I think I do… but I haven’t even told her.” He gave another laugh, this one much more bitter. “I’m telling this all to you, but I haven’t even told her. I… just… I don’t want to hurt her.” He looked at his own scarred hands miserably. “I’m a Spectre, and I’m running the most dangerous mission in the galaxy, on an unauthorized ship, and I just… don’t want anyone to hurt her. And I don’t want to hurt her. So I haven’t said anything,” he finished.

“Yeah,” replied Quill, much more soberly than his teasing before. “I know how you both feel. I was a bit of a playboy for a while,” he grinned. His expression became serious once more. “But, after I met Gamora, and… was in a world without her, for a bit, I finally understood. What it meant. To actually love someone.” He gave his cocky smile once again. “Despite, you know, her being a super-assassin who can and has kicked my ass on multiple occasions.” Both Vir and Shepard laughed.

“You know, it’s funny how just talking can make you see things differently. Make the world seem better,” said Shepard. He grinned at Vir. “Thanks for inviting us over.” Vir looked at him strangely, frowning.

“What do you mean? You invited us. You said you wanted to talk, and talk on my ship.” Shepard responded with an equally puzzled expression.

“No, I didn’t,” he insisted. “You invited us here.” Quill nodded in conformation.

“Yeah. You invited us.”

“No I didn’t!” shot back Vir.

“Well if you didn’t, who did?” asked Shepard. Their argument was broken by a new voice, filled with righteous hate and vengeance, as cold as an ice-world blizzard.

“I did.” Quill, Vir, and Shepard started. They hadn’t even heard the door open. The imposing figure of Commissar Ciaphas Cain, clad in his heavy black greatcoat, boots, and cap, swirled through the door, holding his laspistol at the ready. Vir, being the one in most contact with Cain (Cain was stationed aboard his ship, after all), had heard stories from the Valhallan infantry about Imperial commissars. They had all said how lucky they’d been to have Cain, as many commissars were hate-filled, imposing men and women who ruled through sheer terror. Vir had laughed it off. Cain was calm. Cain was understanding. Cain was always one to look for a solution to any problems, and prevent people from fighting. Even when they had first met, when the Imperials, so unused to aliens, had tried to pick fights with the Omen’s crew, Cain had calmed things down. He was the perfect officer.

But now, Vir remembered the Valhallans’ stories. Cain fit the description of a commissar perfectly now. His massive height, the dark uniform, the eyes blazing with a hate that was so un-Cain like and outstretched laspistol made him a figure of nightmares from a totalitarian and xenophobic government. Xenophobic… Shit! Apparently, all three men sitting at the table had the same idea at once, and made a motion to rise. Cain tightened his grip on the laspistol, and flicked it clearly at each one of them in turn.

“Ah, un uh. Sit back down,” he hissed. “Hands on the table.” The three complied, lowering themselves back into their seats slowly. Cain kept the gun pointed at them.

“Cain?” asked Shepard hesitantly. “What’s this about?”

“I’m no fool,” replied Cain, “Though I think you believe me one.” His gloved fingers tightened on the laspistol grip. There was a brief pause as Cain glared at the three.

What made both Shepard and Vir such good commanding officers was their ability to read people. They were experts at knowing what people were thinking, and how to react accordingly. What shocked them both was the expression of pure betrayal behind Cain’s cold eyes. That was an emotion neither of them expected.

“I’d heard rumors, of course. Some tabloid drama, accusing humanity's greatest heroes of xenophilia, of all things.” Cain scoffed. “Disgusting, I thought. How dare they slander you so!” Cain’s voice dropped from anger to pure fury. “But then,” he hissed, “Then I heard more official reports. I heard your speeches. I saw pictures. I heard rumors not from some disgusting two-bit reporter, but from your own crews. I am not blind, though you might think me so. And this?” He waved his pistol around the room. “You were humanity’s best.” His voice dropped into a whisper, resonating with hurt and betrayal. “I gave you a chance. I thought it could not be so. I thought that even though you served with aliens, they were subservient to you. To humanity. But now I have proof. Proof of your degeneracy. From your own mouths. You confessed. I gave you a chance to say otherwise, a second chance, but you… scum,” he finished, too angry for words. He noticed their glances at the door and gave out a dark laugh. “Oh, no. There’s no one here to save you, traitors. I made sure of it.”

“So what now?” asked Shepard calmly, breaking the tension.

“Now?” replied Cain, laspistol still pointed at the three. “Now I kill you, as is my duty. I lock this door, and pretend there is some urgent conference I need you for. I tell Kasteen and Brocklaw to have Simone set a course to Watch Fortress Novus Galactica, and there the Inquisition will purge this ship, then return for the others. There is no escape.” Vir stood up, hands raised, fury on his face.

“If I’m going to die I’m going to get my say. I never did enough of that in life,” he said with a bitter laugh. He fixed Cain with an equally furious stare, looking at the double-headed golden eagles on Cain’s cap and lapels.�� Those eagles. Those god-damned eagles. “I’ve had enough of people like you. I’ve had enough of trying to explain myself. I’m not some sick fuck. I’m not a degenerate. I love an alien for who she is, not what she is. And if you kill me, then you kill me,” he spat. Cain smirked.

“So be it.” He was interrupted by a sound. A metallic click-click. A sound known by every member in the room. A sound known to almost every human and alien in existence. A sound known by all who ever watched human movies, or fought human armies. A sound that first came into existence in 1835 and was repeated every day, somewhere in human territory across nine galaxies ever since. The sound of a revolver hammer being cocked.

“Put the gun down, Commissar.” The voice of Thomas Drake was smooth. Unemotional, and uncaring at the drama unfolding in front of him. His matt-black revolver, held by his dark gloves, was pointed at Cain’s head. He was at a perfect distance, where Cain could not turn on him before being gunned down. Vir still stood, Shepard and Quill both seated, their hands still up or on the table. The only movement Cain made was to clench his jaw and extend his pistol arm farther.

“Drake,” hissed Cain. “I should have known. You knew all their secrets. You hid this from us!”

“Of course,” replied Drake. “Their actions are their own, though, and their secrets were not mine to give out.” Cain’s hand squeezed the pistol grip even tighter, his augmetic fingers balancing it through his rage.

“I can still kill them, Drake. I suggest you put your gun down before that happens,” he suggested, his voice tight. Drake laughed.

“Yes. One. Before I kill you. One squeeze of the trigger I can’t prevent. I can prevent two, though. But you won’t.” Drake’s voice was delighted, smiling wryly at a secret only he possessed. “You won’t because I know you won’t. You won’t because I know your secrets. I read your book! Your autobiography!” he announced with malicious triumph. “I know how your mind works, and I know that you don’t want to die on this ship, or anywhere else, especially for the life of one measly heretic. So you put your gun down, Commissar.” Cain struggled for a moment, his muscles clenching and unclenching, before he finally gave a disgusted snort and tossed his laspistol on the table. Vir, Quill, and Shepard let out breaths they didn’t know they were holding.

“So then,” sneered Cain. “What now, oh Captain Drake? You have already proven you won’t kill me, and they cannot be allowed to live,” he said. Drake merely smiled.

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘To understand someone you must see the world through their eyes’?” he asked. The other four occupants of the room nodded, unsure of where this was going. “Well, that’s precisely what’s going to happen. Let’s see if you’ll kill each other when you know precisely how you each operate.” He gave a dark grin and gestured with his pistol at Vir, Shepard, and Quill. “Now. You three. Put your weapons on the table,” he ordered. The three stared at him in shock.

“But… why?” replied Quill. “You saved us,” he said, as if that explained his reasoning. Drake simply laughed again.

“I like to be the only one in a room holding a weapon. Especially in a situation as intense as this. Now. Guns on the table. Vir, you aren’t carrying a weapon. Shameful,” he drawled. “Your pistols, Quill, and the knives I know you have in your sleeve and boot. Your sidearm, Shepard.” The three complied, Drake’s revolver now pointed at them as Cain scowled at the situation. “Wonderful,” said Drake. He took a step back, walking through the doorway, and gestured at the four men to follow him. They complied grudgingly, still shooting death glares at each other. Drake put a hand to the communications device in his left ear, not moving his gun arm an inch. “Beam us up, Scotty,” he said simply. With a whir and flash, the five disappeared from the Omen, only to suddenly see the hallways of the Enterprise around them.

“So. Kirk and the Starfleet officers are in on this as well. Why I am not surprised,” stated Cain, looking at his surroundings with grudging simplicity.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” replied Drake. He lowered his pistol, finger coming off the trigger. “No one’s here, either. No help from the crew here.” He tilted his head to a large grey door. “In that room.” Looking warily at his gun, trying and thinking how to take it from him all the while, the four followed Drake’s command. The room was an empty expanse of darkness. None of them could tell its purpose or how big it truly was.

“What is this place?” asked Quill.

“It's called a ‘holodeck’,” replied Drake. “It is a room that is, essentially, a massive virtual reality. It’s usually used for some sort of training simulation programs, but this time, I’ve made sure it can read memories. Oh yeah,” he grinned. “It can do that. And that is what’s going to happen. We are going to delve inside each of our minds, and see what makes us all tick. Maybe if you see someone else’s entire life laid out in front of them from their point of view you’ll be less likely to kill them.” Drake took in their apprehensive glances. “Oh yes. I know. All of us have secrets. And I’m sure none of you really trust this. That’s why I’ll go first. Let us begin.”

There we have it. Cain can tolerate a lot of things, including working with aliens, but absolutely not romancing aliens. I shall continue this story line, with all of these characters giving their own horrible memories. As always, I own no one except Drake, and all characters belong to their original rightful owners. If you have any criticisms, comments, concerns, questions, or requests, feel free to tell me!

#magnificent scoundrels #writing #my writing #crossover #crossover story #mass effect #empyrean iris #guardians of the galaxy #warhammer 40k

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hopeswriting · 4 years ago

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FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: Breakfast in Bed

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Verde & Adult!Fon

SUMMARY:

Verde is sick and Fon brings him his breakfast in bed to be nice.

WORDS: 915 (BONUS: 1502)

Fon releases a burst of Storm flames through Verde’s room, then two more before he takes a step in. He’s not fool enough to think he disabled every devices set up by Verde though, but it’ll have to do.

He puts the tray on the bedside table, and turns on the lamp.

Verde is hidden under the blanket, doesn’t move, breathes evenly as if sleeping. Fon kicks the bed.

“Don’t make me knock you out to actually get you to sleep. Hand them over.”

Verde plays dead. Fon flares his flames and he bursts out of the blanket, his skin pale, his stubble unkempt, with dark bags under his eyes, and his hair in a total disarray.

He throws his phone at him.

“The others too.”

Verde rummages under the blanket and throws a couple of more phones, gives up two laptops from under the pillows, and a third one from a secret place in the headboard.

“Your watch too.”

Verde glares at him throughout the whole process of throwing his watch at him, aiming for it to go straight through his skull if the force—and the flames—he used is anything to go by.

Fon rolls his eyes.

He fries the devices one by one with his flames, and slips in the bed. He releases one last burst of Storm flames through the mattress and the bed frame to disable the last of hidden devices.

“Be glad I'm leaving you your glasses. And speaking of them, you didn’t even take them off. How much of an idiot do you think I am?”

“A lifetime wouldn’t be enough for me to answer you.”

Fon plays deaf out of the sheer generosity of his heart. He picks up the tray, and holds it still on his lap the time for Verde to settle against the headboard too.

“How do you feel today?”

“Perfectly fine. And I have things to do, so I would like it if you could release me already.”

“You’re sick. Science told us that, or are you going to deny it? Here, try some bread.”

Verde slaps the slice of bread from his hands. “And whose fault is that? Who’s the idiot who infected me?”

“Yes, because you live such a healthy life Verde. I can’t possibly imagine how else you could have gotten sick.”

“I’m the smartest man in the world.” Fon slumps against the headboard and starts munching on the bread. “I could single-handedly bring society into a new age, a society you’re part of, but here I am.”

“Single-handedly? That’s quite rude to all your fellows competent scientists.”

“You’re right, actually. They might even contribute more than me, as I’m certain they’re not being forcefully bed-ridden as we’re talking.”

“Are you going to just keep talking?” Fon holds a spoonful to his mouth. “Here, try some soup then. I don’t want you to go on a coughing fit on me again.”

Verde drinks his soup obediently, and oh, he does plan to keep talking then? God forbid.

“Where’s Reborn when you need him?”

“On a job.”

“Where’s Luce? She can’t possibly agree with this.”

Fon scoffs. “Luce can’t save you now. She said she won’t take a step in the mansion again before we’re all proven to be in perfect health.”

Verde grumbles, and mumbles, and mutters, kicking his feet—kicking Fon’s feet, and on purpose, Fon is sure.

He slumps against him, rests his head on his shoulder, so obviously sick Fon can’t believe they managed to debate on the fact so many times already.

“You’re all incompetent.”

“For the record, Viper proposed to attach you to the bed until you’re healed, and I’m the only one who stood against that. So you might want to show some gratefulness sometimes soon.”

“You’re all incompetent, brainless, primitive, and a total waste of space.”

“You want some yogurt?”

“You’re all so incompetent, brainless, primitive, and a total waste of space, and—”

Fon shoves the spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. Verde spits it out right back on the tray.

Fon musters all the patience he can.

Was it him that also stood against Lal when she proposed to daze him in Rain flames? What an unwise man he was then.

“This is disgusting Verde.”

“That was incredibly rude. I was talking.”

Fon smiles, with teeth. “I’m listening.”

“Well, as I was saying, you’re all so incompetent, brainless, primitive, and a total waste of space, and I hate you all.” He pushes his glasses back up his nose, smirking smugly. “That’s all.”

Fon crushes the spoon in his fist, stabs it in the tray. He grabs his chin.

“You listen to me well. You will play nice with me from now on, or I will stop playing nice with you and make this whole recovery so much worse than you could imagine. You’ll never be afraid of anything more than falling sick ever again, because every time you’ll catch the symptoms I’ll come haunt you in your dreams like the most frightening omen of death.” He leans his forehead against his, and brushes their noses together tenderly. “Rightfully so. Did we understand each other?”

Verde blinks slowly, a sharp focus shining in his green eyes. “Interesting. I feel unreasonably turned on right now.”

Fon raises his eyebrow. “What’s so unreasonable about that?” He headbutts him lightly, and settles against the headboard again so Verde can rest his head back on his shoulder. “Now be reasonable and finish your soup sagely.”

BONUS:

I headcanon Fon as a sweetheart at heart who can and will go feral if needed, but let’s go with just Feral!Fon instead.

That’s just who he is at his core, his default state, just completely feral, Take No Shit and Give No Fuck, very indulgent to his every desire, 24/7.

Now of course he learned all about being mannered, and harmless/trustworthy looking, and sweet, and restrained because it is needed for the job sometimes, and he can play the part flawlessly, but even then sometimes he just can’t bother.

Just… No, You Live In A Society And I Intend To Break Every Last One Of Its Rules!Fon, you know?

Fon being an actual Storm à la Gokudera, but so much worse (or so much better I guess, depending on how you see it asdfgh).

And so when he meets with the other Arcobaleno, he kind of just sets the tone for all their future interactions.

------

He meets with the Arcobaleno at the meeting of the Chosen Seven, and his vibes instantly rub Reborn’s, Verde’s, Lal’s and Luce’s the wrong way.

On the other hand Skull and Viper decide to love him, and it’s the birth of such a chaotic trio, Reborn can only be jealous and admiring.

(And he can’t help but side with them whenever it’s time to face consequences, because he just can’t let such a harbinger of chaos being censored.)

------

Reborn takes one look at Fon and immediately feels so deeply offended and challenged. “I can see you’re a little shit who likes to be a pain in the ass with the people you care about, but this is my role and there can be only one of us.”

Fon takes one look at Reborn and goes “We could have been such a wonderful team, but I can see you like to be the only one in control and I don’t like being told what to do, so you will have to go down.”

It’s not even an hour in the mansion on their first day, and Fon tries to rip Reborn’s smirk off of his face, and pluck his smug black eyes, and cut off his sliver tongued all with his bare hands, because “No, sorry, I’m Take No Shit Give No Fuck!Fon, so you’ll just have to be your insufferable self with someone else.”

It’s their first fight of many more to come.

------

Luce has none of their bullshit. She is pregnant, and she can’t believe she even needs to point it out because “Hello, can’t you see this big belly of mine? You will behave or god help you.”

She straight up uses her flames on them to daze them whenever they’re about to lash out on each other too much.

Not in a way where she’s forcing her flames on them or crossing boundaries of course, but just enough they don’t want to risk losing their own limbs if they were to power through her flames.

And when she really can give no fuck either, she just straight up… fakes some kind of help-my-pregnancy-is-going-wrong induced attack.

She just collapses on the ground, wailing, her arms tight around her belly, fake tears rolling on her face, begging like she’s being murdered in the worst of way.

The others are losing their mind other this because “What if one day it’s for real??? And what if we’re too late because we wasted time thinking it wasn’t?????? You can’t keep doing this, we’re begging you to stop.”

And Luce looks them straight in the eye and goes “Well maybe it’s time for you to act like adults who are actually adulting like they should.”

And then they all laugh because “What kind of unrealistic demand is that? Woah, you’re so hilarious Luce, who knew.”

(They just start doing it behind Luce’s back like little kids being naughty and not wanting their parents to catch them.)

------

Skull takes absolutely none of their shits either and it puzzles them all because “Uhmm, excuse you? You’re a civilian?? And we’re literally the Strongest people in the world???”

And he’s like “What, like it’s hard???”

(And it really doesn’t look like it’s hard for him, and it makes them lose their mind like nothing else ever did.)

Now Skull isn’t BAMF in this, and didn’t learn to use his flames in any significant way before meeting them, but he simply has the highest amount of flames and can go on for the longest time.

(And he’s actually very high on the list of the ones whose flames have the most raw power.)

Skull just retreats in what he calls his Cocoon whenever they want to try anything.

He surrounds himself with thick, dense (and powerful) amount of Cloud flames—the others swear they could actually cut like butter—, and chills in the middle of it until they tire themselves trying to push through.

(And then when they grow out of their urge to bully/take advantage of their “weakest” link, and they actual have a healthy relationship with him, he uses his Cocoon to avoid any consequences whenever he messes with them.)

Fon loves trying to break through his Cocoon. Fon is the best at trying to break through his Cocoon. Fon gets worryingly better and better at trying to break through his Cocoon.

Skull asks for proper flames trying from Viper and Lal because hell no, he doesn’t want to find out what will happen once Fon actually breaks through.

------

Verde never regretted his intelligence more than now he has to be around these people because of it.

And it’s actually saying all that needs to be said because he actually never regretted his intelligence even once in his life before.

He takes it upon himself to be the bigger person, and just ignores them and lets them to their devices. He fully expects the favor to be returned.

The favor is not returned.

Mostly because the others always want him to help them with their new childish plan of the day, or playing referee, or tacking side.

But also they’d be simply heartbroken to have to play favorites, and so they simply have to mess with him too.

And even then Verde takes it and bears with it because he’s the Smartest Man in the World, and he has other things of utmost importance to do, thank you very much.

But he’s just a man at the end of the day, and always snap at them eventually.

It’s always the most interesting weeks to live in the mansion when he does.

------

Lal just wants some predictability in this godforsaken house. She wants to have landmarks, a routine to fall back to.

Is that too much to ask? Apparently. Is it going to stop her? It will not.

If the others aren’t willing to cooperate with her, she simply will make them do it anyway. This is a treat.

She falls in a master-and-their-pet type of relationship with them, and the others find it funny because “What, you want to train us? Good luck with that.”

It’s a lot less funny when they go “Hold on, this isn’t right, is it actually working???”

Lal finds it cute they bothered doubting her skills to begin with. One of her jobs is literally to teach people to look death in the eye and tell it to fuck off, but they thought they??? were??? going to be a challenge????

She thinks the fuck not.<3

Her team ups with Luce or Verde (or both) are feared by the others.

------

Viper is there for the sheer chaos of it all. It would be Reborn’s role but he’s too busy competing with Fon, so it’s Viper’s instead.

They’re in it for the blackmail and information gathering too. Nothing like people lashing out when you want them to be their most open selves.<3

But they’re not neutral at all, on the contrary. They’re the wild card.

Some days they want the brand of chaos that will specifically piss off Reborn, so they team up with Fon and Skull.

Some days they want the brand of chaos that will piss off everyone else but them, so they team up with Reborn.

Some days they want a brand of chaos that is organized, so they team up with Lal and Luce.

Some days they don’t want to deal with any kind of chaos at all, so they team up with Verde.

The others treat them cautiously in this regard, and they love it. They love it even more when they dig a knife in their back and abruptly switch sides lol.

They absolutely do favorites too. (Fon/Skull and, surprisingly, Verde.)

------

And you know, I’m a big Polyamory!Arcobaleno shipper but I strongly feel in this one they’re just strongly and intimately platonic.

Just, you know, Arcobaleno as Family. The Arcobaleno bonding together by giving each other the childhood they never had.

And maybe they don’t deserve it, but I love them so much so they need to have this anyway.<3

This verse was a lot of fun to flesh out a bit! If it spoke to you too, maybe we can talk together about this? I’d love to!

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #flufftober 2020 #khr fon #khr verde #breakfast in bed #verde & fon #one day i w i l l write the feral unhiged ruthless fon we all need and deserve #even if you don't know it yet<3 #and verde is just an absolute unbearable little shit whenever he's sick #the others find it out the hard way lol

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lepus-arcticus · 5 years ago

Text

OMENS: CHAPTER SIX one | two | three | four | five trigger warnings apply

HORIZON POLICE STATION 3:20 PM

Hugh sat with his elbows on the desk across from Scully, fingers interlocked in front of his mouth, his brows knit in pensive, tortured reflection.

They were alone in the dim, chilly police station, and the rain outside had begun again in earnest, all the more livid for having given up this morning’s skytime to the sun. The station had been a schoolhouse in a previous incarnation, and green chalkboards still lined one wall, a faded, dusty black-and-white photograph of Truman lurking crooked above them. Theo was off somewhere, chasing down a rogue preteen who’d gotten ahold of a can of spray paint, leaving Scully with a set of keys and instructions for the finicky coffee maker. Not that she needed it with all the caffeine swimming in her blood already, or the jolt of pissy adrenaline that bickering with Mulder always gave her.

Scully hugged her elbows against the cold, letting the revelation settle between them.

“You’re sure?” Hugh’s voice was soft, unsteady. “You’re sure she was pregnant?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Scully said soberly. Anna’s body, or what was left of it, was still in the next room, piled like compost into a biohazard bag in the fridge. Maybe it was because of the nightmare, or because this might very well be her last case... but it had affected her more than she would have expected. The absolute carnage of it, the impossible task of trying to arrange the raw-hamburger heap of torn flesh and skin into something readable, something that might give her any insight into what happened that night.

From what little she could ascertain, the characteristics of Anna’s remains would, hypothetically, match the tearing patterns of beaks and talons. But she still wasn’t ready to admit that crows could have done this. It was too sensational, too extraordinary to believe.

She thought of Anna’s pale face, marred almost beyond recognition, cold and lifeless below her on a surgical table that had previously only ever seen ailing family dogs and diseased sheep.

Anna’s pale face, above her in the night, screaming, tortured, falling apart.

In the painstaking process of sifting through the meat, she’d almost missed the cluster of soft, tiny bones, a small ribcage, the shards of a miniature skull. Anna had to have known.

She shivered, willing the image away.

“Mr. Daly…” The man was frozen, blank, completely unresponsive. Scully looked him over⁠—his hunched shoulders, his three-day beard, the dark circles under his eyes⁠—and her heart went out to him. It was almost inconceivable that she’d found him so unnerving at their last encounter. She reached out and gently touched his arm. “Hugh…”

He shook her away, a muffled sob rising from his throat, and cast his eyes downward. “Please don’t make me look at her. I can’t bear to see her,” he said, and the utter defeat and devastation in his voice humbled Scully further.

As she watched him try to pull himself together, try to wrestle with the demon of his grief, something expanded and softened within her. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been able to; something about growing up with her father’s stoic, expressionless mein meant that she could hardly bear it when grown men cried.

“Hugh… there’s no need to look at Anna’s body. You don’t have to see her. Theo, Rhiannon, Marion… they’ve already given us a positive identification.” He sucked in a breath, then let it loose. “But if you can think of any reason, any reason at all, why Anna might not have shared the news that she was pregnant with you… we need to know. I need to know.”

“Ehm…” he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know why Anna would have kept this from me. I really don’t. We weren’t… actively trying to become pregnant or anything, but there were no... I mean, we were married. There were no… precautions taken, either.

He wiped at his eyes and placed his hands face-down on the table, breathing deeply. “Miss Scully… Agent Scully. Back at the farm… yesterday. I am such an ass. Such an intolerable ass. I’ve been an utter mess since Anna…” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I beg of you.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“I should have never spoken to you in such a disrespectful way… I’m so sorry. You’re here to help me.”

Scully, almost unconsciously, let one of her hands fall lightly next to Hugh’s. They were farmer’s hands, scarred and calloused and square, and she found herself appreciating the sheer masculinity of them. “It’s okay,” she said after a moment, and meant it.

“Have you ever… lost somebody? I mean, like this? Unexpectedly? Tragically?”

Scully looked at her hands, then back up to his face.

Hugh’s red-rimmed eyes remained on hers, bright with spent tears and deep with acknowledgement. “What happened?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” she said, quietly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said, under his breath. “I’ve seen my fair share of unbelievable things, Miss Scully...”

She took him in, all of his unsophisticated honesty, the unpretentious poetry of his voice, like a peasant prince in a fairy tale. “It’s, um… it’s Dana,” she said mildly. “Call me Dana.”

“Dana,” he said. “Please. I can’t be here. Not with… not with her in the next room. And I’m in dire need of a coffee. The Half-Moon’s just fifteen minutes north, can I buy you a cup? It’s the very least I could do.”

Just then, her phone shrieked from her pocket, shrill and unpleasant and demanding. She slid her hand from beside Hugh’s, fumbled around for the wailing hunk of plastic, looked back at the man across from her… and ended the call.

“Sure. I could use one too.”

KICKING HORSE B&B 3:30 PM

The rest of the drive back to Rhiannon’s was silent, save for Neil Young’s nasal crooning and a few distant, ominous rolls of thunder. Mulder’s mind was doing somersaults. He tried to worm his way into Marion with a few tentative questions, but she was quiet and resolute, determined to keep him in the dark, and he knew better than to push her until precisely the right moment.

Kicking Horse stood tall and proud over the wheat and wildflowers, the lake like a silver coin in the distance. Mulder eased the truck up the driveway and killed the engine. Immediately, Marion reached over and yanked the keys from the ignition, throwing the passenger door open and clambering out. He followed her up to the porch, where she unlocked the front door with shaking hands, mumbled a goodbye, and practically sprinted back to the truck. Before Mulder had a chance to organize his thoughts, the truck growled back to life, and she was already driving away.

He watched her disappear into the fields, and then opened the front door.

The house was dark with the coming storm, the watery afternoon light stretching shadows across the walls. “Hello?” he called, shrugging off his trench and hooking it onto the old brass coat tree. At the sound of his voice, Hypatia’s long white face appeared from the top of the stairs, and she barreled down to greet him with a low whine. She writhed in excitement, mouthing at his hands as he knelt to unlace his shoes. “Get outta here,” he scolded, brushing her away.

As he stood up and toed his shoes off, leaving them in a muddy jumble at the entrance, he noticed a slip of paper on the hall table, bright against the dark wood. He picked it up. An old receipt for fertilizer, a note scribbled onto the back. The handwriting was an unfamiliar loopy scrawl, barely legible.

Fox, Dana - If I’m not back before you, please make yourselves at home. R

Mulder crumpled the note and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, fishing out his cell in the process. He thumbed star one on the speed dial, and stood, gnawing his lip, anticipating the soft, staticky bleed of Scully’s voice over the line.

One ring, two, and then it disconnected abruptly. She must still be at the station.

He didn’t like it, any of it⁠—the fox, Abel Stoesz, Marion’s tear-stained, panicked words on the highway. Scully, clearly affected by the results of the autopsy, likely in the middle of questioning a man who made her uncomfortable. A man who, despite the lack of evidence pointing towards him, Mulder was beginning to think of as a suspect.

Get a grip, he admonished the part of himself that wanted to run to her, find her, make sure she was okay. She was the most capable woman he had ever known, and cancer didn’t negate that.

He checked his watch, and decided he should probably eat something. Hypatia trotted after him as he moved into the kitchen and plucked an orange from the bowl on the countertop. He dug a fingernail into the rind and peeled it off in one go, unsuccessfully searching for a garbage bin before tossing it into the sink. The dog stared at him.

“What?” he asked, and she turned tail and paced off into the conservatory. He figured he didn’t have anything better to do until he could get ahold of Scully, so he followed her.

The conservatory was quiet, save for a few lyrical pings of rain against the curved glass. The air was rich and heavy and alive, sweet and spiced with the scent of nectar and herbs. Mulder pulled in a deep and cleansing breath, and padded along the cool tile in his socked feet, munching sections of his orange, surveying the greenery. Next to a potted rose bush, a thick vine of near-ripe tomatoes climbed up a rickety trellis. A box of rosemary sat next to a planter of sage.

As he leaned in to better inhale the green fragrance of it, he received a sudden, unbidden image of his father’s mother in the garden in Quonochontaug, her knees caked with dirt, her wide-brimmed hat casting her face into shadow. Samantha running towards her, braids whipping in the wind, half-bloomed peonies tucked into the breast of her overalls.

He was lost in the memory, turning it over and smiling sadly to himself, when something caught the edge of his attention.

The barest wisp of movement from the kitchen, barely discernible out of the corner of his eye. He turned sharply, but there was nobody there. His nerves tingled. The dog stared up at him with warm, steady eyes.

A deafening crash of thunder overhead startled him, and then a moment later, a gentle rush of rainfall obscured the sky. Mulder shook himself out of it. He finished his orange, sucking his fingers clean, and returned to the kitchen.

The dog followed, watching.

He walked past the island and into the dining room, trailing his fingers along the worn surface of the table. The fireplace yawned in front of him with a mouth that was cold and black and empty. Without Rhiannon, the house seemed to take on an energy all its own, and Mulder found himself with the unshakeable sensation of being watched. Of being noticed.

The sitting room was dark and crowded with mismatched furniture. There was an overstuffed floral couch bearing a cluster of beaded pillows, a wooden rocking chair wedged into a corner and piled with quilts, a Victorian loveseat squatting under a lace-curtained window. Mulder located a vintage glass-bellied lamp and switched it on, making his way over to the wall of books.

He lingered over the contents, wary of Hypatia’s stare from her chosen perch on the couch. Outdated veterinary texts were wedged in between leather-bound photo albums and volumes of poetry. The collected works of Shakespeare were arranged in a tidy row, sandwiched between Interview With the Vampire and The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem. 1984, The Story of O, Jane Eyre. Mulder narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of Rhiannon’s scattered reading habits.

He eased a fat photo album from its place on the shelf and let it fall open, balancing it in the crook of his elbow. The pages were black, old-fashioned, the photographs held in place by small, ornate brass corners. His eyes fell on a faded snapshot of a little girl, around 9, freckled and smiling in the sun. Her hair formed a boisterous marmalade cloud around her cherubic face, and she was missing a front tooth. The photograph beside it showed a woman swooping in to scoop her up, and Mulder realized from the striking resemblance that this must be Rhiannon and her mother. He thumbed through the pages, watching Rhiannon grow.

Rhiannon as a gangly teenager, sitting on the porch railing, her skinny legs dangling. Rhiannon astride a horse, hands knit into his mane, bareback and barefoot. Rhiannon in taffeta on her way to the prom, with a young, blond, beaming man hooked by the elbow. The first man, in fact, that Mulder had seen in the album at all. He looked familiar, and as Mulder studied his face, he realized it was Theo, football-thick beside Rhiannon’s thin frame. Mulder recalled the look they’d shared at dinner the night before.

On and off, maybe? Divorced? Hopelessly and painfully in love, but never managed to sack up and just make it work?

Mulder closed the album with a grimace and slid it back into its spot, tipping out the next one. The first page featured a yellowed clipping of an obituary.

Morgana Elizabeth Bishop Morgana Elizabeth Bishop, 53, of Horizon, Montana, departed this earth suddenly on Thursday at her home. A practicing midwife for 30 years, she was well-loved and well-regarded by the citizens of Glacier County, many of whom she helped to bring into the world. Born in 1932 to the late Agnes Bishop, Morgana spent her life in service to the community of Horizon. Morgana is survived by her daughter, Rhiannon Bishop. Funeral services will be held at 7 p.m. on Sunday at the historic Kicking Horse homestead.

The photograph above it featured a woman that looked like an older version of Rhiannon, with a few more lines around her eyes and a sallow, sunken look to her cheeks. 1932... 53… the obit must have been from sometime in 1985. Rhiannon most likely would have been in her 30s. Mulder turned the page, and was surprised to see a jump in time.

Marion peered up at him from the cusp of 16, already tall, her arms crossed on the porch of Kicking Horse. Her smile was tight and wary. “1991” was looped in white chalk beneath the photograph. Mulder fingered the corner of the page, intrigued, and continued.

Hypatia as a puppy, her nose hooked over Marion’s shoulder as Marion pressed a kiss to her ear. Marion’s long braid reaching the small of her back. A candid shot of Marion and Theo washing dishes in the sink. A rueful-looking Rhiannon opening a present at Christmas, a pine lit up behind her.

And then Anna appeared. She posed on the porch with the half-grown dog, teenage-chubby and extensively freckled. Anna and Marion in the barn. Anna and Marion laughing and posing in front of Marion’s Chevy. Anna in the grass, sleeping, a book tented over her face, with Hypatia curled beside her, snout resting on her thigh.

Mulder turned another page, and found it blank. No photos of Marion graduating from the police academy, or in her uniform, like you might expect any proud foster parent to display. None from Hugh and Anna’s wedding. None of Hugh at all. A good third of the album remained empty.

The wind knocked against the window, and a chill ran down his spine.

He realized with some confusion that he’d been humming something, and stopped himself.

The water is…

But then he heard it again⁠—a small, thin voice, shifting in and out of his periphery. But no, he wasn’t exactly hearing it… but he could sense it, could almost even make out a tune.

… cannot get o’er….

He shook his head to break the spell. It was probably the rain, the thunder, the winds. Turning his attention back to the album, he studied the last photo of Anna, looking for shadows of turmoil, hints of anything.

There was a flicker of light in the corner of his vision, and his eyes jolted upwards. He went still, suddenly aware of his heartbeat, of the hairs on his forearms. On the couch, Hypatia flattened her ears and whined. Nobody was there. He willed himself to calm down. He was just getting spooked. It was just his imagination.

Or was it?

“...Anna?” he tried out loud, his voice cracking. He ran through the lore in his mind, looking carefully around him, holding his breath, his stomach twisting itself into a fist. Places could hold memories, energetic signatures. Spirits repeating their earthly paths, walking hallways and doing the dishes. Spirits reaching out for help, for closure.

He glanced down at the photograph one more time, and then he saw it again, in the corner of the room. Not quite a shadow, not quite a light, not quite a shimmer, but something that somehow contained all three. If he looked at it straight on, it disappeared. Hypatia keened. The surface of his skin prickled.

He slowly replaced the photo album, and moved towards where the glimmer had been. “Anna, are you here?” A glimpse of movement in the hall, drawing him onwards, drawing him upwards. He pursued it, the floor creaking under his footsteps.

The rain picked up outside, falling harder, faster. His heartbeat followed suit.

He tiptoed up the stairs, slowly, the faces of the Bishop women following him from their frames. Brotherless, fatherless, sonless. He was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t necessarily a design choice.

In his periphery, the glimmer seemed to slip into Scully’s room. He followed it in, his hand resting instinctively on his sidearm. The bed where they’d laughed the night before was still rumpled, which struck him as strange. Scully was usually tidy to the point of absurdity. No matter how seedy the motel, she’d unpack completely, hang her clothes up, make the bed before the maid could get to it.

Hypatia whined uneasily behind him, and he turned to her. She pawed at the threshold of the door, but would not follow him in. Her ears lay flat and quivering against her head.

Mulder looked once again around the room. With a swell of guilty curiosity, he slid the top drawer of the bedside table open. Scully’s folded pajamas, a pair of stockings still in their packaging, a makeup bag, a black journal, an extra clip. He touched the journal lightly, as if he could absorb her thoughts through osmosis.

And there it was again, that wisp of something in the corner of his eye. He slid the drawer shut and followed it out, moving slowly, carefully through the hallway. Past the tiny bathroom, past the faces of the dead, all the way to the base of the spiral staircase that led to the tower. He hesitated, just for a moment, and then began the climb, an unexplainable sense of dread burning hotter and hotter in his chest.

Hypatia was at his heels, trying to get in his way, blocking his path, whimpering. And then, without warning, her demeanor changed, and she began a low, persistent growl. Mulder glanced back at her. Her lips were peeled back to bare her long, white teeth, her body locked in a tense crouch. He stared at her a moment, palmed his gun, and continued.

There was a door at the top of the stairs. Mulder jiggled the handle with his free hand. Locked. Hypatia snarled and yipped, but didn’t advance. Mulder dug in his pocket for his lock pick. Just as he was about to withdraw it, there was a voice from the bottom of the staircase.

“Fox.”

Mulder jerked in surprise, almost drawing his gun up. Rhiannon stood, arms crossed, at the base of the staircase. The dog cowered behind her.

“That door is locked for a reason,” she said, frost edging her voice. Shame and suspicion crept up his neck. “This is my house. Please respect my boundaries.”

Mulder nodded and pressed his lips together in a small smile. “Bad habit. Sorry.”

Rhiannon retreated and he returned to his room, immediately trying Scully’s cell again. The call was cut short. He flung the phone hard down onto the bed, and dug into his duffel bag for his laptop.

Something wasn’t right.

#omens #txf fic #the x files fic

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the--regenerating--degenerate · 5 years ago

Text

Sol Invictus

Chapter six: The Grimm

The cockpit of the Juniper was quiet—crowded, but quiet. Jaune sat uneasily in the captain’s chair, a frown forming, his fingers flexing worriedly as he adjusted the ship’s trajectory as the Juniper left the red dust of Caviis IV behind them. Next to him was Ren, quietly contemplative, but fidgety, his arms tight, shoulders hunched as he checked local readouts and sensor sweeps. Nora sat in her traditional spot behind him, shockingly quiet as she held Pyrrha’s hand.

Normally the cockpit would be filled with Nora’s numerous questions, statements, and dozens of misremembered stories, which Ren would quietly correct when she paused for breath. Currently, her boundless energy seemed sapped and drained as she comforted Pyrrha.

If Jaune was a superstitious man, he would have taken a reserved Nora as an ill omen. He was more than sure that Ren already had, judging by the slight movements as Ren’s jaw worked the words of a silent void shanty.

Behind Jaune, Pyrrha sat with her head bowed, her free hand rubbing at her temple, every once in a while, she reached out to grasp the only trinket in the cockpit. It was a strange little thing. A necklace made from polished white beads, which Jaune swore were made of some unknown bone, and a single round charm of a circumpunct etched in gold relief. It was the only mark the Juniper bore from their mysterious compatriot, that marked the ship as Pyrrha’s home. Ren had his trinkets, charms, and fetishes. Nora had painted one or several of the rooms with bizarre, colourful shapes in strange, sometimes unnerving patterns. Even Jaune had knitted the rug in the mess and common room.

All Pyrrha had added was her necklace in the cockpit.

Every now and then she would reach out for it, bringing its bronze relief to her forehead, before letting it go to hang from the ceiling once again in the middle of the four.

Before them was the vast openness of space. Distant stars shined like tiny candle flames off in the distance against the cold hard black of the void.

It was a view which Jaune never stopped finding awe-inspiring. Despite him not being much of a believer, Jaune could always see why some still clung to those beliefs every time he looked out the viewing port. But the stars were dull today, overshadowed by worry. Pyrrha screamed as he had never heard from anyone before…

Then she vomited up blood.

Their passengers had disappeared to Ms. Snow’s quarters, where they remained held up. Pyrrha had slowly recovered after that; her cheeks, while still pale, were returning to a healthy hue. Though she still winced at the bright, sterile lights of the Juniper’s halls and so had kept her eyes closed.

“Pyrrha… What happened?” Jaune asked gently as he turned his high backed seat to look his friend in the eye.

Pyrrha opened a single emerald eye and tried to smile. Instead, she grimaced, the skin around her eyes and mouth tight. “It’s fine Jaune. Just a… just a migraine.”

“That was more than a migraine.” Nora was quiet, still clutching Pyrrha’s hand squeezing it reassuringly. “You took one look at that Ruby girl and suddenly you’re screaming! What happened? What did she do? Do I have to break her legs? I don’t want to, I like her! But if she’s hurting you…”

“Magic. Ill omens.” Ren nodded sagely, not taking his eyes from the ship’s instruments.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Pyrrha laughed, though Jaune could hear that it was tinged with pain, “The girl… she’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jaune sighed as he leaned back his chair creaking at the movement. He owed his life to her a dozen, a hundred times over. He had shared with her countless intimate thoughts and even some of his fears. She was his friend. But that being said, he actually knew very little about Pyrrha. He didn’t know where she was from, who her parents were, where she had learned to fight. Pyrrha Nikos was an enigma, a secret.

One that he was not privy to, despite their years together.

“Pyrrha? Please…” Jaune was insistent, his tone cracking ever so slightly. Never once had he seen Pyrrha taken down, so to see her screaming in pain…

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Pyrrha’s jaw was set, her tone resolute; she even pulled free her hand which Nora had clung so tightly to. Brusquely, she said, “What’s our course?”

Jaune wanted to protest the blatant drop and change in subject, but, sadly, he knew better. Once Pyrrha had set her mind to something, there was very little chance of changing.

Ren said nothing, though his shoulders had become tight and the slightest hint of frown forming at the edges of lips clearly displayed how he felt about how the conversation had turned. Frankly, Jaune agreed with him,.

Ren brought up the holographic map from his display console. The trip would be simple enough. One of Ms. Snow’s Faunus companions, Belladonna, he believed, had given them the coordinates for an unnamed planet right near the edge of Grimm Space. The route itself was also fairly trivial: a slight rounding path, using several planets and systems as bearings and markers. All told, a week or two from Caviis IV to the first destination.

Getting back to Atlas, on the other hand, was going to be a little bit more difficult. A direct route would not only lead them through the Go-Land Syndicate shipping lanes but also near the area of space where the Pirate Queen and the Muninn had claimed their hunting grounds.

Jaune was of the opinion that avoiding the fight was far more preferable than getting caught in a slugging match with either of them. Yes the Juniper was fast and carried more firepower than what most ships her size had a right to. But there was always that chance of something going wrong. Better to avoid them and live to spend the reward, then die in a ventilated, drifting wreck.

So the plan was to go far around, hugging the outskirts of Wild Space before making their turn towards Atlas. It would take more time, stretching it to three or four weeks for the Atlas run, but it was safer.

Pyrrha nodded and stood up as Jaune finished, her normally placid expression... thoughtful? Worried? Concerned? Maybe all three blended into one.

“Excellent.” Pyrrha smiled, “I will inform our passengers of the route and time table then.”

“Maybe we should let Ren or myself talk to them?” Jaune protested hesitantly, "considering what just happened.”

“Jaune.” Pyrrha’s tone was firm and sharp. “I’m fine. Let me do this.”

Not even waiting for an answer, Pyrrha grabbed the data slate and hurried out of the cockpit, leaving the rest of them alone.

Jaune frowned as he chewed his bottom lip. He had never seen Pyrrha like this. Never once in a firefight, or in a ship engagement or even the odd time the Juniper attracted the attention of the Grimm. To see someone who was always so calm in the face of danger, now becoming agitated at simple questions…

Nora quickly wiped her teal coloured eyes with the back of her hand. Pyrrha was her sister in everything but name. To have Pyrrha pull away from her like that would have cut her deep.

Jaune closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was sure Pyrrha would come back and apologise. Nora was too nice; she would instantly forgive Pyrrha, he was certain of that.

But the problem would remain: Pyrrha and her secrets.

“Don’t,” Ren warned as he punched in the coordinates for the first fold, his face inexpressive as it always was.

“What?” Jaune asked surprised.

"Don't," Ren repeated, "Pyrrha has her secrets. She'll tell us when she thinks the time is right. Pushing the matter won't help."

“Yeah….” Jaune sighed as he turned back towards the viewing screens. Ren was right: Pyrrha had her secrets. When she was ready she would tell them.

In front of him, the stars blurred and the Juniper lurched forward into the void.

----------

“What did you do to that girl!?” Weiss interrogated as she rounded on Ruby.

“I don’t know! I told you, I didn’t do anything,” Ruby cried, even as she shrank from Weiss cold anger.

Ruby didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know. Ruby had been so excited to meet someone like Nora who loved ships almost as much as she did and more importantly, Nora didn’t recoil when they talked. It was as though to her, Ruby was just a normal girl.

Then the Pyrrha woman showed up. Ruby had been prepared for the usual look of disgust, the shudder of someone being offered something vile. She hadn’t been prepared for was watching the woman scream in pain and then vomit blood onto the deck.

Weiss, Belladonna, and Yang had quickly taken her away to the quarters she and Weiss were sharing, and then questioned her for the past hour, thankfully uninterrupted by the Juniper’s crew. Ruby lowered her eyes in shame and worry. Hopefully, they wouldn’t throw them out.

“Ruby, you’re not in trouble… But that woman took one look at you and started screaming as though someone sawed her limb off.” Yang sat on the bed beside Ruby and wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. Her tone kind and gentle, “We just need to know in case they have questions.”

“I know Yang,” Ruby whispered as she laid her head against Yang’s shoulder. “I know… I just don’t know what happened. She took a look at me and then…”

Ruby shrugged.

“We’ll be lucky if they don’t throw us out the airlock after this,” Weiss muttered as she leaned up against the nauseatingly colourful wall.

Ruby hung her head. Had she cost them the galaxy? She tensed when she felt another hand slowly rub her back and the cot she sat on sag with the weight of another person sitting down.

“I’m sorry. It will be okay Ruby,” Weiss whispered softly, “We’ll think of something.”

“I doubt they’re going to throw us off,” Belladonna added from where she sat at the desk across the room, her face thoughtful. “We’ve been on board for over an hour and I can hear the Fold drive kicking in. I don’t think these are the type of people to send us for a bit of a void walk.”

“Yeah, besides we could kick their asses if they tried.” Ruby could hear Yang’s smirk and feel the muscle in her arm around her shoulders tighten at the thought of a fight.

“I don’t think we are going to have to go that far, Yang,” Weiss responded.

“But it might come to that,” Belladonna warned as she stood up from the chair. “We should be prepared for that possibility.”

“I really don’t want to fight them,” Ruby mumbled as she lifted her head from Yang’s shoulder. “Nora’s nice and the other’s were pretty welcoming too… for smugglers.”

“We might have to. We have a mission. If we fail, then billions die.” Belladonna marched across the room to look Ruby in the eyes with a hardened glare. “What’s four smugglers and nine brothers and sisters compared to a billion.”

Ruby winced at the bitterness in her tone. It hurt, but Belladonna was right. If they were forced to, the four of them would have to take the ship from the crew.

A knock at the door interrupted Ruby’s gloomy thoughts and the four looked at each other apprehensively. Yang pulled her pistol, taking a position beside the door. Belladonna followed her lead on the other side, readying her heavy boarding blade and light calibre pistol. Weiss checked that her pistol was clear in its holster as Ruby stood up and walked to the door.

The door slid open with a hiss and Ruby blinked in surprise as the blood-red haired woman who had been only recently screaming in pain and throwing up blood stood outside with an too calm and gentle smile.

“Hello again,” She greeted Ruby warmly.

“Uh…” Ruby stuttered then caught herself, “I’m sorry. Hello… umm.... I don’t think we were introduced? ‘Cause… well…”

The woman shook her head politely. “No, we weren’t and I’m sorry for that. I… took ill I’m afraid.”

“It looked a little more than ‘ill’,” Yang said dryly as she holstered her pistol and joined them at the door. “It looked like you were about to die. Sounded like it too.”

The woman’s practiced smile never faltered. “I’m sorry if it caused distress, which is why I’m here: to show that no harm was done and to deliver the itinerary from the captain.”

The woman offered a data slate, which Yang took with a nod of thanks and quickly skimmed through.

“And… I’m sorry I almost forgot.” The woman smiled again and held out her hand, “I’m Pyrrha Nikos. I handle security on the ship.”

Ruby took the hand and was surprised by how warm it was and the strength of her grip. A strange feeling of peace and safety seemed to radiate off of this strange woman. The aura of serenity, of peace, of warmth and safety was such an antithesis to Ruby’s own...it was almost disquieting.

Ruby hestinently offered her own smile in return. “Thank you Ms. Nikos. I’m Ruby Rose. That’s my sister Yang. The Faunus is Belladonna Zech Blake ist Dawn’s Hope and of course Ms. Weiss Snow.”

Pyrrha softly nodded her head in greeting, her lips tightening just ever so slightly as she quickly let go and tucked her hand behind her back. “A pleasure. As security, I must also inform you of the rules. Feel free to make use of the common area. The ship’s cockpit, engines, the armoury, and the weapon bay are off-limits unless accompanied by one of the crew. Feel free to keep your weapons, as I doubt you will be willing to turn them over.”

“Damn right we aren’t,” Yang muttered under her breath.

Whether or not Ms. Nikos had heard her, Ruby was unsure, as the crimson-haired woman continued.

“I must insist you keep them in your quarters. Taking them outside your rooms will be seen as a hostile action. I’m sorry but you must understand that these are simple precautions.”

Ruby nodded her head, waving a hand to shush Yang who clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“We understand. Thank you Ms. Nikos.”

“Please, call me Pyrrha,” Pyrrha said, as she raised her left hand in slight protest at the formality.

“Only if you call me Ruby,” she chirruped back.

Pyrrha grinned that same overly gentle and kind practiced smile and bowed her head. “That sounds grand. But I’m sorry to say, I must return to the cockpit.”

The door hissed closed, leaving the four of them to themselves.

“Well… that went better than I was expecting.” Yang admitted cheerily as she threw an arm around her sister. “Guess we had nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah…” Ruby wasn’t so sure. “Nothing to worry about.”

----------

Pyrrha locked the door to her room behind her as she leaned against it and let out a pained breath. Her hand, the one she had shaken with Ruby, felt as though the bones had been turned to splinters, the muscles torn and the skin peeled in long strips.

What Pyrrha had done was stupid:. but she wanted to be sure.

Wanted to be certain.

She lifted her hand to the dull light of her quarters and though she was prepared for what she might see, her breath still caught in her throat as Pyrrha choked down a moment of panic.

The skin of her hand was blacker than the void and dead.

Her fingers wouldn’t move; she could barely twist her wrist. Already the rot was setting in, eating away at the healthy olive-coloured flesh of her arm.

Pyrrha cursed under her breath as she slipped on her gauntlets to cover the damage that Ruby had unknowingly inflicted on her.

It had been stupid. More than stupid. Her reaction to their first meeting should have been enough, but Pyrrha was never one to do anything by half. She just needed the confirmation. While Pyrrha was sure that her hand would heal over time, another exposure like that, or the previous one in the hold could either cripple or kill her.

Pyrrha tried to close her hand and winced in pain. She would have to be careful for now.

Ruby wouldn’t be a problem. Pyrrha doubted the young girl actually knew what she was. The problem would be inducting her. It would have to be done in secret: lessons given alone, secrets, knowledge, rituals revealed. The crew, her compatriots, none of them were allowed to know. They couldn’t know.

She felt her heart drop and blinked away a tear

Jaune couldn’t know. That was always the hardest part.

Pyrrha glanced around her barren chambers. They were dull and lifeless, the walls a pale grey and there was nothing to mark that someone did live here, save for the sword and rifle hanging from their place on the wall.

She took a deep breath of stale, recycled air, and not for the first time nor the last time, cursed the burden, the destiny, that she had been sworn to.

But Pyrrha Nikos, Daughter and Secret Keeper of the Ordo Sol Invictus was never one to shirk duty. To avoid purpose. This was her destiny and thus she would carry it out.

No matter how lonely it became.

----------

Nine days since leaving Caviis IV

Yang yawned and stretched as she left her room. The holster at her hip felt uncomfortably empty. She missed the weight of Ember Celica at her side; that extra feeling of security her boarding pistol brought her.

But rules were rules.

Yang was sure she could take any of the Juniper crew on. However, getting into a fight on the ship was not conducive to her job of being a bodyguard for the Heir Apparent. Void be damned if Yang was going to give little Weiss-cream any reason to deduct from her reward.

Still, space travel made her anxious and just this side of ill-tempered. She hated it. The waiting. The feeling of being stuck in an inescapable tin can for hours, days, weeks at a time. Water strictly rationed to two twenty-second showers a day and food being little more than hardtack smeared with some grey and lumpy protein paste.

Well...at least it's better than reycke.

Thankfully the Juniper crew seemed more than willing to include them in their daily, time-burning activities.

Nora and Ruby would often wander off to some small part of the ship, no doubt rapid-firing asking and answering questions with each other at speeds only those two could seem to keep up with. Blake busied herself with a data slate filled with literally thousands of books ranging from literary fiction and pulpy fantasy to the classics of philosophy and history (as well as a shockingly large amount of erotic literature and images.)

Weiss kept to herself when Ruby was helping Nora.She and Ruby seemed to have grown rather fond of each other, and they would spend hours talking or playing data slate board games like Regicide or Mistrialian Go when Nora was busy with some other task. Sometimes, Weiss would stick close to Yang, but she knew that she was a little too crass for Weisscicle. Not that the two didn’t have some good talks now and then, but Weiss tended to lose interest once Yang got to the “then I punched him in the face” part of her stories.

All of them agreed that keeping Weiss’s identity a secret was for the best; the crew of the Juniper seemed to be a trustworthy and honest group, but there was no telling what they would do if they found out there was an Atlassian Noble on board. Much less the Heir Apparent. The thought of an easily extracted ransom might be too much for the Juniper crew.

The door to the common room-slash-mess opened and Yang found herself looking into a rather strange sight...

Around the polished plastisteel table sat Nora, Ruby, Weiss, Ren and Captain Arc. The former of the five were deep in a game of Spacer’s Run, an incredibly intricate and complicated card game revolving around buying, selling, trading cards to make hand over several rounds, while Arc… knitted?

Yang blinked. Then blinked again.

Yes, there was Arc, sitting there happily knitting, as he offered advice and pointers to both Weiss and Ruby as they were fairly new players.

“Not something I thought I would see,” Yang announced after a moment or two of pause. “You… uh, you knit a lot, Cap’n Arc?”

“There is a lot of dead time to fill in the void,” Jaune shrugged and said, “Need to do something to keep the mind from wandering too much.”

Yang opened her mouth, then closed it. It was sound advice, though Yang personally preferred old fashioned fisticuffs to sitting around and playing a card game or two. Or knitting for that manner.

Jaune marked off his knitting, setting it aside as Ren dealt another hand. While Nora weaved another story about one of the Juniper’s more eventful adventures.

“So we had picked up this cargo right? About a thousand or so crates.“

“More like a hundred,” Ren corrected calmly as he tossed in his last few bars of Aegisalt.

“And we were told under no circumstances were we ever to look into them under pain of horrific execution.”

“We were told just not to look into them.”

“So Cap’n does what he’s told and we’re making the run… and BOOM!” Nora threw her hands wide. “We run into over a dozen Protectorate heavy cruisers and a battlecruiser!”

“It was a single light-cruiser and two frigates actually,” Ren, again corrected as he bought a card after checking his hand.

Yang smirked as Weiss seemed to scowl and Ruby leaned in closer at every word.

“So the Cap’n pulls our girl into a hard bank and though the Juniper is fast, we’re outgunned, we’re dodging shots and missiles and torpedoes… when the Cap’n gets this idea. He runs us into an asteroid field, shuts down all power, runs us cold, then sends a little message to the Blood Pact Raiders. This was a gang who had some serious beef with us and Jaune tells them…”

Nora dropped her voice an octave. “Hey Blood Pact! You stink like some dirt sucking slag faces… Come get us we’re here.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Jaune commented idly, the corners of his mouth ticking up.

“And so the Blood Pact shows up,” Nora continued to ignore the peanut gallery, “and runs into Procs! So while the Blood Pact is getting slaughtered by the Procs, we managed to slip through around to escape and finish the run!”

“Best part of that run? Guess what was in the boxes?” Jaune teased as he set his knitting aside.

“Weapons? Medicine? Drugs? Cash?” Yang listed off a number of things the pirates tended to smuggle.

Jaune grinned. “Cheese.”

The table fell to laughing. Even stuck up Weiss-cream cracked a smile.

It was strange to see Ruby snort and laugh with the rest of the crew, causing the rest to laugh even louder along with her. It made Yang smile all the more to see how quickly the Juniper’s crew had accepted Ruby. Sadly there was, of course, the period right after take off when Jaune and Ren had avoided Ruby like a plague, and the mysterious Pyrrha woman was only rarely seen.

But much to Yang's surprise, Jaune and Ren had slowly warmed up to Ruby. Whether it was because Weiss was a constant companion, Ruby’s own seemingly infinite cheerfulness, or because they were all stuck in this tin-can and were pushing day nine, Yang wasn’t entirely sure why. But she was thankful that the others had come to accept Ruby.

“Well…” Jaune yawned as he stood up and stretched, “I should go relieve Pyrrha. We’re going to be dropping out of the Fold soon. Should just be one la...”

He was cut off as alarms shrieked and the ship shuddered into real space. All of them were thrown to the ground, heads cracking on the deck plating and furniture.

“Jaune.” Pyrrha’s voice came over the intercom, her tone utterly calm and collected. That woman seemed to be unflappable. “We have Grimm.”

“Shit.” Jaune spat as he leapt to his feet and raced to the cockpit.

Ren helped Weiss to her feet, while Nora pushed Ruby and Yang back towards their rooms. Yang had to admit she was taken aback by Nora’s sheer brawn as she was shoved out into the hall.

Going to have to have an arm-wrestling match with her once this Grimm business is done. Yang licked the top of her lip as she allowed herself to be physically removed by the engineer.

“What can we do?” Ruby called, as she rushed to join the two.

“Get into your rooms and bar the doors,” Ren ordered calmly as he moved down the hall to the armoury.

“Fuck that.” Yang grinned savagely. Her blood was up. “Give me a gun. I haven’t shot something in a long time.”

“Yeah!” Ruby cheered, “We can help!”

“We’re not helpless, you know,” Weiss pointedly added as she followed them down the hallway.

“I have no doubt that you aren’t helpless, but you are our passengers. We must ensure your safety,” Ren answered patiently, his eyes half-lidded as though the impending danger of a Grimm boarding action was still a rather trivial concern

“You're going to need more than just yourself and Nora,” Yang countered as she shook off Nora’s guiding hand, “You can use us.”

Ren was about to reply when Jaune came over the intercom.

“Ren, lock everything down… I don’t know where they came from but there’s a whole flock of Griffins and at least two Nevermore Grandis. They must have been what pulled us from the Fold. Pyrrha’s coming down to help with defenses.”

Ren let out an irritated breath. “Fine. But you listen to Pyrrha, Nora and myself, understood?”

Yang smashed her fists together, “You got it chief.”

-------

Yang howled as her pistol roared. Three shots hit centre mass on the Griffon who had just phased through the armour plating of the ship. Its inky flesh exploded out in a mess of black viscera, as it howled in pain spreading its wings and rearing up on its back legs. Its white bone mask and four crimson eyes, filled with a primordial hatred and hunger, stared hungrily back at her.

The Grimm screeched and leapt at her, beak wide open to rip and tear into her flesh. Yang ducked and brought the pistol underneath its head and fired. The Grimm’s head detonated as the heavy calibre round tore into what should have been its brainpan and exploded, showering the area with bits of bone and midnight purple blood.

Blood the colour of shadows.

Beside her, Nora grunted as she caught a claw with her shotgun. With her own roar, she twisted it down and threw it off balance, firing two rounds into its bone mask, shattering it like glass. She left it bleeding on the floor, heavily injured and dying.

Nora yelled triumphantly as she then slammed the butt of her gun into the head of the Griffon, putting it out of its misery with a sickening crack.

Behind them, another was gunned down by concentrated fire from Weiss and Ren. Even as they brought three Griffons down, another four phased into the ship, screeching their hunger for the crew.

Yang shuddered at the inhuman, evil sound. She squeezed the trigger rapidly, firing several more explosive shots into the leader, who fell to the floor with massive chunks of its body splattering against the hall. She had fired until her pistol ran dry.

“Void take it all.” Yang spat, as she pistol-whipped one more, caving its skull in with the grip of Ember Celica. “How many of these things are there?”

A shadow danced around her as Blake rammed her heavy boarding blade into its sagging mouth and then down its flank, parting shadow flesh and leaving the creature to wither and die. Blake danced away, a small smirk of satisfaction as she ducked under another swipe. Coming back up, Blake brought Gambol Shroud down onto the neck of another Griffon, before leaping back elegantly as Nora and Yang advanced unleashing a cascade of shots into its still twitching form.

The ship shook; Yang felt the familiar thrum of the magnetic charge in the back of her teeth as the Juniper lashed out in anger. Her eyes widened; the charge was akin to ones that powered the guns they mounted on the Muninn. A ship almost four times the size of the Juniper.

Guess they weren’t lying about that. Yang thought savagely. She wasn’t sure what Captain Arc was aiming at, but as she slamed a new magazine home, she sure as hell hoped he hit the fucking thing.

“Hold them off a little longer!” Jaune’s panicked voice shouted over the coms. “One of the Nevermores is dead, but we got three more...Damnit.”

The link cut out.

Yang scoffed and fired as more Griffons poured through the ship’s hull, filling the Juniper with a screeching mass of shadowy flesh, white bone masks, and hateful, hungry eyes.

“Easy for him to say. Come on you ugly pieces of shit!” Yang roared in challenge quickly reloading before she rushed into the middle of them, firing wildly and striking out with heavy, hammering blows that left the inhuman malice of the Grimm staggering.

They just had to hold on a little longer.

----------

Ruby wasn’t exactly sure how she got here. She originally had planned to be with Weiss and Yang guarding the engines and the point defense weapon bay. Instead, she had been roped into holding the hall to the cockpit with Pyrrha as Griffons phased into existence in front of them.

She aimed for their eyes and mouth. Crescent Rose barked in a steady staccato as she fired a short burst of fire down the hall, expertly hitting her targets. Beside her, Pyrrha twirled her sword in an easy flourish in her left hand. Her right was encased in a bronze-coloured gauntlet as she softly chanted an oddly soothing and peaceful song that Ruby did not know the origins of.

Every now and then, a screeching Griffon would get to close, and Pyrrha would react with inhuman speed and deadly grace. She cut each Grimm down with the spectacular ease of the dancers she had once glimpsed on a holovid. But in person, in fighting, Ruby had never seen anything like it.

Usually, a Grimm, even small ones like Griffons, were tough bastards to put down, often needing half a magazine to put down. Pyrrha, it seemed, just sliced through them.

A perfect strike.

A breathtaking cut.

And the monsters instantly went down, night-red blood glistening on the deck.

Every now and then Ruby thought she saw a brief flash of golden light, but dismissed it. She tensed, getting ready to aim at the next Griffon that phased in. It was probably just the muzzle flash of her rifle.

It seemed like hours the two held the hall that line to the cockpit. They gunned and cut down every demon that came.

“How… How many more?” Ruby panted, as she slid another magazine into her rifle. “I’m running really low on ammo.”

“It does not matter,” Pyrrha’s voice did not waver, she seemed not even to be tired, “We must hold them. If they get to Jaune, then we all die.”

“Cheery thought,” Ruby quipped back as fired another burst down the hall, catching a Griffon who had just phased into existence full in the face with a three round burst.

The air buzzed with electrical discharge. Ruby felt her stomach plummet and the back of her teeth vibrate as the Juniper rocked with the discharge of her primary gun.

“Last Nevermore down!” Jaune crackled to life over the coms, his voice filled with excitement “I’m getting ready to Fold. On my mark in three… two… one… Mark!”

Beneath her feet, Ruby could feel the thrum of energy as the Juniper launched forward into the Fold. They escaped the main horde of Grimm. Ruby could hear the sounds of fighting lighting up in the distance from the few Grimm still remaining as her friends cleared the ship. She closed her eyes and wiped the sweat off her forehead with a grin.

Suddenly, a Griffon charged her, barreling down the hall. Her eyes popped open as it screeched in rage and seethed hatred.

Pyrrha moved to intercept …

And missed.

Ruby’s eyes widened and her grip briefly slipped her rifle as she watched the red-haired woman being battered aside, crashing against the wall and falling to the floor in a heap.

Ruby raised her rifle steadying her shaking hands. Even if she hit, the Griffon could take the shots and still tear her to pieces.

She fired and closed her eyes, ready to feel her flesh being ripped from her bones by its needle-sharp teeth.

Her heart pounded. Seconds ticked by… and there was nothing.

No claws, no tearing, no biting. No pain as her life was ripped from her body by a monster.

Even the screeching had stopped, save for the one or two in the aft that were quickly put down by Yang and the others.

Ruby slowly opened her eyes… The Griffon was dead. The beast was dead. Its jaw loose, its beak hung open. Its tongue shrivelled and its eyes, once lit brightly with malice and hunger, were dull and empty, as though the anger had simply melted away. Its torn, shredded wings lay out stretched and its clawed for legs crumpled underneath it.

It had died not even two feet in front of her. With no wound to speak of.

She looked up and right into the knowing emerald gaze of Pyrrha Nikos.

#RWBY #rwby fanfic #Ruby #Yang #Blake #Weiss #Sol Invictus

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20thcentutygeek · 5 years ago

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5 Comics that would make GREAT TV shows

Mainstream premium TV shows are getting more genre based all the time. More than that they are become weirder, more adult and more ambitious. HBO has been leading the charge with Game of Thrones and West World, but we have had a bevy more. We now live in a world with Shows like Preacher, The Boys, American Gods and Good Omens, and that’s just from Amazon Prime. Throw in The Handmaids tale, Stranger Things, Legion as well shows coming soon like The Witcher, Sandman, Watchmen and His Dark Materials and you have a sea of content that will keep even the most discerning nerd happy. However, there is still so much great source material to be mined that would make great TV shows.

Here is our top 5 Comics that would make great TV shows:

Transmetropolitan (Writer: Warren Ellis / Primary Artist: Darick Robinson / Running 1997 - 2002). Ellis doesn’t have the most optimistic opinion of the future. He explores where we are and where we’re going as well as almost all of our faults in this 60 issue satire. The story centres around Spider Jerusalem, a future gonzo journalist or Ellis by way of Bill Hicks and Hunter S. Thompson. He’s angry about pretty much everything and he wants to expose the hypocrisy of the world. The overarching story becomes the sage of Spider vs. the person he sees as the embodiment of what is wrong, politician and eventual president, The Smiler.

The future cyber punk world is brought to life by the excellent art of Darick Robertson. It captures the essence of the zany, dirty, corrupt and relevant world. This is another piece of sci-fi that becomes more relevant as time goes by. The politics of the book are reflective of the time, but the corruption runs deep and I’m sure Spider would role his eyes in a post Trump world, shaking his head at the rhetoric and chest beating on both sides of the isle.

The world needs a live action Spider Jerusalem.

Planetary (Writer: Warren Ellis / Primary Artist: John Cassidy / Running 1998 - 2000). Where Transmetropolitan is a dark cynical Ellis, Planetary is his desire to explore the world of conspiracies and secret organisations. It’s centres round a mystery that runs through the ,majority the 27 issues, while many of the issues are actually one and done stories. The first arc introduces a world that is alive with analogues of the Fantastic Four, Godzilla and Doc Savage. It’s loaded with homages and Easter eggs, without ever being pandering or overly referential.

The titular Planetary, is a secret group that collects information of the weird history of the world. They start as bystanders and observers but become more entwined in the events at the story progresses.

Again Ellis is partnered with the perfect artist for the material, John Cassaday. His detailed, shadow filled art wonderfully fills the world with character and life. His art is measured for each scene. The intimate feels character driven and focused, while his splash pages are awash with crazy details. It’s a feast to enjoy on every page.

The potential to expand this and explore so many ideas, not just sci-fi but all genres and ideologies, world be amazing. This is an untapped well of potential that could rival the best cutting edge show.

The Invisibles (Writer: Grant Morrison/ Primary Artists: Steve Yeowell, Chris Western, Philip Bond / Running 1994 - 2000). We’ve recently had Doom Patrol from DC which used many of the ideas from Morrison’s run in the 90s. It’s weird, surreal and challenging while still being an action adventure. We’ve also had Legion which has challenged the reality and mental state of a primary character. These shows challenge the viewer to accept a lot of absurd things. This could be kicked up a gear in a live action take of The Invisibles. A group of reality rejects that are fighting an inter-dimensional war, possibly. It’s twisty, violent and weird in the best possible way. Morrison used this comic as a meta commentary and source of chaos magic for his life (seriously, check out the story of how he caught an illness he had given the character King Mob in the book, only to be cured when he cured King Mob in the comic).

The art in the book is provided by several artists across the volumes. Each brings something different to the series but all bring Morrison’s world to page, realising some bizarre stuff that has been mimicking to never bettered since.

This is one of those comics that has been placed on the ‘unfilmable’ pile. However, I’m convinced that the right team could produce something that would challenge viewers with its content, and how we interact with TV shows and it’s story lines.

Saga (Writer: Brian K Vaughn / Primary Artist: Fiona Staples / Running 2012 - on going) The others on this list are loaded with adventure, violence, intrigue and imagination but Saga brings those and heart. Primarily the story of a couple, warriors from opposing sides in an intergalactic war, and how they struggle to raise their child and settle to start their family. It grows from there to become an epic story spanning planets and years, and doesn’t scrimp of the sci-fi weirdness.

The expansive story telling is rounded out by Fiona Staples art. Staples has a realistic style which captures emotion and expression perfectly. Many of the characters have human faces and her style captures the nuances of emotions and relationships. However, it also means that when alien and weird elements are introduced they stand out but never feel cartoonish. Vaughn May have thought up the world but Staples realised it.

This would work excellently on TV as a character driven series. The comic forms a great foundation to work from, however Vaughn and Staples have created such a rich and textured world that more stories could be explored. This could be as complex as Game of Thrones and as much of a sci fi fantasy staple as Star Wars.

American Vampire (Writer: Scott Snyder / Artist: Rafael Albuquerque / Running 2010 - on going) The stereotype of the classic vampire is Eastern European nobility, usually looking like Bela Lugosi. Scott Snyder decided to examine the idea of what world happen if vampires were more influenced by the country they are from, what would be the American Vampire? The series starts in the old west and progresses through the 20th Century following the lives of several key vampires, providing an alternate take on some key events. However this isn’t a stale history lesson, Snyder brings the horror and the gore in spades. This idea and story is realised on the page with the art of Rafael Albuquerque. His scratchy gothic art style balances the detail and abstract to provide an perfect vision of this horrific under world, just a step away from the norm.

Being based around an alternate take on real history this story could explore so much. Yes, this would be a kick ass vampire horror tale, but it could also be used as an analogue to comment on modern issues; the immigrant experience, bigotry, mental illness etc. The potential for this show is awesome.

#Comics #tv #Superheroes #Horror #scifi #Pop Culture

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