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coldeyesandredlips · 4 years ago

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Part 2.

The orange flames danced in front of my eyes, the glow of the fire doing remotely nothing to warm the coldness that had been enclosed around my heart.

My mind spiralled into unwanted territory, as my thoughts wandered to the letter my 6 year old self had found that terrorizing night.

"By the time you read this, Aza, I'll be gone."

"Don't let them bring you down, it wasn't your fault."

"Avenge my death, Azerella Rose, for I have faith in you."

"So why did you bring me back here?" A deep voice floated over the uncomfortable silence that had settled. I didn't bother to turn around and answer him.

"To make a friend."

I turned my head to the side just to catch the strange boy from before roll his eyes, in what I would say annoyance, and slump back in the chair I had told him to sit on.

"You didn't think I'd let you go without figuring out your motives, right? I thought you were a tad bit smart when you obeyed to follow me quietly."

"BECAUSE YOU THREATENED TO GAUGE MY EYEBALLS OUT!"

"Stop yelling or I'll let you sleep out in the open."

"Fine." He grumbled, closing his eyes. "But really, you could have just let me out there in the open. I am sure you don't even like me enough."

"Don't even go there, stalker. I figured it was late and your sorry ass wouldn't find its way back. Also, I don't dislike you—I feel absolutely nothing for you. Hell, I don't even know you."

"We could get to know each other." He smiled mischievously, looking down at my hunched figured infront of the fireplace.

"I'll pass." I stumped down the urge to smirk at the perplexed look on his face.

"Why don't you have friends?" He asked, as I ignored him.

"This place is nice. Did you decorate it all by yourself?" The thing was, there wasn't a single "decoration" in plain sight. His attempt at holding a conversation once again went ignored.

"Do you—?" What was with all this questions? I shot him an irritated look and he quietened down instantly.

"No, listen." I shot him another disbelieving look, as he sheepishly smiled and held out a finger. "Do you live here, all alone?" His facial expression turned serious as he uttered out the words.

"I, under any circumstances, do not have to answer you. You aren't that special." I stood up from my crouched position, dusting the non-existent dirt off my jacket.

"You don't, but I won't stop pestering you— my kidnapper, until you give me a straight answer."

"I am not your fucking kidnapper. You aren't special enough to be kidnapped, either." I growled out, as he shifted back in his seat uncomfortably.

He cleared his throat, standing up to his full height. Even though I stood at a proud height of 5'8, he towered over me. But that didn't bother me in the slightest. Looking at his physic, he definitely had the strength. If he was trained properly, he could be a real threat in the battlefield.

Who knows, he perhaps was.

"I am sorry, that came out wrong." He bowed down his head, looking like the perfect picture of innocence.

There was more to him than just what he was trying to show me.

"I-" he hesitated. "I should not have followed you, it is your choice as to whatever you do, wherever you go." I kept a straight face, as he gazed into my eyes with utmost respect and sincerity.

"I appreciate you helping me out, by not leaving me out in the open, even if you weren't obliged to do so, at all."

"I come here when I am not feeling, the best, you can say." I chuckled humorlessly, answering his previous question. His eyebrows creased in confusion.

"No one comes out here, no one that I know of, guess I was certainly wrong about it." I raised an eyebrow at him, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"But, doesn't it get lonely, for you?" He whispered, and leaned in closer.

It's.." I stopped, looking away from his intense gaze. "It's peaceful, out here, all alone. You won't feel what it's like being lonely when you have been alone all your life." I replied, straighting up and pushing at his chest to create some distance between us.

"What do you mean?" He asked immediately, not seeming to be aware of the fact that he was testing my patience. My hand shifted upwards, drawing closer to his neck, as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"What is your motive, Rezien Knight? Who sent you after me?" I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, to hold him in place.

He didn't shrug it off.

"How do you know my name?" He suddenly became alert, the friendly expression closing off and the shyness from before melting away completely.

Never underestimate even your weakest opponent, truly, but never underestimate what you yourself are capable of, too.

I trained myself to be a weapon, a powerful one at that. In moments of danger, one can survive. But in wars, only those win, who cannot afford to loose.

"What, don't tell me you thought I wouldn't recognize you?" I smirked at him, tugging his face closer to me as his eyes narrowed down on my face.

I for a fact didn't know who he was, but he didn't need to know that small detail.

"Just, who are you?" He breathed out, eyes shining with agitation and if I wasn't wrong, fascination?

"Azerella Rose, and for the time being, refer to me as a threat."

—coldeyesandredlips.

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

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Stronger Than Blood (8)

Chapter 8: Bound by Fate or by Blood? | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

Also tagging @ayamenimthiriel

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

Apparently, the only reinforcement they needed was the Purge Trooper. His kind was specifically made for Jedi—but you were an exception.

“You’re no Jedi,” the trooper points out, brandishing his twin batons. He points one at you. “But the Emperor says you’re a prize!”

Your weapon’s caliber is a bar below his batons, but that didn’t falter your will. Positioning yourself in a defensive stance with your techstaff in front of you, buckling your knees and keeping your grip firm.

“Ha! Don’t make me laugh, kid!” the Purge Trooper sniggered.

“I wasn’t trying to!”

Slightly impressed by your determination, he lunged towards you in a deadly nimbleness, you barely afforded a second to react. Deflecting him in the last minute resulted in a flimsy block that you leaned backwards, accepting all his weight onto you. With little strength you could gather, you pushed him away so you could reset your stance.

Finally, you were able to trade strikes with this black-armored Purge Trooper; though, as much as you hate to admit it, he was more skilled than you were. Granted, he’s probably received top-notch quality his whole life, while you only survived and learned through street and cantina brawls.

I can’t shake him… He’s trying to tire me out!

Meanwhile, the Stormtroopers who received the radio call saying that you were spotted in the caves was a red herring. Cal almost wondered if this was an elaborate trap to separate the two of you. Now he’s stuck with facing off the Stormtroopers stationed there before getting to you.

The comms gauntlet of the Stormtrooper he just downed beeped, in a miraculous convenience, and the voice of another trooper fizzled through the reception.

“Insurgent found in the village. Purge Trooper RF-4756 already engaging her.” The voice calmly reported, indicating that he’s only standing by and watching the fight ensue.

“Gotcha!” Cal exclaimed under his breath and headed for the elevator that leads out to closest point to the village.

Unfortunately, he was hindered by the creatures and troopers—who were on high alert—who spotted him in the caves. He tried to make quick work of them, just so he wouldn’t have the stress of being tailed by enemies—especially troopers—when they’re headed to one common destination. But the Stormtroopers accompanied by a single, lance-wielding Purge Trooper, held Cal back from reaching you.

In his burst of adrenaline, he struck his fist against the soil, sending off an energy wave of Force against his surrounding enemies and disorienting them. Before they could stand up, Cal cut them down and rushed for the elevator, avoiding the Jotaz and the other creatures that stood in his way to the lift.

“I don’t have time for this!” he grumbled, evading the charging Phillak and immediately cut down the Scazz as he ran past it.

The elevator hummed and rumbled when Cal’s boot weighted against the pressure plate. The lift was slow, but he kept jostling himself, antsy and impatient—it took a single beep from BD-1, apparently asking if you could be alright, to calm him down.

“I hope she is,”

The Purge Trooper wasn’t having any of it today, although he made it seem like a game. You scarcely made a dent on him, he continuously deflected your strikes and forcefully hammered his batons against both ends of your staff. For a body so slender, the amount of strength he puts on his attacks was staggering.

“Good night!” he snarled and tossed out a stasis bomb to your way.

You were too late to remove yourself out of its blast radius. You’re caught in the net—the static current numbed your muscles as they wrapped around your calves like vines until it crawled all the way up to your body, further halting the movement of your torso and then arms and eventually your neck.

You watched your opponent walk over the static field unaffected, he pommeled you across the cheekbone, knocking you out while you’re immobilized. He nudged your stomach with the tip of his boot. Your fingers were slightly twitching, but he saw you’re out cold. He presses a single button on his gauntlet.

“I’ve apprehended the Emperor’s prize,” he reported. “Requesting transport shuttle.”

“Confirmed, RF-4756. Please indicate area coordinates.”

A transport shuttle shortly arrived to the planet, hovering by the cliffside of the village’s edge. The Purge Trooper scooped you up, carrying you like a sack. From the distance, Cal heard the engine of a ship from his current location; he followed the general direction of the gray ship he spotted. He immediately knew where it’s headed, but he arrived too little too late.

“NO!! [Y/N]!!”

“Jedi! Over there!”

A row of Stormtroopers barred him again. Cal’s finding it quite vexing to find enemies standing in his way when things are most dire. He spotted the transport by the cliff, he saw your unconscious body carried over the Purge Trooper’s shoulders as he enters the ship.

“NO!!”

He quickly slowed down the windmill to cross over the gap, but the transport ship was already hovering away from the edge, the gap became more and more impassable as it stretched. Cal watched the ship gain altitude, he immediately went through the shortcut leading back to the Mantis on the landing pad.

“Cere!” he called through the commlink. “They’ve taken [y/n]! Do you see the transport ship?!”

“Yes, I see it!” Cere replied, her barking orders bled through Cal’s commlink. “Captain, prepare for take off! I’ll see if I can make a backdoor to their communications. Hurry back!”

“Already am!”

Meanwhile, in the ship where you’re held captive, the Purge Trooper ordered the pilots to set a course for Mustafar.

“I’m getting the payday of a lifetime!” the Purge Trooper boasted.

“Is it the Jedi?” one of the pilots dared asking.

“No, it’s the other one,”

The two pilots exchanged glances, despite their nearly-opaque helmet visors, each one could immediately tell which “other one” the trooper was referring to. Neither of them said a word, as much as they wanted to, and charted the course to the volcanic planet.

The Purge Trooper RF-4756, overly proud of himself and excited to show off his achievement, slumped on the other chair behind the pilot’s seat. Not bothering to understand what flashing symbols meant on the secondary dashboard screens, he rested his feet over them, leaned back against the seat—quite far enough to make the backrest bend—and cushioned his head with his hands.

——————————————————–

It has probably been hours since you were out cold.

You wake up to find yourself in a prison cell, you’re settled on a bed; not exactly queen-sized as you had hoped—much to your disappointment—it was only a big slab of duraplast painted black, big enough to fit an adult individual. Quite spacious for a single prisoner, though.

“One star for the room quality,” you grumbled sarcastically as you massaged your calves, the static still felt fresh hours later.

You surveyed the entire room—black metal walls with panels for the light to pass through, a sturdy-looking blast door, and of course, the miserable excuse of a bed.

There were no cuffs around your ankles or wrists, expecting that you were, but you supposed that they put all of their faith with the architecture of this cell. The hums that spoke through the wall was stale and inorganic, metal clattered from the water that dripped from the open pipes was so rhythmic that it helped you relax. You decided to stand and walk off the remaining numbness in your legs, you slowly stalked towards the door—feeling the presence of the pair of guards standing in the other side.

You slowly angled your head so your ear faces the door and eavesdropped on the banter borne of their boredom in the silence of the cell block.

“So, let me get this straight: this prisoner can use the Force… but isn’t a Jedi? I thought only Jedi can do that kind of stuff!”

“Yeah well, I don’t understand it either—and frankly, I don’t plan to. I heard from the report she didn’t have their kind of weapon, she only used a staff of some sort—looks hand-made.”

“But for someone that isn’t Jedi, the price on her head is kinda steep, don’t ya think?”

“Yeah, I heard that it’s way above the pay grade. I’m guessing the pay grade of an admiral times five,”

“Wha—!? That IS higher than anybody’s rates! That’s ridiculous! What’s so special about her, anyway?”

The indifferent Stormtrooper incoherently grumbled, you wagered he simply shrugged his shoulders just for this conversation to end. Their banter may be short, but you think you’ve known enough. Shortly after, you felt another presence enter the prison block—it was heavy and foreboding—you had secondhand anxiety from the Stormtroopers once they’re in the presence of the third one.

“L-Lord Vader!” the Stormtrooper, the perky and nonchalant one, shuddered upon addressing his boss.

You backed away from the door, you felt your stomach drop to your feet when the door opened and revealed a lumbering beast of an entity clad in full black armor.

The eyes of his helmet were like the sockets of an empty skull, gleaming a blood-red tinge that afflicted indescribable horror to those who laid eyes on him.

Your hands trembled uncontrollably, not even clenching your fists helped in stopping the shaking; your heart rapidly pounded under sheer stress. As much as you badly wanted to, you cannot take your eyes off of this towering man. You clumsily fell back to the slab, the strength on your feet now unfound as he entered your cell. The gloss over the curve of his helmet shone under the light panels of the room.

“So, you are the prize the Emperor so badly desired,” the baritone that rumbled through Darth Vader’s helmet was frightening enough to get your tongue.

“Dooku’s way overdue, I shouldn’t be of any value to your master anymore!” your voice shuddered as you spat back.

Vader tilted his head upon the mention of that name. He thought he had buried the memory of the name and its owner within the deep recesses of his mind. However, it was neither a long time ago nor was it recent, but the familiarity serves.

“I don’t think so,” Lord Vader hummed. “When your uncle failed to deliver, the Emperor was most displeased with his efficiency—or lack thereof. You are still his blood, we will sharpen those invaluable powers of yours.”

“DO NOT ASSOCIATE ME WITH HIM!! I AM OF NOT OF HIS BLOOD!!!”

The instinctive anger gave you sudden burst of strength to stand up, protesting against Darth Vader’s statement of your lineage. He felt the wave of energy nudge his balance, but he held ground. Rather than be intimidated, he was impressed at how you went from a shying violet to a vessel flaring with rage.

“Yes,” he purred. “Strong are you with the Dark Side. Your hate and anger fuels you, it makes you more powerful than your weak, old man of an uncle could ever be.”

“He killed my mother…” the words involuntarily went past your lips. From that, Darth Vader understood the root of the pent-up, impulsive wrath that claws its way out of your system. “You’ll never get anything out of me!”

“We shall see.”

Not needing a response, he turned tail and you watched him exit your cell; the billowing of his cape almost reminded you of Count Dooku—the way he marched away from your house upon the demand of your mother. You felt yourself melting to the floor, you couldn’t believe that you had the gall to talk back to such a man of power. You weakly crawled back onto the slab, curled into a fetal position and struggled to rest and calm down—your hope and optimism fluctuating.

He probably hates me now… you sulked in your mind, drawing invisible lines on the slab as you tried to rest.

“No one’s coming… I’m going to die here,” you resigned with a dejected sigh.

You searched for the necklace she had given you during her final moments. You fished out the pendant under your shirt, gazing at the tiny cracks that it’s gotten over time, the gem had already chipped as well. Your thumb ran across the face of the jewel, leaving a blurred smear of your thumbmark over its surface.

“Am I going to see you now, Mom?” you murmured and nuzzled it to your cheek as you closed your hopeless eyes.

Little did you know that Cal and the crew were on their way to Mustafar, after struggling to tail the transport ship that carried you out of Zeffo and splicing their comms at a safe distance. Cere managed to hack through their communications and eavesdrop on the passengers’ banter.

Greez expressively objected the idea, not because he didn’t want to rescue you, but because being in the proximity of Imperials in a foreboding backdrop comprised of a black castle over a river of lava wasn’t exactly his ideal place. Nevertheless, he docked the Mantis close by the castle; with the help of Cere’s expert splicing, she had cloaked the ship with an Imperial signature so they stay incognito under the scanners for as long as she can keep it that way.

“I’ll bust out [y/n] and we’re out of here,”

“Keep your line open then,” Cere advised.

“Always,”

Cal stepped out of the Mantis and searched for an entrance into the narrow pyramid. Perhaps the only way through were the exterior ventilation shafts. After tearing out the grate, he crawled through the vent and followed his instincts, when he got to the point where he can stand up from the crawlspace, he cautiously tiptoed over the grates that served as his floor. He held his breath throughout the ordeal, careful not to make a sound and alert the clueless Stormtroopers beneath his boots, he strained his eyes through the holes of the grate—watching the enemy and his step at the same time. When he reached the end of the vent, he carefully undid the clamps of the vent door.

“Oh, thank the Force,” he sighed with overwhelming relief when he discovered that the end of the tunnel was an empty corridor.

He daintily refitted the grate back to the wall. He prowled through the corridor, hugging the wall in case he comes in the way of Stormtroopers patrolling the area. Cal kept worrying over how you’re holding up right now, where you are, or what they’re doing to you; he continued on while retaining his caution and stealth.

“Cal, are you there?”

“Yeah, Cere, just got myself into the fortress itself,”

“I managed to fish out the coordinates of their prison block, I’m sending it to you now,”

BD-1’s tiny satellite popped out of its designated hatch on his head, receiving Cere’s info that she’s sending from the Mantis; apparently, she had access to certain databases while retaining an Imperial radar signature. When the upload was complete, BD-1 promptly flashed the holomap into the space of the nook he and Cal are hiding in.

“The wonders of Cere,” Cal chuckled to himself as he glanced at the map. “Okay, that ought to be the cell block. Come on, let’s go get her.”

“Booo-woo!!”

Following the map, Cal stalked through the corridors, avoiding the areas where the count of Stormtrooper is dense and avoiding the need to draw out his lightsaber, as it would raise the castle on high alert, and the owner—which he could safely guess is more powerful than an Inquisitor—would send swarm upon swarm of Stormtroopers in his way.

He found the lobby of the prison block, but the bridge was a computer-operated type, so BD-1 did his magic on slicing it with his scomp link. In the process, the little droid stole data of a report that you were scheduled to be brought to an Imperial torture chair. After slicing the computer, he relayed the data to Cal.

“They’re gonna make her into one of them…” Cal mumbled. “We can’t let that happen!”

“Trill, beee! Woop-boo!”

“That’s very brave of you, BD-1!”

The boy and the bot marched over the bridge once it’s connected both platforms. In the second foyer where the door that actually leads the prison itself, Cal spotted your things sitting over the top of the computer terminal, obviously confiscated upon your incarceration. He swiped them and examined your staff, apparently none of the Stormtroopers have figured out how your weapon works, much to their carelessness, they simply left it partially retracted; but not for him—who’s lived his life over scrapping and making handiworks like these in his spare time back in Bracca.

Recalling how you used the weapon in Nalima, he searched for the buttons that triggered the mechanism to unfold and then retract the staff’s heads on both sides. It worked. He clipped it next his saber hanging by his belt and slung over your small bag across his chest.

The wide blast door hissed open, revealing the cell block’s interior. There were floors upon floors of cells, each tier was guarded by two or three Stormtroopers. On ground level, at its center, was the main control terminal; deactivating that would cause a domino effect of opening all the cell doors at once. There is only one problem: the Stormtroopers.

“Huh? I-It’s the Jedi!”

One hand signal from the commander with the red pauldron and all Stormtroopers aimed at the redheaded Jedi standing at the door. Igniting his dual-ended sabers, Cal deflected and returned every single ballistic rod of plasma fired at him. When he had cut down their numbers into a half at a staggering pace, the remaining Stormtroopers had already ordered the alarm.

“That’s not good!” Cal exclaimed.

He finished off the remaining Stormtroopers and ran towards the main terminal. Knowing that he couldn’t undo the alarm, he had to find you fast.

In your cell, your head jerked up when red light pooled around your entire cell, the blaring alarm fully woke you up while attempting to regain your energy while locked up. You didn’t understand why the alarm was off, you peeked through the window of the door—which was only a rectangle enough for your eyes to fit—and saw hordes of Stormtroopers spilling from both sides.

You didn’t understand what’s happening, until you heard the Stormtroopers’ dying groans as you heard a familiar noise. You sat up from your slab bed and watched the door whizz open, only this time, it was Cal standing at the other side.

“Cal?”

“Come on, we’re getting out of here!”

There was obviously no time for questions. Both of you have to move fast.

“Oh, by the way,” he unbuckled your staff from his belt and tossed it to you. “You’re gonna need this!”

It felt great to have your beloved techstaff in your hands again. You drew it to its full length, still in mint condition, a proud smile curled along the line of your lips. You sorely missed it.

You followed Cal out of your cell. He took the lead and you stayed close.

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rebellect-writes · 4 years ago

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[SIZE=1] [b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] I blame Danni AND Joe.

[b]Name:[/b] Victoria Eden Moreau. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST]Eden Morrison; Fake ID, obviously. Tori Babe. Vicky. Toria. Psychotic Hell-Bitch. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] 35 [b]Date of Birth:[/b] August 7th, 1977. [b]Gender:[/b] Female. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Heterosexual. [b]Occupation:[/b] High school PE teacher, former supernatural and occult hunter.

[b]Species:[/b] Lion. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ERJonp0xx1s/Tnqd6kffXjI/AAAAAAAAArE/NWtjP-3SVXo/s640/002-LIONESS-RESTING%2540body.jpg[/IMG][LIST]If it looks like a lion, smells like a lion and growls like a lion, it’s obviously a domestic house cat ready to bite your face off. Victoria’s animal form is pretty average, there’s nothing remotely distinctive about her. She may look a bit ragged at time, but the large tawny gold cat is hardly going to blend in with the UK scenery no matter what. In her feline form, she weighs in at 400lbs of muscle and tamed aggression and stands at 3’6 at the shoulders. From her nose to the tip of her tail, Vic’s a pretty average 8’3. [/LIST][b]Do you have a hybrid/alpha form?:[/b] [URL=http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2010/136/b/b/__Lioness_Line_art___by_sirius_spirit.jpg]Indeed she does.[/URL][LIST]Her hybrid form is more for show than anything else, just something to give her a little extra kick when her full feline form doesn’t provide her with it. She doesn’t turn into some raging half beast, half woman form either. Standing a little taller than her human form at 5’11, and weighing in at 280lbs, she’s covered from head to toe in golden fur and looks like the perfect mix of feline and human. She has claws in this form, never forget that, and fangs, and oh! She can talk even though it’s a lot more growly than her human voice is. [/LIST][b]Rank:[/b] Adwar. [b]How long has your character been a lycanthrope?:[/b] 24 years (infected at age 9). [b]Mind-Set:[/b] Dominant. [b]Power level:[/b] Alpha. [b]Abilities:[/b] [LIST] [*] [b]Speed:[/b] Like all lycanthropes, she’s fast on her feet and can move faster than the human eye can see if she uses her alpha speed. [*] [b]Strength:[/b] She’s stronger than your normal human. She’s not the strongest lycanthrope out there due to her size, but she can go head to head with a vampire and with a bit of luck, over power them. [*] [b]Durability:[/b] Victoria can heal almost any wound like most shifters can, bar decapitation and wounds caused by fire and silver. Wounds caused by more dominant lycanthropes and vampires heal slower. Almost human slow. [*] [b]Senses:[/b] Vic has extremely acute senses like most shifters. She can sometimes tell when someone’s lying to her face by the change in the other persons scent. [*] [b]Partial Shifting:[/b] She can shift hands and teeth into those of her animal or focus on shifting into a full blown hybrid form instead of a full shift from human to lion. [*] [b]Block A Vampires Call:[/b] It takes a bit of energy on her side but she can block out the call of a vampire up to 900 years old and extend that shielding to weaker werelions. Anything over 900 hurts her too much to block. [*] [b]Shield her Beast:[/b] She can lock her animal aura away and pull off the human vibe to most lycanthropes except from stronger alphas, and in some cases, stronger Master vampires since from her experience, they can force her lion to show itself. She does this on a day to day basis when it comes to her job. [/LIST][b]Face Claim:[/b] Charlize Theron. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://www.topnews.in/light/files/Charlize-Theron5.jpg[/IMG][LIST]Victoria isn’t that outstanding to tell you the truth. She’s almost you’re typical blonde – though she’s got a thing for dying her hair other colours at times. She’s got the curves and the legs but the eyes, they’re not human. As a result of staying in her animal form when she as younger for longer than she should, her eyes are those of her lion’s. Of course, she hides them behind hazel green contacts that she never takes out unless she has to do so, she knows better. She’s pretty slim; and only 5’9, and a half inches tall, weighing in at 140lbs of toned muscle, that it’s pretty easy to work out that she’s fond of working out and keeping fit.

She’s not one for style; Vic just doesn’t understand the appeal of having the latest fashion accessories. Of course that doesn’t mean she doesn’t splash out on things like makeup now and then, but that’s purely for work interviews, she finds it works a hell of a lot better being ‘appealing’ then being herself. Whatever works huh? She’s more comfortable in reliable jeans and t-shirts; a nice pair of boots doesn’t go amiss or a leather jacket. Since she’s hung up her hunting gear though, there are fewer holsters for weapons. When she’s at work, its sports gear. Tracksuits for when it’s cold out, shorts and polo-shirts when it’s warmer.

Identifying marks are a little easier to describe. She has her fair share of scars, though most are long since faded. The most notable ones are what look to be claw marks curving down over her right hip. They’re just three jagged lines really, and she doesn’t talk about them ever. Her second most notable scar was given to her by a hunter that thought he was being clever and had all the time in the world, he put a silver hunting knife through her shoulder and left it there so it burnt her after he’d incapacitated her. Now, she’s not a fan of big tattoos but she does have two small ones of her own. A koi fish above her right ankle, and a small flower on the top of her right foot. The flower was gotten on a whim, but the koi is supposed to represent strength, determination, and persistence in the face of adversity. The only other thing that comes to mind is that her ears are pierced twice on both sides. [/LIST][b]Weapons of Choice:[/b][LIST] [*] Fangs, claws, full blown lion form. It’s fun to get messy! [*] She rarely hunts these days, so she’s hung up her holsters. [*] She does have a butterfly knife she carries regularly. [*] Has a necklace with a small vial of holy water attached. Just in case. [*] A white gold charm bracelet with holy items from different faiths. [/LIST][b]Special Skills:[/b][LIST] [*] She used to – and still does if a hunt crops up that tickles her fancy – ingests holy water to stop vampires from taking a bite out of her. Since she hasn’t hunted anything since late 2008, it’s not going to bother any vampires unless she starts up again. [*] She knows how to fight, mostly brawling and that’s what she relies on. However she’s dabbled in Krav Maga (grade: G1), and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (grade: Purple belt) over the last 10 years. It always surprises people when they learn this. [*] She can speak French and Italian, not fluently but enough to get by, she’s also learning German and in the future, hopefully Spanish unless she forgets. [*] Gets and knows the basics when using guns. She’s more a blade kind of girl anyway. [*] Not a half bad thief, - when she needs the money - if she does say so herself. [*] Did a three year “general” sports course followed by her PGCE and QTS. She’s pretty proud of that, so don’t knock it! [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b] [LIST]Victoria isn’t actually that loud of a person in most respects, she’s the type of person that would rather sit and wait and have something to say rather than open her mouth and spew a bunch of pointless words just to hear the sound of her own voice. Then again, she was an ‘attack dog’ for a long time, and when you’re beat as a kid to learn how to hold your tongue, things sort of stick to you. When she speaks, she doesn’t raise her voice in anger unless it’s to get a point across – and when she does need to get a point across it’s normally accompanied by a blunt object of some sort if need be -, but she does get listened to. It just another part of whom she is, people just think she doesn’t have something to say when in actual fact; she’s just watching and waiting for a chance to pounce. She knows that she’s not the most relaxed of people, that’s for sure. However when you get past the creepy silence, she does brighten up a bit. She’s a loyal lass and keeps her word, even though she has her trust issues, but she doesn’t always think things through fully. She’s used to bulldozing her way through issues in her life, and then dealing with the fallout afterwards. Protective of what’s hers. Practical and strong willed she’s not likely to be cowed by someone playing mind games; in fact the last time someone tried that, she broke their arm without blinking.

She even smiles, though it’ll often be accompanied with a wiseass remark or comment. It is almost like she’s care free and forgets about all the crap she’s gone through to get where she is today. She’s loving and caring, hell she even cares though it doesn’t normally come off as most would expect it from a she-cat that could snap at a moment’s notice and become a big cat. While it may look like she has no control over her animal side, she’s got it, people have assumed that she has next to none and that has been their downfall. Oh yeah, she’s more than a little mental! If you push her, she’ll push back, only most people seem to forget she’s more on the animal side then most shapeshifters are and she loves that. She’s not afraid of her animal instincts and embraces them to the point that sometimes she doesn’t want to be human anymore but then she sees what she has and pushes to be normal.

Her views on vampires are slightly [i]skewed[/i] however. Having been used by a lion calling master for years, she has a distaste for anything over a hundred years old, sure she can curb her tongue and be civil to the creatures but present her with a lion caller – even Mikhail got snapped at – and she’ll do everything in her power to make it clear that she won’t become another and she won’t allow anyone in the Pride to be one either. This can be displayed in sarcasticness, threats and violence and promises of death. She just doesn’t like the creatures that can bend her like a crazy straw if it suited them. It’s driven by fear, something she’s not exactly sure how to react to and falls back on her more comforting animal nature to deal with it. As far as the rest of the supernatural world, well, as long as they don’t try and harass the Pride or start something they can’t finish with the people she cares about then she won’t bother them. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Swimming. [*] A good strong drink after a hunt. [*] Taking to the country roads on her bike and just driving until she can't. [*] Making known bullies fear her. Doesn't matter if they're kids or adults or anything else. [*] Spending time in her lion form, she doesn't do it as much as she used to do so. [*] When she can surprise someone by doing something. [*] Reading when she can get five minutes peace, normally during first break at work. [*] Not being dragged into supernatural turf wars, she joined the pride to stop that. [*] Protecting the Jackford pride. Bradon Mackenzie gave her a home. [*] Chinese food. Don’t ask her why, she just does. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Getting a ticket because she’s left her bike in the wrong place. [*] People that don't pull their own weight. You either sink or swim. [*] Being touched in lion form by people she doesn't know. She tends to bite [*] Having to clean her apartment. If it doesn't bother her, she doesn't bother it! [*] Parent/Teacher night. She'd take a feral shifter over that. [*] Doctors and medical types. Being poked and prodded? No thanks. [*] Being cornered. Have you ever seen an angry lion cornered? It's not nice. [*] Vampires that force themselves on others. It's not so bad when it’s voluntary. [*] Poor weapons maintenance. What is wrong with some people? [*] Being told she's over emotional just because she's female. [/LIST] [b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST] [*] Very familiar with her feline form, she shifts quicker because of this. [*] Doesn’t care if she gets hurt. In fact, she’d put herself in the firing line to save people she cares for. [*] Good tracking skills, urban or otherwise. [*] Isn’t easily backed down with threats and tends to laugh when they’re given. [*] Trusts her gut instinct rather than follow others unless she trusts them. [*] Loyal to people she trusts. Sometimes, even to those that just put up enough money. [*] She can hold her tongue and temper in check if she wants. [*] Knows a bit about witchcraft and the herbs used in most healing balms. [*] Very fast and agile, good for when she’s working with heights in the gym. [*] Still has a fair few contacts from her days as a hunter that she calls up when needed. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b] [LIST] [*] She has a bit of a one track mind at times. [*] Doesn’t always notice when she’s treading on thin ice. [*] Silver. She may’ve been a lion for a long time, but that stuff still hurts. [*] Comes off antisocial at times. [*] Her anger issues tend to put a crimp in certain things. [*] She doesn't have a good grasp on that 'relationship' thing. It's been [*] Practical in a way, she won’t blink twice at putting someone down if it means protecting others. Even if she's seen as a monster afterwards. [*] Doesn't trust many people at her back. There’s like four people out of billions. [*] Tends to spend a lot of time in her lion form, pushing the limits. [*] Can rarely tame that persistent stubborn streak. [/LIST][b]History:[/b] [LIST]Thomas and Natalie Moreau never took another hunt once they found out that they were due to have a baby together. They were hunters by blood, marriage and by trade; they did everything to stop the supernatural from infecting their ‘world’ and to keep people safe, but they would not endanger their soon to be daughter and in the august of 1977, their baby girl Victoria was brought into the world kicking and screaming like any normal babe and her parents officially hung up their weapons holsters and retired as hunters. Thomas took on a new job as a property developer that worked in and around Lancaster where they lived, and Natalie worked full time as a house wife. Together they doted on their child as Victoria grew up, giving her anything and everything that she wanted. Like any princess, she even had a pony at one point.

The happy little family however was torn apart just before Victoria’s ninth birthday, as the small farm house that the family owned was torn apart by rogue werelions and wolves, headed by a particularly vicious vampire who seemed to know all about her parents who were shocked by his apparent survival. The scariest thing of all for Victoria wasn’t that lions were everywhere or big werewolves; it was the Asian vampire Khan. The right side of his face was thick with holy water scars, the eye socket a gaping hole and mouth a jagged gash. Khan was one of the very few vampires that had ever escaped her parents, and he delighted on tearing through her mother’s mind and body as a werelion held her father back. When Khan was done with Natalie, he turned his attention to Victoria and forced a rather nasty looking lionman to tear into her young body before simply snapping her father’s neck. She should’ve died, would’ve died except werewolf alpha Jacques Rousseau had other ideas.

The wolf didn't take pity on her, far from it. When Victoria regained full consciousness now and again, she was told that she was Khan's new 'pet'. What better way to scare off hunters than by using the spawn of two fairly vicious hunters against them, it was put to her, before she was told that she had only survived because she'd contracted lycanthropy. Being a young lass, she didn't believe it. She screamed and raged and howled for her parents thinking it was a bad dream. It was only really brought home when Jacques, sick of the whelps screaming brought in a lion to teach her a lesson. Miranda was only slightly less cold than the werewolf, but under orders, she tore the beast from Victoria's body. Over and over, and over. Eventually, Victoria started to submit and forget about being who she really was and it was exactly what Khan wanted. Oh he had his pride and pack of bumbling misfits that had been thrown from their various clans for treasonous acts or for having broken the law, be he didn't have one animal at his command that would do simply as he asked, no if's buts or maybes.

By age 14, Victoria was a feral but suitably tamed little lion. She would sit pretty for Khan when he wanted to make a point in a business deal and she’d attack when given the order. Her first real kill wasn’t a goat or even a chicken; it was a frail old woman that owed Khan housing rent for staying in a housing complex he owned. Victoria snapped her neck and left her body where it dropped much to Khan’s displeasure and as a punishment she was put in the fight rings that one of his acquaintances ran. She tried her best, she really did. She’d gone from a pampered princess as a human, to a killer. Her fall from grace was bloody and violent and was brought to a sudden stop when she was put face to face with a full grown adult and alpha lion in the ring. She survived, but was sold on for being a failure to Master Khan and everything that she had been trained to hold dear.

After being past from vampire to vampire, and even the occasional knowledgeable human that knew of the supernatural and dabbled, Victoria ended up on a black market of sorts, nothing but a lost cause. She was stuck in a small cage for days, surrounded by other troubled souls such as herself, left to starve and in filth. Supernatural species of all shapes and sizes came and went sold off to the highest bidder as slaves that worked, fucked and various other things or prey for something else altogether. She even had a plan; she was going to attack the first handler she could get her hands on and hopefully have one of them kill her. Except, instead of a handler that came through the backstage area, it was something else entirely. He was young enough if a little older than herself, he was scared going by his scent, and he was…attractive for a human stumbling around in the dark. He changed her life the moment she had his scent. He left her alone in a loading bay however, such a hero for being forced into a nightmare of a fairy tale.

Free of the life she knew, Victoria did something that went against everything that had been beaten into her. She ran. For over two years she lived wild and on the move, most of her time in lion form and when she had to return to human form, she stole what she needed to survive on her own. Clothes from washing lines, food from market stalls if a hunt failed and the like, she even went as far for a while as to steal and fence property for money even though she never really needed it. However it worked out for her, though when she noticed that her eyes had stuck as those of her lions, she made it a personal mission to stay in human form more and more to get used to that form again. She even tried to talk to people; mostly farmers or hikers that crossed into her ‘territory’ at the time.

Once she was happy that she could return to being around people, Victoria ended up in Cardiff where she befriended a young couple that had lost their children to supposed gang violence and were so down on their luck that she couldn’t not help them even though she was barely considered an adult herself at the time. What the couple didn’t know was that it was supernaturally related violence that lost them their kids, so Victoria being the stereotypical cat riddled with curiosity looked into for them while she helped fight off bailiffs and other idiots that wanted to break her friends down more. She followed her gut instincts and tracked down the people that had been known as suspects in the community. It was teens mostly, desperate to rebel against the rules that their parents had set down but then she hit a lucky break, a werefox informant came forward to talk to her. Well, it was more warn her away from snooping because things would get ‘unpleasant’. She threw that fox out of a second story window… and then went back to searching.

It took her a year and she was roughly eighteen when she found the person that had ordered her ‘friends’ children be removed – her cat had claimed them as Pride even though she hadn’t known them long at all – and was marginally surprised to find out that it was a werelion male. The dominance battle was brutal; she was only a young woman and not used to the fighting the male easily won and inserted his dominance over her, claimed her as his ‘mate’ even though she’d clawed on of his eyes out with her own fingers. It was a huge leap and all that was really expected of her was to open her legs, be a submissive little waif of a woman that cowered behind the big bad lion. Well, she did as what was expected of her and after he was finished removed his head from his shoulders using the element of surprise. She disbanded the males operation – yes, in some cases she used violence – and the money that had been going towards other things, she sent to her friends before vanishing.

Bouncing around the UK for the next four years, Victoria picked up odd hunts here and there. A fey running a coven of witches and assuming Godhood over a town was dealt with, a Naga in Devon was told to move on because he’d started a turf war with the local snake clan. It was silly stuff really but the payment was ok. She managed to grab a job on an international freighter headed for America, and by the time she was 22 she landed her rear in Flordia. No papers, no money that she could spend easily, she was effectively back to when she was released from that cage by the scardy cat of a boy. It didn’t last long, America was so different and there was a lot of supernatural activity as well as human crime. She made her way as a supernatural bounty hunter of sorts, and not the legal kind most of the time. She was a monster hunting monsters, ironic huh?

Twenty three years old, she was still roaming the USA like she had done in the UK. Only this time she was more well off; and while she wanted to settle down somewhere she couldn’t unless she contacted the Pride that controlled that area. From what she’d seen since she’d actually come to the States, was that most of the USA Lions were a mite traditional, meaning that it was the woman’s job to do all the work. Since she had no interest of being a Pride gofer, she just spent her time on the road, staying in motels for a week or so or squatting in old properties. That’s when she got an interesting hunt, and came across someone she’d never thought to see again. Jothial Chapman. The little boy that had freed her had filled out, he was a man now and if she hadn’t got up close and personal to catch his scent, she wouldn’t have really known that it was him.

Stubborn male pressed her buttons though, and rather than outright kill him, she threw him through a wall and opened herself up to attack from the beast that she was hunting. She almost lost her life that night, and would’ve done so if her lycanthropic healing hadn’t worked its wonders on her battered body. She watched as Jo blasted the creature to nothing but ash and cinders before she even hinted that she knew him. Of course, it came out that she was a werelion and a hunter, and he was a bit iffy about the fact in her mind. Victoria expected him to kill her for being evil, instead they teamed up together and took on the evil that thought it could get past the Witch and the Lion.

They were together a year, hunting monsters that broke the laws of various things, putting themselves in the line of danger. What she failed to act on was the feelings that had stirred in her by being in close quarters to Jo. She never acted on them because she didn’t know how even though they were pretty intimate. She gave him and his creepy familiar the space and time they needed and Jo gave her the same thing. Honestly, Victoria would’ve said something sooner if she hadn’t made herself visible to a vampire that could control lions in the area. The last time she saw Jo was he was drooling into his motel pillow and that marked the end of that. She vanished without a trace using every means necessary to avoid detection. She hadn’t left him out of anger or anything; she’d left him because she was scared that the vampire would use her against him.

She ran from one vampire and lions and into another vampire, and ironically it was another lion caller a year or so later. This one was different though, he was older than anything she’d come across and Mikhail seemed just as surprised that she was a lion working as a bounty hunter. Victoria found herself drawn to this one, he didn’t abuse his people and he claimed New York as his city. Rather than run off again or try and kill him, Victoria struck up a bargain with the vampire master. She’d work for him as security and a hunter if she was needed as long as he didn’t try to call her and bend her to his will. Mikhail agreed and they went their separate ways for awhile. While in New York City, Victoria settled down in her first real apartment. She didn’t want to run anymore, but she had no idea what to do. Making that apartment as her base of operations, she spent the next few years learning how to be normal. She got a job, went to night school, made a few friends that weren’t anything that she was used to. They were simply normal. She did get called in to do some hunts for Mikhail every now and then, but they were neither here nor there.

Then in 2005, she returned to the UK after saying goodbye to Mikhail and the lions that she’d grown used to more confident in herself and happy enough. There was an ulterior motive for her return though; Mikhail wanted her to pass through a place called Jackford every now and again to make sure one of his fledglings in the local Kiss was doing ok and rather than argue or brush him off with a smile and a nod, Victoria agreed on the understanding that she wouldn’t tie herself to one place for so long unless he helped her out finding a reason to stay. By the end of July ’05 she was studying to become a Physical Education teacher after a brief course as a teaching assistant at primary school in York - which wasn't that far from Jackford so it suited her - but maybe she should’ve been clearer in what she wanted huh? She didn't stay there for long and by the end of 2010 she was a full-fledged teacher working at Jackford’s comprehensive high school teaching children about sports and how to stay healthy three days a week and spending the rest of the week bouncing between Pride duty and her own time, which she used as time to search for the odd hunt to keep her claws sharp and she's stayed there ever since ducking and dodging the crazy that was worse than her. [/LIST][/SIZE]

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lostinfic · 6 years ago

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Treat, please. Will x Holly. "You're wearing my sweater." + Game Night.

Game Night. 1 / 2

Pairing: Will Burton (The Escape Artist) x Holly Shawcross(True Love)

Rating:Teen

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Will and Holly are part of a group of friends whomeet every week to play board games. Although there is more than friendship growing between them, their pasts prevent them from acting on their feelings.

A/N: I also wrote a fem!Will x Holly version of thisprompt: Sweater Weather

Some details might escape you if you haven’t seen the shows, but I think you can still enjoy the story.

○ Trick or treat prompts

○ All my autumn fics

Available on Ao3

🍂

“You don’t have to do that,” Will said as Holly washed the glasses used by their friends.

“It’s no bother.”

He cleared the table and threw away empty bags of crisps and pretzels.

“How was your week?”

She interpreted his question as a sign that he didn’t mind her staying after the others had left.

Holly worked part time at an immigration center, teaching English to newcomers. As Will wiped crumbs off the table, she told him about a teenage Somalian refugee who drew comic strips of his journey to England. She’d put him in contact with a gallery where she’d once exhibited her own work.

“Did you paint anything new this week?” Will asked.

“Yeah. Christmas cards. I need to stock up my online shop in time for Cyber Monday.”

“But you loved painting Autumn stuff.”

“I know, I really did.” She pouted.

She washed another glass, and Will sided up to her with a towel to dry it.

“I nearly drank my paint water again this week.”

“I told you to stop using that mug.” He bumped her with his shoulder.

“But I love it!” She bumped him back with her hip.

He shook his head fondly.

She asked about his own week, she remembered he had a meeting with a new client yesterday. He lost his smile.

“The man’s a serial drunk driver and he’s killed someone because of it, and I swear his breath smelled of gin when we met.”

“Jesus. Did he drive to the appointment?”

“Thank God, no. His solicitor got him to start the 12-Step Program.”

“That’s good. There’s hope.”

He nodded, his lips in a tight smile.

“You must think I’m naive,” Holly said.

“No, no, but he’s probably only doing it to get a reduced sentence.” Belatedly, he added, “But I think it’s great that you still have faith in people.”

“I have to. Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He had seen too much in his career. That lost puppy look in his eyes tugged at her heartstrings.

She had to believe people could make amends and change, otherwise there was no hope for her after what she’d done. And what he’d done.

She wondered if he knew that she’d slept with one of her students, the way she knew he’d killed his wife’s murderer, by unearthing five-year old headlines on Google. They’d both moved elsewhere, to Cambridge, to put it all behind, so she never brought up the subject, never asked him if he really did it. Who they were now was all that mattered.

“I think some people can become better persons,” he finally admitted.

She touched his arm lightly, a shy show of support, and he surprised her by putting his hand over hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, and her arm goose-pimpled from the contact.

She loved these moments, when it was just the two of them and they talked about more personal things, unlike when the others were around.

Will and Holly were part of a group of eight friends who played board games every week. Lately, when the game was at Will’s, she made sure to arrive a little early and found some excuse to stay after the others had left.

Will had joined the group six months ago (one of their members had a baby and couldn’t come to their weekly games anymore so he introduced Will as his replacement). Maybe it was a professional quirk, Holly was a teacher after all, but she immediately took him under her wing, explaining the rules and the inside jokes, and going out of her way to include him in the group. She was only being nice, but somewhere along the way being nice turned into being infatuated.

Jamie’s arrival from his football practice interrupted their moment. They jumped apart and quickly finished cleaning up the kitchen.

Will saw her to the door. The temperature had dropped significantly, and Holly was only wearing a thin raincoat.

“It’s alright,” she said, “the bus stop’s only two blocks away.”

“I don’t want you to catch something, I need you to win the next game. Here.” He removed his grey jumper and offered it to her.

Holly walked to the bus stop with her nose under the collar. Unlike her who shopped at charity shops, Will had the means to buy high quality clothes and this jumper was no exception, a blend of cashmere and wool as far as she could tell. She rubbed her cheek against it. His cologne lingered between the stitches, warm and woodsy, and with the smell of rain in the air, it reminded her of the forest in autumn.

She wore his sweater all week. It kept her warm when she painted or read with the windows open. She became so used to it that she still had it on when they met at Patrick’s house for the next game night. Will didn’t notice however. Even if it was half past seven, he’d obviously come straight from court and his brain was still occupied by work. His hair was messy as if he’d tugged on it.

He sat down next to her without a salutation, and pulled a pre-packaged cheese sandwich and a green apple out of his coat pockets.

Every other week, they played Dungeons & Dragons. Patrick— a stocky, dark-skinned accountant who’d initiated the game nights with his sister Sabrina— recapped their latest quest. Everyone organized their dice, figurines and character sheets on the dining room table. Everyone except Will who was munching absentmindedly on his stale sandwich.

“Will?” Patrick repeated.

He blinked out of his thoughts and looked around as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Uh?”

“That weapon you found at the cave, was it a knife or a sword?”

“In the game,” Jasna, another player, specified.

“Yeah, sorry, erm…” He looked through his notes and answered them.

“Long day?” Holly whispered to him.

“Aye.”

“Relax.” She leaned well into his personal space and loosened his tie.

He didn’t say a word, only turned his torso towards her, offering better access. She hadn’t planned on taking it all off, but now her fingers worked at the knot. The silky material glided under his collar and wrapped around her fist.

“You’re free from work now.”

As he took his tie from her hands, his fingers deliberately brushed against hers.

“Are you wearing my jumper?”

“Have been since I got here.” She chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll give it back to you.”

“There’s no rush.”

Holly’s character was a Wizard and Will’s a Rogue. Because they always sat next to each other, they often separated from the rest of the gang to conduct their own mission. They made a good team. Will was a great strategist, always a step ahead of everyone, even the Dungeon Master. He would lean towards Holly, and whisper to her their next move. Her own strength was thinking outside the box, using her character’s spells in creative ways.

“Holly, you can’t use the Glyph of Warding that way,” Patrick said.

Will put on his glasses and looked through the Player’s Handbook. “Objection.”

Patrick groaned.

Will recited the description of the spell, “You inscribe a glyph that harms other creatures, either upon a surface or within an object that can be closed to conceal the glyph. Did you not say just 10 minutes ago that Mordenkainen closed the portal? Accordingly…”

“Why are you always defending her and not us?” Sabrina asked.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Holly’s weakness. It’s why she’d had an affair with a married man, an underage student and an older woman who called her her Muse. If they made her feel just a little special… But he was a widower, a single father and a workaholic, but she could feel it, like the pull of the undercurrent before a big wave. She was wary of that pull now— three years of therapy had taught her that at least—, but the more she resisted it, the more delicious it was. And really, it didn’t help that he wore such tight jeans.

Sometimes, she drew their D&D characters together.

“Holly, here’s what I’ll do, if Modenkainen is still in this plane, you can use the glyph on his portal.” Patrick rolled a pair of twenty-side die. “And you got it. Damn it.”

Holly and Will high-fived.

The game continued as they ate junk food, drank cider and generally drove Patrick crazy with their antics. “You can’t drug the elves to get in the castle!”

“What was the point of going all the way to Yesterhill to get these pastries, then?”

“I didn’t make you go there. By the way, Jerome, did you hide your tail?”

“Yeah, I shoved it up me arsehole.”

The whole table burst out laughing.

By the end of the night, they’d reigned in their hilarity enough to defeat a dragon and a horde of banshees.

“Same time next week,” Jasna said as she put on her coat. “It will be Halloween, so you’d all better dress up. Just kidding.”

Much to Holly’s surprise, Will offered her a ride home even though her flat wasn’t on his way.

Street lights glistened on the rain-sleek pavement and the wind carried dead leaves across the road. The full moon shone a warm, benevolent yellow over the river Cam.

Although they were silent, the car was brimming with some kind of energy. Will nearly missed a red light even if his eyes were trained on the road, Holly kept squirming on her seat, and they repeatedly snuck glances at each other. He missed the exit for her neighborhood, and they had to drive a while longer. She didn’t mind. She wanted him to keep driving. All night. Anywhere, out of town. They’d talk of nothing and everything.

He stopped in front of her building and killed the engine. She unbuckled her seat belt but didn’t leave the car. She didn’t want to have to wait a whole week before seeing him again.

“So…” he said.

“We’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Not at all. Oh! I have something for you.”

He reached for something on the back seat and handed her a paper bag. She unwrapped a set of mugs labelled “paint water” and “not paint water”.

“I saw them in a craft store window. Thought of you.” He tugged on his earlobe, watching her reaction. “Do you like them?”

Holly didn’t know what to say. It made her so happy that he’d thought of her. She cradled the mugs to her chest and nodded. She remembered something Karen had once said, that she wanted someone who would love “all her nerdy little things”. Holly had found that someone.

She tentatively leaned over the gear stick to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the same time and her lips landed right on the corner of his mouth. They both laughed nervously.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I should give you back your jumper.”

She took off her scarf and raincoat. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she gripped the hem of the sweater; she caught the hem of her tank top as well and pulled it all up over her head.

Will’s eyes widened when he saw her bra. Her chest heaved with quick breaths.

“Holly…” He swallowed thickly. “You’ll get cold.”

And she did, for his rejection was like a bucket of iced water to the face.

“Right.” She hastily put her raincoat back on and rushed outside the car with a mumbled goodbye.

Part 2

#lots-o-huggindoctor #meanwhileinpetesworld #Teninch fic #Will x Holly #Lostinfic writes stuff #autumn prompts #fluff and angst #I guess they're both geeks #because they're playing Dungeons & Dragons #game night fic

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tako-kola · 7 years ago

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Plot: Canyon Conquest - Part 5

((On that one faithful day, the Great Zapfish went missing for a week. And Callie was nowhere to be found in Inkopolis. Will the entire city’s power run out? Or will they find a solution to bring it back? The answers will surprise you.))

((WARNING: This story contains spoilers to Splatoon 2. For those who haven’t owned the game or completed story mode, please keep scrolling ahead. Thank you and enjoy.))

The song: Bomb Rush Blush continues to play in the radio while Fynn and Tundra were dodging incoming Octo-Missles. The Commander's new Octobot MK III is developed from all the previous Octo Weapeons from 2 years ago and formed it into one indestructible machine. The Commander shifted gears as the robotic arachnid started to hover like Octavio's ship. She dropped a huge Octo-Missile from above and it's heading straight towards them.

"Heads up...!" Tundra said, taking aim at the falling missile. She sniped the missile and sent it right back. It destroyed one of it's 8 legs, causing the prototype to wobble a bit. "Now, we know how to beat that thing.. Fynn, focus on the legs first!

"If we make it out alive with your friend on that chair, you have some explaining to do.." He watched the weaponized arachnid fall down, safely on the ground. At times like this, why did he bother getting up in the evening when there's power supply crisis.

As the Commander started moving and attacking again, Fynn examined the person who is driving the arachnid. The blue-ringed Octoling was wearing the same hypnoshades when he first encountered her. ("Hmmm... Maybe she's brainwashed, too... Those shades aren't just for show....") He thought. If he can get closer to the machine, he might be able to clear her senses. But how will he do that?

Tundra continued shooting of a few missles until she noticed Fynn was coming up with a plan of his. "What are you thinkin' about, anyway?" She continued shooting incoming projectiles.

"Remember when Dawn knocked me through a loop..? Maybe, I could save her by knocking her shades off, as well. I just need to use my head before I act.." It well may be the most reckless idea, he ever had. But he has one shot to save her like his sister did. He's not sure why, but he could somehow see the sadness behind her shades.

Tundra thought about his plan, before giving him a thumbs up. She too, wanted to save her Commander from corruption. "Just be careful, out there.. I'm going to take out a few legs, allowing you to climb up the cockpit."

"I don't know, what you two muttering about...? But I can't let you succeed, nonetheless..!" She stopped her assault to stare down at the two. "It's been a year and a half.. We've been searching from top to bottom for you... You've broken our trust after our mission together and you decide to leave without notice..!"

Tundra lowered her weapon as she walked right next to Fynn. She hated bringing up her dark past, but the Commander must know. "The reason why I left is because, I wanted to choose a different route than being an elite. That last mission took out my eye during a fight with an Anglerfish.. It was a suicide attempt and I was scarred for life..." She pointed at the eye patch on her right eye, followed by the two scars over her eye. She slowly took off her eye patch to reveal the whole eye to the Commander and Fynn. The eye lid was sealed shut for several months. "After the accident, I moved to Inkopolis to start a new life.. I wanted to follow another goal like that one Octoling who chased her dream.."

"Whoa..." Fynn was too busy, staring at her closed right eye. On his point of view, it looked badass of her. But on the inside, he felt sorry for her past. He was in the same fix as hers. After he quits his job as Agent 11, he got a job as a dishwasher at a family-oriented diner.

"Everything was going well, y'know.. I became a personal trainer to help a couple of squids to grow stronger. One of 'em is Fynn, right here. I still don't understand why you kidnapped him..? What's so special about my pupil..?" On the same note, Fynn was wondering about it.

"Tch.... Fine.. I'll save you all the trouble by explaining to you all..." The Commander cleared her throat and leaned in closer to them. "Before I was promoted to commander, I did some scouting on an unknown agent.. According to the list of agents from the past, he was called Agent 11. He claims to be the city's defender.."

Fynn's body went stiff when she mentioned to his former alias. He clenches his gut from where he got shot at in the empty streets. Becoming an agent, puts him through some unfortunate struggles and never-ending nightmares.

"I've been watching him from the shadows, while he did his part. From the Octobot invasion, the radio outbreak in Inkoplis, and even a rescue attempt to save a young Octoling from being tortured by two Inklings.. He was indeed, a hero. But... every hero's journey comes to an end." She looks at Fynn with a pleased expression on her face. "It's not easy, carrying on with your life while the past is dragging you down. Right, Fynn..?

Fynn clenched onto his Herobrush, shaking in fear and anger. After a year, she knew about his identity and his downfall. He closed his eyes, trying to look away from her. As he did, he felt a hand of Fynn's shoulder. He turned his head to look at Tundra.

"Don't listen to her... You've done so much to protect the city in the past.. Yeah, no one has ever heard of you. But, you've got the guts to fufill your destiny.. You're one of a kind and you have friends who got your back. It's about time to leave the past behind us and focus on our future.." Her sweet words were enough to bring Fynn back to his senses. Then, she glared at the Commander. "You think you've seen his agent work, but he's stronger than you think. Try to underestimate him or you'll regret it."

The Commander was taken aback by this, before letting out a disapproval huff. "Spare me.. You can't fulfill your destiny when you're dead..!!" She was done, talking to them as she readied herself for more. "I have no choice but end this, quick! Unless, you have what it takes to prove me wrong.."

"She's about to attack, again.. I'll cover you til the end.." Tundra put her eye patch back on and took aim if the Commander releases a few more missiles.

As soon as the arachnid is ready to move around, Fynn has both hands on his Herobrush. He held it close to him and got into his stance. This stance has the resemblance of a samurai warrior. Fynn stared at the Commander and then, at the 7 legs. ("Eimie... I give you my word.. I will come back, a new man...!") Without warning, Fynn charged at one of the legs. His leg weight training really paid off in a good way.

The Commander was shocked by his movements, but she went offensive and launched 4 missiles at him. The missiles were locked onto Fynn and about to chase him. If his tank runs out, he'll have a disadvantage. Unfortunately, the missiles isn't going to faze the pink Inkling.

Fynn was trying to the avoid the homing missiles, until he has an idea. He cleverly went for one of the 7 legs while the missles were on his tail. As he got closer and closer to the leg, he made a U-turn and moved to the next leg. The 7th leg was destroyed from the inksplosion, causing the arachnid to fall over. Fynn kicked it up a notch by serpentining around the other 3 legs, connecting the three inksplosions. There's only 3 legs left and the Commander's arachnid is losing its balance.

"You pink little pest...!!" The blue-ringed Octoling responds by trying to keep up with her prototype but with 5 missing legs, she's unable to function. "My plans will be for nothing, thanks to a former agent and a traitor..! But you forgot one thing..." Suddenly, the mouth of the arachnid began to open and revealed some sort of gas nozzle. "My machine is loaded with my deadly vemon and the Toxic Mist gas. Let's if you can handle my fumes..." She pressed a button to release to strong Toxic Mist into the battlefield. If they get caught in the fumes, they'll lose their ink even faster. Not only it does its job, but the deadly gas will slowly kill the two.

"This isn't good... Fynn, don't breathe in..!! This Toxic Mist is more threatening than before!" Tundra held her breath, trying not to choke in the toxic gas. This is the Commander's secret trump card when facing against bigger threats.

Fynn has witnessed the poisonous fog from before. If only, he brought his gas mask with him. He quickly, held his breath and backed away. At this rate, they won't endure for long. The mist surrounded both Fynn and Tundra, depleting their ink even more.

Unit 64 was still strapped to the chair, watching the whole fight. She couldn't just sit there and watch them perish. So, she tried to struggle with getting the restaints off of her. After a minute of wiggling her hands and rocking her chair from side-to-side, her arms are free from the restraints. She got to work by undoing the restraints by her feet. She made sure to be silent before unbuckling the restraints.

Alex broke free from her chair and stealthfully walked over to the switch for the ventilation van. It was next to the huge monitor, revealing the main event with DJ Octavio, Callie, and the three agents. She quickly turned on the fan as the propellers started moving fast. The huge gust of wind, blew away the deadly Toxic Mist. Feeling relieved, she pulled off the tape in her mouth and she was able to talk. "Destroy that damn nozzle before she releases more...!!" She cried, giving them the signal.

Before the Commander releases another gas of toxic, Fynn quickly recovers his ink tank by diving into his own ink. Once his tank is restored, Fynn pulls out an Autobomb. He chucked the robotic bomb with all of his strength to block the nozzle's entrance.

"What in the...!! It's jammed...!" The Autobomb didn't detect any nearby enemies while it continues to wiggle. The pressure begins to build up as the the arachnid's mouth is breaking apart. The bomb detonated after it was done wiggling, causing the arachnid's mouth to burst into pile of scrap and leftover gas. The blue-ringed Octoling quickly opened the hatch and ejected from her seat. She landed in front of them with her Octo Blaster in her hand. "Okay.. Now, I'm going to destroy you..!! I've worked so hard in creating the prototype..!!" She glares at Fynn through her hypnoshades.

"I can't allow you to harm the citizens of Inkopolis.. Like me and Tundra, they all have a dream to obtain.. And I won't let you take that away from them.. I'm going to finish what I started, right now..!!" Fynn's ink tank is half-empty. With a few swings, he might knock her shades off in time.

"Let's see you try it..!! I still got enough vemon left to splat you..!!" Her tank has enough ink to shoot a couple of ink blasts. One shot will splat him in the center. She instinctively charged towards Fynn with all she's got. She aimed at Fynn and fired her blob of ink.

Fynn closed his eyes, concentrating on his attack. He got into his samurai stance, again to prepare for the inevitable. He thought back to all the memories he did, over the years. His friends, his team, his family, even his girlfriend. They are all waiting for him to return. How they all miss him after so long. As if time stopped in front of him, Fynn cuts through the ink blast with one swipe. He started charging towards her. His tentacles and the ink spots on his body began to glow a radiant light.

The Commander stared at him in shock after he slices through her ink blast with a swing of a brush. "That's... impossible..!! My ink could've wasted you..!!" She couldn't let Fynn take her out that easily. She rapidly fired two shot at him while closing in on him. "Stay back..!! I order you to stay back..!!" She cried, trying to fend off the armed Inkling.

Her warnings meant nothing to him. Fynn cuts through another blob of her ink. As for the third ink blast, he swiftly dodges the final blow and he was in range with the Octoling elite. He grips onto to his Herobrush, preparing to swing. He looks into the Commander's face before he takes the final swing, knocking the shades out of her face. He could hear a loud shriek from the Commander as he watches her collapse onto the floor. She wasn't splatted, but she was out cold. "I'm done taking orders from you.." He said, taking a deep breath.

Tundra caught up to Fynn, lowering her weapon. She stared down at the passed out Commander. "I'm sorry, Eris... it has to be done..." She sighed, deeply before facing Fynn. "We did it, Fynn.. My girls are safe and sound for now.. Now then, we need to reach to the concert.. Phantom, Mantis, and Marie are still trying to bring Callie back.."

Alex approached to them in the middle of the chamber. Now that she is relieved of her duties as an elite, she doesn't have the will to fight anymore. She hands Tundra, the key to her flying vehicle. "...Take it. I'll try to shut off the system while you two can go see the fight. I'll stay here with Eris to see if she's coming back to her senses."

There wasn't time to have second thoughts. He took the keys from her and nods. "Thanks for blowing out the toxic gas.. If it wasn't for you, we'd be dead within seconds.. And sorry about wrecking your gun..." Even though she tried to splat him, he can't stay mad at her after what she did.

"....I'm still mad at you, jerk. You should be grateful, I returned the favor. Go after your sister or whatever.. She has fought her way to get here." Alex turns away to work on the controls.

"You're welcome." He left her to get to work and turned around to meet Tundra. He was wondering, how his sister and her new friend are holding up as the music continues to play in the background with Callie, singing Bomb Rush Blush.

"C'mon, champ. We're gettin' a VIP access to the fight. If only, we brought some popcorn for this fight." She joked around, before she left the chambers.

Fynn looked back at the monitor, showing the live concert. It pains him to see Callie on stage, brainwashed like he used to be. He loves the outfit and the tattoo on Callie, no matter how bad the situation is. After a few seconds to watching the monitor, he left the chamber with the keys in his hand. This ship will take him to the concert with ease. ("Dawn... Please be safe...") He prayed for his sister's safety and her partner as well. Someday, they will both have a future to succeed.

End of Part 5

#agent phantom #agent mantis #plot: canyon conquest

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salmonthestoryteller · 7 years ago

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Partners

A Yuri On Ice AU Fanfic

Written for @seungchuchuweek

There were two men missing when they first called Celestino. Missing could be any number of things, but after details about a mysterious woman being sighted are added, Phichit is certain he knows what they’re dealing with.

“You sure you don’t want me to call Yuuri and ask him to meet you there?” Celestino asked him for what must be a record number of times in a three minute conversation.

“And interrupt his honeymoon?” Phichit asked pointedly.

“How many months can a honeymoon last?” Celestino lamented.

“I don’t know, how many ghosts are there to hunt in Russia?”

“Remind me how a ghost hunting tour in Victor’s home country is a honeymoon again?”

“They seemed pretty happy when I video conferenced with them last week.”

“Yakov probably isn’t thrilled to have them in his backyard.”

“Yakov has his hands full of his own trainees. I hear Yuri run off solo all the time.” Phichit continued to pack his bag, the phone balanced between his shoulder and ear.

“Reminds me of a couple of teenage boys I trained.”

“We were the epitome of well behaved trainees!”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m starting to feel a lack of faith in my abilities here. It’s only a Phi Song Nang. It’s not like it’s a Pret or anything.”

“It’s just better to have back up.”

“If more details come out and it seems more dangerous, I will call.”

“This I doubt.”

Phichit resisted the urge to razz at his old trainer over the phone. “I’m ready for this.”

“I want a daily report.”

“Detailed and with lots of photos. Promise.”

Phichit was pretty certain when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up his younger self did not say, ‘A Paranormal Detective.“ Then a Pret had invaded his village. That was when he had first met Celestino and Yuuri and things had evolved from there.

He had trained first with Satsuki Muramoto. She had been the one to arrange for him to go to America and he had spent years there under Celestino’s tutelage. Technically he reported to Satsuki now that he was back in his home country, but she had a month long seminar with younger students so her calls were being handled by Celestino.

That was how Phichit found himself alone on a case with neither nearby, nor any other paranormal detective as back up. He felt confident in his abilities. In hindsight, maybe a tad too confident.

Three days after arriving at the village a third victim had vanished and the first body was found. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“It’s not a Phi Song Nang. It’s a Phi Pop.” He called Celestino after the police had let him view the victim.

“Are you sure?”

“I will email you the pictures, but I don’t recommend eating lunch first.”

“So, what are you planning?”

“An exorcism. I’ll go to the area the reports of the woman are tonight.”

“Does the village have a Mo Phi?” He could hear him typing on his laptop. Probably calling up a list of who they had worked with before in the area.

“I can handle it.” Phichit insisted again. “I have everything I need and a local told me the way to a gorge nearby. It won’t bother anyone once it’s down in that pit.”

“Don’t be reckless.” Celestino warned.

“Yuuri’s the reckless one.” He protested.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He didn’t resist the razz this time. Celestino was unaffected. “Call after it’s done.”

“Yes, yes.”

The ritual to bring forth the spirit didn’t work. Phichit’s legs had threatened to go numb if he sat much longer, so he had gotten to his feet after the first half hour. Another half hour passed before he began to pace inside the protective square, a frown marring his features as he analyzed his failure. Nothing about the ritual seemed wrong, yet the empty space around him suggested otherwise. Unless the spirit was a different kind then he originally thought.

Which frustratingly meant staying in the protected space he had made until sunrise to make sure he wasn’t attacked trying to leave. He groaned at the thought. Essentially he was back to square one of his investigation. Celestino wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. He had been so certain all the facts pointed to a Phi Pop, though.

He glanced up and froze. Outside the square a shadow was crouched, watching him with golden eyes.

“Well, well, well.” Her voice flowed silkily across the quiet area. “What have we here? A rookie.”

Phichit felt insulted, but didn’t argue. “Name yourself.”

The woman laughed at him. When she stood, Phichit saw the ninetails flowing behind her. “A protective square. Fairly good in strength, too. I bet most spirits couldn’t break through. But your jar there is useless, rookie. You can’t trap me with it. And I bet you don’t have a weapon.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” Phichit challenged.

“My life?” She seemed amused as she paced around the square in a large circle. “As if you stood a chance against me. Tell you what, if you start running now, I’ll give you a head start.”

“You know what I’ve noticed? You haven’t entered the square.” Phichit pointed out. “So maybe I’ll just stay right here.”

“Not bad, rookie. Not bad…” Her grin showed off her sharp canines and Phichit remembered the body that he’d viewed. He told himself now was not the time to throw up. “Now, see, you are right. You used some strong spells, so I can’t cross. But you made it a bit small.” She kicked up a spear from the ground into her hands. “Let’s see how well you dance, rookie.”

Phichit dodged the first set of spear thrusts easily, but the second set was harder. Her goal was to make him leave the safety of the protective square, so he concentrated on leaps up and low ducks that kept him from going left or right too much.

“Look at the little fish leap!” The fox crowed. “I can’t wait to taste you…”

Trying to ignore her taunts, Phichit mentally recited everything he knew about her species. He didn’t specialize in creatures, though, so his information was lacking. He wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to kill her even if he had a weapon capable of it in his bag of supplies. The knife he kept for rituals did not seem like it would be a match against her spear skills.

The spear sliced into his side mid leap and he gave a cry of pain. He crashed to the dirt, unable to hold the landing of his jump.

“Game over, I win.” She pulled back the spear to stab him, but then glanced behind her. In a blur of motion she leaped away as a dark haired youth his own age sliced through the space she had been with a sword.

Phichit pressed a hand to the wound on his side as the newcomer looked over at where the fox now stood - spear set in a defensive stance. “You shouldn’t play with your food.” His tone was cold.

“Seung Gil Lee.” She sneered. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“I will avenge my family’s death.”

“Blah, blah, blah.”

Seung Gil’s eyes narrowed, and then he attacked. Phichit watched as the two dueled. Dodging each other’s attacks and trading blows in a series of spars that left him stunned. He gasped as a move by the fox left Seung Gil disarmed. Seung Gil whistled, though, and she was forced to leap away as a siberian husky charged into the clearing, leaping at where she had been. The husky spun to face the fox, growls emitting from both as they faced off. Seung Gil stood, watching her.

“Fine, keep him.” The fox gestured at Phichit. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Fifteen more, Seung Gil. Just fifteen more.”

With that she leaped away, disappearing into the night. Seung Gil took a step after her, then cursed and came back to where Phichit stood. “Don’t worry about me. The fox is getting away.”

“It’s a Kumiho.” Seung Gil corrected. “And you’re bleeding everywhere, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“But-”

“Take off your shirt and let me see the wound.” Seung Gil fetched his bag from somewhere and pulled out a medicine kit.

Phichit did as he was told, hissing slightly when Seung Gil started cleaning the slice on his side. “…thank-you. I would be probably be dead if-”

“You’re an Exorcist.” Seung Gil cut him off.

“Paranormal Detective.”

“How very modern.”

“What do you call yourself? Monster Hunter? Warrior? Paladin?” Phichit asked.

“I call myself Seung Gil Lee. I don’t give myself any title.”

“Oh…”

“You heard our conversation. I am not fighting her for some noble cause. She killed my family, and I plan to kill her. Sometimes leads I follow turn out not to be her. I don’t let people die if I can help it. That’s all.”

“That’s kind of noble in it’s own right.” Phichit offered. Seung Gil’s hands froze for a moment, then resumed wrapping his wound. He glanced at him, though, and something in that gaze made his face flush.

“Are you going to tell me your name or should I just call you Paranormal Detective?”

“I’m Phichit. Phichit Chulanont.”

“Well, Phichit Chulanont, Paranormal Detective, you’ll live, in case you were doubting.”

“I said I was fine, you were the one who pointed out I was bleeding.” Phichit protested.

“And if you weren’t fine, would you have said so?” Seung Gil asked him as he repacked the med kit into his bag.

“Probably not if it meant the… What did you call her?”

“A Kumiho.”

“If the Kumiho would have gotten away. Which she did anyway. Celestino is going to be furious with me.”

“You work for Celestino Cialdini?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him.” Seung Gil frowned. “You specialize in spirit exorcism, then.”

“Yes.”

“Huh. So you thought the Kumiho was a spirit? Yet your wards were strong enough to keep her out. That’s impressive, actually.”

“It didn’t stop me from getting injured.” Phichit began to collect his own things.

“You built it too small.”

“I wasn’t trapping a large ghost.”

“Could you show me what you did?”

“I could, but it’s not as simple as imitation. Do you have any experience in exorcism?”

“No. Nevermind, it was pointless.” Seung Gil headed over to where the husky was waiting for him, watching the forest around them for any sign of danger. Phichit watched as he pet it, his face - hard until that moment - softening in affection.

“If you want to learn, take me with you.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to say them.

Seung Gil stared him for a long moment. “What?” He finally got out.

“Take me with you.” Phichit repeated, this time with more confidence. “I came here to solve what was happening. As long as the Kumiho is out there I haven’t finished the job. And in the meantime, I can teach you what I know, and you can teach me what you know. It’s a fair trade.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I disagree. After everything that just happened, I know a lot.”

“I could be a terrible person and you’re just assuming the best.”

“I trust my judgement. Besides, you did just save my life.”

“You clearly have no idea how to fight.”

“And you clearly have no idea how to do an exorcism.”

“I’m terrible at socializing. I’ll make lousy company.”

“Terrific. I excell at socializing. We’ll make a great team.” When it was clear Seung Gil had run out of objections, Phichit hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “Let’s go back to my apartment. We can discuss it more there.”

“…you have an apartment here?” Seung Gil asked, interested despite himself.

“Don’t you?”

“Chasing after that Kumiho keeps us on the move. We rarely have a place to stay.”

“Leave that to me, then.”

Phichit’s phone began to ring off the hook the next morning. At first Seung Gil ignored it and went back to sleep. Several calls later he gave up on that idea.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I know I didn’t report in but Celestino didn’t have to call you…” Phichit threw him a suffering look. Not sure what to do in response Seung Gil stepped outside to allow him some privacy.

A spear touched his throat and he froze. “Got to hand it to the little fish. He wards his abode well.” The Kumiho watched him carefully. “The blood he left on my spear was tasty. I came back for a bigger bite. You being here I didn’t expect. Did you make a friend, big brother?”

“I won’t let you kill him.”

“You’re attached already. How cute. Don’t worry, now that I know you care about him… I’ll save him for number fourteen. You can watch me eat him before I eat you.”

“You will never be human.”

“Oh, but I will. You will die knowing you failed, and I’ll be free.”

“Even death won’t stop my vengeance.”

“Promises. Promises.” She backed away slowly when a sound came from inside. “See you soon, big brother.”

She was gone before the door opened, revealing Phichit with his phone still in his hand. “I miss one check in and fail to post one night and everyone freaks out. I’m sorry, Seung Gil. I didn’t mean to run you out.”

Seung Gil was still reeling from the morning encounter, but he nodded stiffly. “You didn’t. I thought you might want some privacy.”

“Mmm… Celestino gave me a lecture. About more than one thing. I know I pushed for us to team up last night, but if you don’t want to-”

“Be my partner.” Seung Gil interrupted him.

Phichit froze. “I - come again?” His eyes were wide.

“You said yourself we’ll make a great team. Do you doubt that now?”

“No way! I definitely still think that!”

The husky came out through the open door and Seung Gil reached down to scratch her head. “Then be our partner.” He offered his hand. “Please?”

Phichit grasped it with both of his and a smile bright enough to rival the sun. “Accepted!”

Fini

My goal was to do 7 straight mini fics without missing a day. Fail.

Despite my love of folklore, ghosts, and mythological creatures I was woefully ill-prepared for this fic. The only ghost I was familiar with from Thailand were Prets, and I had no knowledge of Korea’s folklore and spirits at all. My research was far more hastily done than I would really have liked. Apologies for any mistakes or misunderstandings on my part of the info I read.

Korean lore proved harder to research than Thailand. I came across the story of the fox sister, and the story blew up from there. Nine-tailed foxes are a weakness of mine in stories, good or bad. (Kumiho being of the bad variety.) My love of Wuxia may also have slipped in there a bit…

I just created an AU fic I have no intention of continuing past this initial meeting. And it turned out far less romantic on paper than it was in my head, too. Fail, again. Apologies.

#seungchuchuweek #day 2 #yoi fanfic #fanfic #yoi #yuri on ice #seungchuchu #prompt: mythology or folklore #prompt: urban or contemporary fantasy #alternate universe

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chaosmagetwin · 7 years ago

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Character Redesign: Ashley The Half-Demon

From The Wild Adventures of Ashley and Paul (AKA ...TWAAP?)

Though TWAAP is over (because I’m kind of done trying to figure out how that all works, go figure), I still had Ashley’s design running around in my head, trying to find a story. Over the incredibly long period of time that it’s been since I’ve written her design out originally, her design has changed a little, and the story she resides in will no longer be a crazy meta-verse in which authoritarian authors (heh) rule the lives of ‘characters’. What kind of story will she be in? I’m not sure yet.

Name: Ashley Abandon

Nicknames: The Discarded Demon, Ash

Gender: Female

Physical Description

Despite standing at the height of 5′5″, Ashley cuts an imposing figure with a noble’s posture and an expression of stone, and a habit of clutching her hands behind her. Her large, round eyes were unfocused with dark circles underneath them, as though staring at some distant thing not seen by others, and yet they were likely the most visually striking thing about her with charcoal sclera, red and gold irides, and the slit pupils of a cat. Her hair was cut close, no longer than an inch, the black curls barely able to form before shears cut them down. Sprouting from within the hair came two ram’s horns, curling back as though to outline her head, the tips ending at the same level as her chin, the tips filed down to a dull point. Three holes were drilled into each of the horns near the tips, close enough that the copper rings that hung from them could touch each other and jingle when she moved. She has a heart shaped face that was built delicately, with a sharp chin and a twice broken nose. Her lips were thin and dry, and if she were to ever smile one would immediately notice it was a shark’s smile, almost literally. Two rows of razor sharp teeth filled her mouth, but they weren’t over-large; rather, each serrated tooth was a little smaller than normal, and lasted about a year before dropping out on their own. Both rows were straight, and each pair of teeth took up no more space than a molar. Scars littered her face of all types, from a straight blade scar that cut directly across her left cheek to a ripped scar on her nose where it had broken, as well as three different scars on her lips from being split open either in a fight or a beating, a literal notch cut from her nose tip, and a thin ring around her neck caused by long term irritation.

Ashley was fit, but it was obvious she was underfed; her muscles barely had a layer of fat around them, putting her muscles in stark relief when shown. They were the long, corded muscles of a runner, with thick thigh muscles; in addition, her back muscles were strangely developed, as were her arms, and those with the eyes for it would recognize a swords-woman. She lacked the traditional features of femininity; indeed, most who saw her would call her,at best, ugly, or ‘mannish’, citing her lack of curves and the abundance of muscles for it. Such people would come to regret that. At worst, they called her a demon, or horrifying, and in many ways that bothered her less; it was easier to ignore the ones who believed her to be a soldier of hell.

Ashley tended to wear the heavy clothes of those common to the north, though she was forced to make accommodations for her horns in hats and hoods. Hoods, in fact, were impossible to work with unless she put them on first, and hats had to be separated into two pieces or be unbelievably stretchy. Often, the easier course was to simply wrap her head like those from southern deserts, which is what she currently had, though, instead of being one solid piece wrapping around, it was several made of rags. She tended to wear pants and simple tunics, with layered quilted tunics and fur-lined coats in the winter to keep her warm. Each layer showed long use, with holes worn through in several places. Her leather walking boots, though made well, also showed wear and tear, with thin bottoms and frayed sewing barely holding it together. Her gloves were the only new piece of clothing that she had; kid leather gloves that came up to her mid-forearm, embroidered with silver thread with a floral pattern. They were obviously well cared for, and oiled frequently to keep them soft.

The only other thing she had that was taken care of as well as her gloves was likely the only item of value she had too; a sword, wrapped in cloth, only the hilt visible. Poorly done stitching kept the cloth around the sword, but it was clear just from the hilt alone that the sword was a straight-forward piece, with no ornamentation what-so-ever and a cross guard of steel. And yet, the sword was well-kept. Those with the eyes for it would notice that it was a high quality piece, completely solid. It wasn’t made by an apprentice at forge that mass-produced weapons for the army, it likely made by a master, by special order.

History

There are few people in the world who could claim lineage to that of a demon-prince. There are fewer still who would proclaim it proudly. Fewer still would proudly proclaim it in an era of strife, civil war, and famine. Ashley’s mother was one of those few. Perhaps even the only one.

She wasn’t exactly known for her intelligence.

Still, she wasn’t one to hide who she was, even when things had gone to shit, and she knew how to protect herself. Deina was a warrior, through and through, happy to bash in heads and make a name for herself. From the time that she was a little girl to the time that she died after being stabbed in the back, she proudly held her head high. At the age of fifteen, she joined the army of Su’Darican, a warlord with ambition for the throne, and quickly rose through the ranks as a capable fighter, though not a leader. She lead the charge when she could, and joined the vanguard, a halberd her weapon of choice, unnatural strength letting her smash through a shield wall like it was paper. She loved the thrill of the fight, and more than once she was the leading reason why Su’Darican was able to win a few battles. But he was on the losing side of a war against the King, and it was fairly obvious to anyone with sense. Those with honor stayed to fight with him to the bitter end. Those with a little more sense of ‘adventure’ decided the best coarse would be to switch sides.

Deina was one of them. After all, death was not in her plans. The king, wary of a powerful part-demon, sent her on mission after mission against his enemies, hoping to simply keep her busy. Naturally, she would be sent with others to increase the chances of success, though they would be under secret orders to let her die if she got into trouble.

It was during these missions that she grew closer to one of the men in the unit. Several, in fact. Deina was a handsome woman, not to mention skilled, which made her rather attractive to a number of people in the unit. Unfortunately for any who wanted a true relationship, Deina was also not very faithful, and when she eventually became pregnant with her escapades, it would be impossible to know who the father was. She was forced to retire, and her time in the army was over. Those in command who knew her also knew she would find trouble herself, and potentially even join brigands if left to her own devices, even if pregnant. Taking her choice away, they put her under house arrest in the capital.

Perhaps it was her demonic ancestry, or perhaps it was her choices being taken away from her, but Deina found the act of raising Ashley repulsive. Forced into it nevertheless, she resented her daughter for taking her away from the action and relegating her to the role of caretaker instead of soldier.

The very people who had placed her into this situation would not learn how much of a grave mistake this was until several years later, though at the time they were dealing with a set of problems completely unrelated to Deina and Ashley. A rebellion had formed around the cousin of the king, and the country was plunged into a civil war by the time Ashley had turned five. It was not some quiet peasants rebellion, squashed by the local army. It was an out and out war that split the country evenly in half, one that would rage on for over five years, one that would continue despite the edges being taken by the surrounding countries. It was the war, later historians would write, that destroyed the country entirely, and destabilized the entirety of the region for years to come as other countries took what land they wanted, and brigands spread from it like locusts in an attempt to survive.

Deina, from the start, wanted to join the army again. Ashley was five, she didn’t need her anymore, she stated desperately to the officers. They refused, and Deina would sink into a deep depression, one she would ultimately lay the blame of upon Ashley. What had once been simple emotional neglect turned into searing abuse and a dive into alcoholism.

Ashley would eventually get her revenge at the age of ten, as the armies gathered to lay siege upon the capital. No less than four different armies waited for the others to blink, but it would be the capital that suffered for it. As Deina prepared herself for the first battle in ten years, Ashley would stab her in the back, fearing that her mother would simply kill her on the way to the battle. In many ways, Ashley thought it a miracle that her mother hadn’t killed her when she was younger.

She escaped into the sewers, but rather than attempt to leave the city, she simply waited; she knew that soldiers were waiting in the fields. It would be nearly ten days of hiding, eating rats, and the occasional murder of soldiers who came to close to her in the tunnels before the battle for the capital was over, now under the control of the largest army from the country of Arteris. The losers of the battle (her now nameless country, the country of iidreen, and the country of Reajon) were either wiped out entirely, or simply went home to nurse their wounds. Those who survived this final battle within the city were enslaved or executed. Special attention was paid to the nobility of the now destroyed country whose name was stricken from the records, and made slaves in the lowest of positions within Arteris. Many would die from overwork and cruel masters, usually peasants or merchants.

Ashley believed she could escape once the battle was over, but, unfortunately, she was wrong. Arterian soldiers waited for her, and many others who thought they would escape through the sewers. She was put in irons, and would face the next ten years as a slave.

#Writing practice #original character #Creative writing #slavery #civil war #fantasy #Abuse #Emotional Abuse #Physical Abuse #Medieval times were messed up yo #This is par for the course #It's called the dark ages for a reason

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testthemewda · 6 years ago

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Meet RYLIE BARTON an EIGHTEEN year old who resembles WILLA HOLLAND. She hails from NEW YORK CITY, and lived with her parent, CLINT BARTON/HAWKEYE. Unfortunately, she is UNAVAILABLE.

“When you walk away I count the steps that you take. Do you see how much I need you right now?”

She is described to be —

+ driven, caring, hopeful

- contradicting, insecure, pretentious

Her story goes like this —

Rylie had always been a bright and quick girl. Even before she started out as an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., she was a natural when it came to combat. Training alongside her father, Hawkeye, and close family friend, Black Widow, she learned everything from the absolute best of the best. She had the skills Queen Merida did as a teen when Rylie was just eight years old! To say that she was one of the best archers in the world was the truth, and anyone who witnessed her skills weren’t disappointed. The best thing about being Hawkeye’s daughter was probably meeting those legends other children around Disney only dreamt of meeting, and being able to call them family is like a like a blessing. To Rylie, being recruited meant something important to her, because before officially joining the Next Generation Avengers, she was very lonely. In elementary school, Rylie was always thought of as one of the boys—not that it bothered her—but she never had any real friends. And it wasn’t that her father never gave her enough love, because there was more than enough love to go around, but it was really only them two that had to share it. Something; someone; some people were missing from the picture. Now she’s never lonely, and found a larger family within the group. As the youngest and final member join the group, she often has to prove herself to the older members. Their teasing didn’t bring young Rylie down, no, it only made her more determined to show she had more strength and skill than they thought! Day and night, Rylie trained hard to make her she would not be put down by the older boys. Though she was close with those boys, Rylie had managed to become best friends with the other girl on the team, the intellectual Phoebe Stark herself. Rylie aspired to be just as respected as Phoebe was in the team, and Phoebe was more than helpful when it came to earning their respect. Rylie became confident and hopeful. Rylie had faith in herself, and really believed she could take on the world—though never would—like Phoebe had told her. Phoebe molded Rylie into a strong, fearless girl; the dauntless girl she is today. Unfortunately, things can change unexpectedly and quick. Waiting for their parents to return from some mission or meeting, the young team was ambushed by none other than he mighty Loki himself. They fought hard, but when Rylie had her back turned, she didn’t witness Loki stab the one and only member of the team that really accepted Rylie with open arms. She watched her world fall; and it was too late to do anything. As soon as Troy brought her to ground safety, Rylie was the first to rush over to Phoebe, and tugged her away from Troy only to sob into Phoebe’s damaged Iron armor. No one was going to pull her away, and she was glad no one did. She cried for hours, isolating herself from the world for long periods of time. She lost the hope that Phoebe gave her, and now she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

Rylie had to try to be strong, though. With the boys’ recent bickering and with Phoebe’s presence following her everywhere she went, Rylie felt the upmost uncomfortable around the training hall and hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D. She felt empty without Phoebe by her side telling her the lastest gossip on their favorite celebrities and such. It was Phoebe’s idea to want to attend WDU for quite some time now, so Rylie suggested that the team go to take a break and try to get over this tragedy, even though she knows she never will. Around WDA, you could visibly see the hidden pain in Rylie’s eyes, the sparkle in her eye is no longer shining back and her smile was nothing real. Nobody ever questioned her about it, knowing very well that she might just cry. Young Rylie never felt accepted anywhere, until she met Phoebe, and now that Phoebe’s gone, there’s a large void in her heart. She lost more than a best friend. She lost her sister, her guiding light, and most importantly her self-confidence. Now Rylie, the latest to join the group at WDU, is very scared of being at WDU without Phoebe. This was her dream, and doing it without her felt the worst. It doesn’t help that with the team broken up now, Rylie couldn’t feel more alone than ever.

Be careful around her, her powers are —

WEAPON PROFICIENCY → Rylie is one of the best archers in the world alongside her father, but in battle, she most definitely would have the upper hand. Rylie may look weak, but with a weapon, Rylie has to be taken seriously if you really want to win against her. Though her main weapon is a bow and arrow, any weapon Rylie touches gives her masterous skills even without the use of training. Despite being one of the best, Rylie continues to compare her strength and durability against Phoebe’s, which not only pushes her to do better, but subliminally is shrinking her own ego, believing she will never be as good as Phoebe, and the team will never get back together. Rylie is training hard even when she doesn’t need it, but she knows the boys still train often so she’s subconciously conjuring up a master plan. Hopefully they’ll catch her training and join her, and maybe the others will join.. it’ll be just like they were before.

INNATE COMBAT → Now, with or without a weapon, Rylie is a force of nature that will not let anything overwrite her few successes. With the capability to pack a punch that could maim someone, you do not want to get on her bad side. She could punch the wall and you can bet that it would give out. With no special training prior to her discovering this power, Rylie has the capability to do more than you could think. She can learn both boxing and taekwondo in less than a day, and yet master it perfectly without a doubt. It’s no surprise that Rylie is so strong, but she inevitably gives up after awhile of training, still continuing to compare herself to Phoebe and how she would never be as good as her in anything. Rylie hasn’t given up yet, but she’s coming close; despite already being the best she can be, Rylie just feels the need to be better.

You could see her around with —

AVENGERS → Since Rylie joined their team, she has felt a sense of family that she never had before. She viewed the older members as her older siblings, just as they viewed her as the baby sister. She was arguably the closest to Phoebe, and feels that the boys have a special piece of Phoebe in them so she tries to stick close to all of them, despite the group taking a break. Rylie doesn’t like this split between the group, and now feels more alone than she’s ever been thanks to the absence, even if she sees them everyday, she misses seeing them together. She misses their family bond and just wants them to be a team. She knows Phoebe wouldn’t like them separating, so Rylie is trying her best to keep them together. Even worse, how do their parents feel? She never got the chance to ask her father, nor does she even know if they have any knowledge of this. She’s trying hard to keep them in her grasp, but with the boys unwilling to give in, Rylie is slowly losing more and more hope. She isn’t Phoebe, she has no idea what to do in this kind of situation.

RIVER TRITON → Despite how sad Rylie is, she tries her best to have a good time in River’s company. Even though they’re just considered to be study buddies, she finds him to be a rather good friend of hers. Especially since the team has dispanded, Rylie had quickly found a friend in River when things were most complicated with the boys prior to things easing up after a few weeks. She always talks to him about the guys; how they make her extremely angry, but very sad as well. Luckily, River knows the feelings of being apart from family, so he doesn’t dare to intrude in one of her rants. So far, she considers him and Jolie to be her best friends around WDA, which is saying something since she hasn’t made the best effort to become friends with anyone at all.

NIKITA SKELLINGTON → Even though most see Rylie as delicate now, there is one person who’s seen the absolute worse in her than anyone else. They were training on the field one day, and Rylie isn’t sure if she heard Nikita’s question right, but she could’ve sworn she kept asking about Phoebe. It was nonstop too, so naturally Rylie would’ve left the space to cry behind a corner, or just simply ignore her, but something inside her snapped. She began to fight the girl, sparring against her with a spear as Nikita just used a shield to protect herself. It ended with Nikita being pinned to the floor, with the spear at her neck, Rylie threatening to cut out her throat if she didn’t shut up about Phoebe. Nikita nodded her head, silencing herself at once. Maybe Rylie was drunk, because Nikita actually said, “You’re doing great, but you should get some rest. Your body will be stiff the next day.” And indeed it was.

JOLIE BIESTE → It was someone like Jolie that has been able to piece back most of Rylie like Phoebe had when they first met. When Rylie first came to WDA in senior year, Jolie was the first person she met. They bonded quickly, subsiding her own sadness to actually find a friend. It didn’t take long for Rylie to explain her side of Phoebe’s story, breaking down before Jolie. However, Jolie was kind enough to understand her situation and attempt to glue back Rylie’s broken pieces. Jolie knows what it’s like to lose someone so close to her, even though her best friend is somewhere else breathing. But it feels like he’s dead. Jolie comforts Rylie, and puts away her own worried to aid Rylie. Because of this, Rylie sees a lot of Phoebe in Jolie. It feels natural to be around Jolie, almost as if Phoebe was around. She’s even called Jolie “Phoebe” before, but luckily Jolie doesn’t mind. If Rylie isn’t with the other Avengers, is most certainly spending time with Jolie.

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gracewithducks · 7 years ago

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I Chose You (John 15:9-17)

This week, our family celebrated a special holiday, if not exactly a “holy” holiday – May the Fourth. This year the day was especially meaningful since, for the first time, our daughters have a framework and a reference for why exactly it’s funny to say “May the Fourth be with you.” It’s even funnier when, as good Methodists, we respond: “And also with you.”

And for those of you who are completely lost, it’s a Star Wars thing. In the universe of Star Wars, the Force is a power which permeates everyone and everything; that power can be tapped into to either to do great evil or to give you strength and peace and the ability to do great good. And so the words “May the force be with you” are offered as a blessing, in much the same way that we might say “God be with you” or even “The Lord be with you.”

May the Fourth, the fourth day of May, has become an unofficial holiday among Star Wars fans. And whenever Star Wars fans start talking about Star Wars, sooner or later, inevitably, one very heated debate comes up: whether or not Han shot first.

You see, the first original Star Wars movie was released in 1977 – more than forty years ago now. And while the special effects were cutting edge at the time, as new technologies emerged, George Lucas – the mind behind the Star Wars universe – George Lucas started to imagine what could have been.

In the 1990s, after almost 20 years without a new Star Wars story, new movies began to emerge. And to coincide with those new films, George Lucas took advantage of the opportunity to go back and re-release the original three stories, this time with new and extended scenes and updated special effects.

It was a hotly debated decision, as you might imagine. Fans criticized the choice to mess with a classic, to toy with a masterpiece; they were upset because the new scenes and effects didn’t meld seamlessly with the original footage… but most of all, they were up in arms because of one small but important change to the story itself.

Han Solo always was a bit of an accidental hero. We first meet him in a violent and seedy tavern full of smugglers and outlaws, where he’s hired by two of our true heroes; Han is a pilot, and they need a ride. From the beginning, it’s clear that Han is out for himself; he doesn’t set out to be a hero. He’s a smuggler, and he’s just hoping to earn enough money to pay off his debts and escape the bounty on his head. He’s rude, greedy, and arrogant; he thinks the force is a hokey old religious myth, and he doesn’t care about battling the evil empire – he just wants to stay out of the way. Over and over again, Han embraces his identity as a scoundrel, and he reminds everyone that he’s just here for the money. Once he gets paid, he abandons our heroes before the climactic battle… only to return, unexpected, at just the right minute, to become the unlikeliest hero of all.

But early in his story, right after we meet him, right after he agrees to give our heroes a ride – for an extremely high price at that – Han Solo is cornered by a bounty hunter who’s been sent to collect his debt. He tries to bargain for more time, knowing a big payday is coming – but it’s too late. Instead, Han goes for his weapon under the table and, without warning, shoots the bounty hunter, killing him and buying Han time to escape.

This, at least, is how the story originally went. And it means that minutes after we meet this character, one of the first things we see him do is shoot a man, without warning, in an attempt to keep his own checkered past from catching up with him.

And apparently, it’s a scene that worried George Lucas. He would later say that he didn’t think audiences would or even should accept Han as a hero if one of the first things we saw him do was kill a man.

In the re-released film, then, a crucial change was made: special effects were used to show that, before Han shot the bounty hunter, the bounty hunter shot first. That is to say, when Han killed the other guy, he did so – not in cold blood, but in self-defense.

It’s a small change. Han is still a scoundrel and a smuggler with a bounty on his head – but at least he’s not a murderer; he’s a man of sufficient principles that he refuses to shoot first… and that, I suppose, is supposed to make him more likeable and his journey from outlaw to hero easier to embrace.

It’s a small change, but an important one. And it bothers me in ways I struggle to put into words – perhaps because I’m a purist, and perhaps because I’m keenly aware how easy it is for the victors to rewrite history in order to show themselves in a better light – which is, almost literally, exactly what’s happening here.

But I think it’s more than that: because it matters, it really makes a difference, that Han Solo starts the story as a man without principles, a man who has no plan for the future, no vision beyond his own immediate interests, a man who doesn’t look for any greater purpose – and who in fact, when a greater purpose is presented, still argues that he can’t and doesn’t deserve to be a part of it.

He’s not lying. He’s not being modest. He genuinely believes that he himself, as an outlaw and a killer, has no place in the new, more just universe that the heroes are working to create. It’s only as, throughout the story, his new companions see him differently, as they tell him again and again that his past doesn’t define him, that he is more than he sees himself to be, that he is welcome and he has a role to play – eventually, he starts to change the way he sees himself.

Our scripture for today continues the words of Jesus to his disciples, between the last supper and his arrest. And part of what he says today is, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.”

I confess that those words make me squirm a bit. I’m a good Wesleyan, and I believe that God really does give us free will, the freedom to choose who we will follow and what we will believe. So I certainly don’t believe that what Jesus is saying here is that he’s already chosen who’s in and who’s not.

Instead, I hear these words and words of hope and encouragement, spoken to a group of friends who are about to go through the hardest days of their lives. In the coming hours, they will betray Christ, abandon him, deny him, and ultimately lose him… and they will be left with haunting questions and crippling guilt. And Jesus reminds them what grace is all about: you’re not here because you deserve it; you’re not here because you’re perfect… you’re here because I invited you. You’re here because, even though I know all about you, even though I know how you’ve failed in the past, even though I know you’ll let me down again – I still chose you. I still love you. I still believe in you; you don’t have to be perfect to make a difference.

Han Solo stands in the tradition of other unlikely heroes, including many in our own faith tradition: Moses murdered an Egyptian in an attempt to do the right thing, but he was haunted by that choice and ran away, trying to hide from his calling for years. Even when God spoke to him out of a burning bush, still he argued, firmly and repeatedly, that God wouldn’t and couldn’t possibly want to work with him. David murdered a man just because he wanted that man’s wife as his own – and though he bent over backwards trying to justify what he’d done, he had to face the consequences in the end. Sarah was a master manipulator. Abraham nearly sacrificed his own son. Jonah ran away and pouted. Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a poor woman from nowhere. Mary Magdalene was an unlikely first evangelist – but without her testimony, none of us would be here today. Paul was a man who breathed murder against the first Christians, who hated and detested anyone but the very best Jews… and then he became the man who opened the church to the whole world.

Our history doesn’t define us, and it doesn’t disqualify us, from finding a place in God’s kingdom… and this is what grace looks like: God keeps speaking our new identity, our calling, our worth over us, until the day when we grow into it and are able to name it for ourselves. And when we do, we join God in working to take down all the evil empires and create a universe founded on justice where peace can prevail.

When the disciples are filled with questions, when they are facing failure, Jesus encourages them by reminding them they do not stand on their own merits, but on his unfailing grace. And his words to them are his words to us, too: “I chose you,” he says. I know you, and I love you, and I choose you, and I’m appointing you “to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”

Maybe you’re struggling with faith today. Maybe you’re feeling unworthy and unwelcome. Maybe you’re worried that your past is finally going to catch up with you. The good news for us today is that scoundrels can become heroes. Our past doesn’t define us; and we don’t have to be perfect to make a difference. May we all find our part to play in building a new and more just universe, not just for some, but for everyone.

God of scoundrels and saints alike, we are so thankful for your grace, that calls us, invites us, empowers and appoints us. Help us to see ourselves as you see us; help us to believe that our story isn’t over yet. May your kingdom come around us, and may we be a part of its coming; may justice roll down, and peace prevail on earth. This is our earnest prayer, today and always. In Jesus’ name we pray; amen.

I am grateful to Rick Barry, whose great article Han Shot First: Finding Christ in the Original ‘Star Wars’ Trilogy, heavily shaped this sermon. You can find the original article here:

https://sojo.net/articles/keeping-force/han-shot-first-finding-christ-original-star-wars-trilogy

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projectsolis · 8 years ago

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Chapter 6: Starlight

- Day 7 of The Wildfire; Year 252 ATP

Barrett ran his fingers over Kelsey’s eyelids, shutting them for good.

“Solis,” he whispered. “Queen and Divinity of Time. Grant strength to us below. With Your embrace give us resolve. We offer faith and devotion to You so that Your love forever gives us life.”

He holstered the gun at his back and stood up. Why couldn’t she have just accepted what he had offered her? He had given her a way to save her husband. All she had to do was say yes. That’s it. She could have been on her way after that.

Well, it was over now. She chose to threaten him. Chose to take the gambit. So he didn’t feel guilty about leaving her out here. That was the consequence. There was just one more thing he needed to do. Kelsey left him with her husband, and Barrett didn’t have supplies. Without a hospital, Clyde would suffer until he passed. Barrett wasn’t going to let that happen. He was pragmatic, not cruel.

He would make it quick.

Barrett looked down at Kelsey and frowned. Did she even think this through? Once she pulled that gun, there was no way things were going to work out. Either he would be dead, or she would. And if somehow they both got through the ordeal alive, nothing would have changed. She wouldn’t have been able to convince him to leave. Maybe she was hoping her death would spur him to altruism as a last resort. If so, she banked on the wrong person. Clyde was going to die alongside his wife.

At least he already had a gun. He could take care of Clyde and then figure out what to do next. He set out for the complex, across the beach and up the knoll. Maybe a change in scenery was in order. The idea had popped into his head the night of the storm. Idle thought really. But it was starting to sound better and better. Nicole would be upset with him for leaving all of the furniture, but she would get over it. He didn’t really care what she thought at the moment anyway.

When Barrett got to his condo, he entered through the back door. Inside was a mess. The furniture had been overturned or thrown around. His obsidian lamp was on the ground in fragments. Kelsey knew what she was looking for when she came in here. It hadn’t been a spur of the moment decision.

He slipped out the already opened front. Crossed the walkway to the second condo and headed upstairs. Found Clyde unresponsive beneath a mountain of spare blankets.

He unholstered the gun.

“It’s easier this way,” Barrett said. He aimed at the heart. “You won’t feel a thing.”

He pulled the hammer back, wrapping his finger around the trigger. He was ready to fire. To put all of this behind him. But a glint in the sunlight caught his eyes. It came from the pommel of the glass dagger sitting on the far nightstand. Barrett lowered the gun and circled the bed for a closer view.

Nicole had made it for Clyde. Poor guy probably thought it was a strange gift. Really wasn’t a gift at all. She had used it to show him her Scar. Assert control over her interrogation. Hard to defy a woman who could make something like this from sand.

He picked up the dagger and took a seat on the bed next to Clyde. So much intricacy in the glass. It was beautiful. Just like the Amaranthine Throne. It had been a long time since he’d seen it.

“Kelsey asked me a question out there,” he said. “‘Don’t you love someone?’”

His fingers ran along the broadside of the blade.

“It’s hard to remember that time, but I did. She was everything to me. She asked me to help make this nation strong, and I did everything that that required. That’s what it means to be an Archangel. Doing what is necessary.”

Barrett sighed, bowing his head.

“We fought so hard to make this world a better place. She had a vision, and I believed in its purity. I still do. She used to tell me that peace only existed in the shadow of order. But Elizabeth’s gone. Dead. It only gets worse now. If Laura could see me, I’d be such a disappointment.”

He paused.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. You don’t care what I say. Meeting me was the worst thing that ever happened to you, I’m sure. I should have never let your wife be in a position to threaten me. It was careless.”

His deliberation reminded him of why he had left in the first place. The powerlessness. Silly tricks might have fooled Clyde and Kelsey, but that’s all they were. Tricks. They couldn’t be counted on. Not with the kind of dangers Solis faced.

But Elizabeth was dead, and with Her the Sinclairs. Did that warrant his return? Did he even offer anything? Nicole seemed to think so, but in this case he wasn’t so sure he could trust her judgement. Then there were the others in charge. Derek could go either way. Remy, on the other hand, would have a meltdown. Not that it was a bad thing, but still. He had to be sure this was the right call. That meant weighing everything.

Barrett stood up. The past two years had been nothing but aversion to going back, and it was for a damn good reason. But if everything fell apart, would that shame be even worse? Would he be able to leave the world again knowing that he could have tried to prevent it? He walked to the edge of the bed, placing his hand on the post. He knew the answer Laura would have given him. It should have been his from the start.

If he was going to go through with this, there was no point in killing Clyde. They both needed to go to Fort Sunder. It’d be nothing to throw him in the passenger seat. Unconscious people were usually good about keeping quiet. And after looking at Clyde’s face, there was very little chance he was going to wake up along the way.

He set the gun on the nightstand but pocketed the dagger. He had better weapons he could take. The dagger was personal. “Alright, Clyde. Maybe your wife saved your life after all.”

Before they could head out, Barrett had to get some things. He’d leave Clyde until it was time to go. No use lugging a body around. He descended the stairs and crossed over to his own condo. Went to the dresser in his bedroom. Scooting it towards the bathroom door, he gave himself access to a section of carpet that he had cut when he moved in. He pulled it back to reveal a loose, wooden plank.

This was where Barrett kept his rainy-day cache. In the crawlspace was a glass box endued with amethyst-coloring. It had been a gift from another Archangel a long time ago. It was large enough and sturdy enough to hold some very useful things. But what made it truly special was the Scar on the lock. Only the owner of the items within the box could open it. No one else. Of course they could smash the box, but they risked smashing what was inside too.

He pulled it from the crawlspace and grabbed a rucksack from the dresser’s bottom drawer. He dumped the box into it. There was no telling how long he’d be gone, and he wasn’t about to just leave it behind. Too practical. Plus, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Fort Sunder was four phases away, but if he went through the derelict town of Starlight, he could shave it down to three. Maybe. That was if he avoided highwaymen and the like.

The box had first aid, grenades, explosives, nutrition supplements, an account authenticator, and a pistol with an extended magazine. There was also spare ammo in case it was needed.

“That should do it,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder.

One more thing. Their vehicle. It had been a while since he took it out for a spin. Needed to make sure that it still ran. Otherwise, they were going nowhere. Life-changing decisions be damned.

He plodded down the stairs and left the condo behind without bothering to lock it. There was no need. He was taking everything worth something. Well, mostly everything. His possession beneath Lake Sanord would have to stay there.

Through the iron gate, the complex housed two-car garages for each of the condominiums. There was space inside for a workbench, a tool cabinet, and some plastic storage containers. Each of the garages also had a keypad. He lifted the cover. 1912249.

The garage door opened along its tracks.

If Barrett had anything less than a Feronix, he’d have to ignore Starlight altogether and circle it instead. Good thing he had one. Sleek, black paint. All-terrain tires. Bulletproof chassis with kinetic field capabilities. Tinted, shatter-resistant windows. Railgun in the center controlled either manually or via the dashboard console.

Such an embarrassment that it was buried underneath a layer of dust. He ran his fingers along the hood. Disgusting. After brushing the dust off on his cargo pants, he walked to the driver’s side and opened the door.

Barrett hopped in. For two years, the only time he got in the driver’s seat of his Feronix was for maintenance. And now he was about to return to everything he swore off. Nicole was never going to let him live it down. Especially considering how he told her off yesterday.

Well, that was the price he paid. He couldn’t let everything that Laura worked for go to waste. Something just had to remind him of what really mattered. He punched the ignition, and the Feronix awakened.

#Kings & Queens #Project Solis #fiction #writing #stories #sci-fi #science fiction #fantasy #chapter #adventure #action #romance

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