#and the gods laugh at my hubris in thinking this was a short fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatlongspringnight · 3 years

Text

Effortlessly Alone (Chapter 1) (Jin x Namjoon)

Pairing: Namjoon x Seokjin

Genre: fluff, soft angst, fantasy

Rating: T for teen

Length: 3.5 k

Warnings: Feeding fish food they shouldn’t eat, sad boys

Summary: Jin is an ancient river god, cursed to be trapped in his fish form for his heartless transgressions. Namjoon is a lonely twenty-something who takes to feeding him cheese crackers and telling him about his life. Together this unlikely pair may just find the answers to the loneliness in their hearts are closer than they think.

This is for the Spring Sprouts collab, which has honestly been the highlight of my March, I had no idea how much this idea would spring out of control, enough for me to make this a chapter fic. Tune in next time for more of Jin’s past, and Namjoon taking a date to the river. <3

The first time Namjoon visits the river, it's to clear his head. Odd, considering the vast emptiness that had seemed to take over in the last few weeks, a sort of dullness that not even reading could banish. He’s new to this small town, and he knows that in part...that’s the problem. He’s new and he’s lonely. Lonely and bored, a job transfer from busy Seoul that had upped his pay, but left him stranded in what seemed like the wilderness.

It’s different, so different from the fast paced life he’d left behind, and some days...some days its maddening. Maddening enough to force him up onto his feet, jogging through winding roads, rarely paved, taking in his new home, hoping to burn off the anxious energy he’d yet to find a healthy outlet for.

And today - that takes him to the river, plopping to the ground as he makes it there, the grass soft and cool against sweaty thighs. There is a little sitting area his eyes trail, and a pagoda that looks far too old for his comfort. Like a relic from another time. A cherry blossom tree, not yet blooming, that looked just as old. Out of respect, or maybe fear of spiders, he chooses to avoid them both, instead finding himself lounging at the water’s edge, basking in the warmth of the day...the sound of the water moving by.

“Its not so bad.” He speaks out loud, but only to himself, he’s alone here after all. Nature has rarely comforted him in his short life, but this place...well, he wonders if the water is too cold...or if it would be nice enough to dip his feet in. He wonders what the stars look like at night from here, gazing above the river. “I mean, I have all this free time.” It’s a musing, punctuated by him sliding off his shoes, socks shoved inside them.

There is no harm in it right? He shifts, a jolt as his feet hit the water, current smooth and soothing and very cold. But he doesn’t move.

It is grounding and liberating all at once...at least until he feels something nip at his ankle.

“Ahhk!” He tumbles back, feet yanked out of the water. “What - “ He can’t help himself, scrambling to look over the edge of the water, to find out what - And it is a what, Joon thinks, eyes widening. A beautiful what.

A beautiful fish. Long flowing fins in elegant shades of ivory fading to soft pink. Big too - like a koi who has gotten comfortable in a well sized pond. Is it a koi fish? Namjoon thinks to himself, his situation forgotten as he stares at the way its fins fan and move, making waves of their own in the current.

It has to be a koi fish. “You bit me.” The man complains, shifting so he’s staring down into the water, feet safely on the bank, “are you hungry?” He gives the fish benefit of the doubt, surprised to find its gaze on him.

There is...something there - something behind the fish’s eyes, it gives Namjoon pause - because its an all around human look. A sort of awareness that breeds curiosity in the man. He finds himself reaching for his fanny pack, grabbing the snacks he brought. “I know these can’t be good for you.” he speaks as he breaks a cheez-it in half, tossing it to the surface. “But as a treat, I don’t think its that bad.”

The fish devours them, and circles after, clearly wanting more. Namjoon settles himself on the bank, happy enough to feed the pretty creature and soak up the sun.

He goes to speak, then pauses. Would it be completely unhinged if he talked to the fish?

“What’s your name?”

The voice is a whisper, a sweet sound against Namjoon’s ear, he shudders, glancing around in the darkness, searching for the sound. There it is again, he doesn’t understand what’s being said, but its so close, he reaches out, he can’t help it, he just wants to know…

Who the voice belongs to, what the voice is saying.

“.....Name…?”

“Namjoon - My name is Namjoon, Kim Namjoon.” He finally answers, and suddenly there is color, bursting everywhere, and...and a man, beautiful, ethereal, like staring at the moon in reflection over the river.

He’s sitting, and there is a divide, something Namjoon can’t see - and they’re touching, fingertips brushing each other - How does the man look like that? Namjoon can feel the confusion. Beautiful and fragile like glass, but with a piercing gaze.

He can’t remember ever meeting someone who looks like him, with those full lips, tousled hair, and almost petulant look.

“You - who are you?” “My name….not important.” The man answers, staring up towards the cloudless sky and too-close moon. “You - you are lonely.” its a simple pronouncement. “I’m lonely too.”

“I - “

His alarm is blaring, and he groans, its time for work. He sits up, nearly toppling over as he rubs his eyes. The river, the silver moon, a man - its disappearing as quickly as it was there the memories of his strange encounter already fading to the background

For the fish, however, it’s not so easy. Centuries of loneliness, trapped in this disgraced form, culminating in this human boy feeding him something that made him want to be alive again...what had he called them...cheese things? Cheese rounds? He wasn’t sure, but what he was sure of is that the moment those flavored breads hit his mouth, he felt alive again….for the first time in over a hundred years.

Alive, and ravenous for more. For too long he had dined on the refuse of the lake floor, smaller fish and wilted water weeds, when once upon a time he had feasted in banquet halls lined in gold, on bread dripping in honey, wine soaked lips demanding more.

And yet these delectable cheese rounds trumped them all. Made his belly storm and growl, demanding more of them.

But those are memories that just bitter his heart, move him further and further from freedom from breaking the curse that bound him here. Here trapped in this forgotten land, in the body of a fish - a once great god brought low for his pride, Seokjin, the fish thinks wryly - god of rock and river, whose tears overflowed these banks as a child, lonely and lost.

Whose only friend in the world was himself, his reflection along the water’s edge keeping him company. It is no surprise how easy it was to fall in love with his own features.

Jin, of comely face, on his lonely rock in the middle of the river - attracting suitors both human and divine, temples raised in his honor as his power and beauty grew. Jin, with an indolent smirl, laughing merrily, taking a new lover every night, discarding them come morning, no consequences for the divine. Relishing in life because life relished in him, blessed with beauty and an insatiable spirit, a whole where his heart should be.

All lost overnight, cursed for his own hubris - for his own inability to love.

The fish glances up, risking the dangers of the surface to stare at the moon, at the reason he was cursed in the first place.

To linger on the huge, ancient cherry blossom tree that shielded the pagoda, the temple erected in his name so many years ago. So beautiful, the springtime blossoms nearly ready to burst. His first real friend, even if he didn’t know it then.

But its now, not then, and he’s lonely, and hungry for life - and something about that boy’s unhurried, somewhat awkward smile touches that part of him, the part that longed to live again - even in this very changed world, this future that had forgotten him.

If anything then just to get those crackers again.

And that’s why he visits his dreams. The only place Jin can show himself, his true self, unable to voice that ancient curse to the boy - but able to be seen, truly seen, to speak those words...loneliness -

Its...its a trick, to coax him back, with more snacks, Jin justifies, unwilling to admit that he reached out for any other reason, that he took the time under the light of that damned, too-bright moon to expend thousands year old energy on a boy who nearly kicked him in the face that day at the river for any other reason.

That he wasn’t lying when he said he was lonely. That the empty spot where his heart should be ached for something, a friend, a confidant - how he ached for a voice, to speak in more than just dreams.

But he can’t.

Either way, it works - and he learns his name.

Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.

It takes effort that first time, tendrils of magic that he used to control with barely a glance, still -

Namjoon makes a habit of visiting the river after that first time, Jin wonders if he feels that pull. That same pull he can’t deny every time the man sets himself down on the river bank.

Jin wonders if its the magic, if he’s grown that unused to the feeling...or...or if its something else.

“You’re really ridiculous, you know.” Namjoon scolds the water lightly, looking down at the white and pink fish that is floating close to surface,

Mouth opening and closing in an ill concealed attempt to get snacks. “I shouldn’t be feeding you, I’m sure it’s bad for you.” Namjoon drops a broken cracker in the water anyway, watching how the beautiful fish is quick to eat, thrashing a powerful tail.

Today Namjoon has his camera, a Polaroid he bought to document his new home, a collection of photos of nature and old stone piling up on his desk. He snaps a picture of the fish, knowing full well the film couldn’t capture the beauty. “...I took your picture.” He explains, noticing the way the fish swirls his tail in discontent. “Nothing bad, see?” He’s shaking the developing Polaroid, knowing that’s not effective. “I’ll show you.”

He truly wonders if he’s that lonely, lonely enough to become friends with a fish.

But the fish is the easiest creature to talk to, in this town full of ancient history and even older families, well established and not looking to accept a stranger...or all too eager too, to pry into his personal life, there was none of that here, at the quiet little bend in the river.

Maybe the fish judged him, but that was easy to ignore, and he always hung around to listen - sentient fish - Namjoon was growing confident of that.

“I wish you could tell me more about you.” Namjoon offers the fish, showing him the photo, watching it reflect in the water. He watches the way the fish eyes it, mouth moving to blow bubbles at the surface. Does he like it? Does it matter? “Like first of all, why do i only ever see one of you? Are you all alone?” He’d started to develop some theories, and it mostly just ended in someone dumping the fish in the river when they were tired of taking care of it.

He couldn’t think of any other reason, no amount of internet browsing found him a koi that looked exactly like him, certainly not in the wild.

Which meant he was probably home bred, maybe even tossed out for looking like that, and…and that made Namjoon sad.

Sad, to go from having a family to none at all. It makes him empathize with the creature, who was once new to this place too, who found a home...but was still alone. “You don’t have to be alone if I’m here.” He’s tucking the picture into his wallet. “And I’ll keep visiting you.”

Seokjin does not understand the human boy. He comes back, usually every other day - with Jin finding himself more and more longing for every day - but he does not understand, just the same. Does not understand why the boy bothers, time and time again,

To visit, to sit by the river with him, to talk to him. Especially when Jin cannot talk back, relegated to bubbles and splashes, to lingering glances that he hopes the boy processes as listening. He’s lonely, Jin does recognize that - but why….why seek company with a fish?

Namjoon is in that haze again. That landscape he’s started to recognize as a dream, he thinks - it feels familiar, like he’s felt so many mornings lately, comforted, though he doesn’t know why.

“You’re back.” Oh, right, memories of dreams come rushing back, of the beautiful man - who won’t give him his name. His voice is sweet, wistful. “It took you a while to fall asleep tonight.” The man, he can see him so much more clearly than before, resting on the bank of the river, hair as pink as the heavy laden cherry blossoms behind him. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting…?” Namjoon questions, watching the way the man beckons him forward. “For me?” “Always.” Jin answer, a sort of soft purr to his voice, one that has Namjoon joining him on the river bank. So familiar, Namjoon thinks to himself, wondering if thinking in dreams is even possible, this riverbank - this man with the soft pink hair and lonely gaze.

“Who are you?” It could be the first or hundredth time he’s asked, judging by the look on Jin’s face.

“I’m someone not worth knowing.” Jin answers, looking up at the stars, the full moon, a grimace dancing on his lips.

He’s always being watched, even here, in the dreams of a boy who thinks to know him, in his own way.

There are a thousand years between him and freedom and still that damn moon watches.

“I think i’d like to know you more.” Namjoon answers. “Or at least your name, I always read you dream only about the people you’ve met, or seen before, and I’ve never seen you.” “Oh but you have.” Jin corrects, often even, though he doesn’t add that part.

“Untrue.” Namjoon is simple about it. “I’d remember meeting someone like you.” “Like me?” “You have the saddest eyes of anyone i’ve ever met.”

This time when Namjoon wakes up, he’s got tears dripping down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know why.

Many years ago, someone said something so similar. Jin is trapped, trapped in this form but that does not mean he doesn’t feel as a man, think as a man. That he doesn’t - he doesn’t remember.

Many years ago when he was beautiful, young, powerful...and so foolish, there was one who said something so - so similar.

A beautiful creature, a human like Namjoon - come to give him praise, to worship at his temple, at its height. He could remember him now - clear as day. Beauty then, like now, was not rare, but what was rare were his words.

He was quiet, shy even in his splendor, a boxy smile that alighted warm on Seokjin, and often. There were many, many pretty humans who came to see Jin, but he stayed, he became an acolyte, a worshipper - and he never left.

Taehyung.

Taehyung stayed at his side from the moment their eyes met, from the moment he told him those words “You’re very lonely...you smile, but your eyes tell me what you won’t say.” Seokjin could remember how he felt then, cold water tossed on him, like a rolling sea.

He had looked away, away towards another pretty thing, a playful woman come to bathe in his waters - and he vowed to not look upon Taehyung again.

But Taehyung stayed, and it was hard not to look - especially on those nights when he was alone, utterly alone, when it was just him, Taehyung...and the moon.

“You should worship him instead.” Jin remembers forming the words, Taehyung settling beside him on the river bank. “The moon, he gazes at you every night, I can feel it.”

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head. “When i saw you, Seokjin, I saw the world in a way I had never had before.

Taehyung - the memory fades, gone before Jin could get to parts he doesn’t want to remember. Too good for him, Taehyung. He looks up at the cherry blossom tree, weighed down with blossoms. Beautiful, quiet Taehyung, who had asked for so little and gotten even less.

Lessons that it was too late for him to learn now, Jin thinks to himself. He couldn’t go back in time and change the way things were, and maybe that was the true curse of it all.

Namjoon is starting to remember, and they both realize it about the same time, the man sitting on the river bank, lounging in the feel of mid-spring. Wondering just how long the blossoms would stay on the trees here.

“I’m having weird dreams.” Namjoon confesses. “Of a man.” Jin is far too concerned, far too quickly, not even complaining at the lack of snack. “A...beautiful man.” He adds on, cheeks heating in a way that Jin knows all too well. If he could smirk, he would smirk - the familiar thrill of the chase not lost on him, even now. “And I don’t think i’ve ever seen him before.” Namjoon is frowning lightly at the water, well - at the fish.

“He reminds me of someone - but at the same time, no one I know.” He confesses, knowing full well that even to the fish he must sound ridiculous. “And he says I’ve seen him before, or - or met him before.” Namjoon is frustrated, even Seokjin can tell, he bubbles a little, trying to sooth the man. “I just want to know why - “ He sighs. “I know why, its because - its because I need to get laid.” The confession makes the fish freeze, literally, all movement stopping.

“I am trying so hard, you know I went on a date last night?” The confession makes Jin lap anxiously around his legs. “it didn’t go as well as I hoped.” Namjoon sighs, enjoying the coolness of the river water against his skin. It is suddenly hot, too hot. “But...a date is a date - and - well, i’m not getting any younger.”

A date. Jin might be old, far older than any other being he would be talking to, certainly older than a foolish mortal boy, but he knew the word date. Had seen many along the banks of the river he called home.

He could feel himself frown, bubbles rising to the surface of the water as he glared at Namjoon, tail thrashing behind him. The other man was in no way required to entertain men for the sake of his age. It made Jin - well it upset him.

Namjoon watches, sees how the fish seems to disagree with this notion. Bubbles gathering at the water’s edge as he sways his tail. Namjoon is struck by how disapproving he seems. Can….can fish feel that emotion? Disapproval?

“Don’t look at me like that, I feel judged!” Nothing, his expression doesn’t change, and Namjoon grimaces. The last thing he wants after the day he’s had is even the fish judging him. “What if I give you the sharp cheddar cheez-its this time? I know they’re your favorite.”

They ARE his favorite, and Namjoon is the only one of the human crowd who still thinks to bring him offerings that brings the strange and delightful crackers. The tail thrashing ceases, though his eyes still hold that frown. He wishes he could speak to Namjoon then, tell him that as a priest of his - he do not need to - to date. Jin will take care of his every need and more - but he cannot, not yet at least.

And so he just waits until Namjoon is sighing, muttering something about a conscious spirit in the fish, pulling out the bag, breaking the pieces up as he feed them to him

“Sometimes I think you don’t really love me, or my company.” Namjoon stares at him, an amused, albeit sad look on his face. “You just come here for my cheez-its.”

No, Jin thinks to himself. Its Namjoon that comes to him, time and time again, and he doesn’t want it to stop - something that his statements only put into perspective. Namjoon had gone on a date, had met with a mortal, and he had not...had not known.

The emotion that Seokjin feels is...Jealousy, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

15 notes · View notes

queerchoicesblog · 4 years

Text

The Thiasus

So, folks, let's start the wlw miniseries writing project!

As announced, the first series to be posted is the Ancient Greece one suggested by @jackievarma , others will soon follow. I decided to name the first bit The Thiasus as it takes place on Lesbos at the famous Sappho's thiasus where rich girls were sent to be educated before their wedding.

Since this is the first fic of this miniseries project, I will just share one thing, so that you can choose whether my approach suits you or not. After much consideration, I decided not to omit from the stories potentially uncomfortable issues. I will add a trigger alert if need be but especially writing about women through the centuries, I'd consider a distortion of truth cutting off for instance homophobia, transphobia, forced marriages, and other unpleasantries like these. They won't be the main topic of my works but sadly they are part of what women had - and still as in a way- to go through so, no matter how tough adding it to the romances is for me, banishing them from these stories would have sounded like spreading a lovely lie, which in the end is simply a lie. Not sure they will recur systematically but if you find it in any of my stories, you know why.

Also, I absolutely hate when writers make poor wlw suffer or die, depriving them of the happy ending we all dreamed of. However, I am the worst at writing happy endings but I'll try. Don't be mad at me if sometimes you won't find one: happy endings aren't and weren't always feasible. But a sad ending is not necessarily mean or homophobic or so I think.

Apologies for the long talk, hope you enjoy it! The next part will be out on Saturday

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

When I joined the thiasus, I was young, a pretty little flower yet to blossom. The first born of a merchant hoping to score a good match and wedding for her daughter. I didn't know what to expect: Sappho's community was well renewed and respected all over Greece, but I knew little about it. All I knew was that it was a school where young girls like me could learn all they needed to learn to be the good wives of powerful men one day. I didn't mind being around girls -if they weren't as annoying as my sisters- but it didn't sound too exciting: we were expected to learn how to properly behave and please, how to sing, play instruments and dance to appeal the Gods and our betrothed. It wasn't entirely correct. Yes, of course, we learned all those things there and refined our grace: from raw childish material we blossomed into gracious young women thanks to Sappho's teachings. But we also learned something more invaluable...eternal, I'd say.

One of the first classes I had there was a few days after my arrival. We were sitting in a circle near an altar in the green, the murmur of the waves crushing against the rocky cliffs echoing in the distance. Our teacher kept quiet for a while, her eyes wandering, taking in each one of us. Then, out of the blue, she asked us what the best thing in the world is. What do you value most in this world?, she inquired. What would you say? Silence fell in our group before someone said "the favour of the Gods" and another "power". A girl sitting next to me exclaimed "a fair husband" while I humbly suggested "happiness". What should we all seek in this life if not happiness? Sappho pondered our words then smiled. When she spoke again, she recited lines that went straight to my heart like an arrow: Some celebrate the beautyof knights, or infantry, or billowing flotillasat battle on the sea.Warfare has its glory, but I place far abovethese military splendorsthe one thing that you love.For proof of this contentionexamine history: we all remember Helen, who left her family, her child, and royal husband, to take a stranger's hand: her beauty had no equal, but bowed to love's command.As love then is the powerthat none can disobey, so too my thoughts must followmy darling far away: the sparkle of her laughterwould give me greater joythan all the bronze-clad heroes I spent the rest of the day repeating those words in my head and wondering who was "her darling far away" whose laughter was a memory so dear to win over glorious heroes. I also wondered if I would ever feel anything close to that: a tender smile still lingered on my teacher's lips at the thought of her. It must be nice, I thought. I've always been a good singer: when I was still at my parents's house I would shock my poor mother and nana saying that I wanted to be a singer, to sing for the passerby in the streets. Nana would comment harshly that it wasn't an honourable occupation for a girl. "Not a respected girl, at least" she chastised me, giving me an assessing look. Mother would agree and suggest that I could always sing for my husband and our guests one day, if my betrothed agreed. Funny enough, it's what happened: I'm an honorouble woman who delights my husband's guest with the finest melodies and hymns. I gave up my dream of singing and dancing free in the streets. But I wasn't surprised to excel in singing at the thiasus. It was not out of hubris, I was just aware of my skills and I basked in my teacher's appraisal. I was so excited when she offered me to perform a duet with another student for the upcoming celebrations. Generally, only older students were allowed to perform on such occasions but she believed I had a special gift and I would have done just fine. What better way to thank the Gods for the talent I received from them? I studied my part eagerly and when I was ready I came back to her and she introduced me to my partner. A girl slightly older than me was sitting with her, her raven curls dancing in the salty breeze from the sea. She graciously stood as Sappho explained the reason of my presence there and told my name, singing my praises. The girl smiled at me and I blushed a little in the sunlight. She noticed and looked back at our teacher, smiling to herself. Or refraining herself from giggling in front of Sappho. "And this, my sweet Athenian, is Kleanthis" our teacher announced with pride. Kleanthis. I repeated her name in my head and it filled me like the perfume of a sweet flower. Kleanthis came from a nearby island, Samos, and was one of the most brilliant student. By the way Sappho talked of her, I got the impression she was destined to follow our teacher's path one day. I was right but I couldn't possibly know it back then. When the pleasantries were over and we were left alone to rehearse before the celebrations, Kleanthis collected her lyre and guided me towards a beach nearby. Once there, she gently strummed her instrument and looked at me over her shoulder. "Let me hear what you've got, Athenian" The first lines were hers: her voice was like a siren's song but not as harmful. She swayed with the music and I had to concentrate not to miss my part just after hers. I had never seen someone like her: as she performed, she transformed herself, her whole body, not just her voice was participating and praising the goddess. She looked nothing short than a terrestrial manifestation of the Graces. Maybe she was one of them, I remember thinking: after all, the Gods visit our world under disguise. We repeated our parts over and over and stopped only when the sun was about to go down into the sea. She wiped away the sweat from her forehead and smirked, handing me her lyre. "Not bad, Athenian. How long you said you've been here?" Then she walked towards the sea and washes her hands into the sea, her face. When she moved back and asked me to follow her, I was mesmerised by the way the last rays of sun sparkled on her wet skin. That night we performed by the altar and it was...magical. Our voices fused together as if they had always meant to be, as if we were the two souls separated by the Gods and destined to meet again. Our hymn to Hera reached the sky and the hearts of our audience. I was ecstatic: the thrill of the performance still running in my veins, the lights of the torches and the moonlight dancing around me, the admiration of the people surrounding me. I felt as if my heart could burst for too much happiness all at once. I went looking for Kleanthis after the celebrations. I wanted to congratulate her and share with her the whirl of feelings inside me. I found her near the woods, away from the crowd. The first thing I noticed was that...she wasn't alone. A few girls were around her, chatting and whispering words I couldn't hear into each other ears. Kleanthis was laughing: one of the girls wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek making her laugh. A melodious sweet laughter. A knot formed in my stomach and I ran away before they could spotted me. I ran to my bed: my cheeks were crimson when I stopped. I laid down and hugged my knees as I used to do when I was a kid and needed reassurance. Kleanthis's laughter rang in my head again and I started crying. I had no idea why but tears ran copiously down my cheeks.

#original work #wlw writing project #wlw writing #wlw miniseries #ancient greece #lgbtqa+

28 notes · View notes

michaelmyersmalewife · 5 years

Text

LEVIATHAN | 2. Reconnect | MASTERLIST

words: 4k+

warning(s): mild violence (described but not explicit)

A/N: got nothing much to say other than this is a long one & thank u for keeping up with this !! i’m gonna try to get a new chapter up every monday so keep an eye out for that

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Earth, 2019: Monarch Outpost 61 - Yunnan Rainforest, China

Madison stared at her laptop screen with an empty expression, headphones blasting a song that had become nothing but white noise in her ears.

As she scrolled through dozens of emails - most of which consisted of newsletters and petitions crooning about the next animal to make it to the endangered list, climate change, and the overall hubris that is the current government, among other things - what had her chewing her lip with nerves was a single email, short and sweet, from her father. How a single "How's it going?" could make her so nervous, she would never know. With a deep inhale, she clicked on the message.

Hey Madison, Haven't heard from you guys in a few months. Hope you're having fun. Here are a few pics of the wolves I've been studying. Aren't they cute? Love, Dad

Below were three photos of gray wolves, one of which showed two pups play-fighting with each other in the middle of a grassy field. As she continued scrolling down, her eyes widened, narrowing as she continued on. It was a photo of her? But she was much younger, 10 at the oldest. The next featured her father as well, proudly holding up what looked like a fairly small trout while she smiled next to him. A small grin appeared on her face.

She remembered that day, how her father sacrificed a weekend where he was supposed to be out doing field work but instead spent it with her in the form of a fishing trip. While they hadn't caught much, she remembers insisting on releasing what they did catch almost immediately afterward. But not before getting quick pictures for memory's sake.

Madison typed, slowly at first but she could feel all the words she wanted - needed - to say spill forth. She reeled them in.

Hey dad, Sorry I haven't written back. I miss you, but there's something I want to talk to you about...I'm getting worried about mom.

An alarm blared in her ears, startling her out of focus with a jump.

"Shit." she whispered harshly under her breath, throwing her headphones on the counter.

As she turned to look at the source of the smoke slowly but surely filling her senses, the fire underneath the pan licked at her hands. Her trail of expletives only increased.

Grabbing the pan with no afterthought, she winced, nearly burning her hand on the stovetop when the fire underneath only increased in intensity. Quickly flicking the thin blackened strips of what used to be bacon onto a plate, she heard the patter of footsteps quickly approaching from behind.

"Maddie?"

"Uhhh, good morning?"

As Madison hurriedly ran the charred pan under a thin stream of water in the sink, Emma Russell turned off the stove with a flick of her wrist, grabbing a rag from the counter and blowing away the thick cloud of smoke that had formed in her kitchen. Madison opened a window.

"I made us breakfast!"

"I can see that." she said with a tired chuckle, turning off the alarm.

"It's, uh..eggs, toast, and.." her voice trailed off, scrunching her nose as she looked at the strips that resembled sticks of charcoal more than anything. "Bacon?"

Emma's eyes flicked to the toaster, popping out the two slices before they too became little more than a smoldering pile.

"Well, which do you recommend?" she said with a smile, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"How about we just skip the bacon?" Madison laughed.

"Sounds good," Emma said, picking up a plate, voice softening with sincerity. "Thank you."

Madison gave her a tight-lipped smile and grabbed the second plate, turning around and shutting the laptop in front of her.

"Coffee?" she asked as she poured herself a cup. Emma nodded, resting her head in her hand and glancing down at the sticker-coated laptop. There was an unmistakable fatigue in her eyes, a look that Madison had become all too familiar with.

It was always like that around this time of year. She knew her mother had been staying up into the late hours of the night, almost treading early morning, for the past couple days or so working on that project of hers. Her mother had always seen it as some sort of salvation, a way to undo the mistakes that had already been done. But as it sat there on the counter right next to her, Madison only saw it as a reminder of a time she had tried so hard to forget.

"What were you working on?"

Madison bristled. "I was just looking at recipes."

"For toast?" Emma took a swig of the coffee. It was bitter and watery.

Madison worried at her lip once more. "Dad's been," she scratched the back of her head. "He's been emailing me again."

Emma sighed, picking at the cold eggs with a fork.

"But he looks good, healthy I mean."

"Have you responded?"

"Not yet."

"Madison, I just - You know I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know." she said between mouthfuls of eggs and toast.

"Especially with everything that's going on right n-"

"I know." she downed it with a sip of coffee, swallowing a gag from the bitter aftertaste.

"Listen, I know things haven't been easy, but we're gonna get through this." she leaned forward. "Together."

Madison stayed silent, unwilling to look her mother in the eye. "You sure he's gonna be okay?"

"He's in the safest place he can be right now."

Madison looked up, skeptical. Rubbing her arms from a sudden chill, Emma turned to the side, placing a hand on what looked like a bulky suitcase emblazoned with the signature Monarch logo on the front.

"Wanna hear some good news?"

Madison shrugged.

"I finished it." she said, pushing her chair in.

"Really." she had heard this many times before. "You think it'll work this time?"

Emma nodded slowly. "It's gonna work."

Suddenly, the ground shook. Chair and tables rattled as glasses clinked together, sloshing its contents and spilling over the counter. The lights that hung from the ceiling waved around in circles. Madison gripped the table. And with a shrill cry like that of a hundred birdsongs, the tremors ended. Emma gazed out the window, brows furrowing. Madison joined her, still trembling.

"It's gonna be okay." Madison whispered under her breath.

Emma put an arm around her shoulder.

Static sounded out of nowhere as she quickly reached for the radio at her side.

"Dr. Russell? We've got a problem."

"I'm on my way."

Outside in the heart of the Yunnan Rainforest, all the creatures that dwelled in its depths chittered with unrest. Something was coming.

_____

"What the hell happened?"

"No idea." the doctor was out of breath, attempting to balance the tablet in his hand and a radio in the other. "She was sleeping like a baby until an hour ago then - boom - radiation levels went through the roof. Almost like something triggered it."

Madison dragged behind, one hand on the strap of her backpack and the other still tugging a hand through the arm of her oversized jacket. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the scenery of this place, how the vines that wove through the temple like lace seemed to crawl on their own. She could swear they were in a different position every time she walked through that narrow tunnel.

"Thanks, Tim. You should get some rest, I can take it from here."

He stopped dead in his tracks, almost in disbelief. "Sleep or no sleep, I'm not missing this."

As the two doctors carried on, Madison hung back, staring in awe at the intricate relief carved into the stone of the temple's wall. When she and her mother first got stationed at Outpost 61, there was nothing but a curtain of hardy vines and aggregated dirt. But now it told a story that Madison could only begin to understand. Two workers clad in sterile blue suits that covered nearly every inch of their body fussed carefully, scraping away plant matter and other detritus away from the architecture. They had been at it for weeks, but she couldn't imagine having that kind of patience. She walked up to their side, tilting her head with a curious gaze.

On the wall was a moth, a giant moth, with what looked like two equally large larva at its side. Below them were vastly smaller figures that looked to be humans bowing in supplication before them. At the forefront of the group were two identical feminine figures standing next to each other with their arms outstretched toward the giant moth. It was an odd sight.

"'Sup, Mads?"

She jumped, startled out of her daze. It was Dr. Gillian, leaning next to her and staring up at the relief with a fondness that a parent would have looking at their child.

"Did I scare you?" she spoke with a chuckle, lowering the surgical mask.

"No." she comically glowered at her before having her already messy hair tousled.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine it's just.." she sighed, adjusting the backpack strap. "It's been a morning."

"I hear that." Gill stood back, crossing her arms and joining Madison in her deep fascination of the relief.

"Beautiful, isn't it? If I saw something like that I know I'd hail it as a god."

"It's just an animal, though."

Gill shrugged. "I dunno. These things a lot smarter than we give 'em credit for."

As she faced the window, looking out into the containment cell, Madison followed her gaze. "Imagine the stories they could tell."

Over the speakers, a grainy voice echoed throughout the temple. "Containment team, move into position."

Madison and Gill glanced at each other, moving closer to the array of monitors where a handful of scientists stood huddled together. Behind the pane of glass was a giant sac, pulsing with a bright blue light. And something else.

"Have you tried sedatives?" Emma brushed her bangs to the side, adjusting the mic on her headpiece.

"No effect. This thing wants to be born."

"Proceed with utmost caution."

Madison walked up to the glass, mouth agape at the lightshow.

Sighing, Emma placed a hand on her shoulder, a warm expression spreading across her face. "Her time has come."

In that moment, the sac burst, falling away as though it were nothing but a hardy blanket as the larva rose like a pillar. The lab was silent, each breath caught in the throats of the people that witnessed the birth of a creature once considered a goddess. The pulsing grew with intensity, a humming filling the chamber as the larva was finally free of her slumber.

Gill brought a shaking hand to her brow, giggling with disbelief at the sight of something so precious - so rare.

The larva's limbs shivered, mandibles clicking with curiosity as ribbons of light trailed up and down her back. She had seen this place before. And something built within the deepest parts of her psyche told her that she would see it many times after. The larva turned around, looking down at the small hazmat-clad beings like one would look at a lost puppy.

"Meet Titanus Mosura." Tim spoke with reverent pride. "Or as we like to call her-"

"Mothra." Madison and Gill said in unison. They laughed.

"Incredible.." Emma whispered.

"Activating containment grid." said an automated voice.

In an instant, dozens of beams shot up from the ground, surrounding the larva. The larva winced, trilling with confusion. Innocently, she brought a pointed arm to the grid, pushing at it with caution. She lowered her head, forcing her way through the field but setting off a series of warnings as the grid now glowed a bright red. As quickly as the grid was turned on, it was shut off. As the AI blared a series of "Warning's", Emma turned around to the team of scientists behind her in frustration.

"What's happening?"

The larva released a shrill cry, thrashing about in the small space she was confined to. She was afraid. Below her the security team readied their stun rifles, aiming directly at her. A look of fear washed over Tim's face as he looked over the shoulder of one of the Monarch scientists.

"Something's going wrong here. Th-The containment systems are failing, perimeter alarms are going off - the whole network's going insane!"

"What do you mean? How is that even possible?"

Tim lowered his voice, worry palpable in his tone "This isn't from anything on our end, I-I think someone else is doing this."

Within the cell the larva continued its frightened rampage, limbs tearing at the walkway beneath it.

"Containment team, stand down. I repeat, stand down, you're scaring her!" Emma yelled into her mic.

As one of the guards aimed his rifle at the larva, trigger finger catching on the handle and releasing a short but audible spark, the larva stared down at him. Something in her demeanor changed, her blue light shifting to a deep, angry red. She huffed. Like flicking a crumb off a table, the man flew from the walkway to the exit door with a loud thud with the flex of the larva's arm.

With a yell, another guard pointed his rifle at the larva, this time giving no room for hesitation. The shot found its mark, hitting the larva dead center in her chest. As she writhed in pain from the electricity, she released a cry that made Madison's ears ring. Gill stood next to her in complete shock, hands covering her mouth as she looked to the team scrambling to make sense of the situation and back at the larva.

The larva also showed no hesitation, shooting a thick strand of silk at the men, catching four of them in the sticky web that covered the containment chamber. The rest had decided the fight was no longer worth it, no fight was when dealing with a titan. As they sprinted for the exit, one tripped, finding his leg caught between the mandibles of the larva herself. He screamed as he was lifted into the air, hitting the web with a thud.

With a haunted look on his face, Tim opened a glass lid, hand hovering over a red button. Gill grabbed his wrist, betrayal in her voice.

"NO!"

"I'm sorry, but you know the protocols, we have to terminate her."

"Don't, I'll handle this." Emma said, the same bulky suitcase tucked tightly under her arm.

Madison's heart caught in her throat, grabbing the hem of her mother's lab coat without thinking. "Mom-!"

"Madison, stay here" she nodded assuredly. "It's gonna work."

Emma pressed her clearance badge through the door's scanner, locking it behind her. A rush of sterile mist covered her and she took a deep, shaky breath through her nose. Her hands thrummed along the surface of the object she held. This wasn't just going to work, it had to.

Within the cell the larva writhed, confusion, anger, hurt wracking her body as her senses quickly became overwhelmed with chaos. So much for the birthday party.

"It's okay.." Emma whispered. She wasn't sure if that was for herself or the larva.

Slowly, she walked down the aisle, shoulders squared. The larva looked directly at her, hunched over and defensive. Even as a juvenile she was intimidating. Emma continued walking before the larva shook the walkway once more, nearly knocking her to her feet had she not caught the railing in the nick of time.

Behind the glass, Madison gripped Gill's arms as they stayed protectively wrapped around her. As Emma knelt down, setting the case on the floor of the walkway, the larva rose. She knew of the power she contained, rattling the carapace plates and snapping her mandibles at the woman as red-orange lights glowed from within her. She opened the case, eyes blinking rapidly between the larva and the device's unfolding panels. It whirred as it started itself. Emma tapped at the screen in a frenzy, trying as fast as she could to find the frequency she needed. Soon enough, with the right flick of a button the device released a sound, but the words on the screen that read "Analyzing Specimen Bioacoustics" had not changed. Emma cursed as the device released a series of pulses not unlike the ones the larva made, but not quite the same. The larva shook its head to rid itself of the noise, shooting a tendril of silk at Emma and just barely missing her before she could duck for cover. Madison wrenched herself free from Gill's grip, banging her hands on the glass.

"Mom!"

Emma returned to the device, shutting off the volume and scanning for a new frequency. Her mind raced, a thin layer of sweat gathering across her brow before she ducked to the side, once again narrowly missing being caught in a web. Madison's face scrunched in frustration and fear, turning around and snatching the badge off of Gill's coat.

"Hey!"

"Madison, wait!"

Gill and Tim ran for the girl but she was much too fast, pressing the badge to the scanner and slipping through the door in one swift motion. She locked it shut just before the two could pry it open.

In horror, Emma saw Madison rush towards her.

"Maddie, go back!"

The larva roared, anger and confusion imminent.

"NO!"

Without thinking, almost as if it were instinct, Madison stood between her mother and the newly born titan. Her arm raised out in defense. She could hear her mother still messing with the object she had brought with her, hoping that somehow it would work and save them both. Madison shut her eyes as the larva dove at them, digging her nails into the palm of her balled fist as she stayed standing. Tears stung at the edges of her eyes.

Like her brother, this was how she was going to die.

But nothing came.

Madison opened her eyes one at a time, gasping when she saw that the room was slowly but surely fading from red to blue. The larva was frozen as well, standing still as her limbs quivered close to her body. Slowly, it bent down, leaning forward to look closer at the small, bold being before it.

"What in the world.." Tim said in utter disbelief.

The bright blue lights thrummed throughout the larva's body in a way that reminded Emma of all the times she calmed Madison when she could only speak in gibberish.

"It's gonna be okay." Madison whispered, edging herself closer to the larva.

In that moment, Madison felt small. Smaller than the time she went on a roller coaster with her father at a carnival one weekend that ended up getting stuck at the top of a fairly high drop. Smaller than the time she had accidentally swam out past a sand bar at the beach. Swept up in the current far out enough that she couldn't reach the bottom and having to be fished out by some random bystander that happened to be nearby. In that moment, as she gazed into the bright eyes of the larva - no, Mothra - she understood that she was in the presence of something far, far bigger and far, far older than she could ever hope to understand.

Mothra knelt, curiously sniffing the tiny hand that reached out for her.

Shutting the device closed, Emma jumped, protectively grabbing Madison's arm. As the girl looked back, a wave of calm so sudden it frightened her washed over her face. Her grip loosened.

The larva was practically pressing her head into the girl's palm, and with a stretch of her fingers, she brushed the surface of her carapace. In that instant something clicked within Madison's mind. She couldn't quite put a name to it, but the words were just at the tip of her tongue. It was almost as if something - or someone - was pushing those words directly into her brain.

Mothra hummed, releasing a warm puff of air into the duo's faces that pushed them back a few feet. Madison smiled as the tear that had gathered at the edge of her eye rolled down her cheek.

Emma looked back into the lab, a mix of confusion and awe peppering everyone's faces.

But in that same second, a loud blast shook the temple with an ugly crash, followed by the sound of gunfire. Madison gasped, falling into her mother's arms as the larva quickly raised itself, defensively draping its body over the pair.

Madison couldn't see inside the lab, but the sound of bodies hitting the floor after every gunshot left little to the imagination. She sat still, allowing her mother to cradle her.

Tim was standing directly in front of the pane of glass when a bullet shot through his head, shattering the window. This time Madison did scream, curling into her mother's hold as she turned her head away seconds too late. The larva roared as a man dressed head to toe in black stepped through the glass and onto the walkway, followed by a group of men and women in a similar uniform, each holding what looked like assault rifles.

The man looked up at the young goddess with an unreadable expression, almost as if he had been expecting to see an insect the size of a building. Slowly, his gaze wandered down, meeting eyes with Madison herself. She shivered, but something about the man made an ugly, angry feeling burn within her.

Earth, 2019 - Wichita, Kansas

Elena poured herself a second cup of coffee, stirring in two spoonfuls of sugar and a shot of creamer in an almost robotic manner.

This time of the year always weighed heavily in her mind, and despite the overabundance of coverage all across the globe she did her best to avoid it. This year, however, she found ignoring it especially hard. As she flipped through channels, she stared ahead from across the room with a blank face, jaw tightening the more she carried on.

"Thousands gathered in the bay area last night to honor the victims of the 2014 attacks -"

" - part of the waves of memorials - and protests - demanding that the secretive monster-hunting coalition known as Monarch be held accountable."

"The recent spike in mass die-offs in the world's oceans could be caused by efforts to locate and track Godzilla, who hasn't been seen in nearly five years. The U.S. government refuses to disclose any involvement at this time."

"The mysterious organization - Monarch - is set to face another intense grilling as U.S. senators continue to push for extermination of the titans. And rumors persist that Monarch may be hiding even more creatures discovered since the attacks of 2014, a historic tragedy that changed the world as we know it forever - the day the world discovered that monsters are real."

With a sharp intake of air Elena shut off the tv, tossing the remote back on the counter and taking a large gulp of coffee.

It had been 5 years. 5 long years since the horror of her childhood was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. And with it came a flood of memories that even now she was still sorting out. She groaned, rubbing her eyes.

Deep breaths. Monarch is in the past. Your life is your own now. Just breathe.

She repeated those words in her mind in an endless loop, to the point where they melded into nothing but a string of meaningless sounds.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

She flinched at the sound. Brows furrowing, Elena carefully placed the mug on the counter, staring intently at the direction of the door. There was a second knock. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she stepped towards it, slowly - quietly. Before she could stand on the tips of her toes a third knock sounded from beyond the door, followed by muffled voices that almost seemed to be bickering if she listened closely enough. Confusion settling in with the quiet fear that burgeoned in her stomach like a swarm of frantic butterflies, she looked through the small peephole that sat just beneath the door's window.

Through it, she saw two figures. One of which was a woman sporting a platinum blonde crew cut, wearing a blank expression save for her lips twisting to the side with impatience. Accompanying her was a dark-haired man with a similar hairstyle, looking far more irritated than her. They both wore similar black uniforms, the collar reaching all the way up to their necks. An odd choice for a sunny May morning.

"We know you're there, Ms. Navarro." the woman spoke with a raised voice, what sounded like an English accent peppering her words. Their eyes connected through the peephole. Reluctantly, Elena opened the door, fingers moving from one lock to another, to another, and to another, eventually stopping on the chain that held the door to the wall. The woman was much taller than she expected.

"Yes?" Elena gulped. "What do you want?"

The man shifted his position, eyes briefly glancing up at the woman before staring ahead.

"Just a moment of your time. We're journalists looking for a civilian's introspective on the 2014 attacks, that's all."

Her voice was so steady, smooth even - like hearing running water. Elena swallowed a gasp when she found her hand hovering above the last of the locks. She closed her hand into a fist.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

The woman smiled but it did not reach her eyes.

"We'll pay you." the man chimed in.

"I said I'm not interested, thank you."

As Elena went to shut the door, the woman's foot jutted through the entrance, boot scraping against the floor. A sharp chill ran down her spine. In a hushed, shaky voice, she looked at the woman.

".....Are you with Monarch?"

Almost immediately the pair's demeanor changed to that of barely restrained amusement. Somehow, that didn't make Elena feel any better.

"We're not with any of your government organizations, Ms. Navarro. There's no need to worry."

Elena paused for a moment, staring at the two figures before her lips tightened to a thin line.

"Well, thank you for your interest but I'm not interested, sorry. Have a good day." she spoke in a rushed tone.

As she went to close the door again, the woman's boot remained unphased. Elena could barely form a sound in her throat before the woman motioned to the man with a tilt of her head, instantly raising his leg and slamming the foot of his boot against the door. It only took one good kick to its center to send the steel chain flying along with the door, knocking Elena on her back several feet backward.

Her heart was slamming against her chest as she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. Her shoulder throbbed where the door had connected with it, but there was no time to dwell. As Elena scrambled to her feet, the woman calmly stepped over the fallen door as the man stomped his way into her home, standing above her with a cold air around them.

Before she could slip away, the woman sprung forward, arms latching around her own as she pulled them taut behind her back. She could feel her breath hit hair that draped down her back.

"It'll be easier for you if you just comply with -"

With a growl, Elena's head shot backward, connecting with the woman's chin. One hand left her grasp while the other stayed clamped around her arm, but within seconds Elena had wrenched herself free, clawing at the other woman's hand.

The man was already in action, arms reaching for her but missing their mark when Elena ducked under him, sliding along the floor and springing back up on her feet. As she sprinted up the stairs to her room, she released a grunt when her arm caught on the railing, already feeling a bruise forming along her shoulder.

"Useless." the woman spoke through gritted teeth.

She could barely hear their hurried steps quickly gaining behind her over the sound of her pulse beating through her chest. But after what felt like ages she finally reached her room, shutting and locking it behind her before diving into her closet.

Mere seconds had passed before she heard slowing footsteps just outside of the room. Cursing to herself, she pressed a panel on the wall with her fist, impatiently shoving her hands into the secret space and pulling out a weathered bag. As she rifled through it, she heard the woman's footsteps cease.

"You did this to yourself, Elena. If you hadn't been so difficult .."

The doorknob jiggled, and for a second Elena thought she had lost all ability to breathe. Finally, she pulled out the object she had been looking for. But in that same moment, there was a deafening crash as the door slammed to the ground, followed by a pair of heavy footsteps. As the woman rounded the corner to the closet, Elena aimed -

"It wouldn't have escalated, now, would it?"

- her flare gun. Shit.

The woman showed no emotion when she shot Elena, a jolt of electricity coursing through her body as she faded into unconsciousness.

#godzilla #king of the monsters #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla fanfic #leviathanfic

6 notes · View notes

victorluvsalice · 5 years

Text

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines -- Tower Assault

Hey, I said this AU was on my mind -- and with the release of the newest (pre-alpha, admittedly) gameplay trailer for Bloodlines 2, that's unlikely to change anytime soon. So -- let's have some fic! :D Today's offering was inspired by a previous “updating the verse” post I made, where I talked about a change I thought of regarding Alice's final assault on LaCroix's tower -- rather than going in the front door and fighting her way through all those guards, she manages to get herself some climbing equipment and scales the damn building while Obfuscated. As you might imagine, this is the last thing LaCroix is expecting when he tells his elite guards (and Chunk, here called Officer Norris because that’s his voice actor’s name) to watch out for her. . .

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

"Officer Norris? Has there been any sign of our – miscreant?"

"Uh, no, Mr. LaCroix!" Norris chirped over the intercom. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of her! Promise I'll let you know the moment she comes by."

"Very good, Officer Norris. Thank you."

"Uh, Mr. LaCroix?" Norris got out before he could release the button. "Not to, you know, pry into stuff that ain't my business, but – why is it you want me to keep her out all of a sudden? You weren't really clear on that before. And us in the security business – well, it's important we get our facts straight, ya know?"

"She betrayed me, Officer Norris," LaCroix replied, letting the words roll off his tongue with silver smoothness. Not that he needed to waste such talents on Norris, but – practice. "She betrayed quite a lot of people, actually. She's been selling secrets to other parties, making deals with unsavory sorts. . .and I have reason to believe she's recently caused the death of a potential business partner of mine."

"Oh wow! That is – never would have thought it of her! She's always seemed like a bit of a tough cookie, but the kind with a creamy center, you know? All molten chocolate and–"

"Focus, Officer Norris," LaCroix said, rolling his eyes. Mortals and their obsession with food. His eyes flicked over to the sarcophagus. Then again – I know what it's like to anticipate a meal.

"Yeah, sorry, Mr. LaCroix. Er – so, if Alice is this dangerous, shouldn't we, you know, call proper 9-1-1 and all that? I got some buddies in the call center–"

"I assure you that all the appropriate measures have already been taken," LaCroix cut in before Norris could go on another ramble about his "cop friends." "There is no way Miss Liddell is leaving this city without facing justice for her crimes. If she does come here, you have my full authorization to use lethal force."

"Right you are, Mr. LaCroix." Norris sighed. "Hope it doesn't come to that, though. Man, and here's me, thinking she's a pretty sweet girl once you get to know her. . ."

"The cruelest wolf can mimic the friendliest dog, Officer Norris. Remember that."

"Sure will, Mr. LaCroix. And you can call me Chunk, you know!"

LaCroix winced. "Given our relationship, Officer Norris, I don't think that's appropriate."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. . .well, anyway. I'll give you a call moment I see her."

"Thank you, Officer Norris." LaCroix released the intercom button, leaning back with a sigh. "To think I employ someone like that," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now that Bach's little group has been – disbanded, I should give him his walking papers." He smirked, one fang peeping through his lips. "Though I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it? Not with what's in our future."

Melech nodded shortly, then glanced at him, eyes questioning. "Oh, she'll come," LaCroix said, steepling his fingers in front of him. "She will most definitely come. That rabblerouser Jack will have told her by now I'm responsible for all her woes. And has she not made it very clear, during our last few meetings, that she wished our – alliance, shall we say, to be at an end? The girl is a Brujah trapped in a Malkavian skin. She must be itching for a chance to take out her temper on me, and damn the consequences."

Melech tilted his head, lips slightly pursed. "Yes, I called the Blood Hunt, but would you trust the average Brujah or Gangrel on the street to take her out?" LaCroix responded, looking up into that stony face. "After the miracles she's committed? May I remind you that she has destroyed both the local chapter of the Society of Leopold – including one of my personal enemies – and the heart of the Los Angeles Sabbat? Tasks that were beyond your capabilities? And there was that news report the other evening, of the massive wolf found crushed to death in the Griffith Observatory. Somehow, I doubt that was the work of Nines Rodriguez – though it still worries me that we can't confirm his Final Death." He sighed, then waved a hand. "Well, I suppose if he does turn up alive – so to speak – it will make the Anarchs happy. And so far they seem willing to believe that Alice has thrown her lot in with Ming Xiao and her nest of snakes. So long as they remain enraged enough to drive those ridiculous excuses for foreign vampires out of my city, I shall be content. And then. . ." He looked again at the sarcophagus, anticipation clinging to its every chip and crack. "Then we will make plans accordingly."

He pushed back his chair and stood up, walking with lazy grace to his favorite spot in front of the window. Los Angeles stretched out before him, twinkling in the dark. He reached out, longing to scoop it up and capture it in his fist. "A shame, really – she could have had it all," he mumbled, flexing his fingers. "I was just beginning to realize her worth as an agent. To survive everything she did, to accomplish so many difficult tasks as a mere fledgling. . .I will give Fish this – he picked someone worthy of being an eighth-generation vampire. If she'd only been a bit more deferential, a bit less – well, her. . .we could have done amazing things together."

Melech rumbled an agreement. LaCroix sighed. "But, of course, she refused to cooperate. To let her full potential grow under my guidance. To accept the wisdom of her elders and betters. No, she had to go it on her own – to forge down the path of the fool and the malcontent." He chuckled briefly. "At least I have the pleasure of knowing that the Anarchs don't trust her either. From what I've heard, she had an early falling-out with Nines, and the rest of them find her as irritating as I do." His brow furrowed briefly. "Perhaps we really did drive her to the Kue-jin. . .no, she's too smart for that. She'd know they'd never actually accept her." He laughed again, a little louder. "What a silly girl, to reject any and all that could help her! She must feel quite alone on those streets." He leaned toward the window, drinking in his city with his eyes, running his tongue over his fangs. "An apt punishment for the hubris of the newborn."

"God, you love the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

LaCroix recoiled backwards, the scream of a little girl ripping itself from his throat. On the other side of the glass, Alice rolled her eyes, adjusting the harness she wore. "As if getting up this bloody tower wasn't grueling enough," she continued, bracing her legs on either side of the window frame. "What exactly are you compensating for? You're not that short, and I have it on decent authority that your interest in your manly bits should have waned with the Embrace." She shrugged, bending her knees and adjusting her grip on her rope. "I'll leave the question for the primogen to debate. Right now – for putting up with all your posturing and other various pieces of bullshit, I believe you owe me your life. In the most direct sense possible."

With that, she pushed off, sailing into the air – then came rushing back, thickly-booted feet held out in front of her. LaCroix scrambled to safety under his desk as the window shattered, sending shards of glass flying. Melech raised his massive sword to shield himself as Alice rolled to a stop. "Ah – gah – GET HER!" LaCroix managed to shriek, waving one arm wildly in her direction.

His sheriff, fortunately, was quick to comply. He flung aside his sword and coat, spreading his arms wide as he called up on his dark Disciplines. Moments later, his human form morphed and twisted, stretching itself into the terrible gigantic bat LaCroix had only seen twice before. Alice gaped, eyes wide, one hand on her harness's release. "What–"

Melech shrieked at her and flung himself into the air. His talons locked around her arms, dragging her back out the window and snapping the harness like it wasn't even there. "Yes – NO!" LaCroix cried after him, suddenly conscious of the incredible violation of the Masquerade. Too visible, much too visible – but she couldn't be allowed to survive this night – "The roof!" he screamed. "Take her to the roof!"

Melech squealed and wheeled around, dragging his dumbfounded passenger up to the highest point of Venture Tower. LaCroix huddled under his desk, arms around his knees, trying to control his trembling body. It's all right, he told himself firmly. It's all right. Melech will take care of her on the roof, and we'll let the morning sun dispose of the corpse. And – and we'll come up with an appropriate story for the masses later. An – an advertising gimmick gone wrong. A Batman cosplayer gone mad. Some sort of – of mass hallucination from swamp gas carried on the wind. We'll make it right. We'll find the key. And I will never have to worry about any of this ever again.

. . .God, I hope he wins that fight.

#londerland bloodlines #fanfic #'Melech' is the Sheriff for those not in the know #the guy doesn't have a name in canon but #well he's LaCroix's personal guard #surely his EMPLOYER would know his name #not to mention it felt weird just constantly calling him 'The Sheriff'#as our best guess at his clan is Nagloper #a Tzimisce variant from Africa #I looked up likely African names for him #melech is short for abdimelech #which according to the site I used means 'servant to kings'#seemed appropriate #basically this is just me having fun with Sebastian being such a pompous ass #and then giving up all attempts at dignity the minute Alice startles him XD #what can I say I am amused :p #also Alice couldn't get away with skipping the ENTIRE Sheriff boss fight #gotta pay your dues like the rest of us girl #at least she managed to avoid all the bullshit before it #queued

5 notes · View notes

icecubelotr44 · 6 years

Text

Clear and Present Danger (15/16)

I’m... still sorry?

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?)

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE. The amazing art she did for chapter 14 is HERE. Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,950 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: VIGILANTISM

The problem, it seemed, with telling Hades to go to Hell in a handbasket was that he was no longer willing to take Liam’s phone calls. That, in turn, made it far more difficult to find the bloody bastard and take the price of Killian’s death out on his worthless hide before sending him to the Underworld. Liam seethed, listening to the police scanner as Emma called every contact she had who owed her a favor or six. Part of him wanted - needed - to call David, to have his partner by his side for what might very well turn out to be his last suspect chase.

Liam didn’t much care if he survived this or not.

That, coupled with the questionable legality of this venture, was most of the reason Liam hadn’t let Nolan or Locksley know where he and Emma had holed up. They’d both either jump at the chance to help and end their careers or they’d try to be the voices of reason, slowing Emma and Liam down and letting Hades get further away.

Hades wasn’t walking away from this. Not while he was still breathing.

Emma looked nearly as furious as he felt. Contact after contact either refused to answer the unknown number from the burner phone she’d bought or they couldn’t - or sometimes flat out wouldn’t - help.

“Son of a bitch!” she shouted as she slammed the ancient looking flip phone closed. “Just answer the goddamned phone!”

Liam knew better than to ask, to speak, practically to breathe lest he turn her ire onto himself. They’d both been short the past two days, had had their fair share of fights with each other over trivial things.

It seemed that Killian was the only thing he and Emma could agree on. He didn’t deserve to die like that. He deserved to be avenged.

Bloody hell, he deserved to be happy and healthy and alive, grousing over Liam’s needling and Emma’s… well, he deserved to be able to know the love they both shared for him. Killian would be pissed at what they were doing. Not that Liam thought for an instant that his little brother wouldn’t do exactly the same if their roles were reversed.

God, he wished their roles were reversed. Killian was the good cop. Killian was the hero. Liam was just the baggage he had to carry around. The worthless git who couldn’t keep up with the image his little brother had of him. It was Liam’s job to protect Killian from the world, not to… not to murder him, himself.

Liam shut those thoughts down as quickly as he could, but not before they’d doubled him over like a sucker punch to the gut.

“Stop thinking about it,” Emma commanded, fixing him with a glare that would have cowed every instructor at the Academy.

Liam nodded, filing the emotions and the memories away for a time more suited to a glass or ten of scotch and no bloody demon to vanquish. There would be time to mourn Killian later.

If there was a later.

“Have we learned anything new?” Liam asked rather continue to dwell on that happy thought.

Emma shook her head. “Everyone I’ve managed to get a hold of is either a dead end or ‘will look into it’,” she said the last bit with every bit of mocking derision she could muster up.

Liam was a little impressed by it. He’d thought his little brother had cornered the market on dramatic, but now…

No! he thought angrily at himself. This was not the time. Killian and all the feelings associated with him other than vengeance needed to stay locked in a box.

“Hades must know by now that I’m coming for him,” Liam threw in sadly. “I almost wish I hadn’t-”

“Don’t,” Emma ordered again. “You can’t do that to yourself. You were under his thumb for far too long, Liam. It was the right thing to do.”

“It got Killian ki-”

Emma stomped her foot and strode forward, jabbing Liam in the chest with her finger. “Gold got Killian kil… it was Gold’s fault, not yours. He was coming for us either way; the timing was just…” she trailed off.

“There was never going to be a good time for Gold to show up,” Liam agreed half-heartedly. “But if Killian had been in top form… if he hadn’t been so hurt…”

“Then Gold would have changed the status quo so that Killian had no choice but to… to…”

It seemed neither of them could finish their sentences when it came to Liam’s little brother. He scoffed, almost genuinely. “My God, could I ever rile him up calling him ‘little brother’. He used to love it, you know? When we were very little, he’d go around telling anyone and everyone that he was ‘Liam Jones’s little brother’. He’d say it like it was something to be proud of.”

“It is, Liam,” Emma allowed. “He loved being your brother. He always did.”

“Aye.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, both pouring over document after document on their respective laptops. Between the information the department had on Hades and Liam’s documentation of every meeting he’d had with the man and his lackeys, they had plenty of paper trails to follow.

But none of them were worth a damn if Hades had decided to go to ground after learning that Killian Jones was dead right along with Robert Gold. The man had far too many contacts and far too much capital to be caught if he didn’t want to be found. Hubris might be his downfall, however, and it was Liam’s only hope at the moment. It was all he had going for him.

If his little brother’s death was going to mean anything, then Liam had to finish what he’d started. Had to truly finish it.

Only then could Killian rest.

Emma pounded the desk in frustration, shaking the box of pushpins and the flashlight that balanced precariously against the lamp.

“We’ll find him, Emma,” Liam tried to reassure, but it sounded hollow, even to his ears. Hades’ bank account statements were as good as frozen, his assets untouched. There was nothing to find on paper; they were just wasting time here.

“We’re wasting our goddamned time!” Emma echoed his thoughts as if he’d spoken aloud.

Liam nodded, shutting the laptop and folding his hands on top of it. “We are. Hades has no reason to do anything rash right now. Killian’s de- he’s no longer a threat. Nottingham’s death means that anything that ties Hades to Gold is hearsay at best. I’m…” he trailed off, eyes wide as he stared at Emma.

“No.”

But Liam’s brain was already spinning.

“No, Liam,” Emma said again, looking angrier and angrier as he continued to stare.

Liam grinned ferally. “It’ll work, Emma. You know it will.”

“How would we even contact him? You’ve already tried.” She nodded at Liam’s burner phone.

Liam shrugged. “Turn on my actual phone. You know he’s tracking me. Make it seem like I’m running…”

“There’s no guarantee he’d come himself.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “The last man standing who can take him down? He nearly lost everything trusting Gold to take care of Killian. He’ll come, Emma. He’ll be there to make sure.”

“Killian wouldn’t want this, Liam,” Emma tried.

“Well he’s bloody well not here to stop me, now is he?” Liam shouted, whirling on her.

Emma’s eyes widened, but then her nostrils flared. “And whose fault is that?” she screamed back.

Liam felt like he’d been shot.

“I…” she gulped and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean that.”

Liam sat down - or, rather, his legs gave out and dropped him in a chair unceremoniously. “Doesn’t make it any less true, lass. Let me make it up to him. Let me be the bait.”

“He’d kick my ass if I did,” Emma reminded him.

Liam laughed humorously. “Aye, and mine, too. But he didn’t even get a chance to get closure for Milah before… I need to do this, Emma. Please.”

Emma nodded slowly, still looking anything but happy about his idea. “I’d rather be with you than try to stop you, I guess,” was her only answer.

“I’ll take it, lass. Now,” he ordered, not giving her a chance to change her mind, “we have a lot of work to do.”

It was more difficult than he’d thought, however, to come up with a good place to stage the showdown. It always worked out so well in the movies: find the equivalent of an Old West style box canyon, stash weapons behind every crevice, and then call out the bad guy in the black Stetson.

In reality, it was a lot more effort to find unregistered weapons. For all Liam had been under Hades’ thumb, he’d never really crossed the line more than he’d had to. Not like most of the man’s minions, and certainly not like Gold had done. He had his own, personal weapon stashed away in a safe in the apartment, of course. And Emma had a small arsenal to her name, apparently. But as much as Liam didn’t care what happened to him, he didn’t want this to end up with Emma rotting in a prison cell for his vendetta.

Killian would come back from the dead to murder him if Liam survived that. And he’d haunt him in Hell for all eternity if he didn’t.

The ‘where’ was the easier option to figure out. Hades had any number of warehouses near the Harbor that he used for shipping goods and property overseas. Not all of them were monitored at all times and they could use his own holdings against him. Liam knew of one, in particular, that was right on the water and had a speedboat moored just outside. He and Hades had met there several times, the water and a rented boat of his own giving him a quick getaway if he’d needed.

Part of Liam wanted to finish this on the Jolly Roger… damnit, Killian, I’m not calling her that anymore… but he couldn’t bring himself to risk the ship. The Jolly had meant too much to his brother, to both of them, to risk her now.

And, goddamnit, he’d keep calling her the bloody Jolly Roger for as long as she was seaworthy. No matter how much it made him feel like a fool to captain a storybook character’s ship.

Liam still thought the Jewel of the Realm sounded much more regal, but he’d lost that bet a long time ago.

Finally, a contact of Emma’s - a woman named Lily who Liam trusted about as far as he could throw her - came through with a cache of weapons that they weren’t to ask as to the origins. All they needed to know, she’d assured them, that any ballistics trace would lead back to some very cold cases with suspects who were either already doing life or had been shot down before they could be taken into custody.

Liam didn’t want to know anything else.

Neither did Emma.

It took them another three days to scout the area and assure that it was currently unused and unguarded. Slowly, he and Emma began moving in the stolen weapons into blinds and slips throughout the office where they planned to confront Hades. They mapped the exits and likely places for Hades to order his own men for backup.

They were as ready as they were going to get.

“I still don’t like this,” Emma mumbled as she rubbed charcoal over her face. She had her own hiding spot picked out where she could be overwatch for Liam’s back. “I’d rather be down there.”

“I’m not go-”

“I swear to God,” she interrupted, “if you say that you’re not going to risk me over this, I’ll shoot you myself. In the ass.”

Liam gulped. The statement was funny, but the look on Emma’s face and her tone of voice was anything but. He nodded his acquiescence, but didn’t say anything else.

“The first sign of trouble, and I’m down there, you understand?” Emma asked, punctuating each word with a step towards him. “I won’t sit by and watch while Hades kills you just because you think you owe some kind of penance to Killian for what happened at the cabin.”

Liam opened his mouth to deny it, to tell her to stay put, to… he didn’t even know anymore. So he did perhaps the first smart thing he’d done since they started talking and shut his mouth.

“Good.”

God, Killian would kill him if he let anything happen to Em- no. Killian wouldn’t kill him. Killian couldn’t kill him. Liam sighed, checking the clip of the unfamiliar Sig Sauer for the fourth time. It was full, there were three extra clips stashed in various pockets, and there were a number more strategically placed throughout the warehouse.

Liam really didn’t want to know the details as to how they’d gotten their hands on so much ammunition.

“I think we’re ready,” Emma said quietly. Liam still heard the uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “I’m going to head out and get in position. You’ll wait until 7:30 tonight and then turn on your phone, right?”

Liam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, checking the clip again even as he eyed the SIM card from his normal phone resting on the table. They were both on edge, knowing what this meant and refusing to muck this up over some trivial detail. “Aye. And then I’ll take Storrow up to the Harbor and set up shop in the office, looking for the keys to Hades’ boat. We’ll get him, lass.”

Emma nodded. “We have to,” was the last thing she’d say to him before all hell broke loose hours later.

***

Liam waited by the door. He paced the length of the hallway. He checked and rechecked his weapon. He brought out the cleaning kit and meticulously went over every inch of the gun Killian had given to him that day at the cabin. He paced some more. He made a bowl of pasta before staring at it until it cooled and then tossing it in the rubbish.

He wasn’t nervous. No, not at all.

Finally, after what seemed like days, it was time to go. Liam checked the clip on his Sig for the umpteenth time, pried the back of his phone open, and inserted the SIM card. Two minutes - and a lot of cursing - later and the phone was on and broadcasting his location to whoever was looking.

Liam was positive that Hades was looking.

He left the ratty old apartment with its mice and questionable stains behind and headed down to the street, finally getting annoyed with his phone trying to explode in his pocket and turning it on silent.

There were over a hundred messages from David alone.

Liam was caught up in the need to call his partner again, wanting Nolan at his back when he did this. But no, he wouldn’t put David through that. Liam would rather have the man pissed at him forever than risk being gunned down - or worse - in front of him. Besides, David had a family to provide for; Liam had nothing to lose.

It seemed the car ride took forever and yet was over in the blink of an eye. Liam pulled into the warehouse’s parking lot and stashed the old beater deep in the shadows of the building. Emma was here somewhere, hiding in the catwalks with as good of a view as she could find of the office.

He was trusting her - and no one else - to watch his back. Liam hoped that Killian’s trust in her hadn’t been misplaced.

Not that it matters as long as I get Hades first, Liam thought derisively as he slid open the door just enough to squeeze inside. This would be over before it began if he tripped some kind of silent alarm or a well-meaning patrolman saw the door opening.

It was eerie inside the building, the cold winter’s evening doing nothing to combat the chill. The moon’s light filtering through broken window panes cast everything into sharp contrast, making Liam jump every time he moved. What was that line? You’re not paranoid if people are actually after you. Liam was certain that several people were after him, and any number of them could be hiding in the shadows.

Despite seeing images of hitmen and lackeys behind every box, Liam made it to the office unscathed. He set his phone down on the desk and started rifling through the drawers. He saw the keys under some files in the first one he looked through, but the boat wasn’t really his goal.

“Did you really think you could steal from me after turning your back on my generous offers?” an oily voice echoed through the room.

Hades.

Hades was his goal and the bloody bastard had sauntered right into their trap without a care in the world.

“You bloody bastard!” Liam shouted, coming around the desk to face the man head on and this wasn’t the plan. “My brother-”

“Your brother was a crimp in my plans and the only thing keeping you from reaching your full potential within my organization.”

Liam stumbled to a stop. The man was deranged. He’d thought that Killian was holding him back? His head started shaking before the words even formed. “If it wasn’t for my brother, I’d have put you behind bars the first time you cornered me on the Jolly Roger. Killian was your only bargaining chip and your lap dog killed him, you… you… you demon!”

Hades shrugged. “An unfortunate mistake and one I would have rectified myself if you hadn’t taken out Robert yourself. He was under orders not to harm Killian, if you remember correctly. That was part of the deal we made. A deal that I never went back on, unlike you.”

“Don’t you dare speak his name,” Liam hissed vehemently. “You don’t deserve to even think about my brother.”

The smirk on the bastard’s face had to go. “Your brother was… shall we say, becoming problematic. He and his little princess were coming far too close to discovering my ties to your depart… I’m sorry, it’s not yours any longer.” - he nodded to Liam’s side, where he’d been stabbed the year before - “Regardless. They were going to erase my ties to Killian’s department and I wasn’t going to stand for that. Robert got cocky. Just. Like. You.”

Liam heard the muffled shouting before Hades was finished and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He pulled the Sig Sauer from the small of his back finally and aimed it at Hades’ heart. “I can end you; right here, right now.”

“Ah ah ah,” Hades tutted, not flinching with the barrel of the gun pointed at him. “You might no longer care about yourself, but what about…”

He turned his back on Liam as the door to the office opened again.

“Miss Swan, how nice of you to join us.”

Emma hated waiting. For coffee in the morning, for leads to come in, for stakeouts to come to fruition, for Killian to… nope. She hated waiting. She hated being kept on the sidelines even more, and this… this felt a lot like being sidelined. She shifted in the rafters again, her burner phone off but still digging into her hip where she was lying uncomfortably on it. She should have just left it in the car - there was no one she could call now and no one who would be calling her. Liam was the only one with the number anyway and he had no reason to get ahold of her.

They knew the plan. They had gone over it so many times and it was a good plan. It would work and Hades wouldn’t be leaving here alive. A tiny part of Emma was screaming in the background about justice and vengeance and vigilantism, but the part of her that had been consumed with grief after losing Killian shut it up quicker than she could blink. Gold may have been the reason Killian had died but Hades was responsible and she wasn’t going to give him a chance to wield his power from a prison cell.

No, Hades was going to find his end here, today, and Emma knew that of all the things they disagreed on, she and Liam were on the same page with this.

Now she just had to find a way to keep Liam alive throughout this whole mess.

Emma rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks before she had to actually focus. They’d agreed that she should get here hours ahead of time to scout out the location, but there wasn’t a soul within 500 yards of the place and nothing was moving in the cavernous room below her other than rats.

Which left Emma with far too much time to think. She thought about what Killian would have thought about all this. She thought about what might have happened with them if he’d had time to come to terms with Milah’s murderer being dead. She thought about why she’d been so frightened of him and what they could be together.

She thought about the words she hadn’t said to him and if he knew she’d believed them.

Hours passed slowly, the dripping of water somewhere to her left doing nothing to speed up time. She’d counted to a thousand and then backwards by sevens, she’d memorized the alphabet backwards in French, she’d named every capital and its state that she could remember - and would swear she got all 50 if anyone ever had reason to ask.

Finally, when it seemed like she was going to have to resort to naming every animal she’d ever heard of or something equally as ridiculous, Emma heard the warehouse door screech open. She risked a look at her watch and frowned. It was barely 7:30. Liam shouldn’t have even left the safe house yet, never mind gotten through traffic and made his way into the building.

It wasn’t Liam.

Emma watched with bated breath, trying to see around an upright without moving. She could just see the shadow of someone standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and not moving. There hadn’t been anyone here for days; it seemed highly unlikely that Hades would - all of a sudden - decide to use it on a Wednesday night in February. Unless…

Unless Hades already knows you’re here. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Killian, which was enough to give her a moment’s pause. He… or she, she supposed, was right, though. If their trap was actually a trap for Liam, for them, then she had to get out of there. She had to warn Liam. She had to-

She had to take better stock of her surroundings. No one could possibly know where she was in the warehouse, if they even knew she was already here. The place was huge and the scans they’d run over the past few scouting trips hadn’t revealed any cameras or wireless signals broadcasting off site. If there were cameras they’d missed, they were on a local feed and whoever was here hadn’t even come in the building yet.

Don’t panic, don’t give your position away prematurely; Emma’s training ran through her head even as she mapped possible exits. She’d left herself three egress points from where she lay - the path up to the roof behind her as well as left and right along the catwalk. Unless her interloper had friends, she had options.

Emma froze as a man finally walked around the I beam that had hidden him and stopped in a beam of light filtering through a window. He was tall and skinny, his head darting back and forth wildly as he looked around the room. There was something familiar about him, but Emma was sure she’d never seen him before. He wasn’t looking up at her, though, and that allowed her to breathe a little easier.

All she had to do was wait for him to move, to figure out why he was there, and she’d be set. She could text Liam to let him know there was an unaccounted for variable and that would be that.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally the jumpy man left, sliding the door shut and leaving the warehouse blanketed in silence once more.

Weird, Emma thought, her own sharp gaze flicking wildly around the room below her, trying to figure out what he’d done. Why he’d been there. Who he was. She slid the burner phone out of her pocket and flipped it open, glad that - for all its lack of features - it remembered her brightness preferences. Emma squinted in the darkness, trying to make out enough of the screen to pull up the texting page and then Liam’s number.

She never expected to be blinded by every one of the warehouse’s lights coming on in an instant.

Emma couldn’t bite back the cry of surprised pain as she slammed her eyes shut against the bright light that assaulted her vision. She blinked rapidly, shielding her eyes from as much of the light with one hand and scrabbling to find the phone she’d dropped with the other. She’d only just brushed over it with her fingers when a sound to her right startled her.

The next thing she heard was the crash of plastic shattering against concrete after her phone careened off the catwalk.

Damnit!

Ignoring the phone, Emma rolled onto her back, pulling her sidearm and aiming it at the noise she’d heard first.

A burly man stared back, his own weapon trained on her chest and how in the hell had he gotten there without her hearing him?

“Get up,” he snarled, gesticulating with the weapon. “Leave the gun.”

Not bloody likely, Killian’s voice echoed in her ear as Emma got slowly to her feet. She eyed her other two exits as she stood, surprised to find the spindly man she’d been watching aiming his own weapon at her from the ladder behind her. How had he gotten there so quickly?

“Kick the rifle off,” Burly ordered, cocking his pistol and leering at her.

Emma turned to face him, putting Panic at her left and keeping Burly in front of her. She needed the rifle to watch Liam’s back once he got here, but she needed to not be dead in order to do that.

Emma hadn’t gotten as far as she had in life without learning how to improvise. She took four huge steps back from the rifle instead, raising her weapon in supplication and wondering how far he’d let her go before-

BANG!

A bullet whizzed over her head and slammed into the wall far behind her. Emma could hear the projectile ricocheting around the warehouse until, finally, it buried itself into something.

“That’s far enough, girlie,” Burly told her, his smile getting even more lewd as he blew on the barrel of the smoking gun. “Boss wants you alive for his grand finale with Jones.”

Emma resisted the urge to hang her head. If Hades knew who she was, and that Liam was coming, they’d never stood a chance.

She took another step back, watching Panic move steadily towards her and she wanted to swing the weapon down to bear on him, wanted him to back off, but Burly sent another bullet her way and this one nicked her ear. Hot blood coursed down the side of her head even as she ducked away from the pain, clapping a hand over the wound and hissing when she put pressure on it. Barely a graze, but enough to get the message across.

They had her dead to rights.

“Put. The gun. Down,” came the order from behind her. A third man that she hadn’t even known was there poking his head out of the hatch from the ladder she’d climbed hours before. His own weapon was trained on her back.

Well, shit.

Emma had no choice. She put the gun down.

“Very good, lass,” the third man praised facetiously, grinning as he climbed off the ladder and moved towards her. He motioned her backwards as he reached for her weapon, Panic’s own gun settling in the middle of her back.

She was trapped.

“This is some fancy hardware, love,” Burly commented idly as he picked up her rifle, swinging it around until the strap secured it to his back.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma hissed, every muscle in her body tensing for a fight.

The third man snickered and took another step forward, jamming the barrel of his gun under her chin and twisting. If not for Panic’s gun in her back, Emma would have made the asshole eat it.

“I’m going to have some fun making you scream,” he promised, and Emma named him Pain.

“Not if I get you first,” Emma whispered back, pleased to see a flicker of fear cross his features at her tone before he lifted his chin and grinned.

“Once the boss is done with you and your… did you switch brothers so quickly? Is that what this is?”

Emma bristled.

“Guess not,” Pain continued as if they were exchanging idle gossip. “Either way, I’m going to have fun breaking you when Jones is drowning in his own blood.”

Emma’s sarcastic retort was cut off when he reached out and pinched her bleeding ear, twisting and giggling when she tried to suppress the cry of pain.

“Enough,” Burly commanded. “Boss wants her quiet until Jones gets here.”

Emma didn’t have enough time to think about what that meant before the lights went out - metaphorically and physically.

***

When Emma finally came around, she was lying on her stomach with a gag in her mouth and one of the men sitting on her back.

“We’ve just got to wait for the signal, girlie,” the man sitting on her tapped the back of her head with what felt like his gun. Burly, then, she thought. “Then you and lover boy can be reunited.”

Emma didn’t know if he was smart enough to mean Killian or dumb enough to mean Liam.

It took a few moments but soon Emma heard the screech of the warehouse door and measured footsteps echoing over the concrete floor she was lying on.

Run, Liam! Get out of here! she muttered angrily as she thought the commands as loudly as she could. She could see Panic pacing the floor in front of her and hear Pain’s amused breathy chuckles to her side. This was her last chance. If she could just make some kind of commotion… if she could…

“Don’t even think about it,” Burly ordered as he slid the cool metal over her throbbing ear. “You wouldn’t get two steps before we took you out and Jones is already a dead man walking.”

Emma squirmed anyway, ignoring the way Pain kicked her in the side and Burly shouted for him to be careful - he’d almost nailed the idiot in the jewels. There was nothing for it; she’d have to wait for some more of Hades’ plan to work itself out before she could find a way to escape.

To keep herself and Liam alive until they could regroup.

All too soon, she was dragged to her feet, her hands still bound behind her and the dried blood on her neck pulling at the little hairs there. Emma’s eyes watered as she was shoved along, Pain and Panic each taking an arm as Burly prodded her with his gun.

She was going to make him eat a bullet first chance she got.

“Ah ah ah,” she heard Hades scold someone - probably Liam. Her heart sank. “You might no longer care about yourself, but what about…”

Emma stumbled as Pain shoved her out of Panic’s hold and into the room. He didn’t give her a chance to straighten up before he’d clamped one hand around her neck and jammed the pistol into the base of her skull.

“Miss Swan,” Hades continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, brandishing - of all things - a nasty looking dagger, “how nice of you to join us.”

Liam looked broken, holding his weapon shakily on Hades but looking at her like his world had ended. And, she realized quickly, if they didn’t find a way to turn this on its head, it very likely had. They wouldn’t survive this without some kind of intervention and Liam would never rest if he didn’t avenge Killian first.

Neither would she.

“Let her go, you bastard. It’s me you want.”

Emma almost rolled her eyes. Leave it to a Jones to be chivalrous to a fault. Even when it was futile.

“Actually,” Hades spoke as if he were teaching a toddler, “it’s both of you. Did you miss the part where Miss Swan, here, is hellbent on taking down my entire organization?”

Pain shook her as if Liam needed the reminder that she was there. Emma’s head was spinning, stars beginning to cloud her vision. She needed to breathe.

“Let. Her. Go.” Liam commanded again, his hand shaking more violently as he raised the point of the gun a little higher.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Hades began conversationally. “Miss Swan is going to keep us company for a little while. I’m sure my… associates will have some interesting things to show her. Then-”

Burly piped up. “Then you’re gonna-”

Hades nodded once and Pain pulled his gun away from Emma’s head long enough to put a bullet through Burly’s skull.

“I don’t like when you interrupt me,” Hades spoke to the corpse. Panic started fidgeting, hopping from foot to foot and swinging his own gun wildly from Burly to Liam and back again.

“As I was saying,” Hades continued, “While these two imbeciles are keeping Miss Swan company, you’re going to go down to the precinct and make sure that any files on me have been erased.”

Liam shook his head. “Not a chance. Let Emma go. She has access to the files; I don’t.”

Hades laughed. “I’m sure you can get… creative.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I” - he swung the weapon to sight in on Panic - “just take out your men one by one?”

Panic blanched, his eyes frozen on Hades while his gun hovered somewhere close to pointing at Liam’s abdomen.

Not a good shot, then, Emma thought, watching Liam warily.

Apparently he had the same idea, if the next few minutes of utter chaos were any indication. Emma sagged completely in Pain’s grasp, falling to the floor and nearly passing out when his hand tightened around her neck. But it gave Liam the opening he needed to shoot the bastard in the neck, killing him in the time it took Pain to sag to the ground and collapse on top of her.

“Liam! Look out!” was all Emma could yell from where she was pinned to the floor, watching in slow motion as Hades snarled, raising the knife and charging across the room. Panic fired his weapon, spinning Liam around and out of Hades’ direct path, but that was the only shot he was able to fire off as another bullet came out of nowhere, stopping him dead in his tracks as he looked down, comically almost, at the spreading flower of blood on his chest. He threw one scathing look towards the door before he hit his knees and fell, face first, onto Burly’s back.

“Detective!” a voice shouted from behind her, but with the adrenaline flowing and the fear taking hold, Emma had no idea who was shouting.

Liam’s left hand clutched at his shoulder as he turned just in time to catch Hades’ arm as it arced towards his unprotected back. They both fell to the floor in a tussle of limbs that left Emma lost as to who was whom.

“Detective?” a voice asked, booted feet in front of her as whoever it was watched the scene in front of him. Emma tried to look up, but only got as far as jean-clad knees before Pain’s bulk halted her movements.

“Fine!” she shouted. “Help Liam!”

Someone else kneeled next to her and Emma’s head whirled around, making something snap audibly in her neck and causing her to cry out.

“Hold on, Detective,” the other voice soothed, placing his gun on the ground in her line of sight before disappearing.

Seconds later, the weight on her back disappeared and Emma scrambled to her feet, snatching up the gun and pointing it at whoever moved.

Robin and David both stared at her with raised eyebrows before turning back to the melee at their feet. Every time one of them tried to get close enough to pull the grappling men apart, the knife slashed out and backed them up. Emma tried to train her gun on Hades, but it was a lost cause; there was too much movement to ensure that she wouldn’t hit Liam.

“Help him!” she shouted again, dizzy now that she’d paused for a moment. Adrenaline could only overcome so much and Emma had been unconscious for a considerable amount of time before this.

“We’re trying!” David shouted at her, looking as lost and terrified as she and Liam had felt after Killian was shot.

Robin peeled his gun out of Emma’s hands as she wavered, nearly stumbling into David. She couldn’t see straight now and relinquished the weapon as she started to buckle back to the ground. Arms held her up, slowing her descent, but couldn’t stop her fall.

She shook off the help, watching with bated breath as the two men rolled again. “Help him, please,” she muttered, not knowing how they could do anything but watch.

David was shaking next to her, resting on one knee and gripping his weapon as if he could will it to fire the right shot. “He needs this,” was all he muttered.

And then, it all ended in a flash of light and the smell of gunpowder and the pained shout that drowned out everything else.

Hades had gotten the advantage, one hand clasped around Liam’s as it choked the life out of him and the other raising the knife above his head. Robin was the one who took the shot, firing through the middle of Hades’ back and not taking any chances with a head shot. It didn’t matter; Hades was dead before he fell, but the damage was done. The path of his knife drove it into Liam’s side as he landed on top of him, and Emma heard the clink of metal chipping concrete even as Liam screamed.

“NO!” they all shouted, and time sped up as Emma scrambled to his side, securing the knife in her hand as David peeled Hades’ corpse off of Liam’s chest. Liam’s blood ran hot over her hand as she grabbed the shirt Robin pressed against the wound.

“Son of a bitch!” Robin muttered as he pulled out his phone. “Killian is going to murder me for this.”

Everything stopped.

Emma started to shake.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her hands went numb.

Her eyes started to water.

She’d never been this cold.

She couldn’t hear anything.

Nothing except Robin’s words echoing.

“Killian is going to murder me.”

Killian!

Is. Present tense.

Present.

Alive?

Emma’s eyes swiveled up, fighting off the blackness that was encroaching on her vision as she silently begged Robin to explain.

“Kil… Killian?” she croaked, her voice cracking on every syllable.

Robin nodded. “I tried to find you two. Bloody hell, would it have been too much to leave a damned phone on? I didn’t have time to tell you beforehand and then, by the time we got him settled, you were gone. He’s going to have my head for worrying you guys like this.”

Emma just shook her head, sure that it was some kind of oxygen deprived hallucination. “Wh- what?”

Robin shrugged apologetically, holding up a finger when his phone finally connected with a dispatcher.

Emma whirled on David, snarling when he tried to move her out of the way to put pressure on the wound in Liam’s shoulder. “What?” she screamed again, well aware that she sounded a little hysterical.

“I didn’t know, Emma. I swear, I wouldn’t have done this to him” - he nodded at Liam - “or to you. Robin got some credible intel from one of their sources that Hades had put a price on Killian’s head. He didn’t have time, and he didn’t think about anything. He just… he got Whale to fake Killian’s death. You two disappeared before we could tell you.”

Emma stared for another minute before she felt tears streaming down her cheeks. Jones was alive! Killian was… he was… they could…

Liam groaned, not really conscious and not aware that his life was slipping away and his goddamned brother was alive! Emma pushed down harder around the knife, careful not to slice her hand open but unwilling to let him slip away.

It wasn’t going to be enough. Liam went slack beneath her hands as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and then closed.

“Don’t you dare!” Emma shouted, pushing down harder on the gaping wound and ignoring the way her palm split open along the blade, their blood mingling together on the wadded up shirt.

Liam went frighteningly limp and Emma swore.

“You self righteous asshat! You don't get to die and leave me to tell Killian you were a goddamned hero!”

tagging: @killian-whump @gilliangrissom @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @courtorderedcake

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #liam jones #brothers jones

44 notes · View notes

clarascuro · 5 years

Text

Clara Reads City of Bones Part 3: Hogwarts Institute for Witchcraft and Shadowhunting

The Plot Thus Far

When last we left off, our lovable cardboard cutout protagonist, Clary Fray, had been attacked by a demon called a Ravener and taken to a place called “The Institute”. After three days of recovery, she has an uncomfortable (for us) conversation with Isabelle Lightwood, where we learn that Isabelle is hot and that we, the audience, should hate her for that, and also that Jace Wayland lives with the Lightwood family because his parents are dead. We are meant to feel bad about this. We are meant to feel sorry for Jace, which is a bit of a tall order, considering that Jace Wayland is the worst person to ever smirk and shrug his way through a YA book. If I were trapped in an elevator with him I wouldn’t even wait five minutes to be rescued, I’d pry those doors open and just drop. Death is cruel but quality time with Jace Wayland is crueler.

So Clary leaves the hospital wing and goes down a long hallway, lead by the sound of someone playing a piano. Last time I said that it was Alec (Isabelle’s brother) who played piano, and that it was his only character trait, but nope!! It’s actually my favorite boy Jace, that sack of human refuse! So I guess Alec has no personality, actually. Anyway, they have some “witty” “banter”, and then Alec takes her to the library to talk to the head of the Institute, Hodge Starkweather, and, yeah. I think it’s time to talk about the Harry Potter stuff.

The Harry Potter Stuff

You know how E.L. James made minor changes to her crappy Twilight fanfic and then published it as 50 Shades of Gray? Well, as near as anyone can figure out, this is basically the same thing that Cassandra Clare did with her Harry Potter fanfic The Draco Trilogy. Just change the names, tweak the backstories ever so slightly, slap on a crappy cover and publish that sucker! It’s technically not plagiarism anymore! This is how you end up with stuff like "The Institute”, a secret school to teach young magic kids to control their powers, or Hodge Starkweather, elderly magic professor, who, one could argue, is a crackpot old fool teaching our protagonists magic tricks. (Gosh, how does Clare come up with this stuff?)

This obviously isn’t proof of any kind, but when the villain of your story is named “Valentine” and he’s an evil magic user who has been dead for sixteen years (the age of our secretly magic protagonist) and the main characters are afraid to even say his name...yeah, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where all of this comes from.

Now all this is frustrating, but it’s also hilarious. I mean, the big bad of the story is called Valentine. VALENTINE. And I actually laughed out loud for several minuted when I first read the name “Hodge Starkweather” to myself. I still get a little chuckle typing this. Oh, and since the word “muggle” would have JK Rowling’s lawyers on her ass faster than light, the word Cassandra Clare uses for non-magic people is...”Mundie”. It’s short for “mundane”. Like...first of all this is objectively hilarious. Second, mundane just means “normal”. If the Shadowhunter society is magical, then aren’t they they mundane ones? I know humans don’t have magic, but we still figured how to like, fly and stuff. That has to count for something. If I saw a dog that taught himself how to read, I wouldn’t like, make fun of him for not also being able to talk. I’d be like “Shit! That’s a pretty impressive fucking dog!” like what the fuck?

Anyway, this is all just a roundabout way to say that obviously this used to be a HP fic that through some twist of fate landed a publishing deal. And you know, it’s not as brain-meltingly bad as 50SoG, so who cares? Cassandra Clare’s just having fun, so who cares if her writing gets published?

Well...

The Plagiarism

So, yeah, she plagiarized lot. Like a lot. The Draco Trilogy has lines of dialogue taken directly from shows like Red Dwarf, Black Adder, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novels. Quoting shows apparently used to be pretty common in the early days of fanfiction, so there is context to consider here, but it gets worse. Cassandra Clare lifted almost a whole chapter, nearly word for word, from an out-of-print fantasy series called The Hidden Land, by Pamela Dean. On top of that, Clare was sued in 2016 by author Sherrilyn Kenyon, whose Darkhunter series predates Clares Shadowhunters series. (And for the record, Clare’s series was originally titled Darkhunters. Yikes.) You guys can read the full(ish) stories here and here.

I Guess I Have To Keep Talking About The Plot Now

Sigh. So after Hodge Starkweather (A+ naming there) tells them about Valentine, he explains that Shadowhunters are angel-human hybrids? Or something? They’re special, and they fight demons. Also faries, vampires, werewolves, all that stuff exists. We’re stuck with the Shadowhunters, however, because God has punished me for my hubris, and my work is never done. (Oh look, I just plagiarized Brian David Gibert. I’m a real author now, like Cassandra Clare!) The Shadowhunters were started thousands of years ago by a man named, I shit you not, Jonathan Shadowhunter. JONATHAN. FUCKING. SHADOWHUNTER. Why the fuck am I trying to come up with clever names for my characters? I should just name them all “Alex Clarasbook” and call it a fucking day. Fuck.

Anyway after a thrilling conversation with Alec-Who-Has-No-Personality, we find out that he does have a personality! His personality is that he hates humans. Oh, excuse me, “mundies.” Yep, that’s the best way to make a character relatable. Just make ‘em fucking racist. It’s okay though, it’s only magical racism so it evens out. Have I mentioned that this story has no poc?

(Oh also Clary’s mom was a Shadowhunter, but 1. I hate Clary and 2. literally a newborn baby could’ve figured that out, so)

Clary and Jace leave the Institute to go back to Clary’s house, and Clary slaps Jace, an act that brings me such joy that only the birth of my firstborn child will ever eclipse it, and even then, it will be it close tie. The moment is quickly over, however, as Clary immediately feels bad about it, because again, she is not a character. She’s a Walmart mannequin created for Jace to make out with. Then she sees two girls looking at Jace, and, in what can only be called the true essence of the book, “Clary turned instant traitor against her gender.” Just as a reminder, Clary sucks.

Anyway they get to her house, kill a giant, talk to a witch, yaddah yaddah yaddah. Basically nothing happens except the inevitable unraveling of my mental processes. I had to stop reading there because I have better things to do with my life besides destroying the few braincells I have left. I’ll post the next part soon, as soon as I can read more than five pages without wanting to fling the book off a seaside cliff into the frothing mist that obscures the swell and crash of the unforgiving waves. Until then, please enjoy some of my favorite bad lines.

Selected Passages (And Commentary)

“Jace chuckled. Clary could tell that he had come up behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning that infuriating grin of his.” (She knew all that without looking?)

“Attacked. Clary wondered if this was a euphemism for ‘murdered’.” (Clary you’re literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met.)

“Clary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.” (This may just be me being petty, but I hate this cliche so much.)

“‘You may be the only guy my age I’ve ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it’s in Earl Grey tea.” (Ah yes, that famous stereotype, that boys don’t know about tea. Oh, you like tea? Name three kinds. I hear sexist gatekeeping is a real problem in the tea community. I am not having a good time.)

“Dorothea chuckled. ‘It’s good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays.’ ‘Thanks,’ Clary said. She thought of Isabelle’s tiny waist and felt suddenly gigantic.” (Cassandra Clare’s super feminist, guys. You can tell because she’s always pitting her female characters against each other.)

Rating So Far

3/10-Bad. Jonathan Shadowhunter gets an entire 10/10. I’m going to have my name legally changed to Jonathan Shadowhunter.

#Clara Reads City of Bones #city of bones #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #come at me i wanna fight

1 note · View note

juniper-and-lamplight · 6 years

Text

Podfic Favorites

7/8/2018

I promised a rebloggable podfic rec list, and here it is! I've recced most of these before, so this is more of round-up than a brand-new rec list; it's multifandom, as usual; it's organized alphabetically by podficcer's name; and it's restricted to no more than 5 pods per podficcer. All of these and more can be found in the podfic tag of my bookmarks. Recs under the cut!

A Symphony of Chemical Reactions - what_alchemy, read by @cellardoortumbles | Cellar_Door - 2k, 22min, T, John/Sherlock "Cooking’s just chemistry and time management." Vivid, quirky Sherlock POV in the text + excellent use of music and sound in the pod = an extra-charming podfic. Use headphones to get the full audio experience!

More Things Than Are Dreamt Of series - 1electricpirate, read by @consultingsmartarse | consulting_smartass - 38k, 1hr, M to E, John/Sherlock (Harry Potter fusion AU) “In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious.” Hands-down my favorite Potterlock fic, and consulting_smartass' podfics are nuanced and immersive -- I've listened to them countless times now.

Sussex - SilentAuror, read by consulting_smartass - 26k, 3hrs, E, John/Sherlock “John can’t seem to stop touching Sherlock. He can push the anger away, but sometimes he just needs to take Sherlock’s pulse again. Slight angst, case-fic, post-Reichenbach.” Ah, nothing like realistic emotional constipation on the parts of our heroes. This was one of the first podfics I loved enough to download so that I'd always have access to it.

The Stars Move Still - BeautifulFiction, read by consulting_smartass and aranel_parmadil - 96k, 9hrs 48min, E, John/Sherlock, AU "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?" I avoided this fic for YEARS because I hate Faust, so I was extremely pleased to discover that the inspiration is VERY loose and thus, the fic, and the pod version, is lovely and incredibly immersive.

Carry On - Mazarin221b, read by consulting_smartass - 4k, 35min, M, John/Sherlock "Five times John didn't want to be carried, and one time he did." One of my favorite 5+1 fics, and a perfectly paced short pod.

Left - lifeonmars, read by consulting_smartass - 45k, 5hrs, E, John/Sherlock, magical realism AU "John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible." Honestly, consulting_smartass' talent has broadened my fanfic horizons, because while I'm generally not keen on reading AUs (especially long ones), I'm amenable to listening to them -- and so I don't miss out on fantastic fics & performances like this one.

The Girlfriend Experience, rageprufrock, read by dodificus - 9k, 2hrs, E, Dean/Castiel “While it’s not like Dean hasn’t had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.” Sometimes, when a podficcer's accent is different than the accents in the source material, it just works in ways you wouldn't have expected-- this pod is one of those times.

The Company - Rulerofthefakeempire, read by @dr-fumbles-mcstupid | Dr_Fumbles_McStupid and RsCreighton - 2k, 11min, T, Dirk/Todd "He’s imagined this moment so often that it feels like he just doing it again, waking up with a hangover next to Dirk Gently. And Dirk’s naked." A quietly funny fic, and a quietly funny performance.

Interrogation - goingtoalaska, read by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid - 2k, 13 min, G, Dirk/Todd "Of course Dirk has some extremely important questions that can only be asked in the middle of the goddamn night, obviously." Almost entirely dialogue, and really captures the ridiculous-with-an-undercurrent-of-softness vibe of these two characters.

There's Only One Sure Thing That I Know - leah k (blinkiesays), read by exmanhater - 20k, 2hrs, E, Dean/Castiel "Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest." This podfic is a road-trip standby for me and my Destiel-shipping wife.

A Statue Strong Enough for Two - lady_ragnell, read by exmanhater - 39k, 3hrs 30min, E, Elena/Mithian, superhero AU "Elena is a street-level superhero. A visit from an old enemy forces her to step up and see what she might have to do with the Sidhe who invaded and were sent away twenty years ago. Luckily, she has fellow superheroes to back her up, and a new girlfriend in her regular life to make things feel more normal." In addition to encouraging me to try out AUs, podfic also encourages me to try out rarepairs--I wouldn't have thought to look for fic about these characters, but I'm so glad I stumbled across & listened to this one.

Lab Book - copperbadge, read by FayJay - 5k, 40min, E, John/Sherlock “'The likelihood of finding a cab on Christmas Eve is fast approaching nil.’ 'So was the likelihood of you kissing me in the middle of the pavement, and yet.’” An annual holiday read/listen!

Whatever Remains, However Improbable - ivyblossom and Loudest_Subtext_in_Television, read by @fffinnagain | finnagain - 13k, 90min, T, John/Sherlock “The evidence is all there: we know it’s bound to happen. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are going end up together, aren’t they? Obviously!” An experiment in fourth-person omnitemporal tense. Subtle sound effects add dimension to this podfic.

Diversionary Tactics - shinysherlock, read by finnagain - 2k, 16min, E, Molly/Irene, historical AU "Oh. This could be interesting. Irene’s fingers moved to the third button of the dress and paused. 'Shall I just . . . check the rest of you, then? Make sure you’re quite all right?'" A brief, hot, historical PWP, Mollrene style. UNF. Finnagain's performance is very...impassioned--maybe don't listen in public ;)

Seeing Draco Malfoy - khalulu, read by fire_juggler - 12k, 2hrs, E, Harry/Draco A beautifully done podfic, delivered with warmth and humor. Once I listened to it twice in one week and wound up with the phrase “Nubbumping Humdinger” stuck in my head, and it made me bust out smiling at random times :-)

Let Nothing You Dismay - montparnasse, read by Hananobira - 19k, 2hrs, M, Sirius/Remus "There are a few things Sirius really didn't count on for Christmas of 1979. The extreme sexual confusion is one of them; Remus Lupin is approximately seventy-eight of the rest." There’s a full-on, sensory vividness to the imagery and descriptions in montparnasse's writing, and LISTENING to those words makes the experience even more immersive.

Splendid Night - Katie Forsythe, read by heuristicdevice - 14k, 1hr 30min, M, Holmes/Watson "A Christmasy spin on MILV with a heart-warming dose of H/W." So much miscommunication! I love this fic so hard, and I ESPECIALLY love the podfic. Heuristic Device’s rendering of “now, please,” in a Certain Scene is both quiet and full of feeling, while other sections of the story are infused with audible humor, excitement, and heartbreak, each as they’re called for.

Stately Homes of Wiltshire - waspabi, read by @lazulus - 57k, 6hrs, E, Harry/Draco "Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case." Fair warning that listening to this podfic whilst walking my dog led to funny looks from strangers, because it caused me to laugh at loud for no apparent reason.

A Brand of Gold - aquabelacqua, read by @lockedinjohnlock-podfics | Lockedinjohnlock – 12k, 2hrs, M, John/Sherlock “What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting.” This fic is just plain beautiful, and the pod is one of my favorite performances by Lockedinjohnlock.

Points - lifeonmars, read by Lockedinjohnlock - 54k, 7 hrs, E, John/Sherlock "What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other." Picture it: yours truly, driving alone and terrified through darkness, rain, and heavy traffic…and yet unwilling to turn off this podfic. THAT’S how deep lifeonmars and Lockedinjohnlock took me into this story.

Midnight Plowboy - weeesi, read by Lockedinjohnlock - 5k, 44min, E, John/Sherlock “'Does it feel like I’m sure?' John whispers into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock swallows again." In which John discovers Sherlock's collection of vintage gay erotica. *imagine several fire emojis here*

Half a Dozen Dances - CeruleanDarkangelis, read by Lockedinjohnlock - 19k, 2.4 hrs, E, John/Sherlock "'Seriously? You? You're going to be a stripper?' John tried to keep the amused incredulity off his face. Judging by the disgruntled look Sherlock gave him, he was not entirely successful in this endeavor.'" Typically, stripper fics are just Not My Thing, but the use of music in this podfic sold me.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea - DiscordantWords, read by Lockedinjohnlock - 40k, 5hrs, M, John/Sherlock "Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown." The way the author & podficcer capture Sherlock's voice in this fic feels SO TRUE: his shattered hubris, his desperate resistance to vulnerability, and the believable way he and John finally get through it all.

Senza Catene - Mad_Lori, read by @oncomingtragedy - 6k, 1hr, T, John/Sherlock "Sherlock has a secret hobby. One night John follows him to find out what his flat mate is up to and gets the surprise of his life." The one where Sherlock sings opera--cracky but oh-so-enjoyable. The podfic performance includes several musical interludes.

All Life is Yours to Miss - Saras_Girl, read by originally reads - 114k, 11 hrs 20 min, M, Harry/Draco "Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go." Another one I might have missed (due to personal impatience) if not for the miracle of podfic! The pod is well-performed, and the slower listening process makes the resolution feel even more satisfying.

The Price We Pay for Wings - Frayach, read by @raitala - 13k, 80min, M, Harry/Draco "Scorpius Draconis Eltanin Malfoy read the first book in the Alford Ocamy series over Christmas hols when he was eleven. Well, he didn’t so much “read” it as he devoured it." I've recced this a million times before, and I'll keep reccing it because I CRIED ACTUAL LITERAL TEARS LISTENING TO THIS. 10/10 would be devastated by again.

i don't wanna give you up (i don't wanna let you love somebody else but me) - notcaycepollard, read by @revolutionaryjo - 3k, 20min, E, Erin/Jillian "Erin Gilbert is not the second or even the fifth straight girl Jillian’s ever fallen for, and it’s kind of getting to be a problem, except when she sees Dr Erin Gilbert, she thinks, maybe, this woman might be a statistical outlier." Closely observed, funny, hot, and the narrative voice is p e r f e c t (both in the text and in the podfic performance).

The Temporal Tornado - novembersmith, read by RevolutionaryJo and Lunate8 - 3k, 37min, G, Carlos/Cecil "A temporal tornado reduced our most beloved scientist, Carlos, into a darling little toddler version of his already darling self, didn’t it? Yes it did, oh yes it did! Plus, a jellyfish migration is underway, a mysterious series of unexplained crevasses are appearing in the streets of Night Vale, and valuable advice is provided on the care and feeding of children." Audio is the only logical format for a Night Vale fic like this one :)

Common Woodbrown - imochan, read by RevolutionaryJo - 36k, 3hrs 40 min, M, Remus/Sirius "'Look well into thyself; there is a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look there.' In 1985, Remus Lupin realizes that Sirius Black is innocent. Now, he just has to prove it." Both author and podficcer create a sensitive rendering of the angst, fragility, and determination of Remus Lupin.

Sentiment to Paper - mistyzeo, read by RickyPulsifer - 7k, 57min, E, Holmes/Watson "No fewer than three times by the winter of 1883 had I heard Sherlock Holmes disparage the ways of lovers and their irrational tendencies toward writing letters. With this often and loudly-expressed opinion in mind, I was very surprised indeed to find a stack of unsent, unsealed letters in a drawer in his desk." RickyPulsifer’s podfic is a quiet wonder of smooth pacing, emotive delivery, and thoughtful production.

Splendid Creature - mistyzeo, read by RickyPulsifer and the_dragongirl - 2k, 20min, E, Holmes/Watson "Holmes has tired himself out on a case and wants to go straight to sleep. After an orgasm or two. Watson is more than happy to help." A sleepy, steamy PWP featuring a transmasculine Holmes, read by two podficcers whose voices work together beautifully.

Cold Snap - MirithGriffin, read by verityburns - 5k, 34min, E, John/Sherlock “The Mayo Clinic prescription for hypothermia is this: Tea. Blanket fort. Sex. All right, it doesn’t come right out and say that on the website. But Sherlock can read between the lines.” Verity Burns' delivery nails both the snark and the sweetness of this fic.

First Night Out - verityburns, read by the author - 3k, 22min, M, John/Sherlock “As John recovers from the effects of a brutal kidnapping, he and Sherlock attend the Yarders’ Christmas Party. There are… developments on the dance floor…” I loved this fic for YEARS before I listened to the podfic and realized that the audio version–read by the author herself–makes it exponentially more charming and more intimate.

Further fic recs | Fic bookmarks

#fic recs #podfic #johnlock #brotzly #drarry #destiel #wolfstar #acd holmes fic #bbc sherlock fic #dghda fic #hp fic #ghostbusters fic #merlin fic #femslash #supernatural fic #night vale fic #my recs

128 notes · View notes

nightingaledarling · 7 years

Text

FIC: The Rules Don’t Apply

Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad Party Timeline/Continuity: Canon divergence Pairing: Maeda Toshiie/MC (unnamed) Genre: fluff Word Count: ~1900 Rating: PG Notes: I love Inuchiyo, but there’s only so much MC’s father/scar angst that I can take. So have some fluff, featuring MC who is a little TMI but means well. A million thanks to pseudofaux for looking over this mess for me. <3

“So you and me - us - like this is kind of... strange.”

---

“Saba for sale! Freshly caught this morning!”

“Get your veggies here! Just picked ‘em today!”

The street is loud and busy, filled with eager vendors and patrons scouring the stalls for the best deals. Never a quiet moment. It’s something I’ve always loved about the capital - the people, the noise, the smells, the rush.

My hometown has so much to offer, so I had hoped that once we reached Kyoto, our surroundings would serve as a distraction. But it’s no use - all I have to do is look down at my right hand, glance up in front of me a little… and my breath is stolen from my throat once again.

As if he knows he’s being watched, Inuchiyo looks back at me, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I bite my lip. “It’s just…” Strange, I finish silently, looking again at our joined hands. His is so much larger. It practically swallows mine whole. I really haven’t gotten used to it. But it’s not a bad thing at all. I feel cherished. Protected.

He looks down at our hands and flushes, then averts his eyes. “We don’t have to… if you don’t want to.” He starts to pull away. I panic, squeezing his fingers hard and slapping my other hand on top of his wrist to keep him from going anywhere. He blinks at me, wide-eyed, and I startle, having shocked myself with what I’ve done.

A long moment passes, and I slowly let the hand on his wrist fall away. “...Sorry.”

Inuchiyo shakes his head at me. “That’s nothing to apologize for, dummy,” he mutters, turning away, but I can still see the blush high on his cheeks. He squeezes my hand, and my heart skips a beat.

Stupid. It’s just Inuchiyo, what are you getting all nervous for?

Hey, it’s exactly because it’s Inuchiyo, a different part of my brain adds helpfully. I grew up with him, after all. I dressed his wounds when he got into fights with the neighborhood kids. I watched him stumble around and awkwardly grow into his limbs. I was there to laugh as his voice began to crack and change.

In turn, when I confessed my feelings to the boy across the street, only to be laughed at, Inuchiyo was the one who dried my tears. He’d also given that boy a black eye two days later, even while insisting that the jerk had just “walked into a door.” And Inuchiyo was the one to bring me warmed water pouches for my monthly cramps when Mom was too busy manning the restaurant.

And to think, at the time I considered Inuchiyo a kind of brother figure. It’s all a little embarrassing remembering this now and knowing that he had feelings for me even back then.

But I think about everything that’s happened in these past few months. I remember the ache, the longing for him when he wasn’t by my side. I gaze again at the strong tendons in his wrist as his hand envelops mine, all the way up his sleeve to the shifting of strong muscles in his back, the hard angle of his jaw and - I swallow, shaking off my blush.

You’re getting carried away again, self. Point is, Inuchiyo. Absolutely no fraternal feelings toward him anymore, whatsoever.

“Chiyo!” A short, older man calls out with a friendly grin. I recognize him as one of the merchants who’s been a long-time customer at our restaurant. His eyes fall on me. “And the lovely lady of the Absolute Victory Bowl herself!”

Inuchiyo raises his free hand in greeting, matching the merchant’s smile enthusiastically. “Hey, Ojisan! Long time no see.”

“No kidding! I thought it was a joke when I heard that you went off to serve the Oda clan, but here you are in the flesh. You’ve made quite a name for yourself.” The man nods approvingly. It’s then that he notices Inuchiyo holding my hand. He drops the cloth bag he’s holding, and the produce spills everywhere. For a split second, I think that his eyes might bug out of his head. “Whoa - since when?! You two finally shacked up?”

Inuchiyo drops my hand like it’s on fire, his face turning a violent shade of red. “N-No! Who would want to - ”

Wow, Inuchiyo. Really? You’d better not finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you. I narrow my eyes at him, and he shuts up immediately, as if he can feel me glaring at him. Then he shuffles his feet, kicking up dust with his sandals, and speaks. “We haven’t yet - ”

“It’s kind of a new - ” I start at the same time, and we glance at each other, stopping still.

The merchant takes pity on us and smiles kindly. He takes both of our hands and brings them together once again. “Ah, young love. I remember it well. Hubris will do you no favors. Swallow your pride, and take care of each other.” He cocks his head to the side, and the smile grows. “Then again, you always have, haven’t you?”

He takes his hands away, leaving just my fingers and Inuchiyo’s interlaced, and bows respectfully.

For a moment, everything becomes very muffled and distant. His words echo inside my mind, and it’s all I can focus on. I barely notice the man picking up his things and walking away.

I forcibly take a breath to bring myself back, then I turn and step in front of Inuchiyo, bringing our hands up between us. Knowing that his touch will ground me, I graze his knuckles with the pads of my fingers, turning his palm over, tracing the rough callouses right under his finger joints. With another breath in, I look up at him expectantly.

He looks away sheepishly, and for a moment I can see the little boy who got scolded for stealing all the ohagi from the order line-up at our restaurant all those years ago.

“...I didn’t mean that,” he mutters.

“We barely know Ojisan. If you reacted that way to him, I’m kind of nervous to find out how you’re going to break the news to my mom and Yahiko,” I answer with a wry smile. “‘Hey, I’d really like to start courting your daughter, but in a completely brotherly way.’”

“I haven’t thought of you as a sister in a long time,” Inuchiyo frowns, pulling my hand to rest over the strip of skin left exposed by his collar. His heart thunders, like hoofbeats, beneath my palm. “You feel that?”

I swallow and nod, staring at his collarbone. My own blood rushes in my ears. “Yes. You like me. So - ”

“No,” he shakes his head, crushing my hand closer. “‘Like’ isn’t even close to describing what I feel for you. It’s just that for the longest time, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t supposed to feel that way. For the longest time, no one thought of us like that. So you and me - us - like this, is kind of…”

“Strange,” I finish, echoing my earlier thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods, with an odd little half-smile. “Like maybe we should be doing something different. Or something more. I don’t know, this just feels a little… off?”

“But wrong?” I ask, fearing the worst.

“Not wrong,” he assures me quickly, grasping my shoulders. “Never wrong.”

I sigh in relief. So it wasn’t shame or second-guessing our relationship that had him reacting that way. It was the same uncertainty that I’ve been experiencing. Knowing that’s yet another thing that we share - makes my heart swell with fondness for him.

“Alright,” I nod, meeting his eyes.

His shoulders are still tense, and his gaze darts across my face, as if he can’t read my expression. “Alright?”

I step closer to him and settle the flat of my palm against his heart. “Alright,” I repeat, then I bite my lip as I think about what I want to say next. “Listen. This is kind of weird for me, too. I mean, it’s not every day that you decide to be with the boy who helped you through your monthly periods when you were growing up.”

Inuchiyo chuckles, gathering me close, seemingly ignoring that we’re still out in public, and the gesture makes my insides flutter.

I add, “But more than that, it’s not every day that you decide to be with your best friend. There’s no awkward getting-to-know-you phase with us. We can skip that because we’ve already got that covered.”

“Kind of comes with the territory of knowing each other for more than ten years,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up! You’re interrupting.” I smile up at him. “What I’m getting at is - there’s no rulebook for this. Neither of us know what we’re doing. And honestly, who says that we need to do anything different in the first place?”

Inuchiyo looks troubled again, and I push away slightly, as if I can get some clue as to what he’s thinking by putting a bit of distance between us. “But you...” He sighs heavily. “You’ve always wanted romance, the lovey-dovey stuff, ever since you were little. We both know I’m not capable of that.”

Gods. He looks so vulnerable, so unsure. I wrap my arms around his middle and dot a kiss on his jaw. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. Looking out for me for almost my entire life? Knowing me better than I know myself? That sounds pretty romantic to me.”

His eyes start to look hopeful again, and he squeezes me tighter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nod, gazing fondly at him. A long, quiet moment passes between us before I continue. “This - us - will take some getting used to. But we can figure it out together. Day by day, alright? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Do we?” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my brow, and my breath stutters.

“Yeah.” I look up at him again, ensuring eye contact for what I’m about to say next. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. But he needs to hear this. “I… I chose you, Inuchiyo. You are the one I love. And unless you decide you don’t want me anymore - ”

“Like hell,” he interrupts indignantly, and I hide a smile.

“ - we’ve got time to figure this out.”

That flush that I adore so much floods his cheeks again, and his earlier burst of irritation melts away. Now he looks almost shy. I hesitate only a moment before reaching up on tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips. He’s surprised and shock-still for just a second before he begins responding to me, opening his mouth and claiming my tongue with his. I can taste his devotion and love on his lips, and I make sure he can taste mine as well.

Because at the end of the day, even though it took me a while to realize it… Inuchiyo has always been and will always be my only one.

So yes, we’ve definitely got time.

“Alright?” I whisper against his mouth, when our kiss has reached its natural end.

His eyes are loving, his mouth gentle as he quietly answers, “Alright.”

#samurai love ballad party #slbp #maeda toshiie #slbp toshiie #inuchiyo #slbp inuchiyo #slbp fic #slbp fanfic #slbp fanfiction

87 notes · View notes

juniper-and-lamplight · 7 years

Text