#and then it was work trying to kill me Again with an unprecedented Second Busy Season in my work area during the holidays | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serowotonin · 4 years ago

Text

falling ; bakugou k.

pairing ( bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ) wordcount ( 2.4k ) genre ( fluff & basically pining )

↷ a hc-styled narrative describing the four stages bakugou katsuki goes through as he finds himself falling for you . . .

STAGE I ( impression ) ;

the first time bakugou laid eyes on you was during the entrance exam at UA.

back then, you were just another face in the crowd of faces he was going to have to beat to earn his spot in UA

the first time bakugou spoke to you wasn’t memorable to him either

like with everyone else, he was loud and rude and made it very clear he wasn’t interested in playing friends

after that you became a part of the class, just another extra, someone who’d just get in the way

that was all he thought you were…

until you kicked todoroki’s ass one day during training

the teachers had paired everyone in the class and told you to practice your 1-on-1 combat skills using your quirk

bakugou, who was paired with kirishima went first

you and todoroki were to be the last pair

despite a good effort put up by kirishima, bakugou still ended up winning that round

when it was finally yours and todoroki’s turn, bakugou paid extra attention

in his mind, he knew todoroki was powerful and someone to watch out for

but what happened was quite unexpected

you maneuvered easily through todoroki’s attacks with a combination of physical prowess and creative usage of your quirk

let’s just say his ice didn’t work on you and he was caught off guard, allowing you to snatch a win

needless to say, most of your classmates were a bit surprised at first

bakugou included

they knew you were strong but they didn’t know you were that skilled

whatever the rest of the class thought didn’t matter to bakugou though

all he knew was that now he had to keep an eye on you

STAGE II ( perspective ) ;

after that event, bakugou did indeed keep his eye on you

it started off with him observing your moves whenever the class had to do any training exercises

he saw you fight with todoroki a couple more times after that

those didn’t end in easy victory for you as it did before because todoroki was now more wary of you

however, the way you evaded and countered his attacks was something to be praised

in bakugou’s subconscious opinion at least

your moves were carefully thought out and bakugou could see that

he could see the effort and practice you had put into perfecting them

not only that, he could also see the natural talent that you had to be able to become this strong

and it wasn’t only your fighting capabilities

you were also smart

maybe he hadn’t noticed it before but he did now

you seemed to always know the answer when a teacher called on you and your grades were great

slowly, but surely, you gained respect in his eyes

if he knew one thing about you, it was that you were maybe the tiniest bit better than the other extras

for a while it stayed like this, him acknowledging you but never making it obvious and you just doing your thing

that was of course until one day in the morning before class started

mina, kirishima, and sero were talking about things as they usually were and somehow the conversation led to you

they were talking about how strong and smart you were and going on about stuff

bakugou must’ve turned his head in their direction or something but mina noticed him listening so asked him cheekily what he thought of you

“y/n? of course they’re strong. anyone could see that.”

he said that pretty loudly and didn’t seem to notice you walking into the classroom

and of course you heard

“did my ears deceive or did the bakugou katsuki just praise me?” you teased

he was pretty embarrassed, blushing and sweating a bit but trying to hide it

soon after though, class started and the ordeal was forgotten

but something about that interaction led to you and bakugou becoming closer

closer in that instead of passing the other off as another strong classmate as you usually would, you’d actually greet each other and talk

you’d say hello to him in the mornings and goodbye after school and he’d just grunt or nod your way

but this was what it meant to be close to bakugou anyway

during the weeks that passed, bakugou found himself noticing you even more

before he only paid attention to your skills and thought about you as an enemy or rival of sorts

now it seems as if he’s just noticing the little things about you and your personality that make you who you were

he wasn’t doing it on purpose god forbid

no no it was just him being unknowingly observant

weeks turned into months and months turned into years

in a blink of an eye, you were all well in your second year

with everything that happened, you and bakugou became close

close enough for you to tease him at random times and close enough for him to ask you to fight him as training

by then it was safe to say bakugou knew you

he knew the little quirks you had

he knew your different smiles, your different laughs

he knew your favorite foods and your not so favorite ones

he knew the many different little things that made you you

STAGE III ( contradiction ) ;

before the start of the third year, the class decided to have a little get-together party of sorts

to celebrate the start of their last year in high school and to catch up as everyone’s been busy with internships and whatnot

you spent the break away from tokyo so it’s been a while since you saw the rest of the class

naturally you were excited to be able to meet them all casually again before the intense studying and training that awaited you all

bakugou, on the other hand, wasn’t too excited

frankly, he could do without seeing the class before school

but when he heard you were going to be there, he also agreed to go

so there you two were with the rest of the class at a cinema buying drinks and popcorn before your movie started

the neon lights and the prospect of popcorn lit up your face and bakugou couldn’t help but stare

there was just something, something he couldn’t quite figure out

it’s not that you were beautiful, it’s not that you looked cute in that outfit, it’s not that your smile was making his heart flutter

no it wasnt any of that true though they may be

you just.. you looked nice

thats why he was staring

yeah he hasn’t seen you in a while and you come back looking *nice*

of course he would stare

anyone would

apparently you had noticed him staring though, so you sent a wink and a grin his way before turning back to the popcorn and drinks

in other words, you killed him

with ridiculously high levels of cute and nice

kirishima and sero were just watching the whole thing happen and hell was it obvious to them

their boi was falling hard

now they knew he’d never admit it and they knew you weren’t likely to do anything about his “crush” even if it was obvious to you too

so…

while bakugou was busy helping you carry your popcorn, they devised a rather devious plan

operation: jelly burst

objective? none other than to make explody boiy jealous

for what reason? no reason really it’s just fun to mess with him and this is probably the first time he’s had this big a crush

once everyone finished buying popcorn and was walking into the cinema, operation: jelly burst was put into action

“hey y/n ! come sit next to me” — sero

so you did, nothing strange bout that, sero was a good of yours anyway, nothing strange at all

bakugou moved to come sit next to you too but kiri hurried past him and sat down on your other side before he could

“oh hey bakubro didn’t see ya there sorry”

the seat kirishima stole was the last seat on the aisle

and bakugou was forced to go sit somewhere else

alone

poor guy</3

the seat he found was a few rows above yours though and all went according to the jelly burst plan

by the end of the movie, bakugou was in the foulest mood and no one, except for the 2 lads sitting on either side of y/n, knew why

operation: jelly burst didnt end there though

see they got him jelly but they haven’t gotten him to burst

the next week at school, kirishima and sero both acted really nice to you

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but they did talk to you just a tad bit more than usual

either way bakugou noticed big time and he did not like it

he did not like it one bit

the jelly was there alright

it was just boiling to unprecedented levels

pretty soon, the boys dumped the idea of operation: jelly burst

mainly cos it was taking too long

but also because bakugou had become at least 10x more hostile

except to you of course

for some reason, a reason absolutely no one could figure out(sarcasm intended), he was just

quiet around you

didnt yell but didnt really talk to you either

whenever anyone else, kiri and sero especially, tried to talk to him though, he’d shout louder and be a lot ruder to them

he’s just agitated

and he knew why he was that way

he’s just in denial about it

he’s also in denial about the reason why

why couldn’t he just accept his feelings and act on it already?

kirishima asked him that one day in the dorms

he saw bakugou staring very intensely straight at you without blinking for a full minute

“look man, don’t even try to tell me you don’t like y/n. it’s obvious and i’m not an idiot. you aren’t either.”

“i know shitty hair. it’s just… i’m me. and she’s y/n. nothing’s ever gonna happen.”

“you don’t know that”

“but i do. cmon, she’s just so fucking perfect even with all her flaws. and i’m just the loud guy with exploding hands and no emotions.”

kiri was surprised honestly

this wouldn’t be the first time bakugou was insecure around him but the way bakugou talked about you and how he implied he wasn’t worthy

damn that hit kirishima

“bakubro, i’m gonna help you”

STAGE IV ( intimacy ) ;

ever since he told kirishima abt what’s been bothering him about you and ever since kirishima declared he’d help, bakugou became more…

quiet

he was still loud, but he just became a soft kind of loud now(?)

it was like he got calmer and he was assured that things would be okay

of course things were not okay

why? because ever since bakugou fully accepted his feelings for you, he doesnt know how to act around you

the other day you asked him what he wanted to eat for dinner cause you were cooking tonight

his answer:

“you”

“umm..”

“-you can make anything you want. i’ll eat whatever.”

that and a lot of other little awkward incidents started occurring

also maybe it was just the weather but he always seemed red whenever you saw him

it wasn’t the weather though

it was him being shy and nervous and flustered

which made bakusquad extremely weirded out cause seeing him like that is like seeing aizawa cheerfully smiling and wearing bright color clothes

it was weird af and was just not right

anyway, mina’s advice to him was to try to get closer to you

“but we’re already close”

“no i mean closer on a personal level. ask her how her day was or ask her random stuff about her likes and dislikes or her hobbies or literally anything”

“oh… ok then”

and so he tried that

he tried getting closer to you by greeting you every morning and sometimes asking you if you slept well

you found it odd

it certainly was odd, but you didn’t mind

if you ask him why he asks about your sleep he just goes red and says he needs to make sure his opponent for his afternoon sparring session is well-rested and healthy

speaking of the sparring sessions…

he asks you to spar more often than usual and actually makes small talk during your breaks

he was also a lot nicer to you, offering to help carry stuff for you and assisting you in the little things

like getting a mug from the kitchen’s high shelves or picking up the pencil you accidentally dropped

what he did worked though and within a few weeks, the two of you got a lot closer

the next step, as mina put it, was “making sure she knew you weren’t interested in her as a friend”

now that was hard for bakugou to do

“it’s not that hard. you could just tell her.”

bakugou: ..??

“basically confess”

bakugou: wha- *shortcircuits*

CONFESSING

he never thought about that

he actually has

he knew in his mind he’d have to do it eventually if he wanted to have you

but he didn’t think it would be *this soon*

“dont think that much and just tell her you like her”

“you’re making it sound easy”

“because it is!”

he groaned internally

he’s faced tons of villains and been in quite the number of fearful situations but the fear he felt now was completely different

“look if you’re afraid of rejection just confess like this”

*sero clears throat*

“*y/n i like you and i would like to be something more than friends. i’m not going to pressure you into anything so if yoh don’t want to we can just pretend this never happened>:)”

“...”

bakugou ended up confessing the next day though

just not like that

it was a spur of a moment thing and he wasn’t really aware he said it until you responded

the two of you were sparring as usual and you had just gotten close enough to knock him down and pin him to the ground

in that moment you were just so beautiful and amazing and everything and he just couldn’t keep it in apparently

“i like you”

“w-what?”

“what?”

“did you just say you liked me?”

“like not liked dumbass”

“:o present tense o:”

well long story short, you like him too and you tell him that and you two just sit there grinning like idiots

from then on things didn’t change much

you and bakugou still talked, although maybe more than usual

and still sparred with each other, although maybe less seriously and more playfully

some were surprised when it became known you were together

some weren’t

whatever other people thought though, they couldn’t deny one thing:

bakugou looked at you as if you were the world

STAGE ∞︎ ( fallen ) .

note ; i started writing this soo long ago but then abandoned it cuz thats just me:”] bUT i decided that since its his birthday i might as well finish it up and finally post it u.u,,, also TYSM @animebsposts for helping me with this ily and ur amazing<3

taglist ; ( send ask to be added ! ) @lilikags

#happy birthday ya big cute bomb boy<3 #bakugou x reader #bnha #www.pink-ink.com/writing #/hcs

294 notes · View notes

fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years ago

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 10 - Clean This Up

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who is he really?, 2.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: abuse, mild violence

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Alex had said to check the diner, so Victoria opted to have dinner there and asked to see the owner. She was aware of the vigilante-style work she was doing, but with everything else going on in her life, this couldn’t possibly hurt any worse. Folding her hands, she breathed calmly as she peeked at the menu. It was important not to act as authoritative as she usually did, she reminded herself. A portly man with short gray hair and a mustache came over and took the seat across from her.

“Hi there,” the man said, shaking Victoria’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, I’m Victoria Molina,” she introduced herself. “I was actually trying to find someone and I was told you could help me.”

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, alright. Who are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for a young man of about seventeen, he goes by Willie? I was told he works here. I just have some questions for him. Would he happen to be in at all today?”

“We don’t have anyone named Willie here anymore,” the man told her. “I actually just bought this establishment along with the hotel about two weeks ago and a few of the staff followed the previous owner to a different business. You might want to talk to him instead.”

“Oh,” Victoria sat back in slight disappointment. “I take it you’re not Caleb Covington?”

“No, he’s the guy I bought it from. I’m Frank Wolfe. I can give you his contact information, though.”

Nodding, she smiled politely.

“I would appreciate that. Sorry I had to come bother you, though.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I apologize that I can’t be any more useful. If you like, I can take your order.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll actually have the carne asada.”

“Perfect,” he smiled as he took her menu away. “I’ll have that information for you in just a minute, too.”

Taking a gulp of water, Victoria sighed. It certainly felt just like any regular case. The fact the business had recently changed hands made her want to be suspicious, but she fought to remain level-headed. It was enough that she was going off the word of a teenage boy and an old poster. If it was a dud, if this trip led nowhere, she would buy Carlos a gift and head home safe and sound.

After finishing her meal, she returned to her hotel room and pulled out the business card Frank Wolfe had given her. Something about the dark purple design and the old-fashioned lettering he’d chosen made her feel like Caleb Covington was at least a little pretentious, if not flashy about his business. Picking up the phone and dialing the number, she held her breath waiting for an answer.

“Caleb Covington, who may I be speaking to?” a baritone voice chimed on the other end. The touch of sing-song in his tone was unexpected.

“Hi, my name is Victoria,” she introduced herself for the second time that night. “I was told you were the guardian of a young man named Willie?”

“Are you with social services?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?”

“I usually only get a call when we have a hearing scheduled, but our last one was just a couple months ago.” His tone had gone from happy to serious at such a jarring speed it took Victoria a moment to process his words.

“No,” she said finally. “No, I’m not with them. I didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m actually reaching out on a personal favor. See another young man I know says they met a while back.”

“Oh, is it the band that came through a few weeks ago?” Caleb immediately picked the cheer back up.

“Yes, I’m glad you remember,” she responded, surprised.

“How are those boys doing?”

“Oh, they’re just fine. I think they’re gonna be a success.”

“Good to hear it,” he said. “Listen, no harm done. I own a swanky little club just in the south of town. I would be delighted if you gave me a visit, and I’d be happy to chat.”

“Sounds great, thank you,” Victoria smiled, unable to believe how easy that felt. “I can stop by tomorrow evening.”

“Wonderful. If it isn’t too much, I’ll make you a reservation.”

“Well, I can’t say no to such generosity!” It had been a long time since Victoria had gone on a night out. This was a much needed vacation, and if it killed two birds with one stone, all the better. She said goodbye and decided since she was practically getting everything she needed at the club, the rest of the day would be spent treating herself for once.

Willie skateboarded up the driveway and only just remembered Caleb’s rule about the pool in time to hop off before pulling off his helmet and going around the back. He took the back route into the house and dropped a number of grocery bags on the counter. One of these days he would age out of the foster system and not spend the morning being Caleb’s errand boy, but for now he just laid Caleb’s credit card on the table and went outside toward his shed.

Opening the door, he saw Caleb standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all of his drawings. Paper covered most of the walls now. Faces with no names to them, locations with no map to their destination - only snippets of a past life. Willie couldn’t stop drawing them. There still weren’t many memories returning to him, but any detail was an important one. He hadn’t drawn this much in ages, since before he found Sheldon. The backwards dream had become a recurring one by now, and there was still very little that he understood about it. Still, he had so many scenes made out of it that he could almost recreate the dream in a very rough animation.

“Hi C-Caleb,” Willie stammered. This never happened. It made him immediately nervous.

“What a collection, William,” Caleb said, not exactly sounding like an awed patron in a museum. “I mean, the sheer volume of work that went into these is absolutely mind-blowing.”

A small pebble of pride rose in Willie’s chest.

“Really?.... Um, thank you.” He couldn’t suppress his smile.

Caleb held up a hand and looked down at his well-manicured nails, and then back up.

“I just don’t understand why I look so hostile in this one,” he said, pointing to the picture in question. “And that one. And all of these in this corner.” His gaze returned to Willie with unprecedented menace.

Willie immediately shrank away, his mouth gaping open.

“Well...I..they’re from a dream.”

“A dream?” Caleb repeated, not liking what he was hearing.

“Yeah, I think it was a memory.”

Willie watched the man straighten his posture, a calculating expression on his face.

“Are these all memories?” Caleb asked after a tense moment, casting his eyes about the room.

“I think so,” Willie said hesitantly.

Caleb lifted a hand and grabbed the bottom of one. It was the first one WIllie had done of his dad sitting inside the truck and smiling at him.

“Hm,” was all that he said for a second.

And then he tore it in half.

Willie made toward the picture in alarm, feeling a part of him inside being torn just the same, but was stopped as Caleb held a hand out.

“Ah ah,” he said. “What have I told you about becoming your own person regardless of the past?” He took a handful of another drawing and ripped that one too.

Ignoring what Caleb said, Willie lunged forward to try stopping him anyway. Caleb was faster, grabbing his shirt and tossing him backward into the wall. He couldn’t help but begin crying.

“But these are my memories, why would you - ” he sputtered, lost for words.

“Because, William,” Caleb continued loudly, pulling as many as he could off the wall and shredding them into smaller pieces. “Your history? The one full of loss and being shuffled here and there? That is all that awaits you. You know it’s the truth; that’s how you ended up here. I offer you the opportunity to become a new person, and I can’t allow you to spoil yourself with reminders. And besides, those little friends you not-so-secretly made a few weeks ago have started snooping around in my business, and I can’t have that.”

He didn’t even pick anything up, he just left paper strewn all over the floor and walked all over it. As he made for the last wall, Willie made one more attempt to overpower him. He leapt onto Caleb’s shoulders and tried to pull him back with all his weight. A fist landed in his eye and he slacked his grip. Caleb wrestled him onto the bed and held him down, a crazed look in his eye that Willie swore he’d never seen no matter how familiar it felt.

“I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it? Why can’t I have friends?”

“I’m doing this for your own good,” Caleb hissed at him. “You” - he reached up and touched the scar on Willie’s head with his finger - “You got a reboot and you know how many people are lucky enough for that? You should thank me. Unfortunately, you can’t have friends when they send someone asking me questions about that little past of yours. That’s just asking for trouble.”

All Willie could do was hold his eye and lay back as Caleb tore up the last of the drawings. Once he finished, Caleb patted himself off and made his way out the door.

“Clean this up,” he told Willie. “And don’t bother doing any more art.”

As the door shut behind him, Willie scrambled onto the floor to search for just one of the drawings. Shuffling through smudged pieces of paper, he saw a few tears drop onto his ruined work. Eventually, he held the picture of his father in two pieces in his hands. Sobbing, he tried to hold them together evenly, but Caleb’s work had made that hard to do. His only hope was to try drawing it again, but he was already terrified of what Caleb’s reaction to that would be if his first one had been this.

A piece of another drawing caught Willie’s eye from underneath. He recognized Caleb’s snarling face from the dream and was surprised at how well it captured what he’d just witnessed. His mind went back to the way he knew the look in Caleb’s eyes. Suddenly, the awful realization dawned on him: he finally understood the dream.

Victoria walked into the club that evening, glad she had taken the time to look and feel fresh. This place was clearly up to snuff and then some. A live band played with dancers scattered throughout, all in bright, sparkly, feathery getup. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair was mesmerizing the crowd as he sang, keeping the energy high. As she was led to a table, Victoria simply sat and watched, greatly impressed with the talent.

Once the man’s solo finished, he bowed, gestured at the band to play on without him, and exited the stage. To Victoria’s surprise, he took the seat directly across from her.

“Ms. Victoria, you look so lovely, how are we this evening?” he asked with a charming smile. “I’m Caleb Covington.”

“Are you kidding me?” she started. “That was you up there? You’re a man of many talents; I’m already dazzled.”

“Oh, well, I hope that remains a constant while you’re here,” he said. "But you came to ask me about some other things, what were they?”

“Yes, I had some questions about Willie.”

Willie sat outside the bodega, unwilling to move for a while. He felt like everything inside of him was empty, as if Caleb had possessed claws and dug everything out until he was left hollow. The many ideas that had risen in his mind in the past few hours were all too much, all at once. If he dared, was he sure he could handle everything that might come his way? Every time he’d heard that ridiculous speech about starting over, becoming his own, yada-yada, he hadn’t considered any of the options he was now contemplating.

He’d already done some things. Already bought some things. Now he got up to collect Sheldon and held him tightly as he nodded to Escobar, who saluted him back. The man had said he didn’t want a dramatic thank you. Stuffing the items he purchased in his bag, he kept a hold of Sheldon as he skated off into the darkness.

“So, you see, Willie isn’t missing. He was abandoned,” Caleb was saying to Victoria. “Poor thing has struggled to adjust. I’ve dealt with some handfuls in the past, but I really have been doing the most for him, and he’s been with me for more than three years. I think it’s really sweet of those boys to raise a concern, and I hate to be a dead end, but that’s the truth of it.”

Victoria sat, nodding in acceptance.

“That makes a lot of sense, Mr. Covington, thank you for providing that for me.”

“Oh, call me Caleb. We’re all friends in here.”

“Okay, then, Caleb,” she corrected. “What got you into foster care?”

He put a hand over his heart and a fond look came over him.

“The youth are just full of so much magic, and I hate to see that their parents have chosen to lay it to waste. I’m the one who takes some of the tougher cases so I can bring out the best in them. You see that young man over there, Dante?” Caleb pointed at one of the dancers. “Classic rebel when he was young. You wouldn’t even know, he’s turned into such a gentleman. There’s a few more here and there in the club. I call them my graduates.”

“Well, I will tell you,” Victoria said. “When I first talked to you on the phone I wasn’t expecting you to be so generous. But now I can see that it’s just how you are.”

Caleb shot her a playful smile.

“Victoria, no need to butter me up. I do have some tight business practices to keep up.”

Fluid poured over every inch of the shed. Willie had made sure it was more than enough to get things going. He’d made sure to get the essentials: food for himself and Sheldon, a few changes of clothes, and a stash of money he’d taken from the safe in Caleb’s bedroom. The man shouldn’t have given him the combination in the first place.

Stepping out of the shed he looked at it one last time. What a sad, lousy existence. Living to perform for this man who shut him up inside this little thing and he had actually called it home? The further he was into his plan, the bolder he began to feel. He remembered when he had missed getting into the Pearl and that feeling of wrongness that had made him so frustrated. This feeling he had right now? It was so right. It was so right it drowned out anything scary about this whole idea.

He looked back at where he had put Sheldon on a small leash and tied him along the fence around Caleb’s backyard. It was definitely a safe distance. Then Willie pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, lit one, and looked at the flame for a minute. He held it just over the threshold of the doorway so it would land inside. It was so weak, like he had been ever since his accident. But he knew it was going to become so powerful, and he desperately hoped that he could retain some of that power for himself.

“Clean this up, Caleb,” he said, and he let his fingers go.

Victoria had stayed just a little longer to enjoy more food and music before standing up and heading toward the door. Caleb saw her on her way out and made her stop for a moment.

“It’s been a lovely night, and I’m grateful for everything you told me,” she said to him.

“Well I’m glad you took the opportunity to see what I have here,” he replied. “If you’re ever in the city again, please stop by. We’re always partying and putting on the best show.”

“Oh, I most certainly will,” she said, smiling as she made her way outside.

Someone tapped on Caleb’s shoulder from behind. Wordlessly, he turned to see who it was and why it was important.

“Sir,” one of his servers said. “You have a phone call. It’s the fire department.”

“What?” Caleb spat as he went to pick it up.

Willie sped along on his board the best that he could with Sheldon in his arms. He carefully made it down the ramp onto the freeway, controlling his speed as well as he could. He could picture Caleb now, just getting back to his home, eyes wide as he came upon the blaze. It was a very strange feeling, but right now Willie chose to focus on his newfound freedom. The cost wasn’t the matter right now. Freedom was all that was going to take him and his cat as far as they could go. The destination for now was Los Angeles.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #aunt victoria #caleb covington #tw abuse #tw mild violence #viva las vegas #clean this up #fiddlepickdouglas

22 notes · View notes

r0zez-in-bl00m · 4 years ago

Text

~ 𝓒𝓻𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 ~

Looking more like a boy

🍎 Epel x fem!reader (fluff) WORD COUNT : : 1.5k

Description- Epel loves his beloved very much, even though they look more manly than him. But what happens when he tries to become more manly himself?

Epel loved (y/n) more than anything he ever had loved before, not only him but his lover knew that too. The whole Pomefiore dorm did, Vil was very happy to see them together though he would comment on one flaw every time this topic was brought up in his presence.

Only one thing's wrong in their wild relationship, is the perplexity of finding out which one of them is a boy or a girl. God, (y/n) always had to assure him that not to get so overboard on these pathetic matters, but that guy wouldn't have it. Epel gets so angry when someone confuses him with a girl while he's somewhat embarrassed that his girlfriend was so strongly built.

Even Mr. Vargas sometimes gave an example of her to teach the students to build muscles, Vargas rarely compliments someone else other than his egocentric self on the concept of muscles. But (y/n) begs to differ on that matter. "Mr. Vargas is more female following, I guess."

Insecurity is highly available in the love market. Epel dragged, literally dragged, away (y/n) when some delinquent/ jock randomly flipped his arm on her during Magift practice. Be prepared for a long lecture in a very cute voice by the little apple, pun intended. Expecting a change in accent when he started talking was crucial.

"Why?! Out of all people . . ." "Ain't I enough for ya?! You don't like me because I ain't muscular?"

Then there were coddling moments, (y/n) crushed Epel into a hug," God, my idiot boyfriend . . . if I liked muscular guys would I go out with you in the first place?"

The girl teased him a lot though for his switch in accent. "You sound like a little lion sometimes. . . Kingscholar would be jealous." The apple boy blushed a lot with (y/n) whispering in his ear or touching his face.

To match her girlfriend in every way Epel tries a little too much than expected.

One day while experimenting in the laboratory along with Jack Howl for their assessment Epel was multi-tasking with another book hidden under his desk and reading the book which was based on magical pharmaceuticals for the second-year level.

By chance, Jack spotted the book and scolded him for cheating. Immediately Epel got a switch in his persona and was bomb-barding over the 192cm wolf with his southern comments while spilling his beans at the moment.

"You're trying to make a potion that will make you more muscular?" Jack muttered in disbelief, he couldn't fathom at first that why would a cute Pomefiore require such a potion in the first place.

Epel, being Epel, switched to his regular façade in an instant and was stammering like mad as a hatter. "Oh, !-! I-it's just . . . so t-that I can look a b-bit . . . more masculine... f-for her." It wasn't hidden from anyone that (y/n) (l/n) and Epel were dating but Jack never expected him to go this far to read and understand a high-level medicine book. Jack merely scratched his head, confused about what to say next, "I think Vil-Senpai once told me that taking a body development potion can cause a lot of strain to the body as well as the mind. . ." Epel had his head down, pressed against the desk, "I know that! It's just it's kinda weird that (y/n) looks more like a man than me."

Feeling like a good puppy that Jack is he decided to help Epel with the potion considering that it was of vast complexity (and we know that our Tsundere puppy would never admit that he is doing this by heart lol).

All afternoon Jack and Epel spent their time researching and putting all sorts of herbs and potions into the cauldron. "Epel, focus closely on how the color changes. We don't want to create trouble for ourselves." Jack instructed while putting another herb as designated in the book. Epel nodded," Understood."

Slowly the color started to fade into a vicious color of red, thick and rich. Jack and Epel both peered down to take a closer look. As the book said it would be welcoming at first glance yet the trick of the potion was to figure out which part was truthful. It hadn't yet been figured out that when was it best to consume the potion. Many theories were concocted for its usage; 'drink it when it turns out a bit bluish', 'it'll smell like rotten eggs at first,' 'don't drink if it's still milk-white,' such and such.

"How will we figure out that the potion is drinkable yet-"Jack said, he turned his head only to be at the verge of losing it. Epel was already gorging on the drink, the liquid falling on the floor at each gulp. "E-Epel?! What are you d-doing?" But by then it was already too late.

The potion was all gone and all was left was to see if their hard work bore any fruit. Laughter broke out a minute later. "Jack!! I can feel the power surging in me . . . . God, it's amazing!" Jack was baffled, then knowing that everything was alright smirked a little at their success. But then something struck him, Isn't potion supposed to make him taller? Then why is he shrinking...

His realization was as late as ever. A poof of purple smoke surrounded Epel and within the blink of an eye . . . vóila! The apple had turned into a cat; A pretty cute one to be exact.

His eyes were big with their same blue irises and were staring adoringly/in confusion at Jack. "Meow?" Jack took it as 'what the hell happened?' As much as he wanted to lecture Epel the Cat, he couldn't. Stan cuteness.

Jack cursed the time he decided to be a good puppy and help Epel out, now he was in big trouble than anyone could anticipate. The terrifying image of (y/n) wrathful face started to haunt him, he was sure that Epel had the same thoughts. With swift arms Epel was under Jack's protection, they both headed towards the hall of mirrors to the Pomefiore dorm.

But but but . . . the goddess of fate had taken a little vacation. In their hurried state they were spotted by the person they both least wanted to see right now.

"Hey, Jack!!!"

"Goddamn it!!" Jack muttered angrily, this couldn't have been the worst time to be killed right now. (y/n) approached him at an unprecedented speed Jack could've reciprocated. He was done for. "What up bro—oh who's this?" (y/n) gazed at Epel with the same affection she would give him when he, you know, is not busy as a cat.

The girl patted the cat's head, "Is this your pet, Jack?" (y/n) asked. His face flushed red at that question alone, so did Epel's, but in this case, it was his snout. "Uh . . . no . . . (y/n). It's not my pet. . ." Jack stammered, and hard. That day was no good for him. "It's not yours? Then maybe Ruggie's? I've seen him quite getting along with Lucius," the never-ending string of cat-related questions continued with Jack stammering like a fool and Epel losing his shit.

Finally, in anger, he leaped in (y/n)'s arms. The girl was taken back a bit but materialized because of Epel's soft purring. "It's strange. . . Epel does the same when he's having a rough time. Burying his face in my arms then falling asleep," (y/n) laughed. "Which reminds me . . . have you seen him anywhere?"

Be prepared to see a dying Jack any minute.

A guy, then, approached the group in a hurry, "(y/n)! Vice prez of Octavinelle is looking for you."

While being dragged away (y/n) called out to tell her if he gets to know anything about Epel do let her know. God bless the anonymous dude who unintentionally saved Jack Howl from being slaughtered. Epel looked relieved too, that and a little triumphant purr.

Then their venture towards Pomefiore continued. Upon reaching everyone in that glittering dorm showered Epel the Cat with love which was already less required but was, later on, were saved by Vil Schoenheit.

Jack ushered Vil into a corner with Epel still secured in his arms and narrated the story from top to bottom.

"YOU WHAT?!" Nobody could understand why their simply composed dorm leader lost his cool all of a sudden.

Vil already made plans to clear out his afternoon to lecture Jack and Epel thoroughly tomorrow for causing this blunder, but Epel Felmier had to be saved. That night Jack again spent his entire time looking through the potions book with Vil brewing the antidote. Never in his life, Jack went through so much Alchemy and he swore that whatever happened next he wouldn't touch a single Alchemy book (unless it's a test then we can't sue the wolf).

But one thing was final that he was going to do something lurid to Epel as soon as he gets back to normal, or he isn't Savnnaclaw.

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

#ツイステッドワンダーランド #twisted wonderland #twst epel #epel felmier #pomefiore #jack howl #vil schoenheit #twst fluff #disney #cruel to be kind #twst first years #female reader #twst imagines #twst oneshot

41 notes · View notes

jeeperso · 3 years ago

Text

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 5

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Lets see, gonna make Jonni Deathlock six, gonna make the cleric a Huecuva, the Dragonborn a skeleton warrior, make a wight with the gnome.... I don't think I can make an undead with the big guy but pretty sure Hazlik wants him personally." Gorebash is offended. "I beat the shit out of the witch-slaying sentient hammer that was trying to gank you and all I merit is a Skeleton Warrior! That hurts Nima. I expect CR3 or better or I'm taking my corpse business elsewhere." "I'm not powerful enough to make you a death knight, Sorry." Jonni: "Wow, Hazzy, you need better minions. We should kill her." OOC: Point is, if you can make liches or Death knights, Hazlik's already killed you and written his name over your grad thesis.

Jonni: "NOPE! No fey queens. Not after last time! Well… maybe just a few times…"

“Hey, I need to ask for some magic stuff, but also I need an outfit for a royal dinner. Something that says, I’m an ostentatious adventurer visitor to your lands, but also that I plan to spending this dinner in the cloak room with one or more of the serving maids.”

As it is most gauche to appear before a darklord with a warpick sized hole in the middle of one's chest.

"... This place has made green things seem ominous to me."

"A giant beanstalk, this is the most unique wizard's tower I've ever seen."

On that note you also notice behind the Beanstalk is what seems like a huge lagoon of bubbling green ooze. Edmund leans to the side to get a good look... Several zombies are working tossing corpses into it, as the corpses hit the ooze they dissolve into it. Edmund leans back to get a less good look before knocking.

"Since he hopefully can't hear us, Your boss is kind of a self absorbed egomaniac... if he didn't have so power I'm sure someone would have thrown a brick at him by now." “I know where we can find bricks.” "Supply of Bricks is not the issue, Jonni." “Everyone says that until the revolt starts. Pays to be prepared.”

“That explains it. You’re about the research, your boss is about applied power of dickery.”

“I hung around a magic school once to let the grad students study me for their thesis.”

“Oh, good fascist wizards. Why can’t we kill him again?” "Phenomenal cosmic power."

"Oh crud, the ooze someone merged some of the corpses together and brought them back to life as a new being. At least that is my wild guess as to what happened here." Willow blinks. "Um, this is unprecedented." “Nah, but usually you need lighting and some grave robbing.”

"I mean I grew a toe out of corn." Willow says, "Its not that far fetched."

"You think, therefore you are. Freedom is your right." “Weird, that magic red self driving wagon I met once said something similar.”

"The Elder Brain will deal with you eventually. You will never escape it." “Clan chief told me that the day I stole his mammoth after he found me with his daughter. Pretty sure that loser is still freezing his tiny grimbas off on fuck-stick mountain.”

at supper, to Mama: "I am forbidden from your kitchen for good reason, but I may require your assistance with my culinary dark arts for the feast." Mama gives you a dirty look. "Who are you trying to kill?" "Not kill, on purpose anyway, just a severe enough food coma."

"Yes, I already reminded the others we can't fake our deaths again." "Yeah that only works so often," Sergei says. Edmund lost a perfectly good watch that day.

OOC: THE FUCKING LENG FOLK HAVE UFOS! MOTHER-FUCKERS!

"Plus we owe you for sending the Sullivans our way. That was a well paying job." "Yeah, except I got those fleas on me and hallucinated I was a pawn broker sign. That was a weird afternoon."

As side effect of the dark cookery, Marshal's armor is well-oiled throughout the day, though Mama insists he be kept away from Jonni or pregnant women.

...you can see ominous black clouds of smoke coming from the wagon all that day. The rats and roaches circling it with anticipation. With the occasional black speech of "Double it." Mama comes rushing out after a bit, holding a rag on her face. "That.. is very ominous." “We’re gonna have to cast this back into the fires of its creation eventually.” "Marshal may serve the gods, but when he cooks he's channeling Asmodeus himself." OOC: The meal must be cast into the deep fryers of Mount McDoom. Only there can it be unmade.

Marshal's player: *rolls natural 20 on cooking check* GM: Congradulations, it's edible. Marshal: "It...is done..." "By all that is holy..." The chocolate is so dark, light cannot escape it’s surface. 50 pounds of butter per square inch. OOC: It occurs to me this is basically a more fucked up retelling of Snow White.

“Gor, going with plan C cup. You know what I like if he starts thinking he’s cute by offering choices of rewards.” "Try not to do anything that requires a rescue."

Marshall is clearly trying to spontaneously multiclass into psionics the way he's trying to vaporize Hazlik with his stare.

"I will draw." Hazlik smiles, places the cards before you, then steps the hell back. Jonni pat Edmunds shoulder and shakes his hand. “It’s been okay knowing you. You were one of the least dickish dudes I ever met. And part of a select few I didn’t want to punch in the balls.”

“You will. Briefly. That’s a promise from Jonathana, She Who Makes Torches of Men. Daughter of Eloise Wolf Slayer, outcast of the Mammoth Tribe, and consort of the 37th Princess of Fuck Mountain.“

OOC: Nima is someone we can actively reach to strangle to death. Dark lords are a bit out of choking range.

OOC: But.... and this is important: Will Edmund ever get pants? OOC: Strahd will consider it.

OOC: Like this is the dark powers going "He looked at me crossways, PUT HIM N THE HOLE."

OOC: If Ravenloft is a jail/prison, this is the equivalent of getting thrown in solitary confinement. OOC: Without pants.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

10 notes · View notes

grokebaby · 4 years ago

Text

[PREVIOUS WRITING]

"Deirdre! Why'd you call me here?! I've suddenly gotten alot busier.. " Grandefel hissed, hurriedly landing on the discolored purgatory grounds. She straightened her tail from the clumsier-than-usual fall, and made eye contact with the demon. The uncharacteristic anxiety in Deirdre's eyes set a cold weight in her chest, making her drop the Persecutor face instantly. "You said it was urgent..?"

"Yeah.. Sorry. I don't know if this can wait.." She said, going silent for a uncomfortable amount of time. It made the weight in Grandefel's chest heavier.

"Well?"

Deirdre leaned in, resting her forehead on Grandefel's. She seemed tired. The angel allowed the small moment of support to go on for as long as Deirdre wanted, despite both her responsibilities and curiosity burning in the back of her mind.

She flinched in surprise as a heavy aura engulfed the scene. They quickly retreated from each other's embrace to face the high angel landing right beside them

"FOUL DEMON. YOU WILL SERVE ME AS I; A HIGH JUDGEMENT REQUIRE YOUR FAVOR."

Ngah announced. Her landing left a golden dent in the grey dirt. She turned her face to Grandefel, gaining an expression of disgust. It made the persecutor's fur stand on edge, feeling the divine gaze prong her insides. "Wait, why are you here? If you had business with demons you could've-"

"WHAT; DESCENDED THERE MYSELF? I AM INSULTED AT YOUR SUGGESTION, SEEING HOW ONE OF OUR OWN; ZZZ WAS TREATED THERE. YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO ASK QUESTIONS NOW. I CAME HERE FOLLOWING YOUR TRAIL. DESPITE YOUR CLAIMS YOU SEEM TO FREQUENT THIS PLACE, YOU UNCHASTE LITTLE; - "

"Yeah yeah shut up, what did you want from me?" Deirdre interrupted, really not in the mood for this today. Grandefel winced at her language, but didn't feel like nagging after the word vomit she was just given.

Ngah's eye shifted back to the demon, radiating hatred. "YOU WILL ESCORT ME TO YOUR HIGH JUDGEMENT; I MUST TALK TO THEM. THIS IS NOT A REQUEST."

Deirdre sighed, rolling both sets of eyes. "Yup, sure, right this way.." deciding to try and save face at the court later. She lifted her head, tail gracing Grandefel's cheek as a signal to follow. Ngah's ginormous hand grappled her lower half harshly, the heat of her skin making Deirdre sweat. Triggering a fight or flight response, the demon lept away, leaving rugburn all over her long hips, splitting the ends of her long hair.

"wHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Deirdre screeched, feeling violated. Grandefel was about to echo the statement but was silenced by an electrifying stare from Ngah, telling her it was not okay for her to be in this situation. Her large reflective wings shined threateningly, forcing Grandefel to an extremely begrudging bow. She took her paws off the ground, signaling she was leaving. Furious as she was, the situation shouldn't be escalated any more than this.

After a quick crawl, and an eye catching march through hells Hall, Deirdre and Ngah were both at the court room. Deirdre, sizzling from frustration, signaled to somewhere higher up behind her throne. An extra room came into view. The court was swiftly emptied and extra walls appeared, as if a curtain was drawn between it and the rest of hell. Three monolithic thrones placed right next to each other came into view, holding three nearly as monolithic demons in them. Delilah, Xerxes and Hart. Delilah, seated in the middle, brought her heavy horned head out from the shadows, setting all eyes on the people present. "Deirdre. Ngah." she addressed them, allowing them to start with whatever was the reason they were here.

Deirdre visibly leaned away from the high angel, letting them hear it from her first.

"HIGH JUDGEMENT OF HELL. I AM DISSAPOINTED IN YOU."

The blunt statement sent a ripple through the court, making the two other high demons pay closer attention to their guest now. As if being awoken from some work induced numbness, Xerxes directed his large eye onto Ngah, seeming offended. Hart unraveled their grip of the throne, readying themself to hear the angel. "Strong starter", Delilah muttered under her breath. Ngah explained:

"APPROXIMATELY A DAY AGO THE ANGEL; ZZZ DESCENDED TO HELL WITH NEUTRAL INTENTIONS. EXACTLY 12 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES LATER; THEY RESORTED TO AN EMERGENCY CALL DUE TO THE VIOLENT INJURIES INFLICTED UPON THEM BY; WHO I PRESUME WOULD BE YOUR CURRENT PUNISHERS."

"But you're not here to talk to our punishers I assume." Delilah retorted. Ngah continued

"EXACTLY. I DEMAND; AN EXPLANATION, A FORMAL APOLOGY, AND RETRIBUTION"

Ngah laid an evil eye on Deirdre, making her shudder. Partially because she didn't expect to be called out like this, and partially because if looks could kill...

Hart spun their head on the right way, all eyes also landing on Deirdre. "Let us start with the explanation. I take it that this is about responsibility, which would land on Deirdre in this case. Go on." They said, passing the turn to speak to the persecutor

Delilah nodded. Her lowest pair of eyes lingered on Deirdre's hips and the painfully glowing burns on them, but she decided not to comment on it right now.

Deirdre exhaled heavily, trying not to glare at Ngah too bad. "Thank you. To recap; ZZZ indeed landed in hell. First offence, they blatantly disregarded the authority of both gatekeepers - One of which is an Angel, as you're probably aware." she paused, looking over everyone. "Since they're not a high angel, especially not part of the High Judgement - as far as I'm aware, they should've had a very good reason for being here. Second offence; they didn't." she was pleased to sense an air of agreement among the high demons. Contrary to Ngah, glowing with frustration.

"They entered the judgement hall, and while I didn't have a trial going on at the time, it was very unprecedented nonetheless. Now, you know that I'm patient, so I indulged them in case it was something important. Third offence; it wasn't. They proceeded to make very undignified remarks about me, angering my court, and.. Well.. " she trailed off, sensing that the last part of the story was going to be the hardest to paint in a neutral light.

Ngah gritted her teeth. "AND YOU SAT AND WATCHED YOUR COURT ATTEMPT TO SLAUGHTER THEM? BEFORE YOUR EYES?"

Deirdre shifted uncomfortably, taking a deep breath. "I.. Would've stepped in, had it become too much." she forced out, not entirely confident in her statement.

"UNTRUE; ZZZ HAD TO RESORT TO A DISTRESS CALL" Ngah spat out with growing rage

"And the situation was resolved! Or is ZZZ Dead?!"

Xerxes intervened, clearly having very little patience for Ngah to begin with. He stood up higher, hoof scratching the floor.

"IF THEY WERE; YOU WOULD PAY FOR THEIR LIFE" The angel bellowed, her words sending a heatwave through the court.

Delilah firmly stood up from her throne, letting her staff slam the floor like a gavel. "Silence! Ngah. We understand your distress, but you cannot put out fire with fire. Threats towards our safety will not be tolerated. You will receive a formal apology from our Persecutor if you so wish, but it was fully within her right to let her court act in place of her." she lectured, eyes shining threateningly.

The two ladies exchanged fierce eye contact for what felt like painfully long. Wrath was boiling behind Ngah's plastic smile.

"I AM CALLING A HIGH COURT MEETING BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL. IT WILL HAPPEN; IMMINENTLY. I WILL NOT LET; MYSELF BE CAST ASIDE LIKE THIS."

Hart twirled themself in a twist out of both anxiety for the coming case, and excitement to see the upstairs once again. Xerxes puffed out a huge smoke cloud, mentally preparing to argue. Delilah simply nodded.

"Give us an hour."

#Eldritch angel #My writings #Morsos stories #Lore #Ask to tag #Woohoo things are escalating *laughs naughtily*

15 notes · View notes

beautifultypewriter · 5 years ago

Text

Everyone Has Their Price ~ Daenerys Targaryen

Requested: Yes / by @saegerphoenix (It’s very annoying when tumblr won’t let me tag people)

Warnings: Dungeons, attempted killing, actual killing (nothing graphic), fight scene, weapons, mentions of blood, injured reader

Word Count: 1,878 (I’m so sorry)

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x fem!assassin!reader

Summary: The reader is tasked with a very important mission. Unfortunately, that mission is not completed as Reader gets caught before it can be carried out.

A/N: The original plan was to take this further, but once I finished writing it, I thought that any more would have ruined what I had, so here we are. Also it got way longer than I had originally planned it to be.

It was said to be a difficult job. The target was established and powerful. She had guards surrounding her at all times and the most fearless army known to Essos. They told you it would be difficult, but they clearly didn’t know you. You never lost. You wouldn’t lose now. Not with the gold that had been promised for a confirmed kill. The trip to Meereen had been a long one, but it only served to push you more. You felt invigorated when the ship you had stowed away on landed in port and you felt invincible when you managed to slip onto land and away from prying eyes. Your next step was to observe the castle; to try to get a good idea of how things worked there and when would be the best time for you to engage the target.

It had been surprisingly easy to infiltrate the castle, posing as a kitchen servant. After spending a few days learning every passageway in the castle and learning the routine of your target, you were ready. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, this was not going to be an easy assignment, but you were most certainly capable of completing it. You smirked to yourself. You were probably the only person in Essos who was capable of completing this mission. The universe knows that many others before you have tried and failed. You wouldn’t fail.

When night had fallen and the activity levels in the castle had died down, you decided to make your move. You had brought a single dagger with you, knowing that anything else would have been too conspicuous. Clutching the blade in your hand, you moved quickly and quietly within the shadows, straight to where you knew the target would be sleeping. You encountered a patrol only once, deciding that your best bet was to press yourself against the wall and let them pass without noticing your figure, your dark clothing helping you hide. When the coast was clear, you took off again, gliding down the last corridor before stopping across the hall from a large door where two guards were posted. Pushing yourself further into the shadows, you observed the obstacle, deciding that you should take out the one on the right first. When the other guard turned to look down the hall, you jumped from your hiding spot, grabbing the guard closest to you and sliding your dagger across his throat. He fell to the ground at your feet, alerting the other guard to your presence. He turned, but before he could draw his sword, your knife was in his stomach. He fell next to his friend as you pulled your blade back to your side and turned to the door. You knew there’d be two more guards on the inside, so you had to be ready. Letting out a breath, you readied your blade and pushed the door open. Without giving the first guard any chance, you slashed and jabbed his torso, jumping back as the second advanced on you. He swung his sword at your head causing you to duck down. You swung your leg out to kick his feet out from under him. The guard fell onto his back and you were quick to take advantage of his prone position, lunging forward and shoving your knife into his neck.

As you stood up, you wiped the bloody dagger on your pants before moving forward, towards the raised platform where the target was sure to be. Unfortunately, as you neared her, you were faced with something you had not expected. That something was a man with his sword drawn and pointed at you. A third guard? This was unprecedented. You had only ever seen two go into the room. Your shoulders sagged as you let out a breath, “Seriously?” The man smirked at you as you got into a fighting stance, your dagger held low by your hip. Your free hand was raised above your head and you motioned for him with your fingers.

He advanced, bringing his sword down over your head. You threw your arm up, deflecting his blow with your dagger. Spinning around, you swiped at him, catching his arm with the end of your knife, ripping his shirt and making a small cut in his skin. You jumped onto a bench, watching as he glanced at his injury before swiping his sword at you. You jumped up, the sword passing through the air under your feet, and landed on the floor on his opposite side. You had an open lane and you took it, running straight at the target, your dagger held firmly in your fist. She stepped back and you smirked. Then the man was next to you, throwing his arm out and catching you around the waist. He threw you backwards and you hit the floor hard. Trying to regain your breath, you laid on your back for a second. When you looked up the man was above you, ready to drive his sword into you. Rolling towards him, you slashed at his legs causing him to drop his sword and stagger back. You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards the target again. This time you sidestepped the man’s arm and were able to run up the three steps to finally be face to face with your mission. She stared at you with wide eyes, her silver hair falling over her shoulders as she stepped back. Shame you had to kill her. She was a beauty. You smirked as you raised the dagger, ready to bring it down on her. Right before you could swing, though, you felt something hard collide with the back of your head. You closed your eyes against the pain as you stumbled forward. Readjusting your grip on the knife’s handle, you looked at your feet to see a metal pitcher lying there. Blinking, you looked back at the target to see her eyes flash to the man. He must have thrown the pitcher. It doesn’t matter. You were about to be out of here. You lifted your arm again, but the pain in your head was too much for you and you felt yourself falling. The last thing you felt was your dagger slipping from your hands as the coldness of the bricks numbed your skin.

As your eyes fluttered open, your hand flew to the back of your head. You groaned as you pulled your hand back. It was clean, which was a good sign. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up on the bench you had been laying on. You were surrounded by bars. Fantastic. You chuckled quietly to yourself, shaking your head. “Something funny?” You looked over to the cell door to see your opponent from the previous night glaring at you.

You smirked, “Nice to see you’re still standing.”

He sneered at you, “Oh really?”

You pulled your hair over your shoulder as you laid down again, “We’ve got unfinished business.” You closed your eyes as you propped one leg up on the bench, letting the other hang over the edge. Your hands folded and rested on your stomach, “Think I’ll get a bit more rest first.” He scoffed and you smirked.

A new voice entered the space, “Daario, step back.” Opening one eye, you looked over to see the target standing at you cell door. The man moved back, but you noticed that he stood close. She stared at you and you closed your eye, shifting slightly on the bench, trying to get more comfortable. The target cleared her throat, “I don’t know why you’ve come to kill me and honestly I don’t care. Just know that whatever you think I’ve done-”

Your eyes snapped open as you turned your head, “I was hired to kill you.”

Her face maintained the neutral expression, “By who?” You had to give her some credit here. She was not nearly as frightened and doe eyed as she seemed when you encountered her last night.

You shrugged, “I don’t ask questions. They give me a name, I complete the mission, they give me a bag of gold and I go on my way.” You smirked at her, “It’s nothing personal, sweetheart.”

She scoffed at you, “A sellsword?”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “Not my favorite term, but sure.” Your eyes moved around the cell, checking for weak points, so you could plan your escape.

“I figured as much. No honor. No loyalty-”

You sat up, cutting her off again, “I have loyalty.”

She scoffed, “To who?”

You smirked as you threw your hands out to the side, “Myself, of course.” She glared at you as you flopped back onto the bench, “No one else in this world is looking out for me, so I’ll have to do it myself.” You glanced at her and you noticed her eyes soften and her frown deepen. You shrugged, “Everyone has their price.”

She moved closer to the bars, “And what is yours?”

You chuckled, “More than you can afford.”

The man didn’t seem to care for your conversation, as he stepped towards the cell, pulling his sword halfway out of its sheath, “Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

You sighed, “Some little girl who calls herself a queen?” The man moved forward, a deep frown on his face, but he was pushed back by the target. She glared at you, her eyes full of fire. You quite liked it. You took the time to look over her then. Her silver hair was pulled back in an intricate braid and she wore a crisp gown of white. She looked more like a queen than you had originally thought. You tapped your tongue to the roof of your mouth as you stared at her.

She leveled her voice, “I asked you what your price was.”

“And I told you that it’s more than you can afford.”

She held her head high as she squared her shoulders, “I can offer you a leadership position in my army. You’ll have respect and a place to lay your head. When I sail across the sea, if you help me take back my kingdom, I can offer you titles and a castle.”

You waved your hand, “I’m gonna stop you there. I don’t care about castles, or land, or titles, or respect even. I care about gold and since you have none, I think I’ll keep my other job.”

She shook her head, “You’ve already failed your other job.”

You tapped your foot, “Something you should know about me, your grace, is that I never lose.” You smirked at her quickly before returning your attention to the ceiling.

“You’ve already lost.” She motioned to the room around you, “You’re locked in my dungeon.”

Looking over at her, you grinned, “This game isn’t finished yet. I haven’t lost anything.” You winked at her.

She stepped back, her eyes widening, “My offer still stands.” She looked you over once before she retreated from the dungeon, her guard following close behind her. Sitting up, you watched her go, wondering if she’d add anything else to that deal of hers. You smirked to yourself as you laid down again. Silver might not be so bad.

#daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #game of thrones imagine

212 notes · View notes

mllemaenad · 5 years ago

Note

(Chantry Asker) I don't defend the Chantry because I think is "has to be good", but part of what Dragon Age encourages us to do is consider the difficulty faced by well-intentioned factions. The Inquisition, for example, has problems, becoming vulnerable to infiltration, and depending on how you played the game, may have done worse. It's not easy to help people, but the Chantry TRIES. Many Thedosian groups don't even do that. If not the Chantry, then to whom do the downtrodden and hopeless turn?

But Anonymous person: this is exactly what I mean. Whence comes this desire to treat the Chantry like some kind of beleaguered, underfunded kindergarten teacher?

“She’s trying, okay? She’s trying.”

Do you feel the need to defend Mass Effect’s Cerberus, too? Sometimes an evil organisation is just an evil organisation.

Why on earth do you think the Chantry is ‘trying’? Again: absolutely no one is saying that a particular revered mother (or Chantry brother or sister) may not be a good person who attempts to help people. That’s not in question. But ‘the Chantry’ is a continent-wide political organisation with massive resources and influence. It is led by a divine and by grand clerics, and on the other side by lord and lady Seekers and by knight-commanders of the templars. It has shaped the world. That’s the scale we are working on here.

No one group in history has impacted life in Thedas more than the Chantry. The influence of this church of the Maker prevails across most of the continent’s kingdoms, and the bulk of humanity pays at least lip service to its tenets. Belief in the Maker has started wars and forced those outside the Chantry to the fringes of society.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s a good start.

"The Keepers, Shaperate, Qun, Augers, Seers, and Shamen don't help. Only the Chantry.”

That’s one of the first things you said to me. And it’s so confusing because ... it reads like you really don’t grasp that these people are not in Lothering because, largely, they have been driven to the margins by Orlais and its Chantry. They can’t be there. They would die.

Just as an example – can you imagine what would happen to an augur who set up in some Chantry-dominated village? Started summoning his gods, offering guidance and assistance, suggesting spirit possession to help training young mages? The poor bastard wouldn’t live out the day. But that wouldn’t be his fault. His people aren’t the ones practising religious persecution.

How – how – does that demonstrate the virtue of the Chantry? You can’t give someone points for being the only game in town when they’ve killed all the other players.

The Chantry began and has continued to be a predominantly human organisation. Other races are seen to be further from the Maker. The elves have their false pantheon of idols. The dwarves worship themselves. The Qunari are the worst of all, actively crushing worship of the Maker and desecrating Chantry values in the name of the Qun.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

They have built the racism right into their doctrine, so that’s nice. And the religious persecution. And just ... zero self-awareness in that they hate the Qunari for converting by force when they do the same thing.

But let’s think about your "downtrodden and hopeless”, shall we?

Why is it that most of the elves in Thedas live in abject poverty, and regardless of their skills are effectively barred from bettering their lot? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry invaded their homeland, stole it from them, and forced them to live in slums and convert to the Chantry faith.

But you already know that something went wrong. A small elven raiding party attacked the nearby human village of Red Crossing, an act of anger that prompted the Chantry to retaliate and, with their superior numbers, conquer the Dales.

We were not enslaved as we had been before, but our worship of the ancient gods was now forbidden. We were allowed to live among the humans only as second-class citizens who worshipped their Maker, forgetting once more the scraps of lore we had maintained through the centuries.

– The City Elves

Why is it that most mages are dependant on Chantry run Circles to house, feed and clothe them? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry kidnaps them as children, prevents them from inheriting their family titles and property, and steals their children in turn should they have any.

Chantry law requires those with significant magical ability to join the nearest Circle and live under its supervision. While Thedosians with extremely low levels of magical talent are generally permitted to go about their lives, they are still closely watched. In most nations, practising magic and not joining a Circle is to be branded an apostate and, thus, a danger to society. Those who survive capture are turned over to the Circle to become students or prisoners, depending on the circumstances.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s ... pretty great. It sounds as though you’re suggesting – best case scenario – that the Chantry should get points for setting up a soup kitchen for the homeless, when they were the ones who burned down those people’s houses. And built an ugly mansion on the land.

But that really is a ... best case scenario. It doesn’t really fit with the reality of how the Chantry operates. I mean: the Chantry takeover in Kirkwall was a fucking disaster. Meredith had death squads. I mean – death squads. That whole situation was a dystopian nightmare.

And then there’s whatever the fuck is going on in Tantervale:

Chantry law is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais.

– World of Thedas Volume I

So ... yay for theocracy? And then there’s the clusterfuck in Jader:

The overpopulation and poor living conditions led to an outbreak of disease that nearly crippled the city, followed by famine in the poorer sections when it was quarantined.

Mother Giselle, whose prosperous chantry was in a wealthier quarter, wrote to Val Royeaux asking for assistance from the Chantry. When help was not immediately forthcoming, it is said that she addressed the clerics of her chantry. “As Andraste herself said, ‘My faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,’ then so shall faith sustain the hungry in this time of need,” Giselle told them. “As we have devoted our lives to divine contemplation, such a diet should come to us quite easily.” With that she took the unprecedented step of taking all of her chantry’s food into the poor quarters of Jader, distributing it to peasants who would otherwise have starved to death.

Shocked and shamed by what some in Val Royeaux privately referred to as an ostentatious bullying tactic, Chantry officials coordinated relief efforts. Food arrived quickly, along with instructions on how it was to be distributed: first to the Jader chantry to end the hunger strike, then to the Orlesian peasants, then to the Fereldan refugees, and finally to the elves of the alienages. Mother Giselle famously replied to the orders by saying, “If we believe that some have fallen further from the Maker’s grace than others, then those who have fallen further are in greatest need of our care. We cannot fill their souls until we have filled their bellies.” With the support of Lady Seryl of Jader, who was directing relief efforts of her own, Giselle ignored the directives and fed the poor of the city without regard for race or nationality.

Her actions saved thousands of lives in Jader and made her a beloved figure among the poor in Orlais and Ferelden alike. Those actions also destroyed her chances of any official political advancement in the Chantry, as the grand clerics did not look kindly on being shown up in such a manner.

– World of Thedas Volume II

So, five important points here:

1) Mother Giselle’s actions are ‘unprecedented’. So stepping up like that and forcing the Chantry to give aid in a time of crisis is not actually standard practice.

2) This is a clear example of a person attempting to do good and being stymied by the Chantry hierarchy.

3) The Chantry is, in case anyone forgot, really fucking racist.

4) Ending a famine also ended this woman’s political career, because the Chantry just cannot stop being The Worst.

5) While Giselle is undeniably doing some really awesome stuff here, that bit about not being able to fill people’s souls before filling their bellies indicates that even good people tend to do harm when following Chantry doctrine, because they can’t just ‘do good’. They’re also pushing conversion.

Whenever and wherever the Chantry has real power, they tend to do terrible harm. They do it on such a scale, on such a level of ‘these bloody hands may never be clean again’ awful that ... a few acts of kindness can’t easily redeem them.

To be critical of the Chantry, I don’t need to have another option. I can critique a thing without going further – especially since ‘The Chantry killed everyone else’ is ... pretty much why other people aren’t around to help. But ... it really isn’t as if no one else knows how to do good?

I mean – look at Alistair. Assuming you made him king, he shows up with ships to bring the Fereldan refugees home, and offers aid to rebel mages. He fights with Meredith about it. That aid continues into Inquisition. While the Chantry is busy tearing Kirkwall apart, Alistair is helping. Anders runs a clinic for the poor and dispossessed in the Kirkwall sewers. He’s so damn popular that a mob turns up to defend him. That’s just one man. Most people like him are locked up, so they can’t help. Imagine a thousand clinics run by spirit healers.

Or ... did ... no one listen to Merrill?

Merrill: What does your Chantry do? I mean, you keep saying how great it is. Anders and Isabela tell me to stay away from it. But what does it do? Among the Dalish, the Keepers teach the children, preserve our history, perform magic. The priestesses here just... sing.

Sebastian: The Chantry does many charitable works. It cares for widows and orphans –

Merrill: Who in the Dalish would just be part of the clan, like everyone else. I just don't get it.

...

Bethany: So, there's no Circle among the Dalish?

Merrill: Any child with the gift of magic is apprenticed to a Keeper... in another clan if there's no need in her own.

Bethany: That sounds nice.

Merrill: Magic is a gift of the Creators. Why wouldn't we use it? It just seems... wasteful for humans to lock their mages away where they can't do any good.

– Merrill Dialogue

The Dalish would regard ‘charity’ as a communal duty, and magic as a tool to help people. She’s not wildly impressed by the Chantry, which is not doing enough good of any kind for her to notice. Merrill lives in one of the poorest parts of the city. So. Maybe her way might be worth a try?

Individuals can do good. Organisations can do good. These things are not in question. But the Chantry is – and I say this again – an imperial religion. Its primary function is to serve the Orlesian empire, which is racist, power hungry and deeply religiously intolerant. Empires are bad news.

I’ve seen the examples you’ve given. They exist. Some of them are real instances of a Chantry official, or a small, local chantry, doing a Good Thing. But I have to ask ...

Can you really look at a set of scales that has ‘genocide’ on one side and ‘helped out a single mum that one time’ on the other and say “Sure, that balances”?

#dragon age #chantry critical #Anonymous

154 notes · View notes

pandemicparamedic · 5 years ago

Text

#COVID19

I’ve been trying to put into words for a little bit now how I feel about being a frontline healthcare worker during this whole COVID-19 crisis. My feelings on the matter are mixed, but there are a few points I’d really like to make to drive home regarding what it is that, at least I, am facing everyday. Let me preface this by saying that I am a newly hired paramedic working for two really busy metropolitan services. In a 12 hour shift, I average 7-9 calls during ‘normal’ times. Often times, I work OT, pushing my shifts to 13-14 hours daily. Every call I wonder what I’m going to be going into. Sometimes it’s a nice old lady who just needs a check up for her blood pressure; other times I’m running head first into a multiple gunshot, multiple patient scenario and people’s lives are immediately affected by the care I render. Now we have this looming fear of #COVID19. I want to impress upon you that COVID19, while new, is not unlike other diseases that we, as healthcare workers, already need to be cautious of. We have patients with MRSA, VRE, C Diff, tuberculosis, pneumonia, HIV, etc, all of which are communicable that we need to wear appropriate protection for. What’s scary about COVID19 is not the fact that it’s a disease, but the fact that it’s a disease that we know very little about. It presents in so many different ways and we are still trying so hard to understand how the disease is transmitted and how it affects us. It’s our inability to know if we are prepared or not that scares me. Our protocols update so often regarding our protection and how we run our calls. The minimum PPE changes all the time. The availability of stock, what we wear, how we wear it, when we wear, and how we reverse isolate our patients changes all the time. We change our course of treatment - asthmatics now get IM epinephrine only, be cautious when you ventilate someone, don’t suction someone unless you’re wearing the appropriate PPE, what’s the appropriate PPE? All of this is stuff that is constantly evolving in the course of our care, day-to-day, and sometimes hour to hour. I’m scared for my family. I’m scared that I might bring COVID19 home to the people I love. I’m scared because I may not have donned the right PPE, or that someone may have lied to me during the screening process, or I forgot to wash my hands while doffing. I’m scared because I may be asymptomatic and bring it home to my mom, my brother, or my girlfriend. I’m scared of passing it along to the little old lady at the grocery store, or to the barista who’s trying to manage her student loans during this ‘unprecedented’ crisis. I’m frustrated. “Essential workers” are being heralded as ‘heroes.’ People are donating food and PPE, they’re buying us coffee, they’re standing in the streets and applauding us and standing on their balconies clanging their pots and pans in appreciation. In one breath, they thank us, and in the next, they tell us they don’t care. People tell us they don’t care by going out and getting their coffees, or by going to the beach to sun bath, or spread blankets in parks and have beers with their friends. We ‘heroes’ are asking you to do one thing. STAY. HOME. Don’t martyr us to make yourselves feel better about having a beer in a park. Your thank yous are empty because your actions show that you don’t appreciate the work that we are doing to keep you safe. I’m frustrated because what we are doing hasn’t changed. We have always responded to the dangerous unknowns. We have always taken care of other people. We will hold your grandmother’s hand while she dies. We will try desperately to save your little brother as he clings desperately to life just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We will work tirelessly to make sure you have a second chance after making a poor decision that we know you immediately regretted. That’s what we do. But it’s taken a global pandemic to realize just how thin we are being stretched and how unappreciated we are. I’m sad because this pandemic has started to expose people for what they are. Selfish. Short-sighted. Uncaring. People would rather go to the park, get laid, get a coffee, drink a beer, send their kids to school, visit their friends, and party than stay home. I understand. It’s frustrating staying inside all day. I don’t enjoy bouncing between work and home. I can’t go out. I can’t vent my frustrations about my day by doing the things I would normally do. I would love nothing more than to go to the gym, roll on the BJJ mats, or rock climb again. I would love to sit at a coffee shop with my girlfriend and just hold hands and talk about whatever dumb shit we think about. But I can’t. Because this disease is new and it’s dangerous. Because, while it may not kill me, it could kill someone I love. It could kill the very people that I go into work every day to try and save. So please, stay home. Wear a mask. Listen to what the experts are saying. Because this disease is very real. In the last month, I have fought my hardest and lost 24 people to COVID19. I have had to look spouses, children, parents, and friends in the eye and tell them that their loved one is dead or might die. And that’s just me. My brothers and sisters in healthcare and first response see hundreds everyday. And you can’t be bothered to try and home school your kids or sit home and watch Netflix. Stay. Home.

4 notes · View notes

lockdownuk · 4 years ago

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 3

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 61: Writing this in the afternoon on day 62. An exercise driven day. Two walks and stair climb as usual plus I popped round Jeff’s early evening. First time I’ve been to his house, 1 Garden Row, Elmington. It’s further than I thought so, with walking there an back, I managed a daily total of 14km. It was good to see him and have a social (but social-distanced) beer. When I got home, @9:45pm, I made thai green chicken curry, watch The Report (a great, if worrying film) and then TikTok-ed until gone 5am!

Day 62: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Missed Sam’s quiz.

Day 63: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Again! Well, it is bank holiday Monday! Had dirty pizza for tea and watched The Heat. Again! It is the most piss funny film.

Day 64: Well, I have been feeling guilty about treatung the bank holiday w/e l;ike a bank holiday w/e. It’s dawned on me that that guilt is way too self-disiciplned. I got up about midday, usual two walks and stair climb but that’s it. I need to clean the house from top to bottom, get on top of my online courses, get the garden done, get the car fixed, go shopping…fucking hell - if only I had the time…

Day 65: Today I swapped Amazon prime free trial for about the 5th time in my life. Same card and address - will they get wind of my skullduggery. This is all so I can finish watching Hunters and catch Homecoming S2. I went shopping at Asda near Raunds. I wish I hadn’t, it’s no good for a comprehensive shop. Received an email from RCI inviting me to a Zoom meeting with Pal Mulcahy for a business update. I fear the worst. And it’s at 10:00am, FFS!

Day 66: Logged in an attended zoom forum with Paul Mulcahy and over 250 RCI staff this morning. The message was that there is going to be redundancies. I expected this and expected to fall victim. All staff that are going to be put through cionsultation would be contacted today. I however wasn’t! Very, very surpised. meanwhile, Nick Reilly asked to connect via LinkedIn (including become a LinkedIn staff team member - that’s new to me so I’ll see what it is but I accepted the invitation) Later, I WhatsApp-ed him and asked who has been affected from IT. All he could tell me was no one on Jon Rodger’s team is under threat. Also, Mark C emailed - I’ll respond tomorrow. I got up at 09:00ish and had my mornming walk before the 10:00am meeting. I am now, at 09:30pm, fucking knackered. Dinner and then bed, methinks but not before one more episdoe of Hunters!

Day 67: Typing on Day 68. Got pretty drunk last night. I’ve got blisters from walking (new boots) so I don’t think I’ll walk tomorrow (well, today!).

Day 68: I did fuck all today. Got up after 1pm, no walking. I did manage to clean the bathroom (and smash my little mirror) and do my 26 stair climb. I am typing at 9pm and I feel whacked!

Day 69: I have an abscess. It’s not too painful (today) but I am going to call the dentist tomorrow (Monday). I think antibiotics are in order. I watched a film, which I actually started yesterday, called The Voices starring Ryan Reynolds, Gemma Arteton and Anna Kendrick. Fuuuuuuuuuuuucking weird. The closing credits are the most bizarre, in context, I’ve ever seen. But, in general, a very good film. Back to normal exercise regime today plus hovered the hall and stairs. Get me. It’ll be interetingh to see my Google Fit figures for May tomorrow.

Day 70: Contacted the dentist who advised salt water rinsing and ibuprofen. But, tbf, it’s a lot better today and the swelling has gone right down. The dentist I called was the Oundle House (Rodericks) one. I was not hopeful since last time I saw them they referred me to their Northampton clinic for root canal work which was quoted at over £600. However, the dentist was very nice, had my x-ray to hand from that last visit and seemed more interested in making sure I’m OK than gaining a paying customer. He still wants to see me when possible though! I must mention the weather. It has been glorious weather nearly every day throughout May (it’s June 1st today). Seriously sunny and like a holiday every day. The news mentioned it today - the level of sunshine throughout the transition from spring to summer is unprecedented, apparently. My T shirt tan is, quite frankly, ridiculous!

Day 71: Today’s ‘must mention’ is what’s going on in the US and it’s not particularly related to Trump. There was a black man killed while under arrest. George Floyd died Monday 25th May (8 days ago) A policeman, who knelt on his neck for minutes while he complained of not being able to breathe, has been charged with murder. Now there are riots and curfews and military intervention all over the country. It’s similar to the English riots of 2011. It’s worrying, sad, scary and not what the fight against the pandemic needs. Most of all, it’s racism rearing its ugly head yet again. I’ve had a normal-ish day. received an email from Jim checking in, talked to a recruiter about a promising job lead (although the hours are 8-5 which I am not happy about), talked to Barry across the road and sent Barzzy a WhatsApp. And I logged in Shaw Academy and started lesson one of module 2 of web Design. It’s been a while, so long overdue, but I only did about 15 minutes. Must try harder / do better! As I type, late (10:10pm) I have dinner cooking and a strange pain in my left side and am in the middle of No Country for Old Men. Don’t think I’ve seen it since the cinema (13 years!)

Day 72: As soon as (well, within a couple of days) I mention the weather, it turns. It’s rained a little and is a lot cooler (15° rather than mid-20s). Much better for walking, I have to say. I finished Hunters today (Amazon Prime series). While I enjoyed it, it got too surreal at the end. It is loosely based on the real story of Nazi hunters in the US in 1977 but the straying from loosely based to down-right ridiculous fiction annoyed me. If it goes to S2, I will watch it, however. Received some of my rental deposit back today (the law changed so that only 5 weeks rent can be demanded as deposit). Over £600. Nice.

Day 73: I made a short video for Marc and Clare’s 26th wedding anniversary. I ‘dressed up’ for it. I enjoyed doing it and I think it was appreciated.

Day 74: Typing on Day 75 for no other reason than I couldn’t be bothered on day 74! I received a letter either today or the day before (well, yesterday or the previous day!) from Mr Minos at the eye clinic informing me that, while there is some stuff going on in both eyes (garnered from the photo scans done at the last hospital appointment), he wants to see me in three months. Always a refief when that happens. Been getting into two series on Amazon: Alex Rider and Modern Love. One is a male Hanna, the other is soppy affairs of the heart based on real life stories (from essays written in the NY Times). Both enjoyable for totally different reasons.

Day 75: Lazyish day. Well, not really, just that I only went for one walk, alebit 6km andI got pissed on. Wehn the rain hit, it was also fucking freezing! Some of the clouds were stunning today, made for great photos. As I type, it’s 21:12, I’m listening the wonderful Phoebe Bridgiers. Now, I’m gonna make some tea and sup a few ales, I reckon.

Day 76: Done lots of walking today (over 13,000 steps) I made sausage casserole with too much chilli (scotch bonnet and birdeye). I had an online (fb) debate with Sam over whether the George Floyd murder was a racial.

Day 77: Received a new (used) wing mirror for the car. £18 with delivery, I reckon that’s a bargain. I cashed in £20 from Prolific as well, so I’m satisfied at the financial full-circle. Dropped the car off at Barnwell (Nene Valley Body Shop) and walked back - 7km. Just about to dive into tea - finishing the blazing hot sausage casserole from yesterday. Then I’m going to do some more Rubik’s cube practice with my recently acquired GoCube.

Day 78: Lots of daily walking, 26 stair climb, press-up and late nights watching TikTok (gone 3am this morning) are making for a constantly knackered Tim Stubbs. Today I made veg soup and cooked up some meatballs. Both are delish. How did I ever to learn how to conjure up such stuff? The Rubik’s cube learning is coming along except that I need good daylight to distinguish between the yellow and white faces on the flipping thing!

Day 79: Listening to Radio 6 most the day and the news is making for dire listening. Forecast of severe recession, especially if there is a second peak of the virus, which I think there will be. Plus, an offshoot of the George Floyd murder and the #BlackLivesMatter movement, institutions and town councils are being lobbied by campaigners to remove statues of anyone associated with things like slavery (one was toppled in Bristol at the w/e) and rename buildings etc. that were named after historical characters with any links to something that now is deemed wrong or offensive. I agree with it but it’s not pleasant to hear amongst other bleak news. Walked to Barnwell to collect my car - front trim reseated and new wing mirror fitted, £20 - bargain (I source the replacement wing mirror). But, also, forked out £165 on car tax! Cleaned the lounge from top to bottom. Knackering!

Day 80: Chatted with Dad and Rita - he’s pissed off with the slavery backlash but otherwise they are both OK. I saw Baz in the Tesco queue where I mentioned my disgust at the Thursday market being allowed (I found I could not maintain 2m at all times just walking to Tesco’s!) and that I really don’t want to catch Covid19 as I will probably die. Maybe a bit dramatic but he messaged me later today to say he’d been thinking on what I said and offered to shop for me. I replied that I am OK to shop but am scared at how people are taking things so much less seriously than when lockdown started yet the virus is still out there just as it was then! I am very touched at his massage. I thoroughly cleaned the bedroom and changed the bedclothes today. House work really knackers me out!

Day 81: Spare room cleaned today. Not much else to type about. It’s Friday, I making curried mince and I don’t feel like a beer. How I’ve changed!

Day 82: I did have beers last night. Ended up going to bed with daylight and dawn chorus for company. Today, when I woke, gone 1pm, I have been greeted by what can only be described as thoroughly depressing news from every quarter. This includes violence in the capital, further virus outbreak in Beijing. Fog’s political posts on FB make for depressing (but vaild) reading. I’m feeling thoroughly fed up today. Not even music can lift my mood…

…but, I am currently listening to Craig Charles on BBCR6 and, I have to say, he’s putting in quite an exceptional effort - there may be hope that my mood might lift, even at gone 8pm! I might have a beer or two and grab something postivity and enjoyment from the day after all.

Day 83: Another late one last night but up before noon today. Started watching something called Condor on Sky One. It’s OK - there’s stuff I wanna waytch on Amazon Prime but, more often than not, it keeps telling me there’s ‘a problem’ when I try to play anything. Pissing me off. I just checked and I have two weeks of the initial 12 of furlough to go. I shall started asking the questions about what might happen on the Connections website.

Day 84: Typing this on Day 85. On the way back from dropping off some shoes for Sean Davies at his brother’s (martin) I met Karen and she said why not pop round for a beer so I did. Certainly not used to a drink on a Monday so that, and the genral upheaval to my evening, while good fun and a nice change, put pay to my usual diary entry! I sorted Amazon Prime out by leaving the TV turned off for over an hour. Day 85: Tim did the garden today and it looks great. The pipes in the bathroom have been knocking loudly, on and off, for a couple of weeks now. Last night, they were so loud that today I took it upon myself to resolve it or ring Woodfords. So, having turned off the water, run the taps dry to get rid of any trapped air and then turned the water back on slowly, I discoved it’s the cistern and its pipes. Woodfords are arranging Corvee to visit. Meanwhile, leaving the water turned off at least stops the noise which is, otherwise, costant and unbearable! I emailed HR a couple of days ago about what’s happening in a couple of weeks time in terms of furlough when the 12 weeks will be up. Sue Cockimngs got back to me attaching an email Deryn sent on 15th May which I never received. Basically, they’ll extend furlough if need be and an update should be forthcoming late May/early June. Well, that time has passed, so who knows what is going to happen. The furlough scheme (CJRS) has been changed by the govenment, I’ve read, and it looks like any new people would have to have been furloughed by June 10th (it’s the 16th today) so no furlough rotation, which is annoying. The CJRS ends 1st October with employer contributions required from 1st August - that’s D-Day as far as I am concerned….so job hunting will have to step up a notch! Day 86: Pete’s birthday and he bought himself the same speaker as me. When I asked if it lived up to his expectations he mentioned it’s better through WiFi than Bluetooth. That confused me as I haven’t got WiFi available on mine…..long story short, I bought the wrong fucking speaker. I got a AudioPro AddOn T10 instead of C10. To say I am fucked off is an understatement. To think I was so pleased at the cheap price I paid. Now I feel like I have wasted €200. Bollocks.

Day 87: Finished Alex Rider last night. Another series that started off so well and ended a litte weak but, overall, not bad. I’ve started keeping strange meal times…lunch very late (4pm) and dinner really late (11pm). I need to sort it ‘cos it’s playing havoc with my sugar levels. I had a huge hypo while having my second walk today, second day on the trot that’s happened. My late dinner was Chinese chicked curry with a quarter of a scotch bonnet and two birdeye chillies. Delish.

Day 88: I have managed to be bitten yesterday or the day before on one of my walks. There are strange, itchy lumps on my right inner forearm. And I do mean itchy. I trimmed my sideburns today, I was very pissed off with them. My hair looks just a little less shit. I did a shop at Tesco in Corby today. Mainly booze as follows: 20 cans Sam Miguel £18 18 cans Stella £15 20 bottles Bud £10 8 cans Tyskie £9 3 lrg bottles Warsteiner £5 £57 Bargain.

Day 89: Lazy day. One short walk and usual stair climb. Howard and Sue popped round to give me a pressie - bottle of Monkey Shoulder. I’m building up quite a collection of whisky!

Day 90: Dad called and we chatted for an hour or so. I had to apologise for not sending a father’s day card! Dan messaged me and offered to pay for a pizza delivery which I declined.

Football has started again this past week…Prem and Championship only. L1 and L2 season was cut short and Posh missed out on the play-offs by one place. As I type, Everton v Liverpool is on Sky Sports on a Sunday evening - it’s very strange with no crowd. There’s crowd noise being played thorugh the tannoy.

#Diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

1 note · View note

atinytokki · 5 years ago

Text

𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Chapter 2: Mutiny

Summer was bearing down stronger than ever on the ATEEZ. Wooyoung swept his arm across his sweaty forehead every few minutes for hours on end as he toiled under the hot sun cleaning cannons.

Left and right, sailors were shedding articles of clothing to cool off and eventually Wooyoung gave in and dropped his shirt in the pile.

“Are those ribs I see?” Jongho teased from the forecastle. “We can’t all have your physique, Jongho,” Wooyoung fired back, smirking when their youngest reeled in fake indignation.

“I take offence at that! You certainly could if you joined the morning exercises I invited you to!” Wooyoung was preparing another jab at Jongho when Yunho appeared from the rigging and joined in.

“At least you two have a decent tan! It appears as if my skin hasn’t seen the sun in months.” All the boys laughed at the truth of this statement, but sobered on the arrival of their captain, who was eyeing the pile of shirts.

“Are you quite comfortable, sir?” Wooyoung joked, not expecting a response.

“If you think I trust any of you enough to take off this jacket and put it in the pile, you’re wrong,” Hongjoong put a protective hand on his lapels before returning to the pile. “Do these need mending or are you just overheating in them?”

“Captain, it’s sweltering out here!” Yunho exclaimed. Hongjoong looked up at his master rigger. “While we’re on the subject of mending, do me a favour will you and fetch the flag. There’s a small tear in it I’d like to patch up.”

Yunho laughed and obliged, flying up the ropes with effortless speed and lowering their special flag. Hongjoong took it back to his quarters with a word of thanks and nothing more.

“Does he always sew everything himself?” Wooyoung turned to the other officers. Jongho tilted his head in thought. “Mostly, yes. He taught Seonghwa to patch sails but everything else, he does on his own.” Wooyoung smiled fondly at the back of the retreating captain. “He’s got such a bold sense of style, so uniquely commanding, but what for?”

Jongho laughed wholeheartedly at this. “I’ve no idea, hyung! That’s just what captains do.”

There was rum and dancing after supper that night, but Hongjoong felt unwell and retired early, offering a flippant excuse of heat exhaustion.

For him, the night was long and sleepless. A disquieting sensation had settled inside that he was losing strength, each passing hour sucking more out of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was becoming sicker than he’d ever been.

As morning dawned, Hongjoong brought a shaking hand to his forehead and immediately drew it back. His skin was burning at a dangerous temperature and he shifted uncomfortably in his already soaked sheets before giving up and rising to take the morning watch.

The world reeled from the motion of standing and there was a tight pain in his stomach, strong enough that his face was plastered into a grimace. Hongjoong inhaled shakily, trying to clear his mind and return to his work.

He would have to keep it together in front of the crew, construct a façade and hang onto it while he figured out what was going on.

Half a week of clear skies and speedy winds served the crew well and cheered spirits, largely dissolving tensions between sailors new and old. Reassigned to one of Wooyoung’s gun teams, Seunghyun caused no trouble and his unprecedented duel was near forgotten. However, the mistake of one of his lower-rank friends soon became a frigate wide issue.

“He left the food stores unsecured, and now we have a rat problem,” Mingi explained to a distracted Hongjoong.

“I love the life of a pirate! But I hate rats.” Jongho quipped to Wooyoung, unashamed at having overheard a private conversation. Mingi chattered on, already finished with the damage report before he realised he was completely unheeded. “Captain?”

Hongjoong snapped out of it, wide-eyed but desperately trying to create a semblance of attentiveness. “Yes! Rats?”

Mingi squinted at him, and he knew he had been quiet just a moment too long. The ruse was up. “What’s wrong?” Wooyoung and Jongho perked up again from their corner of the quarterdeck, doing their best to appear indifferent, while Hongjoong tried to convince his second in command that everything was fine.

“Maybe you should lie down?” Mingi’s voice was lowered for privacy’s sake but insistent nonetheless.

“It’s nothing! Why don’t we work on the rat problem instead?”

“Come on, Captain, a nap won’t hurt anything!” The words slipped out of Wooyoung’s mouth almost before he was aware. Both captain and quartermaster gaped at him from the helm.

Whoops...

Hongjoong stalked across the deck and drew up just an inch too close to Wooyoung for his liking. “Not a word of this to anyone, do you hear? It’s nothing, but it’ll get blown out of proportion if it reaches the men.” Though tempted to fire back, Wooyoung lowered his head and nodded submissively.

He watched the bright red jacket of his captain retreat, swaying slightly with each step, and turned with a frown to Jongho. “It’s not nothing, we both know that,” he gritted out. Jongho hummed a yes, eyes fixed on Hongjoong. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do, though. Even San can’t help him if he refuses treatment.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, a plan unfolding in his mind. “He wouldn’t do something as brainless as that, would he?”

It was 2AM a day later and Wooyoung was outside the Captain’s door with a fake story about some frayed nets at the ready as an excuse, when it turned out he didn’t need it. Hongjoong didn’t answer, even after five knocks. Wooyoung fetched San and the two of them crept inside. Sure enough, Hongjoong lay sweating and whining quietly in a mess of blankets.

“Sir?” Their leader shot up, hand clutching his gun, and for a moment didn’t recognise them. “I’m fi—” “You’re not,” San cut him off verbally, but physically was still cautious in approaching until the gun was lowered. “It’s alright, we won’t tell. Just let me treat you.”

Hongjoong collapsed back into bed, in a sitting position that was more like a slump, and gripped his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me... I just woke up like this five days ago and I don’t know what it is—”

“Five days?” San plopped down at the foot of the bed, already holding his lantern up to the Captain’s face and examining it. “You should have told me!”

“I don’t know what it is, San,” Hongjoong bit out. “I need to be fit for command. We’re too close for something minor like this to get in the way.” “Something minor!” San gawked at him and threw up his free hand.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“San...”

“Tell me how many fingers!”

“It’s dark! I don’t know, I can’t see any!”

Wooyoung shook his head from his spot near the window and pinched his nose. “Let me tell the other officers.” It was more of a statement than a question, and Hongjoong frowned at him from the bed. “They need to know if you are unfit for command!”

The sickly leader groaned in a mix of protest and nausea. “Let San check me first,” he finally sighed, beginning to succumb to the fatigue blooming in his limbs.

San shook his head as he shone the light in unfocused eyes. “I need to go read up on this before I make a call. But I think we can all agree that it would be most prudent of you to remain in bed and avoid spreading it until the judgement is passed.” He sent a pointed glare to his patient on his way out.

Wooyoung followed and closed the door gently behind him. His exterior was stern but inside a nagging worry began to snowball out of control.

Something was really wrong here.

...

Mingi announced a rat-killing competition, offering double rum rations for the man that brought him the most dead vermin, as a sly way to keep the crew busy and clueless to the absence of their Captain on deck as his health rapidly declined.

Wooyoung was posted as supervision and to keep the hunt from turning into a brawl as the crew got rowdy. He had been doing his best to keep his attention off of San’s studying which was vicious and more frenzied every day.

Occasionally he disappeared into the Captain’s quarters to observe something or ask a question, but the surgeon spent most of his time in his sickbay getting his hands on every relevant material he could find.

From this fact alone, Wooyoung knew they were dealing with something deadly. He sat with Yunho in the crow’s nest, overlooking a perfectly swabbed deck with nothing else to do but mind the winds and sail on.

Even when silent, the master rigger’s presence was comforting. Every time they sat up there, sometimes loud and sometimes peaceful, Wooyoung always experienced a sense of home. This time, Yunho knew he needed to talk. Wooyoung felt soft eyes on him before a soft voice followed.

“It’s unnerving, isn’t it.”

Wooyoung nodded. “San running around like a chicken with his head cut off to find out what the sickness is...” he trailed off, not wanting to create a whole affair about it, but Yunho knew what he meant. “Exactly. It’s not encouraging. But I do think he’s getting close, he hasn’t slept at all the past couple of days.”

Yunho watched the men moving around on deck, minuscule as ants from his towering vantage point. “I do wish he’d come to our cabin at least and tell me what he’s finding.” “Maybe if Captain wasn’t so difficult,” Wooyoung knew his tone was more bitter than Yunho was used to from him.

Yunho wasn’t upset but couldn’t help but shake his head. “You’re not understanding his reasons. Hongjoong-hyung isn’t resisting because he doesn’t care whether the crew is in danger, it’s just part of his struggle with—with being strong for us.” Wooyoung was confused.

“Captain’s always...” Yunho was struggling to put words to emotions. “He’s always been so driven to spend himself on us. To give his time and energy to the commanding of this ship, one that he created with his own two hands, you know. Sure, he’s stubborn, but he knows what’s best ultimately and he’ll surrender when his body forces him to. I only wish that wasn’t the case.”

It was interesting to see Yunho, a tall, intimidating boy with the heart of a child and a truly light personality, so serious about something. He was still easy to talk to, and Wooyoung was still relaxed enough to ask a more personal question. “How exactly did you meet him?”

Yunho smiled sheepishly at the memory. “It was when my brother and I were living on the street. We had escaped the orphanage and to provide for our needs I begged, fought in street fights, and occasionally stole change. It was a wild time! I was picking food out of the rubbish at a tavern one morning when I saw a boy at the bar with a bag of silver hanging at his belt. Hongjoong-hyung, but I didn’t know his reputation then. To me he was just some random kid. He was certainly too young legally to buy rum so as he sweet talked the bartender I snatched the money bag. I made it two steps before a gun was on my back and a sword at my neck. And yet to give me a chance to win the money for myself, he challenged me to a fist fight. That was his mistake! He put up a decent fight but I beat him, and he offered me employment. I didn’t want to leave my brother but... the promise of enough money to buy a comfortable life convinced me. I’ll go back for him one day, when all this is over and the treasure is found.” He told the tale with a soft smile, reminiscence twinkling over his face.

“Have you ever doubted the existence of the treasure?” Wooyoung’s question was quiet, treading carefully among the stars in Yunho’s eyes.

Yunho’s expression didn’t waver but he turned to Wooyoung expectantly. “Perhaps the question you’re really asking is ‘have you ever doubted your captain’?”

Wooyoung blushed but didn’t deny it.

“And I can assure you I have not. I trust him, and he trusts the way to treasure. He’s never given me reason to doubt.” The answer was satisfactory, and Wooyoung gave a small squeeze of gratitude to the rigger’s shoulder.

“Officers report to the Captain’s quarters!” Seonghwa’s yell reached the crow’s nest and Wooyoung felt a sinking feeling hit his stomach.

When everyone was present and the door was thrice locked, San began explaining his discoveries.

“The symptoms are those of gaol fever so far. If it is some strain of that disease then you must have contracted it from the dead bodies you touched aboard that ghost ship. Those people must have escaped a prison where it was prevalent.”

Hongjoong sat at his desk, complacent, before asking, “Has anyone else caught it?”

San shook his head. “The period of time that it actively spreads must have passed while you were confined here. My other working theory is that the catalyst of the disease was already near death on the ghost ship and is significantly weakened now, having infected you. Still, I suggest we exercise caution and use good hygiene.”

Here he was lost in his mind for a moment, the stuffy room suffocating his thoughts.

“Will he...recover?” Seonghwa put forward the officers’ collective concern.

“It...I...I can’t promise anything. No one has survived anything like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible! It just means there’s not much I can do to heal you.”

Here he stared at Hongjoong with shining and apologetic eyes. But their leader nodded as if he had known all along. “I’ll do what I can,” San recognised guilt forming again and let it go. “But the fight is yours, Captain.”

“There’s a rash now,” Hongjoong admitted, resisting the urge to squirm in his chair.

“A sign of regression...” San almost whispered. “You may inform the crew,” he directed his words to Mingi, who by right had command now. “My official judgement is that he is unfit for command.”

Wooyoung’s heart went a mile a minute, and he couldn’t get over the sensation that he was hearing something unintended for his ears.

“How long?” Hongjoong’s voice was steady. He didn’t need to utter the rest of his question for the others to know what he was asking. “At best... two weeks,” San choked out before turning away.

The room was spinning in Wooyoung’s eyes from shock. He focused on San’s shaking back to reorient himself before running to him and enclosing his tense form in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” the doctor was whispering. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Hongjoong himself had his head in his hands and was refusing eye contact with anyone. He allowed Seonghwa to drag him to bed as silence lingered. The officers stood still, trying to work through what they had just heard.

Finally Seonghwa grabbed Mingi and stepped out for a discussion. The others were useless for the rest of the day, eventually retiring and, in the case of San, poring over books all evening again once released from Wooyoung’s grip. Sleep escaped Wooyoung, and he stared at the boards of the ceiling devoid of even aimless thought.

...

The fire in the kitchen crackled steadily, glowing in the two pairs of eyes that observed it.

“It’s your charge as quartermaster. This isn’t a conversation we need to have,” Seonghwa’s voice was almost as distant as his thoughts.

Mingi’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, yet flames danced in them. “I know... and I suppose I took the responsibility on myself when I accepted the position. But you and I both know I’m not the candidate who is cut out for it. You are.”

With a shake of the head and a shuddering breath, Seonghwa tried to make Mingi understand. “You’re saying that because you never wanted it to be your responsibility. It’s only proper that you take...” His brow knit together in remorse. “...take what’s yours by right.”

“Seonghwa-hyung,” Mingi whined. “I’m not trying to put the pressure on you so I can avoid shouldering the burden, but think of the crew’s need for leadership. At the very least, couldn’t we share it?”

“What would he say to that, I wonder?” Seonghwa looked to the door, half expecting Captain to walk in and tell them himself. “I feel silly even considering it. But we need to agree on our course of action, whatever it is. So maybe... maybe that’s the best option. The two of us delegating duties and making the important decisions together. And we both know our most important task is to find land and someone who can help.”

He followed a floating spark with his eyes until it went out, wishing he could wake up from this egregious dream. “If we have to take command, let it only be brief.”

“Oh thank you, hyung,” Mingi finally released the built up tension in his chest, lowering his head into his hands. “I could never do it alone.”

He sniffed in embarrassment and rubbed tears out of his eyes until Seonghwa appeared by his side, guiding him into a hug. “You’ll never need to,” he reassured him.

Both were weighed down by the gravity of the odds stacked against their leader. “Hey, hey,” he shushed the younger boy. “We’ve come through worse.” Mingi nodded as his weeping quieted, but he didn’t speak what was both on their minds.

We’ve never done it without Hongjoong.

...

“Wouldn’t it make sense that a cure could exist in the east for a disease that only exists in the east?”

San chewed slowly on his bite of breakfast and thought aloud. Yeosang narrowed his eyes at him over his spoon.

It had been established as an unspoken rule that the officers wouldn’t discuss Hongjoong’s condition, even amongst themselves. No one could blame San for continuing to search for answers, however, and they all grunted some noise of agreement before returning to their meals.

“I mean, there’s no record of any affective treatment for gaol fever, but this isn’t exactly the same thing, so is it possible...?”

Finally Yeosang dropped his spoon into the bowl. “San, are you saying there could be a cure somewhere out here?”

Suddenly aware of the attention on him, San became defensive. “Well, like I said, I don’t know. Really! I don’t! But...”

“It would be worth a try?” Mingi cocked his head to the side, understanding where San was going with this.

“Mingi, of course it would be worth a try! I’ve only been looking at known illnesses and this is something unknown which means of course there’s a chance. But it’s not my call, it’s yours and Seonghwa’s. And I suppose Yeosang’s if he can tell us where the nearest inhabited land is.”

Yeosang sighed at the out of place sarcasm. “Yes, I can tell you once I look at my maps. But do you know what type of cure to look for?”

San nodded, almost eagerly. “I’ve got it narrowed down between a few different concoctions. Get me to an apothecary and I’ll buy their most useful medicine.”

For the next day Wooyoung could be found faithfully at the crow’s nest with Yunho, waiting to sight land. The atmosphere was rife with agitation, and when he spotted it, the buzz around him grew. Land was a blueish green tinted shadow on the horizon, but to Wooyoung it held the promise of saving grace.

“Let it not be a wasted trip,” Yeosang mumbled, mostly to himself, but Wooyoung heard and countered with a nervous chuckle, “Optimism only please, Yeosang!”

Mingi called the crewmen together as they pulled up to the dock and announced “Dismissal for the afternoon. I expect you back at sunset.” He didn’t pay much attention to the practically forgotten Seunghyun and followers, who hung around the ATEEZ instead of exploring the harbour.

Seonghwa was at the helm, surveying the deck below for remaining rats, when he noticed Yeosang hanging around just past his peripherals. He grew in concern watching the younger boy who stared off into space as if his mind was running in circles.

“Everything alright?”

There was a pause and a tilt of the head before Yeosang answered, “Well, we both know it’s not.” His lips were pursed again, white rimmed and dry.

Seonghwa leaned heavier on the wheel, mentally begging Yeosang not to go there.

“I mean, last time I poked my head in he looked hours off from leaving us.” Seonghwa’s heart wrenched into a tight knot inside him. He couldn’t figure out if Yeosang was angry or something else. “He still hasn’t addressed us properly with—with instructions or advice or...or last words,” tears were bubbling to the surface, clouding his vision.

“We’re running out of time,” he cried and Seonghwa was there in an instant. His own breath was coming out in shaky bursts and finally he had to break down as well. “I don’t know what to say,” Seonghwa admitted, scrubbing his face furiously.

He had been putting everyone else back together as they split at the seams but when it came down to it, he wasn’t sure he could convince himself it would all be fine. “I’m scared too.”

Yeosang nodded at the voicing of his thoughts. Without the guilty eyes of the dying on them, they forgot everything and wept together.

...

Yunho’s eyes were rimmed with red. San took note and refrained from bringing it up. No need to point out how poorly they were faring in this disaster.

The hunt was soon well underway. The pair had taken off to scope out the new wharf while the others stayed onboard.

“What is this place?” Yunho caught the attention of a woman who passed them on the docks.

“Geobugi- the last pirate haven in the east.”

After jogging through the streets of the small seaside town, San located the apothecary shop on the southern outskirts. For being a remote establishment, it was still fairly busy.

Impatience radiated off of him as he stood in line listening to the string of detailed advice being given about plant care to the patron in front of him. When it was their turn he clasped his hands and opened his mouth before being cut off.

“Let me guess, you need to save a wilting rose too.”

...

Hongjoong had descended into incoherent mumbling and fits of coughs.

Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho played a card game in the corner of the Captain’s quarters, unsure of what to do during each episode. Just as Wooyoung was about to win the game a single knock sounded from the door, followed by a crashing sound as it was thrown open.

All three stood in shock at the sight of Seunghyun and his accomplices barging in. Seonghwa and Yeosang were trapped in their arms, two swords precariously balanced at their necks.

“What is the meaning of this!” Mingi took a step back as Seunghyun’s men tightened their grips on the prisoners.

“This, silly boy, is a mutiny,” Seunghyun laughed back. He hummed a lazy tune and sauntered over to the bedridden Captain, who at some point had become aware that his room was being invaded.

Hongjoong’s gun was locked, loaded, and aimed but a thin stream of blood winding down Yeosang’s neck lowered the weapon by itself. Seunghyun tutted at the shaking captain, limp hair plastered to his forehead, and held his hand out palm up. “Weapons, please.”

With the last of the officers’ guns the power was officially in the hands of the mutineers. Wooyoung held Yeosang’s fearful gaze and tried to send him a withering smile.

To his surprise, the captors removed the biting metal from their necks and shoved them at the other three, causing a collision and knocking over the card table. “You’re not killing us?” Seonghwa’s question was bold but sensible.

Seunghyun ignored him and drew his own sword, placing the long cold edge against Hongjoong’s throat. “No. I need you to help raise the anchor, or he dies.”

“I’ll tear your flesh off if you touch him,” Jongho wasted no time making threats. “I don’t think you’ll get very far, child,” Seunghyun teased, pressing the blade closer.

“Power was transferred peacefully,” Mingi shouted back. “You have no reason to mutiny!” Again the ringleader laughed. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Now! Unfurl the sails, we have places to be.”

...

Yunho and San were already running down the hill with their prize when they spotted the ATEEZ. “Why are they leaving?” San was stopped in his tracks.

Yunho ran a hand through his hair. “There’s no way the crew already reboarded!”

To pick up the pace, he scooped up San and carried him on his back, covering the distance to the dock in long strides. When the surgeon was back on the ground he looked around wildly for their seamen. A dozen or so of their crew came running in behind them from the town all jumping, waving, and yelling in outrage at being left behind.

“Stay here, all of you,” Yunho instructed hastily. “We’ll go figure out what’s happening and come back for you.” With that he turned and dove off the end of the dock. San secured the medicine under his clothes and followed him.

“I see them!” Wooyoung’s sharp eyes were directed out the back of the ship through the tall windows of the captain’s cabin where they were confined. “Someone fetch a rope!”

Luckily, Hongjoong had his canvas bag in the room and there was enough rope to lower it to the two swimmers. Jongho secured the end to his own frame and braced himself on the desk while Yunho and San climbed up and were helped in by the other officers. “A last minute boarding,” Yunho gasped out, shaking water from his head. “Who is at the helm?” San surveyed the room in a panic.

“It’s Seunghyun. He and his minions staged a mutiny,” Seonghwa bit out, pulling up and stowing the rope. “He’s locked us in here and stolen Yeosang’s maps,” Mingi continued for him. “We don’t know where we’re going or why but he won’t kill any of us... I think.”

Yunho frowned. “Are there plans to take back the ship?” Jongho was righting the card table and shaking his head, “They far outnumber us now that the entire crew has been left behind. Did you at least find medicine?”

San nodded vigorously, pulling the little vial out safe and sound. He took it straight to Hongjoong’s bedside.

“How are you?” The question was inadequate for the pain San could see swimming in the Captain’s eyes.

“Alive.”

Hearing his voice crack between puffs of air, San shuffled around to pour a glass of water and helped him sip it. “I’ve got something to help you, if it’s not too late,” the surgeon told his patient softly, uncorking the bottle. “It won’t taste great but it may save your life, hyung.”

Trapped in Hongjoong’s room, the officers made do and spread their extra garments on the floor, sleeping in a huddled formation. San opted to pull up a chair next to the captain’s bed and keep an eye on him through the night. It took awhile with Yeosang’s arm flung across him and Jongho’s feet next to his face but eventually Wooyoung drifted off.

...

“Shoot me.”

Wooyoung jolted out of his sleep, the soft-spoken plea waking him abruptly. He sat up to check with San, but the tired doctor was fast asleep in his chair. Wooyoung swallowed and looked to Captain. It had sounded like his voice that had spoken, but no one else of the officers dozing around the room had noticed. Perhaps it had been in his head.

He settled back, unsure if he could fall back into the peaceful rhythm of sleep now. A groan from the otherwise still body of Hongjoong captured his attention, and he peered over at the patient to discover his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. Wooyoung’s heart jumped in surprise.

“Shoot me.”

The words were distinctly his, Wooyoung observed, following the movement of his mouth before lips pressed tightly together into a hard line.

“Captain...?” His hesitant venture was lost on Hongjoong’s ears. The captain was delirious.

Nervous now, Wooyoung stood and leant closer, trying to catch the older boy’s attention. He wanted to say more, but his mouth had seemingly gone dry. Hongjoong was completely unaware and muttered another “Shoot me. Please.”

Deeply disturbed by what he was witnessing, the stricken gunner leaned over the bed and grabbed hold of San’s arm, shaking him awake. “What...? Oh!”

The doctor picked up on what was happening much faster than Wooyoung had, and rose to try to bring Hongjoong out of it. “Captain, can you hear me?”

“Please, I just want to go. I just want to be found already... let me leave!” His cries were growing in volume, and soon other officers were stirring from their slumber. Wooyoung looked on with a furrowed brow, trying to make sense of Hongjoong’s increasingly pitiful requests.

He was becoming agitated, strength enough to twist up his sheets granted to his limbs in the haze of delirium. “Come on,” San was shaking him, nothing else to be done. “Just wake up, it’s not real!”

“Someone end it, I’m-I’m begging... No! That’s an order, I’m ordering! Someone...someone shoot.” His stuttering trailed off, and Wooyoung turned the words over in his mind. “I just want to be found. Can’t you see?” These words escaped with perfect clarity and Wooyoung latched on to them.

He wants to be found? He began to think back to what he knew of Hongjoong’s past. “He thinks he’s on the abandoned island again,” Mingi supplied, joining them at the bedside.

“I just want to leave this place...” Hongjoong had grown exhausted again, fighting San along with the demons in his mind. His last entreaty left his lips almost too soft to hear. “Take me home.”

“You are home,” Seonghwa had joined them. Wooyoung saw wetness on his face and averted his eyes.

Hongjoong went quiet again, and the attention in the room was inadvertently cast on San, who busied his fingers with the bedding and avoided the eyes. “It’s not an improvement,” he finally said. “But it’s not the final stage yet.”

This was no comfort, but it sent the other officers to their beds in resignation. San paused over Hongjoong’s top blanket, clenching it in his hands before smoothing it out and returning to his chair.

Wooyoung could read frustration in the lines of his face. He wanted to say something, but again gazed elsewhere before returning to the floor. He didn’t sleep.

...

Hongjoong slept all the next day. A mutinous goon delivered some food around midday, but apart from that there was nothing to be done but sit around the card table, playing mindlessly.

Yunho volunteered to swap out with San in keeping an eye on his patient, and when San sank into a chair at the table during the whist game, Wooyoung felt his hopes sink with him.

“He’s almost gone,” San whispered unbidden. Jongho sat back in his chair like he had been struck across the face. Wooyoung was distinctly and unexpectedly aware of how young Jongho was to be in this situation.

“The medicine’s not working?” He asked quietly for clarification. San wouldn’t meet his eyes. “He should have shown improvement by now…”

“He’s stopped breathing!” Yunho suddenly screamed from the other side of the room.

Everyone was there instantly. “How long?” San was reaching for a pulse.

“Just now, I swear,” Yunho stumbled over his words. “I was watching him like you told me but he just—”

“Stand back!” San didn’t have time to hear the full explanation as he turned he motionless body over and began pounding on his back.

“Someone grab me the bellows!” He yelled and it was placed in his hand by Yeosang a moment later. “What are you doing?” The navigator asked, disturbed at how pale Hongjoong was.

San positioned the nozzle in his mouth and began squeezing air in. “Giving him breath.”

It went on for a full minute before San threw the bellows to the side and in desperation gave Hongjoong a strong slap across the face. This final attempt to revive him was successful.

Gasping and fighting for air, Hongjoong’s eyes flew open. There was a collective current of alleviation and San collapsed back into his chair.

Needing to resuscitate himself after the experience, Wooyoung opened the back windows and took deep gulps of the sea air. He realised his legs were shaking and leaned on the windowsill. Captain just died. He died and came back.

Yunho grasped Hongjoong’s hand and held it in between his. “Please don’t leave us again, hyung.”

Seonghwa’s hand was on San’s shoulder. “That was brilliant.”

“Too close. That was entirely too close.”

No one budged for the rest of the evening, terrified that doing so would send their captain back into respiratory arrest.

San noted after the sun went down that his breathing had actually improved significantly, and began to allow a spark of faith that he would survive to grow inside. “The stuff I gave him was made after an epidemic of a disease quite similar to gaol fever,” he told the others to pass the time. “I think it may be kicking in.”

On their third day of imprisoned sailing Hongjoong came to. It was as if he had needed to hit rock bottom before surfacing.

Mingi watched his eyelids twitch and struggle before sliding open, revealing eyes that were finally focused and aware of their surroundings. The officers didn’t need to be called over to see their captain was conscious, having heard the sound of his voice croak a timid, “Mingi?”

“Yessir?” Mingi responded, happy tears streaming down his face.

“How sweet,” came a sarcastic voice from the doorway. All turned to see Seunghyun, who had been absent since the mutiny. His mouth formed a sneer. “It’s still too late for you, sir. We’ve arrived.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx @theinvisablessed @twolfiehowl

A/N: Haha take a shot every time Wooyoung doesn’t sleep! Feeeeeeel the feeeeeeeeels ppl! Fun fact: The beginning was a reference to Wave mv filming behind the scenes when Hongjoong claimed he wasn’t hot in that jacket xD I’ve had a lovely week sailing, poking around at the beach and basically having a refresher course in the minutæ of sea living and piracy which will be incredibly useful for the accurate production of this series :) and is of course also of great personal interest. Mum bought me a nautical curiosities book to gobble up :P so I’ll go read that now and then hopefully wake up to some notes tomorrow... P.S. if there are questions about the disease feel free to message me because we won’t really go further into that in the series proper, there’s just too much ground to cover!

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

57 notes · View notes

final-fantasy-mama · 5 years ago

Text

A face like a Goobbue

Emet Selch X WOL

This is backstory for Amaurot, non canon, just me playing around with ideas and trying to build a story. This is the official first chapter of my fic and all other chapters will follow a general plot line and the main story of SHB. It probably sucks but meh, enjoy! Again I will say this is non canon so if small things are different than the game dont kill me. Im using the title of Altima (ultima, virgo) for the wol just because thats my zodiac and my favorite summon from ff12.

**************************************

"Before the sundering there was one world. A world that knew naught but peace and prosperity. Until it was faced with a crisis. Unprecedented. Terrifying. Civilization found itself perched upon a precipice, staring into oblivion." ~ Emet Selch

"You weren't impressed I take it?" Hythlodaeus asked as he and his companion walked down the darkened streets of Amarout. A city as grand and opulent as Amaurot never truly slept and even at the wee hours of nightfall people could be seen going to and fro, couples joined in hand for a moonlight stroll, folks walking in and out of pubs and eateries, and beings like Emet Selch and his friend Hythlodaeus returning from another long winded convocation meeting. This one had gone on longer than needed but much was needed to be covered and introduced as it was not every day a new member was added to their elite ranks. The moon was high in the sky and gave enough soft light for them to walk about unbothered.

"Hmmmm." Emet grunted beneath his mask. "Considering how they spoke not more than 5 words during the whole meeting and seemed to be seated just for decoration, I would say I’m not so much unimpressed as I am simply disappointed. The convocation made it seem like our 14th member was something to be astounded by and yet all I saw the entire session was some meek mewling lamb shaking in their robes. The title of Altima is not given freely nore easily so on earth did they earn it?"

His friend had to chuckle, and they trotted along under the lamp lit streets of their great city, the tall buildings and spires filling the skyline against a dark blue sky. Their robes gently swept the ground as they moved at a steady pace in the direction of home. "It is just as you say, the title of Altima is not given easily so shouldn't you give them the benefit of the doubt? It was their first day, mayhap they were nervous? Goodness knows the state of affairs in the world right now would make anyone feel awkward."

"Awkward enough to call on someone who obviously lacks experience...What do you imagine they look like under that white mask they wear?" Emet suddenly pondered in a mocking way.

"Like any other of our kin." Hythlodaeus shrugged.

"Like a Goobbue I'm sure." He mocked and then suddenly stopped. Across the street in a darkened area sat a rusty gate covered in ivy and morning glories. The lot had been vacant for a while with an old mansion on the grounds, unable to be resold as most people regarded it as condemned or unlivable. Now though, the old mansions murky windows were lit, and a pleasant sound drifted from its inner gardens. Someone was living here.

His friend noticed how intently he stared at it and mentioned, "Oh looks like someone finally moved in. A blessing to be sure, that mansion was in need of repair."

A burst of light from the garden and wave of Aether made them both gasp and look at each other. "Who purchased this residence?" Emet asked suspiciously.

Hythlodaeus shrugged and adjusted his grey mask accordingly. "I'm not too sure. It must have been recent if neither of us have heard rumor of it."

Emet eyed the garden beyond the gate. "Creation magic that powerful shouldn't be used willy nilly in a public space."

Again, there was another burst of light and Emet crossed the street with his friend running to catch up. "What are you doing?!"

"That sort of Aether output should not be so hap hazardously used in such a setting without any supervision, I'm going to see what this perpetrator is up to!" Emet huffed.

"First off you're not one to make judgements like that due to your own tarried record!" Hythlodaeus scolded. "Second, you are breaking and entering!"

Emet rolled his eyes. "Then stay here if it frightens you so!" and gingerly opened the gate and stepped inside.

"Have you lost your mind!?" His friend hissed and then threw up his hands. "Do as you like but I’m not going to face any charges for your reckless snooping!" He turned on his heel and stomped away as Emet untangled himself from the ivy of the gateway and carefully made his way towards the garden.

Music gently filled the area as he turned the corner of the mansion as was greeted by a large open courtyard filled with trees and flowers of all species and colors. They sprang out of the ground in no particular order, completely at the will of nature making the are seem more like a jungle than a courtyard. Lanterns hung off the tree limbs casting soft light over everything as a gazebo sat in the center of it all and in the center of the gazebo sat a person, hunched over a small table and scribbling furiously into a large notebook.

Their back was turned to Emet Selch so all he could glimpse was the provocative expanse of bare back and the trailing ruffles of a white nightgown, its wearer so consumed by their scribbling they scarce noticed the intruder. A gramophone played soft music next to them as they looked up from their book, snapped their fingers and a burst of light filled the area. Emet hid himself in the shadow of the nearest tree as something chirped and landed on the back of the creator’s chair. From the light a winged creature kin to a bird but with an absurdly large beak, gray feathers and a rather grumpy face appeared. It flapped its new wings a few times from its perch as the creator patted their head affectionately.

Then the figure stood up and stretched long feminine arms over a head full of long silky hair, looking up at the moon in the sky and reaching for it as if they could pluck it from the expanse, before turning in a way that Emet could see their features. In the privacy of her own home, her face was barren of any mask or covering and when she turned in his direction fully, he felt his heart stop in his throat. A beautiful face with glaringly sharp eyes and soft features looked directly at him.

Time seemed to stop for him as this white dressed goddess took a step forward, her soft nightgown hanging loosely off her shoulders and dragging on the ground behind her as if it were a wedding gown. She raised a graceful hand and pointed a finger at him before shouting a command and something struck Emet hard behind the head. It sent him flying forward and onto the ground face first. He didn’t even manage a shout as he rolled onto his back and a long leg and dainty foot planted itself hard enough into his chest he grunted in pain. The woman in white stood over him, a scowl on her face, hands on her hips as she dug her foot in deeper.

"You'd better have a good excuse for being here!" She growled as a small black cat raced up her leg, around her chest and rested on her shoulder. She had used her creatures to attack him whilst he was preoccupied.

He tried to speak but her foot on his chest made it difficult so he croaked. "Madam you misunderstand!"

"Misunderstand what?!" She exclaimed. "You're trespassing in my garden and spying on me like some....some pervert!"

"Creation magic used outside the security of the hall of concepts is strictly prohibited! Only members of the higher echelons and the convocation are allowed to create outside those restrictions. You have a lot of nerve calling me a pervert when you are so openly disobeying sacred law!" He snapped back.

"Frankly what I do on my own property is none of your business." She said matter of factly.

"I am of the convocation! Now would you kindly take your foot off of me so I may further explain myself!" He growled, finally losing his cool under the circumstances. He slapped her foot off as he stood up and dusted the grass off his black cloak.

She looked him up and down before saying. "If you're on the council then you should know better than to go sneaking around a lady's home in the dead of night."

He huffed as he straightened himself out and bowed rather begrudgingly. "Emet Selch, the Architect, at your service."

She paused and stared so hard at him she might have bore holes through him. "Oh. You." She said simply as if it was no matter.

"What do you mean, Oh you? Accosting a council member is so uncouth one would have to ask where you acquired your lack of manners!"

She smirked. "Not as uncouth as a man staring a girl down in her nighties."

He felt heat creep up his neck. "I was investigating the misuse of creation magic! Nothing more! I was most certainly not admiring your lithe form beneath the moonlight...uh, that is I was not admiring you at all!"

She giggled, the atmosphere turning instantly to something mirthful while she walked back to the gazebo. "I've heard of you Emet Selch and rumor has it you're not a paragon of justice and order, in fact I heard you and Hythlodaeus are quite the troublemakers." She waved for him to join him at the table and he did reluctantly as she snapped a tea set into existence. After pulling up a second chair for him and sliding a hot glass of tea his way, she sat back down herself and pushed her large notebook aside. Emet could see that it was filling with drawings and diagrams, all hand drawn in dark pencil. The current page she had been working on had a drawing of the bird that sat at her back and under it a name. "Shoe bill".

"You're concepts?" Emet asked as he calmed himself down on tea.

"I never create anything unless I’ve drawn it out first and written myself detailed instructions. As you say, the misuse of such magic is costly and dangerous, so do good fellows like yourself need not be worried about little old me." she smiled and put a few lumps of sugar into her own drink.

"And you are...?" He dared to ask.

Emet watched her as she drank her tea down and noted the subtly bobbing of her lovely throat as she swallowed. She was without a doubt the most enchanting creature he had ever seen and when she told him her name, he wished he could go back in time and take back everything bad he said about her, for he had never been more wrong in his life. Oh, Emet sometimes you need to put your mask where your mouth is, this was one filly you needn't mess with.

"We met earlier today. I am Altima, the 14th member of the convocation...and probably not as Goobbue faced as you imagined. You and your friend should speak more quietly when in public, you never know what manner of creatures might be listening in on you." She smirked as she rested her chin in her hand.

#emet selch #finalfantasyxiv #shadowbringers fanfic #amaurot #i just want to write something so dont kill me

19 notes · View notes

bytheangell · 5 years ago

Text

This Is the Coda That Never Ends... Part 13

(Read on AO3) (read from the start)

“I’ll keep you updated,” Alec assures Magnus, giving his husband a kiss goodbye before picking Clary up off of the sofa and carrying her through the portal. When he steps through into Lorenzo’s mansion it looks almost the same as it did a year ago when he was last here. The little constants are nice, especially considering how much the world around him has changed in such a short period of time.

Alec immediately moves towards the sofa but Lorenzo stops him.

“Can you carry her upstairs?” Lorenzo asks him. “We can put her in a proper bed this time until she wakes up, I’ll conjure up something for her to eat, too, the poor thing must be drained.”

Alec tilts his head for a moment, caught off-guard by the extra measure Lorenzo considered to keep Clary comfortable. He hasn’t dealt with Lorenzo very much in the past year, not since his move to Alicante and Isabelle’s appointment as Head of the Institute in his place. Of course, during his visits and time catching up with Underhill with a night out here and there, he’s heard his fair share of the subtle shifts in the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s attitude from the man who once blacklisted Magnus from the warlock community.

On the outside he still puts on a show of being above caring about trivial matters and people who serve him no purpose, especially during official meetings and council sessions, but this is a taste of the Lorenzo who Underhill and Isabelle have been telling him about. Alec almost didn’t believe them before seeing it with his own two eyes; Underhill is one thing, Alec expects him to be kind to his boyfriend, but he has no reason to go above and beyond for Clary.

“That sounds good, yeah.” Alec shifts Clary’s weight in his arms before turning towards the stairs.

“Up the stairs, take a right, second door on the left.” Lorenzo says before turning and heading off somewhere.

Alec’s second surprise - being allowed to wander Lorenzo’s home freely. He expected the other man to follow him around, or maybe offer yet another tour of any new acquisitions from the past year, but instead Lorenzo vanishes out of sight before Alec is even up the first set of stairs.

He finds the bedroom easily enough. It’s clearly a spare for visitors, and even though it isn’t dusty or anything it’s also obvious it hasn’t been used in quite some time.Alec shifts the covers enough to lay Clary down and pull them over her, leaving the door open on his way out and back down the stairs.

Alec is about to call out to find where Lorenzo went when he hears sounds coming from a room down the hall and follows them to find Lorenzo not actually conjuring something up, but gathering ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge to cook with. A lot of ingredients.

“How many people do you plan on feeding?” Alec asks, eyebrow raised.

“Assuming your entire hoard of Shadowhunters are likely about to invade my home to speak with Clarissa when she wakes back up, at least half a dozen.” Lorenzo doesn’t even look up from what he’s chopping as he speaks.

“Oh,” Alec says, not quite sure what else to say to that. Lorenzo doesn’t seem angry about it, more resigned to the inevitability… and entirely willing, just as he was in offering Clary a proper room, to go the extra mile. Maybe he can sense how tense this entire situation is for them. Maybe he just wants to be the better person after that jab at Alec for keeping this secret, the same way he had the Soul Sword. “Thanks,” he adds. ��I know you don’t want to be doing all this.” “What can I say, Bane set quite the precedent for Shadowhunter tolerance,” Lorenzo shrugged.

“Mmhmm,” Alec hums, smiling slightly. “Though it seems like you’re doing a bit more than tolerating Underhill these days.You’ve been together the whole year since the wedding, haven’t you?” Alec hears Underhill’s side of things occasionally, but it’s rare he has a moment alone with Lorenzo that isn’t focused on some sort of official business of another.

“I suppose so,” Lorenzo confirms. “I suppose,” he continues in a would-be-casual tone. “Not to jinx it, but things are going rather well these days. Andrew is quite the charmer when he wants to be.”

Alec stifles a laugh. “Good. I was afraid after earlier-”

Lorenzo cuts Alec off with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “We’ll talk it out. We always do; this isn’t the first time he’s put his duty as a Shadowhunter before our relationship. I’d probably do the same if our roles were reversed.”

Alec shakes his head. “But you shouldn’t have to, and neither should Underhill. Ordering him to keep this a secret, I never should’ve done that. It was a bad call, and it goes against all of the transparency I’m trying to create in the Shadow World. How are you ever supposed to trust me and the rest of the Shadowhunters if we keep running around keeping secrets?”

“If you think you’re the only ones keeping secrets, Mr. Lightwood, you’re more naive than I thought,” Lorenzo states simply. “This isn’t something that’s going to stop overnight. You’re doing good work, but you’ve barely begun. You can’t undo years of systematic oppression and self-preservation with a law or two.”

He wonders if Lorenzo knows something he doesn’t, openly admitting that there are other secrets being kept in the Shadow World. Which, Alec reasons, could be almost anything. But the tone that their conversation shifts to is much more serious than it began, and he has to consider if it isn’t more of a veiled warning than a casual statement.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Alec’s phone rings, Isabelle’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey Iz, what’s up?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Magnus filled her in on where he is and what’s going on, and she wants to know what the next move is.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure anymore. You didn’t see her when she suddenly remembered Magnus… if we bring everyone here it might be too much for her all at once…”

Lorenzo looks up at that. “If I just chopped up that many fresh carrots for nothing-” he starts, falling silent when Alec holds up a finger to shush him so he can hear his sister through the phone.

“What? No, nevermind about the carrots. Listen, I know he’s going to kill me for it later, but tell Jace to stay back for now. If you and Simon want to come, that’s fine. But until we know how her memories are affecting her, and why they’re coming back, I don’t want to risk anything that’s already triggered her.” Alec pauses, listening again. “Take your time, see you when you get here.”

He hangs up, turning back to Lorenzo. “What do you think? Should I even let those two come?” He asks, curious to hear the warlock’s opinion.

Lorenzo looks shocked to be asked. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I meant what I said earlier. I can’t fix this on my own, and if I’m being honest I’m more than a little biased here, so I’d like a second opinion.” Alec says, opting for honesty this time around.

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” Lorenzo admits. “But I can’t say for certain, and neither can you. First you’re trying to keep her away from the places she’s remembering, then you’re asking her all sorts of leading questions back at Magnus’, and now you’re trying to keep her away from it again. You’re just as clueless as I am in this unfortunately unprecedented situation.”

Alec hates how right Lorenzo is, cursing his intuitive outlook and the fact that he really doesn’t shy away from telling things like they are. Alec’s trying to play the diplomat here, while balancing his personal history with Clary, and failing miserably at both. He thought for a second back there he was covering it well enough but clearly that isn’t the case.

“If there’s one thing you learn being immortal,” Lorenzo continues after Alec’s prolonged silence. “It’s adaptability. Make a plan, but don’t be afraid to change it when something new comes up and it stops working. Don’t just stick with it because you said it an hour ago.”

Alec isn’t sure how he feels about getting leadership advice from Lorenzo Rey of all people, but it’s good advice.

Alec catches himself staring at the yellow magic that Lorenzo uses, remembering the short period of time he had it at his own disposal. He thinks about that more than he cares to admit, the feel of it just under the surface of his skin, the power at his fingertips…

“Have you considered using it again?” Lorenzo asks, and Alec sees his gaze watching him watch the magic. “The alliance rune?”

Alec shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, plenty of times. But not seriously. Not after the pushback it gave the first time, and the price Clary paid for it’s creation… the Angels clearly didn’t want that to exist. I can’t ignore that a second time, not considering the potential cost for using it again.”

Lorenzo nods thoughtfully. “Do you think your Angels will allow it now, if they’re returning Clary and all of her powers back to our world?”

Alec pauses to consider that. He hadn’t thought about it before, but… maybe, just maybe…

He refuses to get his hopes up.

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Alec suggests instead of pursuing that line of thinking, though now that it’s in the back of his mind he knows it’s going to stay there for quite some time. He clears his throat to refocus. “Alright. So we stick with the plan for now and change it if we have to-”

“What plan?” Clary’s voice sounds from the doorway, causing both men to jump slightly at the unexpected sound.

“You didn’t leave,” Alec observes, pleasantly surprised. When he left her alone in that bedroom, no wards holding her in or person to keep an eye on her, he half expected her to flee the moment she woke up. He has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still here.

“I told you, I want answers, too. And it looks like you guys are the ones who have them.” She glances around. “Where’s Magnus?”

Alec and Lorenzo share a look of concern. Clary seems okay at first, but the longer she thinks about him, trying to remember the warlock and what happened before, the more Alec sees the discomfort grow in her expression.

“He isn’t here. We didn’t want you to be in any more pain if we could help it. The remembering hurts, doesn’t it?” Alec asks, knowing it’s a stupid question but wanting to hear the answer from her just the same.

Clary nods. “The first time is the worst. If it’s just a piece of something I can mostly ignore it. But if it’s something big, or all of it at once… well, it sucks. I mean, you saw me, did I pass out again?”

Alec stores that knowledge away while Lorenzo cringes a bit from behind a boiling pot on the stove. “Ahhh, actually, Miss Fairchild, that was my doing. I… incapacitated you before the pain could. Both times.”

“Oh,” Clary says, and Alec’s afraid she might actually run at that news. “Thanks, I guess?”

“You really do trust us, don’t you?” Alec asks, amazed and confused but also more than a little grateful for it.

Clary nods. “I do. I shouldn’t, but… here we are. Me in a house with two strangers who have ‘incapacitated’ and kidnapped me twice now. If I don’t end up on some procedural cop show a year from now it’ll be a miracle.”

There’s the unmistakable sound of a portal in the living room and all three of their heads turn towards it.

“What’s that?” Clary asks, immediately taking a step back.

Alec looks at her with a cautious grin. “How do you feel about meeting a few more old friends?”

“Do I have a choice?” Clary says, taking a deep breath.

Alec considers this, and then nods. “Yes. You do. Say the word and they’re gone.”

Clary hesitates. There are voices now, calling out for Alec. A girl and a guy.

Alec watches Clary carefully as the initial fear fades to the stubborn determination he remembers her so well for; a flash of the old Clary if he ever saw one.

“No… it’s fine. I’m fine,” she says with a resolute nod, and Alec is positive she’s trying to convince herself more than him, but lets it go. “Let’s do this.”

#alec lightwood #lorenzo rey #clary fray #shadowhunters #isabelle lightwood #SORRY IT'S A BIT OF A FILLER CHAPTER #but we're establishing ~relationships~ here #and stay tuned next week for some very feelsy Simon POV! <3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

16 notes · View notes

anchanted-one · 5 years ago

Text

Eternal War 29. Growing Pains

Four months later.

Senya was a master of the sword of the Zakuulan school. She had beaten countless opponents over the years, and some had called her the greatest blademaster of the age. But now she sparred with the Jedi Battlemaster Arro Silver. His skill was unparalleled. Even her own teacher Shoyisa, the Unrelenting Master of the Blade, would be no match for him. Her respect for him grew with each exchange, and she began to allow that this man really had beaten Valkorion in fair combat. Thrice, if you counted the times he beat the Sith Emperor who was an avatar of Valkorion. Lana hadn't been lying. Or exaggerating. His rispostes were perfect, his reflexes lightning-fast, his attacks nigh-unstoppable.

Read on AO3

And what was more important, people respected him for his abilities. His accomplishments. Jedi and Sith, Imperial and Republic, there was no difference. Senya had seen a lot of these men and women before, and she could tell just how much their morale had lifted just by seeing their old hero again. And that had been before this duel. They had realized that the stories simply could not match the man himself. Even the exiles and rebels from Zakuul were now firm believers.

Lana had been right, so right. It wasn't just his skill that was important, it was his effect as a symbol. He brought hope to a fight most had given up on winning.

Arro pivoted, abruptly changing the angle of his attack at the last possible second, then scored five more hits on her arms and chest before he finally knocked her training saber out of her hand.

"I yield," she said, panting. Laughing. How long since she had been pushed so hard like this? Senya thought that he could defeat Darth Prowle at her best, even as he was now. How good would he be at *his* best?

As their audience burst into applause, she regarded the Jedi, who seemed to be fighting off the pain again. "I dearly hope we never have to fight for keeps, someday, Commander," she addressed him. "I've never been at such a disadvantage before."

"I'll say!" Vortena chimed in. "You looked like you were trying to paddle a ship in the rapids with only your hand!" She fought the impulse to glare at him. She had to admit, he was probably right.

"Beautiful Display, Battlemaster!" the Sith Lord Darth Sapphirus rumbled. "Truly magnificent!"

"Thank you, Lord Sapphirus," Arro acknowledged.

Senya took a few sips from the bottle Lem had offered her, watching for a while as the throng of admirers congratulated him on his skill. She was starting to have a great feeling about their chances.

It took a while before the crowd melted away, going back to their own business. Lana, TeeSeven, Theron Shan and Hylo Wisz were some of the few other than Koth who remained. In her typical fashion, Lana managed to look only professionally pleased rather than exultant as someone might expect of someone who had just seen how awesome her husband was.

"That went even better than I had hoped!" She beamed. "I never expected Darth Sapphirus of all people to cheer that hard!" TeeSeven trilled an excited agreement, saying how wonderful it had been to watch him spar again.

"That makes me wonder how you failed to beat Arcann on Asylum," Koth said. "Senya did say that he's far stronger than her but less skilled. But you should have been able to take him."

"It's the carbon poisoning," Lana said. "It still affects him. The pain spiked just as he was about to finish off Arcann."

"What...? Oh Hell! Dammit!" Now that she mentioned it, the reason was obvious! "But that's a huge liability, what if it happens again? You inspired a lot of people today, but if your body fails you again, Arcann will kill you. And the same people will end up *losing* all that hope!"

"It worries me as well," Lana said. "I don't like having to just pray that nothing happens when you face Arcann the next time."

She tried and failed to hide the note of anguish she felt at the thought. Not for the first time, he felt envious of the Outlander, to have managed to so firmly earn the love of this ice-cold woman. While he was certain she could have just as easily fallen in love with someone else, Koth doubted she'd ever turn the galaxy upside down trying to save them the way she had Arro. For the first few months he had thought that she was lying about Arro, that she simply wanted to save her love. Over time, he had come to accept that Lana was too pragmatic to go that far out of the way even for someone she loved.

But he had still wondered on occasion, as recently as their escape from Zakuul. Arro had shown his nobility, but Lana still had had to lend a shoulder for him to lean on from time to time just to walk; he'd been that weak. He had certainly never put on the display he had today.

He had come to share Lana's faith in Arro's skills and presence. He had even come to ardently admire the heroism that had led Arro to risk his own life to save so many Zakuulans within hours of his escape. He hadn't realized until much later just how much of a risk it had been. Koth felt certain that even he himself couldn't have made the call that Arro had.

"It's certainly a problem," Arro said. "But I won't be facing Arcann again for some time now. I will work with Oggurobb and Sana-Re, maybe even visit the Shrine of Healing on Voss. But we needn't worry ourselves sick right now. We move a step at a time."

Their collective relief was so clear that a dead man could have felt it.

Later that day, Arro stood in the War Room along with Lana, Theron, Koth, Senya, Hylo and Admiral Aygo. The day’s reports from their allies and teams across the Galaxy.

“Choza Raabat from Alderaan,” the Ithorian on the other end of the transmission reported. “I am pleased to report that we have finished stockpiling supplies. We will be ready to storm the bunker at your signal.”

“Veeroa Denz here,” said the Nautolan woman. “The teams on Nar Shadda are standing by.”

“Hemdil Tre from Hoth. We on Hoth are ready.”

“This is Leyta reporting from Tatooine. We are ready to begin.”

“Rokuss speaks. We Gormak are are ready to strike alongside our Voss brethren.”

“K’korohl here, from Belsavis. A day or a year, we will be ready when you give the word.”

“Excellent.” Arro approved. “I promise, it won’t be a year—a month at most. Once we begin, things will get intense, so remember to eat your vitamins, everybody!”

They all chuckled politely as they disconnected.

The reports were good beyond all expectations: teams on Coruscant, Corellia, Dromund Kaas, Begeren, Dromund Fels, and hundreds of worlds—Republic and Sith—had gathered all the necessary supplies and would continue training. When they received the word, all teams would mobilize at once. In a series of coordinated strikes unprecedented in their scale, these teams would attack the Shield Bunkers protecting every last one of the Star Fortresses, heralding the start of the Alliance’s major offensive against the tyranny of Zakuul.

Up until now, they had been playing a game of cat-and-mouse, small-scale sabotage and infiltrations, testing Zakuul’s defenses and their own new technology developed by Oggurobb. There had been a few defeats, but the shadow campaign Lana and Theron had helped Arro concoct had been overwhelmingly successful.

“Well,” Theron shook his head in wonder. “It’s all coming together! And so quickly too!”

“It was thanks to the intel Lana secured for us,” Aygo grinned. “We never would have gotten this far without it!”

“But it’s not just the intel,” Lana said. “Imagine us having gained the resources to tackle all those Fortresses in a single Operation! This is beyond what I had hoped for!”

“All that’s left is for Jorgan and Havoc to identify where on Zakuul our first strike should land,” Arro said. “When we finally strike, we need to hit as hard as possible.”

“And that’s yet another thing I can’t believe,” Senya said. “That your actions at the reactor could cause such a stir. For an Outlander, you have gathered a decent following on Zakuul as well!”

“That was only because Vaylin was the one who caused that incident,” Theron said. “In one move she showed that she was a danger, and the Outlander a friend.”

“Yep!” Koth said proudly. “It’s like I always said; it’s destiny, plain and simple! It was meant to be! We’re gonna win this.”

Above the skies of Zakuul, hundreds of rows of Eternal Warships were on display in impressive fashion. They seemed to be a cloud around the outer Atmosphere of Zakuul—around the Spire of the Golden Heavens, daunting in their size and a loud statement of invincibility.

Vaylin stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, Akahte on her heel. They strode together down the corridor, a dozen Knights standing guard on each side.

Arcann wasn’t happy. He never was anymore. His forces forever seemed on the back foot nowadays, the Outlander’s Alliance running circles around his people. “You return empty-handed, again!”

“I missed you,” Vaylin smiled. Her voice was playful, but her fury was bubbling just beneath the surface.

“The Outlander, the Gravestone, where are they?”

“Patrols in five sectors report no sign of either!” Vaylin sang. “Perhaps they’re just figments of our imagination!”

Arcann paced and seethed before his throne. “Someone knows the truth!” After thinking for a few minutes, he stopped pacing, and sat down very determinedly on the Throne.

“I know that look,” Vaylin teased. “You’re about to order something wonderful!”

“Choose one heavily populated planet in each of the five sectors. Take the fleet to each of them and commence orbital bombardment.”

“For how long?”

“Til’ they’re dust. Someone knows, someone will talk. But only if they are given reason to.”

Akahte could see the cruel delight on Vaylin’s face as they left to carry out Arcann’s order. She wanted this. But just as they prepared to board the shuttle, Vaylin stopped with sudden hesitation, and indicated that Akahte halt as well.

“Yes, Vaylin?”

“You don’t have to come with me,” Vaylin said softly. “This isn’t the path you hoped I would take.”

“Maybe not, but if you’re decided, then I set my opinions aside. I live only for you now. I will do whatever you ask of me.”

“Then I ask that you remain here,” Vaylin said. She sounded… sad. Conflicted. “I can no longer be the girl you deserve, and it would pain me for you to witness just how different I am from her.”

Akahte felt cold. “As you wish, Vaylin. But remember that I will always love you, always be proud of you. And if you end up thinking that this is the wrong path after all, you can change it—now, or in the future—and I will be waiting for you. I will always continue to hope”

Vaylin gave a soft gasp and pulled Akahte in a passionate kiss that Akahte eagerly returned. They broke apart, both trembling slightly, both with tears unexpectedly rolling down their cheeks.

Face flushed, Vaylin whispered. “This is the only path I have left to take. All others have been closed to me. I am a monster.” Glutton. Chimaera. “No matter how much I change, I will always revert at the end of the day.”

“You give yourself too little credit,” Akahte reassured her. “One day, you will see yourself the way I do—that every breath you take is in defiance to the man who tried to make you into that monster. That you are a wondrous, incredible young woman, strong—and in more than just in the Force. I will wait for you here on Zakuul. I will be here when you are ready to try again… and Vaylin? I love you so much!”

#swtor #star wars #fanfic #Anchanted-one #Eternal War #OC: Arro #OC: Akahte #lana beniko #Theron Shan #Koth Vortena #senya tirall #Arcann #Vaylin #Swtorhub

5 notes · View notes

itsthejuggernautbitch · 6 years ago

Text

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter seven!

We’re getting close! Three more chapters after this one! (And don’t worry, the next chapter will be long. An apology for the long wait.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else @ptite-shit @lesbianyondu @chromecutie @gallifreyangrandtorino @ra-ra-rasputiin @akihecko @bigstarlightkingdom @buckyjefferson @lenavonschweetz

Colossus wasn't expecting Vivian to return to the mansion so soon, but when she rang the doorbell of the X-Mansion, he welcomed her with open arms. She'd been to the mansion twice in one year, an unprecedented event. Colossus was almost astounded - almost.

Colossus brightened considerably upon answering the door. “This is unexpected.”

Vivian had made her decision. Colossus knew what her answer would be, it was just a matter of when. And apparently when was now.

Vivian raised an eyebrow. "Is it unexpected, though?"

Colossus shrugged. "Not really. But I am glad to see you!"

"I'm glad to see you, too," Vivian replied. She crossed her arms, peering past Colossus into the depths of the mansion. “Can I come in?”

Colossus sensed that something was wrong, but he knew Vivian. She wouldn't answer his questions if he asked her how she was doing. She'd have to tell him on her own, if she told him anything at all.

“Of course.”

He put on a pot of coffee, busying himself with finding two clean mugs. "Am I correct to assume this is about our previous discussion?"

"You are correct, as you always are," Vivian replied, taking the coffee mug from him. The mug was purple with little flowers that spelled Ellie on it. The coffee was just how Colossus knew she liked it - black, two sugars. "I'll do it."

Colossus was quite honestly surprised to get such a glib answer from her. She could be blunt, but this was decisiveness to the point of uncharacteristic. "I will be honest, Vivian. I did not expect your answer so soon."

She almost rolled her eyes. "You knew I would say yes."

"Hoped, not knew."

Vivian swirled the coffee around in her mug. "Well, as soon as my lease is up, I'll get moved in here."

Colossus didn't drink coffee. He'd made tea for himself, which he took a delicate sip of. "That is more than acceptable. I will have your room ready."

"Rooms, as in plural. I need your help."

Ah, there it was. Colossus was surprised that she'd gotten to the point so quickly. It made him nervous.

"Anything, Vivian. You only need ask."

"Benji and Shelly both have mutations. I need to get them away from Jack."

Colossus set his mug down on the kitchen table. "Has something happened?"

"No, Shelly says he doesn't know." Vivian drained the rest of her mug. "But accidents happen, and if he finds out… You saw what he did to me. I can't imagine what he'll do to them."

"You do not have to lift a finger," Colossus replied. "We will go get them. No court order has bearing on us."

"Just get them away safely…"

"And I'd like to speak to Jack myself... You never let me near him."

Colossus being his gentlemanly self... It was the first time in a week Vivian had smiled. Perhaps she should have let him confront Jack all those years ago. It didn't matter now, and it was probably better that he hadn't. Colossus would take care of whatever she needed.

"Don't kill him, big guy. Although I appreciate the brotherly sentiment."

Colossus looked appalled, though it was mostly just a put-on. "Kill him? Never! Hurt his feelings... different story."

Vivian started collecting the mugs from the table to put them in the sink. If she was going to live here again, she supposed that this was just the beginning of her chore list. "I trust you, Piotr."

"I know. I will see that they are safe. It won't be today, but once I have a plan, I will take care of it."

Vivian hugged him, the first time she'd done so since she was a teenager. "Thank you."

Wade never claimed to be much of a planner. He was more of a do-er, a man of action - shoot first, think later. His method of firing random bullets at life had worked well for him for the past few decades, although “well” was more or less a subjective term. Nevertheless, his man-of-action method usually got him about as far as he needed to go. In fact, sometimes it worked so well that he could even talk a girl as stubborn as a mule into going back to work.

Wade managed to talk Vivian into pulling her shift that night via his "shoot until you hit something" method. He had to cry a little bit to convince her, but once he got one of those Cry-Baby tears to roll down his cheek (he could see his handiwork in the window reflection behind her head), Vivian gave in. And he may have threatened to tell Weasel her address.

Vivian had taken up her usual spot in the backroom. She’d had more than enough clients for the night to make up for her absence over the past week. In fact, some of the usual miscreants had let their minor wounds fester until she came back. Puckered, greenish stab holes were not what she’d hoped to see that night. Really, she’d hoped to fix a few broken bones, grab a drink, and make Wade or one of his buddies drive her home.

But things never really seemed to work out the way she wanted them to.

Both Weasel and Wade had been in and out of the backroom all night, which was strange because usually Wade had a job well before midnight and Weasel was too busy managing the bar. But they’d both been fluttering in and out, asking if she needed any supplies or a drink. She couldn’t tell if they were catering to her because she was back or because they were afraid she might leave. Wade had even sat in on a meeting with a patient who had to get his broken arm reset (the screaming was awful).

In any case, Vivian usually closed up shop around 2:00 AM, so when she got a knock on the door directly after that, she was a little perturbed. And it didn’t get any better, because when Vivian opened the door, it was Cable on the other side.

She paused, sighed, and shook her head. “Not happening.”

She shut the door again, but try as she might, she just couldn’t ignore the soft knock that sounded about a minute later. Like he’d hesitated, maybe even turned around to walk away, but thought better of it.

It was only when he knocked a third time, even more softly than the last, that she finally opened the door again.

She crossed her arms and stared him dead in the eye, wondering idly how many people had ever done that and not been stabbed. “If you’re not bleeding, the answer is no, you can’t come in.”

Cable grimaced a little, but didn’t flinch otherwise. “Can I at least apologize?”

“I don’t want an apology. I want an explanation.”

“The explanation is part of the apology.”

She signed again, more out of annoyance for herself than anything, but she stepped aside to let him in. “Fine. Come in.”

Honestly, Cable didn't have much of a game plan. He didn't think he'd get this far. He didn't think he'd even make it through the backroom door.

He hovered next to the examination chair, supremely uncomfortable. “I guess you have questions.”

Vivian stood directly in front of him, arms crossed. She glared at him, incredulous. “Uh, yeah?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I just-” he sighed. “Maybe if you just ask me-”

“Alright. Why did you kiss me if you’re married? Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married in the first place? I would have left you alone and I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself.”

"I... I don't know how to explain-"

"You've got ten seconds to figure it out before I walk out that door and leave you here to mop the blood off the floor for Weasel."

She tapped her foot, waiting for his response.

“I’m from the future,” he began, finally sitting down in the exam chair. He'd been on the receiving end of interrogations before, and this sure did feel like one. “I came here to save my wife and daughter. In my timeline, they were murdered.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about your family.”

“I saved them - I think,” Cable replied. He stared at the wall, as if his mind was somewhere distant. “I had one charge left to get home, but I made the choice to use it to save your buddy Wade and stick around to stop the world from going to shit.”

Vivian, ever relentless, continued. “So if you consider yourself to be still married then why did you even entertain the idea of being more than friends?”

Cable stared back at her, doing his best to maintain the air of cool, calm, and collected - none of which he could say he actually was. “I take solace in the hope that I did my job and saved my family. My wife... I don’t think she'd want me to be stuck here miserable and alone. I don’t… But I didn’t think I’d even meet someone here I could… feel something for… in the way that I felt for her.”

She stared at him silently for a while, brown eyes searching his face for something unknown. She'd long since memorized the lines of his face - every scar, line, and mark - from their talks. She was looking for something more than skin-deep.

“I’m sorry Wade pushed you into my lap.”

“He didn’t push me," Cable said. "And I’m glad he brought me here.”

Vivian sat down in her chair, finally at eye level with him. She stayed a careful distance away - a safe distance away. Enough distance that she didn’t feel like getting up to hug him.

“I was raised in the X-Mansion. I left when I was eighteen because I was determined to go off to college and become a doctor. I got pregnant when I was twenty, got married, had my son. Made it through college. A year into medical school, I got pregnant again, which leaves something to be said about the quality of sex education at the X-Mansion because I obviously didn’t know how to make my ex-husband put on a condom.”

Cable’s eyebrow was quirked, but he didn’t say anything.

“When my son was nine, he got hit by a car. I came home to a yard full of sirens and flashing lights. I never thought he would be in the back of one, but he was. His leg was crushed and his lung burst. I managed to heal his lung and correct some of the damage to his leg.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’s fine now. My ex-husband found out. He didn’t know I was a mutant, you see. He figured it out because how does one explain this kind of miracle, but for mutant abilities. He served me with divorce papers the next day, took both of my kids, called the hospital where I worked and had them fire me. I lost my kushy, fancy job that I loved and worked hard at, and I lost my kids. They live about two miles from here, and I don’t get to see them unless my ex-husband doesn’t show up to something.”

Cable didn't quite know what to say to that.

“We make a pair, don’t we?”

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

They sat in silence for a while, not much else to say. Finally, Vivian reached out and took his hands in hers, but didn't say anything.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. What do I have to do to fix this?”

“Take me home.”

Again, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Not like that. I’m done for the night and I haven’t slept in days anyway. Just come and spend some time with me away from this dump where we can talk. This is not unsalvageable, but we need to work through some things first.”

Cable nodded. “Alright.”

When Vivian opened the door, she found a wall of people with their ears pressed to the wood. Several of them teetered and backed up, one of them fell flat on his face. Wade and Weasel were at the forefront, bar abandoned.

She rolled her eyes. “Y’all are some nosey bastards.”

Vivian climbed into the cab of Cable’s truck. The seats were soft, cushioned leather upholstery, cracked from age and peeling in places. The dash was equally as cracked and peeling - and a little sticky from sitting out in the hot sun. She had no idea what model it could be; she barely drove enough to know the model of her own car. Nevertheless, the front cab of the truck was comfortable and smelled like leather.

“I like this truck. It’s got character.”

When Cable crunk it up, it stalled a bit before roaring to life. “Stole it about a year ago from some hicks outside of town.”

“Yeah, seems more suited to hauling around a dog and a cooler of beer than Marty McFly and his futuristic supersoldier weapons.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Vivian kicked her shoes off and put her feet up on the dashboard. “Back to the Future? Don’t worry, Wade and I will make you watch it. Are movies even still a thing where… when… you’re from?”

He smirked, amused by her familiarity. “Yeah, but I never had much time for them.”

“Well, you do now.”

Vivian rolled down her window to breathe the night air. The city was stale and damp, but the smell got less and less oppressive the further away they got from the red light district where Sister Margaret's was located. Skyscrapers gave way to office buildings and medical facilities. Parking decks became gated lots. And the closer they got to the interstate exit, the more Vivian didn't want to go home yet.

They rolled to a stop at the light.

Vivian caught his attention. “Hey, turn left here.”

“I thought we go right?”

“Just go with it.”

He turned left.

They drove until they were no longer in the city, until the skyscrapers and concrete and steel gave way to rolling hills and green fields and unnamed crops. Both of them had been silent since they left the city. They filled the silence with the sound of the radio, the breeze rushing through the open windows, and the cool night breeze filling the cab of the truck.

“Pull into that field.”

Cable did as she asked and pulled into the field, careful to tread only where he could already see the tracks of some farmer’s truck. Vivian reached into the backseat and grabbed her bag and jacket, along with a couple of Cable’s utility rolls and a worn denim jacket she found wedged up next to a pillow.

Cable watched her collect all of the stuff from his backseat. “What are you doing?”

“Humor me.”

She got out of the truck, let down the back gate, and threw everything into the bed of the truck, arranging it until the makeshift bed was relatively comfy. She marched back around to the passenger’s side and stuck her head in the window. She reached across the cab to turn up the radio, fiddling with the knobs until she found a station she was satisfied with.

“You coming?” she asked.

Cable blinked, but the corners of his mouth turned up into the barest hint of a real smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian crawled up into the bed of the truck, clutching the denim jacket like a blanket. She leaned against the back window so that she could stare up at the sky. Cable climbed into the bed after her and settled in close next to her, his arm just barely brushing hers. The stars were bright, glittering like diamonds in the night sky.

“This makes me feel like a kid again,” Vivian said, pulling the denim jacket up under her chin. It smelled spicy - not dirty or musty, but worn and masculine and comfortable. “Growing up, my friends and I used to ride out into the fields and sit out arounds for hours listening to music and staring up at the stars.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“I grew up down south, until my mutation showed up. I think I was twelve or thirteen when I went to live at the X-Mansion. We used to sneak out late at night and come out here.”

“You can’t see the stars in my time.”

Vivian looped her arm through his, tucking his arm under the jacket with her. “Ten points for the past, then. It’s not so bad here.”

Cable looked down at her. “Not so bad at all.”

The song playing over the radio was an older country song - maybe Patsy Cline or some other old crooner. Vivian almost never used the radio anymore (too many commercials, not enough music). And she’d be hard-pressed to choose a country station if she did choose the radio, but there was something pleasant about the late-night country music radio shows - the ones that played the old, slow songs rather than the cute, pop-country party songs.

“You never really answered me earlier," Vivian said. "Why didn’t you tell me you were married? What made you think about… this? About me, I guess.”

“What would you have done if I told you I was married?”

“Honestly? Wouldn’t have come near you - beyond a professional capacity, of course.”

“I thought I’d processed things," Cable replied, staring off into the sky. "Come to terms with the fact that I’ll never see them again - that she wouldn’t want me to be alone and miserable.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She is.”

“Why me, then?”

“You have compassion. Determination. Patience. I respect that. Why’d you reciprocate?”

“You’re heartfelt, even when you don’t mean to be. You’re not pushy. And you're funny, in your own way.”

Cable chuckled. "I've never been called funny."

"And I've never been called patient, but we see things in others that we don't see in ourselves." Vivian took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Name’s Nathan. Nathan Summers.”

“Duly noted.”

Vivian snuggled into his side, the weight of his arm warm and comforting. They stayed like that for about an hour, until Vivian was starting to doze off.

Cable carefully extricated himself from her grip, gently nudging her awake. “I guess we should go.”

Vivian yawned. “Yeah. I’m gonna end up falling asleep on the way back.”

“Go ahead - I’ll get us back to your place.”

The ride going home was much longer than the ride out to the field, as it always was. Vivian must have slept the whole ride because she didn't remember ever giving Cable directions. Nevertheless, Cable got them home in one piece and without shaking her awake.

When they pulled up to Vivian's apartment, Cable parked in one of the front spaces. He waited for her to grab her bag and jacket out of the back of the cab. She started to shrug the denim jacket off.

“You can keep the jacket,” Cable said. “It looks good on you.”

Vivian couldn't resist teasing him a little. “So you like when I wear your clothes?”

“Well, I guess I do.”

Vivian climbed down, and before she shut the door, she had a thought. Normally, she'd wouldn't be quite so keen on having someone stay the night right after an argument, but with his job being as dangerous as it was and her inability to stay awake some nights, now seemed as good a time as any.

She turned back to look at him. "Hey, uh, it's late, and I'd hate for you to have to drive back to… wherever you live… So, if you want to stay…"

Vivian couldn't call it a smile, but the corners of his mouth turned up in something close. "I've got nowhere to be. Be glad to."

She mirrored his grin. "Well, come on in then, cowboy."

#cable #cable headcanons #cable x reader #cable imagines #MCU!cable #deadpool #deadpool headcanons #deadpool imagines #MCU!Deadpool

22 notes · View notes