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diamaker-moon · 3 years ago

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Moving Forward - Chapter 4

Chapter Four

First day and investigations

—————

"Haven't you heard?" She asked back in a cold tone.

"Heard what?"

"You're class... drove Marinette to transfer schools. All because of you guys." She said in an icy tone before passing by him then rest left him in the locker room— gaping.

— previous chapter... —

Adrien was stunned.

'Marinette transferred schools?! When did that happen?!'

He stood there for a few minutes before fishing up his phone and texted Marinette, he waited for a reply, but nothing came. He came back to his classroom in a daze.

He didn't bother sharing the information with anyone, thinking that Lila might steal the spotlight again. And besides, he was too busy thinking why Marinette needed to transfer, and why she didn't inform him— her friend.

Nino was worried for his best bro. Adrien barely spoke throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Marinette was given a few hours in the morning to roam and get acquainted inside campus grounds. She was joined by Allegra, who happily toured her and introduce her as well to every student they pass by.

She was enjoying her time in Jeanne.

But behind all the happiness she was feeling at the moment, there's a huge responsibility whispering in her ear. The Cat Miraculous is currently in camouflage mode in her right ring finger as a rose gold ring. She needed to find either a new permanent cat holder or a temporary one. Part of her wants to trust her dormmates. She couldn't trust her temporary heroes anymore, aside from Viperion and Ryuko.

She could imagine Allan using the Turtle miraculous since he is already protective of his friends. She was stuck between Claude and Allegra for the Fox miraculous.

Claude is a theatre kid, he can imagine a lot of things and that can help during battles but he's more of a fighter than hiding in the shadows. Allegra, however, can do the opposite.

But for now, her main priority is to find a cat holder, even if it has to be temporary. It was a good thing that she had bought a mini fridge for Plagg's camembert stash and stored it in her room or else her dormmates might think she's a cheese hoarder!

All the teachers and students in Jeanne were very welcoming. Her classmates were friendly to her, and her teachers are fair educators. When there is a disturbance in the class, they reprimand both students not only one, and Marinette noticed that there's no 'model student' treatment like the one she had in Dupont.

It was lunchtime, she and her dormmates decided to eat in a nearby restaurant. She missed how she just goes home and eats lunch in her home then sometimes returns with a bag of pastries as snacks. She missed her home and her parents' bakery.

Marinette and Allegra were busy chatting about Marinette's current state in Jeanne, while Claude and Allan are busy bickerings on who will win if Batman and Iron Man fought.

Félix just observed them, and from time to time read on his book.

None of them saw a blonde looking at them with a melancholic look. The blonde smiled bitterly before they left the restaurant.

"Are you all done? Lunchtime is almost up." Félix announced.

The other four nodded and paid for their meal, then walked back to school.

Marinette wants to thank her luck and Tikki, for not having any Akuma throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Upon returning to the dorm, she went inside her bathroom and stared at the mirror. She was looking at her reflection, but somehow it felt unfamiliar to her.

The girl in the mirror, has her hair down, wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a black blazer that had red accents and trimming, the school crest sewed on top of the front pocket and a red tie. Paired with it is a plaid red, white and black skirt that reaches up to her mid-thighs, she also wore black knee-high socks and strapped two-inched heels.

She moved her hair on the right side a bit and saw her signature black stud earrings which are actually the camouflaged ladybug's miraculous earrings, then the rose gold cat miraculous on her right hand that moved her hair.

It was a huge change.

She was used to seeing her previous look since Dupont doesn't require school uniforms but Jeanne does.

Marinette sighed then stripped out of her uniform to take a short shower.

Once she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing light pink high-waisted shorts, a white halter-top with her signature flower design, then a sheer black cardigan.

She turned the soundproofing on then locked her bedroom door before she let the kwamis out of the miracle box.

"Did you have fun on your first day, Marinette?" Tikki asked.

Marinette hummed before answering. "Yeah. It was quite strange to see all the students wear the same outfit, but everyone was very welcoming. Quite different in Dupont. And there were no Akuma attacks today!"

Tikki smiled at her holder. The kwami thought that the girl deserves it. She needed a new environment away from the previous one since it was toxic.

Marinette was skimming through the Grimoire, and the kwamis knew not to be close enough since it is prohibited to know about the knowledge inside the book.

Shadowmoth. A unified Butterfly and Peacock miraculous holder.

Hawkmoth was becoming stronger, and Marinette needed to be ten steps ahead of him. She cannot use her previous temporary heroes.

Rena Rouge, Carapace, Pegasus and Roi Singe betrayed her in their civilian lives, unknowingly. She cannot trust them in battle, even if they were efficient heroes.

She was alone at the moment. No temporary allies, and no partner.

But she might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is.

She looked at her bulletin board that is hanged on the wall.

If anyone ever saw the board, they might think she is a detective, due to having a map of Paris wide opened, with marks, sticky notes, red strings, etc.

She closed the book before putting on a sleeve cover for the book then plainly placed it on her desk together with a stack of books.

"Marinette?"

She hummed before looking at her left seeing the kwamis stare at her.

"We finally might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is. Why does he need to change his name? The hawkmoth is already a stupid name, but he had to change it to Shadowmoth! Ugh!"

The kwamis laughed at their guardian's frustrations.

"Who do you suspect, Master?" Wayzz asked.

"Plagg, do you know where your previous holder got the book and tablet?" She asked the cat kwami who's busy eating a wheel of Camembert on top of her chaise.

Plagg looked to her before swallowing the rest of the whole wheel then answered.

"In his deadbeat of a father's office. That's where we found the book first, inside a safe behind her mother's painting."

Marinette hummed.

She had valid points at the moment to suspect him. And no one can prevent her from suspecting the fashion guru like before when she had Chat Noir as her partner. He was adamant that the guru isn't Hawkmoth, but now she understood. The man was his father. If the fashion guru is Hawkmoth, he'll be losing both his Mother and Father.

Something clicked in her mind. The alternate reality that she prevented: Chat Blanc.

She gasped. Then hurriedly grabbed her notebook that has all her points and suspect list with a list of reasons. She flipped the pages towards Gabriel Agreste's page.

Possible Suspect: Gabriel Agreste

Affliation: Fashion Designer

Relationships:

◈ Emilie Agreste (Wife)

◈ Adrien Agreste (Son)

◈ Nathalie Sancoeur (Assistant)

Reasons why suspected?

- Mme Agreste has been gone for three years, can use the ultimate power to wish her back.

- Secluded from the outside world.

- Assitant is very devoted, can possibly be the ally— Mayura.

- Another possible ally— Lila Rossi. Got akumatized after leaving from the first bathroom confrontation looking all smug, and has been akumatized repeatedly. Also might be involved with the Heroe's day illusion of Dark 'Ladybug'.

- Akumatized when suspected before. Hypothesis: possibly to divert attention?

- Very attentive and tried to reach for earrings and ring before during 'The Collector' after getting de-akumatized...

- Briefly saw an intrigue look on his face when he saw Chloé open a miraculous box in public.

- Has the Grimoire. Now, he also had Master Fu's tablet (stolen possibly during Miracle Queen battle)

-Theory: Chat Blanc said that Hawkmoth was a reason why the alternate timeline was destroyed by Blanc, Marinette is almost akumatized before (in original timeline), is it possible that in that timeline, Hawkmoth tried to akumatize Marinette then accidentally finds out Chat Noir's identity, leading up to a possible confrontation? It is quite hard to choose between a family relative and a relationship...

Marinette observed the page. If she was impulsive, she'd probably march up to the Agreste Mansion, but if her possible suspect is truly a villain, she cannot impulsively attack since he had two miraculouses that can create an Akuma and a Sentimonster.

She was a tactician. She always thinks about how she can use her lucky charm, and mostly in the most complex ways on how to use it.

The only thing she can do for a while is observing the Older Agreste.

"It's decided then," She looked at the kwamis then continued her sentence.

"We're going on a stake-out outside the Agreste Mansion, and possibly the inside as well. But that mansion is heavily guarded with cameras! How am I going to enter it?!"

She annoyingly said the huffed.

"Kwamis can help with the cameras and if there are alarms!" Trixx reasoned.

"Hmm... That can be useful... But how am I going to get an inside look? If there's a hidden safe behind Mme Agreste's painting in M. Agreste's atelier, I need an entrance."

Plagg thought about it before gasping.

"I can look around! I've been in the mansion for a long time, I can search around that room to see any open windows or entrance!"

Marinette actually smiled at that statement, she scratches Plagg behind one of his ears which made the cat kwami purr in happiness.

"Looks like someone earned a prize!"

The kwamis laughed in seeing the stubborn cat kwami happily purring due to the young guardian scratching him. Marinette needed a thorough plan. A plan to look around M. Agreste's atelier without being detected. And if she is lucky maybe retrieve one of the missing miraculous.

—————

"Nathalie!"

The woman flinched before she composed herself and made her way towards her boss's atelier with a tablet in one hand.

"Yes, M. Agreste?"

The man was seething, and she didn't know why. The last time she saw him like this was when they caught Adrien taking the miraculous book to school.

"Where's the Grimoire and the tablet?"

Nathalie blinked. "It's in your hands Monsier. Or maybe safely hidden in the safe."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "The book and the tablet is missing. I check the cameras, Adrien got it again, but when I asked for it back, he said you had it."

"I'm sorry, M. Agreste, but I didn't even know that it was in Adrien's possessions. I'll look around the mansion, maybe Adrien misplaced it, I'll also ask him to remember where he left it."

Gabriel nodded and dismissed her.

Inside Nathalie's head, it was trouble. They were fortunate to steal the previous Guardian's tablet that has a translated version of the book, to fix the Peacock miraculous. They had also found a translated pages about the power-ups but we haven't figure out what it actually means. They also don't have a backup copy of the translated pages!

"Adrien? Adrien."

Nathalie knocked on the younger Agreste's door. She heard a faint 'wait, Nathalie!'. Soon the door opened and revealed a dishevelled Adrien who was currently drying his hair with a towel.

"Yes, Nathalie?"

"I heard from your Father that you had the book and tablet he's looking for. Do you remember where you left it?" She said and noticed how Adrien paled.

"I was only looking at it, I left it on my desk but the next morning it was gone. I figured that you might've found it on the desk and took it back to Father... That's the only place I left it before going to bed."

She observes the young boy and hummed. She instructed Adrien to try and look around thinking that it might've been misplaced.

'I have a bad feeling about this. It's already bad that it's missing, but if my theory is right that it is in Ladybug's possession, we might be at a disadvantage.'

Chapter 3 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 5

#miraculousladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #movingforward #adrien agreste #class salt

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years ago

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COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 4 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

⚠️: s3 mike wheeler, y/n and mike angst. more google translate. the reader eating ice cream [if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy-free xp], mama steve loving and worrying about his children, his little henderson ducklings especially 🥰 *heavy sigh* oh yeah, kidnapping and more possible allegory to r*pe :( as usual, a marker will be placed but it plays till the end of the chapter so you only need one

🔑: y/f/o = your favorite [ice cream] order

📝: idk if the tip seems small or not but either way keep in mind this was the eighties so inflation hadn't gotten quite as bad yet. As far as the Mike stuff, I know he wasn't being possessive, he was just worried she would get caught and taken away or worse but also he handled it badly, and then everything else in this chapter just kinda rode that angsty bad decision train outta here lmao.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"если действовать осторожно... неделя длинная. серебряный--"

Robin pauses her pacing momentarily to point at the tape Dustin has in his hands.

"Wait, that last part, just one more time,"

The sounds of the wires hissing as they rewind fill Robin's thoughtful silence.

"если действовать осторожно... неделя--"

"Okay, that word!" She says, and Dustin quickly presses pause. "Um... it's pronounced... 'dly-nna-ya.'"

"'Dly-nna-ya'" Dustin repeats, nodding excitedly.

"Which is spelled—"

"-D... D, D, D..." Dustin mutters, springing up from his seat, scurrying towards the whiteboard as Robin grabs the book. "The— The chair! The chair-looking thingy!" He says, pointing to the Russian 'д'.

"Yeah, okay," Robin mutters excitedly, hurriedly scribbling into their notes.

The glass partition swings open with a loud clang alerting Steve at the counter.

"We've got our first sentence,"

"Oh, seriously?" He asks, turning around with two orders in his hands.

"Yeah," Robin nods. She drops her voice into a lower pitch and imitates a Russian accent. "The veek is longh,"

Steve's face falls. "Well, that's thrilling,"

"I know, but," she shrugs. "Progress."

With that, she retreats into the window and slides the door close leaving Steve to return to his ice cream slinging duties.

"Okay, here you go. You got uh, a vanilla with sprinkles and extra whipped cream and one y/f/o,"

Steve hands off the rest of the orders to El and Y/n who gladly take them. Max stood next to them, digging into the order she had already been handed. She only comes up to say 'thanks' in near sync with her friends.

"Wait a second," he says, a thoughtful look falling over his face as he frowns at El. "Are even allowed to be here?"

The girls freeze, once again pausing to share a knowing look with growing ice cream-mustached smiles and giggle. In a hurry, the three of them scurry for the door. Y/n nearly makes it before coming to a skidding halt that leaves her bouncing on one foot as she catches her balance. She runs back to the counter with a mischievous smile and a dollar in hand.

Steve watches confused as she tucks the dollar away in the tip jar, and sends him what he finds to be a childish wink.

"Keep this quiet?" She asks, and he almost laughs. But he could tell she was all too serious. "Also this is your tip! Thanks, Steve,"

Steve watches utterly baffled as she turns on her heel and makes a break for the girls waiting just outside and around the corner.

"Okay?" He says, beginning to trail off. "Wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway?"

She's nearly out the door when he realizes what her being here means. He hopes it's not too late to call after her.

"Hey, wait a sec!"

Thankfully, she hears him and turns back around. He motions her forward and while confused, she ultimately complies.

"Hey, uh, does Dustin know you're here?"

Y/n tilts her head as she thinks about it then shrugs.

"I'm not sure, why?" She asks, taking a lick of her ice cream.

Steve hooks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the window but he pauses when he realizes it's better she doesn't know what he's doing here. He quickly plays it off and plants both hands on the counter to lean against it.

"I don't, uh— It's just that he came by earlier and he seemed pretty down about last night,"

Y/n's shoulders slumped immediately, her eyes widening a little.

"He did?" She winced, nibbling nervously on her lip as she looked guiltily at her ice cream. And in doing so, any budding feeling of anger and protectiveness vanishes in Steve. "It's just, he wasn't there when I left and I assumed he went with the guys to Mike's."

With the same, guilty look in her eyes, Y/n glanced over her shoulder at her waiting friends and Steve instantly regretted bringing it up. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Look, it's—"

"If he comes back, will you tell him I'm sorry?" She laughed a little, very sheepishly. "That we can guilt Mom off the TV again so we can a have a monster movie night like we used to, or something?"

In that moment Steve decides not to be honest with her and tell her he's probably still too upset for that, he just doesn't have to heart to. Nor does Steve have the guts to say it wouldn't matter anyway, that he's right in the back room decoding a top-secret Russian communication. So instead, he forces his lips into a firm line that was supposed to be a smile and nods.

"Sure thing, kid,"

She perks a little. "Thanks, Steve. I'll see ya later,"

"Alright, take care," he straightens from the counter, watching as she retreats back out of the shop. He sighs again, almost hating how soft and protective he's become, and calls after her, nodding discretely in El's direction. It all comes out in the form of annoyance, though, naturally. "And don't be stupid, alright?"

Y/n smiles in response and returns to her friends. Together, the three of them disappear into the crowd.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

One of many sets of double doors swing open as Y/n, El, and Max step back out into the sunlight.

Despite their every desires to keep their special day at the mall going, the three girls knew the bus back into town was leaving shortly. Y/n takes another quick and frantic lick of her fastly melting ice cream as Max turns to El and gestures to her strawberry ice cream cone.

"Wanna trade?"

El responds with a giggle and eagerly trades off her vanilla cone for strawberry.

"No... fair," Y/n grumbles, nearly attacking her ice cream as it turns to a puddle before her eyes. She spares only a single second glare enviously at their still freshly frozen cones while she has spent between licks.

"You're not," lick. "making your," lick. "ice cr━ shit!" two licks. "melt."

The girls giggle again, wholeheartedly amused by the sight before them.

"Shut up," another lick.

"That's ridiculous," came a nearby, all too familiar whine. "Why can't I just—"

Max's face falls into a glower, pulling Y/n and El into a stop next to her. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me."

Just across the concrete entrance, fumbling to separate their bikes from the bike stands were Mike, Lucas, and Will.

Forgetting her melting ice cream momentarily, Y/n takes a moment to sigh at the ground when she realizes whatever is about to pass, will be far from good.

"—haven't got that much," Lucas says.

"Okay, what if we split it?"

"Split it with what? Does that even make sense?"

Two of the three boys continue to bicker, completely unaware of the three angry figures making their way towards them. More specifically, two angry figures and one slightly disgusted one who tosses out her nearly finished ice cream cone and the napkin she used to wipe her hands off with in the trash cans they all pass.

"Isn't this a nice surprise?" Max asks, plastering on a smirk as the three boys and their bikes come to a halt before them.

Mike's face pales when he realizes Max had caught him, and even more so when he realizes El is with her. His bike crashes to the ground, forgotten as he gapes at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." She answers matter-of-factly, her icy stare never once wavering.

"This is her new style," Max says, eyeing him carefully. "What do you think?"

"What's wrong with you?" He spits, gesturing to El. "You know she's not allowed to be here."

"What is she, your little pet?" Max fires back.

"Yeah. Am I your pet?" El asks.

"What? No!"

"Mike, she needed this," Y/n says. "Besides, you lied to her! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here either."

Mike finally turns his wild gaze to Y/n, utterly baffled at the stance she was taking.

"Are you kidding me?" He gawks, ignoring her eye roll. "You of all people should know about keeping her a secret,"

Y/n hotly takes a threatening step forward. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you would know, you're good at hiding her,"

Everyone inched closer, apart from El who was seething at Mike. Y/n, on the other hand, scoffs loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration.

"You said you were over that!"

"Yeah, well, guess I'm not,"

She looked around quickly, her voice falling into a whispered hiss. "What, so I should be locked up all day, too?"

"Maybe!" Mike said, instantly feeling guilty.

"Mike!" Will snaps, stepping forward another few inches. And so did El, her shoulder subconsciously shielding Y/n. Shielding her from, Mike, or Mike from her, she wasn't sure.

But she knew she was livid. And hurt.

Mike sighs, putting his face into his hands and running them tiredly over his face.

"I'm sorry, that was over the line," he sighs, sounding embarrassed.

"-You're damn right it was," Y/n snapped.

"But that doesn't change the fact that she really can't be here," he corrects himself, looking El in the eye carefully. "You can't be here. It's not safe,"

"I can take care of myself," El says.

"I mean," Mike sighs again, frustrated as he trips over his own words. "you and a lot of other people could be in danger if anybody starts asking questions. I just care about you, alright? And I don't want anything to happen to you, not again,"

El shakes her head, all visible anger melting away leaving only sadness in its wake.

"Then why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick,"

The panic returns to his eyes, and he and Lucas desperately try to cover their tracks.

From over their shoulder, Y/n meets eyes with an exasperated Will, and the couple shares a look and tired shake of the head.

"She is. She is sick!"

"Yeah, sick— she's sick," Lucas nods. "She's super sick. And that's why we're here, actually."

Y/n silently meets Will's eye again and makes out the subtle firm line he presses his lips into and the small shake of his head 'no'.

Oblivious to Will, the two continue.

"Yeah, w-we're shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana,"

"For Nana."

"Also," Mike sighs, giving El an earnest look. "we're here to get a gift for you. It's just, we couldn't find anything that suited you and I only have, like, $3.50, so it's hard."

"-super hard." Lucas sighs, giving an honest, apologetic look to all three of them. "It's— It's expensive,"

"Speaking of," came Will's, softened voice. "Here ya go. Sorry it's not real,"

He takes a step forward and sheepishly offers the small goodie bag to Y/n. Everyone watches confused and almost a little intrigued as Y/n takes it curiously. Quickly, she dives her gaze and hand into the baggie and smiles as she pulls out the small y/f/f candy ring.

"Oh, a ring pop?" She flashes Will a beaming smile as she rips open the package and slips it on her finger. "Thanks, Will,"

He nods happily, completely relieved she was this happy to get one.

Y/n's smile drops instantly when she remembers what they're interrupting and she quiets, clearing her throat a little.

"Sorry," she mumbled, sending an especially sorry look to El as her hand graces her shoulders in a gentle apology.

El sends her a weak smile, eyes falling back down. Sadly, she looks to her ice cream and then deeply into Mike's eyes as the day's events all come crashing down on her. And it's with great disappointment she realizes what has hurt her, and what hasn't.

She shakes her head softly, the disappointment evident on her face now more than ever.

"You lie," she says finally, all the more saddened to see Mike squirm under her gaze, only confirming her words. El shakes her head again. "Why do you lie?"

She waits and waits and when Mike can't give an answer, the screech of the bus's tires in the distance tells her a decision must be made. And it's with a seething glare, El makes up her mind.

Everyone watches carefully in silence as she takes three tantalizing steps until she's staring up at Mike. He's frozen, as is everyone else as he fears her next words. And he has every reason to.

"I dump your ass."

Y/n's eyes find Will's once again, this time, regret clouding them when she realizes. Tonight was meant to be spent at his house, dinner with him, Jonathan, and Joyce at least but it seems the day had different plans in mind. She stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock as she processed what had just happened.

She detected sadness in Will's eyes, as she was used she had in her own but reality came crashing down, breaking her from her spell.

"I'm sorry," she sputters, more so to Will than Mike and Lucas. "I didn't think she would," she breathes.

"What?" Mike's widened eyes land on her, flickering between her and El's retreating figure. "Did you tell her to do this?"

"Of course not!" She said, eyes darting between him and Lucas sympathetically. "But it's still their decision. I'm sorry. I am,"

"Y/n! You coming?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder to find El and Max moving up the line, nearly ready to board. From there, El looked between Y/n and Mike, as if she were worried Mike would take it out on Y/n more. Y/n gave her friend a weak, reassuring smile and turned back to the guys.

Will specifically.

"I'm sorry," she said to Will, beginning to back away even though she didn't really want to leave him. "But I think I need to be with them right now. Is it okay if we take a rain check?"

Will smiled, nodding and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. She could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness but if it was ever there, he had buried it for her sake.

In a spur of the moment, she ran forward and planted a kiss on his lips before pulling back. She shot Lucas and Mike a lingering look, not really knowing what to feel for them in the moment.

And then she took off.

The three friends stood baffled, reeling from how much everything had changed so quickly. Their legs kicked into gear and followed the crowds to the bus but the doors had just swung closed. From where they stood at the curb, they could make out three familiar lingering silhouettes from behind the tinted windows, all piling in together.

Max had nabbed the window seat, El seating herself next to her. It was only a matter of moments before Y/n had joined them, plopping herself in the seat directly behind them. She peeked out over the low backs of their seats, wedged right in between them with a breathless look.

For just that moment, the three best friends sat there in stunned silence before breaking into a breathless laugh.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The sun had set behind even the lowest of valleys, bathing the town in a pale glow and unforgiving chill that couldn't be quenched even on the hottest days of summer. Starcourt mall was alive in every way but one; the hum of the neon lights reached every corner, but the mall had long since closed leaving it a beautiful, vibrant wasteland.

The only remaining occupants were tucked away in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, standing before a whiteboard facing the daring truth they had worked so hard to uncover. In perfect sync, they read the words aloud with confusion muddling their brains and exhaustion filling their systems.

"The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west."

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand before the translation willing something to make sense. But all they were left with when they turned in for the night, closing the grated metal gate that went with closing up shop was utter bafflement.

"I mean, it just..." Steve sighs into the ground, the keys in his hand turning in the lock. "It just can't be right."

"It's right," Robin assures. When Steve returns to his feet the three of them begin their lazy journey to the exit.

"Honestly, I think this is great news," Dustin shrugs.

"How is this great news?" Steve chuckles bitterly. I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It has to be a code."

Steve's face screws up into a puzzled pout. "What do you mean, a code?"

"Like a super-secret spy code,"

"That's a total stretch,"

"I don't know, is it?" Robin scoffs.

"You're buying into this?"

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were gonna say, 'Fire the warhead at noon'?"

"Exactly," Dustin gestures, his gaze returning up to Steve to see the gears spinning in his head.

"And my translation is correct," Robin assures. "I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds'. Why would anyone talk like that unless they're trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly!"

"And why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the true meaning of their message was somehow sensitive?"

By now, Dustin was rubbing his triumphant smirk in Steve's face. "Exactly."

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion," Robin says, looking to Dustin who remains triumphant.

"Evil Russians,"

Robin wears a tired smile as she looks back at Steve with a dry chuckle. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians."

"So how do we crack it?" Dustin asks, flashing his charming toothless grin her way.

"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges."

"A pattern. Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"

"Or a person."

"Or a weapon,"

"It's probably gonna take a super genius to track it, but..." Robin trails off when she notices she is one dingus short. "Where's Steve?"

The new duo spin on their heels where they spot their missing friend a few yards down. He had a frown screwed onto his face as he stood in front of one of the many kiddie rides, his hands diving into his pockets no doubt searching for coins. Sure enough, the clinking of coins rattling together as he purs them out in his palm confirms their suspicions.

"Hey, Steve," Robin calls, her empty hand swinging limply out in a puzzled gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's," Steve doesn't bother answering her question and the only time he picks his eyes up off his hands is to check the mechanical horse for its cost. "a quarter. I need--" he mumbles to himself, looking hopefully to his friends. "Do you have a quarter?"

Despite her confusion, Robin lets out a chuckle, and she and Dustin quickly shuffle over to Steve's side. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

"Quarter!" He yells, jumping forward to catch the coin Robin flipped out for him.

He catches it with a clumsy spin and drops his knees to insert it into the ride. They watch was Steve remains huddled on the ground, a funny look on his face as the ride begins. Robin can't resist poking fun, and does with little strain on her voice to be heard over the music.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"

"Shh-shh! Shh!" Steve snaps, gesturing to the galloping horse. More specifically the music it plays. "Would you two just shut up and listen?"

Robin and Dustin are almost shocked at his seriousness, but the smile remains on Dustin's face from Robin's comment. That is until it eventually slips off his face when he realizes why the familiar tune being played before them was so familiar.

"Holy shit," he breathes, locking eyes with a grave-looking Steve. Dustin looks to Robin, helping her to connect the dots as he begins shedding his backpack from his shoulders. "The music,"

He had heard it all day. They all had while translating the tape. The very tune Steve had been complaining so much about.

"The music!" Dustin cries again, dropping to his knees as he desperately fishes his bag for the tape.

How had he not recognized it? Y/n and him used to ride the Indiana Flyer at the fair as soon as they were old enough. And then the caricell, over and over every year until they were old enough to ride the bigger rides. And even then, the tune carried out across the Fun Fair where it could be heard from as far as the top of the Ferris wheel. The two of them would drag their mother every year. It was the sound of his childhood.

Dustin presses play on the tape, and as he gazes up at Robin, silently pleading for the dots to connect the sound of the song on the tape is louder than Russian for the first time all day.

But Robin only shrugs between them.

"I don't understand,"

"It's the exact same song on the recording,"

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?"

"The 'Indiana Flyer'? I don't..." Steve shakes his head. The look on his face made clear he wished he was wrong. He looked... unsettled. "I don't think so. This code, it... it didn’t come from Russia."

And they that unease. They could feel it settling into their chests, making their hearts beat a little faster and their stomach twisting up into knots at what he said next.

"It came from here."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The roads are empty, even still. Crickets sing into the night and the steady breeze taking itself through Hawkins back roads are momentarily swept up with the leaves when a lone Chevrolet Camaro pulls into Brimborne. The lot remained abandoned, seemingly, other than the figure stepping out of the car, with sweat on his brow.

The summer sun had set hours ago, taking the searing heat with it. But the humidity that clung to the air felt to be Billy like he was sitting far too close to an open fire. But still, he lumbers to the trunk where the reason for his being here lies.

The latch opens with a loud clunk, and the trunk lid opens slowly. His eyes find the contents immediately, as does the murky light from the trunk bulb onto his face.

She was still unconscious.

A foreign voice in his brain — the one who had brought them both here, the one to have put here — spoke up again without permission. And yet, it didn't exactly speak in words, but feelings. And all that shot to the surface was one thing — one word.

Good.

It was Billy who couldn't stop thinking about it. What he had done. The small part of him that fought.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

Among the pain, Billy feels tears building up inside him when he realizes what that tug in his gut is ordering him to do. He can also feel it happening again. He can feel himself slipping away, just as he had when he fled for the showers. But this time he fought it.

God, he fought it so hard.

But it wasn't enough.

His nails dug into the flesh of his knees that he had been clutching so tightly to his chest. That and the tears racing down his cheeks now blending with the water were the last things to happen that were truly Billy's doing.

"Billy, are you okay—?"

The last thing Billy sees before he loses control is his hand lunging for Heather's throat. His iron grip locks her in a chokehold and her hands fly to his. Desperately she claws at his hands, her nails raking into his skin but he never flinches. She feels her feet leave the ground, her toes grazing the tile floor as he picks her up and pins her to the stall doors.

Her widened, fearful eyes look deep into his but all she finds as he rips the curtain closed is the lack of human emotion within him. His eyes were hollow, the whites of his eyes running black and they are the last thing she sees before unconsciousness overtakes her.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

She's limp in his arms as he carries her throughout the darkness of Brimborne whose only source of light is moonlight spilling through the dirtied glass window panes hanging high above. He walks with all the time in the world, his eyes dead set on the last place Billy ever wanted to see again. The only sound to be heard within miles was the scuffle of his rubber soles scraping against the dirt and leaves sprinkled across the concrete.

The scratchy thumps of his boots turn to metal echoes as he disappears down the darkened stairwell. From there, inky blackness like the sludge coursing through his veins is all that can be seen. Little moonlight has survived the journey through the grated floor, but there was enough to illuminate Heather's body that he places onto the cement floor.

Soft, discomforted groans break through the duct tape over her mouth as she comes to. She rolls onto her back, confused as to why she feels pain in her head and cement digging into her spine.

But everything she needs to know becomes all too clear almost instantly when she sees Billy's hollowed eyes staring down at her from where he's perched above her. Panic sets in, and as she realizes all too late why she is unable to move her hands or feet. That doesn't stop Heather from trying as she fights against the restraints, eager to use her dried-out voice.

Her breath is knocked loose when Billy throws her back into the ground after she managed to sit up even an inch.

He keeps a small majority of his weight on her shoulders as he leans in close, his breath on her ear.

"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

Tears tickle her temple when they escape her eyes. She prays for many things, but she'll even settle for the small possibility the sweat collecting on her skin is enough to weaken the tape on her mouth. Then maybe, just maybe she can scream for help.

"Just stay very still."

This specific hope fizzles away, drowning in her own confusion when, without moving his head, he looks to her and slowly peels the tape off of her lips.

She's too shocked to do anything. Too afraid. But she wasn't prepared to let that stop her. Heather was going to do something, she had to. She would.

But that all died when Billy suddenly stood up, looking almost disinterested in her as an eery, unnatural sound reverberates throughout the darkness before her. Slowly, her head turns to face the dark abyss when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

His face is as hard as stone though his eyes hold a flicker of struggle and pain when it all unfolds. Heather may be the only one in binding, but she is not the only one who is trapped. There is nothing at all Billy can do but watch as the large and bloodied mass of flesh stomps forward from the shadows, ready to feast.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway.

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore.

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse.

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was.

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable.

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll. But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though.

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

#tw suicidal thoughts #rwby #fic things #rwby fic #Ironwood #Watts #Maria #Pietro #idk what this IS #post-apocalyptic RWBY I guess #with a side of questionable people not talking to each other #Anonymous

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words-with-wren · 4 years ago

Text

it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re not a monster, just a human

Surprise sequel to my last fic, we all have wings but some of us don’t know why. Probably best to read that one first.

___

It was dark when Tubbo woke, feeling strangely comfortable. For a long moment, he drifted, feeling pleasantly warm and comfortable for the first time in… he didn’t know how long.

Then his memory returned and he burrowed deeper into the covers, pulling them over his head and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He fought down tears, the aching pit in his heart that had been present ever since Tommy had left (ever since he had sent Tommy away to die) threatening to devour everything.

He had spent many, many nights curled on his bed, trying and failing to sleep. Even more nights where he hadn’t even tried, staring over the paperwork he needed to do, the plans for the nation he needed to address. It felt strange to have actually slept properly -- and a good sleep, at that -- but he knew he wasn’t going to sleep again that night.

His throat was dry and he sat up in bed, taking in the small room. It took him a long moment to recognise Phil’s bedroom -- an empty bed he assumed was Phil’s in the corner. He rubbed an eye, realizing with a squirm of embarrassment that Phil must have carried him up here when he fell asleep -- he didn’t remember ever leaving the basement.

(Part of him liked that -- liked that Phil had taken the time to settle him into bed. It made him feel safe -- wanted. Liked.

All things he didn’t deserve after everything he’d done.)

He wrapped his arms around his knees, the phantom echo of Phil’s embrace clinging to him.

He should leave -- he’d overstayed his welcome long enough. The day had been nice -- nicer than he could admit, possibly the nicest he’d had in a long time. But he was the president, and Phil didn’t even like him.

Tubbo couldn’t blame him, really.

He stood, slipping his socked feet onto the smooth wooden floor. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as he came in contact with his helmet. He’d have to get rid of that - maybe a respawn was needed if he couldn’t bring the durability down enough. It had been a moment of weakness, a moment of foolish fear and childish desire and he almost regretted it.

He glanced around for his shoes, seeing them placed neatly beside the bed (why had Phil carried him up here? Why had he taken the time to put him to bed like a child? Why hadn’t he just thrown him out and finally be rid of him). He pulled the shoes on and stood, padding silently towards the ladder downstairs.

The ladder creaked slightly as he climbed down and he froze, listening for any sign of Phil, heart beating quickly, hands tight on the wood. When there was no sound, he continued down, stepping lightly onto the floor.

Friend lifted his head as Tubbo moved slowly across the room. He motioned a hushing noise towards the sheep, as though that would silence it, but it didn’t pay him any attention and let out a soft bleat.

“Quiet,” Tubbo hissed. He glanced towards the water elevator, hoping Phil was deep enough underground to not hear. Why he was putting so much effort into sneaking out, he wasn’t sure -- it wasn’t like Phil hadn’t been trying to get rid of him all day.

(He had shown a moment of vulnerability he hadn’t shown to anyone else down in that basement. To his… enemy? Was Phil his enemy? Tubbo didn’t want him to be, but maybe he was. He was allied with Technoblade, after all.

He didn’t want to face the man he had once seen as a father figure. The man he had shot only a few days ago. The man he desperately wanted to make proud. The man he had locked in house arrest).

He almost made it too. He had even opened the door when Phil appeared, surprisingly silent, from behind the ladder. Tubbo froze, eyes darting quickly, heart thumping as Phil paused, catching sight of him.

“Tubbo?” he asked, his voice soft in the dark room. Tubbo didn’t know what to say. “Where are you going?”

Home, Tubbo wanted to say, but that was a lie. He didn’t have a home. He hadn’t in a long time. Even before becoming president, he hadn’t had a place he’d known as home.

(Not a place, exactly. But a loud, boisterous laugh. Mischievous blue eyes. A tall, lanky figure who teased him and he teased back. A bench and a music box and a disc and a sunset and most importantly a friend by his side.

That was gone now. Tubbo had made sure of it.)

“I -” His mouth was dry. “Sorry. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s alright, mate,” Phil said. He deposited some items into a chest and moved to where Tubbo was standing, gently closing the door outside. “It’s late, you should go back to bed.”

Tubbo blinked, wrapping an arm around himself. Did Phil want him to stay?

(Phil was right beside him and Tubbo couldn’t help but remember the hug from earlier. And oh, he hadn’t been hugged like that in such a long time. He wanted it again. Wanted more. But he knew he couldn’t ask for it.)

“I should go,” he muttered. He was going to cry again, why was he going to cry again. (He wanted his compass. He wanted the comfort, the last memory of his best friend.

But he’d lost it. He’d lost it and it had been destroyed - he’d been careless and stupid and the compass was gone and so was Tommy and it was Tubbo’s fault he had sent his best friend away had left him alone had thrown him aside and hadn’t thought to visit had left him to the demons and monsters of his mind and a pillar stood where Tommy once had and craters were all that was left of him and this time there was nothing there was no one left to rebuild to make it beautiful again because Tommy was gone and Tubbo had done that and -)

“Tubbo?”

Phil laid a hand on his shoulder and Tubbo couldn't help but lean into the touch, furiously rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He was the president, not some silly child. He shouldn’t be breaking down again in the house of an enemy of his country.

“I should go,” he whispered again, his voice stiff and thick. But Phil didn’t let go of his shoulder, just watching him with a long stare that Tubbo couldn’t keep eye contact with. He looked down, blinking.

“How about we take another trip,” Phil suggested, and Tubbo looked up at him through his hair. “I think you need a break.”

“I can’t,” Tubbo said tiredly. (Oh, he wanted to say yes. He wanted to so, so badly. He wanted to leave it all behind, to be able to rest and sleep. But he couldn’t. He had let Tommy down, he couldn’t let L’manburg down. Not when he had chosen the country over his best friend.)

(Besides, he couldn’t rest. Not with the memory of tears and rain on his face. Not with the shadow of the pillar that was Tommy’s grave was over his heart.)

“Why not?” Phil asked, and Tubbo met his eyes. “What is left of L’manberg, really?”

Tubbo wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to say that L’manberg was about freedom for all. It was a place for all and everyone to be welcome. A place with no walls. A place to be able to relax and laugh with friends.

But that would be a lie. Maybe L’manberg had been like that once, a long, long time ago. (A lifetime ago, when he had been young and part of a pair). But her streets were quiet and her citizens fearful.

Those that were left.

“I - I have to stay,” he muttered. He needed to make it better. That was his job - he was president, he was in charge. He had to fix things. He had to make it work because he hadn’t left when he had the chance. He hadn’t left with Tommy and he had chosen his fate and this was where he was to stay.

There was nowhere else he could go, anyway. Not without his other half.

Phil shifted, laying his other hand on Tubbo’s other shoulder and crouching slightly so they were level. His eyes were soft - far softer than Tubbo expected.

Far softer than Tubbo deserved.

“Tubbo, you’re allowed to leave. You’re still just a kid -- you shouldn’t be expected to run a whole country, especially not on your own. Come with me -- rest. Recover. You’ve been through a lot, I know a place.”

If it weren’t the middle of the night, and if Tubbo wasn’t exhausted from his breakdown earlier and if Phil’s hands weren’t so, so warm on his shoulders maybe he would have said no. But at the moment, all he wanted was rest. All he wanted was to leave, to get away, to stop having to worry about his cabinet getting along or silly dispute or a dying country he couldn’t revive.

So he dropped his head and nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered, softly.

Phil squeezed his shoulder gently and stepped back, moving to his chests. Tubbo watched him for a moment, absently lifting a hand to where Phil’s had just left. He felt the absence almost as much as the hands themselves.

“Do you need to pack anything?” Phil asked, and Tubbo shook his head. Everything he needed was either in his inventory or his ender chest.

It came with not having a home.

“Alright, dress warmly, it’s cold,” Phil said. He finished organising, ruffled Friend’s wool a little and smiled at Tubbo, still standing by the door.

“I -- I don’t have anything to wear,” Tubbo muttered. Phil frowned, nodded, and turned to a chest, rummaging through for a moment before withdrawing a cloak. It was a pale blue, trimmed with white, yellow and hints of red.

Tubbo pulled it over his shoulders and followed Phil out the door.

They travelled the same path they had taken to the Nether portal that afternoon, but it felt different. Tubbo paused on the hill and glanced back at L’manberg, feeling an aching in his chest, a lump in his throat.

His gaze lingered on the van (he had made that, recreated it when he was optimistic about the future, despite all he had been through), memories of a better time, of hopeful rebellion, of laughter and friendship and a wall that had meant hope instead of despair washing over him.

Fundy, grinning as they bickered over an insignificant treat. Fundy, eyes dark and haunted while he informed Tubbo he was leaving to start a new city.

Eret, ruffling Tubbo’s hair as they worked on the walls together. Eret, eyes hidden behind cold glasses and colder voice when he betrayed them.

Wilbur, sitting in the entrance of the van, playing a soft tune while the sun set golden over his nation. Wilbur, laughing mad and broken in the rubble of their home.

Tommy, arm over Tubbo’s shoulder. Tommy, teasing, joking, laughing. Tommy, eyes shining with life and chaos and happiness.

Tommy, staring up at Tubbo through the rain, a shocked and betrayed expression frozen on his face.

Tommy...

When had it all gone so wrong?

Phil was waiting for him when he turned, wiping a hand across his face. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Tubbo and they were silent as they slipped through the dark paths.

The lump in Tubbo’s throat grew as they stepped through the portal, Phil not hesitating as he moved onto one of the paths leading away. One of Tommy’s paths. For a moment, Tubbo looked towards the end, wondering if he could make out the portal. Wondering if he could see the pillar all the way from here.

He followed Phil as the man moved off the path, confidently picking his way through the unstable Nether terrain. Another portal slowly came into view and Tubbo wondered how long it had been there.

The cold of the Overworld was a slap to the face as Tubbo stepped through the portal. He gasped, pulling the cloak tightly around him as they stepped into a snowy wasteland. Phil grinned back at him.

“Not far now,” he said. “Just… trust me.”

The words made Tubbo’s chest twist and he almost turned back. Unease continued growing as they moved deeper inland, snow swirling softly around them, picked up by the slight breeze. Tubbo pulled his cloak tightly around him, itching for a sword, a weapon, anything, in hand.

He was beginning to have a suspicion as to where they were going.

"Phil,” he began, uncertainly. “Where -”

And he stopped, the words caught in his throat. He stopped in his tracks, hand dropping away from the cloak, eyes welling once again.

Just becoming visible, rising high above the world, was a tower. An ugly, horrible, eye-sore of a cobblestone tower, reaching to the sky as though defying Tubbo.

He blinked, trying to force down the tears, the wave of bubbling emotion the sight of it caused. The tower was so Tommy he wanted to break down. Had Tommy been here -- before…? No, that wasn’t possible. But who else could have made this?

Was it all some kind of sick joke? Had Phil dragged him out here for revenge?

If he was being honest, Tubbo didn’t really care. At least it was a break, a change from the dragging routine of being president.

Phil had stopped, looking back at him with a curious expression.

“Tubbo?” he asked, and every time he said Tubbo’s name he wanted to break down and be ten years old again and safe in Phil’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Tubbo said, and it was the biggest lie he had ever said. Phil saw through him but didn’t say anything, just waited for Tubbo to catch up to him and continued moving.

“Stay close for the moment,” he said. “I’ll need to clear things up first.”

Tubbo nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention. The shadow of the cobblestone tower mingled with the shadow of the pillar and he didn’t care anymore.

Had Tommy missed him as much as he missed Tommy? As much as he would always miss Tommy?

Had Tommy thought of him, before he jumped?

If so, was fond memories or was it in anger?

The small cottage that Tubbo recognised without any surprise m came into view. The horse wasn’t in the small pen out the front, and Tubbo felt a stab of guilt at that. Another thing to add to the sea of guilt he was already drowning in.

“Phil - I thought you… what’s he doing here?”

Tubbo looked up at Technoblade’s voice, his breath frozen suddenly in his throat. The warrior was terrifying in the snowy night - a blue cloak fluttering around his knees, his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Tubbo. Tubbo's heart was beating rapidly, and the urge to run was suddenly so overwhelmingly strong. But he didn’t. He stood his ground, and Phil stepped softly between them, holding up his hands.

“Relax, Techno,” he said. “Tubbo just needs a place to stay.”

“And you really thought I was the best person he should stay with.” Techno’s voice was devoid of emotion, but Tubbo bit his lip, knowing he wasn’t going to be allowed to stay. “I’m not a daycare, Phil.”

"I’ll stay as well. He’s a kid, Techno. He needs a place to recover. He needs somewhere away from L'manberg.”

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo said, and he wasn’t even aware he had spoken. He stepped forward, away from the safety of Phil. Techno was as intimidating as always, eyes glinting, hands gripped tightly around a pickaxe that Tubbo knew could do some damage (he had seen Quackity’s scars).

His chest was tight as he stepped forward, as he stared at the man in front of him (and the yellow walls closed around him. And the fireworks lit up the night. And the pain burst through his chest.)

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry,” he repeated, lowering his gaze. If Technoblade wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t resist. It was the least he deserved.

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder and he started, looking up at Phil. The older man had fixed Techno with a long gaze, and after a long moment of silence Techno nodded, once, and Tubbo drew in a tight breath.

Was he really going to be allowed to stay?

Did he want to stay?

“Oi, Big Man - I think I found one of those zombie fellas you - Philza!”

A loud voice shattered the silence of the night and Tubbo’s heart stopped. He looked up, almost fast enough to crack his neck, blood running cold, heart frozen in his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn’t breathe and a blur of white and red and yellow hair ran across the snow towards them.

Tommy was here.

Tommy was with Technoblade.

Tommy was alive.

He couldn’t breathe.

Tommy skidded to a stop suddenly, the excitement on his face changing abruptly to a guarded expression as he caught sight of Tubbo. He was different -- different to when Tubbo had seen him last. His hair was longer, shaggy and hanging around his neck. More scars were scattered across his face, his eyes darting with a wariness Tubbo didn't often see on him. But it was still him -- still so very Tommy and so very alive.

Phil stepped back, his hand slipping off Tubbo’s shoulder, giving the two teenagers their space.

(Tubbo couldn’t breathe)

“How?” he whispered, taking a half step forward.

(How was he here? How was he alive.)

(He hates me. He must, he has to. It was my fault, it was all my fault).

“Tubbo.” Tommy’s voice was tight, tense, covering hidden anger.

“I -” Tubbo didn’t know what to say. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Tommy demanded, folding his arms, eyes flashing.

"I - I went to visit-”

“Oh no, you didn’t!” Tommy was always quick to anger, quick to shout, quick to explode. “I was there for months, and you didn’t visit me once!”

“I - I did,” Tubbo tried. “I did, but Dream kept… I thought you didn’t want-”

“You didn’t even come to my party!” Tommy snapped. “And I know you got invitations, I know you did!”

"I didn’t!” Tubbo cried. “I thought you didn’t want me there.” He bit his lip, looking down, hands shaking.

“Don’t try that,” Tommy spat. “Dream told me you got the invitations, he made sure of it.”

“I would have come,” Tubbo muttered. He stepped forward, feeling like his chest was going to explode.

(Tommy was alive.)

(Tommy hated him.)

(But Tommy was alive.)

Something shifted in Tommy’s expression at that, but he didn’t give any ground, anger still spilling off his form.

“Sure,” he spat.

“I would have. Tommy, please, I -” He took a shaky breath. “I went to visit you, and I found the pillar and I thought…” he trailed off, and something in Tommy’s eyes made Tubbo wonder just how close he had been to jumping. Tubbo’s heart ached. That was his fault. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Sure you are,” Tommy said. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you threw me out.” His eyes blazed, covering the hurt he was feeling. Anger was his defence, Tubbo knew him well enough to know that.

It had faded though, and Tubbo could see a little of the tiredness lingering behind the rage.

“I am!” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry. Exiling you was the biggest mistake of my life.” He was crying, but he didn’t care. “I understand if you hate me, I - I’ll leave, but please know that I’m sorry.”

“I missed you,” he wanted to say, wanted to scream. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t deserve to miss the person he had thrown aside.

Tommy didn’t meet his eyes, most of his fire faded.

“I don’t hate you,” he said finally and when he looked up Tubbo was startled to see there were tears in his eyes. “I…” His hands shifted up, to where a chain linked around his neck, a compass identical to Tubbo’s lost one resting on his chest. “I thought you hated me.”

The words sent a sword into Tubbo’s heart, an aching, aching pain. How had it ever got to this? How could they ever have allowed the world to tear them apart?

“I could never, Tommy Innit,” he said quietly.

“I missed you,” Tommy muttered and Tubbo bit his lip, the tears flowing freely.

"Me too,” he whispered.

And then Tommy moved forward, pulling him into a tight hug and Tubbo wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend, and they were both crying, clinging to each other and for the first time in a long, long time, Tubbo felt whole again.

#dream smp #tubbo #tubbo_#dream smp fanfiction #clingy duo #philza minecraft #clingyblr #tommyinnit #my writing #hurt/comfort #tubbo needs a HUG and he gets one

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missgarnet · 4 years ago

Text

Where We Stand

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count:5.7k

Genre: angst with fluff

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past miscarriage, blood and injury, Duchess Min and other characters from Stay, I swear there’s a happy ending

Summary by @minjoonalist: fluff, pain, almost pain, spain without the s' and fluff?

Link to ao3

Happy Birthday @sope-and-shine Belle, I love you! (also I’m sorry for not killing anyone off in this story, I just couldn’t)

I also want to say thank you to @minjoonalist and @sope-and-shine‘s Fae for reading through this to helping me edit and think of titles!

“How do I look darling?” you ask, slipping the thin dagger into the hidden slit in the corseted top of your dress.

The duke stepped closer to you and took in the reflection of the two of you together. You watched in the mirror as he swept your hair to the side and started to kiss you, his lips a gentle whisper against your neck. “You look… powerful. I’d have to be an imbecile to ignore that.”

“Is that it?”

You feel his lips forming a smirk against your skin, “Of course not, you’re stunning and you know it just as well as I do. How was I lucky enough to find a wife as brilliant and beautiful as you.” His hands find themselves at your waist, trailing back to play with the laces of your dress.

“Yoongi,” you laugh as you swat his hands away. “They just finished getting me all dressed up in this, I don’t want to call the maids back to retie this again.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already, you normally make them redo this until it’s as tight as you can get and both of you are exhausted.” He wraps you in his arms again and turns the two of you to face the mirror, “unless you’re…”

He can feel the sharp breath you take, realizing he’d figured it out. “Please, don’t get excited, it's too early for that. I don’t want to tell anyone else just yet.”

“Who else knows?”

“My maid, she thought it was weird when I asked her to find dresses with a higher waistline. She figured it out pretty soon, and I politely asked her not to say anything just yet.”

“Mmhmm, and what do you mean by politely asking this time.”

“I may have… accidentally… threatened to have her tongue removed if she so much as hinted to it”

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the few moments of alone time you had left. The two of you rushed to finish getting dressed for the day, this meaning countless weapons being discreetly tucked away in the many hidden pockets of your clothing. It was an important day, and you made it a rule to be prepared for anything and everything that could go wrong. Today you had one mission and no one was going to get in your way, not even the king himself.

Looking back you should have said no when she asked you to walk her down the aisle. Traditionally she should have had a family member to give her away, but tradition be damned, if your best friend and closest ally wanted you by her side then nothing was getting in your way.

By the time you got there the poor dear was already panicking as she paced the floor of her dressing room. “What if I mess up or trip and the entire court starts making fun of me”

“I’ll give them something else to talk about.” You said, instinctively reaching toward your favourite dagger. It’s jeweled angel wings sitting at the very top of your gown, giving the appearance of a simple broach when tucked into it’s spot atop your corset.

“Y/N, no weapons. How many times do we have to say this, stabbing people doesn’t solve problems. It only creates more.”

You scoffed at her reply, knowing fully well that it was the first thought you had. “First of all, I wasn’t going to stab anyone… this time. Second, there’s no rule against blackmail or accidently sharing information that would draw far more attention to others.”

“I don’t know how you did this. You didn’t even know Yoongi when the two of you got married, I’ve known Tae far longer and I’m still way too nervous for all of this.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “I was a wreck on my wedding day. Hell, I practically had to be dragged down the aisle and I would have clawed my way out if I could. I wanted nothing to do with it, then again that wasn’t really up to me. Even afterwards I was still too nervous to actually talk to him, it was much easier to argue and plot all the ways I could get rid of him.”

“You were planning to divorce him?”

“Oh Queenie, divorce was mild compared to what I had in mind.” You smiled at the memories of when you first moved in with your husband. The two of you had barely spent a minute alone, and were at each other's throats any time you were in the same room. He expected someone docile, sweet, and a little fearful of him the way that almost everyone else was. What he hadn’t expected was to be matched with a wife even more stubborn and intimidating than he was, you had become the first true rivalry he had ever experienced and it was thrilling.

It didn’t help him to find out that he had met the only person with a reputation worse than his own among the court, nor that you had found ways to win over his entire staff in a matter of days. Despite being incredibly talented and an excellent asset to have on his side, Yoongi seemed determined to prove that he was still the one in charge for those first few months. Everyday was a competition and the two of you had engaged in a seemingly endless battle of bickering and petty vengeance against one another. Your favourite of these occurred after he made it a point of removing you from a meeting with the generals. He should have known better than to mess with someone who was feared by the court and adored by both his family and his staff.

That next morning as the sun began to rise Yoongi was nearly blinded by the amount of light pouring into his chambers, waking up to the smell of burnt fabric and charred toast. You could hardly contain your laughter when one of the staff recalled being called into the sight of him slipping on his robe only to find that the right sleeve had been completely torn off. Tears ran down your face as you heard about him storming around the room looking for something to wear to meet you at the breakfast table only to find most of his clothes had been sent off to the tailor to be altered or repaired in some way and he had been left with an assortment of mismatched clothing and heavy winter suits. That morning neither of you felt willing to give each other the satisfaction of reacting to the other’s actions. Showing weakness was to show defeat, and neither of you planned on losing. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of just pride as you watched your husband shift in his seat clearly displeased with the current state he was in, almost laughing as he hobbled in missing his left shoe.

You had almost missed the defeated sigh he gave as he took his seat across from you. If he were like any other man you knew, he’d have given you the outburst of rage that you had been preparing yourself for. Instead he had a rather gentle gaze as he met your eyes from across the table and spoke in a soft almost admiring tone, “We can’t keep doing this. I mean seriously, destroying my curtains, burning my breakfast, and ridding me of my entire wardrobe in one morning. And why? I’ve done nothing to offend you.”

The servants quickly began backing out of the room in anticipation of another argument between the two of you. “Nothing? You really think you’ve nothing wrong?” The icy glare you were so determined to keep directed at him was the only thing holding tears of frustration at bay. But you refused to let him or anyone else see you crying. “Yoongi, you undermine me at every opportunity available, making sure that I have no say in what is going on around me. I have no family here, no friends, no allies on my side. Everything here is about you, while I am constantly pushed aside and belittled by even your guards and servants. I was one of the most brilliant women my age. I learned the arts of battle, bribery, and blackmail by the age of five, and perfected each of them by eleven. And the worst part is all of that is going to waste, I am wasting away and it is all your fault.”

“I’m sorry I had no clue. I just thought you’d want a break from having to fight all the time, I guess I should have noticed this was wrong when you seemed so determined to argue at every opportunity possible.

“You really are an idiot sometimes.”

He laughed at this, the two of you finally sharing a moment of understanding and bonding over as you later called it his very best moment of complete stupidity.

As you sat there recalling all of this your eyes began to water and you let out a quiet sniffle. The two of you had been through so much since then and with very limited exceptions you wouldn’t change a thing. You may not have had the best of beginnings with each other, but he’d done his best to make up for that every day that you’ve shared since then. The two of you still bickered, but it was more affectionate and caring now that you’d decided to save your fury to defend one another.

“Y/N are you crying?” your best friend placed her hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“No, of course not.” You tried to dry your eyes, but the gesture was not as subtle as you had hoped. “Fine maybe a little. I think I’m just feeling sentimental, all this wedding stuff had me thinking about when Yoongi and I were newly married and the time we had our first good fight”

“You still haven’t told me what happened to the shoes, and everytime I tried to ask the staff they just got really quiet and seemed like they were too afraid to speak.”

“Well, I took all of his left shoes and I had one of my maids put a box outside his room. Then I took most of them and put them away in the box, and I sent the rest away to be burned.”

“You burned his shoes”

“Only the left ones, and only the pairs I didn’t like. Besides if I were to do that now there would have been a lot more of them being burned, I swear just the smell of that shoe polish is enough to make me sick nowadays. Then again there’s been a lot of things that do.”

“Are you, you know?” The young queen-to-be asked, doing her best to emphasize the implied meaning.

“Am I what,” you asked, a challenging tone in your voice. It was obvious she knew, but if she wanted to ask she would have to use her words.

She gives you a knowing smile and pulls you in for a hug, “Congratulations Y/N!”

“Oh, shut up” you laughed trying to hide how nervous you were feeling. Yes she was your best friend, but this pregnancy was news you didn’t want out to the public just yet. “Today is your day, I don’t want to take away from that.”

She rushes to the clock at this realizing the two of you were running horribly behind schedule. As you rush through the halls together, you do your best to pin her veil in place and keep the train of her dress from collecting dust and dirt from the floor. Both of you pause outside the closed doors grandly looming before you, your faces warm and nearly out of breath.

You begin the task of fixing her appearance one last time before everything starts changing again. She was always so small and quiet when you first met. You never thought such a timid young woman would come this far, but something about her just spoke of being so much more than just another commoner. And now here she was in the most delicate white gown with layers of chiffon carefully draped over each other and tiny sleeves resting just off of her shoulders, looking more composed and regal than anyone you’ve ever seen before. The light reflects against some of the crystals sewn into her veil almost creating a halo around her. The light airy dress looked stunning on her and seemed even brighter as the two of you stood side by side. All the intricate layering and the bright white of her dress contrasted beautifully against yours. It wasn’t your original plan but the midnight blue gown and it’s simple pattern seemed to exaggerate your figure in the best of ways. It’s plain bodice and jeweled collar drew attention up and away from the changes you were hoping to hide.

The doors are drawn open and the two of you take a sharp breath as you begin the long anticipated journey down the aisle. To anyone else she would seem calm and composed, but you knew better, “You know, I’ve still got the carriage waiting outside. Say the word and we’ll start running. I’ll even lead the horses myself if that’s what it takes.”

You can see the slight bounce of her shoulders as she begins silently laughing. Looking around you begin to hold on to faces in the crowd, doing your best to remember where everyone was seated to use for later. It was a shock to see Namjoon and his new bride so close to the front, you thought they’d be in the back where she’d be hidden away from the prying eyes of so many nobles. After all, their relationship had been quite a scandal and she was much too far along to hide anything. What didn’t surprise you was the look on Taehyung’s face when he saw you and his fiance nearing the altar. The two of them were stupidly in love with each other and you could see that from a mile away.

You found yourself rather exhausted after all the excitement from the queen’s wedding, deciding to take just a short break at home before involving yourself with any of the court’s drama for a while. It was meant to be just a week, maybe two at the most but as time went by it felt much better to be in the manor with Yoongi than anywhere else. The two of you were still bickering like any other day, but being at home gave you a space away from the rest of the court once you’d started showing. The two of you became cautiously excited about your future child, still too worried to be fully invested but getting closer as each week went by.

There had been a few rough times along the way, but everything had been going well for the most part. That little piece of hope growing each day was worth any of the worries and discomforts you were facing, even the morning sickness that lasted much longer than you would have preferred. You thought things were getting better until another worrisome incident took place.

“Yoongi, I started bleeding this morning, and something feels very wrong.”

“Are you alright?” He shook his head realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry that’s a ridiculous question. What are you feeling, is there anything I can do?”

“I’m scared Yoongs, I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t tell if it’s normal or if it’s going poorly again. It can’t end like last time, I can’t lose another. I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done, I just don’t want to be alone.”

He crawled up into the oversized bed beside you, gently taking you in his arms as he brushed your hair aside. “I know there’s nothing you or I can do and it’s completely out of our control, but I want you to remember I’m here and I will always love you no matter what.”

The midwife had a sad smile when she entered the room. Mrs. Lee was one of the oldest staff members serving the Mins, having delivered you herself. It warmed her heart to see the two of you curled up together so caring and gentle for once. She had originally been hired to act as a wet nurse, but when your mother went into early labor the midwife had been by her side. You’d practically been raised by her along with a few other maids, so when you found out you were with child there was only one person you wanted to have with you.

Mrs. Lee had seen you grow from a small frail infant to a rather intelligent young woman, and knew almost all of the struggles you had faced along the way. It was always her that you went to with any problems whether it was scraped knees or scheming nobles. Your first pregnancy was rough to say the least, and she was there for all of it holding your hand when everything came to it’s heartbreaking end.

And here she is now, doing her best to keep you calm as she conducts her exam. You begin to shift as you feel another one of the pains you’d felt earlier. It wasn’t horrible, only strange and unpleasant. Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead while you begin to play with his hands to distract yourself. The two lay holding tight to one another as you wait for the midwife’s news. As she felt your stomach, Mrs. Lee paused for a moment furrowing her brow before suddenly bursting out in a smile unlike any other.

“Your Grace, I have good news and even better news. First off your child is in perfect health at the time being.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief, both of you feeling as though a large weight had been lifted.

“Second is those little pains you were complaining about. It’s not something going wrong that feeling is from the baby kicking. A lot of mothers complain about it being an odd feeling, but it’s good and it means that the baby’s doing well.”

“They didn’t kick last time,” you whispered.

“I know Angel,” she explained. “But you’re much further along this time, and you seem much healthier. Having some spotting this late is a bit concerning, but so long as you start getting enough rest and I keep checking up on you, I don’t think we have anything we need to be too worried about. I’m going to head out now and give the two of you some space, but you can call for me at any time even if it’s something small.”

Mrs. Lee excused herself and quietly left the two of you on your own once more. Yoongi loosened his embrace and turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes and the biggest gummy smile he’s had. You take your hand and place his against your stomach where your unborn child kept kicking. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he finally felt something, “They kicked! They actually-” He laughed and gave a joyful little sigh at this, “I love you so much Angel, you’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I love you too Yoongs, I couldn’t do any of this without you. We’re going to be a great team, but I think our child is going to need a name pretty soon.”

Yoongi gave you an evil grin, “We should name her Yoonji”

“Absolutely not, I think I’m going to be sick,” you announced pressing your hand to your stomach. “We are not naming her after your sister, she’s too much of a b-”

“You can’t keep calling her a bitch, especially when we’re in front of others,” he tried to sound exasperated but the laughter that followed quickly put an end to that act.

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous argument the two of you kept falling into, surely there were more important things than your opinions and not so backhanded comments about his sister. “Please be serious. If you could choose any name for our child, what would it be?”

“What about Aria for a girl’s name?”

You smile and take his hand in yours once more, “I think it’s beautiful, but we’re not going to need it. We are having a son.”

“My Love, I have no doubt that you know just about everything but we’re not going to find out until they’re here. There’s no way of being sure.”

“No, I’m absolutely sure. This child will be our first beautiful little boy, and I know I’m right. It’s a mother’s instinct and I’m never wrong.”

“Then what are you suggesting, since you’re never wrong.”

“What about Hyun-Su?”

“It’s perfect.”

You pull him closer and reach up to cup his face between your hands, “We’re going to be good at this, right? They’re going to turn out better than we did.”

“I hope so,” he turns his head slightly as he presses his lips to each of your palms. “Regardless they’re going to grow up knowing that they have two parents who will love and fight for them no matter what.”

The two of you stayed under the covers, wrapped in this moment of relief and utter bliss at knowing that your child would grow to be safe, healthy, and above all else loved. What you didn’t know was that this joy would be short lived as much grimmer news was always just around the corner. You had found out quite some time before Yoongi, receiving the letter from one of the associates you had within the court. Oftentimes it paid to have eyes and ears throughout the kingdom, but for possibly the first time you regretted having this knowledge. The letter shook in your hands as you considered your choices, you could send help but you knew there would be some kind of trap lying in wait. There was no way you would risk losing Yoongi to such an obvious scheme, even if it meant sacrificing someone else. Throwing the parchment into the fireplace you watched as all of it crumbled to ash.

The letters kept coming, this time from the Southern Kims themselves each one growing more desperate in their pleas for assistance. It would be one thing to send soldiers, but you knew Yoongi would try to go with and fight the second he heard that Seokjin was in danger. The Kims were kind and had been there for you and your husband every time you needed help, they deserved better and it broke your heart to turn them away knowing that they and their children were likely to die.

At first you just hid them in the pockets of your dress, but after one had nearly slipped out in front of Yoongi you had taken more precautions in hiding the precious information contained in the writing. It began with storing them under the dresser, and then in your pillowcase, burning them the second you had a chance. You had been pulling up the floorboards in search of a new hiding place when Yoongi finally found out. Pushing the envelope under your skirts you had tried to keep him from noticing anything amiss. Unfortunately your husband was more observant than you would like to give him credit for and he had known you long enough to know how you’d try to hide something.

“Yoongi, you can’t go. These aren’t just another group of ruthless barbarians stupid enough to slaughter their own men, they’ll know that you’re coming and they will plan for that.”

“I’ll meet with the generals before I go, we’ll come up with a plan. It will be alright, I promise.” He took your hand in his willing you both to believe the words he said.

You pulled away from him as you stood, “Very well, we can meet with the generals and send troops to help the Kims. However, you are staying here.”

“No, Jin might get on my nerves at times but he’s one of my closest friends. I’m not going to do nothing while he and his family are at risk.”

“What about our family? I know I didn’t want to get too excited about anything, but we don’t have very long until we’re parents ourselves.”

“I’ll be back before the baby comes, without so much as a scratch. I promise.”

“Please don’t. Don’t make promises that we both know aren’t guaranteed.” You took a shakey breath, “Yoongi, I rarely ask anything of you, but this time I am begging you please don’t go. I can’t lose you- we can’t lose you.”

He said something, but you could hardly process the words as his footsteps echoed across the floor, he left you with the hollow sound of your bedroom doors swinging shut behind him and a simple apology mumbled from behind the sealed doors.

You refused to sit and do nothing as your husband led himself to slaughter, if there was anyway to prevent his death you would find it. Collecting all the debts and favours owed to you by the less than upstanding members of the court was just the beginning. It took more bribing and blackmail than you had bargained for, but you got other nobles to send the reinforcements you needed. Lady Park had been all too cooperative after you happened to mention a certain nude portrait and it’s current whereabouts, she and her husband sent twice the guards you had asked for and even provided maps of the area. As for the others, some were less generous but were still eager to compensate you for information or silence in one way or another. The Northern Kims were unable to send any troops of their own. However, Namjoon’s young wife had provided a sizable amount of gold and information on a mercenary group that was up to the job. You had nothing to use against them and didn’t know of anything they were in need of, but for some reason she had given you help regardless. It was a small kindness, but a greatly appreciated one in your time of need.

Everything was in place and you’d given the go ahead for them to approach the men surrounding the Southern Palace, but you’d yet to hear back from any of your troops. All of this had been meant as a backup plan in case something went wrong, but as days turned into weeks Yoongi’s chances of success were growing smaller. You’d taken to pacing the halls at night as your due date drew nearer, he should have been back by now.

“Y/N, you have to rest. You're putting too much stress on your body and that’s not good for you or the baby,” Mrs. Lee warned as she pushed your hair away from your face.

“ Well... seeing as how he’s the one causing all of this, you can take that up with Yoongi once he’s back. Until then I’ll be up doing everything I can to make sure that he comes home in one piece.”

Mrs. Lee didn’t seem too fond of your reply and folded her arms across her chest, “I’ll be sure to mention that, but until then I want you to be resting as much as possible and taking care of yourself. So little miss, you will be in bed, eating three full meals a day, and you will not be fussing over all of this anymore. What’s done is done and all we can do is wait.”

One of the maids came knocking at your door, disturbing your mandated rest. Somehow you’d become even more confined to your room after the slight back pains you’d felt that morning. You’d been told to get your rest and avoid getting too worked up. Mrs. Lee would be furious if she found out, but she wasn’t the one in charge here and you had told them to wake you at any hour if they had news from your husband. The young girl had placed a small parcel before you and saw her way out as quietly as possible. You tore the small bow apart, unwrapping it as quickly as possible, tearing the paper piece by piece until you felt shredded wet fabric against your hands.

From the mess you were able to identify one of Yoongi’s jackets, torn to bits and coated in sweat from the battlefield. You’d grown used to seeing things like this, but what stopped you in your tracks were the warm heavily saturated stains of blood that had seeped into the cut fabric. He’d sent you these before, but never in this condition. The two of you had a running joke that he could damage any clothing or armor he wore in a fight, so long as he came home unharmed. But this didn’t seem like it came from someone else, if he had been wearing this then it had to be his blood. Picking up the paper, you looked again for a ransom note, a threatening letter, anything that would tell you that he was still alive, but there was nothing else. He was gone and there was nothing you could do about it.

You felt a sob forming as a different kind of pain tore through you. It was a kind of pressure that brought you to your knees, crying out as Mrs. Lee rushed to your side. She helped you to the edge of the bed, helping you to lay back as she wiped the tears from your eyes.

“It’s going to be alright Y/N, we’re gonna get through this.”

“I can’t- I can’t do this alone. I’m not ready.”

Mrs. Lee takes your hand and squeezes it in hers, “You’re not alone, I’m right here with you

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, he’s gone.”

“Now that’s enough of that, you need to save your energy. I was trying to keep you from going into labor this soon, but it looks like it’s about time to push.” You shook your head at Mrs. Lee’s words as you tried to delay the inevitable. As much as you attempted to stall your labor, your efforts had been in vain as you entered the hours of pushing. Your vision blurred from falling tears as you cried out for the one person who vowed to be by your side for moments like these, all the while knowing that he was never going to walk through that door again

“Angel, I’m here.” Yoongi’s voice called out as the doors were thrown open.

“You’re hurt,” you commented as you took his face between your hands. He had a large gash running down his face, the cut at first glance seeming to go through his eye as well. As you started to remove the blood it became clear that it had been a very narrow miss, but was deeper than you had hoped.

“It’s only a scratch.”

“Oh really, If that’s only a scratch then all this is but a stomach ache and I should be up and about in a few minutes at most.”

“That’s hardly a fair-” Unfortunately for Yoongi, whatever argument he had planned was soon cut off by your yelling at yet another contraction. He climbed into the bed behind you, holding your hand as you cursed him for putting you in your current position.

Whomever said that the pain of childbirth disappeared from one’s memory the second they held their child was horribly wrong, and you wanted nothing more than to personally stab that person in the stomach so that they could feel a fragment of everything you went through. And yet, when you looked at your newborn son it felt as though all that pain were worth it. Yoongi had somehow forgotten about all the horrible things you had called him during labor, or at least decided not to bring it up for a very long time. Your child had made an early and all too exciting entrance into the world, and all of you seemed to be recovering from this in one way or another.

Yoongi had been healing very well, but it became apparent that his wound would leave a scar. Not that you minded, he’d teased you about yours since the very first night the two of you had known each other intimately. Even now as you lie in bed he still traces the two lines on each side of your spine, pressing a kiss to each of the spots he claimed must have held the wings of an angel before you had fallen.

“I think we’ve earned ourselves at least a full day of napping.” Yoongi commented, already pulling the covers over the two of you.

“Just one?” You asked, “If you ask me I think we should try and break our old record and try for at least two and a half days of sleep.”

“When did we,” he paused as the memory dawned on him, “Are you talking about the New Year’s when we were snowed in with the Park family. I remember being in bed for most of that weekend, but I don’t recall much sleep going on at the time.”

“I was talking about after all of that, we ended up being so tired that we spent our last couple days asleep. We could have gotten a few more hours of rest if their staff hadn’t woken us up.”

“Well, there’s no one to bother us now. And our son is sound asleep, so I think we should be too.”

The two of you glanced at the tiny figure in the crib across from you, he looked so small and fragile but you had been relieved to know that he would continue to grow into a strong and healthy young boy. He was only a few days old and you were already starting to notice that he had formed his dad’s same habit of oversleeping, “Hey Yoongs, I’m happy he takes after you.”

#yoongi x reader #bts fic #bts ff #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts fanfic #yoongi fic

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lucy-the-cat · 3 years ago

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Lover's Curse Chapter Twenty Four - Into the Fire

Mare

“Could you repeat that, darling? I’m not sure he understood.” Maven leans forward, savoring the horror creeping across his brother’s face. “At least, I presume that’s why his mouth hangs open like a particularly stupid fish.”

I stare Cal in the eye. “Speaking to a mirror would be appropriate, considering your inability to amend your terms. No competent man would have assumed them reasonable. Don’t posture to us.”

He hardens. “So there’s an ‘us’ now, is there?”

“Of course there is.” Maven chuckles. “Lovers often act as a united front.”

Iris coughs. “We’re married.”

“Yes.” He gives her a pointed look. “We are.”

Crap. Shouldn’t have thrown her name around this morning. “Darling, I think we’re getting off track.”

“Are we? You’re the one who interjected.” Cal’s eyes narrow. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Maven holds my hand aloft like a prized gem. “Don’t hold back. You’ve been waiting for this opportunity for months.”

Across from us, Farley rolls her eyes. If his posturing annoys me, she must be plotting his death as we speak.

My nails dig into his palm. He better hold his end of the bargain. “If you don’t understand how negotiation works, shut up. The adults are talking.”

“I agree.” Queen Cenra rises from her seat, and the tension rises with her. “Let the adults speak.”

Her voice ripples through the room, slicing through any retort I might throw at her. She’s been queen for longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than Cal’s been alive. She was crowned in the same era as Tiberias VI, without a Merandus to muddy her mind.

“Did you have something to add, Your Majesty?” Maven is unfazed. “You’ve been silent awhile.”

“Nothing has been worthy of my time thus far. All you’ve done is bicker and moan.”

“Yes.” Maven sighs. “My brother has been quite unprofessional.”

“You’re the one who keeps insulting me.”

“Weren’t we discussing a treaty?” If he draws this out any longer, I’m going to scream. “Not surrender, necessarily, but some terms we mutually agree on.”

“No. Pretty sure this meeting’s about your personal drama.” Evangeline snorts. “By all means, continue. It’s hilarious.”

“Evangeline.” I turn to her, shifting my sleeve to reveal a familiar bracelet. “We were on poor terms last we met. Allow me to rectify that.”

She twitches. “Elane sends her regards.”

“A gift.” I unclasp it from my wrist. “From one princess to another.”

Maven rolls his eyes. Good. Think this a meaningless mind game. I don’t need him looking closer, close enough to see the paper peeking between the metal strands.

We’ve already too much to punish each other for.

Evangeline accepts it after a moment’s hesitation, clipping it on with a haughty snort. “I have twice the claim to royalty that you do. More so.”

“Perhaps.” I smile. “It’s not a competition.”

Maven would never grant me concessions if I asked directly. No matter how logical my reasoning, the risk of alienating his allies would be too great. But if I twist them into knives at Cal’s back . . . how could he resist?

Millions of reds. Cal’s feelings.

Why is this so hard?

“What of our electricity?” I mark the grey factories with red circles. “Surely you have plans to restructure its production.”

Anabel rolls her eyes. “You have a one-track mind.”

Maven gestures to his brother. “Could be worse. There are some who have no mind at all.” He smirks. “But you prefer those people, don’t you? All the easier to manipulate.”

Cal twitches. He’s hit some version of truth, however twisted.

Time to twist it further.

“I hope your grandson can speak for himself.” I rattle my fingers against the table. “His proposal was so flimsy, I’m not convinced it was his.”

Maven laughs. “It’s the suggestion I’d make if I wanted to sabotage him. Someone doesn’t want this war to end.”

No one moves.

“So,” I hunch over the paper, heart pounding. “About our electri--”

“What about it?” Anabel snaps.

I laugh. “You can’t possibly think it’s sustainable. If you force people to work in clouds of poison, they fall ill and die. And they die faster when their salary doesn’t buy enough food for the month. That factory is a timebomb, and the only reason it hasn’t imploded is thanks to the resilience of your Reds.” I study my nails. “And they’re growing impatient.”

“What of the solution I suggested when we discussed this earlier?” Liar, liar, I wanna set him on fire. He might let me if I ask nicely. “A maximum work week and a minimum wage.”

“Wouldn’t that cause riots?” Cal wrinkles his brow. “The country needs electricity. I’m not sure we could handle a shortage.”

“Difficult as it is to believe, people produce more when they’re rested and well-fed.” I flash my teeth. “I can starve you for a day if you’d like a demonstration.”

Maven smirks. “I’d take that offer. It’s not like you have many chances to spend time with her.”

Cal has no response.

“Enough.” Cenra glares at us both. “I’m tired of this. Make an offer or don’t. Stop wasting my time.”

“Very well. We are done here.” He tugs my arm, hooking it with his own. “Come.”

My heart pounds. I’d gotten more from this meeting than I had from months of scheming. Maybe I’d been going about this the wrong way.

Imagine all the things I could do if I worked with him instead of plotting his downfall.

Participants get up to leave, and I take the opportunity to slip away while Maven is preoccupied with a fuming Cenra. Farley meets me in a secluded corner.

“You must be real proud of yourself. Parading about your new boy toy. Making us all look like fools.” She leans against the wall. “Savoring the tiny morsels your master tosses you.”

“I’m confused. Am I a duplicitous slut or a lovestruck idiot?”

“A few laws aren't going to change anything. You think he cares about blood equality?” She scoffs. “He’s a Silver king. His interests will never align with yours.”

“What would you have me do, stage a coup and take the throne for myself? I’m working with what I have.”

Silence.

“Do you have any idea what it was like, watching him return without you? Having to explain to Ruth you chose to stay behind?” She closes her eyes. “Hearing your title announced and knowing what it must mean?”

“I made a calculated decision.”

“He’s a monster.”

“Afraid to muddy your hands?”

Farley sighs. “You don’t have to do this. Look at Montfort. We can build a new society, without blood division, without consorts, without kings. Please. Come home. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“Strange. You had no problem allying with the Rift.”

She leans closer. “Cal won’t sit on the throne, not if we can help it. It’s Silver against Silver, and we will rise from the rubble, red as the dawn.”

“How do you know it’ll be you?”

Farley stills.

“Who says another group won’t take power? One far worse than Maven ever was.” I don’t blink. “The public thinks you’re a band of terrorists. You think you can maintain control in a democracy?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’ll take a lot of bloodshed and sacrifice to build the world you want. Who do you think will pay that price? Because it won’t be Silvers.” My voice is steel. “The powerful are never the first to fall.”

“That won’t happen. It didn’t for Montfort.”

“It happened once. Who says it’ll happen again?” I clench a fist. “You hold a lot of lives in your hands, Diana. I would love to see the world you want come to pass. But I won’t sneer my nose at reform in pursuit of utopia.

She twitches. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not speaking to you as a soldier. I’m speaking as a friend.”

“My friend is dead. Mare Barrow would never have let him touch her.” Farley’s eyes flare. “He’s broken you, and you’re in denial.”

“I thought you’d understand.” Stupid eyes. Stupid tears. “This is what I’m best at.”

Her eyes narrow. “Shade would be proud.”

I reel. The ground tears beneath me, and I’m at Samson’s mercy, speared and shaking as Shade collapses to the ground. You did this. You did this.

You spit on his grave.

Arms wrap around me, a sharp voice piercing the noise. “Stick to your ruffians, General. My consort has no need to justify herself to you.”

Warm. He’s so warm and gentle and chaining, chaining and claiming me as his own, branding me on the collarbone as he holds me by the throat at Harbor Bay. Monster. Gentle monster. My monster.

I shiver.

Maven kisses my cheek. “It’s alright, darling. I’m here. I won’t let her hurt you.”

“That’s your job,” I whisper.

He doesn’t disagree.

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tsuncda · 3 years ago

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book trope tag game

thanks for tagging me @amortensie! your choices were all superb, btw.

tagging: anyone who’s a reader and wants to do this!

— what are your top 5 book tropes?

in no particular order...

found family/sibling bonds (i come from a large family myself, so really what i just love is seeing wildly different people interacting and creating strong relationships with one another. it’s about the bickering and the solemn vows and the willingness to die for the other even though you find them annoying as hell. a good example would be the pevensies from narnia or the crows from six of crows.)

rivals (or begrudging allies) to lovers (it’s about the fact that they probably hate each other for stupid, arbitrary reasons that get broken down and you realize it’s actually just self-hate, and through the course of their story we get to see them accept themselves and accept the other and-)

vengeance turn tragic acceptance (this is the one where the ~mysterious`~ character is out for revenge for something that happened to someone they care about deeply, and through the entire story they have people who are trying to tell them that revenge probably isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, and in the end, it ends with them crying and really leaning on the friends they’ve made on the way to cope with the tragedy of it all. you know what i’m talking about. it’s the good stuff. an easy example would be katara in the southern raiders episode.)

generational saga (this is the one where you read the story of the main character, then the main characters kids, then the main characters grandkids. it’s the legacy theme for me, and the general chaos of the main character’s family. a good example would be the warrior cats series or even the hobbit and the lord of the rings.)

friends to lovers (we all knew we were getting here. it’s about how they’re already so in it. they both care so much, and they have the history that makes them so comfortable with the other. it’s about the mutuals pining (a close 6th trope) and the way they just know each other. so precious. so sweet. an example, you ask? how about jacin x winter from the lunar chronicles? i remember that being good.)

— what book tropes do you hate?

in no particular order...

jealous mean girl as an obstacle in main couple’s relationship (nixie got it right when she mentioned this one. it’s tired. can’t girls be more than a part of a petty rivalry over a man?)

miscommunication (i hate it with every fibre of my being when things could be fixed if two people actually talked to each other. it’s especially bad when it’s used as drama in a love story because ohmygod,,,,, how did you two get together in the first place if you can’t carry a cONVERSATION. it’s doubly bad when one person tries to explain but the other is just like,,,,, “i don’t want to hear it. all you do is lie.” like,,,, lisTEN AND MAYBE IT WILL MAKE SENSE.)

“i have brothers” (did you guys know that it’s possible for girls to have interests in things that aren’t particularly feminine for no other reason than they find them interesting? did you know that women are able to like and fix cars? and like football? and throw knives or whatever the hell else? wild concept, am i right?)

woman gets killed off so man can have a vengeance arc (now this might sound hypocritical since i love a good vengeance arc but here’s the difference - good revenge happens because the one who died had an actual personality and wants and needs. area man who loses his beau is 90% of the time a forced backstory and it’s done so main villain can be bitter about something. the woman who was actually killed off has little to no appearance in the story, and she’s only ever talked about as the bad thing that happened to a poor boy who was once good and is now justifying murder. i’m tired. have you ever heard about depth??)

— if you could live one book trope, which would it be?

idk if this is a trope, but the quest. just going on a soul searching trip with my bffs, saving a town along the way, creating a found family, and dealing with the life changing quest and finally settling down at the end of the story, sitting in your house and writing all of your adventures down.... yeah.

#tagged

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devourer--of--books · 4 years ago

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tagatha dating simulator au

- It’s sunday night and local college student, Agatha, hasn’t sleep in two days, practically glued to her chair at the library, trying to absorb the maximum of information she possibly could before finals on monday morning.

- Sitting across from her is her roommate and best friend, Sophie, who doesn’t seem nearly as concerned, playing a game on her phone. Mostly because she already failed half of her courses and is considering dropping out of college to pursue a modeling career, why try at this point-

- Agatha appreciates that Sophie is keeping her company, she really does, but even if her friend was using headphones, Agatha can still hear the background music and the voice actors very clearly. That on its own was distracting enough, but it was always the same lines, with the background music looping as Sophie restarted the game prologue over and over again.

- Around the fifth time she hears the app-staring-exclamation ‘milady!’ her eye starts twitching.

- By the twelfth she slams her book shut, earning herself a glare from all the remaining students in the library.

- “How terrible do you have to be at a game to not be able to get through the prologue?” she whisper-shouts, taking the sit beside Sophie, looking at the screen.

- “That’s not the problem,” her friend defends, proceeding to explain the game.

- Trial by Tale is a recently released dating simulator that has managed to gather a cult-like following. The game was praised for its diverse range of LIs, well-written routes, stellar voice acting, high-quality art style and a beautiful soundtrack. It was apparently highly addicting as well, as Agatha had never seen Sophie be that invested in... any game... like, ever.

- Basically, the main character was transported inside a fairytale-fantasy-like world, where they were introduced as a ‘reader’ to compete in the ‘trial by tale’, a inter-worldly tournament, set up by a mysterious entity (a magical pen known as ‘the storian’), in which the winner would be granted an unconditional wish.

- “Original,” Agatha snorts.

- “Can you just shut up and listen?”

- During the prologue, the main character meets most of the main LIs and according to the player’s decisions, the game would put them into a specific route, based on affection levels with each datatable character.

- There were about thirty bad endings for the casual route (where the player either made stupid choices or didn’t gather enough affection with any LI), ranging from mildly sad to terribly gory. Then, each route had five early bad endings, that could happen during the trial, resulting in the main character’s death.

- If the player managed to win the tournament with the LI, bargaining with the storian for the survival of two competitors, then two new endings would be unlocked: a normal ending, in which the reader would wish to go home and a happy ending, in which the reader wished to remain forever in the fairytale world living happily ever after with their partner.

- “And that’s where it gets weird,” Sophie pauses, opening up the Trial By Tale wiki page. “Every single LI has a walkthrough and seven possible endings.”

- She shows Agatha a bunch of characters, offering some commentary on their personalities and backstories. Then, she pauses at the last. "All but one." The character is the prettiest, if not a bit too perfect. ‘Tedros of Camelot’, it says on the top of his page, his basic info and biography listed to the side, but it’s full of gaps, blanks and ‘???’s. It was mentioned that he was a dateable character, yet no walkthrough was provided.

- “Why doesn’t it say anything? Has he not been released?”

- “No one has managed to get his route so far, but according to the game developers, it’s possible. We don’t even know what his voice sounds like.”

- “And you think you will because…?”

- “I’m me. I’m getting Tedros’ route even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

- Agatha decides to leave her be, going back to the books, while asking for her to at least lower the volume.

- An hour or so goes by until Sophie grows hungry and decides to leave the library, going back to the dorm. After that, Agatha finally manages to concentrate, and time goes by in a flash.

- In fact, it passes so quickly that she’s not even sure what time it was. When did everyone leave?

- Her phone is dead and the clock on the wall is frozen at midnight. Probably broken, Agatha decides. It couldn’t be midnight, the lights were still on, the library closed at 10:30pm sharp and no one came to kick her out. She was tired, but she wasn’t deaf. She calls for the librarian.

- All the lights turn off at once. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t freak her out a bit.

- Then, she notices a blue glow from under the table. Please don’t let it be a demon.

- It’s a smartphone, with a bedazzled case, a loading blue screen emitting the light. Trial By Tale’s soundtrack starts to play and soon enough the words appear. Touch anywhere to start. That was Sophie’s phone. Which would be fine and normal and okay if Agatha wasn’t pretty sure Sophie left with it.

- The music starts to loop, and Agatha uses the light to guide her to the entrance, only to find it locked. Every other exit was blocked as well. Ha. Funny.

- Eventually, she surrenders, clicking on the screen, trying to close the app. The last thing she hears is ‘milady!’ and everything turns black as she feels the floor disappear from under her feet, her consciousness fading as she fell into an abyss of darkness.

- She wakes up lying on grass, near a gate, the words Trial By Tale engraved on top of it.

- She pinches herself, feeling it sting as she stared at the gate, pinching harder and harder to the point she nearly screamed in pain. The gate was still there. Agatha focus on her senses. She’s never able to smell things on her dreams.

- This place smells like dirt, pines, dried blood and iron.

- It’s a dream, she tries to convince herself. Very vivid dream, but it’s a dream.

- A bunch of floating text appears in front of her: Welcome, competitors!

- The storian tells Agatha everything Sophie already told her: it’s a tournament, in which 40 teens from different fairytale kingdoms, including the reader world, must compete amongst themselves for survival during 24 hours. You could pair up with someone, forming an alliance, but there could only be one winner. Then, the world froze, turning black and white, three options appearing in thin air:

A: I’m a boy

B: I’m a girl

C: I’m neither/both/something else.

- Agatha experiments. The text didn’t respond to her voice or gestures; she had to touch it. B. They disappeared up in smoke, being replaced by a new choice:

A: climb over the gate early

B: go in as soon as the gong goes off

C: run into the woods

- All of those sound horrible, she’ll hang around here, thank you very much.

- Agatha decides to pick B, because it sounded the least likely to get her killed. Tapping the option, color returns and more texts appears, telling her the rest of the rules. Apparently, all forms of magic and weapons were allowed, as it was a tournament to the death.

- Well, she had neither a weapon nor any magic, geez, things were certainly looking up.

- A gong can be heard and Agatha waits for her legs to magically move according to her choice.

- They don’t.

- She debates on staying put for a few minutes, maybe way too many, but then she remembers: casual route endings vary from mildly sad to terribly gory. Agatha doesn’t wanna find out which one she’d get by sticking around.

- Her future now depends on her romancing one of these pieces of code. Thankfully, it was just a dream, right?

- Inside the arena (?), she gets some other choices, which Agatha uses to her advantage, trying to figure out which LI she was going for and how to win them over.

- Hort, according to her friend, was the easiest to please and the most boring of them all. Nicola was efficient and Sophie had managed to unlock her happy ending without a walkthrough. Aric was a psycho, and so was Japeth. Don’t pick Rhian, her friend had warned. Anadil was a hard one to guess without the walkthough, Hester was super hot and Agatha’s type but that could go very wrong (clearly her type wasn’t working out, as she was painfully single) and-

- Is that Japeth or Rhian? She can’t tell, but he’s coming her way.

A: introduce yourself

B: try to kill him

C: hide behind the rock

- She chooses C, but climbs a tree instead, because he surely would be able to see her behind the rock, was he blind or something?

- “You sure are taking your time choosing,” a voice whispers from the branch above her, nearly giving her a heart attack, “...first time player maybe? Or just dumb?”

- Tedros, the mysterious character, was looking down at her, resting on a higher branch.

- Agatha glares at him before blurting: “You’re shorter than you look on your CG.”

- He chokes. “You can hear me?”

- “Why are you british?” she notices the accent, given how different it sounded from all the other voice actors.

- “I’m bi,” he frowns at her in offended confusion.

- (The himbo energy in this bus is astronomical.)

- They bicker a bit and Japeth grows suspicious of the hushed conversation, nearing the tree. Tedros asks for her help taking him down. Agatha is like, sure, whatever at this point, just trying to forget that Tedros broke the fourth wall. It’s a dream, don’t overthink too much.

- She distracts Japeth, and Tedros tries to ambush him, but it backfires horribly, resulting in Tedros now being a few seconds away from dying a very very painful death.

A: run away

B: ally yourself with Japeth

- Agatha hesitates over option A, convincing herself that Tedros wasn’t a real person. He was a just a character in a game. But while the entire world is black and white waiting for her answer, she swears his eyes remain icy blue.

- Trick of the light?

- She presses A but throws herself towards Japeth, colliding with him. Agatha ends up being stabbed in the arm, but otherwise fine, which is more than Japeth can say, as he fell into a conveniently located black hole. That hurt like a bitch, how is this a dream?

- Tedros is shook.

- “What did you do? How did you even-” he eyes the blood in her arm. “You’re bleeding!” Tedros rips his shirt to wrap it around the wound, and Agatha does her best not to stare at him while he tends to the wound.

- A blue ribbon in the sky tells Agatha she is now on Tedros’ route. A ribbon they can both read.

- “That’s… troublesome.”

- “What, is your route cursed or something?”

- “...”

- “It’s totally cursed, isn’t it?”

- They argue a bunch and Agatha tries to ditch him but ends up almost dying twice. Tedros saves her, and insists that since he accidentally gave her his route, he’ll help her stay alive for as long as he can.

- Together they figure out that Agatha’s ability to disobey the game choices might be able to uncurse his route, hopefully sending her home by the end and resetting the game as it was meant to be, allowing people play his route.

- Agatha is pretty sure Tedros is not telling her something, but she kinda does owns him her life now (“2x1, sucks to suck, reader.”) and he offered to share some of his food and hiding spot with her. Doesn’t hurt that he clearly knew how to fight and had a big sword, while Agatha had.... free will and nothing else apparently???

- They end up talking over fruits and water (we love a healthy king) in a cave and Agatha finds out basically every other character’s backstory, learning a ton about the context of these trials as well as what the game felt like for the characters.

- According to Tedros, every other character was doomed to repeat the same route and actions following the reader’s choices, only to lose all memories by the end, as the game reseted. They were all blissfully ignorant of the fact that this was, in fact, a dating simulator. All of them but Tedros. When Agatha asks him why, he closes off:

- “Every single character has a core wish they want fulfilled. It can be the same wish every time, or it can change once your route resets. My original wish contradicted the memory reset, so no one has been able to play my route at all. And if no one plays, I can’t reset. If you go home and the game resets, I’ll make a different wish and my route should be fixed for good.”

- Agatha doesn’t ask what he wished for and he doesn’t tell her either; it feels like way too personal of a question for strangers eating berries in a cave.

- She does ask him what his new wish will be, though.

- “I’ll restore my kingdom back to its former glory,” he starts, a certain sadness in his eyes. “They deserve a prince who doesn’t waste time wishing for-” Tedros interrupts himself, telling her about his kingdom instead.

- Agatha knows he’s related to King Arthur due to his name on the Trial By Tale wiki, but she’s surprised that he actually gives her that info willingly. He is indeed the prince of Camelot, but his mother abandoned the palace when he was nine and then his father died a few years later, sending the kingdom into despair and disgrace.

- (“That’s rough, buddy.”)

- To lighten the mood, she decides to tell him about ‘the reader world’.

- “To exist in your world might be something then,” he smiles, “I mean, beats hanging around here. You said you have a machine that can play music anytime you want?”

- Tedros is fascinated with everything and asks her about all sorts of stuff, like about politics, lgbtqa+ rights, tik tok, food, the economy, school and fashion trends. Also, memes, lots of memes.

- They spend like 8 hours straight hidden in a cave, just talking, bickering and actually having a lot of fun. The lack of choices even makes her forget she was still in a game.

- Tedros notices how tired she looks and offers to keep watch while she sleeps.

A: say no as a joke

B: outright refuse

- Agatha taps A.

- “Sure, do you mind if I lean on you though?”

- Is this like a date or are we like doing my route and you’re sleeping on my arm platonically? Tedros is shook, part 2.

- Agatha tries not to fall asleep, but she does take a nap, leaning on his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, an hour later she’s still alive, but her head was now on his lap and he was petting her hair.

- “Hi.”

A: get up

B: kiss him

- She doesn’t wanna get up, but she doesn’t really feel like kissing him would be appropriate for the moment. She presses B, yet remains still for next few minutes. Tedros looks a bit disappointed, as if he was waiting for her.

- “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

- “Do you want me to?”

- He doesn’t reply immediately, running his fingers through her hair. “Everyone wants to kiss me. I’m hot, I’m a prince and I’m rich.”

- “You’re gonna need to do better than that to get me to kiss you,” Agatha tells him. “If we survive this I’ll kiss you once, just before we unlock your normal ending and I go home. For a CG.”

- “But then I won’t remember it at all.”

- The comment makes her nervous. Once this is over and Tedros gets his route unlocked, he’s gonna be just another character. He’ll say things like that to everyone. Agatha has to chastise herself for growing attached to a video game character. He’s not real. He wasn’t yours to begin with, you’ve known him for less than a day. Get a grip.

- They stay in silence until another gong goes off, the storian’s text showing up in the air: “12 hours left. Only 10 competitors remain.”

A: stay in the cave

B: leave

- Agatha chooses B and they head out of the cave to see who else was alive, just in time to not be crushed under heavy rocks. Strangely they don’t bump into anyone. What they do run into, though, is a bunch of traps and creatures meant to randomly eliminate competitors. Great.

- Somehow, Agatha always chooses the right option and alters her actions just enough to save them at the last minute. Is she a pro-gamer? One can only marvel at how lucky she’s been getting in this game. No, but like, really, is she? Tedros is impressed.

- At the 6 hour mark, there’s 4 people left, including the two of them. He’s been eyeing Agatha weirdly and she doesn’t know what to think of it because she liked hanging out with him, but at the same time, he is a piece of code.

- There’s like, a dramatic confrontation with the other two competitors, which turn out to be Aric and Hester, not as a pair, but as individuals, and it ends up working out in Tedros and Agatha’s favor, as those two end up murdering each othe while Tedros and Agatha have the advantage of teamwork. It’s a great action sequence, but if you’ve read this far, I’m pretty sure you’re not here for the action.

- Anyway, the storian appears, but unlike the other routes, instead of giving Agatha the opportunity to bargain for them both to survive, her options are:

A: kill Tedros

B: kill Tedros

- Agatha doesn’t tap either. She stays still, glaring at the pen while the world remained black and white.

- Then, the entire arena starts to shake, the game glitching as Tedros moves, his colors fading in and out, his expression tortured, as if just smiling at her was painful, his eyes glowing unnaturally blue. “Let’s get you home,” he mouths, before stabbing himself with his own sword, falling to the floor as the colors returned for good.

- Agatha couldn’t breathe, kneeling beside him.

- “To meet someone who’d love me for me,” he admits, bleeding out into the ground, a single tear running down his face. “That was my original wish. And then I met you.”

- She kisses him on the lips, and as you know, true love’s kiss breaks every spell, heals every wound and transcends the limits of storytelling.

- Tedros’ chest is slowly healing, but just as he gets stronger, Agatha grows weaker, starting to disappear through his fingers in rays of lights, back to the reader’s world, leaving a lonely prince by himself in a bloody arena with a magical pen.

- “Unconditional wish for the winner, hm?”

- Back at the library, Agatha wakes up with a snap, falling off her chair.

- The clock on the wall reads 10pm and the few students left at the library glare at her. She hurries to gather her things in her arms, going back to her dorm trying to make sense of what just happened. It was all a dream. It had to be because her arm is intact. She has been running on too much caffeine, finals start the next morning, she was stressed, that’s all.

- Sophie is still playing the game once Agatha arrives at the dorm, and as soon as she walks in, her friend tells her the news:

- “See, darling, I told you I’d get Chaddick’s route eventually!”

- Chaddick’s route?

- Agatha doesn’t even reply, going straight to bed, still haunted. That night, she has no dreams of handsome boys in caves, neither does she dream of blue-eyed princes bleeding out.

- Monday afternoon, though, a distracted Agatha is walking back to her dorm after taking her exams, when she bumps into someone, nearly knocking her over. She is about to yell at the stranger when her voice gets caught on her throat.

- “To exist in your world might be something,” the familiar stranger smiles at her, “I mean, I’m Tedros Pendragon, nice to meet you.”

#school for good and evil #The School for Good and Evil #sge #agatha x tedros #Tagatha #tedros of camelot #Agatha of camelot #Agatha of Woods Beyond

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

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WS Chapter 47- Fire and Brimstone

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

So.....i didn’t have the chance to fully edit this. I got some really unwelcome news followed by an argument, and suddenly it was almost 8:30. If there’s any mistakes, feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask.

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Avon was on watch, but Ecto slips into the darkness without her friend noticing. Normally, all three wanderers try to sleep close together. To minimize the threat of attack, and to make packing up easier. Plus, cuddles. But since their fight, Ecto had distanced herself. Kept the fire between herself and the others. She ate alone, she curled up to sleep alone. She was used to being alone- that’s how she was for most of her life.

So leaving alone shouldn’t have been so hard. But it was. It took all her strength not to turn around, to return to the warmth and comfort that the fire, that her friends offer. Ecto was not backing down- not now. She’s decided what she’ll do. She can’t sit around and let people decide her fate, sit around and watch things happen. She was going to stand, and fight. Put herself between the danger and those who aren’t as strong willed as her. And get to bash a few enemies in the process was a bonus.

Ecto didn’t know how to make a nether portal- rather, she didn’t know how to make obsidian. She tried to rip it apart from a pond of cooled lava a few days back, but the fragile volcanic glass shattered in her hands. It was while Ecto was watching rain fall, cooling the lava into the black stone that she realized what she can do.

She may not have the tools to mine obsidian, but she does have two buckets and two pools of liquid nearby. It’s a consuming process, dangerous at best. Lava pours from the heated bucket, and she has to be quick to douse the flames before they burn down the forest around her. She singes her fingers and hair a few times, but manages to construct an obsidian rift frame. Ecto takes a step back, counting to make sure she has the right dimensions. The black frame is imposing, volcanic glass absorbing and refracting light away from the structure.

Ecto pulls out the flint and steel, looking over her shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s looking out for, or searching for. Maybe she’s searching for prying eyes- either the hellspawns or her own friends. Maybe she’s hoping her friends will see her, join her. But the only other creature watching as she ignites the portal is a pig. And even the pig flees. Ecto gets a shiver in her spine, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that this is a stupid, dangerous idea.

Which is why she jumps in before her body can hesitate. Ecto has grown used to the feeling of traveling between worlds and dimensions. She’s used to the feeling of everything and nothing, used to feeling like she’s hungry and full, used to being in unbearable agony and perfect euphoria.

But it still doesn’t mean she’s able to catch herself when she stumbles to the other side. She goes crashing into the red dirt. It’s clumpy, like clay rather than soil, staining her skin and clothes the color of blood. Ecto checks to make sure it isn’t actually blood, breathing out relief when she clears herself.

Ecto stands to her feet, looking around. So this is the Nether, the one thing Avon fears above everything else. It’s hot...really hot, and that’s coming from Ecto. She looks up, trying to find the sun as she walks. It has to be the sun that is making this so-

She catches herself before she drops into lava. One foot already over the ledge, she practically jumps back from the sizzling sea of molten rock. Okay, it’s not the sun. It’s entire lakes and seas of lava. Grey sand catches on Ecto’s feet as she walks the beach, the grain sticking to her shoes and wisping across with her. Dragging her down, making her slower. She swears it feels like hands are on her feet, and with each step she can hear a distant scream. Is that the sand? Or some creature she’s yet to lay her eyes on? She feels like she’s walking in a massive cavern. There is no sky, only more and more of this netherrack and soulsand. Not the endless void of the End, or the midnight sky of the Overworld. The only light comes from the sea of fire below her, or the few deposits of glowing stone above her head. Starbursts of yellow light, across the angry red scene before her.

Sometimes, when Ecto is walking, she passes by slight changes in the nether. The air grows cooler, calmer. Beneath her feet, she notices the netherrack has been disturbed. Blue and red fungus buried in their own soil, crushed and overturned. She can see the roots of trees, long cut and burned away. She crouches down, picking up a broken vine. The cut is clean- cut with a tool.

At first, Ecto can’t see the fortress. The red brick blends in with the red wall and the red ceiling and the red mist that it’s hard to outline. It’s not until she gets closer, noticing the heavy foot traffic in the netherrack that Ecto understands where she is. The fortress rises from the netherrack, grand staircases and fences in the same uniform style and color as the rest of the building. Pylons emerge from the sea of fire, holding up open air bridges high in the cavern. Square, enclosed buildings rise from the bridges, guarded by beasts that seem to be aflame as they move. Blazing, curling and turning like dancing fire as they hover. Definitely not something Ecto wants to deal with.

She ducks into the long halls, the tunnels along the bridges. She can hear murmuring in the distance, and the ringing of metal against metal echoing down the halls. While initially drawn towards the sound of a fight, Ecto backs off. Avon was right about one thing- they’re outmatched. And as long as they have the dragon egg, as long as they have the upper hand, the wanderers will continue to only be runaways. She’s not here to fight a battle- she’s here to win a war. Hit them where it hurts.

It’s been a long time since Ecto’s been alone. How long have the wanderers been travelling? The heat does remind her of her desert, a comfortable warmth that she does her best not to get distracted by. She misses the hot, dry climate of her home biome. And now, she finds that she’s starting to miss the presence of friends. She’s so used to being alone, why now does it bother her? Why does she wish for Red’s bouncing enthusiasm, Avon calm demeanor? She doesn’t need them to do this. She can do this by herself. She didn’t need to wait for them to forget her, to leave her.

She left them. Ecto jumps into a patch of warty fungi, ducking under a staircase as armored footsteps march down the stairs. She covers her mouth and nose with a wrapped mask, tight and secure along her lower face. Muffling her harsh breath, and filtering a little bit of the awful brimstone scent in the air. How does anyone learn to live with this scent, like chicken eggs left in a chest for too long?

Ecto slips down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as her lanky body can let her. She pulls her scarves close, and runs across the hard netherbrick like she’s running across sand. Soft footsteps in bouncing strides that disturb as little as possible. She peeks down the corridors, slips up staircases, edges around lava pits.

Until she stops. At first, the voices sound exactly like Red and Avon. Red’s lighter, higher toned voice against Avon’s pitchy chatter. Except the tone of Red’s voice is sharp, like a knife cutting through their enemy, while Avon’s doesn’t have the husky tone from years of disuse.

That’s not Red and Avon. They haven’t followed Ecto into the end. It’s their antithesis- Blu and Nova. And Endo. “Would you just shut up already, Nova? You don’t need to go telling the whole goddamn barrack about this brilliant master plan.”

“It’s not like you came up with it in the first place.” Blu posits, blade swinging in lazy circles as they come around the corner. Ecto crams herself into a high up corner, dark and hopefully out of view of the hellspawns. She could’ve run, or hidden beneath the stairs- but that’s just not her train of thought.

“But I’m the best one to explain to the rest of the army! What, would you rather Endo bores this entire squadron to death with her long winded essays on perfect battle strategy and undercutting the enemy?” Nova whacks her hand against Blu’s head, embers bursting from the firey hair tied back in a short ponytail. “And I doubt your rattled mind even knows what the plan is.”

“I know that we need to do something with that egg.” Blu hisses. “And I know that this would all be over with already if we could just kill off those three idiots!”

Endo shakes her head, the slick magma of her hair shifting color but hardly moving. “No matter how much we raize the nether, warped forests and fungi keep regrowing. The warped magic is coming from the End, but we can only guess that crimson magic is invading from the overworld.”

“Of course it is. That place is freaky and weird enough, it just had to spill over and start growing shit all over the nether. But what does that have to do with the egg?” The trio pass by, hardly walking in unison. In fact, Ecto couldn’t say any of the three look remotely like friends, or even allies. They’re bodies are tense, especially when on gets too close to another. Ecto isn’t sure if he’s ever heard them not fighting- not just bickering like Ecto and Avon sometimes do, but full on attacking one another. Ecto leans out, trying to listen in as the hellspawns keep walking on.

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Endo stops, letting the others screech to a halt. Endo doesn’t look over her shoulders, but a horrible chill goes down Ecto’s spine all the same. “A little far from home, aren’t you Overlander?”

#sorry for my shitty mood #i just really don't want to deal with stuff anymore #wandering stars #ecto #avon #red #minecraft #mineblr #minesona #mcsona #minecraft persona

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chubbyooo · 4 years ago

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Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 87 - Echoes of Her Memory

ooo dear I feel evil but ill feel eviler soon Zash has been learning the ways of Magick but Kyradia is in hot pursuit but will her surroundings get the better of her

Terri had never been so bored in her life, she’d been protecting the ship for what felt like a month but was more likely a week, Zash was learning with the sisters and she wasn’t allowed to be there for some reason; she wondered what she’d done Zash had never put her on the sidelines before. Zash had said it was because she wanted the ship to be safe and ready in case the commander caught up again, she knew that made sense but she felt like something was off.

Still she had done as Zash said she had to trust her like she said, she slumped down in her chair her white hair draped over her head she’d already sewed 8 or so scarfs to pass the time but it hadn’t stopped the boredom. Terri was wearing all the scarfs for fun, each a different colour, it was something her and Lusari had done when they were bored at the academy, she felt a sudden twinge of sadness thinking about Lusari had they done the right thing? It didn’t feel like it when Zash was leaving her in the ship and after what the commander had said about admitting flaws, it seemed fairly arbitrary but why would the commander admit to being cruel and trying to be better. She didn’t know who to trust anymore the Jedi looked down on them and she never knew which sith were trustworthy, she’d tried to look up Zash but there wasn’t much about her apart from her ascension to Darth she couldn’t find anything too wrong with her but there was plenty on the commander.

She’d looked it up during the week during the Eternal War there were so many allies she had killed, some she got they messed up, but death? It seemed like too much but then again she’d saved the galaxy right? She didn’t know what to think about the Commander except she wouldn’t stop chasing them. Zash and her history was clearly complicated; she wondered if they could come to some sort of peace but it seemed unlikely with the commanders track record.

She’d thought about a lot of this stuff over the time she was watching the ship, she hadn’t really had a chance to stop and think for a while but it just left her with more worries than answers. She sighed she guessed she had to keep going; she didn’t know how else to honour Lusari and her wishes.

A little later her comm flickered to life and she answered it “Terri come in is everything good on your end?” Terri didn’t even move she’d heard this everyday

She sighed “yeah everythings great here I found a new level of boredom I didn’t know was possible, how’s learning awesome nightsister magic? oh I wish I knew” she’d become increasingly sulky each conversation they had

Zash just sighed “it’s going well I have managed to understand the basic manipulations of Magick, and don’t worry I will teach you at some point” Terri hoped so she wouldn’t mind a little advantage over the rest of the sith

Terri complained “why can’t I just learn it now Zash I’ve been here all week and there’s no sign of any people coming near the ship” she’d asked this before but thought why not maybe Zash would change her mind

Zash exhaled heavily clearly irritated “as I keep telling you with the rate the commander has been catching us she is likely to again and I doubt I can keep fighting all three of them off Terri so we need a quick escape until we’re ready ok” Terri pouted she was so sick of waiting around

Terri folded her arms “why can’t we just make peace with the commander she doesn’t seem so bad she’s trying to be better” Zash tutted shaking her head

She sighed “Terri she is clearly lying to you so she can expose your weakness, you saw what she did on Savereen she’d say anything to get what she wants she certainly did before she trapped me in that prison” she got very stern and serious “she is so bad and she won’t stop but we’re one step ahead right so we can win” Terri shrunk down she felt stupid of course the commander was lying to her

Terri nodded “yeah I guess you’re right I hadn’t considered she was lying about that too sorry, you said I should only trust you I was just frustrated” Zash nodded

She smiled “it’s ok Terri don’t worry it’s fair to be impatient but I have a lot to do so please for me keep it to a minimum” Terri nodded as the comm shut off she felt bad she was being pretty childish Zash was probably a lot more stressed…

Kyradia tapped her foot impatiently as they travelled towards Ragna III even when she’d been in control of their weird dream space Zash had still managed to get inside her head on Savereen, she had to be vigilant and careful she was already vulnerable and she couldn’t let Zash capitalise. Her mentor had been running circles around her like Kyradia hadn’t experienced in years she didn’t get how she kept getting outsmarted, the extreme power Zash had gained from the acolyte had definitely helped but now she wanted more and she wanted the source of Kyradia’s power. She shuddered Zash with that kind of power could do so much damage it certainly wouldn’t benefit anyone, Ashara had mentioned the Mirialan girl and about trying to get through to her. Kyradia knew what that position was like and wouldn’t wish it upon anyone but she could also expose a weakness in Zash, she had definitely told the girl one million lies already and it was going to be hard to untangle them.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as Ashara shook her “Kyradia are you ok you look really anxious” she clearly was worried and Kyradia appreciated that but there was little to be done about it

Kyradia sighed “I am Zash has been playing me like a fool and I’m worried it’s going to get worse and” she took a deep breath “I’m worried I’m gonna make another mistake like Ossus or… you” Ashara’s face softened and she hugged Kyradia

Kyradia fidgeted awkwardly really uncomfortable “we won't let that happen me and Malora will be right beside you I promise just like on Savereen right Malora” Malora was focussing on her device but gave a half assed nod which was about as good as she could’ve hoped for

Kyradia sighed “I know I know but every time I see her she gets to me I don’t know if I trust myself enough to face her, we have to stop her but… it’s getting to me” Ashara let go nodding and continuing to comfort her

She smiled “then let me take some of the burden you know I will I’m with you till the end whether I like it or not” she half laughed followed by a weak smile

Kyradia nodded “thanks Ashara you’re the best friend I could ask for” Ashara gave her a very genuine smile as the planet came into view, Kyradia took a deep breath and she was ready.

They made their way down to the surface but Kyradia couldn’t quite sense Zash she turned to the others “do you sense?-” Malora interrupted still staring at the tracker

She finished Kyradia’s sentence “the potent force energy yes it appears they are not the only force users here” without regard for the other two she walked out to the landing ramp “the nanobots are on the verge of decomposing so we need to find her coordinates soon” Kyradia would never understand the tech speak but Ashara peered over her shoulder

Ashara frowned “this is all we have to go on coordinates?” Malora ignored her as she confirmed the coordinates on her datapad

She turned to Ashara “so do you have a better way of tracking Zash you’ve been hiding from all of us” she frowned the friction between the two was clear

Ashara pouted “no but I’m just being cautious” Malora raised her eyebrow clearly whatever heart to heart they had didn’t stop their squabbling

Malora tutted “ah so you don’t have a plan so how about you trust me and follow me to the large caves to the west which match up perfectly with the last coordinates of the nanobots” Ashara scrunched up her face clearly livid as Malora passed the map to Kyradia

Kyradia had a look at it and she raised her eyebrow “it seems there’s some kind of tribal settlement do you think Zash went there?” Malora nodded as she got out a pair of goggles

She nodded “I believe it’s probable but why I’m not sure I thought she was collecting ingredients” Kyradia had to agree it was a little strange there was one reason she could think of but she’d rather not

Ashara shrugged “maybe the tribe have knowledge of how to collect the next ingredient” Kyradia hoped so as they began to walk

Malora was quick to grab Ashara’s collar as she walked ahead “hey what the Kriff Malora not cool” Malora tutted adjusting her goggles

She took out a small torch and bent down to break a tripwire “you’re welcome” a rope net zipped up in front of them “this area is likely to be trapped you need to be careful Ashara” Kyradia just stayed behind them looking at the sticks and little tribal structures she hated how eerily familiar they were

Ashara pouted “why didn’t you tell me this area was going to be trapped Malora” Kyradia already knew the response

Malora blinked her goggles briefly closing “I thought the goggles made it obvious but more importantly why wouldn’t you have expected traps Ashara you need to take care of yourself” Kyradia rolled her eyes had she and Andronikos ever been like that?

Ashara folded her arms “I’m more proficient in the force ok I’m not extremely spatially aware” Malora seemed to note it down in a datapad

She groaned “fine I will point them out to you and maybe I’ll make you a set of goggles when we get back” Kyradia walked past the two of them they’d be here all day if she let that continue

She rolled her eyes “can you two bicker and make up later we don’t have time for you exchanging gifts” they both looked embarrassed and followed Kyradia forward, the next hour Malora would point out and disable a trap and then move slightly closer to the cave whoever was here didn’t want visitors.

They reached the edge of the forest and Malora held them both back “I sense something strange but my goggles show no sign of a trap” she frowned looking to each of them, Kyradia could also sense something but she wasn’t sure what

Kyradia nodded “I sense it too but it’s not very strong we should be careful” they both nodded and slowly crept forward towards the cliff and the cave entrance around the side, Malora breathed a sigh of relief as nothing went wrong.

Kyradia frowned the area was weirdly flat she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the area it certainly seemed manmade

Ashara smiled “see no need to be so para-” as they spoke suddenly they all felt the ground beneath their feet disappear and they began to tumble down a hole where the floor had been

Kyradia felt herself fall and then slam against the ground she stood up getting her bearings, her eyes widened as she saw bars around her, to her left and right Malora and Ashara were in identical cells and a chamber lit by torches jutted out.

Malora groaned “you just had to say it didn’t you” she stood up as Kyradia looked around the room her eyes wide she recognised this design, the green flames, the tribal walkways with wispy mist underneath

Ashara stumbled up “hey I wasn’t going to anticipate a floor that disappears how did they do that” Kyradia looked back and forth and began to breathe heavily but concentrated and kept her mind on Zash she couldn’t let this get to her

She exhaled “Magick” as she said that two figures came round the corner dressed in those red wrappings that cause Kyradia to twitch nervously

Ashara gasped “Nightsisters” Kyradia wasn’t sure how much she’d told Ashara about the sisters themselves but she’d know about the Wrath at least “We gotta be careful” Kyradia nodded as they arrived

Malora frowned “I thought they were only native to Dathomir” the two reveal their hoods each sporting black hair with a sliver of white through it

The taller one tutted “oh well that’s the idea we’re not exactly an open organisation but you’re special acquisitions apparently” she turned to look at Kyradia “oh wow a Dathomiri Zabrak a rare commodity what did they do to you then” Kyradia twitched as she bit her lip trying to control her emotions

She snarled “don’t you talk to me like that” she concentrated and tried to stride out but slammed into the a green barrier causing her to become very dizzy and groggy as the force energy filled her brain

The sister laughed “Oh I wouldn’t do that this enchantment stops prisoners form being well difficult” Kyradia shook her head she knew this feeling

Ashara rattled the bars “let us out now” she drew her saber and slammed it against the barrier but it merely bounced off

Kyradia tried to get her bearings as the sisters laughed “the Outsider said some trouble would be coming and she also told us to bring the native” the barrier in front of Kyradia disappeared as she tried her best to fight them off before they jabbed something into her neck “I assume that’s you Zabrak, there that should dull your muscles” Kyradia felt as her muscles became extremely lethargic no she had to stop this she couldn’t let them take her not again

Malora snarled at them “you dare take her and I’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day” they grabbed Kyradia’s arms as she struggled to focus she’d fallen right into their trap just because she wanted to ignore the signs of her past her head was so muddled so many bad memories all at once

Ashara called out echoed due to Kyradia’s lethargic state “I promise we’ll get you out of this” Kyradia tried to nod as she felt the sisters drag her out of the chamber, she tried to struggle but her limbs wouldn’t obey she had to concentrate

The sisters seemed to talk as she was dragged but she couldn’t make it out, she felt so overwhelmed but she used that energy and began channeling it into anger and felt her muscles begin to regain some control she just had to be patient.

But still everything she saw reminded her of home, of that, they exited the building they’d been in and entered the walkways, the green mist under the platforms licking and curling around their feet she hated that mist more than anything. She was dragged into a large chamber where a cauldron sat in the middle on one side was a tall older nightsister, her black hair much longer with more white streaks and on the other was Zash smiling like a devil. Nightsisters surrounded them clearly they had a plan and Kyradia could only imagine Zash had her own.

But Kyradia’s eyes were fixed on something else, a table with restraints she felt herself start to breath heavily, her pupils dilated and her fist clenched as she was dragged towards it no no no not again…

Ashara was freaking out unsure what to do as she watched her former master dragged off “Malora we have to find a way out of here right now! The nightsisters are bad I can’t be sure but Kyradia has a lot of bad experiences with them and we can’t let them hurt her” Malora merely nodded and scuffed her shoe.

Ashara didn’t even know what to try she’d never dealt with sorcery like this “how could we have been so stupid Zash is here to learn sith sorcery it’s so her, and we fell right for the trap we should’ve been more careful, I should’ve sensed something” Malora continued silently scuffing her shoe and nodding

Ashara started to hyperventilate “we have to find a way out of here we can’t let anything bad happen I saw her pain I gotta help her I just gotta give her a chance, can you stop JUST SCUFFING YOUR SHOE MALORA WE HAVE TO HELP HER” Malora turned to her clearly agitated

Malora took a deep breath scuffing her shoe once more and a bunch of parts came out of the sole “I am finding a way out I just thought your inane babbling would get in the way” she starts to construct a little box “and it did but I have a solution; you’re welcome so please calm down” Ashara did calm down and take a deep breath

She sighed “sorry it’s just this is bad and it could’ve been avoided I didn’t mean to yell” Malora nodded as the box fit together and she raised it up “so what does your cool little box do” Malora looked at her quizzically

She almost smiled “thanks for asking? Basically this is magic force energy so likely normal force techniques will be useless but a bit of science mixed with the force allows me to collect such energies” she held out the box as it began to absorb the barrier “like so, I keep one on me at all times just in case” Ashara nodded actually very impressed

The barrier disappeared and Malora ignited her saber “and you keep it in your shoe” Malora sliced through the bars and walked over to Ashara’s cell

She frowned “that’s the part you question I will never understand you Jedi” she stood there as Ashara frowned

She pouted “well I don’t know any tech questions” she paused “are you gonna let me out” Malora frowned holding up the box

She stifled a laugh “of course I’m not just going to leave you there you’re still a valuable ally if annoying” Ashara decided to take that as a compliment as she cut through her own bars

She rushed forward “well thanks and we need to hurry if we’re gonna save Kyradia before anything goes wrong” she took Malora’s hand “come on I can turn us invisible” Malora nodded as they set off to save Kyradia but as they got closer they already heard signs of conflict...

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screensirenfic · 5 years ago

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Black Leather - Chapter 14

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Yeah; words couldn’t hurt you, but they could grate your nerves raw till the point I was damn ready to crack skulls myself.

The rumour mill was a ravenous, vicious machine, and it had already been well intent on chewing me up and spitting me out long before Billy’s little stunt at the party.

Now it was churning up new stories with a renewed vigour.

One minute; I was having a threesome with Billy and Steve, then it was Billy and Tommy, and then it was a foursome.

So far this morning I’d been Impregnated, paid and pornographied in at least twelve different ways according to the wild and unscrupulous orgy that was apparently my sex life.

It was really wearing quite thin, and considering how desperate half the school was for attention, supposed witnesses to my promiscuity were ten a penny.

Surprisingly, against all this backdrop of debauchery and sin, Billy had come away pretty much unscathed.

Funny that; how a man could be celebrated for his apparent conquests, when I could only be seen as a loose slut who was probably infectious.

Speaking of Billy Hargrove; I hadn’t even seen the so called triumphant Lothario all day, though if I had; I’d be sure to make sure the only impregnating he’d be doing was fictional.

Lucky for him; the school day was over, and I was minutes away from attempting to break the land speed record on the back of my Triumph; my motivation, the endless ribbing of teenage dipshits.

I strode across the parking lot of Hawkins High; whispers finally ceasing to follow me as the brain dead school populous finally realised I was one muttered jab away from first degree murder.

Eyes still followed me, but they’d shy away as soon as I’d look at them; self preservation a killer when it got held up against a lust for popularity.

My eyes saw him before I heard him.

Pretty in a white shirt and double denim, Billy Hargrove worked fast; the flaming red head of Ally clear next to him as he finished his cigarette leant against his Camaro.

I saw red, and it took every ounce of my self control not to march over there and deck the prick, because there was no way he got to cause me all that grief, then move on like I was another filly to break in.

Instead I marched towards my Triumph, making pace double time, because I knew if my pace faltered, so would my restraint.

“Hey Lola...” His voice called out, and I could hear the heavy fall of his motorcycle boots as he hurried to catch up to me.

I just sped up, because no; we weren’t going to do this now, not if he wanted to keep all of his teeth.

“Fuck off Billy.” I spat; three words hissed through my teeth like the foulest of venom, making it loud and clear that this was not a warning.

“C’mon Lo...” He had the cheek to purr, pulling on my sleeve like we were some bickering couple, and I swear to God; I should’ve floored him right there; restraint be damned.

“I said; fuck off!” I yelled, spinning to face him with fury in my eyes and poison in my lungs.

I didn’t care that he was a whole foot taller than me; I didn’t care that he could probably bench press me in his sleep, if Billy fucking Hargrove wanted me to throttle him in the car park for the whole school to see, I’d be more than happy to oblige.

He looked at me; his eyes intense, studying me as they flicked across my face.

I ran a hand across my cheek, wiping away the start of a tear, because goddamnit; I wasn’t about to cry in front of him again.

I was angry, and hurt, and that prick had the fucking cheek to look concerned about it as he started me down with sympathetic blue eyes.

“You’re upset with me...” He stated; his voice not at all accusatory, but just the statement alone got me riled up.

“Gee; I wonder why that could be?!” I sneered as I strode towards my bike, eager to get as far away from Billy Hargrove as possible, and maybe run him over with my bike.

“C’mon Lola, talk to me...” He asked, trying to come across as reasonable, but sounding every inch the petulant child to my unsympathetic ears; though really, what could the fucker expect?

“And what could we possibly have to talk about? Hmm?” I asked, sounding condescending as fuck as I paused from sorting my helmet just to drag this bitch.

“How you acted a total dick all of Saturday night?” I asked, keeping the first accusation light, because the real heavy hitters were best suited for when he inevitably tried to defend himself.

“Or how you took advantage of me then left me standing there like a hooker?” I spat, but still no dice.

Billy stood there taking it like a man, when really I wanted him to whine and scream like a little girl, because he didn’t get to be such a smug little shit, then play the mature one for an audience.

But you know fucking what; that was fine, because I still hadn’t brought out the big guns.

“Or maybe, just maybe you want to talk about how the entire school thinks you fucked me on the floor of Tina’s bathroom?” I spat, annunciating every word like it was the most incredulous thing I’d ever said.

“I never said that—“ Billy cut in, actually having the nerve to smile and look sheepish, but it was easy for him; it wasn’t his reputation getting dragged through the mud.

“But you didn’t deny it either.” I corrected him, unwilling to play these stupid “he said, she said” games with him.

He knew what he’d done. That by just smiling and looking smug when asked about the rumours, he’d only fanned them further. He was as responsible as Tommy for this shitshow, and quite frankly; I didn’t have the patience.

I threw my leg over my bike and pulled on my helmet, ready to make a speedy exit and hopefully blow enough exhaust fumes in Billy’s face that he’d keel over.

“C’mon Lola; we can talk about this...” He petitioned; that same needy whine edging into his voice that I was sure drove the girls wild.

I just kick started my engine, pleased with how it’s ferocious roar drowned out his voice.

“Lola...” He called out again, but fuck him.

Two more revs and I was cruising out of the parking lot at way above the fifteen miles per hour suggested speed limit, leaving Billy choking on a bitter tasting cloud of dust and gasoline fumes.

Fuck; did revenge taste sweet!

—————————————————

Sixteen minutes was an all time record for my ride home, and yeah; I’m pretty sure that patrol car out near State Street caught me speeding, but fuck if any of the blues in this town tried to cuff the chief’s daughter.

The woodland air tasted like mulch and rot and earth, but damn if that weren’t the sweetest thing when I was soaring over tree roots, feeling every inch the Evel Knievel as trees flew past in a blur of burnt orange.

When I’d pulled up outside the cabin; I’d expected some small act of retaliation from the kid; a window left open, or a lock undone, but what I was greeted with made my stomach drop right out of me.

The door was wide open; and I’m not talking blown open by the wind, but swung open wide, as if by force.

I dropped my bike faster than a bag of rocks, not caring about the damage; I could replace parts, I couldn’t replace the kid.

I rushed up the steps, taking them in one solid bound, before pausing at the door frame; my heart hammering in my chest like a jackhammer.

“El?” I called into the emptiness; my eyes scanning over the seemingly undisturbed interior of the cabin.

Everything was right where we’d left it this morning, from the pile of dirty laundry by the kitchen, to the unwashed glass on the coffee table.

I swept across the room, making a beeline for her room; dread in the pit of my stomach.

The door was closed, but I feared what I might see on the other side.

Images of a dark night less than a year ago sprang into my mind; a house hidden in the woods, the scent of blood and offal, a sharp hissing that stayed in my mind for weeks.

“Eleven.” I called out as I sprung open the door; my breath held as I gazed on what should’ve been a horror.

Empty.

Eleven’s things were all where she’d usually leave them; pyjamas crinkled up on the floor, a book on the nightstand, but no Eleven.

It almost appeared that she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, and with the knowledge I now had about Hawkins, that very well might’ve been a possibility.

Still; I wasn’t going to give up that easy, I was a Hopper; goddamnit!

I strode back to the front of the house and onto the porch, determined not to think the worse; that somehow, somewhere she was okay.

“Eleven?!” I called out into the woodlands, caring very little on who heard as my eyes scanned the tree line for a sign of life; anything that could’ve told me what might’ve happened.

Nothing.

Not a snapped branch or a disturbed shrub. Even the traps were untouched. It was truly like she...

No; no, that couldn’t be true.

“Eleven...” I yelled again, panic begging to seep into my voice, because this couldn’t have happened; it shouldn’t have.

We’d been careful; damnit!

We’d taken no unnecessary risks!

She couldn’t be gone.

Panic was begin to bubble up further now; my heart drumming in my chest like a racehorse.

I needed to talk to dad; maybe he had her, maybe she’d...

No; Christ that was stupid, they wouldn’t have....

I ran back into the house, diving on the HAM radio with the desperation of a soldier reaching for a gun.

My mind racked for the bit of Morse code my dad had taught me; tiny snippets of dots and dashes dancing into memory.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things2 #stranger things fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #strangerthingsfanfiction #strangerthingsfanfic #original character #stranger things oc #strangerthings oc #jim hopper daughter #hopper daughter #Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #eleven #jane hopper #eleven sister

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raendown · 5 years ago

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Pairing: HashiramaKakashi Word count: 1302 Soulmate au: The one where everyone is born without one of their senses but gains it when they meet their soulmate.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 205

“Hey, hey, is that lazy Kakashi-sensei late again?”

While those certainly weren’t the first words Hashirama might have expected to hear upon waking up he could admit that he’d certainly heard worse. The biggest surprise was honestly that the obviously childish voice had chosen to speak aloud. Upon opening his eyes he could clearly see they were out in the forest somewhere and the way he was raised clan children were generally encouraged to speak to each other solely in sign language when outside the safety of their homes.

Rolling over, scanning his eyes over the scenery around him, Hashirama cast back through his memory trying to remember how he’d gotten here. The last thing he remembered was hiding from his brother inside the clan library and knocking some old dusty scroll off the shelf. Something bright had exploded out when he caught it and the next thing he knew he was waking up in – not actually a strange place, he realized, tilting his head with faint recognition. If memory served this patch of forest wasn’t too far from the cliff where he and Madara used to meet as children before they got caught.

Now he was freshly twenty years old and peering through a break in the foliage to observe three younglings who were clearly all of wildly different parentage. That was strange. Perhaps their parents were from allied clans having a meeting. Or so he thought until one of them turned and flipped that idea right over on its head; he would know those Uchiha looks anywhere and as far as he was aware the Uchiha weren’t even close to friendly with the Namikaze he would peg the other boy for.

“Don’t be so disrespectful, Naruto!” The girl cracked the blond possible-Namikaze over the head with perfect form and excellent follow through. Hashirama would have commended her teacher if he weren’t worried there might be some very small infiltrators in Senju territory.

There was only one thing to do. He needed to make observations and then he needed to report back. Surely his father would want to know about these foreign faces waltzing so carelessly across their land.

A tap on one shoulder had him snapping around, kunai leaping to one hand in case he needed to defend himself, only to be met with a mildly sleepy looking eye, somehow managing to look entirely unimpressed despite being the only visible piece of the strange man’s face. Hashirama noted the easy stance and lack of drawn weaponry and narrowed hisown eyes. Either this man was too stupid to realize the dangerous person he’d come across or he was just that confident to believe himself unthreatened by one already nicknamed the God of Shinobi.

Which was refreshing, if Hashirama were being honest.

Using sharp, clean motions with both hands the man asked in the universal shinobi sign language why he was staring at the children, implying some rather unsavory things without actually saying them, and Hashirama puffed up. Of course he wasn’t thinking those things! His reply was perhaps a little sharper than it needed to be.

Tilting his head to the side, the stranger blinked slowly. How he managed to express disbelief when he had no visible face to express it with was actually quite impressive even if it was still a little insulting. Hashirama straightened a little more, fully intending to give this man one of his famous lectures on not being mean to people when it wasn’t necessary, then stopped. Froze in place. Stared at the man with eyes so wide it might have hurt if he hadn’t just gone entirely numb from head to toe.

“It smells nice here,” he whispered, stunned. The man cocked his head to the opposite side in question. “I’ve never smelled anything before…”

He completely understood why the man’s eyes widened with shock, the same shock he was feeling. Everyone in the world was born without one of their senses and smell was the one Hashirama had gone twenty years without. It wasn’t something he had ever missed or felt changed his quality of life in any way. Now he realized that he’d been wrong in that. Soft floral notes drifted through the air amongst the lush green scents of a forest after rain. And underneath all of that his brain automatically cataloged the lingering smell of someone who spent much of their time around dogs.

Throat visibly bobbing with nerves, the man who smelled like dogs rocked back on his heels and took both hands out of his pockets, bringing one of them up to gently touch the base of his own throat. Hashirama had seen more than one person make such a gesture before. It was easy to imagine what might be going through the other’s mind at this very moment. He held his breath as that mask covered jaw slowly opened.

“Maa…” Immediately the one eye widened and Hashirama knew why.

“You’re my soulmate!” he exclaimed.

“Nn…kaa...kaa…” A look of frustration furrowed the one pale eyebrow and he clenched both hands in to fists.

Hashirama had no time to try and guess what he was trying to say, interrupted by three small balls of energy crashing in between the two of them. The one he’d already pegged for Uchiha gave him a suspicious glare, not entirely out of the ordinary for his clan, but the Namikaze and the girl with a strong right hook gathered at the other man’s feet

“Kakashi-sensei! Did you talk!?” one demanded.

“You’ve never talked before!” the other cried. “How come you’re just talking now?!”

“Dummies. Obviously whoever this joker is he must be Kakashi-sensei’s soulmate and now that they’ve met he can talk.” The Uchiha boy rolled his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t call Sakura-chan a dummy!”

“Naruto, I think he was calling us both–”

Just like that all three of their voices merged together in the endless chitter of angry children forgetting their surroundings without a care in the world, more interested in their bickering than the possible threat of a stranger they met in the woods. Hashirama looked between each of them for a moment to make sure they weren’t just pretending their distraction to lull him in to a false sense of security. Then he lifted his eyes back to the man across from him and noticed at last that all four of this little group seemed to be wearing the same headband with a metal plate sewn in, stylized leaf carved in to the center.

One dark eye looked back at him with much more alert interest than before.

“Kakashi, I take it?” Hashirama smiled.

“Maa….mhm.” Kakashi nodded and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. He seemed to be having a harder time dealing with the influx of information as his brain rapidly tried to teach him how to speak the words he’d been hearing all his life. Or it was possible he was just shy.

“Hello. My name is Hashirama. It’s- it’s just so wonderful to meet you.”

It was hard to decide which was more adorable, Kakashi’s struggle to form the words for a reply or the way his little students continued to bicker like three little siblings all of an age, just the same as Hashirama himself used to watch his own three brothers fighting. He decided then and there that he didn’t care how or why Kakashi and he had come to be in the same place at the same time, he was just glad that they had met.

And he was happy for the opportunity to follow the gentle tilt of Kakashi’s head, allowing himself to be led away where they might sit in the woods somewhere a little more quiet, just the two of them, and to hear his soulmate speak his very first words.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #hashikaka #hashirama #kakashi #fanfiction

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mahvaladara · 6 years ago

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Thinking about V and DMC V

Whenever I think about it, and after reading that amazing analysis on V, and all Vergil and V have been through, V is quite the tragic character.

No one wanted V, no one cared for V, sadly enough, not even himself.

His own self cast him out to wither and die. His “loyal” demons only stick around because they are in the same predicament as him. The people he turned to for help do not care about him. The woman that like the mother in a way tells him she doesn’t care and for him to man up.

He’s crumbling, he’s dying, he’s afraid. And only when he decides: Fuck it. I’ll see this through. I don’t want to die.

I think that after that turning, V just decides to go on out of spite and understanding.

This “human” heart that was cast away that wanted to help mankind because he is kind because he knows it is his self that has caused this, has always known, always understood, but now he feels it. He knows what it feels to not be loved, to not be wanted, do not mean anything.

Suddenly he understands Vergil. Suddenly he understands his own demon. Why his demon was obsessed with power, why his demon was obsessed with killing Dante because his demon had nothing else left. He had nothing else left than keep going or die, and he doesn’t want to die. And power is not enough, he knows this now.

Power is not enough. Urizen is going to be destroyed and V is going to die. If anything else, since he can’t do anything else since no one cares about what comes of him, he suddenly wants to give himself a fighting chance. He wants to survive and give himself a fighting chance. The one that was controlled and abused by a demon. The one that was left to rot in the Demon World. The one that was defeated time and time again.

The one that was picked last.

Vergil.

He wants to give Vergil a fighting chance.

That is why he decides to remerge with Urizen, despite knowing this would bring back Vergil. Because the whole time the objective was to destroy Urizen and the Qliphoth and at the very end, after Trish, after accepting who and he is. He decides, killing Urizen is just the end. And now he understands. Now he knows the pain of being picked last.

This is why he says to Nero that he wanted to be “loved and protected”, because he has always existed believing no one ever wanted him, not even himself. Because while Dante leaves going “yea, you should rest”, leaving him on the floor, crumbling, Trish goes “I’m not your mom”, Lady is like “I guess? I mean you’re meaningless to me”,

Nero is the only one who lends him a shoulder.

And V is just crumbling in all ways possible. This humanity has reached the end of its string and it’s in pain.

One thing I have learned through life experience is that you can only take so long to people pulling on your heartstrings before you break.

But V’s humanity does brush to Vergil strongly. We see that, with him refusing to fight Dante if Dante isn’t his whole self. With him accepting to destroy the Qliphoth that he brought, and above all, with him give Nero the book. And I think the book is the most important part.

Because until then, Vergil hadn’t realized Nero was his son. He only realizes it after Dante tells him. He might have suspected, but nonetheless. To him its nothing but another demon hybrid with his Yamato. So though at the end, Vergil giving Nero the book, might be interpreted as him accepting Nero as his son and recognizing his valour as a warrior.

But accepting Nero as his son and his valour as a warrior, Vergil has already done it. He has entrusted Nero with protecting the Human World and he admitted defeat (not by those exact words, but regardless). Only afterwards does he notice the book, and the moment he gives the book to Nero, in my personal opinion is not so much Vergil but more V.

Because when V was crumbling, everyone left him. Nero was the only one who showed any form of concern or interest towards V. First suspicious curiosity, later respect and at the end genuine concern.

Nero didn’t need to go back and give his shoulder to V and help him get to the Qliphoth. For a matter of fact that only slows him down. Nonetheless, he chose to. Nero could have gone, and we all know what would have happened.

Dante would have destroyed Urizen, the Qliphoth might have been stopped, and V, surrounded by his familiars would crumble away into “Qliphoth dust”. But no, Nero saw how important it was for V to get there, and he helped him, he made sure he made it through. And after V merges with Urizen, who’s the first person to ask about V? Nero.

Someone cared, and there’s nothing more important than that. Someone cared for this small shard of humanity that no one wanted. It wasn’t a demon fearing its own demise, a devil hunter getting paid. It was a genuine human concern and care that sealed the deal.

So Vergil gives Nero the one object to which V clung to while begging to survive. The most important part of his humanity, small poems and good memories he held on to, of a time where he wasn’t left behind.

We can say that Vergil and V are a perfect analogy of accepting oneself, perfections and imperfections.

But in the end, it is still sad and tragic. Because Vergil is not V, Vergil is the union of V and Urizen, and Vergil is a whole, not the sum of his parts. So from that moment on, Urizen and V are both gone and only Vergil is left.

All of V and the ending saddens me.

Because only Nero proves Vergil there’s some worth to his humanity. No one else cared about it. Dante had a villain to defeat, and everyone else had a contractor to do a job for. That was it.

It’s like something you made, and you love it, and you show it to everyone, and no one cares, or everyone tears it apart, to the point you’re wondering if it’s even worth anything and sometimes, you just give up on it. This is what V became to Vergil, and what V ends up being to everyone else but Nero.

One thing that hurts me about Dante, is that when Dante realizes what V is about to do. The first thing he does he try to stop him because he knows it’ll bring back Vergil. He tries to stop V despite knowing they’re both dying.

And it hurts that this is who Dante and Vergil are. Two stubborn men who will keep fighting over a stupid point. One for demons, one for humans, despite the fact they’re both.

I am saddened with the loss of V, because I feel it brings little to the table. It hints at the possibility of Vergil becoming and being a better man, but we spend the whole game getting to know his human side, not him. And at the end, we just see them brotherly bickering and guess what, fighting. Might be fun and here they go again, but it’s more of the same.

V wears his emotions on his sleeve, he is mischievous, sombre and secretive, but he is also kind. Vergil is stoic, controlled, reserved and most certainly not kind.

I am hoping in DMC VI they plan to bring Vergil not as an antagonist but as, from the beginning to the end, ally! If they decide to continue the line of Vergil being a rival or a villain, I feel they will make all V went through meaningless cannon fodder.

Though I would love to see V be brought back, I don’t know how such could be pulled. I am not, however, against the idea of a second “son” of Vergil, one who looks, acts and is like V. Maybe one created and brought by Vergil himself to aid his son, Nero.

Because, honestly, V and Nero make an amazing team, and we need brothers working and fighting together, and not just being dicks to one another. My favourite missions were those where the two fought together. Or where I could stand above or bellow watching V or Nero fight. It was fun to be in that platform and watch Griffon bickering with the demon V was fighting. And it was fun to later when I replayed the level as V, to watch Nero do the same on the platform.

In a nutshell, I want V back. Because I know how it feels to be the last picked, or how it feels to not matter and you’re trying so hard, but you don’t matter.

#dmc 5 #dmc v #shah has many feels about v

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